Category: Help Moving Foward

Several years ago I put myself on a diet. This week I fell off the wagon, again!  Determined to get back on, I hunted around in my files for this little piece I wrote back then.  It will explain everything…

I have a size 8 ½ mouth. I know because I put my foot in it several times last week and it fit perfectly. Upset over saying some things I regretted, I decided to go on a verbal diet. I determined to speak only what was good and necessary. I would skim the fat from my conversations by refraining from complaining and criticizing. And I would stop all my opinion giving binges. How did I do? Not very well. But I happened to do just well enough to be surprised by the benefits of such a plan.

The first thing I noticed on my verbal diet was that I experienced more peace. I never realized how much worry accompanied words of complaint and criticism, or how much angst went into my attempts to influence others with my opinions. Secondly, I noticed that my relationships seemed to improve on the spot. I became a better listener when I wasn’t waiting to get in my two cents. I enjoyed people more and understood them better. Thirdly, I noticed that when I talked to people less I talked to God more. What I wanted to tell them I turned into prayers to Him. When I started this diet I worried that my relationships might go hungry on fewer words. Instead I found they were better nourished and more deeply fed!

“…be quick to listen, slow to speak…” James 1:19

God asked, “Who is this muddying the water, ignorantly confusing the issue, second-guessing my purposes?”  Job answered, “I admit.  I was the one.  I babbled on about things far beyond me, I made small talk about wonders way over my head.  I admit I once lived by rumors of you.  I’m sorry—forgive me.”  Job 42: 2-6 (The Message) 

As a young girl I appreciated my fathers love but I didn’t always appreciate his authority.  Why didn’t he like me driving around after midnight on weekends?  What was wrong with going to a class alone in downtown Minneapolis at night?  Why spoil my fun and scold me for riding through an icy parking lot on the back end of a car?

I didn’t go to work with my father, so I didn’t understand his job.  I knew he was a police officer, but I envisioned him writing traffic tickets all day.  I had no knowledge of the situations he came across.  I had not been to accident scenes, witnessed the effects of a drunk driver, or taken reports of rape and abuse.  When I questioned my father’s boundaries for me, I spoke of things I knew nothing about.  My view of life was little.  His was big.  I understand better now how my father’s higher knowledge impacted the decisions he made for the daughter he loved.

Dear God,

I don’t know the paths you travel.  I have no idea what all you see and do.  I imagine I understand your work.  But my view is limited.  I have rolled my eyes at your commands and argued with you about your way for me.  I have spoken of things I don’t understand.  I am sorry.  Help me to trust in your love, rest in your wisdom, obey your commands, and appreciate your authority.                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                    Amen.      

This year, for the first time in my life I felt I was to observe Lent.  I found an Ash Wednesday service and went to it.  The minister talked about how we would now be pilgrims on a journey of repentance, reflection and self-denial.  When he was done talking I followed him and the congregants along a path made of crosses marked out on the floor.  It led to a chapel where we stood in line to approach the minister.  When it was my turn he dipped his finger into a mixture of ashes, made the sign of a cross on my forehead, and declared quite sternly “Remember, from dust you were made and to dust you will return.”  I was surprised by what he said.  I thought he was going to give me a blessing.  Well, maybe it was.  Maybe this reminder of my humanity, this reminder of my humble beginnings, and of my certain and humble end, was a blessing.  I went home pensive.

The next morning I woke up at 4 a.m. with the minister’s words racing through my mind.   “And to dust you will return.”  I was frightened.  My heart sped up.  Am I going to die today I wondered.  Is that why I felt led to the Ash Wednesday service (the first Ash Wednesday service I had been to in my life).  Is that why the minister told me that?  Or… was this instead a Scrooge-like experience.  A chance.  A chance to reflect on my life.  A chance to consider and confess my self-absorbed attitudes and actions, even my self-absorbed prayers.  Maybe this was a chance to try denying myself some of those small things so that I could live a truer, larger, more loving life.  Yes, I think that’s what it was, a chance to see a better way to live.  And give.  A chance to say not just “God bless me” but “God bless us, everyone!”          

                        “For dust you are and to dust you will return.”  Genesis 3:19 NIV  

I was finishing up the book God Is Not Mad at You by Joyce Meyer.  In the end she was talking about how to move from being milk drinkers to meat eaters in our spiritual lives.  She was saying that we are milk drinkers when we live on the messages of God’s love and grace all the time.  And that we are meat eaters when we eat for ourselves and then do something, like give instead of receive.

For years I was a milk drinking Christian just as Joyce confesses.  I lapped up the messages of God’s love and grace to me.  It was like I really wanted someone to give me a warm bottle all the time and if they didn’t I turned my heart away.  I was so needy.  And I was afraid.

Finally I started to pick up a fork.  I got out the Bible and began reading it on my own.  It was hard at first.  I didn’t always know where to begin.  But as I did it I started to learn a lot.  And I started to grow without even realizing it.  When I read a story about forgiveness, I didn’t turn my heart away.  Instead I listened.  God never shoved anything down my throat.  He simply held out the fork of meat.  In a sense saying, “Would you like a bite of this?  You will have the strength to go a lot of places with me if you swallow these truths.”  And in a sense I would say, “Ok, I’ll try a little of that.  Where do I need to forgive Lord?  And just how can I do it?”

And so a life long relationship of eating at the table of the Lord began.  It really is the richest of fare.  There I am strengthened to face the challenges in my life.  There I am filled with the energy to go the distance with God and to enjoy myself as I do.

“Therefore let us leave the elementary teachings about Christ and go on to maturity..”   Hebrews 6:1 NIV

I was out to eat with my husband and two friends of ours.  Everybody except me ordered hot fudge sundaes for dessert and the waitress brought them out.  After a few moments I took a taste of my husband’s and was surprised to find that the fudge was cold.  Instinctively I spoke up, “A cold hot fudge sundae?  I can’t believe they gave you all cold hot fudge sundaes.  I mean what’s good about a hot fudge sundae is the HOT fudge, right?”  The sundae eaters frowned a little as if just realizing that their desserts were somehow flawed.  I could tell they were considering my words, and I was feeling a little smart for noticing such a problem when one of the friends said, “That’s okay if it’s not hot.  It’s good.”  His words surprised me.  They were genuine.  And they were spoken without rebuke.  Everyone went back to enjoying their desserts and I shut my mouth.  What else could I do?  Grace had poured on the scene.  The gospel had come to dinner.  Mercy was triumphing over judgment right before my eyes.  The atmosphere at the table went back to being pleasant.  The waitress was not summoned.  And her tip would not be cut short.  As I watched my husband and my friends finish their desserts I found myself wishing– wishing to be a person who eats cold hot fudge sundaes with the same grace.  What is the gospel if it is not lived out in small things?