Today I have been in what is for me a very unusual mood--somewhat restless, unsure what matter is bugging me. The day is dark and wet, and my mood is like a dark wet blanket. Why would that be? I should be in the happiest mood possible! Katie is coming home tonight from three months away at college, and Christmas is coming; that should be all the excitement I need, and yet the fact that I should be excited only seems to make my dark attitude all the more unnerving.
Tim and I came home from getting him some black dress shoes and a black tie for a concert in which I believe he may be playing the recorder (consider yourself warned, bring some cotton). We went from thrift shop to outlet store to discount store and finally found them. It frustrates me to buy them for one wearing when he may never need them again--but someone will be able to use them next year if he doesn't; I guess I'll sign it off to contributing to someone else's cause (sigh). Still, overall today should be a happy and cheery day.
I came home and put the heat on and the Christmas music on the cd player. Tim made me smile when time after time, he'd say, "I love that song!" and asked me at one time why we don't just play Christmas songs all year long. He takes after me, that's what it is. It blesses me, to know he has the same love I did as a kid. He came over, knowing my dark mood, and gave me a great big series of hugs. I always need hugs, and since Katie is my main hugger, I've been lacking for them all these months; Tim's usually less huggy and more bombarding, but he has definitely been discovering the art of the hug as well. He does so in a strong, solid way; he hasn't learned the gentle art of not breaking his mom in the process.
Normally I kind of like having the lights off, or at least I don't think of turning them on; Gary, the opposite, turns them all on when he comes home. I turned them on and that made the place a little cheerier.
Still the empty feeling remains and I'm a bit fidgety; I know that external sources of cheer are just that--external; the real issue is very much internal. Whatever is the matter...such a strange feeling. I'm glad this is unfamiliar for me. There are no doubt many who are well-familiar with such feelings, and I am thankful to usually be coasting along over them. It could be that those frowning faces in stores and on sidewalks are feeling this way inside.
The thing I'm thinking is that it is a "poor in spirit" kind of thing...maybe I'd be well-off to feel it much more often. Thinking on last night's conversation about belongings, feeling a little defensive but convicted this morning, I blogged about it in one vein, but the problem is not fixed. I am a rather reckless consumer perhaps--frugal in many ways, but the proof is in what we have here at home, and so I have to say somewhat reckless. Shopping for the shoes and tie, and the prospect of doing what remains of my Christmas shopping (I've hardly started, and the time is short) only made me think about it more.
I believe that at one point that was perhaps too brief, as a newer believer and more aware of people in missions ministries, I was more careful in what I bought, more aware of the needs of others elsewhere in the world; this care has apparently subsided, yielding to more selfish considerations. How did I let it happen? Well, the thing has happened and I must get back on track. I think the worst thing is that at one point I knew it, and since have fallen away from it--it would be better to gain some new obedience rather than have to regain lost ground. As far as it depends on me, I must not be reckless, I must take what I have and with it do God's will.
That was how last night's lesson at the Foundations study that our pastor did at our house seems to apply to my life--"Follow Me"--follow Christ, as He does God's will and not His own. In fact, it was what the pastor gently addressed with me...and I have to say, he lives it himself. There's no one who can call him materialistic, not from anything I've seen. I can't shrug it off and say, "Well, there's this about him...well, I remember this other thing..." No, it applies to me all the more visibly because I've seen it consistently applied to him. All the more effective his impact, all the more convicting the conversation. He lives on less than any pastor I've known, has a smaller house and an older car, and is content; I've never once heard him complain. To have more such examples! To have more people willing to address sin issues in such a way! That would be a potential for growth in the Church.
It's a big resolution, to be free from recklessness in adding unnecessary items to our household, to not only be frugal but careful in my choices; it's a resolution I really must relearn and keep.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Come and Get it
Then he said to them, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." Luke 12:15
Have you ever seen one of those shows where someone has a house that is so chock full of junk that they have little hallways and tunnels between the piles? Our house is not like that, really, but it gets too close too much of the time, and seeing those shows is a warning siren to me that I need to go right away and sort through and drag out five boxes per day to give away soon. Belongings have something of a hold on me. I hate to say it, it sounds so stupid, and it's embarrassing, but it's true. Anyone who's been to our house knows we have entirely too much stuff. I'm combing through it to get rid of things, because as has been pointed out, stuff can own you; you end up a slave to it, serving it by sorting, cleaning, arranging, pulling out, putting away. It's really ridiculous how much time can be spent on stuff and it becomes so much a part of life that you don't tally it and realize how out of proportion it can be.
I protest, "But I didn't buy all of it, much of it was given to us," or "Really, I didn't spend as much as you might think; I bought on clearance, or at garage sales..." and maybe I don't even remember buying it. The effect is the same, I'm serving it. What a headache! I really don't know how much freedom I would have if it were gone. Getting rid of it is a servitude process too--first sorting through it, and then getting it into boxes, and then out of the house. For us that means that it waits in the garage or basement until we can haul it off or have someone pick it up--which means even though mentally it's not ours any more, it's there to trip over until it's gone.
I hardly ever go to garage sales any more (learned the hard way how dangerous they are); haven't bought books and music lately except specific needs for homeschooling (and homeschooling has a way of justifying a book-stuff mentality), but still stuff comes in. A kind neighbor has given me at least two big boxes of just curriculum, half of which is either over Tim's head still or stuff he'll never be interested in, it's not his learning style. So even though it came my way with good intentions, and without having gone and dragged it home, it's mine to sort through and hand on to some other unsuspecting soul. That is typical of the battle with stuff that I deal with too continually. Seems like we end up with triple the battle that others do, and I'm not the most alert soldier in the fight.
We intend to move this spring or summer into a smaller house. I like that idea, and hope that it will give me impetus to really clear it out for good rather than have it all squished into a smaller space. I have a fear that the battle against stuff will still be an ongoing battle, a typical American battle of overabundance fought or lost on so many fronts, like the battle of the bulge. With God's help, I can do it. By the way, you want some free stuff? Come and get it! Remember to bring your truck.
Have you ever seen one of those shows where someone has a house that is so chock full of junk that they have little hallways and tunnels between the piles? Our house is not like that, really, but it gets too close too much of the time, and seeing those shows is a warning siren to me that I need to go right away and sort through and drag out five boxes per day to give away soon. Belongings have something of a hold on me. I hate to say it, it sounds so stupid, and it's embarrassing, but it's true. Anyone who's been to our house knows we have entirely too much stuff. I'm combing through it to get rid of things, because as has been pointed out, stuff can own you; you end up a slave to it, serving it by sorting, cleaning, arranging, pulling out, putting away. It's really ridiculous how much time can be spent on stuff and it becomes so much a part of life that you don't tally it and realize how out of proportion it can be.
I protest, "But I didn't buy all of it, much of it was given to us," or "Really, I didn't spend as much as you might think; I bought on clearance, or at garage sales..." and maybe I don't even remember buying it. The effect is the same, I'm serving it. What a headache! I really don't know how much freedom I would have if it were gone. Getting rid of it is a servitude process too--first sorting through it, and then getting it into boxes, and then out of the house. For us that means that it waits in the garage or basement until we can haul it off or have someone pick it up--which means even though mentally it's not ours any more, it's there to trip over until it's gone.
I hardly ever go to garage sales any more (learned the hard way how dangerous they are); haven't bought books and music lately except specific needs for homeschooling (and homeschooling has a way of justifying a book-stuff mentality), but still stuff comes in. A kind neighbor has given me at least two big boxes of just curriculum, half of which is either over Tim's head still or stuff he'll never be interested in, it's not his learning style. So even though it came my way with good intentions, and without having gone and dragged it home, it's mine to sort through and hand on to some other unsuspecting soul. That is typical of the battle with stuff that I deal with too continually. Seems like we end up with triple the battle that others do, and I'm not the most alert soldier in the fight.
We intend to move this spring or summer into a smaller house. I like that idea, and hope that it will give me impetus to really clear it out for good rather than have it all squished into a smaller space. I have a fear that the battle against stuff will still be an ongoing battle, a typical American battle of overabundance fought or lost on so many fronts, like the battle of the bulge. With God's help, I can do it. By the way, you want some free stuff? Come and get it! Remember to bring your truck.
Monday, December 10, 2007
The Real Christmas Carols
I love Christmas carols. So far I've only found one of our Christmas cds--Steven Curtis Chapman; and though I like it, I've played it now until I really want to play others before I go back to it; I think that's part of why I have a hard time really feeling like it's Christmas yet this year. One of my main memories of Christmas growing up in a non-Christian household was lying on my back next to the stereo and playing Christmas records--sometimes over and over again in rapid succession, to the chagrin of my mother--and I knew the songs by heart. From these songs, the Christmas story was the story I was most familiar with in the Bible before I ever read it.
Of course there were assumptions in some of the songs, like that there were three kings, when actually there were three gifts and who knows how many kings (or Magi). There were no donkeys mentioned in the Bible story (and being a mother I can say I can't imagine riding one for miles just before delivery; I'd rather waddle). I've heard it likely wasn't really winter, because the shepherds were out with their sheep on the hills, which happened only in the warmer months. But overall, the songs paint a very sweet and quiet picture of that time (leaving out, of course, Herod and his bloodthirst), for the most part fairly accurate.
I remember also being a bit mystified, intrigued, by the last stanzas of two songs--O Little Town of Bethlehem and Away in a Manger. These shared the gospel as well as anything I ever heard in my childhood: "O Holy Child of Mary, descend to us we pray; cast out our sins and enter in, be born in us today; We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Immanuel." And then, somewhat less clearly, "Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay close by me forever and love me I pray; bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, and take us to heaven to live with Thee there."
In those days the Christian Christmas songs were pretty much the norm; these days, I can go shopping, hear Christmas songs everywhere and never hear any of the Christmas story. I remember a little friend of Katie's hearing our songs on the player, and saying, "Why don't you have any of the real Christmas songs?" What she wanted were the secular ones like Jingle Bells and Frosty the Snowman.
So I love the real real Christmas songs; I want to play them constantly during this season. If I could only find my cds! I don't know where they got off to, but I'm going to continue the search. I'm thankful to the writers of those great songs. Who knows but it might have predisposed me to be receptive to the gospel when the time came.
Of course there were assumptions in some of the songs, like that there were three kings, when actually there were three gifts and who knows how many kings (or Magi). There were no donkeys mentioned in the Bible story (and being a mother I can say I can't imagine riding one for miles just before delivery; I'd rather waddle). I've heard it likely wasn't really winter, because the shepherds were out with their sheep on the hills, which happened only in the warmer months. But overall, the songs paint a very sweet and quiet picture of that time (leaving out, of course, Herod and his bloodthirst), for the most part fairly accurate.
I remember also being a bit mystified, intrigued, by the last stanzas of two songs--O Little Town of Bethlehem and Away in a Manger. These shared the gospel as well as anything I ever heard in my childhood: "O Holy Child of Mary, descend to us we pray; cast out our sins and enter in, be born in us today; We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Immanuel." And then, somewhat less clearly, "Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay close by me forever and love me I pray; bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, and take us to heaven to live with Thee there."
In those days the Christian Christmas songs were pretty much the norm; these days, I can go shopping, hear Christmas songs everywhere and never hear any of the Christmas story. I remember a little friend of Katie's hearing our songs on the player, and saying, "Why don't you have any of the real Christmas songs?" What she wanted were the secular ones like Jingle Bells and Frosty the Snowman.
So I love the real real Christmas songs; I want to play them constantly during this season. If I could only find my cds! I don't know where they got off to, but I'm going to continue the search. I'm thankful to the writers of those great songs. Who knows but it might have predisposed me to be receptive to the gospel when the time came.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Mary's Joy
In light of this coming Christmas, I just wanted to highlight the joy that Mary had that accompanied her obedience to God in agreeing to her unique role as the mother of our Savior and Lord--I have always found the part of the story before Jesus' birth intriguing, and there are so many inspirational elements to it. It has been proposed that Mary feared the possible dangers that accompanied this adventure, in view of her not yet being married; but none of that is ever shown in Scripture. To the contrary, her immediate answer to the angel Gabriel, after discovering the means by which it would happen, was one of complete willingness: "Let it be unto me as you have said." The Scripture gives no hint that her will struggled in the slightest against this great unknown, this mystery, this unique privilege.
There's a very practical way that I find to understand her confidence, apart from just her simple faith and obedience: Would God let anything happen to the mother of the Savior? She would be the safest person on the planet, you can be sure. Who knows how much she pondered that thought if at all; I think her willingness was more simple trust in God to protect His servant, or even further, it was her willingness to endure whatever it took to obey Him for what might be the most profound purpose to which any mere human has been called. It seems to me that I've heard that Jewish women all desired the role that Gabriel delivered to her; but also I imagine that God had created Mary uniquely for that role at that time, and instilled in her heart a sweetness and vital trust that might surpass that of any other woman in history.
Not only did she respond willingly to Gabriel, but Luke tells us that when she received that great greeting from Elizabeth, who was about 6 months along with John the Baptist, Mary broke out in a song of her own composition yet Scripture-based, praising God and delighting in the coming of her Savior, and calling herself blessed. All in all, reading the words of this song (which is referred to as the Magnificat), it is a delightful thing to ponder her condition and the mood of that song. It is also important to recognize that in this song, she calls Jesus her Savior. She knows that she needs the salvation He makes available, as does anyone else.
She was not the only one delighting in His presence on earth; not only Elizabeth, either, who could only know through the power of the Holy Spirit that Mary came to visit because they were both expecting and were parties to the most monumentous event in all of human history! Not only Elizabeth, but her tiny baby, still unborn, who leaped in her womb, rejoicing at the recognition of his cousin Jesus' presence. It shows that the unborn baby has a spirit, and that for the sake of this event, God instilled in John the Baptist a recognition that had nothing to do with mere human sense, but even as an unborn baby, he was filled with the Holy Spirit, as Gabriel had promised his father Zacharias. What a delight it must have been to these two women to visit together and ponder what was to come. I would be fascinated to somehow review their conversations that are unrecorded in Scripture regarding all that they were experiencing and expecting, and what they must have said about the angel Gabriel.
Zacharias' prophetic song, also, is filled with joy at God's deliverance. Other than Zacharias' initial doubt, these families, once assured by Gabriel, didn't anywhere in the Scriptures show fear, distrust, or hesitation. It was a delight to be used by God for such a great purpose as to bring His most indescribable Gift to earth. Perhaps no family before or since has ever been so filled with excitement and anticipation as they were at that time!
Joseph also treated Mary in the gentlest way possible considering the initial confusion he faced, and though little is recorded of his response to the angel of the Lord who explained the situation to him, it is all one of obedience and lovingkindness.
At some point a star even appeared, shining down from heaven, so clearly pointing to Mary, Joseph and Jesus that it directed the Magi from other countries to their house--it existed primarily, perhaps, to guide people to the Savior, but wouldn't it also show that God had singled this family out as His, not to be messed with? If a person had it in his heart to persecute them, and then saw that a star from heaven so specifically shone down on their home, it could only strike fear into his heart and change his mind. Who would think of sending such a star, who would have the power to exercise that thought, except the One who had called all the stars into being? As a result, their safety was all the more assured. God had put His divine stamp on their presence among the people.
In all this story, all I see among Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth and eventually Zacharias is sweet faith, delight, and obedience.
There's a very practical way that I find to understand her confidence, apart from just her simple faith and obedience: Would God let anything happen to the mother of the Savior? She would be the safest person on the planet, you can be sure. Who knows how much she pondered that thought if at all; I think her willingness was more simple trust in God to protect His servant, or even further, it was her willingness to endure whatever it took to obey Him for what might be the most profound purpose to which any mere human has been called. It seems to me that I've heard that Jewish women all desired the role that Gabriel delivered to her; but also I imagine that God had created Mary uniquely for that role at that time, and instilled in her heart a sweetness and vital trust that might surpass that of any other woman in history.
Not only did she respond willingly to Gabriel, but Luke tells us that when she received that great greeting from Elizabeth, who was about 6 months along with John the Baptist, Mary broke out in a song of her own composition yet Scripture-based, praising God and delighting in the coming of her Savior, and calling herself blessed. All in all, reading the words of this song (which is referred to as the Magnificat), it is a delightful thing to ponder her condition and the mood of that song. It is also important to recognize that in this song, she calls Jesus her Savior. She knows that she needs the salvation He makes available, as does anyone else.
She was not the only one delighting in His presence on earth; not only Elizabeth, either, who could only know through the power of the Holy Spirit that Mary came to visit because they were both expecting and were parties to the most monumentous event in all of human history! Not only Elizabeth, but her tiny baby, still unborn, who leaped in her womb, rejoicing at the recognition of his cousin Jesus' presence. It shows that the unborn baby has a spirit, and that for the sake of this event, God instilled in John the Baptist a recognition that had nothing to do with mere human sense, but even as an unborn baby, he was filled with the Holy Spirit, as Gabriel had promised his father Zacharias. What a delight it must have been to these two women to visit together and ponder what was to come. I would be fascinated to somehow review their conversations that are unrecorded in Scripture regarding all that they were experiencing and expecting, and what they must have said about the angel Gabriel.
Zacharias' prophetic song, also, is filled with joy at God's deliverance. Other than Zacharias' initial doubt, these families, once assured by Gabriel, didn't anywhere in the Scriptures show fear, distrust, or hesitation. It was a delight to be used by God for such a great purpose as to bring His most indescribable Gift to earth. Perhaps no family before or since has ever been so filled with excitement and anticipation as they were at that time!
Joseph also treated Mary in the gentlest way possible considering the initial confusion he faced, and though little is recorded of his response to the angel of the Lord who explained the situation to him, it is all one of obedience and lovingkindness.
At some point a star even appeared, shining down from heaven, so clearly pointing to Mary, Joseph and Jesus that it directed the Magi from other countries to their house--it existed primarily, perhaps, to guide people to the Savior, but wouldn't it also show that God had singled this family out as His, not to be messed with? If a person had it in his heart to persecute them, and then saw that a star from heaven so specifically shone down on their home, it could only strike fear into his heart and change his mind. Who would think of sending such a star, who would have the power to exercise that thought, except the One who had called all the stars into being? As a result, their safety was all the more assured. God had put His divine stamp on their presence among the people.
In all this story, all I see among Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth and eventually Zacharias is sweet faith, delight, and obedience.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Chewing the Cud
"My mind instructs me in the night..." I've always wondered at that tiny phrase. It sounded like a good thing but for a mind to instruct itself seemed puzzling. Now I think I understand it a little more, as my mind was doing its best to act as teacher in the wee hours of the morning. One of the first things I did on rising was to look online to research the digestive tract of the sheep.
"The first major difference between the herbivore and the carnivore is the sheer amount of food the herbivore is forced to eat. While a carnivore can usually manage with one small meal a day, the herbivore must eat so much that it is continually eating and its stomach is never empty." (1) Isn't that interesting. And so for us who ever try to thrive on snatching the Scriptures in quick moments, or speed-reading to go on to the next thing, or reading while our minds are miles away, we must be downright emaciated. Think how we'd thrive if we ate like the sheep we are?! Continual eating...we'd stay in the grassy slopes and never on the rocky crags.
"(Sheep) need peace and quiet to ruminate. Healthy sheep and goats spend a third of their life, ruminating, which is belching up a ball of grass from the stomach, chewing it and then swallowing it again (commonly called, 'chewing their cud')." (2) Something here reminds me of Psalm 23. I think there's also a pretty clear parallel in our meditating on Scripture.
"Animals that have been on a high plane of nutrition, with abundant VFA production, have long, luxuriant papillae well suited to promote absorption. In contrast, animals which have been under nutritional deprivation have small, blunted papillae, and require time on a high quality diet to allow for development of their papillae and absorptive capacity." (2) People who have been fed a regular diet of solid preaching and Bible study can eat the solid meat rather than a baby's milk, because they are ready for it. If they have been deprived, then their spiritual digestive system, so to speak, is stunted.
"As a sheep grazes, the grass passes straight into the first chamber of the stomach, the rumen . This has a capacity of some four gallons. When the rumen is full, and the sheep has an opportunity, it regurgitates small parcels or 'cuds' of food back to its mouth for chewing and further mixing with saliva. The saliva of a sheep does not contain amylase necessary for digesting starch, so this 'chewing the cud' must merely be to aerate, macerate and mix the saliva more thoroughly to aid digestion of the grass." (1) I went to bed last night with my spiritual food in the first stomach, I guess. No wonder at 3 a.m. I was up chewing my cud. Lovely.
The matter which I was pondering was back to the matter of my post just previous regarding a puffed up composition which I was glad I hadn't posted (did I make myself clear there? Ha.). The person with whom I had interacted was our shepherding pastor...all the more I had felt foolish bugging him with my mess...and he very kindly called to check on me, must have suspected I wasn't doing well. He asked how I was and I answered "Mortified." (Something like a teen girl might say, "Oh, I just died...") The more accurate answer might have been, "Sheepish." Wouldn't that have put it in perspective? On considering that in the night, everything fell into place. When we remember we're sheep in the first place and inherently prone to foolishness, when we've been caught and our curly locks have been cut off, and our pink embarrassment shows through, we should be relieved that it's expected of us to mess up here and there. That's why we need shepherds. If we would never mess up we wouldn't need a Savior, let alone a shepherd.
Our pastor very kindly brought me back up to a standing position and encouraged me to try again at the point I was attempting...the other point, the one that had nothing to do with my self. Still, I was struck by how awful it felt for my pride to have been noticed. Well, in the cud I found that this was another form of pride--the idea that "I should be above pride. Pride should have no place in my life--other people, yes, but never me." Okay, that was painful. Once I acknowledged it, I could go on, and I feel much better now. Good when my expectations of myself are in line with reality...good and low. Pride is painful, I discovered. Being humbled should bring relief. If it doesn't, there's more pride to deal with than has been recognized.
1. http://www.second-opinions.co.uk/carn_herb_comparison.html
2. http://www.danekeclublambs.com/Digestion.html
"The first major difference between the herbivore and the carnivore is the sheer amount of food the herbivore is forced to eat. While a carnivore can usually manage with one small meal a day, the herbivore must eat so much that it is continually eating and its stomach is never empty." (1) Isn't that interesting. And so for us who ever try to thrive on snatching the Scriptures in quick moments, or speed-reading to go on to the next thing, or reading while our minds are miles away, we must be downright emaciated. Think how we'd thrive if we ate like the sheep we are?! Continual eating...we'd stay in the grassy slopes and never on the rocky crags.
"(Sheep) need peace and quiet to ruminate. Healthy sheep and goats spend a third of their life, ruminating, which is belching up a ball of grass from the stomach, chewing it and then swallowing it again (commonly called, 'chewing their cud')." (2) Something here reminds me of Psalm 23. I think there's also a pretty clear parallel in our meditating on Scripture.
"Animals that have been on a high plane of nutrition, with abundant VFA production, have long, luxuriant papillae well suited to promote absorption. In contrast, animals which have been under nutritional deprivation have small, blunted papillae, and require time on a high quality diet to allow for development of their papillae and absorptive capacity." (2) People who have been fed a regular diet of solid preaching and Bible study can eat the solid meat rather than a baby's milk, because they are ready for it. If they have been deprived, then their spiritual digestive system, so to speak, is stunted.
"As a sheep grazes, the grass passes straight into the first chamber of the stomach, the rumen . This has a capacity of some four gallons. When the rumen is full, and the sheep has an opportunity, it regurgitates small parcels or 'cuds' of food back to its mouth for chewing and further mixing with saliva. The saliva of a sheep does not contain amylase necessary for digesting starch, so this 'chewing the cud' must merely be to aerate, macerate and mix the saliva more thoroughly to aid digestion of the grass." (1) I went to bed last night with my spiritual food in the first stomach, I guess. No wonder at 3 a.m. I was up chewing my cud. Lovely.
The matter which I was pondering was back to the matter of my post just previous regarding a puffed up composition which I was glad I hadn't posted (did I make myself clear there? Ha.). The person with whom I had interacted was our shepherding pastor...all the more I had felt foolish bugging him with my mess...and he very kindly called to check on me, must have suspected I wasn't doing well. He asked how I was and I answered "Mortified." (Something like a teen girl might say, "Oh, I just died...") The more accurate answer might have been, "Sheepish." Wouldn't that have put it in perspective? On considering that in the night, everything fell into place. When we remember we're sheep in the first place and inherently prone to foolishness, when we've been caught and our curly locks have been cut off, and our pink embarrassment shows through, we should be relieved that it's expected of us to mess up here and there. That's why we need shepherds. If we would never mess up we wouldn't need a Savior, let alone a shepherd.
Our pastor very kindly brought me back up to a standing position and encouraged me to try again at the point I was attempting...the other point, the one that had nothing to do with my self. Still, I was struck by how awful it felt for my pride to have been noticed. Well, in the cud I found that this was another form of pride--the idea that "I should be above pride. Pride should have no place in my life--other people, yes, but never me." Okay, that was painful. Once I acknowledged it, I could go on, and I feel much better now. Good when my expectations of myself are in line with reality...good and low. Pride is painful, I discovered. Being humbled should bring relief. If it doesn't, there's more pride to deal with than has been recognized.
1. http://www.second-opinions.co.uk/carn_herb_comparison.html
2. http://www.danekeclublambs.com/Digestion.html
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