The power

Ok, so being a Children's Ministry Director doesn't come with a whole lot of power and stature. But there is one week where I inherit ultimate power with endless possibilities. The type of power that allows me to require my co-workers to dress up in crazy costumes that include gold jeans, leather pants, and shiny lizard-skin shirts. Now pull your mind out of whatever gutter you've found yourself and realize that our VBS theme is about special agents in space. Hence the gold, leather, and lizard skin.

Obviously since it only happens once a year, I'm getting lots of pictures of this hilarious event. Maybe I'll use them as blackmail for a new playground or more cheerios. Hey, a girl's gotta use what she has available to her.

Gardens

I find it interesting that Christ is referred to as the last Adam. For the first and only God-Man is tied closely to the first man made by God.

In fact, when God created Adam, he formed him out of dust and dirt, he wasn't born, he didn't grow up, he just became. And yet, Christ, who was human and yet also God, was formed in the womb. He grew by his cells dividing and multiplying, forming organs and body parts. Both created by God in body and form, both perfect in their creation, and each would face a choice that would define their lives and ours.

Adam dwelled in the presence of God, he walked and talked with Him (sidenote: this amazes me and blows my mind) in the Garden of Eden. He didn't suffer hunger, thirst, want, or any other trial or need we now find part of our life. Adam's body was perfect, complete, and eternal. His existence was idyllic until one fateful choice. The one time he faced the option to oppose God he jumped at it. There is no record of Adam struggling with his decision, debating the outcome or consequences. The Bible simply says he ate. In that one choice the path of man was eternally altered.

Christ, on the other hand, was born into temptation. He entered the world not in a divine body but one that began breaking down the moment he took his first breath. Christ suffered every trial, tribulation, need, etc. that man would encounter: hunger, thirst, temptation (those three taking place at the hand of Satan in a face to face showdown), loneliness, brokenness, deception, rejection, and more. In the midst of all these temptations Christ stood firm, he suffered through the trials but He didn't fall to the temptation.

Yet one night we get a glimpse of the man Christ and his toughest trial. Alone in a garden, on the eve of His death, we see Christ wrestle with temptation. He is in anguish, both physically and mentally, a battle waring within himself. Christ could have walked away. He could have made the choice to not follow through with the cross. If he couldn't than why the anguish? Why the pleading with God for a different way?

This is where we see the greatest difference between Adam and Christ. Adam chose self in his garden while Christ chose us in his. Both decisions reach into eternity and change the course of man. One brought death and the other life. One was made without a thought, instinct maybe, or just the ease of sin. The other was made after a battle of wills, sweat, tears, and pleading.

What do I learn about myself in these two men in their gardens with their choices? Are my choices for self and sin, made without a thought, an instinct that is deep within me? Do I battle with God to chose His will and way, pleading for something else, but submitting to His leading? I don't think the battle is that wrong when it signifies that I know His truth and I'm honest with my struggle to live it. The wrong is how quickly I can chose self without a thought to Him.

We each possess a part of both Adams. Our flesh is born of the first one always seeking self with no thought to the consequences. Our spirit is born of the second, loving God so much we battle the other to submit to His will

I hope when I find myself in my gardens, I'm willing to have the battle with God, to suffer the anguish and pain that comes when both my parts war over what I will chose.

It's lonely at the top

My friend, co-worker, and fellow blogger Ben posted something recently about loneliness vs. being alone. Go read the post for yourself, because it's well thought out and interesting (Ben's one of those good thinker types), but I'll give you the cliff notes version. He's thinking trought the difference, if there is one, between loneliness and being alone and how we interact with those two states of being.

In a related situation, I was talking with a friend recently about what had been going on in our lives and as she began to describe what she was feeling and experiencing I could relate. As she grasped for a one-word description I ventured a guess with "lonely". That was it, but not specifically the loneliness that comes with being absent from people or even a feeling of aloneness, but more of a longing and emptiness that you recognized slowly at first and then with overwhelming depth. It was something more than related to people but internal, personal, and not easily solved by immersing oneself in the crowd.

I have more thoughts on this and an answer to Ben's questions posed over on his post, but I would love to hear your thoughts.

How do you define loneliness? Being alone?

Is there a difference between the two, if so what?

One Look

The same eyes that he had looked into numerous times and yet at that moment they carried a different message.

Luke 22:31-34

31"Simon, Simon, behold,Satan demanded to have you,that he might sift you like wheat, 32but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again,strengthen your brothers." 33Peter said to him, "Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death." 34Jesus said, "I tell you, Peter, the rooster will not crow this day, until you deny three times that you know me."

Luke 22: 54-62

54Then they seized him and led him away, bringing him into the high priest’s house, and Peter was following at a distance. 55 And when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and sat down together, Peter sat down among them. 56Then a servant girl, seeing him as he sat in the light and looking closely at him, said, "This man also was with him." 57But he denied it, saying, "Woman, I do not know him." 58And a little later someone else saw him and said, "You also are one of them." But Peter said, "Man, I am not." 59And after an interval of about an hour still another insisted, saying, "Certainly this man also was with him, for he too is a Galilean." 60But Peter said, "Man, I do not know what you are talking about." And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. 61And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, "Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times." 62And he went out and wept bitterly.

We want to believe that there was judgement in that look, an "I told you so" or "I'm so disappointed in you". And yet, I believe that within those eyes was a look of deep compassion and love. This was Christ's last teaching moment for Peter, the last lesson to impart before His death. All the judgement that Peter felt in his failure was of his own creation. Christ looked not to condemn but to love, to remind Peter of all His words. Oh Peter would stumble and fall, his failure would be public and piercing, but redemption was promised, and a greater redemption than Peter could even imagine.

I like to theorize what Peter felt and thought in that moment. Humiliation, fear, and maybe even a jab at his pride. For it was pride that Jesus had tried to point out to Peter, it was pride that had to be broken for love to fully exist. When Peter met eyes with Jesus, I wonder if he played in his head the conversation from earlier, if he heard every word as if Christ was speaking them in that one look. But I think Peter focused in on just a portion of that conversation, the one that pointed out his failure and faults. We do that too. It's hard to remember the promise of forgiveness and redemption when we're face to face with betraying the one we love, watching our pride in action, and doing it all after swearing we're better than that.

I also wonder if Peter could grasp Christ's words and promise without experiencing them come to fruition. Can we know the depth of our pride without seeing it exposed to the world? Can we hear the empty promises we make out of passionate excitement without seeing our failure to keep them? Can we know the depth of love and forgiveness without knowing our desperate need? And lastly, could Peter understand the ultimate fulfillment of Christ's promise for forgiveness and redemption without seeing his friend and Lord on the cross?

Why is grace so much harder to accept than judgement? Is it because as humans we naturally posses judgement in our hearts? This isn't to say that judgement is evil, but our version of it, riddled with animosity, hatred, and pride is a far cry from the righteous judgement of a holy and perfect God. No, I think that human judgement is easy and so we expect it, sometimes we even feel more comfortable with it because we know it and we can to an extent control it. But grace, the grace of a God who knows you will deny Him and yet promises you He will forgive and make you better and then proves that so vividly by marching to the cross and dying, that is foreign to us.

And so when we read this story, I think we often assume that Christ eyes betray His disappointment, His anger, His judgement. And yet, those aren't the eyes of a Savior, those aren't the eyes of a Redeemer. The one who would willfully lay down His life must have eyes filled with love deeper than we can convey with our own.

And in that one look, Peter probably missed the lesson. It took three long days for Him to understand that he had spent three years looking into the eyes of one who would not bring judgement but life.

One look.

How long will we miss the lesson?


***Thank you to my dear friend Margaret, who in her words of wisdom and encouragement gave me the idea to write this post.***

Question

Which invention had a greater impact . . . . sliced bread or the internet?


Discuss.


Really, I want your opinion. I'll share mine eventually.

Oh so true . . . . .

In case you didn't know I am a Children's Ministry Director at a church in Fort Worth. Wow, that's a lot of personal information to put up on the internet, but some of you think my real name is Kpinion so really I'm not worried about the crazies out there tracking me down. (please note I'm seriously considering naming any daughter I have kpinion, because I might as well prepare myself for the type of little girl I will produce!)

Well ,with this job comes lots of opportunities to laugh at myself and what I do, ex. that time a 2 year old puked all over me right before I went up on stage in front of a hundred or so people. That was fun . . . . and yet somehow pretty normal in my world.

So when I found this post on an amazing blog, http://stufffchristianslike.blogspot.com , it rang oh so true.

Leftovers

Memories of the feast still linger in my head.

I sit at a table set with such splendor, beautiful china and silver laid out for each person. Dishes overflowing with food fulfilling every desire. My eyes drift to the Host, seated at the head of the table. And even from a distance He has the ability to make each guest feel like they are at an intimate dinner alone with Him. We share amazing food and deep conversation. A free flow of talking and listening, sharing fears, hopes, and dreams. Long after we begin, the food never diminishes and the conversation never lulls. Surely the Host wishes His guests would return to their own homes, their own lives. But no, His home is open to all for as long as we desire to stay. He never tires of hearing me speak, He never falters with an answer of wisdom or encouragement. At time we just sit, enjoying the presence of the other, words unnecessary.

And then in the midst of comfort and belonging, my mind turned to other things. Deadlines, to-do lists, my life outside of the banquet began to tug at my thoughts. Somehow, someway I found myself pulling out of conversation, avoiding eye contact with the Host. I withdrew from the midst of them.

As I sit here, far from the banqueting table and the presence of the Host my thoughts return to that time. I look at the plate of leftovers He sent with me. The food is the same and serves the function of nourishment, but it's a shadow of the feast it once was. And while it sustains me, it fails to fill me. The memories of those moments, sitting face to face with Him flood my mind. I yearn to be back there, feasting on new, fresh food that never lacks, sitting so intimately with Him, hearing His voice and knowing He hears mine. Yet, here I sit, eating leftovers from the place I want to be.

The invitation is always open. The Host glances at the empty chair waiting for my return, for the conversation to flow free again, for Him to share with me the bounty of His feast, His encouraging words of wisdom, and an ear who listens intently knowing my heart.

Even knowing my place is always open, I once again pull out the leftovers and mourn that I am not at the table. Desiring so much to return to where I once sat and for some reason struggling to find my way back. And so I pull out the leftovers again.