I was going to name this post "I hate Seth Godin"... but then I realized I already have a "I have John Eldredge" post... would hate to establish a pattern...
But he did really annoy me this morning. Just read this, from his blog this morning:
The first thing you do when you sit down at the computer
Let me guess: check the incoming. Check email or traffic stats or messages from your boss. Check the tweets you follow or the FB status of friends.You've just surrendered not only a block of time but your freshest, best chance to start something new.If you're a tech company or a marketer, your goal is to be the first thing people do when they start their day. If you're an artist, a leader or someone seeking to make a difference, the first thing you do should be to lay tracks to accomplish your goals, not to hear how others have reacted/responded/insisted to what happened yesterday
Where does he get off, assuming I do this?
Never mind the fact that he's absolutely right.
I mean, what right does he have to take me to task and shed light on my complacency and consumer mindset?
Who told him he had permission to provoke me out of my malaise? To inspire me to develop productive habits? To challenge me to do what I know deep down is exactly what I should be doing, but have been frankly too fearful and lazy to do it, choosing instead to retreat, and wonder why I have been stuck in this rut for so long?
Seriously. Who does Seth Godin think he is, anyway?
All I know is that the guy really agitated me this morning.
And I am thanking God for him.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Thursday, March 24, 2011
You're Getting Lukewarmer...
The following is a devotional I was asked to write for my church's blog, in response to the book "Crazy Love" by Francis Chan. It is my reaction to chapter 4: Profile of the Lukewarm
What? Me? Lukewarm?
[insert indignant tone of voice/open mouthed facial expression here]
Me? Why, I work for a church, for crying out loud!
Really? Me?? I help lead worship, after all. I even raise my hands on a regular basis.
Come on, now. Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Do you have any idea how many thousands of brownies I have made in the name of Ministry over the years?
Seriously. Are you kidding? A lukewarm Christian??? Me???
Yeah. Sounds about right.
So I don’t know about you, but for me, reading through this chapter was a singularly unique experience – kind of like surfing shock waves of truth… a bumpy, unsettling and altogether unpleasant experience… and yet somehow ending up safely on the shores of mercy.
The truth is, I see a whole lotta lukewarm in me. Yes, I love Jesus. Yes, I attend church “3 or more times a month” (according to the survey), and when it comes to drinkin’, smokin’ and cussin’, let’s just say the paparazzi would get pretty bored following me around. But those are just behaviors. If I’ve learned one thing about my life with Jesus, he’s more interested in what’s going on inside of me than what you all see on the outside.
Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.
1 Sam 16:7
That’s a scary prospect, because believe me, when I see what’s in my heart, I want to run for the hills (and believe you me, they are not alive with the sound of music). I see a heart that’s holding back way more than it is letting go. I see a heart that still does not completely trust its Maker. I see a heart that, for all God has done to heal it, is still more broken than I care to admit.
It hurts to look at yourself that honestly. I do not like it much. But something happens when I confront the ugly, painful truth about myself. As I humbly repent (even while bracing for yet another scathing self abasement), Mercy shows up… and NOT only doesn’t spew me out of His mouth, as I know I deserve… but instead, kisses me right where it hurts.
Mercy and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed
each other.
Psalm 85:10
Who would’ve thought that in the most frighteningly vulnerable act of exposing my lukewarm heart before a holy God… that I’d find Grace?
Ah yes. Grace for the lukewarm. Not grace for the lukewarm to stay lukewarm. But grace to ride out those wild waves all the way to the shore where Mercy meets Truth... where a girl like me experiences transformation.
What? Me? Lukewarm?
[insert indignant tone of voice/open mouthed facial expression here]
Me? Why, I work for a church, for crying out loud!
Really? Me?? I help lead worship, after all. I even raise my hands on a regular basis.
Come on, now. Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Do you have any idea how many thousands of brownies I have made in the name of Ministry over the years?
Seriously. Are you kidding? A lukewarm Christian??? Me???
Yeah. Sounds about right.
So I don’t know about you, but for me, reading through this chapter was a singularly unique experience – kind of like surfing shock waves of truth… a bumpy, unsettling and altogether unpleasant experience… and yet somehow ending up safely on the shores of mercy.
The truth is, I see a whole lotta lukewarm in me. Yes, I love Jesus. Yes, I attend church “3 or more times a month” (according to the survey), and when it comes to drinkin’, smokin’ and cussin’, let’s just say the paparazzi would get pretty bored following me around. But those are just behaviors. If I’ve learned one thing about my life with Jesus, he’s more interested in what’s going on inside of me than what you all see on the outside.
Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.
1 Sam 16:7
That’s a scary prospect, because believe me, when I see what’s in my heart, I want to run for the hills (and believe you me, they are not alive with the sound of music). I see a heart that’s holding back way more than it is letting go. I see a heart that still does not completely trust its Maker. I see a heart that, for all God has done to heal it, is still more broken than I care to admit.
It hurts to look at yourself that honestly. I do not like it much. But something happens when I confront the ugly, painful truth about myself. As I humbly repent (even while bracing for yet another scathing self abasement), Mercy shows up… and NOT only doesn’t spew me out of His mouth, as I know I deserve… but instead, kisses me right where it hurts.
Mercy and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed
each other.
Psalm 85:10
Who would’ve thought that in the most frighteningly vulnerable act of exposing my lukewarm heart before a holy God… that I’d find Grace?
Ah yes. Grace for the lukewarm. Not grace for the lukewarm to stay lukewarm. But grace to ride out those wild waves all the way to the shore where Mercy meets Truth... where a girl like me experiences transformation.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Pretend Cooking
So my daughter has a little friend over for a "play date" (and no, this is not a post about remembering back in the day when we didn't have to make an appointment to play or wear seat belts or helmets, and basically cheated death every day of our young lives... but please do feel free to roll your eyes at the whole "then/now" contrasts to childhood, nonetheless)...
Anyways, as I was saying... they're on this play date, and announce to me that they are bored.
(this is also not a commentary on how we have done our kids a disservice by not allowing them to be bored but feel a sick, soccer-mom obligation to fill every waking moment of their lives with endless activity and fun, fun, fun, lest they are forced to engage their own minds in the creative thinking process and thus develop coping skills)
Ok, so what was I saying? Oh yeah. Play date. Bored. Right.
After a moment of dumb staring and awkward silence, when they realized I actually meant it when I wasn't going to oblige their request to provide free onboard cruise ship entertainment to their sorry little consumer oriented ADD selves ... they came up with an idea (ok, I DID offer some suggestions... I'm not a completely monster), they decided they wanted to "pretend" cook.
Great! The kitchen is a laboratory of the imagination, after all. Pots, pans, measuring spoons, sharp knives - what's not to love about that? I am on board with this idea.
Curiously, though, when I suggested they make something "real", like brownies or cookies, they rebuffed. They wanted to use "real" food in a "real" kitchen mind you, not that fake plastic crap in a Little Tykes plastic kitchen. That's for babies. They're no babies. Come on, now. They wanted the authenticity of the environment, and the ingredients. But that's where it ended. They just wanted to dump all of the contents of my refrigerator into various pots, pans and bowls and mix them up into thoroughly inedible and disgusting concoctions.
Ok, so the argument can be made that they just wanted to experiment, test the boundaries of the culinary arts with their young, unmolded minds, if you will... to not be held back by the "Man", or his hard and fast rules... Recipes, shmecipes! They're only 9, for crying out loud. Why encumber them with limitations so soon, when life will do that soon enough?
Yeah, yeah. I get that. But it doesn't fit with the point I want to make, so dismiss it from your mind immediately.
Looking at the disaster of my kitchen, and the many, many bowls of Italian dressing mixed with God knows what, I realized that I see a lot of myself in this "pretend cooking" business. I see my relationship with God and His Church.
I want authenticity. The real deal. I'm not satisfied with "playing Church". I'm no baby. Come on, now. Give me a real environment with real people to work with. Give me transparency, and people who are the "real deal". Give me authenticity in Church or give me death, man. I want to be surrounded by "realness". I just don't necessarily want to produce anything "real". I want to be a pretend cook. Just like those sorry little consumer oriented ADD kids destroying my kitchen.
For all of my big talk, and spouting off about authenticity, it is occuring to me that I don't really want to be real myself.
I think this is a problem.
I think God might be dealing with me. For real.
Anyways, as I was saying... they're on this play date, and announce to me that they are bored.
(this is also not a commentary on how we have done our kids a disservice by not allowing them to be bored but feel a sick, soccer-mom obligation to fill every waking moment of their lives with endless activity and fun, fun, fun, lest they are forced to engage their own minds in the creative thinking process and thus develop coping skills)
Ok, so what was I saying? Oh yeah. Play date. Bored. Right.
After a moment of dumb staring and awkward silence, when they realized I actually meant it when I wasn't going to oblige their request to provide free onboard cruise ship entertainment to their sorry little consumer oriented ADD selves ... they came up with an idea (ok, I DID offer some suggestions... I'm not a completely monster), they decided they wanted to "pretend" cook.
Great! The kitchen is a laboratory of the imagination, after all. Pots, pans, measuring spoons, sharp knives - what's not to love about that? I am on board with this idea.
Curiously, though, when I suggested they make something "real", like brownies or cookies, they rebuffed. They wanted to use "real" food in a "real" kitchen mind you, not that fake plastic crap in a Little Tykes plastic kitchen. That's for babies. They're no babies. Come on, now. They wanted the authenticity of the environment, and the ingredients. But that's where it ended. They just wanted to dump all of the contents of my refrigerator into various pots, pans and bowls and mix them up into thoroughly inedible and disgusting concoctions.
Ok, so the argument can be made that they just wanted to experiment, test the boundaries of the culinary arts with their young, unmolded minds, if you will... to not be held back by the "Man", or his hard and fast rules... Recipes, shmecipes! They're only 9, for crying out loud. Why encumber them with limitations so soon, when life will do that soon enough?
Yeah, yeah. I get that. But it doesn't fit with the point I want to make, so dismiss it from your mind immediately.
Looking at the disaster of my kitchen, and the many, many bowls of Italian dressing mixed with God knows what, I realized that I see a lot of myself in this "pretend cooking" business. I see my relationship with God and His Church.
I want authenticity. The real deal. I'm not satisfied with "playing Church". I'm no baby. Come on, now. Give me a real environment with real people to work with. Give me transparency, and people who are the "real deal". Give me authenticity in Church or give me death, man. I want to be surrounded by "realness". I just don't necessarily want to produce anything "real". I want to be a pretend cook. Just like those sorry little consumer oriented ADD kids destroying my kitchen.
For all of my big talk, and spouting off about authenticity, it is occuring to me that I don't really want to be real myself.
I think this is a problem.
I think God might be dealing with me. For real.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Man of God
I wrote a song this morning for a 98 Episcopalian priest, whose birthday we are celebrating today. He is an incredible man, who has lived an incredible life. Someday I'll have to tell you about him.
If I ever dare, maybe I'll even sing it for you sometime ;^)
In the mean time, here are the lyrics to the song:
Man of God
Son of Love
You've travelled far
on paths unseen
on roads unknown
in this world that's not your home
But on this journey through a strange land
you found you were not alone
For every step through every foreign place
was guided by a Stranger
who somehow you'd always known...
Man of God
Son of Love
You've suffered loss
Like everyone
Like no one else
and you keep moving on
Yet through the sorrow and the sadness
you found you were not alone
For every tear you shed was not in vain
but collected by the Stranger who somehow you'd always known...
And now your Father is no Stranger
You've drawn nigh unto Him
And Has has drawn nigh unto you
Man of God
Son of Love
This world is not your home
Jesus Christ, Son of God
Has called you as His own
If I ever dare, maybe I'll even sing it for you sometime ;^)
In the mean time, here are the lyrics to the song:
Man of God
Son of Love
You've travelled far
on paths unseen
on roads unknown
in this world that's not your home
But on this journey through a strange land
you found you were not alone
For every step through every foreign place
was guided by a Stranger
who somehow you'd always known...
Man of God
Son of Love
You've suffered loss
Like everyone
Like no one else
and you keep moving on
Yet through the sorrow and the sadness
you found you were not alone
For every tear you shed was not in vain
but collected by the Stranger who somehow you'd always known...
And now your Father is no Stranger
You've drawn nigh unto Him
And Has has drawn nigh unto you
Man of God
Son of Love
This world is not your home
Jesus Christ, Son of God
Has called you as His own
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
What? Me Afraid? Nev...
I'm not exactly the fearful type.
Ok, except for clowns. They freak me out.
But seriously, as a girl with a fair amount of, hmmm how shall we say - *issues*? - one thing I can honestly say does not plague me is a whole heck of a lot of phobias.
When I was single I had this married friend who would call me all panic stricken when her husband would be away for the night, like some kind f pathetic damsel in distress... "can you come stay over?" What? Are you serious? Of course I did go help her out, lest you think me completely heartless... but I'm just sayin, I never did get that "afraid to be alone" thing.
So yeah, I'm ok to be alone, not afraid of the dark, or heights, or public speaking, have never feared for my life (even when wisdom dictated that I probably should have, in my younger, foolish days...)
But here's the thing I have learned about fear:
It operates under virtually the same premise as faith.
We have to exercise it for it to have any power in our lives. And like faith, it comes by hearing. Whatever we hear the most of, is what we tend to believe. What we tend to act on. Oh yeah, and the more we practice it, the more of a defnining force it is in our lives.
Gosh, when I look at it that way, I guess fear isn't such a stranger after all.
Oh snap.
It is a stunning realization that in many ways, my life is more accurately defined by fear than by faith. Fear of stepping out, and taking a risk. Fear of failure. Fear that God does not hear me, or worse, that He's not particularly interested in me. Fear of rejection. Fear that my heart does not matter to Him.
It's stupid, I know, all these fears. I should know better. But somehow, I have given fear a better place at my table than I have given faith. It has subtley taken over.
I have this feeling that if I exercised faith more frequently, more readily, this stronghold of fear wouldn't be so, well, strong.
Ok, except for clowns. They freak me out.
But seriously, as a girl with a fair amount of, hmmm how shall we say - *issues*? - one thing I can honestly say does not plague me is a whole heck of a lot of phobias.
When I was single I had this married friend who would call me all panic stricken when her husband would be away for the night, like some kind f pathetic damsel in distress... "can you come stay over?" What? Are you serious? Of course I did go help her out, lest you think me completely heartless... but I'm just sayin, I never did get that "afraid to be alone" thing.
So yeah, I'm ok to be alone, not afraid of the dark, or heights, or public speaking, have never feared for my life (even when wisdom dictated that I probably should have, in my younger, foolish days...)
But here's the thing I have learned about fear:
It operates under virtually the same premise as faith.
We have to exercise it for it to have any power in our lives. And like faith, it comes by hearing. Whatever we hear the most of, is what we tend to believe. What we tend to act on. Oh yeah, and the more we practice it, the more of a defnining force it is in our lives.
Gosh, when I look at it that way, I guess fear isn't such a stranger after all.
Oh snap.
It is a stunning realization that in many ways, my life is more accurately defined by fear than by faith. Fear of stepping out, and taking a risk. Fear of failure. Fear that God does not hear me, or worse, that He's not particularly interested in me. Fear of rejection. Fear that my heart does not matter to Him.
It's stupid, I know, all these fears. I should know better. But somehow, I have given fear a better place at my table than I have given faith. It has subtley taken over.
I have this feeling that if I exercised faith more frequently, more readily, this stronghold of fear wouldn't be so, well, strong.
There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear.
1 John 4:18
I guess that's another parallel between fear and faith. Both have an object. Both require trusting something, or Someone. If the object of faith is my Savior, and trusting Him builds me up... what then, or who is the object of my fear? Who is tearing me down in exchange for my trust?
Must be me.
Yeah, that's not good. I should stop trusting in me... don't you think?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
What the...
So Richard Dawkins is upset that "religious" people have a reputation for being generous. More generous than, say, non-religious people. It offends his sensibilities.
Okay...
So, to assuage his pain, he has launched a campaign, calling all atheists to donate to the Haitian relief effort.
I think that's great. And though you surely would not appreciate my saying so, God bless you, Richard Dawkins.
The Haitians are being helped. That's what matters. I seriously doubt that they care where it's coming from. For that matter, I seriously doubt whether ANY relief organizations are checking people's faith credentials at the door... except for maybe, his.
So wait, let me get this straight. Are you saying, Mr. Dawkins, that the faithful need NOT apply? For WHAT reason again? Oh yeah... you don't like that they are generous?
Okay...
Have to admit, I find that a little strange. Isn't the point right now to help, PERIOD? Is there ANY reason to be exploiting the tragedy in Haiti right now as some kind of weirded out competition between the sacred and the secular's altruistic tendencies?
Your call your website a clear thinking oasis. Hmmm... gotta admit, I'm having a hard time with that one.
Okay...
So, to assuage his pain, he has launched a campaign, calling all atheists to donate to the Haitian relief effort.
I think that's great. And though you surely would not appreciate my saying so, God bless you, Richard Dawkins.
The Haitians are being helped. That's what matters. I seriously doubt that they care where it's coming from. For that matter, I seriously doubt whether ANY relief organizations are checking people's faith credentials at the door... except for maybe, his.
So wait, let me get this straight. Are you saying, Mr. Dawkins, that the faithful need NOT apply? For WHAT reason again? Oh yeah... you don't like that they are generous?
Okay...
Have to admit, I find that a little strange. Isn't the point right now to help, PERIOD? Is there ANY reason to be exploiting the tragedy in Haiti right now as some kind of weirded out competition between the sacred and the secular's altruistic tendencies?
Your call your website a clear thinking oasis. Hmmm... gotta admit, I'm having a hard time with that one.
Friday, January 15, 2010
can I suck back in a few words?
I thought about deleting the previous post altogether.
But once they're out there, you can't really suck the words back in, now can you?
I suppose you can pretend you never said them, but, well, that's not playing fair now, is it?
I spoke too harshly about Pat Robertson.
While I still maintain that his timing and delivery need some work, for me to make the accusation that he is a "charlatan" (oh wait, I DID delete that one... but at least I left "disingeneous", so um, there you have it)... can't say I don't feel a bit chastised about that one.
I am sorry, Holy Spirit. I think I am altogether like you, but I am not. Forgive me. I have been as judgmental against him as I claimed he was being.
I also neglected to mention all the good things Pat Robertson's organization has done, and continues to do. What have I done to reach out to the world? Not so very much.
I am sorry for being so quick to speak.
But once they're out there, you can't really suck the words back in, now can you?
I suppose you can pretend you never said them, but, well, that's not playing fair now, is it?
I spoke too harshly about Pat Robertson.
While I still maintain that his timing and delivery need some work, for me to make the accusation that he is a "charlatan" (oh wait, I DID delete that one... but at least I left "disingeneous", so um, there you have it)... can't say I don't feel a bit chastised about that one.
I am sorry, Holy Spirit. I think I am altogether like you, but I am not. Forgive me. I have been as judgmental against him as I claimed he was being.
I also neglected to mention all the good things Pat Robertson's organization has done, and continues to do. What have I done to reach out to the world? Not so very much.
I am sorry for being so quick to speak.
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