We often think that when OUR picture of God breaks, then that means God is broken. But...
Until our picture of God is broken and we chose not to put it back together ourselves, to let it break...only then can we truly be humble, and let Him put it back together for us, in a way far more beautiful and amazing than we'd ever imagined.
When we think that we can hold God in our hand (and say I have Him all figured out), then He can't really hold us in His hand.
~byproducts of a conversation with Emily last Sabbath : )
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Same Peach
I had yet another enlightening conversation with a two-year old the other day:
Seth wasn't happy about the peach on his plate...It took me a minute to fiqure out what the problem was.
"You want Anaya's peach?"
"Yets."
"But I divided up the same peach!--it's on both of your plates..." I said in desperation.
God reminded me: Saralyn, don't you do that to me too sometimes...wishing for someone else's blessings...when my grace is the same for everyone. My Son has paid the price for all...He's the "same peach." Why do you want something else when I've already given you everything you need?
Seth wasn't happy about the peach on his plate...It took me a minute to fiqure out what the problem was.
"You want Anaya's peach?"
"Yets."
"But I divided up the same peach!--it's on both of your plates..." I said in desperation.
God reminded me: Saralyn, don't you do that to me too sometimes...wishing for someone else's blessings...when my grace is the same for everyone. My Son has paid the price for all...He's the "same peach." Why do you want something else when I've already given you everything you need?
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Tickling God?
The other day, Anaya, my 4-year-old friend, and I were talking about heaven...how wonderful it would be and what we were looking forward to about it.
"I'm going to tickle Jesus!" She excitedly told me. I laughed. Then smiled. Why anyone would enjoy such a thing is beyond my comprehension since I've always considered it to be merciless torture. Perhaps "tickling Jesus" would sound sounds sacrilegious to some. But context can make all the difference. To her, tickling is a wonderful thing, one of the greatest joys, and purest delights--why wouldn't Jesus want to be tickled too?!
I'm so glad that God knows our hearts. We've been told that Jesus knows everything we go through, everything we feel. His heart cries when we cry. He rejoices when we rejoice. So surely, He would understand a little child's gift of one of her favorite things.
After a brief pause, I said, "I'm sure Jesus would love to have you tickle him..." In my mind I pictured Jesus smiling and laughing with her, enjoyed her excitement. "You know, there's lots of ways we can tickle God?" I began..."there's lots of things we can do that make Him happy just like tickling makes you happy." I think I began to lose her attention here, but it got me thinking.
What do you do that tickles God's heart?
"I'm going to tickle Jesus!" She excitedly told me. I laughed. Then smiled. Why anyone would enjoy such a thing is beyond my comprehension since I've always considered it to be merciless torture. Perhaps "tickling Jesus" would sound sounds sacrilegious to some. But context can make all the difference. To her, tickling is a wonderful thing, one of the greatest joys, and purest delights--why wouldn't Jesus want to be tickled too?!
I'm so glad that God knows our hearts. We've been told that Jesus knows everything we go through, everything we feel. His heart cries when we cry. He rejoices when we rejoice. So surely, He would understand a little child's gift of one of her favorite things.
After a brief pause, I said, "I'm sure Jesus would love to have you tickle him..." In my mind I pictured Jesus smiling and laughing with her, enjoyed her excitement. "You know, there's lots of ways we can tickle God?" I began..."there's lots of things we can do that make Him happy just like tickling makes you happy." I think I began to lose her attention here, but it got me thinking.
What do you do that tickles God's heart?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
mosey pe-ase
God uses children to teach me so many lessons....
I've had lots of chances to learn things today, but one incident stands out above the rest:
"more mosey,"
(cup taps on table)
"mosey," "mosey pe-ase"
echo from across the table
"smosthey! smosthey!"
after a few times I fiqure out that to one and two-year old boys, mosey and smosthey is what I call smoothie. I laughed at the sight of them there sippy cups in hand, still part-way full but wanting more "smosthey." Finally I pour a few more drops into their cups and they start drinking them again. But this doesn't last long.
"more mosey,"
(cup taps on table)
"mosey," "mosey pe-ase"
echo from across the table
"smosthey! smosthey!"
"But you don't need anymore," I told them, "you still have more left in your cup. I'll make more smoothie if we need it. Drink what you already have then I can give you more." Silently I was thinking and that way it won't get wasted when you don't use it all...
At that moment God reminded me, that's the way I feel about the blessings I place in your life. So often you want to make sure you'll have "enough" before you share. So often you refuse to empty your cup, to give all your life, all that you are, have, think, do... to me. And I can't fill you when you do that. I won't run out of blessings to give you, but there's no point in my giving them when you aren't going to need or use them. I long to pour out so much more to you than I do, but until you give what you have, how can I?
I've had lots of chances to learn things today, but one incident stands out above the rest:
"more mosey,"
(cup taps on table)
"mosey," "mosey pe-ase"
echo from across the table
"smosthey! smosthey!"
after a few times I fiqure out that to one and two-year old boys, mosey and smosthey is what I call smoothie. I laughed at the sight of them there sippy cups in hand, still part-way full but wanting more "smosthey." Finally I pour a few more drops into their cups and they start drinking them again. But this doesn't last long.
"more mosey,"
(cup taps on table)
"mosey," "mosey pe-ase"
echo from across the table
"smosthey! smosthey!"
"But you don't need anymore," I told them, "you still have more left in your cup. I'll make more smoothie if we need it. Drink what you already have then I can give you more." Silently I was thinking and that way it won't get wasted when you don't use it all...
At that moment God reminded me, that's the way I feel about the blessings I place in your life. So often you want to make sure you'll have "enough" before you share. So often you refuse to empty your cup, to give all your life, all that you are, have, think, do... to me. And I can't fill you when you do that. I won't run out of blessings to give you, but there's no point in my giving them when you aren't going to need or use them. I long to pour out so much more to you than I do, but until you give what you have, how can I?
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Live Out Thy Life...
For me 'twas not the truth you taught,
To you so clear, to me so dim;
But when you came to me you brought
A sense of Him.
And from your eyes He beckons me,
And from your heart His love is shed;
Till I lose sight of you and see,
The Christ instead.
~Author Unknown
To you so clear, to me so dim;
But when you came to me you brought
A sense of Him.
And from your eyes He beckons me,
And from your heart His love is shed;
Till I lose sight of you and see,
The Christ instead.
~Author Unknown
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)