Source: Taking a Vacation from God?
Wrote this two years ago and I still believe it’s true.
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks during intermission.
“Do you want to leave the play?” my nineteen-year-old son asked.
“No, I’m going to see how this ends. Surely, there’s some value.”
People may not agree with me, but there was nothing redeemable about the musical, “The Book of Mormon.” I found it crude and offensive on multiple levels.
I’m not Mormon, and I rarely attend a play that I haven’t reviewed before hand. However, my son persuaded me while we were in London.
“It won a Tony Award. It’s been running for a long time.” My son later apologized for also going into this performance blind!
Really? This represents America’s best?
However, nothing is wasted.
I tend to live in a Christian cocoon. Rubbing elbows with our post-modern culture is always an eye-opener.
What I found offensive—swearing and overt sexual language—entertained the audience. They lapped up the Jr…
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I’ve taken a short coffee break from blogging, however, I’m still freelance writing.
My story “Tender Mercies” appeared in the latest Chicken Soup for the Soul:Military Families. My story shows the challenges and concerns that I faced when my husband was deployed overseas and we had young kids.
Whether you’re a service member, or the spouse, child, parent, or friend of one, you’ll find inspiration, support, and appreciation in this collection of personal stories about military families.
As Memorial Day approaches, may I encourage you to purchase this book for yourself or someone you know who’s serving in the military.
You’ll also be helping the USO because royalties from this book goes to support the USO which supports military veterans and their families across the globe.
Are you living in a cave of despair? Going through a physical or emotional trial? Then, you’ll want to read these thoughts from a man who lives with ALS.
Source: A Dispatch From My Cave
Does the word sacrifice leave a rancid taste in your mouth? Why does that word have to be a negative connotation? What if the purpose of sacrifice was releasing something (maybe even something good) to receive what’s best?
Last month, I wanted what I wanted. What I wanted is mine to know. But oh, how I clung to it with selfish hands when a thought fluttered into my mind and hovered there. A lightbulb clicked.
Could I . . . would I give up this thing I wanted? Were there things I refused to sacrifice? I cringed to think I might have other gods before GOD!
The Lord knows I love him, I reasoned, without sacrificing something to prove I love Him. Lord, is there no other way?
“No other way.” Weren’t those the words Jesus spoke before he went to the cross?
Sweating drops of blood, Jesus knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane and begged God to remove “this cup” from him. Jesus wasn’t refusing to give up some pleasure, or vice, or “thing” that stood between him and God the Father. He asked if there was some other way to atone for people’s sins than death by crucifixion.
However, Jesus only wanted what the Father wanted. So he said, “Not my will, but Yours.”
Do I want what God wants?
I remember a woman who once sat beside me, crying buckets of anguish. Her red, puffy eyelids were squeezed shut. Tension riveted her body so that even her hands were clenched in fists as though subliminally curling herself into a fetal position.
I’d tried to soothe her with words. Then I held my tongue and stroked her knuckles, threading my fingers between her fists to gently prod her hands open so she could release the stress and sorrow. As I massaged her hands, her tears subsided. She breathed deeply and relaxed.
Is that me, Lord? Holding onto regrets? Worry gripped between my fists? Clinging to what I want instead of receiving what you want for me? Even if it feels painful in the moment?
“So often man, crying out for some blessing, has yet such tight hold on some earth-treasure that he has no hand to receive Mine, as I hold it out in love.” (God Calling)
Lord Jesus, help me open my hands, knowing your will for me is better than any “thing” I hold dear in this world.
Show me how to spread my fingers, palms up . . . the same way you stretched your arms wide when they nailed your hands to a cross . . . so I can release whatever’s inside my fists. And receive Your very best even in this moment.