First Love

I remember reading Keith Green's biography No Compromise in my twenties and being in awe of how he yearned for Jesus after his conversion to Christianity.  It honestly felt like Keith loved Jesus so much, hungered for him so much, needed him so much, that Jesus couldn't stand the separation of heaven and earth and so he brought Keith up to be with Him.  What a beautiful picture.  It also shone a light on how hollow my own faith was.  I remember weeping in my bedroom because I didn't feel that "spark" in my faith any more.  It reminded me what I had lost.

When I was little I struggled with night terrors so badly that I had to see a psychologist (who was also the pastor of our church) for about a year, and I didn't sleep in my own bedroom from about third grade through fifth grade. I was terrified of demons and vampires (obviously this was pre-Edward Cullen.)  During that year of therapy, my psych/pastor taught me how to live life with the constant knowledge that Jesus was right beside me and I could talk to him (even just in my thoughts) any time I wanted... especially when I was scared.  So I did.  It was kind of like having an imaginary friend who I knew could kick butt... just in case any vampires were lurking nearby.  Except I knew he wasn't imaginary.  I remember keeping a running conversation with Jesus throughout the day about a million different little girl things and knowing what he was saying back to me.  

When did I lose that?  When did I stop needing him?  Even today, as The Pastor's wife, I have to remind myself in all my busy-ness that I still need Jesus.  I work in a church office.  I sit in church for two services each week.  I sing songs of praise from the stage every Sunday.  I go to meetings and plan things for the church.  I read through the Bible every year.  I counsel people about Him.  I pray to Him with others.  I know all the right answers.  But somehow, I let myself forget that I really, desperately need Him and instead just go through the motions.  Even in about as Jesus-y an environment as you can get.  

I don't walk around in a little praise bubble.  I make decisions without praying about them first.  I try to solve problems without giving them to God.  I zone in and out while I'm reading His love letter to me.  I sin in thought, word, and deed.  I sin by omission. I worry and fret.  I let my eyes and ears see and hear things that aren't holy.  And I try to justify it all.  In other words, I'm a big, fat sinner who has to be continually reminded not to walk away from the one who has saved me.  I am Hosea's Gomer. 

I need to remember the innocence and assurance that I felt when I let myself rest in Him.    I need to be reminded what it's like to walk daily with Him; what it's like to want to stand beautiful and spotless before Him like a bride on her wedding night who has placed all of her trust in her groom, knowing he will never hurt her.  I need to study and memorize every detail so that his spirit is imprinted on mine.  With all of the passion and desperation of a once in a lifetime love affair, I must remember that I need Him.

Draw me back to you, Jesus.  Remind me, even if it hurts, that I am incomplete without you by my side, in my heart, and in my head.  Tie a string from your heart to mine so that when I drift away, it will cause me pain and I will run back into your arms.  Restore my passion and remind me of my first love.  

Mama Bear is alive and trying to be more like Jesus...

me.  

It is hard when someone hurts your kid- and it doesn't get any easier once your kid is bigger than you are.  

It hurts me more than it hurts you... 

Sometimes I think I identify with that saying better in the context of hurt feelings than with discipline.  It really hurts to see someone you love in pain- especially when they are in pain because of someone else's cruelty. 

We have a saying in our house: Don't Poke Mama Bear!  It didn't come about by accident... apparently there is this whole other side to the normally mild-mannered-me that neither The Pastor or I knew existed until we had kids.  When someone that I love is attacked or treated unfairly, this angry, raging, most likely rabid mama bear wakes from hibernation.  And at least in the privacy of our own den, it ain't pretty.  

Look, I know my kids aren't perfect.  Especially when they were younger, we made sure not to be the helicopter parents that could never accept that their sweet baby had done something wrong.  The Pastor and I stayed up in their business the whole of their childhood and well into their young adulthood to guide them, correct them, and praise them.  And they've grown into amazing young men who both love Jesus.  They are, by far, our greatest contribution to this world.  

Recently, the heart of one of my sons was carelessly tossed aside via break up.  I know it isn't the end of the world and I know these things happen along the road to meeting the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with.  It's part of life... and a big part of knowing exactly who it is that you're looking/waiting for.  Heartbreak helps mold you into a person that can recognize hurt in others and share their pain.  Heartbreak makes you human.  I'm not upset that there was a break up, though my heart hurts because my child's heart hurts.  

I got upset because it happened two days before an event that had been long-planned, saved for, and looked forward to- Senior Prom. And you only get one of those.  The tux was rented, the car cleaned, the restaurant picked, the corsage ordered, the ridiculously expensive tickets ($65 each?  Really?!) were paid for.  Seriously, why not wait a few days and not ruin someone's only Senior Prom, especially since you've already had your prom at your school (together) not even a week before?  That my kid also took you to and paid for?  And got a limo for?  And bought a corsage and paid for pictures and dinner for?  Especially since you've been together for well over a year and it wasn't a fight or grievous act that ended the relationship... just more of an "I'm done"?  It's called common courtesy, and there just wasn't an ounce shown.  There wasn't even time to find a last-minute date.   Now his memories of what should have been a fun night will forever be related to the hurt and humiliation of being dumped forty-eight hours before.  And don't forget the memory of having to call and cancel the dinner reservations.  And the tux.  And the corsage.  And trying to sell your tickets at the last minute.  And staying home and playing video games instead of going to your senior prom because you didn't have the heart to go stag.  All of that woke my mama bear.

The fact that my son can't even bear to talk to her and say a few of the things that need to be said is only making the bear in me want to get involved all the more.  But The Pastor says to stay out of it.  It. Is. Hard.  And don't get me wrong; I don't want to trap her in a dark alley and yell at her.  I just want her to understand how completely inconsiderate her actions were and file them away somewhere in her heart so that she doesn't do this to someone else.  I don't think my son will be able to say them to her, and she should know.  

All of this is complicated by the fact that I'm The Pastor's wife.  I know I can't let my mama bear run rampant through the church halls snapping and snarling.  I can't say the ugly things out of anger that I can't help but think.  I can't avoid talking with her and her guardian like I did last week when it was still so fresh.  I have to forgive her.  I have to love her.  And then love her some more.  I don't want to, but I will.  Because Jesus does.  

Eventually, I know I'll see that that my cub is ok, and even stronger for what he went through and that this will make him an even more compassionate person.  He's going to go off to college unencumbered and ready for a million new life experiences that are going to blow Senior Prom out of the water.  I know God has the very best in store for him and I can't wait to see what it is.  So, please excuse me... I'm going back into my den now.  

In honor of Letterman's retirement : The Top Ten Things I Hate

10.My dog’s breath. 

9. The movie Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.

8. The smell of eggs after they’ve been cooked. Especially when I have to clean the pan.

7. Rides that spin (Particularly the Shake, Rattle, and Roll at Elitch Gardens in Denver... *Horrible Incident Alert!*).

6. People who stop in a merge lane.

5. Christians who come to church and think it’s all about them.

4. Seafood.  I avoid eating things with heads and hind-ends that can fit into your mouth at the same time.

3. Moths. In my bedroom. At night.

2. Form 941.  And I don't even have to fill it out anymore. 

1. Roundabouts (see # 7).

Noah Movie Review

A lot has already been said about the movie Noah, and much will continue to be debated on this piece of film.  My feelings have gone from one end of the spectrum to the other and I have come to the conclusion that there are a few good things to be said about this polarizing movie.  There are also plenty of reasons not to watch it, but we’ll start with the positive aspects.  

First of all, the acting was great. Russell Crowe’s portrayal of Noah’s descent into madness and Jennifer Connelley’s portrayal as his faithful wife working to keep him sane in the midst of more than just a flood were believable and amazingly well played.  The CGI and graphics were as good as any Transformers movie that’s out today; the film certainly didn’t lack any quality in this area.  It was plain to see that millions of dollars were spent to make Noah and there was nothing second-rate about it.  The story line was edge-of-your-seat exciting.  God was evident in the movie even though he was called the “Creator” instead of God.  I didn’t have a problem with this.  He was portrayed as a God of wrath and justice and also as a God of grace for providing a way out for Noah and his family.  

I generally love disaster movies and had I gone to the theater just to watch another movie about a world-ending event, I probably would have loved it.  But I went for more than that.  I went, hoping that just like back in the days of Ben-Hur and The Ten Commandments, Hollywood would get it right (and it’s been about that long since it has!) I came away disappointed and feeling a little deceived.  

I don’t think we can discuss any of the negatives of Noah without first defining the term artistic license.  According to Dictionary.com, artistic license is the freedom to create an artwork, musical work, or piece of writing based on the artist’s interpretation and mainly for effect; also called poetic license, creative license, etc... In the case of movie-making, artistic license falls into the hands of the script writer and, ultimately, the director and the producers. 

I think in any movie that’s based on an actual text (whether it’s the Bible or a popular fiction novel), that some amount of artistic license is not only to be expected, it’s necessary.  You can’t condense all 960 pages of Gone with the Wind into a 3 1/2 hour movie without using a little artistic license to fill in the blanks about what must be skipped for time’s sake while still holding true to the original spirit of the story.  There’s just no way to fit every amazing detail of the book into the movie without the movie being ten hours long.  And a ten-hour long movie isn’t cost-effective for movie theaters who shuffle thousands of people into and out of their venues every night as quickly as possible.  

  

So, back to Noah.  I must say that I didn’t go into the theatre with high expectations that every detail of the story would be portrayed accurately- we are talking about Hollywood, after all. I went knowing that there would need (yes, need) to be a lot of artistic license taken with a story that is only three chapters long in the Bible.  Characters would need to be developed, plausible story lines created, and enough conflict built to sustain a two and a half hour movie.   Honestly, I expected the timeline to be off- no one wants to watch a 500-year-old Russell Crowe build a boat (Can I get an amen, ladies?  We want young, beautiful, strapping Russell Crowe, not an old, stooped, wrinkly Russell Crowe!)

But I did hope that the main points of the story would fall in line with scripture.  Here are just a few of the items that bothered me enough to remember as I write this almost a week after seeing Noah: 

• The movie made it seem as if the earth was being destroyed because humans weren’t being good caretakers of the world and respectful of its animal inhabitants, not because “the Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on earth, and that every inclination of the human heart was only evil all the time.” (Gen. 6:5)
• Noah’s sons should have been old enough to be married when they were on the ark (Gen. 6:18)
• The three son’s wives should have been with them on the ark (Gen. 6:18, 7:13) 
• We aren’t told in scripture that Noah received any outside help building the boat, especially from the Nephilim, though they are mentioned in the story.  (Gen. 6:13)
• In scripture, Noah and his family were on the ark for seven days before the rain started (Gen. 7:1-4)
• Rock Monsters.  (Isn’t that all I need to say about that one?)  
• There was no stowaway that was able to hack his way onto the ark.  
• There is no indication in scripture that the animals were the “innocent ones” to be saved and that God intended for Noah and his family to die with the other humans.
• There was a definite nod to the evolution theory when Noah tells the creation story to his family while on the ark.   

Honestly, I could go on and on, but it isn’t worth it.  The movie isn’t Biblical.  Artistic license could have been taken within the framework that the Scriptures give us, but it wasn’t.  A whole new blueprint was created that was not necessary.  

The thing I really want to discuss is the promotion of this movie.  There was not one trailer before the movie came out that showed the use of the rock monster/nephilim people.  Not one.  They were carefully edited to appeal to a Christian audience by looking very Biblical.  I believe that it was surmised by the writer/director/producers that this laughable detail would forewarn that the movie maybe, just a teeny bit, wasn’t too concerned with staying within the framework of scripture.  I find that tactic deceptive.

All in all, I'm not surprised by Hollywood's portrayal of Noah.  This is how the world will present the "truth..."  skewed and distorted, but wrapped up in a pretty package (Thanks, Russell Crowe!)   We must learn to decide for ourselves what we will believe.  Granted, the story of Noah is pretty fantastical and can easily lend itself to embellishment, but I know a God who brings the fantastical to life... real life.  To my life and your life.  This is what I choose to believe, and what I know to be true.  

As The Pastor said, if the movie was titled “Bob and His Boat” and wasn’t billed as an epic Biblical feature film, it may have been enjoyable on a fairy tale/Lord of the Rings level.  Other wise words of advice from him: “Wait until it comes out on Redbox.”  I agree.  :)

Mini Wars

Cleaning out things very little by very little.  

Out of necessity, The Pastor's parents lived with us for a little over three years. We  made it through with relationships in tact, though sometimes I wondered if that would be the case because I'm an introvert and it sometimes isn't pretty when an introvert doesn't get the necessary amounts of decompression (alone) time.  Especially this introvert.  

Anyway, I have discovered that if you put any two women in any one kitchen, you'll find out a lot about the both of them.  Who thinks what should go where.  What the acceptable cleanliness level of the sink is.  What the best location is for the measuring spoons.  When older potholders should be replaced (never, if they were made for you by your BFF during 5th grade summer camp!)  There are polite mini-wars fought every day on a battlefield of tile floors.  

They will also accumulate a lot of extra stuff.  Duplicate spices.  Extra cleaning supplies.  More than one kind of sink scrubber.  Lots of food items the other wouldn't buy... like Hamburger Helper, bags of frozen lima beans, and every sugar-free dessert mix known to North America (isn't sugar the point of dessert?).  

Anyway, I've been going through the kitchen cabinets and drawers, and all of the nooks and crannies of the pantry.  Tossing the doubles and cleaning out the unhealthy and unappetizing.  Putting extra casserole dishes in the garage sale pile.  Streamlining.  Finding space.  I have also been using up what we already have- you know, planning meals around what's already in the cabinets, fridge, and freezer and making sure not to purchase more duplicate items.  

It feels good... like I'm using what I have instead of unnecessarily buying more, more, more and taking up more, more, more space.  I like it.  I know for me, that minimizing my life will be a series of mini-wars and lettings go.  Of things I thought I needed.  Couldn't live without.  And guess what?  I'm finding out I can.  

A little bit less...

We're taking some baby steps to simplify our lives, get out of debt and explore what minimalism means in our little corner of the world.

We just downgraded our cable package to local stations only and will be saving about $600 a year.  Interestingly enough, the new bundle upgraded our internet and I feel very guilty about that don't feel guilty about that at all.  Here's to less passive watching and more active reading, talking, laughing, learning, and creating.

Next on the chopping block: satellite radio.  Farewell, 80's station... I'll miss you (but I'll be happier with that extra $205 bucks a year in my pocket.)

A Revolution of Less

I must confess that every once in a while, I wish my house would burn down and I could start completely over.  It's a pretty frequent fantasy that I have: everyone I love makes it out safely, all of our important documents like birth certificates and passports are grabbed in the nick of time, and the pictures we treasure are, of course, safe and sound in a fireproof storage container.  

I don't lay in bed at night dreaming of a shirtless man that looks remarkably like George Clooney falling in love with me and telling me how interesting and beautiful I am... I fantasize about house fires.  I think that's probably a not-so-subconscious hint that I have too much stuff.  

We live in a 3,200 square foot house and have every square foot of it tastefully decorated.  Our garage is full of stuff to help maintain the inside and outside of our tastefully decorated house.  The garage does have a car in it- a project car that was supposed to be a fun hobby for The Pastor and our kids to bond over- but we've never had the time or the money to work on it.  There is stuff sitting on every horizontal surface of the project car: parts and tools and a picture that hung in my office and a box of microwave popcorn from Sam's Club and our youngest's yard shoes and the basketball that our oldest used to shoot hoops at the park with six years ago.  

Behind our house is more stuff.  Way back past the lawn close to the alley there's actually a commercial pizza oven that my father in law got for a steal.  There's a trailer for hauling stuff, an old lawnmower with no engine, and more parked cars that don't run that belong to other family members.  Lucky us, we've been the people throughout our extended family who have stayed put the longest and have the "extra" space to store things for everyone.  Yay.  I try not to look out there because all of that junk makes me anxious and embarrassed at the same time.  At least you can't see it from the street.   

I'm not a pack rat and I don't really consider myself unnecessarily sentimental, but man, along with 25 years of marriage and two kids comes a crap load of stuff.  Some of it is stuff that literally hasn't moved or changed in the 17 years that we have called this place home because it fit that little corner shelf so perfectly; I just dust it once a month and try to go back to ignoring it.  

But it's all starting to bother me; I have been discontent for some time now.  It's funny, though.  I'm not discontent for more... I'm discontent for less, if that makes any sense.  Luckily, or by divine providence I stumbled across the blog called theminimalists.com and it spoke to me.  I bought their book (pictured above) and read it voraciously, underlining and highlighting and making furious notes along the page edges; it spoke to me too.  

Minimalism isn't a religious movement, but I feel that for me, it would only enhance my relationship with Christ and with those around me by freeing up the time I spend maintaining all of our stuff and the room it takes up in my subconscious- and giving me the time and space to focus on the things in my life that are not stuff-related.  Things of the heart and soul and mind.  Otherworldly stuff, which is a lot more meaningful in the long run.  

I'm going to start making some small changes that I hope will snowball into some larger changes.  That hopefully those I love will notice and want to know about, take part in.  Of course I know having my house burn down would be traumatic and horrible, but for me, it would also equate to taking the easy way out... getting rid of things without having to do any of the hard work that had to do with getting rid of things.  

I am looking forward to seeing the payoff spiritually, mentally, financially, and with my health and I'm ready to do the work.