For nearly three weeks, one solitary word has been bouncing back and forth in the recesses of my mind. This word has been literally tormenting me. It's been in every dream. I've heard it while driving to and from work. I've pondered it while running around helping customers. I simply cannot escape this word. You ready?
CHOICE
Do not let the apparent simplicity of this word fool you. Its definition may seem obvious to you. You may think that I am crazy for being so effected by this word. You may question my intelligence. You may interpret my struggle as benign. If this is you, I challenge you. I challenge you to think about this word every day for at least five minutes a day. You may discover a deeper truth. Let me bring me you up to speed on my journey.
A few weeks ago, I was confronted by my excuses. I let myself off the hook and rationalize far too often. I offer reasons why I act a certain way, talk a certain way, eat a certain way, believe a certain way. Valid reasons? Perhaps. More often than not, excuse is a more accurate word.
I am by no means disregarding the pain or experience that has a formative impact on one's life. My life today and the choices I make are direct results of my past. My journey through life has brought me incredible experiences and taught me valuable lessons. However, a lifelong journey also means baggage. Some good. Some painful. And there are a few suitcases that need to be left open on the roof of the car so the contents can fly out on the freeway never to be seen again.
I am no more in control of what is done to me than I am in control of the economy. It sounds absurd, yet we consistently revisit the situation. We relive the conversations. We dissect every word. We wonder how we could have forced the other person to respond differently. Reality check: I cannot control my surroundings. I can control my response. I have a CHOICE.
As that word is bouncing like a pinball through my mind, I have a chance to hear Tim Storey preach at my church. Tim brought up Mary, the mother of Jesus. Mary was a teenager, just beginning her life. She had hopes and dreams. She had plans for her future. She was getting married! She'd found the man of her dreams and was probably already planning the names of her children. Mary had her entire life ahead of her. Yet Mary was confronted with a choice. She could live in the favor of God on her life and give birth to the Promise, or she could choose to live her plans and her dreams. Mary had a choice.
One of the amazing things about our God is that He allowed Mary the choice. He could have just said, "Hey, Mary, you're having my Son. Case closed." Instead she had a choice. I may be speculating here, but I truly believe that had Mary chosen to live her life as planned, there would have been no punishment. God would not have killed her in her sleep or sent plagues to torment her. It was her choice, her free will at work. Mary would have to live with her choice and the questions in her mind: "What if I had chosen to accept the blessing? Would my life have been different? What would have happened if I'd had the Son of God?" Perhaps the "what ifs" would be more painful than the process of the promise.
The reality of life is that every day I make choices. By saying yes to one thing, I am choosing to say no to another. I am making a choice. And when I make that choice, I have to deal with the repercussions. By making the choice, I am accepting responsibility. I am taking ownership. I am asserting my God-given right as a human being....CHOICE.
Every last one of us can pinpoint a few (or several) people in our lives that make choices on a daily basis but refuse to assume responsibility. They lack the courage to own their decision. They regret the choice they made. That regret turns into self-directed anger. When the pain of self-directed anger gets too strong, fingers are pointed and accusations are made. It's everyone's fault except my own.
Sometimes I want to scream, "It's not my fault you made a wrong choice. It's not my fault you did not weigh the cost. It's not my fault you just don't have what it takes." Just as my mouth begins to open and the words are on the tip of my tongue, a force other than my own will slams my mouth shut with a few simple memories, memories of choices made and blame placed.
And I make a CHOICE.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Has Anyone Seen the Dreamer?
A little girl si
ts alone in her room. Her shelves are lined with her treasures...books. These books open up a world of wonder, a world yet unknown. They are full of adventures and knights and mysteries. These books are not simply words on a page. They offer the possibility of something more. They are dreams. Dreams of a life grander than the life she knows, the life she lives day after day.
This girl sits for hours dreaming and imagining and creating. Notebooks are filled with her childhood scribbles--scribbles that reveal her dreamer's heart. She reads her stories to her captive audience of dolls and teddy bears. She sings her songs as if she were Broadway's newest star performing to a sellout crowd. Her imagination runs wild and free. Someday she will be a star and a dancer and a teacher and a veterinarian and a mommy. Someday all of her dreams will come true.
When exactly does that little dreamer stop dreaming? When does she decide her dreams will never be a reality? When does she stop believing that she can be anything she wants to be? Do anything she wants to do? When does her life become nothing more than getting by?
Somewhere along the way, we all stop dreaming. Someone says, "You're not smart enough to do that." Another person warns, "It's too hard. Try something else." Still another tells us we're nowhere near beautiful enough, strong enough, good enough. What makes us think we deserve spectacular when everyone else lives in the mundane?
Every time someone offers their "advice," a little piece of the dream is stolen. Eventually the dream that started out too big to contain becomes a tiny memory. In an attempt to repair the brokenness of shattered dreams, that tiny memory gets buried. Deep inside. Covered by layers and layers of reasons to choose the safe route. Before you know it, the dream has virtually disappeared.
At times it seems easier to leave the dream buried or forget it existed in the first place. The dream was a mere figment of an innocent, child-like imagination, unmarred by the harsh reality of life in a world of former dreamers. Real world is safer. Small dreams mean small disappointment and small hurt.
Occasionally something alerts our subconscious to the buried dream. We try to remember. We try to picture a life where dreams become reality. We peel back a few layers. We allow ourselves the luxury of creating something new. Another layer...we catch a glimpse of the little girl, sitting in her cubby hole, dreaming of a life outside her four walls.
It is at that moment that we measure the cost of dreaming again. Can we rebuild the dream that was shattered? Were we created for something more than the mundane? Will the pain be worth it?
I am learning that what matters in life is most definitely worth the possibility of pain. I am learning that I cannot endure a life of ordinary. A life without risks. I will no longer sit on the sidelines watching others fulfill their dreams while mine remain buried. I was created for more than just getting by. I am dreaming big. I am dreaming impossible. I am dreaming creative, beautiful, secure, life-changing. What's more...I am dreaming God dreams. Dreams so outlandishly big that only God can make them happen. That's the kind of God I serve -- a God who makes dreams come true.
Let the dreaming begin. Who's with me?
Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
People need dreams, there's as much nourishment in 'em as food.
Dorothy Gilman
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
Psalm 37:4-6
ts alone in her room. Her shelves are lined with her treasures...books. These books open up a world of wonder, a world yet unknown. They are full of adventures and knights and mysteries. These books are not simply words on a page. They offer the possibility of something more. They are dreams. Dreams of a life grander than the life she knows, the life she lives day after day.This girl sits for hours dreaming and imagining and creating. Notebooks are filled with her childhood scribbles--scribbles that reveal her dreamer's heart. She reads her stories to her captive audience of dolls and teddy bears. She sings her songs as if she were Broadway's newest star performing to a sellout crowd. Her imagination runs wild and free. Someday she will be a star and a dancer and a teacher and a veterinarian and a mommy. Someday all of her dreams will come true.
When exactly does that little dreamer stop dreaming? When does she decide her dreams will never be a reality? When does she stop believing that she can be anything she wants to be? Do anything she wants to do? When does her life become nothing more than getting by?
Somewhere along the way, we all stop dreaming. Someone says, "You're not smart enough to do that." Another person warns, "It's too hard. Try something else." Still another tells us we're nowhere near beautiful enough, strong enough, good enough. What makes us think we deserve spectacular when everyone else lives in the mundane?
Every time someone offers their "advice," a little piece of the dream is stolen. Eventually the dream that started out too big to contain becomes a tiny memory. In an attempt to repair the brokenness of shattered dreams, that tiny memory gets buried. Deep inside. Covered by layers and layers of reasons to choose the safe route. Before you know it, the dream has virtually disappeared.
At times it seems easier to leave the dream buried or forget it existed in the first place. The dream was a mere figment of an innocent, child-like imagination, unmarred by the harsh reality of life in a world of former dreamers. Real world is safer. Small dreams mean small disappointment and small hurt.
Occasionally something alerts our subconscious to the buried dream. We try to remember. We try to picture a life where dreams become reality. We peel back a few layers. We allow ourselves the luxury of creating something new. Another layer...we catch a glimpse of the little girl, sitting in her cubby hole, dreaming of a life outside her four walls.
It is at that moment that we measure the cost of dreaming again. Can we rebuild the dream that was shattered? Were we created for something more than the mundane? Will the pain be worth it?
I am learning that what matters in life is most definitely worth the possibility of pain. I am learning that I cannot endure a life of ordinary. A life without risks. I will no longer sit on the sidelines watching others fulfill their dreams while mine remain buried. I was created for more than just getting by. I am dreaming big. I am dreaming impossible. I am dreaming creative, beautiful, secure, life-changing. What's more...I am dreaming God dreams. Dreams so outlandishly big that only God can make them happen. That's the kind of God I serve -- a God who makes dreams come true.
Let the dreaming begin. Who's with me?
Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Dorothy Gilman
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
Psalm 37:4-6
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The Plunge
There are times when a few simple words from God's Word seem to echo in my mind for days. It should come as no surprise. His Word is living and active. It always accomplishes its purpose in my life...if I would simply let it. The Word needs to be in me in order to change me. It is simple really. I only need to open the pages and read the words. Reading...fundamental, enjoyable, simple. However, when it comes to this ONE book, it seems to be a difficult task.
My life group (a Bible study group filled with the most amazing people EVER) was recently discussing the difficulty we have spending time in God's Word. We can be committed to improving our health, learning a new skill, reading a series of books, spending time with family, or practicing a talent. Yet we run away from quiet time with God. For some, it is fear that convinces us it is time better spent elsewhere. Often times it is simply laziness. Perhaps the pain of our situation is not yet greater than the pain of change we know will follow time in God's Word.
A decision has to be made. Do I want to spend another year or even another day dealing with the same issues? Or do I want to dive deep into God's Word and discover who I really am? The payoff definitely outweighs the cost.
Every time I set aside the inconsequential annoyances that keep me busy and invest time into getting to know the God who gave up everything for me, I am rewarded with a new revelation. A simple truth. A life-changing epiphany. A moment of clarity.
Most recently, these words from Psalms are marinating in my mind and heart.
Merriam-Webster's Dictionary defines mercy as "a blessing that is an act of favor or compassion." Mercy is also "compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender" or "imprisonment rather than death imposed as penalty." I deserve nothing less than death. Nothing I have done deems me worthy of receiving a lesser punishment or no punishment at all. "Yet he was merciful..."
God's mercy offered forgiveness when I deserved guilt. His mercy rescued me instead of letting me drown in my self-pity and shame. It reached deep into the middle of my sin, the mud and garbage of my life, and lifted me to a place of blessing and freedom. His mercy overwhelms me. Demands my surrender. Cries out for my praise. Pursues me relentlessly. Longs for my everything and settles for nothing less.
"Yet he was merciful..."
Every word, every letter literally screams LOVE. Why would I want to run away from love? God's love -- perfect, complete, unselfish, mind-blowing, world-changing. I am ready for the plunge.
My life group (a Bible study group filled with the most amazing people EVER) was recently discussing the difficulty we have spending time in God's Word. We can be committed to improving our health, learning a new skill, reading a series of books, spending time with family, or practicing a talent. Yet we run away from quiet time with God. For some, it is fear that convinces us it is time better spent elsewhere. Often times it is simply laziness. Perhaps the pain of our situation is not yet greater than the pain of change we know will follow time in God's Word.
A decision has to be made. Do I want to spend another year or even another day dealing with the same issues? Or do I want to dive deep into God's Word and discover who I really am? The payoff definitely outweighs the cost.
Every time I set aside the inconsequential annoyances that keep me busy and invest time into getting to know the God who gave up everything for me, I am rewarded with a new revelation. A simple truth. A life-changing epiphany. A moment of clarity.
Most recently, these words from Psalms are marinating in my mind and heart.
Yet he was merciful; he forgave their iniquities and did not destroy them. Time after time he restrained his anger and did not stir up his full wrath. Psalm 78:38"Yet he was merciful..." Isn't that the story of my life? "Yet he was merciful..." I didn't deserve his favor. "Yet he was merciful..." I was running as far from His voice as I could. "Yet he was merciful..." I allowed myself to become so enamored by the "stuff" the world calls beautiful that I neglected true beauty. "Yet he was merciful..."
Merriam-Webster's Dictionary defines mercy as "a blessing that is an act of favor or compassion." Mercy is also "compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender" or "imprisonment rather than death imposed as penalty." I deserve nothing less than death. Nothing I have done deems me worthy of receiving a lesser punishment or no punishment at all. "Yet he was merciful..."
God's mercy offered forgiveness when I deserved guilt. His mercy rescued me instead of letting me drown in my self-pity and shame. It reached deep into the middle of my sin, the mud and garbage of my life, and lifted me to a place of blessing and freedom. His mercy overwhelms me. Demands my surrender. Cries out for my praise. Pursues me relentlessly. Longs for my everything and settles for nothing less.
"Yet he was merciful..."
Every word, every letter literally screams LOVE. Why would I want to run away from love? God's love -- perfect, complete, unselfish, mind-blowing, world-changing. I am ready for the plunge.
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