I remember using the VLSI design lab while working on my degree at WSU. The easiest access times for the computer were in the middle of the night, so I spent my share of early morning hours designing VLSI layouts, after which I would often see those color-coded squares in my dreams.
In my twenty-one years at Kodak, there were only two situations in which I can recall dreaming my work. One was when I was preparing weekly reports for the Prosper Press beta sites, analyzing controller log files and other resources to define and produce system metrics. The other was much earlier, during a site visit to Leeds in which we had to reconfigure a 3600 Printing System to work the way it would actually function rather than the way someone thought it would. (Setting the thing up to cue from downstream and compute the actual starting spot for print would only really work if the page size was consistent between jobs, and that wasn't true of the customer's production.)
Dreaming my work has happened twice already in my new job. I love this work, but to be dreaming evaluation notice responses three days after we finished with them is a little disconcerting; this follows the production in December of the proposal to which these responses pertain.
I hope we win this contract, but I also hope I don't have more dream material because of it!
Monday, February 29, 2016
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Settling for slops
Unitalicized parentheticals within the quotations below added.
This gospel story (Jn 14, through verse 9) helps me see that though we may come home to the Father, as did the Prodigal Son (different story), at a particular time and place, that moment is preceded by a season. I have learned this lesson repeatedly in breakthrough moments through the years. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
As have I. And it turns out that the extended seasons of preparation which the Father uses to prepare us for one lesson which we stubbornly persist in not. quite. getting can coincide with preparation for the ones that will come after. After all, God is not surprised by my struggles to arrive where He is leading me.
Neal goes on with another thought from the Prodigal Son's story:
The recognition of lack, to know that without God there is no life, is actually a blessing. Jesus said, "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied" (Mt. 5:6 RSV). Pride, arrogance, self-sufficiency - whatever kept him from seeing clearly was eclipsed by awareness of his need. - ibid.
It is true that these things get in our way, too. "I don't need some superstition to help me make sense of the universe or my insignificant place in it!"
As with the Prodigal Son, the recognition that we are starving for the Father is a pain that leads to happiness, for hunger has a way of driving us toward home. Hunger sharpens our senses. It makes us aware of the things that are most important. Other desires pale in comparison with our need for sustenance, for life-giving food. - ibid.
But it can be so hard to notice the true nature of our need. We can mistake the slop trough which the world continually replenishes for us for real nourishment, failing to understand that we can never gorge ourselves sufficiently on them to provide the real nutrition that we need.
On the third through fifth Sundays of Lent, our parish uses the readings for year A at all masses, for multiple reasons: in support of the RCIA scrutinies, to give all parishioners a common experience of mass, and to simplify homily preparation for our priests. This week, we will hear the reading of Jesus' encounter with the outcast Samaritan woman at the well (or, more accurately, vice versa). As we discussed this reading yesterday during our men's group, at one point one of our deacons talked about the quality of cistern water. It occurred to me that we likewise fail to receive Jesus' living water, preferring to rely on the scummy, stagnant water source we have come to know and trust. We don't even recognize our thirst. Going back to the second quotation, above: yes, to recognize the true nature of our lack is a priceless gift.
When the things we use to mask the reality of our lives are stripped away, we come face-to-face with our inner loneliness. To avoid the miserable reality that sobriety brings, addicts long for the next drink or drug. People repeatedly enter short-lived, empty relationships filled with the illusion of intimacy but which only mask the loneliness that plagues them. Some go after thrills and excitement, and as soon as one adventure wears off they crave another. - ibid.
These things can never fulfill us. St. Augustine was right: we each have a God-shaped hole, and only He can fill it. Restless is the heart until it finds its rest in Him.
This gospel story (Jn 14, through verse 9) helps me see that though we may come home to the Father, as did the Prodigal Son (different story), at a particular time and place, that moment is preceded by a season. I have learned this lesson repeatedly in breakthrough moments through the years. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
As have I. And it turns out that the extended seasons of preparation which the Father uses to prepare us for one lesson which we stubbornly persist in not. quite. getting can coincide with preparation for the ones that will come after. After all, God is not surprised by my struggles to arrive where He is leading me.
Neal goes on with another thought from the Prodigal Son's story:
The recognition of lack, to know that without God there is no life, is actually a blessing. Jesus said, "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied" (Mt. 5:6 RSV). Pride, arrogance, self-sufficiency - whatever kept him from seeing clearly was eclipsed by awareness of his need. - ibid.
It is true that these things get in our way, too. "I don't need some superstition to help me make sense of the universe or my insignificant place in it!"
As with the Prodigal Son, the recognition that we are starving for the Father is a pain that leads to happiness, for hunger has a way of driving us toward home. Hunger sharpens our senses. It makes us aware of the things that are most important. Other desires pale in comparison with our need for sustenance, for life-giving food. - ibid.
But it can be so hard to notice the true nature of our need. We can mistake the slop trough which the world continually replenishes for us for real nourishment, failing to understand that we can never gorge ourselves sufficiently on them to provide the real nutrition that we need.
On the third through fifth Sundays of Lent, our parish uses the readings for year A at all masses, for multiple reasons: in support of the RCIA scrutinies, to give all parishioners a common experience of mass, and to simplify homily preparation for our priests. This week, we will hear the reading of Jesus' encounter with the outcast Samaritan woman at the well (or, more accurately, vice versa). As we discussed this reading yesterday during our men's group, at one point one of our deacons talked about the quality of cistern water. It occurred to me that we likewise fail to receive Jesus' living water, preferring to rely on the scummy, stagnant water source we have come to know and trust. We don't even recognize our thirst. Going back to the second quotation, above: yes, to recognize the true nature of our lack is a priceless gift.
When the things we use to mask the reality of our lives are stripped away, we come face-to-face with our inner loneliness. To avoid the miserable reality that sobriety brings, addicts long for the next drink or drug. People repeatedly enter short-lived, empty relationships filled with the illusion of intimacy but which only mask the loneliness that plagues them. Some go after thrills and excitement, and as soon as one adventure wears off they crave another. - ibid.
These things can never fulfill us. St. Augustine was right: we each have a God-shaped hole, and only He can fill it. Restless is the heart until it finds its rest in Him.
A bride with her head on straight
(Well, the groom, too, but this story is about the bride.)
My wife and I recently attended the wedding of young friends who seem incredibly well-suited for each other. Of course, neither that nor their current focus on Christ guarantees the permanence of their marriage, and they fully know that they will have to guard and nurture their relationship throughout their life together. It was such a joy to be with them as they united their lives in Christ's love.
During the reception, one of the groom's family members commented to me that the bride and groom had both been "choosy," his point being that this was part of what makes them a good couple. As evidence, he mentioned a much earlier conversation in which he evidently inquired of the bride why she wasn't already "taken," and her response was, basically, "Are you kidding? Look at me." She is a stunningly attractive young lady, and he interpreted her to mean that she wasn't willing to just settle for just any guy, that she wanted to spend her life with someone truly special.
While that is probably true enough, I think he missed the essence of her response.
I don't think she was at all saying that she was too beautiful to settle for anyone less than the husband she has found. Rather, I see her insisting that she recognized that it was important for her to be with someone who would love her for who she is rather than merely for what she looks like. I imagine she had no shortage of guys who were entirely willing to fall in love with their idea of what she must be like based on her physical attractiveness. I suppose that some of them may have grown disappointed to find out - to use as crude a metaphor as possible - that her defecation has just as much aroma in it as anyone else's; after all, everyone's poop stinks. I also can't help but think that some of them may have looked to her to provide what was missing in their own self-image: if they could be with such a beautiful young woman, they must be okay. That would not have made for a healthy relationship, and she would have insisted on that! Also, I expect that the men who might have been physically drawn to her made for a considerable noise factor, making it more challenging to recognize when she was with the one with whom she could grow together in God's love for all their lives.
"Look at me," I can hear her saying. "Don't look at what's on the outside, these things over which I have only so much control and are only the smallest part of me. REALLY look at me, and see my whole self! There's beauty – even greater beauty – within, too: talent, understanding, intelligence, motivation, but also hurt, and broken imperfection, and I need someone who is willing to love all of me, and I have only now found the one who will accept and love me for all that I am rather than what they think I must be, who will let me be who I am while helping me to grow into who God wants me to become rather than trying to force me into who they want me to be. Above all, I am a committed daughter of my loving Father, and I need my groom to see that, and to be just as committed to being His son, so that we can allow Him to love us through each other for our whole lives!"
The first time I met her eventual fiancé, he made an ill-advised observation that "they were working" on some weakness of hers. It concerned me, at first, on a couple of levels. But the two of them seem to have grown beyond any uncomfortable implications of that statement, and to have found a person with whom they fit uniquely well.
I am so glad that each of these dear people has found someone to love all of them.
My wife and I recently attended the wedding of young friends who seem incredibly well-suited for each other. Of course, neither that nor their current focus on Christ guarantees the permanence of their marriage, and they fully know that they will have to guard and nurture their relationship throughout their life together. It was such a joy to be with them as they united their lives in Christ's love.
During the reception, one of the groom's family members commented to me that the bride and groom had both been "choosy," his point being that this was part of what makes them a good couple. As evidence, he mentioned a much earlier conversation in which he evidently inquired of the bride why she wasn't already "taken," and her response was, basically, "Are you kidding? Look at me." She is a stunningly attractive young lady, and he interpreted her to mean that she wasn't willing to just settle for just any guy, that she wanted to spend her life with someone truly special.
While that is probably true enough, I think he missed the essence of her response.
I don't think she was at all saying that she was too beautiful to settle for anyone less than the husband she has found. Rather, I see her insisting that she recognized that it was important for her to be with someone who would love her for who she is rather than merely for what she looks like. I imagine she had no shortage of guys who were entirely willing to fall in love with their idea of what she must be like based on her physical attractiveness. I suppose that some of them may have grown disappointed to find out - to use as crude a metaphor as possible - that her defecation has just as much aroma in it as anyone else's; after all, everyone's poop stinks. I also can't help but think that some of them may have looked to her to provide what was missing in their own self-image: if they could be with such a beautiful young woman, they must be okay. That would not have made for a healthy relationship, and she would have insisted on that! Also, I expect that the men who might have been physically drawn to her made for a considerable noise factor, making it more challenging to recognize when she was with the one with whom she could grow together in God's love for all their lives.
"Look at me," I can hear her saying. "Don't look at what's on the outside, these things over which I have only so much control and are only the smallest part of me. REALLY look at me, and see my whole self! There's beauty – even greater beauty – within, too: talent, understanding, intelligence, motivation, but also hurt, and broken imperfection, and I need someone who is willing to love all of me, and I have only now found the one who will accept and love me for all that I am rather than what they think I must be, who will let me be who I am while helping me to grow into who God wants me to become rather than trying to force me into who they want me to be. Above all, I am a committed daughter of my loving Father, and I need my groom to see that, and to be just as committed to being His son, so that we can allow Him to love us through each other for our whole lives!"
The first time I met her eventual fiancé, he made an ill-advised observation that "they were working" on some weakness of hers. It concerned me, at first, on a couple of levels. But the two of them seem to have grown beyond any uncomfortable implications of that statement, and to have found a person with whom they fit uniquely well.
I am so glad that each of these dear people has found someone to love all of them.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
For our ME group tonight, with quote
Tom: This morning, I was coming home from dropping our grandchildren off at our daughter's house when my phone rang. It was Teri asking me to go by the pharmacy on the way home to pick up some medicine that she needed. So I made a right instead of a left and headed in that direction. I passed a sign at the grocery store advertising what looks like a good sale on meat (whole NY strip for $3.99/pound), and started thinking about whether it was a good idea to buy one. My mind wandered from there, and the next thing I knew I was pulling into our driveway, where I realized I had driven right past the pharmacy without stopping. I shook my head, turned around, and headed back to get my wife's medicine, beginning to berate myself a little, as I'm prone to do in that type of situation. "You idiot!" I thought. In a nod to full disclosure: I might have tossed in a not-very-kind expletive.
It was as if my heavenly Father Himself was breaking into my decades-long tendency toward perfectionism to remind me that He loves me not merely despite my imperfections, but even because of them. I felt awash in His love for me, and in a moment felt transformed into His beloved son, whom He sent his own Son to bring home to His loving heart.
Dialogue question:
How has the Father used you to teach me of His heart of love for me? What are my feelings about my answer?
Follow-up dialogue prompt:
How have my experiences of earthly fatherhood interfered with knowing my heavenly Father's love? How do I feel sharing that with you?
Teri (reading from Abba's Heart): "When Jesus told the parable of the father with two sons, He wanted to convict those who thought they were faithful to God. He wanted them to see that their hearts were actually hardened toward the Father and others, whereas the Father's heart was tender. He also told the story so that those who had been disobedient to God would know that that Father longs for them with a broken heart, ready to forgive and embrace them. If your heart is filled with shame or anger, resentment or despair, the Father's broken heart enables you to return home.
"The Father's heart is broken for you. He sent His Son to reveal His love and do whatever it takes to win back your heart. He longs to bring you home. Jesus endured the cross for the joy set before Him; it was the joy of finding you. (emphasis added) You are the one lost sheep, the penny, the son from Jesus' parables. Jesus left heaven to search after you. He did it so that you might enter into heaven's joy. This is the joy of heaven: when the Father's lost children come home to His embrace." - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart, p. 38
It was as if my heavenly Father Himself was breaking into my decades-long tendency toward perfectionism to remind me that He loves me not merely despite my imperfections, but even because of them. I felt awash in His love for me, and in a moment felt transformed into His beloved son, whom He sent his own Son to bring home to His loving heart.
Dialogue question:
How has the Father used you to teach me of His heart of love for me? What are my feelings about my answer?
Follow-up dialogue prompt:
How have my experiences of earthly fatherhood interfered with knowing my heavenly Father's love? How do I feel sharing that with you?
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Season of repentance
As we speak to the Father, our motives will be exposed, and we will recognize our need for repentance. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
A little over twenty-five years ago, my wife and I had been having a terrible time in our marriage, which I was convinced I had sound biblical reason to terminate. When I was finally certain of my position, I approached one of my closest friends to discuss it with him.
His response was simple: "I understand. But God hates divorce, and I don't believe that's His will for your life." When I became willing to actually seek the truth, even if my motivation was mostly to confirm my own chosen course of action, the Truth met me where I was. By no means was this as simple as deciding to heed my friend's advice, but eventually we got to a much healthier place.
When beginning to post this yesterday morning, I let myself be interrupted by an oppositional 7-year-old who didn't want to do anything of the necessary tasks to prepare for school. My response to her underscores my ongoing need for repentance.
A little over twenty-five years ago, my wife and I had been having a terrible time in our marriage, which I was convinced I had sound biblical reason to terminate. When I was finally certain of my position, I approached one of my closest friends to discuss it with him.
His response was simple: "I understand. But God hates divorce, and I don't believe that's His will for your life." When I became willing to actually seek the truth, even if my motivation was mostly to confirm my own chosen course of action, the Truth met me where I was. By no means was this as simple as deciding to heed my friend's advice, but eventually we got to a much healthier place.
When beginning to post this yesterday morning, I let myself be interrupted by an oppositional 7-year-old who didn't want to do anything of the necessary tasks to prepare for school. My response to her underscores my ongoing need for repentance.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Disturbing dream
The sense of foreboding as I trailed a friend throughout "the Annapolis marathon" was finally clarified when my stepfather showed up in this morning's dream.
Signed, a grateful wretch
This post about our horrible yesterday was going to have the opposite adjective in the title, until you turned off the television to have a few minutes with me before I went to bed.
I really appreciate that.
I really appreciate that.
Monday, February 22, 2016
"This is my desire, but Thy will be done"
Some people, to avoid the pain of surrendering, ignore their hearts and pray for God's will in a sterile, apathetic way. It is like playing poker for peanuts instead of dollars: there is nothing on the table. Our desires ought to be brought before heaven so that our hearts go there, as well. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I get this. I think that I don't do it, but understand why people do.
There is a difference between praying for our heart's desire, though, and praying for all that we desire. When we start walking with the Lord, we begin to know when something we want is clearly not the Lord's will for us; we trust what His Church teaches us about His loving call for our life, what is good for us, and what isn't. We learn to pray about that thing we want in a different way: that the underlying desire or need that it represents will be met in a way that glorifies God rather than in the thing that we have focused on. This is part of having our hearts conformed to God's will.
Our relationships with our spouses may manifest elements of this growing spiritual maturity. We may play the martyr by ignoring our moments of frustration, or pray for God to change our partner in some way. It may be that, for their own sake, they sincerely need to grow in a way for which we might intercede on their behalf. But to offer this intention without including our own feelings and desires prevents us from accepting any growth God may have planned for us, too. When we offer God our honest feelings and ask the Father to provide what we truly need as well as the growth we might desire for our partner, we give Him permission to also provide us with a heart more conformed with His love for our spouse.
I get this. I think that I don't do it, but understand why people do.
There is a difference between praying for our heart's desire, though, and praying for all that we desire. When we start walking with the Lord, we begin to know when something we want is clearly not the Lord's will for us; we trust what His Church teaches us about His loving call for our life, what is good for us, and what isn't. We learn to pray about that thing we want in a different way: that the underlying desire or need that it represents will be met in a way that glorifies God rather than in the thing that we have focused on. This is part of having our hearts conformed to God's will.
Our relationships with our spouses may manifest elements of this growing spiritual maturity. We may play the martyr by ignoring our moments of frustration, or pray for God to change our partner in some way. It may be that, for their own sake, they sincerely need to grow in a way for which we might intercede on their behalf. But to offer this intention without including our own feelings and desires prevents us from accepting any growth God may have planned for us, too. When we offer God our honest feelings and ask the Father to provide what we truly need as well as the growth we might desire for our partner, we give Him permission to also provide us with a heart more conformed with His love for our spouse.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Painful growth; dim but present hope (corrected)
(S)eeking the Kingdom first means that we want to receive all of the good things the Father has in store for us. We do not want one good thing apart from knowing His heart for us, and we are not content with anything less than His will. St. Augustine said, "As for our saying: Your kingdom come, it will surely come whether we will it or not. But we are stirring up our desires for the kingdom so that it can come to us." - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I find myself in a very different place this Lent from past years. For nearly as long as I have been trying to walk with the Lord, Lent has been a season of turning away from a particular sin to which I have been bound, but I have since been set free from that in a way that reflects the truth that Neal has shared in his older book, Unbound: A Practical Guide to Deliverance. It is true that I still have an area of weakness where I was formerly in bondage. But instead of being consumed by it, I have found myself reflecting on the Father's love in the face of it, and the impure desire is swamped by the certainty that God has a better plan for me. As it applies to Lent: in the past I practically defined the "success" of "my Lenten efforts" by how well I gutted out this one area of temptation. Since I'm finally dealing with that by Grace rather than by sheer willpower, the next thing is now more present to me. I myself have often observed that God often returns us to the same lesson until we learn it, for it's often impossible to move on to the next one until then. There's a reason we must learn to add before we multiply.
That former area of bondage had a payoff of which I wasn't aware. I could attribute any unhappiness in my life to my struggle - and especially my failure - in that area. I know that sin distorts our perspective, and so I have basically placed most blame for any dissatisfaction with my life on that. For decades. Now, when I am unhappy or dissatisfied with my life, I have to look for another reason. Perhaps there could be vestiges of the same underlying attitude that are now contributing to my ennui, but maybe there's something else, too. Perhaps I'm not primarily interested in loving as the Father loves me, but am disproportionately concerned with how I wish my life were different from how it is.
I need to desire God's kingdom first, and trust that all other things will be added besides (Mt. 6:33). While I am growing more conscious of the Father's deep, sustaining, joyful love for me, I am struggling to trust in His provision for my own joy, in an area that most people would agree is very important.
Jesus' instruction to seek the Kingdom and His righteousness (Mt 6:25-33) is nothing less than an invitation to pursue and experience heaven while living on earth. Choosing the kingdom as life's first priority does not replace our need for food, shelter or clothing; it simply puts everything else in its proper place. When we put those things above our need for God's reign, we invite disorder into our thoughts, especially through anxiety. When we seek the Kingdom first, we find the goodness of God through faith, and we actively pursue His will. When we refuse to give worry a place in us and surrender to the Father through prayer, self-giving and loving relationships, we honor Him as the source of all that is good. - ibid.
The same is true for non-physical needs. God, I'm going to have to trust you to get me there.
I find myself in a very different place this Lent from past years. For nearly as long as I have been trying to walk with the Lord, Lent has been a season of turning away from a particular sin to which I have been bound, but I have since been set free from that in a way that reflects the truth that Neal has shared in his older book, Unbound: A Practical Guide to Deliverance. It is true that I still have an area of weakness where I was formerly in bondage. But instead of being consumed by it, I have found myself reflecting on the Father's love in the face of it, and the impure desire is swamped by the certainty that God has a better plan for me. As it applies to Lent: in the past I practically defined the "success" of "my Lenten efforts" by how well I gutted out this one area of temptation. Since I'm finally dealing with that by Grace rather than by sheer willpower, the next thing is now more present to me. I myself have often observed that God often returns us to the same lesson until we learn it, for it's often impossible to move on to the next one until then. There's a reason we must learn to add before we multiply.
That former area of bondage had a payoff of which I wasn't aware. I could attribute any unhappiness in my life to my struggle - and especially my failure - in that area. I know that sin distorts our perspective, and so I have basically placed most blame for any dissatisfaction with my life on that. For decades. Now, when I am unhappy or dissatisfied with my life, I have to look for another reason. Perhaps there could be vestiges of the same underlying attitude that are now contributing to my ennui, but maybe there's something else, too. Perhaps I'm not primarily interested in loving as the Father loves me, but am disproportionately concerned with how I wish my life were different from how it is.
I need to desire God's kingdom first, and trust that all other things will be added besides (Mt. 6:33). While I am growing more conscious of the Father's deep, sustaining, joyful love for me, I am struggling to trust in His provision for my own joy, in an area that most people would agree is very important.
Jesus' instruction to seek the Kingdom and His righteousness (Mt 6:25-33) is nothing less than an invitation to pursue and experience heaven while living on earth. Choosing the kingdom as life's first priority does not replace our need for food, shelter or clothing; it simply puts everything else in its proper place. When we put those things above our need for God's reign, we invite disorder into our thoughts, especially through anxiety. When we seek the Kingdom first, we find the goodness of God through faith, and we actively pursue His will. When we refuse to give worry a place in us and surrender to the Father through prayer, self-giving and loving relationships, we honor Him as the source of all that is good. - ibid.
The same is true for non-physical needs. God, I'm going to have to trust you to get me there.
Friday, February 19, 2016
A sick and annoyed night
I could tell something was wrong. I don't customarily get chills like that. By the time I climbed into bed, I could tell they had developed into a fever, plus my heart was pounding.
It had been a frustrating evening, too. Our car had been out on loan for the previous two days, and the person who'd had it thought it was entirely reasonable to keep it over one more night, even though that meant that my wife would be stuck without a car again for a third consecutive day. That hadn't been much of a problem, given her volunteer day on Wednesday, and since her friend had loaned her a vehicle for a doctor's appointment on Thursday, but I agreed with her that we needed a different answer for today. So we patiently worked with the person who had it to come up with a mutually-agreeable solution that would suit all of us. We stood our ground, and didn't let ourselves get run over by assumptions, but it really took a team effort to make that happen.
I 'd already been planning an early morning, and my chills had convinced me that an early evening was also a good idea. When I got home from dropping off our daughter at work, my head hung as I removed our keys from the car and noticed hers still attached. Ugh. So I went in the house and texted our daughter, but got no response. We then tried to look up a phone number for her work place, but the only number we could find was no longer in service. Those efforts wouldn't have mattered, as it turns out: yes, she needed her keys. Even though my wife had suggested that she could take them to her after the younger two granddaughters were asleep, the amount of time she spent continuing to look for a phone number after it was obvious we weren't going to find one made it equally obvious that she didn't want to go. So rather than waste further time in a fruitless effort that was probably only going to confirm what we needed to do anyway, I loaded my chills back into the car and drove back to our daughter's workplace, where she was most grateful that I had brought them to her. I then came back home and went to bed. So much for my early night, and I was plenty miffed about it. I'd also taken a disposable plastic and a paper soft drink cup out of the car; I might have left just the plastic one, but was afraid the paper one might give out and make a mess to deal with.
As soon as my head hit the pillow I knew I was feverish, but I still lay there for an hour before texting my wife and asking her to come up the stairs. I knew I was being a bit of a baby, not just taking care of myself, but wanted to be "evaluated" where I was. Sure enough: 101.1°. She brought me some acetaminophen, but I still lay there awake until 1 a.m., when I moved out to the sofa for a while. I slept fitfully through the night, but could tell that my fever had broken before I'd gotten out of bed.
She still loves and tries to take care of me, and I still love her, too.
It had been a frustrating evening, too. Our car had been out on loan for the previous two days, and the person who'd had it thought it was entirely reasonable to keep it over one more night, even though that meant that my wife would be stuck without a car again for a third consecutive day. That hadn't been much of a problem, given her volunteer day on Wednesday, and since her friend had loaned her a vehicle for a doctor's appointment on Thursday, but I agreed with her that we needed a different answer for today. So we patiently worked with the person who had it to come up with a mutually-agreeable solution that would suit all of us. We stood our ground, and didn't let ourselves get run over by assumptions, but it really took a team effort to make that happen.
I 'd already been planning an early morning, and my chills had convinced me that an early evening was also a good idea. When I got home from dropping off our daughter at work, my head hung as I removed our keys from the car and noticed hers still attached. Ugh. So I went in the house and texted our daughter, but got no response. We then tried to look up a phone number for her work place, but the only number we could find was no longer in service. Those efforts wouldn't have mattered, as it turns out: yes, she needed her keys. Even though my wife had suggested that she could take them to her after the younger two granddaughters were asleep, the amount of time she spent continuing to look for a phone number after it was obvious we weren't going to find one made it equally obvious that she didn't want to go. So rather than waste further time in a fruitless effort that was probably only going to confirm what we needed to do anyway, I loaded my chills back into the car and drove back to our daughter's workplace, where she was most grateful that I had brought them to her. I then came back home and went to bed. So much for my early night, and I was plenty miffed about it. I'd also taken a disposable plastic and a paper soft drink cup out of the car; I might have left just the plastic one, but was afraid the paper one might give out and make a mess to deal with.
As soon as my head hit the pillow I knew I was feverish, but I still lay there for an hour before texting my wife and asking her to come up the stairs. I knew I was being a bit of a baby, not just taking care of myself, but wanted to be "evaluated" where I was. Sure enough: 101.1°. She brought me some acetaminophen, but I still lay there awake until 1 a.m., when I moved out to the sofa for a while. I slept fitfully through the night, but could tell that my fever had broken before I'd gotten out of bed.
She still loves and tries to take care of me, and I still love her, too.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
A political observation
I still don't know for certain who I'll vote for in the Republican primary, and if I did probably wouldn't say so publicly, but this I know: Jesus said that the most important trait of a leader is humility. So I will not be casting my vote for the front-runner. I do not understand why anyone who has met Jesus would think about voting for this man.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Sometimes I get to just relax
I'm kind of glad that Abba's Heart doesn't challenge me on every page to stop and reflect here. Sometimes it's nice to just read a few pages and soak in the stillness of the Father's loving heart for a bit.
Catching up on a promised quote
The first:
Experiencing intimacy with Jesus is often a comfort to those who have felt like orphans. Without knowing the Father, though, we cannot really know Jesus. Pope Benedict wrote that Jesus' communion with the Father is the "true center of his personality; without it, we cannot understand him at all, and it is from this center that he makes himself present to us still today." What is more, we cannot really know ourselves without the Father! In the words of St. John Paul II, writing in his papal encyclical "Rich in Mercy," "Man and man's lofty calling are revealed in Christ through the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love." Knowing the Father reveals Jesus the Son as well as your own identity in Him.
Knowing the Father and your place in His family changes the landscape of your life. It changes your perspective on your identity, your relationships, your purpose and your destiny. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I don't know the degree to which this is true for everyone, but it is true for me. Some of my most peaceful prayer times have been those few instances, in years past, when I have imagined resting my head on my Daddy's lap and soaking in His love for me. Those moments have been too rare in the intervening years, and even now I have not returned to that image, though I will shortly. But more significantly than any single moment, this knowledge of who I truly am - rejecting the temptation to hear the adversary's invitation to forsake my true self: "If you are a child of God . . . " - is empowering me to live in freedom from ways of thinking and acting with which I have struggled for decades.
Yes, knowing that I am the child of a Father who rejoices over me and longs for me to commune with Him is making a real difference in my life.
I know that there will be new areas of struggle and growth, but that is part of the joy of becoming more fully who I am as a child of my loving Father.
Experiencing intimacy with Jesus is often a comfort to those who have felt like orphans. Without knowing the Father, though, we cannot really know Jesus. Pope Benedict wrote that Jesus' communion with the Father is the "true center of his personality; without it, we cannot understand him at all, and it is from this center that he makes himself present to us still today." What is more, we cannot really know ourselves without the Father! In the words of St. John Paul II, writing in his papal encyclical "Rich in Mercy," "Man and man's lofty calling are revealed in Christ through the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love." Knowing the Father reveals Jesus the Son as well as your own identity in Him.
Knowing the Father and your place in His family changes the landscape of your life. It changes your perspective on your identity, your relationships, your purpose and your destiny. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I don't know the degree to which this is true for everyone, but it is true for me. Some of my most peaceful prayer times have been those few instances, in years past, when I have imagined resting my head on my Daddy's lap and soaking in His love for me. Those moments have been too rare in the intervening years, and even now I have not returned to that image, though I will shortly. But more significantly than any single moment, this knowledge of who I truly am - rejecting the temptation to hear the adversary's invitation to forsake my true self: "If you are a child of God . . . " - is empowering me to live in freedom from ways of thinking and acting with which I have struggled for decades.
Yes, knowing that I am the child of a Father who rejoices over me and longs for me to commune with Him is making a real difference in my life.
I know that there will be new areas of struggle and growth, but that is part of the joy of becoming more fully who I am as a child of my loving Father.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Getting to know my Father
I am really enjoying this book.
Though God has no body and is neither male nor female, He is Father. (Neal has developed this thought, and I will revisit a couple of the places he has done so, but this next sentence is the one I'm trying to soak in this morning.) Human fatherhood is the pale reflection of God's pure and loving Fatherhood, not the other way around. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I was already observing how my own experiences of fatherhood, both as a son and, especially (and that word is by no means me being harsh with myself), as a father, fell so utterly short of God's perfect Fatherhood, and here is Neal gently saying that yes, that's true, but it's true for every single one of us. Even the greatest human parent is a flawed, imperfect human being who falls short in some way from being able to provide for everything that his children truly need. It is impossible for us to do more than aspire and strive toward being the sort of parent we have in the Father, in Abba. But neither Jesus's perfection as Son nor Abba's as Father are meant to be standards we can never hope to reach, even when Jesus says, "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." (emphasis added) There's a reason why this challenging line from the Sermon on the Mount is only offered in the context of loving our enemies, who do not love us! Abba loves us so perfectly that while we were still sinners (Rom 5:8) He sent His Son to deliver us back into His heart! The perfect Fatherhood of Abba's Heart calls us, no matter how we have been broken, to know Love intimately, closely, as we can only do by loving as we are loved.
from earlier:
Many people grow up in families but still sense they are orphans, feeling lost, lonely, isolated, rejected and abandoned. They cannot receive the affirmation of their fathers and mothers, either because actions speak louder than words or their own wounds do not allow them to accept it. They sense deep down that something is wrong with them, and nobody knows it. They believe that they will never measure up.
Alienation from God the Father can be felt in the pain and emptiness left by our parents, no matter how hard they tried to fill the void. As we walk further down this path, you may be confronted with that pain and emptiness. Do not be afraid. No matter how your life began or what was taken from you, the Father holds in His heart the healing you need. What matters most is that you are moving toward His open arms.
Ahh. Balm.
Though God has no body and is neither male nor female, He is Father. (Neal has developed this thought, and I will revisit a couple of the places he has done so, but this next sentence is the one I'm trying to soak in this morning.) Human fatherhood is the pale reflection of God's pure and loving Fatherhood, not the other way around. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I was already observing how my own experiences of fatherhood, both as a son and, especially (and that word is by no means me being harsh with myself), as a father, fell so utterly short of God's perfect Fatherhood, and here is Neal gently saying that yes, that's true, but it's true for every single one of us. Even the greatest human parent is a flawed, imperfect human being who falls short in some way from being able to provide for everything that his children truly need. It is impossible for us to do more than aspire and strive toward being the sort of parent we have in the Father, in Abba. But neither Jesus's perfection as Son nor Abba's as Father are meant to be standards we can never hope to reach, even when Jesus says, "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." (emphasis added) There's a reason why this challenging line from the Sermon on the Mount is only offered in the context of loving our enemies, who do not love us! Abba loves us so perfectly that while we were still sinners (Rom 5:8) He sent His Son to deliver us back into His heart! The perfect Fatherhood of Abba's Heart calls us, no matter how we have been broken, to know Love intimately, closely, as we can only do by loving as we are loved.
from earlier:
Many people grow up in families but still sense they are orphans, feeling lost, lonely, isolated, rejected and abandoned. They cannot receive the affirmation of their fathers and mothers, either because actions speak louder than words or their own wounds do not allow them to accept it. They sense deep down that something is wrong with them, and nobody knows it. They believe that they will never measure up.
Alienation from God the Father can be felt in the pain and emptiness left by our parents, no matter how hard they tried to fill the void. As we walk further down this path, you may be confronted with that pain and emptiness. Do not be afraid. No matter how your life began or what was taken from you, the Father holds in His heart the healing you need. What matters most is that you are moving toward His open arms.
Ahh. Balm.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Okay, plan B this morning
I can't find my book anywhere. I was so looking forward to a bit of a reading before work.
Instead I'll take a few minutes to put away the dishes Teri washed so that I could make our Valentine's Day dinner last night. It really isn't fair that she thinks I do that for her. I mean, yeah, I'mt trying to cook things that she likes, but when I examine my own thoughts I can see that it's pretty clearly an affirmation grab.
Still, it was a very nice dinner. A little surf and turf in the form of a jumbo lump crabcake from Whole Foods and a pretty nice Porterhouse from Dot's, though not one of their high-end line of meats. We shared these, as I knew that would be plenty alongside the tortellini-stuffed acorn squash, which was a hit even though I needed to use spinach tortellini because Fresh Thyme (where I was when I thought of the idea) didn't have any cheese tortellini. Followed it up with raspberry-chocolate smoothies, made with homemade chocolate syrup and topped with freshly whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Teri later told me that just a taste of the whipped cream drizzled with chocolate syrup later was to die for.
At any rate, I think she enjoyed dinner as much as I did, and I had the afterglow of knowing I'd managed to make her feel special because of it, too.
Instead I'll take a few minutes to put away the dishes Teri washed so that I could make our Valentine's Day dinner last night. It really isn't fair that she thinks I do that for her. I mean, yeah, I'mt trying to cook things that she likes, but when I examine my own thoughts I can see that it's pretty clearly an affirmation grab.
Still, it was a very nice dinner. A little surf and turf in the form of a jumbo lump crabcake from Whole Foods and a pretty nice Porterhouse from Dot's, though not one of their high-end line of meats. We shared these, as I knew that would be plenty alongside the tortellini-stuffed acorn squash, which was a hit even though I needed to use spinach tortellini because Fresh Thyme (where I was when I thought of the idea) didn't have any cheese tortellini. Followed it up with raspberry-chocolate smoothies, made with homemade chocolate syrup and topped with freshly whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Teri later told me that just a taste of the whipped cream drizzled with chocolate syrup later was to die for.
At any rate, I think she enjoyed dinner as much as I did, and I had the afterglow of knowing I'd managed to make her feel special because of it, too.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
A broken moment leads to growth
I spat out the two angry words before taking even a moment to consider their predictable effect. The evening had already gone downhill, as the next round of conflicts with our granddaughters had washed away the glow of the pleasant evening we'd spent watching a movie together. I've seen that my wife's emphasis on placing obedience ahead of virtually every other consideration has not been nearly so effective with our grandchildren as it had been with our daughters - though I wish I'd known then what I do now. In the few chapters I read of The Explosive Child before returning it to the library, I began to get a glimpse of other, less confrontational ways of helping these little ones grow into the people they will become. But it isn't the sort of approach that one person alone can undertake, especially when the children's parents, teachers, and grandmother get so much more time with them than I do. Maybe I could find some support in the school, but at home, no one else bothered to read a word of this intriguing book.
So now our four- and seven-year-old granddaughters were acting up, or rather, out. They were both frustrated at still being with us this evening; mom was supposed to be off work by now, but her relief didn't show up as scheduled. The seven-year-old was the more frustrated one; she'd gotten very little time with her mom that day, just a few minutes after school, in the car, while grandma drove mom to work. Oh yeah: mom is without a car again.
So even when g-ma was trying to get them to be ready to go when mom was finished working, they were both in conflict mode. And while I agreed that the seven-year-old deserved the timeout she had been assigned, I judge that grandma is sometimes to quick to reach the final straw and call it a night, removing all hope from the child. She surely knew that she'd be asleep before mom was picked up if she was sent to bed for the night, and then she wouldn't get to see her at all! While trying to calm her down so that she could take her timeout, I heard a lot of what she was saying. Some of it, of course, was just a child trying to worm her way out of the trouble she was in, but there were valid roots in some of it.
So when my wife came up the stairs and started tossing orders my direction, too, I was not especially open to complying, either. That must have been frustrating for her, on top of the conflicts with the grandchildren, but then, I am not a child to be directed in such a way.
And when she told me, "You're being ridiculous," I felt completely dismissed. My reaction took all of two words which I'm certain made her feel as dismissed and belittled as I did, so maybe I would have spoken them even had I considered them first. But once I said them, I realized almost as they traveled through the air to her ear that we were done for the night. She left in anger. Our granddaughters did their respective times out, then I read to them while we waited for mom to be finished working. G-ma returned so that I could drive them to pick up mom and take them home, and I apologized again for my outburst. I explained the emotional place that it came from without blaming her for it, acknowledging that what I'd said to her was wrong in any circumstances. I picked up our daughter from work, then drove her and the grandchildren home. The dear seven-year-old fell asleep in the car, confirming her own fear that she wouldn't end up with any time with her mom yesterday.
When I got home, I told my wife that I understood that merely saying that I was sorry wasn't going to make everything okay, and that I respected her need for space from me. She'd told me that she wouldn't have come home last night had I not needed her car to transport so many people.
At some point in the night I saw and heard her enter the bedroom across the hallway; then she turned the lights out, so I figured that she had decided she didn't want to share the bed with me. I understood. Before much longer, I got up to find her asleep on the sofa and, not wanting to compound the problem by intruding on her space, I grabbed a throw from off of the loveseat and lay down on the living room floor. After a couple hours, I went into the spare bedroom and grabbed a more adequate blanket, and used one of the loveseat cushions as a pillow, so I might sleep more comfortably for my last hour before needing to arise for men's group.
I got up and showered, and quickly apologized when she sat upright as I turned on the bedroom light. I hadn't heard her move into the bedroom while I was showering. She smiled, and I could tell that she was feeling more accepting of me. I quickly doused the light and dressed, and when I attempted to kiss her cheek or head before leaving as is my custom, she turned and tenderly kissed me on the lips.
After men's group, she told me that she had tried to come to bed but couldn't get the dog to move. She knew that I knew she was on the sofa, and wondered why I hadn't awakened her to come to bed, as I usually would have. I explained that I was trying to be considerate of her feelings, and she was surprised when I told her where I'd spent the last half of the night.
We have things to work on, here. I still have to figure out why that phrase makes me feel such a strong emotional response. Of course it is a rejection, but there feels like something deep underneath my feelings. I would like for her to see how she dismisses, well, not just me, but pretty much everyone with whom she disagrees. After four decades together, beginning in high school, I have learned that there is very little chance of her offering an understanding apology for any of her own faux pas. Her greater need, though, is probably to be able to set boundaries that have not really been practical for her to establish given our daughter's circumstances, even given that some of those circumstances have been the direct result of our daughter's own decisions.
It seems clear to me, though, that I am moving on to grow in a new area. It's amazing how fast it happened. I've struggled with purity for so long, and through Abba's Heart God has given me a new and highly effective tool to use in response to those temptations. For the first time, I don't feel like I'm gutting it out against them but destined to fail eventually. My newfound confidence in the Father's joyful love for me is empowering my life. But other areas in which I need to continue to grow are no longer obscured by that long-ensnaring cycle which consumed so much of my attention and energy for so long.
For freedom you have been set free, and that freedom is far deeper and broader than one area of struggle. It isn't as if God just wants to remove a set of handcuffs, so that we can be more comfortable in our leg chains.
Friday, February 12, 2016
The Heart of the Father
I'm entering the section of the book Abba's Heart that I've been anticipating, in which Neal begins to address the effect that our broken relationships with our own fathers (and in my individual case, that would still be plural) interfere with our ability to open our hearts to receive the love of our heavenly Father. I am so grateful that this brokenness can be healed. I see it now as the source of my perfectionism (no, that's not always actually a good thing, it turns out), in addition to other things.
Some people treat this aspect of God's Trinitarian nature as optional, as if it really isn't important to relate to God in this way. But I am convinced that, in most cases, that is because that is easier than admitting our own brokenness and, more profoundly, trusting that God will heal it under His loving touch.
Next post will be a great quote from Pope Benedict on just how central this aspect of God is, but I don't have time for it this morning.
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Echoes of another book
Do we really understand what happened on that day we call "Good" Friday? Do we understand the Father's pain in watching Jesus, His Son, die, and in the loss of all who died in their sins, separated from Him? - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
I cannot help but recall Fr. Richard John Neuhaus' reflections from Death on a Friday Afternoon, on which I have written so often as I read during past Lenten seasons. I'm not sure I've ever fully made this link between the Father's heartbreak over his Son and over us. These two lines by themselves don't make this connection very well, of course, but this section of the book does.
I keep finding myself coming back to the initial thought at the front of the book. It has become my go-to thought in my traditional times of temptation, over which I have never had lasting victory and freedom. I am finding that this tangible reminder of my Father's love for me, in the form of a question to which I have consistently known the answer - Dad, do you love me? - has been the answer that my soul needs: a love from which I never want to separate myself.
I cannot help but recall Fr. Richard John Neuhaus' reflections from Death on a Friday Afternoon, on which I have written so often as I read during past Lenten seasons. I'm not sure I've ever fully made this link between the Father's heartbreak over his Son and over us. These two lines by themselves don't make this connection very well, of course, but this section of the book does.
I keep finding myself coming back to the initial thought at the front of the book. It has become my go-to thought in my traditional times of temptation, over which I have never had lasting victory and freedom. I am finding that this tangible reminder of my Father's love for me, in the form of a question to which I have consistently known the answer - Dad, do you love me? - has been the answer that my soul needs: a love from which I never want to separate myself.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Maybe I need to approach this season differently
For as long as I've tried to walk with the Lord, I have loved Lent. I love responding to God's loving call to sacrifice, pray, repent, and that is how I have always perceived it. I think I've gotten that part right.
But perhaps I've focused too much on what I'm doing in response to that call rather than allowing God to do what He is doing in me.
So this morning I need to not lament my failure to get up to read and reflect on this current, wonderful book, but instead appreciate how God continues to deliver me into the freedom to live in grace and mercy, which He has won for me.
But perhaps I've focused too much on what I'm doing in response to that call rather than allowing God to do what He is doing in me.
So this morning I need to not lament my failure to get up to read and reflect on this current, wonderful book, but instead appreciate how God continues to deliver me into the freedom to live in grace and mercy, which He has won for me.
Tuesday, February 09, 2016
More on slavery
Related to my last post:
At other times, we become comfortable in our chains. The children of Israel at least weren't starving in Egypt, and longed to return there when things became difficult in the desert. Likewise, our continued weakness in our area of former bondage to sin can seem attractive to us if we do not remind ourselves to renounce the lies in which it was rooted. This is why the five spiritual keys are as helpful for staying free as they are for being set free in the first place.
It is a lie that the positives of our sin are really what they appear to be. It is a lie that the moment of anger, the unkind word we want to speak, the feeling of superiority we indulge over others, or the pleasure we find in material things or sexual experiences are anything but empty promises that are meant to ensnare us.
I renounce these lies, and rely instead on Your perfect provision for all that I need, loving Father!
At other times, we become comfortable in our chains. The children of Israel at least weren't starving in Egypt, and longed to return there when things became difficult in the desert. Likewise, our continued weakness in our area of former bondage to sin can seem attractive to us if we do not remind ourselves to renounce the lies in which it was rooted. This is why the five spiritual keys are as helpful for staying free as they are for being set free in the first place.
It is a lie that the positives of our sin are really what they appear to be. It is a lie that the moment of anger, the unkind word we want to speak, the feeling of superiority we indulge over others, or the pleasure we find in material things or sexual experiences are anything but empty promises that are meant to ensnare us.
I renounce these lies, and rely instead on Your perfect provision for all that I need, loving Father!
Sunday, February 07, 2016
Denying our slavery
Neal Lozano makes a fascinating observation about Jesus confrontation with the Pharisees in Jn 8:21-59, in which he told them that the truth would set them free:
Instead of accepting his invitation, they distorted the truth and responded in unbelief: "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone? How can you say that we shall be set free?" (verse 33). What a strange retort, considering that all the children of Israel celebrated Passover every year, identifying themselves as former slaves who were set free by God Almighty. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
Likewise, we often think that the free society in which we live means that there is no bondage of any sort upon us, and fail to be set free from our sin. And once set free in one area, we fail to allow Jesus to reveal the additional ways that he wants to deliver us into freedom. Thus we remain stuck in bondage to old ways of thinking and behaving, even attributing our slavery to part of our nature.
Instead of accepting his invitation, they distorted the truth and responded in unbelief: "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone? How can you say that we shall be set free?" (verse 33). What a strange retort, considering that all the children of Israel celebrated Passover every year, identifying themselves as former slaves who were set free by God Almighty. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
Likewise, we often think that the free society in which we live means that there is no bondage of any sort upon us, and fail to be set free from our sin. And once set free in one area, we fail to allow Jesus to reveal the additional ways that he wants to deliver us into freedom. Thus we remain stuck in bondage to old ways of thinking and behaving, even attributing our slavery to part of our nature.
Friday, February 05, 2016
Like son
When Jesus told the parable of the father with two sons, He wanted to convict those who thought they were faithful to God. He wanted them to see that their hearts were actually hardened toward the Father and others, whereas the Father's heart was tender. He also told that story so that those who had been disobedient to God would know that the Father longs for them with a broken heart, ready to forgive and embrace them. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
My heart is so moved by these words. I want to soak in them and add to them, and it seems as if there is nothing more to be said in general terms.
I only know that I am so grateful that my heartbroken Father made a way for me to be reunited with him. It seems to me that it is hard to keep from being like the older son if you have never been like the younger. Perhaps the single way in which we are most frequently like the younger son is by being like the elder one.
My heart is so moved by these words. I want to soak in them and add to them, and it seems as if there is nothing more to be said in general terms.
I only know that I am so grateful that my heartbroken Father made a way for me to be reunited with him. It seems to me that it is hard to keep from being like the older son if you have never been like the younger. Perhaps the single way in which we are most frequently like the younger son is by being like the elder one.
Not my friend
Anyone who thinks that their final words to me need to be take care of my wife doesn't know me. At all.
Thursday, February 04, 2016
Okay, it's one of those books . . .
. . . that I just want to keep quoting from. I can't keep doing that. Get a copy. Abba's Heart. Neal Lozano, with Matthew Lozano. Read it just a nibble at a time. I'll keep reflecting on it here, but so far it's worth the whole read.
The Father's broken heart
There's an idea that Neal Lozano mentions that's based on an image from The Passion of The Christ, when the camera zooms out from above the cross and shows the Father's eye shedding one lone tear, which becomes a downpour on earth. Neal suggests that, in eternity, that tear was not shed only at the death of the eternal Son, but at the fall of Adam, and indeed at every sin of each of us. His heart breaks for us, over our separation from him.
He goes on to say that the image of the Father's broken heart is the Son's broken body on the cross. But he loves us so much that he chose to bear that heartbreak for us, before he created us, even knowing that we would separate ourselves from him.
He goes on to say that the image of the Father's broken heart is the Son's broken body on the cross. But he loves us so much that he chose to bear that heartbreak for us, before he created us, even knowing that we would separate ourselves from him.
Monday, February 01, 2016
Brokenhearted joy
. . . I would like to introduce the first of two foundational elements in Jesus' description of the Father: He is both brokenhearted and full of joy. If you understand these two truths about the Father, they will be weapons for you against any false images that have held you back from truly knowing Him. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
Well, let's start at the end and work our way back a little, but only a little, as Mr. Lozano has gone on to develop the first part in much more detail.
There is one inescapable thing that will always hold us back from truly, fully knowing the Father: our minds are finite, and He is infinite. But that doesn't keep us from being in relationship with Him, which is, of course, the knowledge of the Father to which we are all called, which He has made possible through Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I don't think I'm arguing with or correcting Neal here; I'm sure this is what he has in mind when he talks about "truly knowing Him."
Yes, our theology seems to have gotten skewed with regard to our conception of the Father. Because we need Jesus' sacrifice to enter His presence, we tend to think of the Father as the strict disciplinarian, and associate Jesus as the merciful One. But Jesus was the Father's plan for us all along!
I think that being parents gives us an experience of the Father's simultaneous heartbreak for us and joy in us like nothing else I've ever known.
Well, let's start at the end and work our way back a little, but only a little, as Mr. Lozano has gone on to develop the first part in much more detail.
There is one inescapable thing that will always hold us back from truly, fully knowing the Father: our minds are finite, and He is infinite. But that doesn't keep us from being in relationship with Him, which is, of course, the knowledge of the Father to which we are all called, which He has made possible through Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I don't think I'm arguing with or correcting Neal here; I'm sure this is what he has in mind when he talks about "truly knowing Him."
Yes, our theology seems to have gotten skewed with regard to our conception of the Father. Because we need Jesus' sacrifice to enter His presence, we tend to think of the Father as the strict disciplinarian, and associate Jesus as the merciful One. But Jesus was the Father's plan for us all along!
I think that being parents gives us an experience of the Father's simultaneous heartbreak for us and joy in us like nothing else I've ever known.
Two sons
One son sins openly and runs away from his father . . . . The other remains, but has withdrawn his heart from the father. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart
Two things about this. First: I have certainly been both sons, and perhaps this is true of many of us.
Secondly: It's pretty easy to fall into the second son's trap, for a couple of reasons. We tend to live by the comparative identity, and when we do, we need someone against whom to compare ourselves favorably. The other reason is: those who live rightly may fail to recognize how much that is also a gift of the Father's grace and mercy. When I believe that I have earned a status that, in truth, I could never merit, it's easy to start feeling proud of my accomplishments and lose sight of the gift I have received.
Two things about this. First: I have certainly been both sons, and perhaps this is true of many of us.
Secondly: It's pretty easy to fall into the second son's trap, for a couple of reasons. We tend to live by the comparative identity, and when we do, we need someone against whom to compare ourselves favorably. The other reason is: those who live rightly may fail to recognize how much that is also a gift of the Father's grace and mercy. When I believe that I have earned a status that, in truth, I could never merit, it's easy to start feeling proud of my accomplishments and lose sight of the gift I have received.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)