Earlier today a friend mentioned that quite often his clients ask him to "tweak" a project, but in reality want to make a major change. Most often they ask for a tweak because it would presumably cost less than a change. Funny how semantics work that way. I found it amusing that this topic would even come up because tweaking has been on my mind a lot recently. I think our culture has a huge problem with tweaking. It is like we're a nation of Tweakaholics.
What is tweaking, really? According to the Oxford Dictionary Online (it sounds credible, doesn't it?), to tweak something is to make fine adjustments to it. I think of tweaking is making it "just right". The problem is that "just right" is so elusive. Perfection really will never be found this side of heaven.
Tweaking is a luxury, really. It is what you do when you no longer have to get your most basic needs met and can move on to some level of fulfillment. The only problem is, that the tweaking is almost always done in an area that never will truly fulfill.
What if we collected the time we spend tweaking our lives and used it for some nobler purpose? What if we were less obsessed about what we look like or what we wear or what we eat or what we live in or what we drive and turned that time, energy, and resources in a more worthy direction? What if we spent the bulk of who we are in pursuit of things that do not fade away, wither, and die? Almost nothing we tweak can be taken with us. Not waistlines or kitchen counters or paint colors or hair or engines or term papers.
There is no perfection this side of heaven. We are told that "godliness with contentment is great gain" (I Timothy 6:6). We are to hold on to things very loosely. We are to hold on to life itself very loosely. Maybe we should try doing less tweaking and more loving. I wonder what that would look like.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
No Shame
I have pretty much been a wimp my entire life. All spineless 49 years of it. But every so often something happens that lights a fire under me and as my husband well knows, watch out. Sometimes it is seeing somebody else speak out with boldness that gives me courage. Sometimes it is getting so frustrated that I, as my grandmother would say, "bust a gusset". Sometimes it is just becoming so confident and at peace with my convictions that I cannot help but speak out. Today there was a harmonic convergence of all three.
The issue at hand is the Christian's use of antidepressants. (Note that when I am regarding antidepressants in their use to treat not only depression but also anxiety spectrum disorders and OCD) Now I have had a more intimate relationship with this class of drug than many people out there. Starting at age 12 when I could no longer function and had developed bizarre rituals to keep myself safe to age 17 while I tried to starve myself out of existence to age 24 when I reacted poorly to oral contraceptive use in early marriage and finally to age 33 when I could not longer live with a constant state of doom looming over my head and got on them for good. Antidepressants have been a part of my life for a long, long time. Every doctor I have seen in the past two decades has told me that my body obviously does not make enough serotonin. No doctor has ever seen a problem with their use.
Apparently a lot of Christians do. The concerns seem to go something like this: If you take meds you will feel better and therefore not address the sin causing your depression. Painful emotions are what drive you to Jesus and if you take meds you won't hurt and will not experience the depth of God's mercy. If you take meds you will become addicted to false something or nother. Meds are overused and it is unspiritual to be jumping on the bandwagon? I'm not sure really what all the hooplah is about, now that I think about it. I just know that taking meds, this class of meds, is a shameful thing for many Christians.
Well, this is what I have to say. We seek medical treatment for all sorts of conditions but feel it is somehow unbiblical to pursue so for ongoing depression? What are we? Christian Scientists? No. We live in a fallen world in fallen bodies. Sometimes those fallen bodies can create debilitating emotions.What if the depression isn't a spiritual problem? Or what if it even only partially a spiritual problem? What if a medication can enable you to better see the truth of the gospel and the wondrous works of God? What if the medication clears the cobwebs from your brain so that you are better able to see your sin and repent with joy? What if the medication actually helps you to sin less and embrace God more? This has been so true in my life and in the lives of so many people I know. Taking antidepressants is not a sin. But I would dare to say that making somebody feel inferior or ungodly because they do take medication IS.
I know that that sounds very harsh. But to treat somebody who is pursuing healing in their life as somehow unspiritual because they may need medication is downright cruel. We aren't all alike. Life is not a level playing field. Some of us are stronger than others in some areas and weaker in others. We are not the same. And sometimes we need some help.
Please know that I am not saying that drugs are the answer. Drugs alone are never the answer. Only full dependence on the grace of God is the answer. But if taking meds enables me to see God more clearly and trust him more fully and be the wife and mother and friend that I need to be and live the life he called me to live, then I am going to take them. Without shame.
I know that that sounds very harsh. But to treat somebody who is pursuing healing in their life as somehow unspiritual because they may need medication is downright cruel. We aren't all alike. Life is not a level playing field. Some of us are stronger than others in some areas and weaker in others. We are not the same. And sometimes we need some help.
Please know that I am not saying that drugs are the answer. Drugs alone are never the answer. Only full dependence on the grace of God is the answer. But if taking meds enables me to see God more clearly and trust him more fully and be the wife and mother and friend that I need to be and live the life he called me to live, then I am going to take them. Without shame.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Name the Cheeto Muncher
Thanks to my wonderful husband, Matt, my blog now looks like a blog instead of a test tube. I have totally fallen in love with this little fellow in the photo, munching away on the Cheeto (for breakfast, of course), but he needs a name. Give me suggestions. If I pick yours then I will write a blog post in your honor on the topic of your choice.
Let the game begin!
Let the game begin!
Monday, November 12, 2012
A Weighty Matter
Today I posed the question on Facebook, "How often do you weigh yourself?" So far the replies are what I have expected, all over the map. However, it does seem that the majority of responses fit into two camps: every day or almost never.
In Camp 1, the motivation of the "every day" people is pretty straightforward and totally understandable. If you struggle with your weight and want to keep a tight reign on it, you keep daily watch lest five pounds leaps onto the bandwagon while you're not looking.
The motivation for the "hardly ever" crowd in Camp 2 seems to fall into two categories. The first is the category that every female dreams of fitting into but few ever make it there. These rare individuals don't get on a scale unless they are at the doctor's office because they just don't think about it. Weight is the farthest thing from their mind and they are totally comfortable in the body God gave them. Life is full of so much more and, well, what is a number, anyway? Sounds like heaven, huh ladies?
The second is far more common. The scale is the Doomsday machine. The purveyor of evil. The scale sees all and knows all and, worst of all, TELLS all. Turns out that a major reason people avoid going to the doctor is that they don't want to be weighed. Last year, someone who will remain nameless (you can fess up if you want, you know who you are), wore shorts and sandals to the doctor's office in the freezing cold so that she would not weigh so much. Some choose to stand on the scales backwards and ask the nurse not to tell them the number. Others flat out refuse to be weighed at all and threaten to go elsewhere for medical care.
It's funny, isn't it? That a number can be so powerful. It makes no sense whatsoever, but the majority of women (and indeed some men) in our culture are influenced or controlled to some extent by that number.
I am not here slinging mud at others that I have not been bathed in myself. I spent several years of my young life in Camp 1. I weighed myself every day and, sometimes, several times a day. Of course, that is excessive and obsessive and I was terribly mixed up in the bizarre pursuit of the thinness that sucks the joy and life (sometimes literally) out of people. That is a long and messy story that I won't go into here but God graciously healed me through that over the years and brought me to a place of greater peace and less angst.
After the birth of my last child, we tossed out our rusty scale. We didn't want our children, especially our three daughters, growing up with a scale in the house and I knew that I didn't need the temptation to focus on that part of my life as I waded (or waddled?) into middle age. So I moved into Camp 2. Now I won't say that I NEVER weighed myself. There were occasional opportunities, but I would only do so when I felt "thin". All you ladies know what I mean. You can just TELL.
A couple of years back my husband bought a scale without my knowing it, so that he could monitor his attempt to rein in his middle aged middle. He kept the scale hidden for months before I found it in the back of a file cabinet drawer one day.
So now I am one of the "every so often" kind of people that don't really have much of a camp because there aren't very many of them. But even in this small camp I find that the numbers can still have more power than they were ever meant to. And it's crazy. And I say we stage a revolt.
By what authority can a number ever, ever, EVER define who you are as a person? Our culture is sick, deranged, and hell-bent on distracting us away from what truly matters. Whether it is airbrushed models or hyper-fit yoga instructors or uber-righteous news reporters telling us all how fat we are, the world screams that our value is all wrapped up in our physical packages and that bodies that are broken or floppy or fail to live up to the current standard of beauty are of no value. Not only are they of no value, but they are a source of shame and scorn.
But Jesus came for the sick, the scorned, the outcasts. Jesus never once mentioned a number on a scale. He doesn't say, "Blessed are you with a body mass index of 19-25, for yours is the Kingdom of Heaven." He never says to the Pharisees, "Why are you so FAT?" He addresses the heart.
What does God require of us? To do justice and love mercy and walk humbly with him, regardless of a silly number.
In Camp 1, the motivation of the "every day" people is pretty straightforward and totally understandable. If you struggle with your weight and want to keep a tight reign on it, you keep daily watch lest five pounds leaps onto the bandwagon while you're not looking.
The motivation for the "hardly ever" crowd in Camp 2 seems to fall into two categories. The first is the category that every female dreams of fitting into but few ever make it there. These rare individuals don't get on a scale unless they are at the doctor's office because they just don't think about it. Weight is the farthest thing from their mind and they are totally comfortable in the body God gave them. Life is full of so much more and, well, what is a number, anyway? Sounds like heaven, huh ladies?
The second is far more common. The scale is the Doomsday machine. The purveyor of evil. The scale sees all and knows all and, worst of all, TELLS all. Turns out that a major reason people avoid going to the doctor is that they don't want to be weighed. Last year, someone who will remain nameless (you can fess up if you want, you know who you are), wore shorts and sandals to the doctor's office in the freezing cold so that she would not weigh so much. Some choose to stand on the scales backwards and ask the nurse not to tell them the number. Others flat out refuse to be weighed at all and threaten to go elsewhere for medical care.
It's funny, isn't it? That a number can be so powerful. It makes no sense whatsoever, but the majority of women (and indeed some men) in our culture are influenced or controlled to some extent by that number.
I am not here slinging mud at others that I have not been bathed in myself. I spent several years of my young life in Camp 1. I weighed myself every day and, sometimes, several times a day. Of course, that is excessive and obsessive and I was terribly mixed up in the bizarre pursuit of the thinness that sucks the joy and life (sometimes literally) out of people. That is a long and messy story that I won't go into here but God graciously healed me through that over the years and brought me to a place of greater peace and less angst.
After the birth of my last child, we tossed out our rusty scale. We didn't want our children, especially our three daughters, growing up with a scale in the house and I knew that I didn't need the temptation to focus on that part of my life as I waded (or waddled?) into middle age. So I moved into Camp 2. Now I won't say that I NEVER weighed myself. There were occasional opportunities, but I would only do so when I felt "thin". All you ladies know what I mean. You can just TELL.
A couple of years back my husband bought a scale without my knowing it, so that he could monitor his attempt to rein in his middle aged middle. He kept the scale hidden for months before I found it in the back of a file cabinet drawer one day.
So now I am one of the "every so often" kind of people that don't really have much of a camp because there aren't very many of them. But even in this small camp I find that the numbers can still have more power than they were ever meant to. And it's crazy. And I say we stage a revolt.
By what authority can a number ever, ever, EVER define who you are as a person? Our culture is sick, deranged, and hell-bent on distracting us away from what truly matters. Whether it is airbrushed models or hyper-fit yoga instructors or uber-righteous news reporters telling us all how fat we are, the world screams that our value is all wrapped up in our physical packages and that bodies that are broken or floppy or fail to live up to the current standard of beauty are of no value. Not only are they of no value, but they are a source of shame and scorn.
But Jesus came for the sick, the scorned, the outcasts. Jesus never once mentioned a number on a scale. He doesn't say, "Blessed are you with a body mass index of 19-25, for yours is the Kingdom of Heaven." He never says to the Pharisees, "Why are you so FAT?" He addresses the heart.
What does God require of us? To do justice and love mercy and walk humbly with him, regardless of a silly number.
A Wee Bit of Advice
I HATE advice. Especially unsolicited advice. I really try not to give advice unless asked.
Another thing I hate is our culture's obsession with health and wellness and weight. Taking it into consideration is a good thing. Hanging all of life, liberty and happiness on it is not.
Yet ANOTHER thing I hate is how this world has become even more divided into camps, so that the advice coming from one side cancels out the advice coming from the other and you can find yourself in an absolute schizophrenic frenzy whether you want to survive under the grasp of the evil "change of life," shed a few pounds, or even just grocery shop for your ravenous family.
The advice tends to come from two sides: the Experts and the experts. The Experts are those actually trained in the subjects of medicine, pharmacology, health, and nutrition. They have degrees from credentialed institutions of higher learning. The experts are everybody else. For some reason the experts seem to have the upper hand these days. The rebellion against the medical establishment is large and loud.
On the one side I see the problem. The overprescription of drugs. The overuse of pesticides. The lack of emphasis on "healthy" living (healthy being a rather elusive target).
On the other side I see a problem, too. The assumption that the that a "natural" supplement is always better than a manmade medication (note that I said always) and that the "healthy" living (i.e. the right diet) will cure all ills.
Now the right diet itself is up for such debate it makes your head spin: vegetarian, vegan, raw foods, whole foods (not the store), organic, gluten free, low fat, low carb, paleo, macrobiotic. Eat this. Don't eat that. And by all means, flee the high fructose corn syrup. It is mind boggling and maddening and if you listened to everybody you would be stuck living off of nothing but organic raw broccoli FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Barf.
So, I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of this bizarre obsession with weight and health and doing it all "right." I'm sick of people telling me to entrust my body (and its raging and/or absent hormones) to a fellow in the back of Green Life instead of the doctor who has treated me for years and knows my rather complicated medical and (full disclosure here) mental health history.
So now it is MY turn to give advice. Hah! By the way, I'm one of the Experts. (B.S. in Nutrition and Dietetics, University of Tennessee, 1986) I haven't worked in the field in over two decades but I have tried to keep up with the comings and goings of trends and information. Much of what I am saying I said back then. Now I only say it with even more emphasis and perspective.
Carry on.
Another thing I hate is our culture's obsession with health and wellness and weight. Taking it into consideration is a good thing. Hanging all of life, liberty and happiness on it is not.
Yet ANOTHER thing I hate is how this world has become even more divided into camps, so that the advice coming from one side cancels out the advice coming from the other and you can find yourself in an absolute schizophrenic frenzy whether you want to survive under the grasp of the evil "change of life," shed a few pounds, or even just grocery shop for your ravenous family.
The advice tends to come from two sides: the Experts and the experts. The Experts are those actually trained in the subjects of medicine, pharmacology, health, and nutrition. They have degrees from credentialed institutions of higher learning. The experts are everybody else. For some reason the experts seem to have the upper hand these days. The rebellion against the medical establishment is large and loud.
On the one side I see the problem. The overprescription of drugs. The overuse of pesticides. The lack of emphasis on "healthy" living (healthy being a rather elusive target).
On the other side I see a problem, too. The assumption that the that a "natural" supplement is always better than a manmade medication (note that I said always) and that the "healthy" living (i.e. the right diet) will cure all ills.
Now the right diet itself is up for such debate it makes your head spin: vegetarian, vegan, raw foods, whole foods (not the store), organic, gluten free, low fat, low carb, paleo, macrobiotic. Eat this. Don't eat that. And by all means, flee the high fructose corn syrup. It is mind boggling and maddening and if you listened to everybody you would be stuck living off of nothing but organic raw broccoli FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Barf.
So, I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of this bizarre obsession with weight and health and doing it all "right." I'm sick of people telling me to entrust my body (and its raging and/or absent hormones) to a fellow in the back of Green Life instead of the doctor who has treated me for years and knows my rather complicated medical and (full disclosure here) mental health history.
So now it is MY turn to give advice. Hah! By the way, I'm one of the Experts. (B.S. in Nutrition and Dietetics, University of Tennessee, 1986) I haven't worked in the field in over two decades but I have tried to keep up with the comings and goings of trends and information. Much of what I am saying I said back then. Now I only say it with even more emphasis and perspective.
- There is no magic bullet. There is no supplement, substance or food that will cure you of everything. Only death will do that.
- Never trust health or nutrition advice from a company or website that has something to sell. There is an inherent conflict of interest. If it looks like good information, then find that confirmed somewhere else, preferably a scientific study done by an independent party, and not just from testimonials.
- Unless you have a specific medical issue (kidney failure, diabetes, food allergies, phenylketonuria, etc.) there really isn't a food that is going to hurt you as long as you consume it in moderation. Categorizing foods into "good" and "bad" categories sets you up for an unhealthy way to relate to food.
- If you are in pursuit of weight loss, make it a pursuit of healthier living. Make small, incremental changes that you can live with for the rest of your life. (I may do an entire blog post on what evil "diets" do to our physical and mental health.)
- Put relationships ahead of the pursuit of your ideal. They really are more important, after all. If you cannot accept a dinner invitation because your host may not cook the "right" foods for you, there's a problem. You can be organic or paleo or whatever you jolly well please at home, but if you can't enjoy the company of others around the table or your kid can't eat a pizza at the school party because of your nutritional ideals, you're too obsessed.
- Be careful with the indignation with which you express your views. You may be speaking to someone who does not or cannot share your lifestyle or convictions. Somebody may actually NEED medication, no matter how healthy of a life they lead.
- Remember that you are going to die. Some day. A healthy lifestyle can go a decent way in preventing certain types of diseases, but it can only do so much. One day SOMETHING will lay you low, whether the source is lifestyle, genetics, accidents or just old age. Don't be shocked. You will not live forever. (When Jackie Kennedy Onassis was diagnosed with lymphoma at the age of 64 she told her kids in "mock indignation" that she was "proud at being so fit. I swim and I jog...and walk around the reservoir -- and now this suddenly happens...Why in the world did I do all those push-ups?")
- And above all, don't make this your god. There is only one God. He made you for so much more than pursuing health and evading death. Yes, we are to be stewards of the bodies he gave us but we are also to enjoy life and the world he has made.
Carry on.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Mommy Blog Rant
I am getting really worn out by the mommy blogs. It seems that every mother of small children out there has a mommy blog. Now some of these are pure fun. They regale you with the ins and outs of mothering small monsters and scheming cherubs and have at least some of us shaking our head in a knowing way and giggling that we remember that well.
I guess I could write blogs like that but I am not a mommy anymore. I am a mom... and a grandmother, and my children are of the age that any mention of their shenanigans just might saddle them with an extra large dose of blog-induced shame. Perhaps one day I will present my offspring with a written waiver, allowing me to disclose what little I can remember of my early parenting days and holding me harmless for any stain to their reputation. But I'm not that brave....yet.
Then there are the other blogs. The teachy blogs. The preachy blogs. The sappy, get-your-spiritual-lesson-here blogs. I can't read those. They make me feel guilty (most things do, by the way). I could never be one of those moms.
Sometimes these blogs tell us what is most crucial as a parent and sometimes the bar gets raised higher and higher. Oh, this stuff all sounds so good on paper but in reality may be much more difficult to pull off, at least for some of us.
Some people just seem to be natural mothers. They are organized and disciplined and love to do things with paper plates and glitter (shudder). These are the moms that are not fazed by juggling multiple small children and keeping chaos at bay. I can only assume that when God handed out this Child Raising Skill Kit, I was in the bathroom.
Last week a friend linked to a a mommy blog article that actually sounded very good (on paper). It was all about teaching your kids that they can take you at your word so that they learn how to keep their word or something like that. I read the blog poster's bio and she is actually a mother of four, though it did not say what ages her four are.
I guess what got to me is that this blog, like most, seem to imply that so much of our kids' moral and spiritual development is dependent on what we do or don't do, even in the early years. Bummer!
Perhaps I am the only one who struggled here but this "make your yes be yes and your no be no" principle can be really hard to pull off. I remember when mine were little and the buzzword in parenting was consistency. You must be consistent with your children or they will grow up deranged and drooling. That was all good and well with my first, or at least I could make a B grade in the consistency department, but when I got pregnant with #2 it all went out the window.
Will someone please tell me how you are supposed to be consistent when you are puking your guts out and your 14 month old is pouring out the box of Cheerios or taking apart the television? The "no, don't do that" suddenly becomes a "here, honey, enjoy yourself."
And those rules on consequences to behavior! "Never tell a kid they will have a consequence and not give it to them." That is fine and dandy if you can actually remember. All I know is that by the time I got home from Wal-Mart or the grocery store or whatever place I braved with my brood, any memory of the hair pulling or the karate chop to the sister's solar plexus (which requires a consequence in the parenting books) was replaced by the temper tantrum or the toddler who peed in the cereal aisle. Consequences? Who? What? Just give me some Calgon and a glass of wine. I was happy to have made it home alive.
I am not saying that parents shouldn't be parents. I am just saying that it is **** hard to be a parent and all these blogs of should this and do that can be overwhelming and lead one to believe that this level of parenting can actually be achieved. And maybe it can, for some.
But what I have learned over my almost 23 years as a mother is that you fail more than you succeed. You are weak more than you are strong. You mess up more than you get it right. And that is where you meet Jesus. I know God will have mercy on my children, for he has had mercy on me.
I guess I could write blogs like that but I am not a mommy anymore. I am a mom... and a grandmother, and my children are of the age that any mention of their shenanigans just might saddle them with an extra large dose of blog-induced shame. Perhaps one day I will present my offspring with a written waiver, allowing me to disclose what little I can remember of my early parenting days and holding me harmless for any stain to their reputation. But I'm not that brave....yet.
Then there are the other blogs. The teachy blogs. The preachy blogs. The sappy, get-your-spiritual-lesson-here blogs. I can't read those. They make me feel guilty (most things do, by the way). I could never be one of those moms.
Sometimes these blogs tell us what is most crucial as a parent and sometimes the bar gets raised higher and higher. Oh, this stuff all sounds so good on paper but in reality may be much more difficult to pull off, at least for some of us.
Some people just seem to be natural mothers. They are organized and disciplined and love to do things with paper plates and glitter (shudder). These are the moms that are not fazed by juggling multiple small children and keeping chaos at bay. I can only assume that when God handed out this Child Raising Skill Kit, I was in the bathroom.
Last week a friend linked to a a mommy blog article that actually sounded very good (on paper). It was all about teaching your kids that they can take you at your word so that they learn how to keep their word or something like that. I read the blog poster's bio and she is actually a mother of four, though it did not say what ages her four are.
I guess what got to me is that this blog, like most, seem to imply that so much of our kids' moral and spiritual development is dependent on what we do or don't do, even in the early years. Bummer!
Perhaps I am the only one who struggled here but this "make your yes be yes and your no be no" principle can be really hard to pull off. I remember when mine were little and the buzzword in parenting was consistency. You must be consistent with your children or they will grow up deranged and drooling. That was all good and well with my first, or at least I could make a B grade in the consistency department, but when I got pregnant with #2 it all went out the window.
Will someone please tell me how you are supposed to be consistent when you are puking your guts out and your 14 month old is pouring out the box of Cheerios or taking apart the television? The "no, don't do that" suddenly becomes a "here, honey, enjoy yourself."
And those rules on consequences to behavior! "Never tell a kid they will have a consequence and not give it to them." That is fine and dandy if you can actually remember. All I know is that by the time I got home from Wal-Mart or the grocery store or whatever place I braved with my brood, any memory of the hair pulling or the karate chop to the sister's solar plexus (which requires a consequence in the parenting books) was replaced by the temper tantrum or the toddler who peed in the cereal aisle. Consequences? Who? What? Just give me some Calgon and a glass of wine. I was happy to have made it home alive.
I am not saying that parents shouldn't be parents. I am just saying that it is **** hard to be a parent and all these blogs of should this and do that can be overwhelming and lead one to believe that this level of parenting can actually be achieved. And maybe it can, for some.
But what I have learned over my almost 23 years as a mother is that you fail more than you succeed. You are weak more than you are strong. You mess up more than you get it right. And that is where you meet Jesus. I know God will have mercy on my children, for he has had mercy on me.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Class VI Rapids and Sex
This morning on Facebook a friend posted a link to an article by Steve DeWitt. Steve is the 44 year-old pastor and he is getting married for the FIRST time (gasp!) this Saturday. The article, blogpost really, is called The Bachelor Pastor and actually has some excellent points and encouraging content. I had planned to share it on Facebook until I got near the end.
It is there that he recounts his battle to remain celibate until marriage, an admirable quality, indeed. Don't get me wrong. I am sure that such an accomplishment takes a tremendous amount of commitment, self-control, and prayer, if not a padlock on the zipper, and I know people who have maintained their virginity for decades. I salute them and admire them for this. For those of us who married at a younger age and at a different time and in a less sex saturated culture, the need for such vigilance and endurance was not quite as acute. It just seemed to me the author was congratulating himself and his fiance for their success and I couldn't help but feel for so many out there who have tried to remain pure but, in this area, have failed.
My husband says that there is nothing the world talks about more and the church talks about less than sex. I mean REALLY talk about sex. Most young people get the message, "There is this thing out there called sex. Don't do it." And they are never given the skills or the information to maneuver in a world saturated and drowning in sexual images, desires, and opportunities.
Before I went rafting down the Nantahala River we were given some safety tips. One of those tips was IF you are thrown from the boat and find yourself in the river, DO NOT PUT YOUR FEET DOWN! If you do and a foot gets stuck in the rocks, you could drown. You keep your feet up and yourself as much as possible on top of the water until you can make it to the side and/or someone can get to you. The intention was not to tell us this so that we go diving in to the water for the sheer fun of it, but things happen. Rocks jut up, other rafts ram in behind, the right current and the wrong angle and you can go flying and get very, very wet. Knowing what to do in the event of the swim made for a more relaxing and confident and safer raft ride.
The analogy is by no means perfect but I hope the point is clear enough. Some people are able to navigate the sexual vats of our culture without getting wet. Others fly, splash, and may even drown, some so much so that their shame prevents them from coming to Jesus. Purity becomes a black and white issue. All or nothing. Some struggle with feeling like second class citizens while others hang their heads, walk away and assume the pearly white kingdom doors are shut to the likes of them. They quit trying and get carried away by the Class VI rapids of our culture and of despair.
The truth is that we ALL need the gospel and we all need the gospel equally all the time for every choice and every breath. Sexual sin is like every other sin. You turn from your sin to God. You run TO Jesus. You are cleansed. You are made pure. A wise young woman said to me that purity is not a quantity to be used up, it is a lifestyle. A choice. You do not have to have a perfect track record to get into the good graces of God, as the woman at the well found out in John 4 and King David confessed in Psalm 51. What God desires is a broken and contrite heart.
Life is so much more than succeeding and failing. It is sinning and repenting. It is keeping our feet up and grabbing hold of Jesus if we get thrown into the rapids. It is reaching for Jesus over and over and over again, for he alone can create in us clean hearts and godly lives.
It is there that he recounts his battle to remain celibate until marriage, an admirable quality, indeed. Don't get me wrong. I am sure that such an accomplishment takes a tremendous amount of commitment, self-control, and prayer, if not a padlock on the zipper, and I know people who have maintained their virginity for decades. I salute them and admire them for this. For those of us who married at a younger age and at a different time and in a less sex saturated culture, the need for such vigilance and endurance was not quite as acute. It just seemed to me the author was congratulating himself and his fiance for their success and I couldn't help but feel for so many out there who have tried to remain pure but, in this area, have failed.
My husband says that there is nothing the world talks about more and the church talks about less than sex. I mean REALLY talk about sex. Most young people get the message, "There is this thing out there called sex. Don't do it." And they are never given the skills or the information to maneuver in a world saturated and drowning in sexual images, desires, and opportunities.
Before I went rafting down the Nantahala River we were given some safety tips. One of those tips was IF you are thrown from the boat and find yourself in the river, DO NOT PUT YOUR FEET DOWN! If you do and a foot gets stuck in the rocks, you could drown. You keep your feet up and yourself as much as possible on top of the water until you can make it to the side and/or someone can get to you. The intention was not to tell us this so that we go diving in to the water for the sheer fun of it, but things happen. Rocks jut up, other rafts ram in behind, the right current and the wrong angle and you can go flying and get very, very wet. Knowing what to do in the event of the swim made for a more relaxing and confident and safer raft ride.
The analogy is by no means perfect but I hope the point is clear enough. Some people are able to navigate the sexual vats of our culture without getting wet. Others fly, splash, and may even drown, some so much so that their shame prevents them from coming to Jesus. Purity becomes a black and white issue. All or nothing. Some struggle with feeling like second class citizens while others hang their heads, walk away and assume the pearly white kingdom doors are shut to the likes of them. They quit trying and get carried away by the Class VI rapids of our culture and of despair.
The truth is that we ALL need the gospel and we all need the gospel equally all the time for every choice and every breath. Sexual sin is like every other sin. You turn from your sin to God. You run TO Jesus. You are cleansed. You are made pure. A wise young woman said to me that purity is not a quantity to be used up, it is a lifestyle. A choice. You do not have to have a perfect track record to get into the good graces of God, as the woman at the well found out in John 4 and King David confessed in Psalm 51. What God desires is a broken and contrite heart.
Life is so much more than succeeding and failing. It is sinning and repenting. It is keeping our feet up and grabbing hold of Jesus if we get thrown into the rapids. It is reaching for Jesus over and over and over again, for he alone can create in us clean hearts and godly lives.
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