On the heels of that sermon, comes this article about St Philips church in Tucson. It is difficult to surrender control (for me, it is an almost daily struggle) and take the backseat- I completely understand this fact. But you know what? If we are to follow Him, we have to (Dad, skip this part) suck it up and set our egos aside.
Guess what? God is in charge! Guess what else? He will not conform to our little ideas! Guess what else? He is big enough to overcome whatever barriers we may put up! There are no excuses, folks. We may not like what He says, and we sure are not going to see perfection in this world, but He hasn't given up on me and I am not going to give up on Him.
How fast can you type?
Not very fast, I am afraid. The last time I was tested, it was 55 wpm. I confess that I am a self-taught typist, as the typing classes in school always conflicted with art or music classes.
What is your favorite online game?
Zuma! I am a recovering Chicken Invaders addict as well.
On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 as highest), how intelligent do you think you are?
I am not comfortable with this question, and I shall refrain from answering.
Name three of your best teachers from your school years.
1) Dr Singh was my high school Latin and Greek teacher. She the all-time best teacher I have ever had, and probably ever wil have. No nonsense, no excuses, no class too small. Doc gave up her morning planning to teach us Greek, and she gave up her lunch hour to teach four of us AP Latin; if we were willing to put in the work, Doc was more than willing to provide the support. She even taught a prep course for the Verbal portion of the SAT in the evenings. (BTW, these classes were completely on HER time; they did not cost us anything extra.)
2) Ms Haddon, eighth grade science. There were forty students in my eighth grade science class. There were not enough spaces at tables for us, so we took turns sitting at the back counter. And yet, Ms Haddon made sure we had lab activities each week. I think middle school teachers have a mental illness which compels them to teach ungrateful brats year in, year out. (My mom has that same illness, BTW)
3) Dr Phelps- high school chemistry. Dr Phelps was a visiting professor from Kentucky who also taught at the DRS. Even though she was used to a different caliber of student, she was able to communicate with us. Too many "professors" are actually lousy "teachers," but not so her. She structured our course much like university chemistry (we spent two marking periods testing our unknown solutions), and even managed to slip some organic in at the end of the year. I was in ninth grade and brand new at FSU school (a K-12 school); it helped to not be the only new kid on the block. Oh yeah, and she totally knew that Jason O'Steen was stealing my answers in class discussions.
What are your plans for this upcoming weekend?
Oh, let me see... Jon is working Saturday, so I will be running a couple errands and sewing a backdrop for GP Kidz. I am going to shampoo the carpet Saturday afternoon, and help out with movie night. Oh yeah, and we will be baptized on Sunday. ;)
Come dine with us here.
Story upon story here.
Lastly, here is something to do about it.
Tonight, however, is a new low.
Labels: what a dork
What is your favorite kind of bread?
Um, I am a bread fanatic. Lately, I have been trying to perfect a beautiful milk bread recipe. My next loaves will be semolina bread, though. Growing up, my favorite was Mom's onion bread.
SoupAbout six or eight months ago. Before that, I am too embarrassed to admit.
When was the last time you bought a new pillow?
Approximately how many hours per week do you spend surfing the ‘net?
Twenty hours? Could be more, but that would depend on what I am doing at work. I think I need to channel some of that surfing time into sewing time.
What’s the highest you remember your temperature being?
I really cannot say for sure, but I do remember 102.5 once. A very sick girl, was I.
Fill in the blanks: When I ____________, I _____________.
When I laugh, I sometimes snort.
Come dine with us here.
What? A love offering to help cover some pretty huge medical expenses.
Where? At Boomama's place.
Why? Well, to quote Boomama, to "Bless Heather's socks off!"
How? Just click the "Make a Donation" button and go.
And if you want to have your socks blessed right off, read Heather's story.
When you were a child, which crayon color was your favorite?
Cornflower was always the smallest crayon in my box. I used it pretty much to the exclusion of all other blues.
SoupI would have to put this on the very low end of the scale, perhaps 2, because there is more to be considered than my employment. Jon's career path somewhat limits us geographically (not too many openings for sound engineers in Small Town Anywhere, USA)
On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 being highest), how likely would you be to change jobs if it required you to move?
Take all the numbers in your birthday and your phone number and add them up, one by one. What’s the total?
79 with area code.
Have you ever “re-gifted” anything? If so, what was it and who did you pass it on to?
I don't think I have. I cannot remember, and even if I could, I don't think I would choose my blog as confession point. Too great a risk of hurt feelings.
Name something you need from the store.
Chicken for Jon's work cook-out.
His obnoxious remarks (and those of his producer) have, quite understandably, cost him his job. Ok? I think it is probably a wise response on the part of CBS, given that sponsors were dropping like flies.
All this makes perfect sense to me, really. And then comes the latest. Oprah. Ms. Winfrey invited the Rutgers team in question to her couches, and this is the quote I hear from Coach Stringer:
"Not only did he steal our dreams, he hurt our character of Rutgers University, our state, and all who have been associated."
Wow. Someone has just give Don Imus, stupid (albeit successful) radio host a WHOLE LOTTA POWER. Can we please get some perspective here, ladies? I am sad that these women put so much stock in what Don Imus and his neanderthal cohorts say on air.
Civil unrest and riots in City Life
Body count in Sims:
1 mother (within first day of play)
1 drummer (again within first day of play)
Both Sims deaths were kitchen fires.
On a lighter note, I was able to witness the demise of the drummer, and Sims do a rather funny burning to death dance. Stop, drop, and roll was apparently not an option.
I think that I will be doing the grilling from here on out...
I am Peter, quick out of the gate and quick to deny Him. I have gone out half-cocked and ill-prepared; I have forgotten whose I am when the chips were down. There may not be a rooster, but my failure is obvious, nevertheless.
I am James and John, falling asleep on the job. How often have I missed Him, simply because I was too caught up in myself to watch?
I am Caiaphas, demanding God prove Himself to me, when I have no right to ask such.
I am Pilate, taking the easy way out.
I am the mob, losing sight of Him and allowing myself to be caught in the frenzy.
I am all these people, and yet He has freed me. I am worthless, yet made worthy; I am broken, yet made whole.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, grant us thy peace.
I see the envious looks. You are wondering what hold I must have over this man. I see it in all your faces as we traipse through the store. I hear the quick intakes of breath all around as this man not only doesn't complain, but even actively participates in the decision process. You are wondering if there are more like him somewhere (sorry ladies, I got the last one); you simply cannot understand how it is that I got so lucky. *sigh*
Of course you are all waiting until we get to the register. That's when (you hope) the illusion will be shattered. Then total comes up, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Will he cry "Uncle!" or groan? Not an eyelash is batted as the transaction is complete.
I know, I know, it isn't fair. There is no way that I deserve a man who shops with me like this; I have done nothing to merit such favor. Eat your hearts out, though. Because I intend to keep this one. By the by, it isn't luck. It is the sheer grace of God and the power of a praying Mum.
When you travel, which mode of transportation do you prefer?
I actually am happy in the car(front seat). We tend to fly a lot, though, as time is usually a factor.
Have you ever met a blogging friend in person?
Nope, cannot say that I have. I have met in-person friends on blogs, though.
When was the last time you were really, really tired?
This week I am emotionally and mentally tired, but physically? That would probably be the last Habitat house I worked on. Sometime last year.
If you could have dinner with any one fictional character from a book or movie, who would it be?
This one really tripped me up, because I am having difficulty deciding on only one. I think it would have to be Henry Fleming from The Red Badge of Courage.
Fill in the blank: One day, I hope to see _______________.
One day, I hope to see Mt Fuji.
22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. (NIV)
From comment thread in a previous post:
I read something a little while ago that challenged believers on what they really believe. it kind of played into what Kelly has blogged about a while back (just turning EVERYTHING over to God) -- if you really believed with 100% of your heart, you would sell everything you have, give everything you make from this point going forward to the God that you believe in, and through faith he would provide and you would want for nothing more in this world because you would know that your eternal comfort awaits in heaven.I'll try to go through this piece by piece, but I am probably going to have to publish and republish. First of all, this is a package deal fallacy (I incorrectly characterized this as false dilemma earlier). If I believe with 100% of my heart I must sell everything I own? Give everything to God? Why does God want my measly salary? Does God not want me, His daughter, to eat? Have a place to live? Of course He does, and so He has provided a means by which I may earn money and eat and live. How would it honor Him if I turn my back on the gifts He has bestowed?
I know a good many godly people -- good, decent people that I love a great deal -- and not one of them has done that. Not one of them is even close. They do all the same things the rest of humanity does; accumulate material stuff, houses and cars, and work jobs in order to support their kids... (I think that describes every person I know on this earth).
I'm not judging them -- those who proclaim their faith appear to be much more grounded in it than I am in my own, and it serves many good purposes, but they aren't living every minute for God's glory.
It wouldn't, and to insist otherwise is sorely mistaken. It doesn't honor God or His creation to sit around waiting for manna to fall out of the sky. But you are right, about one thing-- wanting nothing in this world. The problem with this reasoning is that it neglects one important factor- I, like every other Christ follower I know, am a work in progress. Fortunately for me, I have an Advocate, someone who is strong in my weakness (that is awfully darn strong, let me tell ya!).
Giving everything to God is not about stuff. God doesn't want our stuff. He wants our baggage, our hearts, our minds. He wants our hurts, our triumphs, our sorrows, our joys. The stuff is a poor substitute. I do know my eternal comfort waits in Heaven, and it is in spite of who I am.
Bearing this in mind, I constantly pray for enough. But that is not about enough stuff; it is about my heart. I pray that my heart will be filled, that I find enough.
I, too, know a good many Godly people. They are my mentors, my family, my friends. Together, we strive to live out our faith. We are missionaries, and our mission field happens to be Las Vegas. We are not street preachers, and we don't live in a VW bus. We live in condos, in houses, and apartments. We go to movies, to street fairs, to concerts. We work in offices, in schools, in casinos. And we witness in our daily life-- we witness to God's amazing transforming power. And you know what else? We sometimes fall. But even in our failure, God doesn't. The Word will win out, because the Word is Truth.
There is something here upon which the commenter has landed which has great spiritual significance. Goodness. Good things are just that, good. But many times we let the good distract from what is Best. I don't kid myself that I am any more grounded than the next person. My size sevens are just as wobbly as any body's, but I know that each time I fall, I crawl to my knees and Christ lifts me back up to my feet. So I can live each moment to his Glory, because He shines so brightly through my weakness.
Holy Week has always drawn my heart. Even as a child, I was fascinated- first by the contrasts. I can remember asking my mother how people could change their minds so quickly. Palm Sunday's lauding crowds so quickly became an angry mob. How could this happen? How could these people not see? Mom's answer was that the road into Jerusalem simply had to lead to the Cross. It couldn't happen any other way, or we would have no hope."At the heart of the story stands the cross
of Christ where evil did
its worst and met its match."
~ John Wenham ~
I didn't fully comprehend for years- heck, I don't know that I do even now. Everything points to the Cross, and that colors everything I read in Scripture. I have a Messianic friend who insists that to understand the New Testament, I must read with a Jewish sensibility. I must respectfully disagree with this assertion-- while reading through Jewish eyes offers new insights, it is not vital. It is, however, vital to read the Old Testament in the shadow of the Cross.
These days I find myself captivated by the betrayal and crucifixion. How close Evil was to our Saviour, dining with Him, even kissing Him. And then, when all seemed lost...
Rather than Jewish eyes, I want Easter eyes. To see everything not in the darkness of Friday night, but in the glorious light of that Sunday. Everything points to the Cross and beyond to the empty tomb.
Jon and I have been married just over four years. I wouldn't have thought I could grow too much, but thinking about Christine's questions helped me realize that I don't really know that girl anymore.
I was not exactly a kid when we married, but I was far from prepared to share my life and all that entails. I can remember our pre-marital counselor telling us that we "just made the cut" for age and success rates or something like that. At the time, I was probably rolling my eyes (on the inside)- I was twenty-seven years old, after all! My mother married at twenty, and my younger brother was making snarky comments about Jon maybe being my only chance. As far as I was concerned, I was getting long in the tooth.
Yeah, the age thing-- not really convinced that helps much. We were statistically old enough, but no more "ready" than anyone else. The funniest part is that, no matter what my expectations were, they were way off base. Whatever I thought about marriage, it pales in comparison to the reality.
Twenty-seven year old Kelly had no idea what was in store. She had not yet known the fear of leaving behind everything she knew to follow her husband into his dream. 2002 Kelly had not experienced the lows of not getting out of bed for days, or wondered if they would ever get their heads above water. But neither had she known the reassurance of a hand squeezing hers and a voice telling her that she was far from alone.
Four years have brought so many changes. I am far from the wife I should be, but with God's help and Jon's, I am making progress. I listen more and better; I let go more easily (a hard hard lesson); I pray more intentionally.
Is marriage what I expected? No, it is ever so much more. If this is what God can accomplish in us in four short years, the next thirty or so will blow my mind.