by Bookworm Mama | Aug 8, 2019 | Throwback Thursdays
Original Post Published 1/24/13
For some reason that I can’t quite explain, 4-year-old Rowyn has decided that Heaven = Outer Space. There is no hesitation in his mind. When he talks about going to Outer Space, it’s to drop in on God and say, “Hello.” Preferably in a rocket. That, he says, is where he will go when he dies to live again forever.
Who am I, mere mortal that I am, to try to straighten it all out for him? LOL. The book of Daniel tells us about angels on a physical journey from Heaven to Earth, waylaid by demons so that they arrived seemingly “late” to answer the prayers of the faithful. For all I know, those demons were hiding behind an asteroid orbiting Jupiter. *shrugs*
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The Milky Way over the
West Virginia hills |
But it came up in my little brain in response to some wonderful conversations and books I was reading yesterday. The conversations joked about how the particular group involved is made of black sheep, it seems. Or at least, would be dubbed so by a prominent few. We like reality in our fiction. We believe that redemption is greatest when the sin was staggering–after all, who will love the forgiver more, he who is forgiven much or little? We believe in thinking, in living our life in this world even if we’re not of it, in refusing the neatly bottled answers that are often tossed around in Christian circles.
And yes, that leads some of us to rant and rail on occasion. Why, we ask, do our brothers and sisters in the Church judge us for following Him into the wilderness? Isn’t that where He went? Where He ordered us to go??
Then, in something I was reading by my good friend and WhiteFire author
Christine Lindsay, she quotes C. S. Lewis, and it resonated:
“
It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite Joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
You know what that hammered home to me? That we’re so very small. Sometimes, that makes us petty. Sometimes, that makes us close ourselves into a cozy little box. Sometimes it makes us judge–and I’m not talking just about the ones in the box judging those outside, I’m talking about the opposite too. We all want to be accepted for who we are–and when someone else is different, we feel that as judgment. Don’t we?
But what Lewis pinpointed so beautifully there is that God is bigger than that. God is a God of the biggest dreams, the grandest ideas. He’s a thinking man’s God and an infantile-minded man’s God. The God of the broken and of the fixer. He’s a God who says, “You want the world? Foolish mortal–I’m offering you heaven.”
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The Dirty Devil River
photo by Seth G. Cowdery |
Or as Rowyn would say, Outer Space. 😉 And that’s true too, isn’t it? He’s the God of the universe, of the infinite.
But how often do we forget that, as Pascal expounded on in a Pensee, the infinite goes both directions? The infinitely great, and the infinitely small. So often, we pick one direction and focus on that, because that’s where our interests lie.
I love–absolutely love–that I serve a God with no limits. A God who can touch hearts through the sweetest stories as well as through the grittiest. A God who doesn’t say we must change before we can enter His house, but who invites us in as we are and says, “I’ve been waiting for you. I have a job for you to do, and those quirks of yours will make you a perfect fit.”
I don’t know about you, but I serve one amazing, all-out, no-holds-barred God. He meets me in the grime, and He promises me the galaxies. He tells me that there’s nothing I can dream that’s too big…but that sometimes He wants to give me something even bigger than the corporeal, than the physical. He’s a God who says, “Go ahead. Reason. Ask questions. Explore the what-ifs. I’ll be there too.”
So for today, in all gratefulness, I say, “My God, who art in Outer Space, I set your name aside as holy. Establish your kingdom, and do your will, O Lord. Not just up in the stars…but right down here in the muck.”
by Bookworm Mama | Aug 1, 2019 | Throwback Thursdays
Original post published 11/1/12
“And above all things have fervent love for one another,
for “love will cover a multitude of sins.”
I Peter 4:8
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Whisperings of Love by
William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1889 |
I just read these words in my daily reading time and they struck quite a chord. Perhaps because I’d been pondering that exact thing just yesterday in regards to my kids.
Don’t you just love those things in life that have no clear “this way” or “that way”? That have, in fact, so many varying opinions on which way you should do a thing that you usually just shake your head and go with your gut? Raising kids is definitely one of those things. And in this society where all adult problems are blamed on whether mommy did this when you were little or dad did that…yeah, it can be stressful.
And I confess it. I yell more than I should. I get frustrated. My kids usually have to repeat something four times before I actually get up from my computer to help them with it (hence why they now just stand at my elbow going, “Mommy, I need a drink. Mommy. Mommy. Hey, Mommy, will you get me a drink please?” The magic word always gets my attention, LOL). There are things I wish I did differently, things I no doubt get wrong.
But you know what? At the end of the day, my kids are happy. They’re secure. They understand the values I’m trying to instill, and they know they can stretch their wings and grow in our house. At the end of the day, they know they’re loved. And that, I think, is the most important thing I can give them–because love covers a multitude of sins.
Which is true of any other relationship too, isn’t it? Which may be more profound–because it’s easy to love our kids. It’s easy to love our spouses, our siblings, our parents (sometimes, LOL–easy for me to, because I have awesome ones). But what about the acquaintances? The strangers? The people we don’t like? Our outright enemies?
Loving them isn’t always so easy. Not just when we really don’t like them, but even when we just barely know someone. It’s hard to be moved by a story you’ve never heard. Hard to pray for people you’ve never met. But sometimes that’s exactly what the Lord calls us to do. In this section of I Peter, he says we must be serious and watchful in our prayer. We must love one another, being generous and hospitable without homes, but most of all with our gifts. We must, always, minister.
A reminder I need. Though I know there are so many out there suffering, I might forget that. I might ignore it. I might whisper a prayer now and then but otherwise, go on with my life. The Lord, though, calls me to something more here. He calls me to pray, He calls me to give, He calls me to stretch myself out and share what gifts He has given me with others.
He calls me to love.
And if I do that, the rest will follow. If I do that, then the things I fail at will be covered.
I will never be the perfect daughter, sister, wife, or mother, the best teacher or writer or friend. I will never react as I should all the time. I will never always have the perfect response to life’s trials. But I will love. And that will be my covering.
by Bookworm Mama | Jul 25, 2019 | Throwback Thursdays
With a huge deadline around the corner…I thought it would be a good idea to pull out a few thoughts from the archives and do a Throwback Thursday theme this summer. Today’s post is all about Our Callings…
What’s your calling?
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Christus bei Maria und Martha
by Allessandro Allori, 1605
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A few simple words, but a whole world of meaning, isn’t it? To what has the Lord called you? It doesn’t have to be something grand. He could have called you to accounting. To farming. He could have called you to raising kids. Maybe He called you to clean your church once a week. It doesn’t have to some awesome-sounding ministry, but I feel strongly that we all have something the Lord has called us to.
Mine’s easy–I’ve known I was called to write pretty much all my life. So . . . then what? What do I do with that knowledge? Well, I write. In my case, I write books and I blog. But what kind of books? What kind of blogs?
My husband and I were talking about callings last night, and in the course of our discussion, it occurred to me that having a calling you recognize doesn’t mean you do it as you should. I could be writing books that are simple and easy. I could be churning out stories that fit what I was told years ago were marketable. I could be writing stories that make no attempt to glorify the Lord. I could be writing only what I want instead of what I should be.
In a few months, I’m going to doing a blog series that ties in with
Ring of Secrets on ordinary heroes. See, that was what set the Culper Ring apart–they were just everyday people serving where they had been called. In their store, on their farm, in the military. But they were serving there with a heart open to what the Lord might ask of them. And so these folks ended up taking risks that could have gotten them lynched–not by dropping everything and running off to some big task, but by serving where they’d been placed.
So how do we translate that to today? How do we, now, serve where we’ve been placed in a way that can make a difference? Not a rhetorical question here–it’s one I’m going to be thinking a lot about over the next few months.
And I want to start with gathering some answers to that first question. What’s your calling? In its most simple form, what has the Lord asked you to do? Please share!
by Roseanna White | Jan 19, 2017 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Throwback Thursdays
I’m sure I could find something original to write about today. But as I was thinking about what I’m thinking about (sure–that made sense), I realized that I’d already written about it. So I went and looked it up and reread it, and it still stands. 😉 So if you read this one a year and a half ago, my apologies. But maybe you missed it. Or need the reminder. Maybe someone else out is…
I am a mom–an imperfect one, but one who tries to show her kids what she can…and who is constantly amazed by these two precious little people who latch onto my waist and declare, “Mine! You’ll always be my mama!”
He is my Father–a perfect one, who shows me in so many ways what I can do through Him. Who constantly amazes me with the gifts, small and large, that He has given us. Who patiently whispers, “Mine. You’ll always be my daughter.”
I am a wife–one who messes up now and then, who says the wrong thing and forgets to make dinner. But one who still gets that little pitter-patter inside at the thought of seeing her husband after a short absence. Who dares to dream along with him of somedays and maybes.
He is the Bridegroom–the one who is always waiting for his Bride to remember her vows, to remain faithful, to reach for perfection. The one with arms outstretched in love for His church, for the world.
I am a bit of recluse–the kind who likes company, sure, but who gets lost in a crowd. Who sits at a party feeling awkward, even when it’s all family. Who can give a sermon or a speech no problem, but who often stumbles through the unscripted…until she has a keyboard under her fingers or a pen in her hand.
He is everywhere. Always. And yet He doesn’t force His way in. He stands outside the doors of our hearts and awaits our invitation. To come in. To sit with us. To give us the words we can’t find and the sense of belonging that sometimes evades us.
I am a homemaker–but not the kind who makes a beautiful, showcase home. I appreciate those, but they’re not for me. I would rather spend my spare dollars on dreams and goals and helping those who have less than on curtains or decorations. All I need, I have discovered, is enough–when I find myself with more, it’s meant to be used for a greater purpose than my own comfort.
He is the Creator–the one who made the world and all that’s in it. Who clothed the lilies of the field. Who made a home for every creature. The one who bids me, “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just follow Me today.”
Sometimes, when I’m tired or down or just overwhelmed, it’s easy to focus on all I’m not. But I’m not not. I am. I am all He made me, and all He made me to be that I haven’t yet realized. I’m flaws and strengths, weaknesses and determination.
I’m a shadow of Him–a mirror, I pray, of His light. I am His. And He is I AM.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.