Blue Ridge Mountains

Blue Ridge Mountains
Showing posts with label God's love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God's love. Show all posts

Monday, August 22, 2011

God is Stomping On My Dreams

The world can be divided up into two types of people.  Those who are dreamers and those who like to snatch those dreams, throw them into the dirt and jump up and down on them in the name of pragmatism.  I guess you figured out which half I am. ;>) (And I married the other half...although the stomping on my dreams thing was a slight exaggeration).  To borrow a phrase from Asian philosophy, she is the Yin to my Yang.  The Laurel to My Hardy.  The gravy on my biscuits (Ok...that one was weird).  But in the grand scheme of life her ilk, the pragmatists, have it easy.  Here's why. (But first pause to enjoy this mildly related cartoon)
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Most pragmatists are even-keeled, steady Eddies who seem to take all that life throws at them in stride. They are typically content, even-tempered, and achieve many of their goals.  (and Yes...most of us dreamers wish we were more like them, but will never admit it).  As for us dreamers, disappointment and frustration are a constant companion.  Our life is ridden on the roller coaster ride of hope and despair where crushed and broken dreams are a fact of life.  Period. Because let's face it.  We live in a sinful world that has failed the hopeful since the Garden.  When the infant artistry of Creation became thorns, and thistles, and work.  When all was lost for several thousand years.  Am I painting a bleak picture?  Are you thinking to yourself, "What a miserable, glass-half-empty, cynic this guy is." If you are, you'd be right. (If you aren't then you must not be paying attention)  I have been called that more than once in my life.

Not that I don't have every reason to be cynical.  I have dreamed more dreams in my life only to see them fizzle, fade, or be utterly annihilated. And I'm not talking about self-serving, it's-all-about-me, show me the money, American Idol fantasies. No, I'm talking about things that I know God placed on my heart.  Psalm 37 states, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires [dreams] of your heart."  I chase after the Lord and He gives me dreams to follow.  And follow I do.  With passion and zeal and reckless abandon.  Then God snatches them away.  He breaks my heart.

When God commanded Abraham to slay his son Isaac, Abraham obeyed.  God gave him his dream, he was now taking it back.  But it doesn't say he was happy about it. I wonder how long Abraham held his son just to feel him in his arms alive one last time- the motion of his breaths, the feel of his dusty hair brushing on his father's sunburned face,  Isaac's arms clasped tightly around his fathers shoulders tighter and tighter as he begins to understand. I bet he wanted to hold him for days and days.  His only son.  I wonder what the raw, hideous emotion of that moment was like as Abraham was raising the sacrificial dagger to do what only the pagans did (sacrifice their sons to their gods). I can picture Isaac wailing, screaming, with tears and sweat soaking him and the stone altar he's on for fear of his life, terrorized as he watches his father about to plunge the knife into him. I see Abraham, sobbing uncontrollably, confused, and angry, and with nothing but the fear of God left to move him, he commits himself to God.  Of course we know how the story ends.    

If that is the ultimate test of my devotion to my Saviour, I predict more testing and dream crushing in my future.  But in my 23 years of walking (sometimes scraping along on my belly or dragging on my hindparts) with Jesus, I am learning more and more that the ultimate dream is what's on the other side of that torn curtain.  It is He Himself.  Am I yearning for my dream or dreaming of Him?  How often do I cling to the dream and take my gaze off the Dream Giver?  For me, a little less now (I hope) than 23 long years ago.  How about you?
 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

How Annoying Things Remind Me of God (Sorry, Lord )

Note regarding my last post.  Due to the apparent disinterest in Demotivational posters based on the fact that only 10% of you cared to read, I promise to never do that again unless at least 10 people beg me to...and I still might say "No."  I'll just post them on the timeout wall to torture my kids. 
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If you could look in the back of my '99 Nissan SUV (pushing 200,000 miles thank you very much) you would see an assortment of items ranging from a battered box of tissues, a child's car seat with no less than 6 months of cookie crumbs in the crease, gum wrappers (those that haven't been sucked out the window- I do feel bad for that), my Ipod (which is not the real Apple product, but a suitable knockoff) because I'd rather listen to it, then have to endure my CD's skipping to the beat of the potholes on Rt 288, sunglasses, of course, and a pile of receipts that I really don't know why I haven't thrown away.  And that's just the backseat.

In the very back is the good stuff.  Tools, chairs, (trash...but not much), a football, a box of shirts, a Frisbee, and baseball equipment.  And this leads us to the subject of my gripe. Bats. Not the little flying ones, the long ones made out of metal that hate me.  That roll around incessantly while I'm in stop-and-go traffic all the way home.  The ones that roll back and forth and back and forth and BACK AND FORTH, like a  clanking, crashing, wave, of screaming metal trying to make...me....lose...my...MIND!  Until I finally get home and throw them in the trash can.  Then take them out because my kids are crying (OK...I just made up that part, they're still [secured nicely] in the back of my SUV.)

OK, so how does this remind me of God?  How can this make me a better Christian? Because all the way home with every bang of the bat against my wheel well, for some odd reason, instead of getting angry, it made me think of how God, like those bats, is trying to get my attention, over and over, using any method at his disposal (and let's face it - He's Almighty God - He has a lot of methods), saying look at me, pay attention to me, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!!!  Until I finally get it. And realize that I was made to love Him back.  For some of us it takes God's clanking bats throughout our life to keep us from forgetting Him.  His insane, perfect, crazy, Jesus-died-on-the-cross-for-me, love. The love that would go to bat for you (sorry I know that was lame), that promised to never leave you, or abandon you, or betray you, or gossip about you, or call you stupid, or lie to you...I just hope God doesn't have to hit me with that bat.  That would really hurt.