. . . make lemonade!
But what I want to know is this: Why, oh WHY do we only have to get the answer from the optimist? (Don't answer that; it's a rhetorical question.) I mean, there are plenty of other kinds of people out there that could give us answers just as interesting and maybe even more pertinent to our lives. I will show you. Here is what I imagine other people would say for the punchline of this famous proverb (wince away!):
When you get a lemon . . .
(The actor) . . . be thankful it wasn't a rotten tomato.
(The optimistic pessimist--yes, I believe these do exist because sometimes I'm one!) . . . ferment it and see how much fun you can have making it disgusting.
(The masochist) . . . give yourself a paper cut and squeeze the lemon on it. (Of course!)
(The blonde) . . . see if the pawn broker will believe you when you tell him you've discovered limes made of real gold.
(The lawyer) . . . see if it has any money inside, then charge the person who sent it.
(The dentist) . . . put it in toothpaste so your patients will return often.
(The country singer) . . . write a song about it. You could call it "My Achy Breaky Lemon."
(The government) . . . collect enough to string around the earth and then pretend they're not there.
(Jack from the beanstalk fairytale) . . . watch out for tall people and scout about for the golden goose.
(The Israeli) . . . call the IDF--it could be a bomb.
(The Chinese) . . . slap a "Made in China" label on it and sell it cheap at Wal Mart.
(The mother-in-law) . . . swallow it when no one is looking.
(Jack Bauer) . . . try to look busy for 24 hours then shoot it.
(Taylor the Latte Boy) . . . transfer to a different Starbucks--fast.
(Thomas Edison) . . . plug it into the wall and people will say you're either mad or brilliant.
(Romeo) . . . make sure it's really a dead lemon before killing yourself.
(The whale) . . . swallow it--and keep it down.
(The shoplifter) . . . return it and ask for a refund.
(The relativist) . . . decide it's a peach so everything is all right.
(The Democrat) . . . blame it on the rich people.
(The practical) . . . save it for when someone has a stomach bug.
(The politically correct) . . . don't call it a lemon, you racist! You might hurt its feelings.
(The realist) . . . realize it's a lemon and don't pretend it's anything else.
(The evolutionist) . . . don't get too stressed wondering what kind of simple cell this creature came from.
(The socialist) . . . make sure everyone else gets one too.
(The Mercy) . . . tell it you're sorry for it.
(The Prophet) . . . tell it that it's yellow and sour.
(The Exhorter) . . . tell it that it could become lemonade.
(The Giver) . . . offer it sugar.
(The Teacher) . . . invent the perfect Minute Maid recipe.
(The Server) . . . I'll just go ahead and make the stupid lemonade!
The list could go on and on . . . I keep thinking of more. Anyone have any more ideas?
Friday, July 29, 2011
If I don't have love, I am nothing
1 Corinthians 13
This is such a famous, oft-quoted chapter that it's easy for me to glaze over its import. But no. I'm going to be volunteering at a teen camp next week, and unlike last year when I faced the total unknown, this year I enter the ring with faces, faces packaged with their own sets of beliefs, habits, attitudes, and (worst of all in my mind) coolness. Lovable faces. And unlovable faces. Am I going to look down, be aloof, act shy and distant? Or let go of my inhibitions and freely love, converse with, and embrace people with whom I have almost nothing in common? Am I going to minister with my superior Bible knowledge I got from Bible school? Or am I going to fully trust the Holy Spirit to guide while simply showing Christ's love? As 1 Corinthians 13 points out, I could have or do amazing things, but if I don't have love, "I am nothing."
Zero.
Zilch.
Nada.
And I know now this is true, especially for a counselor or camp worker.
And I shudder.
I shudder, because naturally speaking, I don't have what it takes. I'm horrified at how hard it is for my cold self to love certain kinds of people. And yet--and yet, we are never dealing in "naturally speaking" terms when Christ is in the picture. If Christ is in me, that means His love is in me too, and I'm praying and believing that His love will flood through me to people I come in contact with. It doesn't matter how I feel. It doesn't matter if I'm an oddball. What matters is Christ. What matters is my choice to love Him. What matters is our choice to love others.
I need Thee every hour, and I need Your love. But since You are Love, I'll be satisfied with just having You.
This is such a famous, oft-quoted chapter that it's easy for me to glaze over its import. But no. I'm going to be volunteering at a teen camp next week, and unlike last year when I faced the total unknown, this year I enter the ring with faces, faces packaged with their own sets of beliefs, habits, attitudes, and (worst of all in my mind) coolness. Lovable faces. And unlovable faces. Am I going to look down, be aloof, act shy and distant? Or let go of my inhibitions and freely love, converse with, and embrace people with whom I have almost nothing in common? Am I going to minister with my superior Bible knowledge I got from Bible school? Or am I going to fully trust the Holy Spirit to guide while simply showing Christ's love? As 1 Corinthians 13 points out, I could have or do amazing things, but if I don't have love, "I am nothing."
Zero.
Zilch.
Nada.
And I know now this is true, especially for a counselor or camp worker.
And I shudder.
I shudder, because naturally speaking, I don't have what it takes. I'm horrified at how hard it is for my cold self to love certain kinds of people. And yet--and yet, we are never dealing in "naturally speaking" terms when Christ is in the picture. If Christ is in me, that means His love is in me too, and I'm praying and believing that His love will flood through me to people I come in contact with. It doesn't matter how I feel. It doesn't matter if I'm an oddball. What matters is Christ. What matters is my choice to love Him. What matters is our choice to love others.
I need Thee every hour, and I need Your love. But since You are Love, I'll be satisfied with just having You.
Intertwined
1 Corinthians 6:13,17 "The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body . . . But he who is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with Him."
Wow, this is interesting. Our bodies were born with temptations, but that's not what they were designed for. Our bodies are meant for the Lord, and the Lord is meant for the body. Maybe this is why God originally seemed to have no intention for David or anybody to build Him a house. God was aspiring to something greater. Not greater as in bigger or more important, but greater as in something infinitely sweeter.
God, the Creator of the universe, wanted to dwell in the halls of our hearts.
He wanted to not just see what's in our hearts, but to be close to it.
He wanted to be a vital part of what's dearest to us.
And He wanted His Spirit flowing freely through us, not as helpless puppets but as servants gladly doing His will without having to really worry what His will is. God wants to be so closely intertwined with us that our spirits are one. I don't mean this heretically. I'm not trying to promote equality with God or flatter "the god within us." But I do believe that God wants to live within us, that He wants to be unfathomably close. And some of us are too scared to let Him in. Some of us (including me) are sometimes afraid to let Him have absolutely full sway.
I don't want to be one of those people
Wow, this is interesting. Our bodies were born with temptations, but that's not what they were designed for. Our bodies are meant for the Lord, and the Lord is meant for the body. Maybe this is why God originally seemed to have no intention for David or anybody to build Him a house. God was aspiring to something greater. Not greater as in bigger or more important, but greater as in something infinitely sweeter.
God, the Creator of the universe, wanted to dwell in the halls of our hearts.
He wanted to not just see what's in our hearts, but to be close to it.
He wanted to be a vital part of what's dearest to us.
And He wanted His Spirit flowing freely through us, not as helpless puppets but as servants gladly doing His will without having to really worry what His will is. God wants to be so closely intertwined with us that our spirits are one. I don't mean this heretically. I'm not trying to promote equality with God or flatter "the god within us." But I do believe that God wants to live within us, that He wants to be unfathomably close. And some of us are too scared to let Him in. Some of us (including me) are sometimes afraid to let Him have absolutely full sway.
I don't want to be one of those people
Saturday, July 02, 2011
You hold my right hand
It's amazing how every once in awhile I'm going along and suddenly I see myself in a very unfavorable mirror. Faults start bristling every which way out of my head and I'm shocked to see how unlovable I really can be. Although this sensation may leave one's emotions feeling fragile, it accomplishes one important thing: driving one back to God. And so, to God I went, and I stumbled upon this passage:
"When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward You. Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." ~Psalms 73:21-26
It clicked.
I may be an expert at opening my mouth and putting my foot in it, but God is still holding my hand. I may be irritable and weighted with pride, but that doesn't mean God is running to stay away from me. Grace would not be grace if it were deserved. And I'm reminded by a quote by Max Lucado (I think) in which he says, "God loves you just the way you are, but He refuses to leave you that way. He wants you to be just like Jesus."
He is everything.
And to salt it away, I pulled out my guitar. I'm really just a novice at this instrument since I've only been playing around with it since my daddy gave me one for my birthday in April, but I have fallen in love with it. I've dedicated my guitar to God and have named it "Reese," which means "zealous." As I played, I sang of God's amazing grace, I sang of my soul panting for God, I sang of the Holy Spirit, I sang of a walk with my Shepherd, I sang of the choice to not make God small because He is brighter than the sun and closer than the tiny thoughts I have of Him. And I sang of just one look into His face.
Listening to Truth-filled music is like listening to a refreshing love letter from God. Your heart responds, and you sense a sort of communion. But I believe that playing Truth-filled music is like having a purifying conversation with the only One who can make you pure. This communion is sweet indeed and is near the zenith of what one can experience on earth.
"When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward You. Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." ~Psalms 73:21-26
It clicked.
I may be an expert at opening my mouth and putting my foot in it, but God is still holding my hand. I may be irritable and weighted with pride, but that doesn't mean God is running to stay away from me. Grace would not be grace if it were deserved. And I'm reminded by a quote by Max Lucado (I think) in which he says, "God loves you just the way you are, but He refuses to leave you that way. He wants you to be just like Jesus."
He is everything.
And to salt it away, I pulled out my guitar. I'm really just a novice at this instrument since I've only been playing around with it since my daddy gave me one for my birthday in April, but I have fallen in love with it. I've dedicated my guitar to God and have named it "Reese," which means "zealous." As I played, I sang of God's amazing grace, I sang of my soul panting for God, I sang of the Holy Spirit, I sang of a walk with my Shepherd, I sang of the choice to not make God small because He is brighter than the sun and closer than the tiny thoughts I have of Him. And I sang of just one look into His face.
Listening to Truth-filled music is like listening to a refreshing love letter from God. Your heart responds, and you sense a sort of communion. But I believe that playing Truth-filled music is like having a purifying conversation with the only One who can make you pure. This communion is sweet indeed and is near the zenith of what one can experience on earth.
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