It was dark. I grasped the floor, trying to find some unseen object. I couldn’t remember what I was looking for, but I knew it was on the floor, not far away.
If I could only pick it up!
“Where are you?” I cried, tears streaming down my face. Then I brushed up against something, the finger of God. I tried to grasp it but went in the wrong direction by mistake and lost my sense of where it was again.
But now my heart was beating with hope.
The tears stopped flowing, just a riverbed of dry tears streaming down my face, now.
“Where are you, God?” I called out. Hope filled my heart.
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Even for the most hardened of hearts, a brush with hope in an unopened present makes the soil of our hearts ready for the seed.
And what happens when we open the box and find nothing inside? We turn it over and examine it from another angle. Did we miss something? We take the box apart before finally setting it aside.
Disappointment.
Even for the happiest house with the most joyous children and (reasonably) healthy relationships, the best we can hope for on earth, this unrest arrives.
In the quiet, when the kids have disappeared upstairs to play, when the guests are quietly conversing, the emptiness arrives.
It appears as an ache, a heaviness that weighs us down a little. We mindlessly pick up the wrapping papers strewn around the room, our thoughts following us.
And then after we’ve had our fill of chocolate, and coffee, and cinnamon buns, and laughter, the sadness reawakens, the one that was slumbering within.
And so we pick up our sadness, gently. We scoop it up with our hands and lift our hands to God.
And this is our present, cherished as a pile of diamonds, that we offer our Father.
Come, come, child. Come away with me, He beckons our heart.
We follow Him, the tears not yet erupted from the geyser within as we smile at the others and follow Him to a lonely place.
And in that place, perhaps the quiet of a room downstairs, by ourselves, He holds us as we cry. He dances with us as we celebrate. He comforts us as we plead with Him for His kingdom to come over some area of brokenness in our lives or our loved one’s lives.
And when the tears have been shed, and the comfort received, we return to them, to the family and friends.
And our gift has been opened, the one we were waiting for, the one that fills our hearts.
The gift of Him.
Merry Christmas, He says to you.
Did you open your gift this Christmas?
Jesus, teach us to pour out our heart as a gift to You.
As you listen to this song, consider talking to Holy Spirit, like talking to a friend over coffee. What do you most long to ask Jesus?
Ask Him.
And wait in the quiet stillness for a bit.
And may Your life be touched by a glimmer of the divine, which is a gift that when opened, contains everything you’ve been longing for.
BEFORE YOU SLAM THIS POST CLOSED IN DISGUST… remember that I promised this post was based on peer-reviewed philosophy, which will be clarified in a moment.
These are my examples (admittedly not perfect) of four principles to becoming happy that have been recognized by philosophy!
The 4 Levels of Happiness, undiluted by my own examples and as proposed by Aristotle and later by modern philosophers, are the following:
Happiness Level 1- Happiness found in simple material pleasures. For example, eating a crisp apple while standing right next to the tree we picked it from.
Happiness Level 2 – Happiness found in delayed satisfaction. For example, setting aside other priorities to do the work of training for a race, and the happiness found in completing or wining the race.
Happiness Level 3 – Happiness found in serving others. For example the unexpected joy we feel when we help those less fortunate than us.
(Now, we better not talk about Happiness Level 4 because in order to be sophisticated moderns, we should never talk about spiritual needs. Here goes anyway.) Happiness Level 4 – Happiness found in the pursuit of, or an experience of God. Don’t shoot me! I’m just a messenger!
So now, if we compare my examples to the unfiltered levels of happiness proposed by real philosophers, you can see where I’m coming from.
Happiness Level 1 – Eating chocolate is obviously the ultimate fulfillment of material pleasures. (I’m sure you can think of others).
Happiness Level 2 – Now that I review the Levels of Happiness more thoroughly, I can see that the object of Happiness Level 2 is not entirely ego domination. But I was on the right track in the sense of receiving happiness from completing a race or something. Close enough.
Happiness Level 3 – To expound on my example of Happiness Level 3, put food in the food hamper VERY slowly so people notice. In my case, I tend to do it quickly and run away because I am putting in items that have almost expired. But in your case, if the food hasn’t expired, relish in the fact that you’re helping someone else! Let them exalt you! Wait -As I’m refreshing myself on the general principle of Happiness Level 3, I can see now that the point is actually serving people not having others SEE you serve people. Whatever. I guess we learn new things all the time, even as we’re writing blog posts!
Happiness Level 4 – The last level of happiness, of course, is found in hanging out with losers. I was right about that one. As mentioned here, people who call themselves Christians are losers! (People who don’t call themselves Christians are also losers, but they are too spiritually blind to see that at the moment.)
And of course, by seeking God I’m not talking about swallowing everything thrown at you at church hook, line, and sinker. (Yes, I realize these are mixed metaphors, but who has time to edit their writing these days?)
Ahem . . .
So don’t leave your brain at the door when you walk into a church. Rebuke them sometimes. That’s what you’re there for.
But we also pray that the scales will fall off your eyes and ears so that you can see and hear the real God who is speaking even though he is surrounded by so many weird-os that sometimes it’s hard to get in close enough to get his autograph or to touch the hem of his cloak, or whatever you’re hoping will fill your bucket of need as you draw closer to God.
He will turn everything in your life upside down if you get close enough to touch him. That is his way.
For example, God even talks about happiness coming from suffering.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation.
Joy from problems seems a little crazy if you think about it.
Don’t think about it too much.
Just hold His hand and the hands of the other losers who love being near Him, and may you rise a little higher up the Levels of Happiness (maybe even to a Level 3 or Level 4?) this season.
Someone (who?) once said that a picture is worth 1,000 words. But what do they know? We think the funny things we say to each other are worth thousands of words.
So here you go. Funny things our family said last year in the categories of love, homeschooling, confidence, random thoughts, and flatulence.
On Love
Andy to me: “You look pretty.”
Me: Thinking, “After 22 years of marriage I don’t get that compliment every day!”
“Why” I ask him aloud, thinking, “Is it my hair? I just went swimming. My new exercise outfit?”
Me . . . persistent . . . “Why?”
Andy: “I think it’s because you told me to lie down and rest instead of help clean up after supper.”
Me: (!) (!!) (!!!)
Andy to me: “If we didn’t have a dog, where would you put all your affection?
Would you hug and squeeze us to death?”
Me… “Whaaa???”
– 5 minutes later –
Me: “I squeeze you. I squeeze you.” Kiss, kiss to Siri, our dog. Then wait! I remember…
Kyah: “Good morning! I missed you all night long!”
On Homeschooling
Usual unusual homeschooling moments
There was a homeschooling event a two-hours drive away.
Kyah called her friend’s mom: “Hi. Can you please drive me to the homeschooling event because my mom doesn’t want to because it’s too far and she doesn’t feel like it. So is it OK if you drive me instead?”
First-world homeschooling problem.
Esther: “Ah! I’m going to be late for class!”
– A few seconds later –
Esther: “Ah! I forgot to re-curl my hair after our walk! I’m going to be very late for class!!!”
Kyah, one Wednesday morning after math class: “Hi Mom! I decided what two new languages I want to learn, besides Spanish!” (Braille and sign language)
On Confidence
Andy to me: “You’ll be awesome!”
“Wait, is that snot on your face?”
Me: “How was church today?”
Andy: “I had a big hunk of peanut butter on my face from breakfast the whole time I was at church today. I went and spoke at the front and everything!”
Me: “Oh bummer! How did you know that?”
Andy: “Kyah told me in the car on the way home from church.”
Esther after doing hours of scholarship applications: “I never thought I would get tired of thinking about how amazing I am. I never want to talk about how amazing I am ever again!”
Random Thoughts
The words in brackets below are what I imagine the owners of the store to say in response to the questions on their street signs.
(Toilets inside)
(Cold showers inside)
Flatulence
I wish I was mature enough to leave out the fart jokes, but alas . . .
Person to remain unnamed: “Watch out for my silent laugh.
It’s usually a sign that I’m going to fart.”
I was using the microphone function to draft a text. Andy said to one of the girls “Who farted? Was it you?”
Those exact words were transcribed into the text to my friend.
Finally, the big news, if you haven’t heard is that Esther grew up and moved out to attend University (We’re very proud of her!). We got both a super cute bunny to play with . . .
and a large houseplant to sit in her old homeschooling area to replace her.
(To find out how I’m actually adjusting to this life transition, check out this post, or this one, or this one).
It was like he pushed his boot through the book he wrote, the one I was reading, and kicked me in the rear. Ouch!
“What did you do that for?” I asked the book accusingly.
I had been sitting poolside, enjoying my martini as usual, when this incident occurred.
Let me explain. Ahem . . .
In the book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer he spoke of learning only recently about the extent and horror of modern-day slavery.
Yeah, I watched the movie Amazing Grace, recounting the true life story of John Newton, a slave ship owner turned religious covert, turned major influence on the abolitionist movement. I yawned, turning the page. I know about all that slavery stuff.
The next page mentioned enormous slave ships in Bangladesh and Vietnam right now. This was ringing a vague bell in the back of my mind somewhere. I sat up a little.
We all know something about modern day slavery but how curious had I allowed myself to become?
I had heard someone talk about this stuff. But when? And who? And the details?
It was a bit fuzzy.
I took another sip of my pina colada, did some research on my own, and then continued reading my book.
A few years years ago, I was shocked and deeply disturbed when I learned about the dark underbelly of globalization. I had no clue that a huge chunk of items in my home were made unjustly, if not with full on human trafficking and child labor.
I slammed the book shut angrily. “You know, I’d rather just not know!” I yelled at the book, closed at my feet. The others lounging at the pool looked at me curiously.
I continued the rest of the conversation in my own brain, which is a much saner way to get mad at someone who doesn’t know you exist.
“And what am I supposed to do anyway?” I yelled at him accusingly. “I live in Canada, thousands of miles away! Am I going to row my oar boat to Burma and tell all those scary guys with guns to let their thousands of enslaved people go, the ones that bring them piles of cash every day?”
No.
So I readjust myself in my lounge chair again and pour myself a Bloody Mary. Time for a more mindless book. Time to relax. Maybe I should spend time browsing Amazon for cute shoes to get my mind off things.
But when I had emptied that drink and purchased a pile of cute heels in various shades of pink, I picked up the book “The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry” again.
I’m Type A, and if I don’t get a checkmark beside “read X book,” then my self-esteem may plummet to who knows where.
I refilled my drink with a more potent brew, black coffee this time, and sat up a bit, ready to defend myself against an unexpected blow of the author’s hand smashing through the book.
. . . I realized a different outfit every day was kind of ridiculous. I was also made aware of the injustice of the fashion industry, which made buying new clothes a total pain in the neck. So I cut it in half and went down to three outfits per season… I love each outfit. They were . . . ethically made and environmentally sourced and for the first time I can ever remember, I have extra money in my clothing budget . . .
Another bell was ringing somewhere. I, too, love to buy items that I know are ethically produced.
I almost only buy jewellery at 10,000 Villages or stores with a similar ethic. And check out the stuff I bought recently!* Beads are made from recycled Saris and support women artisans in India.
My favorite clothing store, besides Value Village, is Blue Sky, a fair-trade company.
But I also buy other stuff.
After reading about John Mark Comer’s choices, I felt like wearing a Blue Sky outfit the next day. Blue Sky from head to toe.
And I felt better about myself, more whole, more aligned to the values that God envelopes me with when He pours out His love on me.
I felt more like a bar of Christmas chocolate (because who doesn’t sometimes compare themselves to chocolate?) that is SOLID chocolate all the way through.
Biting into the kind of Christmas chocolate that is only a chocolate shell, that is hollow, is not quite as satisfying.
Maybe I want to buy people more SOLID chocolate bars this Christmas, more often, the kind that has the same taste all the way from beginning to end.
This feels symbolic of something important, something that makes me like myself even more.
Blogpost Footnotes
*I’m wearing clothes from Blue Sky in this photo. (Yes! I know you don’t care but I always wanted to be the kind of person who had to put a footnote telling others what kind of clothes I’m wearing in photos so I can feel important. Don’t shatter my illusions of grandeur!)
I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state.
The mother placed the baby in my arms and spoke of WHEN I took her home, enveloped her in our family. This baby was the gift that came no less miraculously than a child that emerges, astonishingly from one’s own womb. Except she traversed from God, through another’s womb, through the arms of another mother, into my arms.
And like a child ripped from her mother’s arms, she was taken from my arms and placed in another home.
We were pleased that the child would be taken care of, her needs met, thrive in a loving home.
And yet the pain in our hearts was only partially placated.
Every human soul carries its own pain within.
A loved one passes, an illness, a broken relationship, broken dreams, general ennui, desperation, hopelessness, despair. . . The waves of trouble that break over the human soul break us too, as our souls hit the rocks, making us bleed from the trials that have arrived on our doorstep, unbidden.
We open the door to today and the tidal wave of disappointment has arrived. We are left sitting on the floor alone in our world, unable to stand.
As we look around for a hand to help us up, something to hold onto, it seems hope is a long way away sometimes.
Can you see it?
I couldn’t either.
And then Christmas knocks on our door with the request to give to the needy, to distract ourselves with shallow merrymaking, to make ourselves sick with food that is sweet in the mouth and cancerous to the bones.
“Is this all there is?” we ask, our Santa hats adorning our heads in an effort to embrace the spirit of the season, our TV remote flipping from channel to channel, waxed chocolate at the fingertips.
Numb, again.
Another Christmas season has arrived, and we are numb.
That Christmas, the one when I could hardly breathe, I took off the old.
I crossed off the list of people that we were “supposed” to buy presents for. No more presents for friends, friend’s kids, extended family, parents, grandparents, my spouse. “And no presents for me,” I announced. We bought a few small gifts for a few children. And joy returned.
I crossed off the list the duty to make the Christmas treats I made every year, unthinkingly. I tried a few simple treats with a healthier spin. And joy returned.
I left the box of Christmas decorations in the basement unopened. When I finally gazed inside, I pulled out a few items that were handmade by friends or had sparked a particular delight, or a cherished memory. And joy returned.
I said no to every party, to the ones we were expected to attend that were too loud, had too much drinking, and too much shallow joy. We had a couple of quiet celebrations with a handful of friends or family, and good food. And joy returned.
No more expectations. The old has gone.
And the new life emerging?
And like the caterpillar that makes time for the quiet of the chrysalis, we too made time for the quiet.
– Time for Christmas church services, as we sought to awaken our senses to the awe of the season through the life of the babe in a manger
– Time for a hug or a smile or an understanding look, more, more often from those around me
I spent time every evening that season with our little toddler at the outdoor skating rink. The one that is free.
When we fell, we would laugh and then sit quietly together for a moment noticing how the lights rimmed the rink, peering through the darkness. I could almost discern the light of the season through those lights.
And like the lights shining in the darkness, at the skating rink that is free, His free gift of love burst through my heart a little more often in the quiet mornings, in the moments of quiet at the worship services, in the quiet smiles of those whose lives I stumbled across.
And each smile was like gazing into another’s soul because I took the extra moment to see them, to know that they too, being human, have heart wounds. Can my smile, my love, be a drop of healing ointment to them, as theirs is to me?
And it was the best Christmas of my life.
As the song plays, consider asking God: How can any anticipated pain of this Christmas season be transformed into joy?
I was looking around for something. It was dark. I grasped the floor trying to find some unseen object. I couldn’t remember what I was looking for, but I knew it was on the floor, not far away. If I could only pick it up! I was crying. “Where are you?” I wondered.
Then I brushed up against something, the finger of God. I tried to grasp it but went in the wrong direction by mistake and lost my sense of where it was again. But now my heart was beating with hope. The tears stopped flowing, just a riverbed of dry tears streaming down my face, now.
“Where are you, God?” I called out. Hope filled my heart. He was just here. I spent the rest of the morning on my hands and knees, groping at the floor, seeking the hand of Jesus. I know He’s close!
It is God’s privilege to conceal things and the king’s privilege to discover them.
Sunrise came and I hadn’t touched the hand of God again, yet hope buoyed my heart.
I had enough strength for the day, enough love to pour out on my children, enough forgiveness for the ones whose lives bumped against mine, their prickles and mine poking each other. Joy, tantalizingly close, but not grasped and put into my heart, lifted my spirits.
The hints of the divine are left for us, like the odd jewel on a stone path, covered in dust and scratched up, half hiding in the path, from the boots of so many who have trampled it. Will we notice it, wonder at the gleam of . . . is that a tinge of purple? Will we pick it up, polish it off, put it in our pocket to wonder at later?
If we do, the weight and purity of this jewel will begin to eat away at our pockets, at every impure thing it touches. It demands to be held up and admired. If we fail to do this, it burns away at the fabric of our pockets and drops back to the ground, awaiting the next traveller.
Do we give the divine the attention and the focus it demands? Or have we lost yet another opportunity, the hint of holiness falling back to earth – gone from our hearts?
“I think I found a jewel once,” we tell each other, but that seems so long ago, another lifetime ago. We inspect our pockets and they are singed where the jewel was, where we think we put it. Could it be?
“No. It must be a coincidence,” we think.
We will wait for another clue.
So we travel the dusty path of life, stepping on jewel after dusty jewel. Our hearts have grown harder and so our eyes have lost the spark of wonder that makes them truly able to see that which is not there, yet. The potential of a hidden jewel, on the ground, trampled, is not what we are looking for anymore. We have become blind.
And it is Christmas that awakens our hearts a little if we let it.
Christmas is the alarm clock in our hearts that rings and . . . will we answer the call, or press snooze, again?
Will we get out of bed, warm feet on cold floor, groggily seeking a coffee, and God?
Will we hope once more, that in the dark, early mornings of this advent season, as we cry out to God, the one we have forgotten, tears streaming our faces, we can find a glimmer of hope that we WILL see the shadow across His face, the brush of His finger, emanating so much love from His pinky finger that our entire hearts are strengthened for a week?
Will we find a glimmer of light, like a light switched on and then off again so that we wonder if there was even a light? Will this light give an unction to our souls to seek again, to get up early again, to look closely at the jewels in life that we almost trampled again?
Will we find the path that leads us to the heart of God, this season?
May your heart be soft friend, so that the seed of God will find a healthy place to grow. And may the tree that grows from within your heart produce fruit that nourishes your deepest longings, the ones you forgot you even had, so often had you pushed them back down to the depths of the soul, under distraction.
One of these days I’m going to write a book about how to have copious financial resources. The key premise:
To accumulate more money, simply buy less stuff!
Lori Lawe, TM*
I’m writing this blog post series about healthy weight, however, but a similar key premise applies:
If we want to stop carrying around all that extra jiggly stuff in the middle, at some point, we may have to talk about eating a bit less food.
Lori Lawe, TM*
Today’s blog post is about ENJOYING eating less.
I’m the kind of person that likes to have fun. So if we have to do something that’s not fun, let’s trick ourselves into thinking that we are having fun! So, as you are learning these helpful tips and habits, try to keep in the back of your mind the key lesson which is: Eating air is way more fun than eating tempting and delicious food!
Today we will learn to trick ourselves that we:
1. Are eating dessert when we are not, 2. Love God more than we love padding our belly fat, and 3. Are stuffing ourselves when we’re not eating anything at all.
No dessert anyone? Back when I remembered I was writing a series of posts about healthy habits, I wrote that one of the habits was to have camomile tea just before bed. This is a great tip I picked up on the internet that actually helped me! I guess there IS useful information out there somewhere! You put quite a bit of extra honey in your camomile tea after supper. Then you tell yourself “This is dessert!” You’re having extra honey so it is a bit of a treat. Then you drink your tea with the relish of eating an entire cheesecake, and wait until Sunday for real dessert. You can do it!
God or more belly fat? The next habit is kind of cool and it’s a way to develop the habit of fasting and seeking God, without having to do any work (Oh wait, did I say that out loud?) As you know, and I’ve discussed here, I found fasting for spiritual purposes, for even more than – oh – 10 minutes, to be a little challenging. So this is a compromise. I just try to delay my breakfast. We all have to start somewhere! Use that time of being a bit hungry to push yourself into God, to ask Him why you’re such a spaz most of the time, to pour out your heart, and you’ll realize that breakfast kind of loses its allure. Your deeper needs are emerging. And so, this habit has become one of my favorite habits, if I’m honest. Plus your body thanks you. There’s a lot of good research about intermittent fasting. And the way I’ve structured these habits, where you kind of trick yourself into thinking you’re eating dessert when you’re not after supper (so you’re not eating), and you just delay your breakfast for a bit turns into a temporary fast. But don’t tell your body that because your mind might not like it, and it’s all about keeping your mind happy, right? Even if you are deceiving your mind a bit. Who’s counting?
Top secret tip for tricking yourself into thinking you are eating copious amounts of food when you’re not eating anything at all. Don’t tell anyone I said this, or at least don’t link back to this site if you do. (I won’t admit I ever said this), but here’s an AMAZING tip. Shh…. Top secret. . . Lean your head over the food dish of choice, when no one is looking, of course. Close your eyes, inhale, enjoy the smells, and pretend you’re chewing. Say, “Yum!” A second plate without any calories, anyone? (Was anyone looking when I said that? Whew! No one heard!) Remember you didn’t hear it from me! Enjoy!
Whoever can figure out how to market the promise: How to enjoy whatever foods you want, whenever you want them, and not gain any weight, and then link to Point 3 above will be a millionaire! Cut me 10% of your profits, please! (I still won’t admit I had anything to do with you, however.)
Hey maybe you want to ghostwrite my financial book discussed in the first paragraph, come to think of it!
We could call it, “How to ENJOY Getting Rich And Thin!”
I’m going to start this post by quickly summarizing three points from a previous post.
I’m doing this because this post isn’t quite long enough, so I’m repeating myself so that my posts are all about the same length, so I look like a professional blogger.
But I’m not supposed to tell you that because that is boring, but other stuff I say is boring too, and you still read that! (Perfect. This post is exactly the right length).
Ahem . . .
In a previous post, I gave three reasons to indicate we may be eating spiritual cotton candy when we thought we were at the spiritual feast. These three indicators are:
1. We’ve been to a church once and were decidedly underwhelmed.
2. We know a Christian but that person, Ned Flanders, is difficult to be around for long.
3. We’ve figured out church is for losers. Need I say more?
So where do we go to have the best shot at finding healthy spiritual food?
1. Ask where Holy Spirit is moving in your city. After they faint because you asked that question (C’mon! Shocking people is fun!) bring some popcorn and check out that church next week. Listen for God while you’re there.
2. Find a “real” Christian. The way to tell if someone is a “real” Christian? There is no way to tell for sure.
Christian behaviour can be put on like a mask… Spectators… will often break into applause. But there is no applause in heaven.…
When you meet someone who is wholeheartedly following Jesus, you’ll know. Sorry. That’s all I got. Keep looking. They’re out there. And when you find them, take them out to lunch. And ask them questions. Don’t throw out your lunch before you’ve even eaten it. Food is waiting for you, too.
3. Hang out with losers. Just because some Christians are losers, doesn’t mean they aren’t God’s children. But the same is true for you actually. When you stop sucking in your gut, stop pretending you’ve got your life together, you are on the right, narrow, spiritual path.
4. Wake up! Now that you know you’re a starving loser, I hope you turn your attention to Holy Spirit right now. He’s here beside you right now. He’s been tapping your shoulder your entire life but you may not have noticed yet.
“Hungry?” he’s asking. “Come to the feast, child,” he offers, holding out an outstretched arm. Will you take one small step down the road toward tasting the only food that truly satisfies . . .?
If so, try feasting on this. If you don’t have spiritual teeth yet to enjoy chewing this food, don’t fret, but try drinking this milk instead.
But don’t ask for milk the way my daughter did here. That’s just rude.
God, help us to follow the scent of fresh bread and other delicious foods to find the feast. May we not go hungry for You again this season, we pray.
Of course, who doesn’t LOVE to tuck into that holiday feast and eat so much we can barely move? We sit on the couch, our stomachs in pain, contentment bringing a smile to our faces.
In a previous post, I proved definitively that you LOVE to eat green food AND you LOVE to be nourished with healthy spiritual food.
But we actually eat popsicles, cotton candy, and fast food burgers more often than we should.
Similarly, we’ve tasted the equivalent of spiritual cotton candy and we sometimes assume that we’ve attended a spiritual feast
“That food gives me a stomachache, heartburn, and nausea,” you conclude after a trip to church in Grade 5. “That food doesn’t nourish me”
And you’re right. It doesn’t. The problem is many of you never tasted, proper, nourishing, spiritual food. The kind you eat with relish and that leaves you on the couch in pain but with a delighted smile of contentment.
Proof you may have been eating spiritual cotton candy when you thought you were at the full feast include the following:
You’ve been to church. Most churches are empty shells. They are the plates that the food comes in. You have your fork and knife and you’re ready to eat but no food is there. They forgot to invite God to the party. They forgot to invite God to church every Sunday. So just because you’ve been to church doesn’t NECESSARILY mean you’ve been to a spiritual feast and tasted the food.
You know a Christian. Your neighbour down the street, Ned Flanders (Me!), your coworker, your distant or near relative, your friend, or whoever, who calls themselves a Christian may or may not be a Christian. Sorry for the shock. When I was at Bible college, a mentor suggested that out of those who call themselves Christians, possibly only 2% are true Christians, learning to abide with Holy Spirit. So just because you know a Christian, doesn’t mean you’ve enjoyed the main course of a spiritual feast NECESSARILY.
You’ve noticed Church is for losers. Yep. That’s true. In a previous post, I describe how you shouldn’t let the losers be a barrier to you reaching God. (The truth is that you’re a loser too, but you may be too spiritually blind to realize that yet. It’s OK! They have to love you!) That’s actually the coolest part about Church! You’re accepted exactly as you are, a loser among losers.
You’re welcome!
Good luck!
You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.
Restoring Life 