I’m a storyteller by nature. I love good acting, too. So it’s really tempting when I am experiencing a particularly spectacular trial to make much of it. I want others to hear every dramatic detail so they can fully appreciate what I am going through. The problem is I often end up making more of my circumstances than I do of my God. I am coming to the conclusion that I have a choice to make. I can play up the drama, rehearsing and reliving it over and over, or I can intentionally glorify God with my words. Here’s the latest example: I’ve been having a pretty interesting (yes, Continue Reading
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Why Jesus isn’t called the Good Cowboy
Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd, not the Chief Cowboy. He likens us to sheep, not cows. This came to mind when I asked God to help me become aware of my temptations. Turns out, one is the temptation to use people. Ouch. I’d be onto it if the devil whispered in my ear, Hey, go steal that woman’s purse, or Go get rip-roaring drunk. Not the kind of bait I would take. But, using others? Hmm. It can happen subtly. I may have a legitimate need – let’s say, I don’t have the energy to mow the lawn, but I want it mowed – so I start campaigning to the male members of my household about Continue Reading
Why You Need a Savior, not A Hero
There’s a scene in “Brave Heart” where the girl William Wallace loves is captured by the English. She is trussed up on a pole, breathing hard, eyes scanning the horizon in the desperate hope that Wallace will show up to rescue her. But he is too late. A cruel sword slices her throat. The light goes out of her eyes. Sometimes I feel like that woman, anxiously scanning the horizon, waiting for Jesus to ride up on his white horse and rescue me from my troubles. Where is he? The way this life plays out sometimes, it can feel like God is too late. When we are hard pressed Continue Reading
How to Forage for Joy
“Be vewy, vewy quiet … we awe hunting mushwooms.” That's what Elmer Fudd might have said if he’d joined our fungi-foraging expedition this last spring. Actually, we weren’t very quiet. Picture nine people tromping through the woods, searching for a delicious species called morels. (You can only forage for these in the spring, as there is a poisonous variety called the false morel which grows in the fall.) We start up the hillside, spongy ground springing underfoot, twigs snapping, bushes brushing our jeans. There is so much texture on the forest floor it is difficult to see what is what. Continue Reading