“I get the front seat!” I’ll bet I’ve heard that battle cry over a million times. It’s usually followed by someone else shouting, “Nuh uh, first one there gets it!” That sounds the charge. I watch incredulously (you’d think I’d have gotten used to it after a million-plus times) as a herd of determined, wild-eyed kids dash for the coveted passenger seat of the car. Stampede! I’m usually trying to shout warnings toward the herd to stop running and watch for cars as they dart through traffic and leap over potholes. My shouts are pretty futile. The kids never hear them. Every word is tuned out and entirely too late anyway. They don’t hear because they’re focused on the goal: shotgun.
The kids never seem to completely grasp certain laws of thermal dynamics. They don’t slow down. I watch and wince as they’re plastering each other against the car door. It’s a five-kid pile-up.
There’s usually a questionable finish on the passenger seat race. It’s a photo finish with no photo. You’d think it would be easy enough to find the winner. After the other kids are peeled off, it should be the kid who’s smashed the flattest against the door. Flattest kid wins. But after some loud and animated squabbling from the pancake kids, I often end up driving home with the front seat all to myself. It’s one of those Solomon-type motherly moments: “If you’re going to run like crazy people through a busy parking lot, and if you’re going to argue over it, then I’m going to have to cut the passenger seat in two…I mean…then you’re all in the back seat.”
For the duration of the ride, there are all kinds of death whispers coming from the back. “You know I was first.” “You never said ‘go.’” “Why were you trying to stomp on my shoelaces?” It’s amazing how the race can be long over, but the battle still rages on.
This life is like a battle—a much bigger battle. Ephesians 6:12-13 says, “For our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the world powers of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavens. 13 This is why you must take up the full armor of God, so that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having prepared everything, to take your stand.” (HCSB)
Making a stand in this life is not about getting the best seat in the car. It’s fighting the “good” fight. Paul said in 2 Timothy 4:7, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (NIV) The “good” fight is never over the petty things we come up with in our own flesh. And it’s not a battle we fight in our own strength, but one we fight in his strength, with the armor he provides (take a look at the battle gear in Ephesians 6:14-17).
In 2 Timothy 4:7, The Message describes the good fight as “the only race worth running.” The whole passage reminds us to keep our eyes focused on Jesus and his coming. It has a purifying effect on our lives and keeps us fit, ready to run toward the worthy goals. Our focus should be as clear as a passenger-side door to a herd of wildly sprinting kids.
Let’s never tune out the instruction to fight the good fight. Let’s not wait until it’s too late either. And let’s see if we can raise our kids with the passenger seat still in one piece.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Wall-to-wall Obedience
I've been trying to eat healthier. As part of the new regimen, I tried a protein shake for breakfast. Have you ever tasted liquid carpet? Surely liquid carpet has to be better than this stuff. It coated every molar in a weird wall-to-wall sort of way. For the longest time I felt like I needed to shave my tongue. Surely something is wrong with that stuff. Sticking to a healthier diet doesn't necessarily have to come with a hairy tongue, does it?
Sticking to the life of obedience doesn't have to be hairy either. We need to seek to draw our nourishment not from every trendy new place, but straight from Christ himself. Colossians 2:6-7 says, "And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to live in obedience to him. Let your roots grow down into him and draw up nourishment from him, so you will grow in faith, strong and vigorous in the truth you were taught." (NLT)
Drawing nourishment from Christ is nothing like drinking carpet. There's real refreshment in that deeper life. There's growth there. There's faith there. There's spiritual vigor and vitality--all without the Astroturf aftertaste!
So live in obedience with your roots firmly planted in Jesus. There's divine health in his truth. That's the kind of spiritual diet we need to stick to if we want to stay healthy.
On the physical health side, if you decide to try sticking to one of those protein shake diets, watch out for rug-burn.
Sticking to the life of obedience doesn't have to be hairy either. We need to seek to draw our nourishment not from every trendy new place, but straight from Christ himself. Colossians 2:6-7 says, "And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to live in obedience to him. Let your roots grow down into him and draw up nourishment from him, so you will grow in faith, strong and vigorous in the truth you were taught." (NLT)
Drawing nourishment from Christ is nothing like drinking carpet. There's real refreshment in that deeper life. There's growth there. There's faith there. There's spiritual vigor and vitality--all without the Astroturf aftertaste!
So live in obedience with your roots firmly planted in Jesus. There's divine health in his truth. That's the kind of spiritual diet we need to stick to if we want to stay healthy.
On the physical health side, if you decide to try sticking to one of those protein shake diets, watch out for rug-burn.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
The Lotion Quotient
My husband is convinced that lotion is scented slime imported from the place of the dead. I have no doubt he would sooner wallow in lard than use one of my creams. As a matter of fact, he says he can’t understand how anyone can put that stuff on a clean body without feeling all dirty again.
He even goes so far as to make one of those pained-looking faces after I’ve driven his car post-lotion. He says it makes his steering wheel gooey. Picture him trying to drive using only a thumb and forefinger from each hand. Such a commotion over a little lotion!
Me? I love the stuff. To me, it’s sort of medicinal and therapeutic all at the same time. I guess I’m a lotion lover because I’m one of those rather dry women (skin, not wit). If you’re like me and can rub your hands together and make sparks, you know what I mean. When I put on a lotion potion, my hands make that “glub, glub, glub” sound.
I consider myself creamed to perfection when I’m so greasy that my fingers keep sliding right off my computer keyboard. If you’re ever reading something I’ve written and you get to “dk7n>le#i4ig*20;slhc&mo$b,” you don’t need to worry. It’s most likely a little lotion slip and you can picture me smiling.
If I were Balm Queen, no one would ever be lotion-poor. Lotion for all! After I made sure no one was deprived of their lotions, I would go out and swim in my own personal pool of lotion. Of course, I’d never be able to get out. Just try climbing up a pool ladder when you’ve been swimming in lotion. That’s okay. I’d be satisfied to soak in my lotion ocean.
Just as lotion satisfies a dry woman, a thirsty soul can be satisfied by seeking the God who hydrates us at the very center of who we are. Psalm 63:1-3 says, “God, You are my God; I eagerly seek You. I thirst for You; my body faints for You in a land that is dry, desolate, and without water. So I gaze on You in the sanctuary to see Your strength and Your glory. My lips will glorify You because Your faithful love is better than life.” (HCSB)
He is the God who quenches. When we seek him and desire him in this dry place, he satisfies oh so much more than the best lotions and creams. He fills our every real need by his strength and for his glory. And it’s all out of his faithful love for us. Better than lotion. Better than life!
I love sharing the message of the satisfied life with others. I love passing it on to my children. They’re receiving the message better than they are my lotion notions. I thought they would love it, for instance, when I bought the tissues with lotion added right in. I asked one of my sons how he liked them. He said to direct all other such questions to his attorney. There’s a lot of his father in that boy.
He even goes so far as to make one of those pained-looking faces after I’ve driven his car post-lotion. He says it makes his steering wheel gooey. Picture him trying to drive using only a thumb and forefinger from each hand. Such a commotion over a little lotion!
Me? I love the stuff. To me, it’s sort of medicinal and therapeutic all at the same time. I guess I’m a lotion lover because I’m one of those rather dry women (skin, not wit). If you’re like me and can rub your hands together and make sparks, you know what I mean. When I put on a lotion potion, my hands make that “glub, glub, glub” sound.
I consider myself creamed to perfection when I’m so greasy that my fingers keep sliding right off my computer keyboard. If you’re ever reading something I’ve written and you get to “dk7n>le#i4ig*20;slhc&mo$b,” you don’t need to worry. It’s most likely a little lotion slip and you can picture me smiling.
If I were Balm Queen, no one would ever be lotion-poor. Lotion for all! After I made sure no one was deprived of their lotions, I would go out and swim in my own personal pool of lotion. Of course, I’d never be able to get out. Just try climbing up a pool ladder when you’ve been swimming in lotion. That’s okay. I’d be satisfied to soak in my lotion ocean.
Just as lotion satisfies a dry woman, a thirsty soul can be satisfied by seeking the God who hydrates us at the very center of who we are. Psalm 63:1-3 says, “God, You are my God; I eagerly seek You. I thirst for You; my body faints for You in a land that is dry, desolate, and without water. So I gaze on You in the sanctuary to see Your strength and Your glory. My lips will glorify You because Your faithful love is better than life.” (HCSB)
He is the God who quenches. When we seek him and desire him in this dry place, he satisfies oh so much more than the best lotions and creams. He fills our every real need by his strength and for his glory. And it’s all out of his faithful love for us. Better than lotion. Better than life!
I love sharing the message of the satisfied life with others. I love passing it on to my children. They’re receiving the message better than they are my lotion notions. I thought they would love it, for instance, when I bought the tissues with lotion added right in. I asked one of my sons how he liked them. He said to direct all other such questions to his attorney. There’s a lot of his father in that boy.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
New Puppy on a Roll
Big adventure at the Rhea house this week. We just took in a spaniel-mix puppy. You can’t pick up a tennis ball or stuffed animal in here that doesn’t make a slobber-log squishy sound. The entire upstairs smells a little like puppy breath. Every square inch has been sufficiently sniffed, then thoroughly chewed and slobber-covered.
It’s an adjustment for all of us, granted, but the biggest adjustment is on the part of the two cats who haven’t entirely unpuffed since the pup lumbered through the front door. I think I actually saw the spaniel grin when she tried to greet the kitties. I didn’t have a puppy language interpreter, but she seemed to me to be saying, “Hey, those look really chewy! I wonder how far that fat one can roll.” Fortunately for the chewy cats, the puppy seems to think the stairs are some sort of magic portal and won’t even go near them.
So the downstairs has officially been claimed by the cats and they’re setting up a little kitty kingdom. You have to go through Cat Customs and prove you’re not even remotely canine to even go down there. They’re checking I.D.’s.
Speaking of I.D.’s, when we’ve given our lives to Christ, we become part of his kingdom. Not kitty related. Our identity is in him. No need for a magic portal. We have Jesus! No big dog fear either—no need to fear anything at all. The God of the universe is on our side. His kingdom is the most glorious place to be.
I could write about it all day. As a matter of fact, I would write more, but I just heard a weird sound. Does it make a weird noise when a fat cat rolls?
It’s an adjustment for all of us, granted, but the biggest adjustment is on the part of the two cats who haven’t entirely unpuffed since the pup lumbered through the front door. I think I actually saw the spaniel grin when she tried to greet the kitties. I didn’t have a puppy language interpreter, but she seemed to me to be saying, “Hey, those look really chewy! I wonder how far that fat one can roll.” Fortunately for the chewy cats, the puppy seems to think the stairs are some sort of magic portal and won’t even go near them.
So the downstairs has officially been claimed by the cats and they’re setting up a little kitty kingdom. You have to go through Cat Customs and prove you’re not even remotely canine to even go down there. They’re checking I.D.’s.
Speaking of I.D.’s, when we’ve given our lives to Christ, we become part of his kingdom. Not kitty related. Our identity is in him. No need for a magic portal. We have Jesus! No big dog fear either—no need to fear anything at all. The God of the universe is on our side. His kingdom is the most glorious place to be.
I could write about it all day. As a matter of fact, I would write more, but I just heard a weird sound. Does it make a weird noise when a fat cat rolls?
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