Thursday, July 22, 2010

A Place to Call Home

Last week, when I posted a little piece about our preparations for and ensuing vacation, my cousin contacted me and mentioned recalling memories of his summers at the beach.  That triggered more of my childhood recollections as well, particularly those of seaside summer days, or revival week at a nearby camp meeting,  My upbringing entwined itself with church activities and was designed to be wholesome, if not disgustingly "vanilla" by today's standards.  That's OK, though.  Throughout my life, in times of darkest despair or stomach-churning confusion I had something to return to, some basis to draw me back to the One Who loved me and created me, even if I had gotten where I was by running from Him.

I have to admit, the emotion of the "altar call" drew me to give my life to Christ -- more than once.  I even developed a certain disdain for "Just As I Am," and the booming voice of fire and brimstone preachers lowered to just above a whisper as they beckoned, "Come, just come.  God is waiting for you right now."  I'd nod my head in Amen when other pastors preached against this "smoke and mirrors" technique that "confuses the real reason why we're here -- lifelong commitment -- with thirty minutes of regret."  Truth is, later in life, when I'd collapsed in exhaustion from all that running, or I'd gotten myself so lost I didn't know which way to turn, it was not some verse of Scripture that drew me back within the stone walls of God's fold.  It was the longing to return to those "easier days," riding home from the shore, late at night, sun burnt and sandy, lying across the deck in the back window of my parents LTD, listening to the seams of the road whirr-thump underneath us.  It was sweltering evenings at revival, sitting on rickety wooden chairs with my brother and I tucked between our parents and fanning ourselves with old "palm frond" fans from the local funeral home.  It was army blankets and picnics at Westinghouse during Dad's lunch break.  It was wearing out crayon after crayon over sheets of paper covering the rough concrete steps of my parents' front porch, when we'd run out of things to do, or couldn't find an inch of shade in the yard.  It was emotion, plain and simple.

Emotion drew me back to a time when I felt safe and loved and "home."  Emotion made me want that again, though reason may have reminded me "you can't go back."  Emotion drove me to finding the roots of that upbringing, roots that ran deeper than leaves on my family tree, leaves that blew to the far reaches of the country, or whithered and died.  Emotion that kept me searching for the Rock on which to build my life, and later my home.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Thanks a Lot (Eew)

In my Scripture reading this morning I was brought to 2 Peter 2:7.  As a Sunday School kid from way back, I can honestly say I never recall Lot being portrayed as a "righteous man."  In fact, I remember getting the impression Lot was a "screw-up;" the kind of guy poor Abraham was constantly having to bail out.  Lot gets to choose the land and, in his greed chooses land that will eventually "torment his soul" (2 Peter 2:8)..  Lot gets abducted, and Abraham rides to the rescue.  Lot and his family are influenced by the world and Abraham pleads with God for his nephew's safety.  Lot is preoccupied with his position and showing hospitality to guests, but demonstrates incredibly bad judgement in offering up his own daughters to an angry, depraved mob. 

I mean, really, doesn't this guy remind you of the family member that everyone tolerates strictly because they are family?  A Cousin Eddie kinda guy who always uses your name for a reference just before he defaults on that Rent-A-Center payment.  The guy who moves from one end of the country to the other, seeking some big windfall, always in need of a place to stay or some cash in his pocket.  In my neck of the woods, we call Lot a freeloader and Abraham and enabler.  God calls him righteous.  Obviously there is way more to this Lot guy than I've been told.  After all, isn't the story of Lot usually a cautionary tale?  I decided to do a little research.  Here's what I found:

What you see is what you get.  Yessir.  Lot was selfish, with a selfishness that cost him most of his family and from what we can assume, his wealth, when he was forced to leave it behind while fleeing the city.  Lot was immature and relied heavily on Abraham's wisdom and experience.  Lot straddled that fence enough that he could keep one foot planted firmly on each side; that is, until the fence gave way.  Lot may have even thought he was doing Sodom some sort of service -- keeping a Godly man within its borders and, perhaps, on its town council; maybe Lot thought he could save the city.  Well fine to preach outside the peep show, but if you wander inside, the only one that's gonna change his ways is you.  Thinking you can save anyone is pure arrogance.  And his offer of two virgin daughters to the dregs of the city?  Pure insanity when we read the words, but have we ever done something so low, so despicable just to save our own hide?

Lot was human, through and through.  Easy for me to sit and judge; easy for all of us to say, "Me?  Never."  But despite Lot's sin, God counted Him righteous.  Sound familiar?  Romans 4:5,6  tells us that works, just for the sake of works (in other words, not as an outpouring of our faith in God) are credited to us and not enough for the justification of sin.  But faith in the God who can remove sin "as far as the East is from the West?"  That is God's definition of righteousness.  Lot didn't succumb to the evils of Sodom; Lot did put his neck on the line for the "strangers."  When his own wife turned to a pillar of salt, Lot kept moving away from sin, resisting its pull on him.  Maybe Lot wasn't one of God's greatest spiritual leaders, but he had the right idea.  Believe God, and it will be counted as righteousness.   

Monday, July 19, 2010

Getting to the Root of the Problem

Several years ago I attended a church workshop on stewardship and money.  I was so inspired I developed a plan and worked it to the letter.  Despite a tight budget and financial problems, I found a sense of order and responsibility when it came to managing my money.  When Scott and I married, I realized just how difficult that can be, even with the best partner; occasionally we struggle to find synchronicity when it comes to purchases and investing.  I am a saver, not a risk-taker; I believe in an almost puritanical existence when it comes to spending.  Scott appreciates "the finer things in life," and believes we should enjoy the blessings God gives us; after all those of us who carry mortgages can not simply stop living for the next fifteen or thirty years.  Sometimes Scott's way makes me feel as if I am fiscally flailing; I long to get back that feeling of order and responsibility.  What I've found is that I have allowed money to control me.  Somewhere between between the single life and marriage I panicked.  Perhaps past experience, fear, maybe both motivated my choices and I went from controlling our money to being controlled by it.

Most of us are familiar with money as "the root of all evil."  You only have to watch the news to see what the love of money produces in our athletes, movie stars. musicians, politicians, lottery "winners" -- adultery, excess, disregard for the law and others.  Folks who were "raised right" or known for being "level-headed" and "down to earth" have had their lives turned upside down by money.  But what of "working class dogs" like us?  Well, don't go thinking we're relieved of the "curse" of money.

2 Peter 2:19 says "...a man is a slave to whatever has mastered him."  Whatever.  Drugs?  Rage?  Debt?  Yes, yes, and yes.  If I pay my bills every month, if I watch my budget and clip coupons, but obsess over every dime I spend beyond that which God commands me to control, money has become my master.  If I fear debt so badly, I rob my family of a happy, healthy wife and mother, I argue with my husband, I clutch at purse strings as it they were all that mattered, I am controlled by money just as if I were the worst of greedy corporate thieves.  The energy I put into worrying about how we will pay for something would best be put into prayer or Bible study or rejoicing for God's goodness. 

God is good -- all the time.  Sometimes we need to spring for some ice cream or treat the kids to a day at the zoo to remember that.