A couple of years ago, I realized that I did not love God.

I remember having a conversation with my husband, during which I told him so. “I love Jesus. He seems knowable, like a friend. But God? I…well, I fear God. I “love” Him in an academic way, but I do not seem to be able to feel love for Him.”

And I, in all of my years of experience as a Christian, knew that love was not really based upon a feeling. Love is based upon many things – on knowing, and in accepting, on fact, on knowledge, on action. And all of those things are important. But I wondered why I did not love God. I should love God, shouldn’t I?

I continued to struggle for the better part of a year.  How could Jesus seem so close, and God seem so far?  How should I really view God?

Should I view Him as loving?  That kind of turned my stomach a little bit ill.  God as “loving” seemed weak.  It seemed to be a view for liberals and for navel-gazers.

I read Scripture, and it was very easy for me to see and “hear” the judgement side of God.  I have always thought in terms of apocalyptic imagery.  I’m pretty sure that if I had been asked to author a portion of the Bible, I would have been a Jeremiah type.  Melancholic, introspective, brooding at times….I had no problem picturing God in his righteous full glory, smoke rising as he vanquished all of His foes.

If you grew up with me, you would understand.  Love was not freely given, love was very conditional – based upon the length of your skirt, the length of your hair, the grade on your report card, and how hard you worked.  I remember when I was an adult, and I took my little children home for a visit.  One child was acting naughty, but in his misbehavior he was still reaching his arms up and crying to be held.  My father said to him, by way of correction, “No.  We will not love you when you are being bad.  When you are a good boy, we will love you.”

Even then, even when I myself was still performance based by degrees, I knew that this was not right.  I would not let my own child think this was truth.  I bent over and picked up my naughty boy, and said to him, “Oh honey.  That’s not true.  I will love you no matter what.  But please, for me….Mommy does want you to be good.”  (I also knew that my child was exhausted from a long trip, needed sleep, but was in a foreign place with grandparents he did not really know but was expected to obey.  To expect sublime goodness and perfection was very unkind to a child especially under those circumstances.)

I would not allow this type of thinking for my child, but I was still very much mired in that hopeless muck.  I was heart-bound, willingly, to a God that I did not really love.  I would never leave Him, that was not within me, but oh, I see now that I greatly misunderstood Him.

God kept reaching for me.  He already had me, you know, from my earliest days – but can you believe that He was not satisfied with simply keeping me in his corral?  He didn’t only want my allegiance, He didn’t only want my love… He wanted me to know Him, to begin to see Him in His fullness, in full-dimension.  He began to break through my understanding, rather like static on a radio station which breaks up the regular programming.  I’d hear something that would seem to indicate the depth of His love.  I’d consider it, carefully turning it over like a river-pebble in my mind.  Then I’d say, “Nah.  That’s not what He’s like.  That’s weak,” and I’d toss the concept back into the water.

But He did not give up.  To His credit, He never full-fledged smacked me across the head with the truth of His divine nature (like I might have done if I were in charge.)  He was more subtle and gentle and patient than that.  He kept bringing glimpses of His goodness before me – through people I met or through books I read (and usually rejected at first.)

As long as I have memories, I will never forget the day His love broke through.  I was driving the twenty minutes or so to town on a routine trip to the store.  I had the kids in the back of my van.  They were jabbering with each other, not really talking to me.  I was talking to the Lord, asking Him what He thought about various things in this world, and….all of a sudden, I felt Him smile!

I am not generally charismatic, not given to super-natural experiences.  I commune with Jesus as I go about my day, talk to Him as I would a friend, ask for His help, etc., but I had not ever felt God’s pleasure *with me*, with women in general, in such a real way.

I do not recall if the day was sunny or not, but it felt like the most brilliant sunrise I have ever beheld.  It was not only a sunrise, but it was full to the brim with joy and pleasure and warmth.  This smile from God, this joy, was not because I had done anything at all.  It was just a glimpse of how God views those who walk with Him – with extreme pleasure, with holy pride – just like I felt about my own children, only magnified.   There were tears in my eyes, on such an ordinary day on a regular trip to town.  No build up, no psychological derangement, no grandiose visions on my part.  He was just there, and He was smiling.

And that is how my wall fell down.  That is how God revealed Himself to me.  Over the next few days and weeks I began to see how incompletely I had seen Him.  I realized that I could not possibly be a better parent than God – but my thought patterns seemed to imply just that.  I lived so deeply in fear, that it colored everything within my vision.  It affected the way I read Scripture.  As I began to read the Bible with my new eyes, I couldn’t believe all of the verses I had skipped right over – the ones regarding God’s mercy and His unfailing love.  The book of Hosea came to life before me, as I realized the message God was trying to communicate.  He really IS that good.  He really does love us that much.  He does not love us because we are such good and obedient people.  He has loved us, even when we have run away and even when we have pushed aside His work to redeem us, and even when we have been “naughty.”  He does not withold His love un

til we are “good,” until we have earned the right to be loved.

It is important to catch a glimpse of just how deep His love is.  We can’t do that if we misunderstand Him, and only see Him through the partial realm of judgement.  Until we realize His love for us, we are not allowing Him to be our model for daily life.  We can not love others properly without understanding His love.  God’s perfect love, and God’s perfect unity (or Oneness) was what motivated Him to create in the first place.  It is what has motivated Him through the centuries, from the beginning of human history up until now.  It is His love that gives us hope for each day and hope for days to come.  God’s perfect love casts out fear.  I know this, now.

And for you?  Do you love God?  Do you long to?

Have you ever felt His pleasure with you – not based upon what you’ve done but simply based upon His thoughts of you?

It is my hope that you are able to.

God has such a great smile.  I want you to experience it too.

Today I am a bit more melancholy – still rejoicing in the gift of this little boy – but just thinking things through.

Today I set Sam in a deep bath of bubbles, and we scrubbed off the sticky residue of the surgical tape.  He sat in my lap and I dried him in a large towel.  I slipped his baby blue sweater over his head, and he cried out as the yarn brushed against the staples in the back of his head.

How did this child fly through the air, land on the back of his head, amidst sharp rocks that gouged a hole in his flesh, and not suffer brain swelling, or paralysis, or worse?

Our oldest son, Jake, lost his boss earlier this year when the good man fell a short distance from a ladder and hit his head.  Instant loss, instant grief, instant death.

Most of you know someone who has died in this manner, or have heard of people who have died when 4-wheelers flip.

I’m good friends, in real life, with many of you who have stopped by to read.  I’ve walked with so many of you through the trials in your lives.  For some of you, Jeff preached your baby’s funeral, or your husband’s, or your grown child’s.  There are two dear friends who may be reading here, and I know that they remember with me, for there was a certain time I was hosting a baby shower for one while the other mother’s baby was in the hospital losing his struggle for life.

I have another precious friend, who may or may not read this.  Another friend (who reads here) and I picked her up from the hospital the night her husband died – baby twins in arms and 4 year old walking alongside.  We walked together through that grief for years, speaking almost every day – trying to fill the horrible aching void but knowing that in reality there was no way.  Finally, after 10 years, she remarried a man who had also lost his wife.  A man with 2 sons.  They had six months together before one of the sons, a little boy with Down Syndrome, died suddenly the day after Christmas.  I know that it was difficult to see God’s hand throughout those days.

Some of you parent chronically ill children.  You watch them suffer day after day, and it is breaks your heart.

Days, years, times of sorrow, of furrows of soil, of picking out headstones and of wondering where God was at in all of this.

I thought I had lost my own little Mariam the day she was due to be born.  I raced to the hospital, fairly sure that I would be saying goodbye to my baby girl.  It did not turn out that way, she gloriously lived, but I remember that drive and the conversation that took place between God and myself that day.

I’ve always been a pastor’s kid, always been a pastor’s wife – up until two years ago.  I’ve seen grief up close all of my life – I know the risks, recognize the realities.   I’ve held my 15 year old’s bloody face in my arms this year – known the brutalization that tears a mother’s heart as she keeps a bit of that child’s pain forever in her heart.  To be a mother seems to place us in a vulnerable position of loving so much, of opening ourselves up to the possibility of loss and pain.

During this last drive to be with Sammy, I thought about all of these things.  I thought of all of the possibilities, knew they could be a reality.  I knew that I could very easily be coming home to a house with one less rambunctious boy, knew that if so our hearts would be forever broken – just like so many of yours have been over these years.

I am so grateful to the Lord that He spared Samuel.  We are all so aware that it could have been a different story.  This story did not end as it did because we are better people, or because we’ve attained some level of holiness – we are neither of those things.  Those of you who know us in real life know that is not the case.  Sometimes we are full of ourselves, sometimes we are cruddy parents, sometimes we have to apologize because we’ve been out of line.  That’s what happens when you live with people – they see all of your faults and imperfections.    You guys have seen ours over the years, and yet, so many of you have been faithful friends.

What am I trying to say to you here?  Just that within ourselves, on a human plane, we cannot and do not always understand God.  Why does He allow some things to happen?  Why does He sometimes apparently intervene and other times not?   I’ve wrestled with this so many times over the years, and I would guess that you have too.  We can be tempted to let our comprehension of God devolve into a picture of a Deity who created, but who then took His hands off.  I’ve let that thought pass through my brain, but I’ve never been able to let it stick around.  I’ve known God, like I’ve known you, my friends.  We communicate.  He leads me, He guides me, He calls me to follow Him when I try to go the other way.

And that’s what I felt in the car as I raced to meet Sam.  I felt God’s presence, as real as if any of you had been beside me.  I felt Him ask me to trust Him, no matter the outcome.  I think that I sensed a very real thing about God, a thing that is true and can be counted on regarding His character.  If we love Him, and know Him, and believe in Him, He is with us through the dark journeys.  Even when, especially when, we don’t think that He is – HE IS THERE.  His very character will not let Him leave us.  Our emotional selves may not feel that He is there, but that doesn’t change a thing.  He IS there, He walks with us and carries us – far more than we even realize.

Would you, my human friend, leave me when I need you the most?

Never!  We’ve had opportunity to see this play out in our lives over the years, haven’t we?

If we, being human, have these bonds, how much more so will God honor and maintain His bonds with humanity?  So much more.   I have let you down at some point, have dropped the ball, have misunderstood, have even sinned and not been there to meet your needs when you have needed me.  Even with out best intentions, there are times that we miss the mark between friends.   But God does not do that.   He covenants with us, as the stronger partner in an agreement, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

That’s it.  That’s all I wanted to communicate with you today.  I know that many of you are going through your own struggles today.  You need to know that God is with you every step of the way.  We mourn together, we rejoice together.  He’s here with us, in every aspect of life.

So thank you, thank you for rejoicing with us over the life of our Sam.  Judging by the way he just ran past me, giggling, he is going to be just fine.

My little guy Sammy was hurt badly in an accident yesterday (Friday.)  He is okay, but he is in the hospital.  I spent the night with him and then Jeff met me this morning and took my place so I could come home and be with our littlest ones and grab a shower and some clean clothes.  I just wanted to quickly let you know how things are.

What happened is this:  We were at my parent’s farm, an hour and a half away from our town.  It is a very isolated place, deep in a national forest and in the middle of hills and hollows.  We were gathered there with most of my extended family to celebrate my father’s birthday.

My brother always brings his four-wheelers up for the kids to ride on.  We are very strict, OF COURSE, and require helmets and responsible driving.  The big kids had just finished up their riding.  The parked the machines at the top of a huge hill.  The engines were off, the brakes were set.  There were 4 adult men and several almost grown teens standing around.  The children were completely supervised.

Sammy jumped on one of the 4-wheelers.  He was just going to sit on it.  The kids said, “Sammy, get off of that machine!”  They didn’t really think it was dangerous, as it was parked and not running.  They just didn’t want him playing on the 4-wheeler.  Sammy got off of that particular one, but turned and jumped up on the other one.  He was just being silly – obeying in one sense, but not obeying in another.

The brake was either jarred loose, or it wasn’t set firmly.  We do not know.  But the machine started rolling down the very steep incline.  The big guys ran after it, but could not catch it.  Sammy was too scared to jump off.  It rolled all the way down the hill and into the pasture, and then dropped off into a 5 or 6 foot ravine.  Sammy was thrown off, landing on the jagged rocks at the bottom.  The 4-wheeler flipped upside down – but I don’t believe that it fell on him.

I did not see this happen.  I was in the cabin making supper and watching Mariam.  I heard Jeff yell my name – stepped outside of the door, and saw that he had a limp Samuel in his arms.  He was panic-stricken.  Nick, our 15 year old, had reached Sammy first and had immediately picked him up.  (He did not realize that he should have left him lying still.)  Since he was already moved, though, and since we were in the middle of nowhere, Jeff decided in a split-second that we would take him to the nearest little community hospital.   I grabbed my purse and shouted to my family to TAKE CARE OF MY KIDS!

Sammy was conscious – but not really moving much and just talking a little bit.  I sat in the backseat and held him.  The roads are gravel and very twisty and bumpy.  I tried to shield him as much as possible, and Jeff tried to drive safely but quickly.  I prayed over Sammy, and told him that Jesus was with him.  I told him to be strong, and hang on.  We did not have any idea as to his condition, but he had a huge, deep, two and a half inch crescent shaped gash on his cheek.  It was spilling out muscle.  I knew that he had a wound on the back of his head, but I could not force myself to look for a long time.  When I finally did, I cried out, “Oh, dear God.  His head.”  It was a deep puncture wound.  I could not tell what I was seeing.  It looked like something was spilling out of the wound.  He was bleeding a lot.

We pulled into the hospital – no bigger than most houses – and raced into the emergency room.  We didn’t even shut our car doors.

We were met by 4 ER workers and a doctor, and I have to tell you that they were the most compassionate people.  Two men, three women – some young, some middle-aged – and they were so, so, so sweet and kind to him.

They assessed him, and the doctor said immediately, “We have to life-flight him to the nearest big hospital.”  They started an i.v., which made Sam weep, even though he had been very brave up til now.  They put him in a neck brace and strapped him to a board.

The helicopter was not big enough for either of us to go with him.  This nearly broke our hearts.  Our little boy has never even spent the night away from us – and we could not go with him?  That was so hard for us to do – knowing that he would have to face many frightening experiences without us there.  We decided that Jeff would stay with him at the little hospital until he was placed on the helicopter, and I would head out immediately toward the big hospital, so that he would not have to be without us for a horribly long time.   Once he was on the helicopter Jeff would go back to my parent’s farm, to make sure our other children were alright and then to bring some of them on to our house for the night.

I set out on my THREE HOUR DRIVE.  I kept watching the sky as I drove, watching for the helicopter holding my little Sam.   My cell phone was dead, but it wouldn’t work in this isolated place, anyway.  It was a very long three hours.

At some points, fear began to take over.  I started to react in fear.  I said to the Lord, “Don’t you DARE take my son!  Don’t you DARE!”  I was immediately aware of the wrongness of what I was saying.

Had I NOT felt His presence throughout?  Yes, I had.  Even though deeply, deeply concerned and grieving over my child’s wounds, I knew that He was with us, and would be with us.

I said to God, “Oh, I am so sorry, my Friend.  Why am I treating you like this?  You ARE my friend, you are closer than anyone else.  Please, Friend, be with my Sammy boy.  Please take care of him.  I trust you now, just like I have grown to trust you in all other situations.”

I was tempted to guilt, to beat myself up…what kind of a creep am I to talk to God like that, when He had been with us all along?  But that was futile, too.  How do good friends (and one of them the Ultimate Friend) treat each other when one has reacted fearfully?  They say, “Hey.  It’s okay.  I understand.”  And that is just how God and I operate – not as equals, never that, but most assuredly as friends.

And from there, we talked.  We had lots of time.  I had no interest in listening to Glenn Beck on talk radio.  That wouldn’t have helped at all.

He let me know that I needed to simply fall into this experience – let go and go with it.  So I did.  I dove into His presence, asking Him to carry it all, us all, and gave Him free reign to work through every aspect of everything that might happen.  I took away my expectations, or any finagling, and just asked Him to please work and to use the situation any way He wished.  Remember, that I had no idea as to Sam’s condition.

I drove and drove and drove, into the beginning of dusk.  I finally arrived at the city hospital, and virtually flung myself over the ER desk.  I told them that I was there for Sam.

The man at the desk said, “finally!  We’ve been waiting for you for forever!”  He led me back to the room where Sam was.  His wounds were already stitched up, and the nurses were a little cold to me.  They probably wondered where this kid’s mother had been for so long.  They softened up a little bit when I wrapped my arms tenderly around my little man and kissed away his hot and sweaty tears and choking sobs.   His head was encrusted with blood and it had trickled into his ears and was all over the sheets.  He was missing one little shoe, and they had stapled the gaping hole in the back of his head with thick, brutish staples.  They were taking him for a CT, and I trailed behind them, guiltily explaining that I had been on a three hour journey to be with my son – that I had not WANTED to leave him but was forced to.  Apparently, they forgave what they perceived to be my negligence and they began to share information about my son.

In the interest of time, I’ll end the play by play – but Sam was settled into a room in Pediatric Intensive Care.  We were surrounded by good health care professionals.  They were so kind to this little man who was covered with blood and mud and who had only hours earlier reeled in his first fish ever.

Sam is O.K.!!!  The CT scan revealed NOTHING!!!  Despite his deep wounds (The puncture wound on the back of his head was an INCH deep (!) but it did NOT show any skull damage!  Explain that!!!)  No coma, no internal trauma, no broken bones, no..nothing.  By 10 p.m. he was out of the cervical collar and felt good enough to laugh out loud over the silly antics on America’s funniest home videos.  He slept well ALL night long and was still sleeping when I left this morning.  (They checked his pupils every hour through the night.)  He’s just…excellent, except for the wounds that will need to heal.

I don’t know how God is working.  It is most likely in ways and people that I will never know.  That is absolutely fine with me.  All I know is that once again, through another trial in life, God was there with us.  He would have been with us every bit as much even if the opposite had happened and our worst fears were realized.  He let me know that during my drive.

I want you to know that we have been through many tests and trials over the last few years.  A huge move, unemployment for five months, a high-risk pregnancy (in which our little girl turned out fine!), adjustment to living near elderly parents…and other ways.  But He is WITH us, as a friend, as one who cares and who does not ever leave us to walk this life alone.   He is not only with us – we are not special in any way.  This is just WHO God is – it is the kind of relationship that He wants with everyone on this earth.  This is what sets Him apart from other gods….He is the God who cares, who does not ask you to measure up nor increase your status.  You can not please Him with ritual nor rigidity – anymore than you can truly love your husband or wife through these mechanisms.  He wants to enter in to our daily lives, to dwell with us, to let us run to Him throughout the joys and the sorrows.

I’m sorry this is so long.  I couldn’t stop once I started typing.    I’m off – to head back to the hospital.  Thanks for listening, my friends.

Holly

Hey kids.  As you grow older, we talk often about God.  Who He is, what He wants from us – different theologies and belief systems.  We talk a lot about the people (and their beliefs) that you come across online – Christian groups and Christian friends, mostly.  As you know, for you instigate most of them, we have huge and invigorating conversations about who does what, and why.

At the beginning, as you crossed the threshold from concrete to abstract thought, from childhood to adulthood, you wanted me to tie our own belief structure up in a nice and tidy package.

“What do we believe, as opposed to what “they” believe?”  You didn’t like cloudy, hard-to define corners.  I understand that – for that is where most of us stay for the majority of our lives.

And I am happy to give you the broad outlines, for on the core issues, we (your Dad and I – and you can always include him when I say “I,” for we are one heart, mind and flesh because of love) have solid structure:

I believe in God the Father Almighty,

maker of heaven and earth;

And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord:

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, dead, and buried;

the third day he rose from the dead;

he ascended into heaven,

and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty;

from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic church, the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting. Amen.

*the Apostle’s Creed, updated a little bit from the Book of Common Prayer, 1662, to reflect a little John Wesley flavor.  This is per our tradition.

But the older you get, and the more you study and learn, the less easy it is to define God.

See, as a mom of many children, I get to live in a dual-age place.  I am unfolding and uncovering God, revealed through Jesus – to your little brothers and sister.  We hop onto their bed at night, get cozy, then start to read from their Jesus Story-Book Bible. Their eyes widen, they get excited at what they hear, and they ask questions.  “Is the Holy Spirit little then, that He can fit inside of us?”  “Oh, NO!  He’s HUGE.  He’s bigger than you can imagine!  He’s more powerful than you can realize, but when you love God His Spirit lives inside of you and fills you up and  He is always with you, helping you.”

It’s easy.  It’s blessed.  It is such a delight to teach them the marvelous way that God loves them and calls them to follow Him.

But you, my older ones…it is still a blessing and a delight to continue to unfold God before you, but now, you are the ones doing the unpacking.  I stand beside you, pulling on the tape and the wrapping, turning the pages and pointing out; giving you more to read and understand as you grow – but this task is truly yours.  You must seek God.  He is yours, you are His.

Let me tell you how it feels to me to try to express God to you as you mature.  You know that I speak in word pictures, so try this one on for size:

I want to hand you that same tidy box that I gave you in childhood.  It really is a pleasant package – marvelous wrapping and a beautiful, creative bow.  It’s all you needed at that time.  It’s so succinct, and clear to understand.

But I can’t hand you that same package, now.   You would eventually call me on it.  Things aren’t always as clear as we want them to be.  At times faith is wild and doesn’t corner the curves.   It has a strong core, a center that you can depend upon.  But to me, this thing that I am trying to hand you looks like a glorified version of an artificial heart (though there is nothing artificial about it.)  It looks like an engine, with marvelous hoses and wires and tubes and gears and pulleys that explode in so many different directions.  It is complex.  It may seem difficult to understand.  But as you probe and tug and inspect, you are going to find that this – my not-so-great and meager representation of God and of faith – is more amazing than you could have ever imagined when you held that plain, well-defined package in your hands and thought you had God so perfectly explained.

I…know.  Faith is not containable.  It’s not so “wrap-able.”  But I’d rather you be spectacularly awe-filled with the wonder of your God than to cling to that little box for most of your life.  My fear of the small box is that one day, you would dare to rip the package open, and find that there was nothing inside.  And then, you might be devastated, and disbelieve all that you have been taught by me and other well meaning people.  You might lose God.  And to me, that would be much more horrible than keeping God in His beautiful, small container.

I’d rather hand you a larger, harder to understand version now, while you are with me, so that you can ask while you probe, “what is that?”  At times, I will say, “I don’t know.  What do you think?”  And the question will linger but you will be driven to understand.  I will not, I can not, tie it all up for you – but I can assure you that in time you will begin to see that each part does indeed have relationship, connectedness, and purpose.

You must be the one to seek God, you must seek faith, on your own.  It is not something that I can impute to you.  I can live it before you, in all of my vainglorious failings and imperfections, but you already know about those.  I can say, in spite of these and in spite of the things that I do not understand, that I trust Him.  The more I seek Him, the more I am given over to faith and to trust in a God who made all and who loves all.

He is worth the study, worth the exploration, worth the uncertainty, worth the beautiful glimmers and breakthroughs that come when you finally catch a glimpse of His glory and of the love He has for humanity which drove Him to implement a plan of rescue that is available to the world.   I’ll speak for myself, but eventually it all reconciles and circles back around to a simple, childlike faith that says, “I believe,” and, “He is good.”

So, kids, here it is.  This marvelous, breath-taking, uncontainable bundle that holds the key to your faith and your belief in God.  Go on.  Open it.  I’ll tug on the tape, pull back the tissue here and there, point out something that you might not have noticed, but it’s for you!  We’ll spend our life-times unwrapping, but we’ll never be bored.  And He…He’s patient and loving while you open, discover, taste and see.  Go on!  It’s yours!

Dad and I look forward to continuing the conversation over many years.  We’re here, standing at the side, cheering you on.

Love, Mom

I saw this quoted over at Study in Brown, and wanted to post it here, too. Tonia gleaned this from Ron Sider’s book, “Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger.”

“Christians, Wesley said, should give away all but “the plain necessaries of life” – that is, plain wholesome food, clean clothes, and enough to carry on one’s business. One should earn what one can, justly and honestly. Capital need not be given away. But Wesley wanted all income given to the poor after bare necessities are met. Unfortunately, Wesley discovered, not one person in five hundred in any “Christian city” obeys Jesus’ command ["Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth."] But that simply demonstrates that most professed believers are “living men but dead Christians.” “Any Christian who takes for himself anything more than the plain necessaries of life,” Wesley insisted, “lives in an open, habitual denial of the Lord.” He has “gained riches and hell-fire!”

This consideration of how to live, how much is enough, how much is too much – it is not a new consideration.  But it is on my heart and mind of late.  On the one hand, this gives my daily living contentment; for we surely have plenty to eat, clean clothes and a roof over our heads.  On the other hand, it stretches me to see the areas in which I have too much, and causes me to ask the Lord to help me see how and where I can give more.  Some times the giving is not monetary – sometimes the gift is love, acceptance, time, or talent.  I do not want to be a living woman, but a dead Christian.