Broken

Have you ever heard the saying, “God has no grandchildren”? This means that, as God’s children, we are never fully grown in the flesh, and just like children we are born with our own unique personalities, our own strengths and weaknesses. We come into this world hardwired with certain propensities, drives and desires. Who are we to question how the Great Creator designed us, with so many quirks? Like newborns, all of what we come loaded with can be channeled and directed to take a good path or a bad one, bear fruit or wither on the vine.

Though I am mature now, both physically and spiritually, I remain who and what I always was but, by grace, I was given a refined moral compass that keeps me on the narrow path. I discovered quite by accident several years ago that I am an INTJ personality type, which is one of sixteen combinations that most people fall into. Reading in Wikipedia the description for INTJ was like reviewing a report about me. It explained all those years of my being more comfortable as an observer than a participant, a creative sort who preferred to be behind the scenes, a puppeteer who could hide behind the puppets. It explained why I have Mr. Spock logic which can often be interpreted as being cool and lacking in compassion. In truth, underneath my aloof stoic appearance is a preprogramed fail safe coping skill. Because I can grieve too deeply, even into disfunction, early on I set a standard not to expect too much lest I be disappointed. I can’t change that. And, it turns out, I don’t have to. My Father knows how I am, and loves me anyway, just as I know how each of my three children and seven grandchildren are and I love them.

That said, it explains why God, once He called me to step up to His purpose, allowed me to understand that while I am still who I was when I drew my first breath, the sum total of experiences, good and bad, choices, good and bad, exist to serve Him now because I gave it all to Him. I am gloriously imperfect and will be until I exhale my last breath, but God uses me anyway in the ways He chooses. Once I stopped worrying and wondering if I was a new being, in, by and through Christ, as they say, I realized that all I had to do was stop looking inward and put my focus outward toward Him, that is when I stopped thinking about me and my shortcomings, whether or not I measured up and started listening, obeying and trusting that He was more than adequate enough to use me for His purpose, in spite of all my warts. 

Further I now understand, that He can use anyone, with or without his/her consent, but His heart is warmed by willing participants. Do you not have a soft spot for the child who strives to obey and please you?

Consider John 21:18-22 

(21:18) Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.  (21:19) Now this he spake, signifying by what manner of death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, Follow me.  (21:20) Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following; who also leaned back on his breast at the supper, and said, Lord, who is he that betrayeth thee?  (21:21) Peter therefore seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do?  (21:22) Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what [is that] to thee? Follow thou me.  

Follow thou me. He doesn’t require us to compare ourselves to anyone else. How could He? He made us all so unique, not perfect, just unique. This Scripture also reveals that He has individual standards for each of His children. Humans don’t get this because they want ‘fairness” like little children who cry out, “not fair!” Or like Peter who wanted to know why John was so special.

Once we figure out that God establishes what is fair, not us, God establishes what is good and bad, right and wrong, not us, we discover that we have individual parameters that He sets for us that may or may not apply to anyone else. Conversely, we can have some latitude that others might not. This is called a personal relationship with Christ. Personal, meaning one on one, based on our own uniqueness and level of surrender to Him. I know what He expects from me just as I know what He allows. I also know when I am being chastised for stepping outside of the lines He drew for me. The key is being always ready to submit self, be humbled and repent. And then move on, forgiven. This is the definition of working out sanctification. It’s a learning curve that never ends until we expire. Every experience that leads us to humility gains us new spiritual awareness, which is something different from head knowledge.

For me the ultimate test question to be answered was: if I knew I was never going to be worthy and could never be worth dwelling with Him forever, would I turn away? Is my focus on me and my reward or on HIm and His need? 

The correct answer is: the day one can say, “I would and will serve Him even if He rejects me because He is worthy to be served”, is the day one can know for sure one is right with God. 

For Him, 

Meema

Hypocrisy and Other Illusions

Bows and flows of angel hair

And ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere

I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun

They rain and snow on everyone

So many things I would have done

But clouds got in my way

I’ve tried to understand. Truly I have. And for that cause I have given my best shot at momentarily setting aside long held biases, attitudes and point of view. In a grand egalitarian effort I have factored in natural changes in societal behaviors as dictated by naturally unchangeable human nature. I have researched history to help establish a baseline of repetitive therefore predictable outcomes. 

Unfortunately, even if I could completely disengage common sense and view the world through the perspective of a self-righteous narcissist, I do not believe I could ever solve or understand the conundrums of modernity. 

Follow me on this rabbit trail? 

While watching an old movie, forced to suffer through all of the advertising (because it wasn’t recorded, the way we normally watch programs), the primary sponsorship was a coalition of charitable organizations. There were at least two groups, each represented by a celebrity spokesperson, pleading for help to feed hungry children. Swapping out in fair rotation there were also two separate groups stating, with equally heartfelt passion, the case for abused animals who desperately need support. Each and every fervent plea, featuring either emaciated weeping children or sad-eyed, shivering dogs and cats, was accompanied by the mournful random notes of a piano, gently plunking out a tuneless tune in minor key. In every commercial break–ten minutes of movie for every three plus minutes of commercial–the viewer was presented with profound gut wrenching pathos. One appeal minimized the cost to the potential donor a mere seventy cents a day and another only required, “just fifty cents a day,” as the actress entreated with the tiniest edge of guilt-baiting, “to feed a child who would otherwise die.” 

Fifty cents a day to save a child’s life. What heartless dolt could turn that down?

It was almost too much to bear. Those devastating faces. I could hardly get back into the movie in between the haunting ads. How could I even think of anything but all that need? Little hungry children and abused animals?

An hour and half in it was too much but in an unexpected way. 

After the fourth or fifth run through, I was suddenly more aware of the formula of coercive persuasion, and the actors pushing it, than I was of the compelling messages. I started thinking about the audience these well-crafted mini-documentaries were directed to. Americans, of course. Americans who are known to be the most charitable people on earth. And, amazingly enough, (here comes the conundrum part) Americans who rally passionately to preserve the right to abort their babies, at all stages of development, by the millions annually. These are the same Americans who are targeted because they are easily convinced to heed the compassionate call to donate to save children in third world countries, even as they (and their famous spokespersons) vehemently support the “Right to Choose” here in the most prosperous country on earth. And, as an aside, as they ignore the kids in their own city, who often go to bed without supper, because, you know, one doesn’t want to get involved. 

Again, I’ve tried and I cannot figure this out.

Now before the ire of indignation rises up and comes crashing in on me,  I wish to establish that I am not seeking to dissuade anyone from signing up to send money to other countries to help feed hungry children. There are many noble organizations that champion such great causes, many selfless, Godly groups who do immeasurable good in the worst places on earth and they deserve to be supported. As it so happens I have a special calling to feed others, especially children and small defenseless animals. Perhaps it’s the mother instinct in me even more than my Christian mandate.

My point is not about the real need, which seems to be growing exponentially, in every corner of the globe, but about the rise in the feel-good hypocrisy of this waning age. We flutter here and there crafting our ice cream castles in the air, all the while we are so easily led to believe that need is something else, something ethereal and less touchable. All it takes is sound and imagery skillfully spliced together, presented by a familiar icon in an audio/visual appeal to tap into the most vulnerable senses and then a quick click on the “donate” button and we’re all righteous. Children are fed and allowed to live, animals are rescued and comforted. 

[Cue piano crescendo]

A world where we are not only allowed but encouraged to cherry pick our sensibilities, where words and meanings are often redesigned and retrofitted to the concepts du jour, where illusion and coercion are expertly devised and is preferred over the unpleasantries of truth, is a world knee-deep in hypocrisy so debilitating that there is no remedy that humankind could ever muster of and by itself.

While I may not be able to fully understand why this is, I do fully grasp that this condition cannot  ever right itself at this far gone point. A day of reckoning is over-due.

I've looked at life from both sides now

From WIN and LOSE and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now

From up and down and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

lyrics from Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell

For Him,

Meema

Common Senseless

He sent me a link. This was to yet another app. He loves apps. I just noticed that when I typed in “app” it wasn't underlined as a misspelled word. Apparently even my word processor has accepted the term as a new word. 

This bothers me. I don’t have the same enthusiasm for daily updates in appville (my software didn’t recognize “appville” - this makes me happy because it gives me a point  up in the fast paced inventing new words game). 

I get it. I know that modern technology has become something akin to life as we have known it but on steroids. I get that the “next new thing” must happen before the majority of the population has even discovered there was a last new thing. I also get that the driving force is about not just replacing what came before even if it isn’t a better way to do a thing, but rather a way to coax us into the addiction to all things new so that we will want whatever it is without question. I get it that this is founded in rampant commercialism and not in the altruistic desire to better mankind’s condition.

Well, here’s a confession. I don’t need new just because it is labeled new. Like Dyson I just need things to work properly. If it works, why replace it with something else that may or may not work better and probably takes more effort, devises and/or steps to complete? 

I get it.  I am a lone voice of resistance in the brave new world. I am definitely not new. I am not even old anymore, I am officially antique. 

However. 

I still know how to do things, without apps, without Facebook, without Twitter. I can create an html page and get it up on the web, even though the software has gone from easy to use to almost impossible because what could once be done in two steps now takes five or six. Easy has been redefined to mean “whatever is new so disregard  everything else even if it is more complex and way less easy”.  And further, my webpage, as designed using archaic skills, won’t look exactly like all other webpages in the current trending pattern. (Trending - that’s a new word. It means what the sheep...uh...er...people are pandering after in a given moment. This changes hourly).  

I can predict what the next “new” hairstyle will be. Short. (That’s a future blog post).

I can find my way to a place with a printed map. Shockingly this is more often than not more reliable than the bad directions given by my smooth-talking GPS lady who tells me I have arrived at my destination and yet I am pretty sure I haven't..

I can read a book without having to charge it first. And it works every time.

I can divide 90 by 18 and get the answer “5” in one step instead of 104 steps even though Common Core says my answer is wrong.

I don’t need to be profiled, categorized, classified or relegated so that the deluge of advertising thrown at me is more likely to fit my wants. What I want is to be left to my own determinations about what I need and want. Like back in the old days when humans were allowed to be diverse and less able to be anticipated.

Yes, I am an antique which means I am also one of the last of the generation of independent thinkers who still evaluates all things utilizing criteria founded in near extinct common sense.

If I had to, I could wash my dishes by hand. I could rinse out dirty clothes and hang them up to dry. I could make a meal on a campfire. Do I want to? Not so much. No one appreciates indoor plumbing as much as I. I enjoy the instant, unlimited access to knowledge via the internet. I enjoy being able to post my ramblings in this blog for whomever might stumble on it. But while I am engaged and participating in the new paradigm I insist on maintaining a measure of common sense that allows me to discern the truth from the lies. To sort and file based on my conclusions, even if no one else agrees. To decide if a new thing is indeed better or not...for me. To make choices for myself only after I scrutinize all the angles and then ask the question, “Is this an improvement or just another attempt to force me to part with my hard earned common sense and/or money?” 

And, the age-old question that my mom instilled in me, “Is it better just because everyone else is doing it?”

From this rant one might deduce that I am opposed to technological progress but that would be incorrect. What I am opposed to is mindless acceptance of every and all new innovation. It is a dangerous condition that is causing the rapid dissolution of what used to keep civilization civil and has now put us on the fast-track to self-destruction. Some will argue that it’s okay though because the train is the latest, newest, bestest of the best. 

My word processor, (that I do so appreciate), does not like the word ‘bestest”. Another point for me, I'm on a roll.

For Him,

Meema

(Daniel 12:4) But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book, even to the time of the end: many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.  (note: knowledge is not wisdom)