What if we focus on giving God the desires of His heart instead of focusing on Him giving us the desires of our own hearts?
What if we stop rationalizing "I don't think God will be mad if I [own a ridiculously expensive car, use birth control, spend another hour online, don't go to church]" and start making decisions to fill God with joy?
What if we stop trying to live our lives our way asking God's blessing and start living like Jesus lived?
What if we stopped with all the excuses not to?
What if my TV is big enough, my car nice enough, my house big enough, my furnishings new enough? What if they're not and thats ok?
What if people think I'm nuts?
What if we saw Jesus in every homeless person along our journey? What if we saw him in every other person too?
What if we never retire?
What if we give away more than we can afford to give away?
What if we didn't have to be threatened with hell to desire heaven?
What if we could go to heaven without God being present? Would we still want it?
What if... I go to bed now? :)
Whats Happened To The Lovens?
Things I never thought we'd say...
"We should seriously consider living in community with other couples."
"We have too much stuff. Lets sell everything we own and give it to the poor."
"This might sound crazy, but maybe we should reconsider using birth control."
"Lets clear out our retirement fund. I don't think God intends for us to hoard his resources just so we can live cushy lives and not have to work anymore."
"I'd like to make it our goal to give away 50% of our income."
"I want to be a hippie. You know, if people are going to judge my lifestyle [which they are] I want them to label me a 'Jesus hippie.'"
"Lets make our own clothes." (Eve)
"I don't think so." (Jeff)
God is totally working through this whole Lent thing. Who'da thunk? :)
"We should seriously consider living in community with other couples."
"We have too much stuff. Lets sell everything we own and give it to the poor."
"This might sound crazy, but maybe we should reconsider using birth control."
"Lets clear out our retirement fund. I don't think God intends for us to hoard his resources just so we can live cushy lives and not have to work anymore."
"I'd like to make it our goal to give away 50% of our income."
"I want to be a hippie. You know, if people are going to judge my lifestyle [which they are] I want them to label me a 'Jesus hippie.'"
"Lets make our own clothes." (Eve)
"I don't think so." (Jeff)
God is totally working through this whole Lent thing. Who'da thunk? :)
My Eyes Had Grown Accustomed to the Dark
The winter cold has passed - and come again, then passed, then come, and again - and I open the curtains to look outside. Its bright. The sun is shining. My eyes struggle to adjust and it even hurts a little to look out. To look farther than my patio, than the parking lot just beyond, farther even than the tennis courts on that side of the lot. To the trees, the grass, the golf course. It takes longer than it ought for my eyes to focus and for a while its all just blurry.
I love the winter. The cold weather calls for cuddling. For burrowing. Donning long sleeves beneath knit sweaters below necks and chins swaddled in scarves, heads in hoods and tall boots pulled high over jeans, ducking beneath umbrellas barring raindrops. Dressed and layered and dressed and layered until it takes digging to find the person beneath the fashion. I love the winter. Fires in fireplaces. Blankets draped invitingly on couches. Books begging to be read. TV to be watched. Quiet to be had. Resting. Alone. I love the winter.
But its lonely. Wrapped beneath the layers, beneath the quiet, beneath the cold. Its dark. And the darkness grows comfortable. And after a while I don't even know the difference. Between the dark of winter and... anything else. Any other way.
I spend so much time inside in the winter. I see all day, all night the inside of my living room, my kitchen, my bedroom. I see all day the face of my child, the face of my dog. All night the face of my lover. I can walk these steps, I can speak these words without thought, without effort, without care because I repeat them throughout the winter. Then come again, then passed, then come, and again. I stay inside out of the cold, out of the rain, out of sight. Except for church on Sunday. And even that I can repeat empty because I've done it so many times, and again. And after a while I don't even know the difference. Between the empty and... any other way.
Sometimes its as if I don't know you but only of you. Its as if you've become unfamiliar. Estranged. I've thought of you. Many times I've thought of you. But thinking of you is not connecting to you. With you. Knowing. Its easy to think of you. To cast a glance in acknowledgment of you. To mumble a request for blessing my own dreams. My own plans. My own loves. Me.
But its lonely. Wrapped beneath the layers, beneath the quiet, beneath the cold. Its dark. And the darkness grows comfortable. And after a while I don't even know the difference. Between the darkness and... anything else. Any other way.
But now the winter cold has passed and as I open the curtains to look outside, I see that it is bright. The sun is shining. And though my eyes struggle to adjust and it hurts a little to look out, I know that you are there. And you are here. You've been here all along only I hadn't seen you because my eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. It takes longer than it ought for my eyes to focus and for a while its all just blurry. But you are here. And I can see the difference. Between the darkness, between the empty, between routine. Between the winter and the spring. And the difference is freedom. And its blinding. And its beautiful. And now I see.
I love the winter. The cold weather calls for cuddling. For burrowing. Donning long sleeves beneath knit sweaters below necks and chins swaddled in scarves, heads in hoods and tall boots pulled high over jeans, ducking beneath umbrellas barring raindrops. Dressed and layered and dressed and layered until it takes digging to find the person beneath the fashion. I love the winter. Fires in fireplaces. Blankets draped invitingly on couches. Books begging to be read. TV to be watched. Quiet to be had. Resting. Alone. I love the winter.
But its lonely. Wrapped beneath the layers, beneath the quiet, beneath the cold. Its dark. And the darkness grows comfortable. And after a while I don't even know the difference. Between the dark of winter and... anything else. Any other way.
I spend so much time inside in the winter. I see all day, all night the inside of my living room, my kitchen, my bedroom. I see all day the face of my child, the face of my dog. All night the face of my lover. I can walk these steps, I can speak these words without thought, without effort, without care because I repeat them throughout the winter. Then come again, then passed, then come, and again. I stay inside out of the cold, out of the rain, out of sight. Except for church on Sunday. And even that I can repeat empty because I've done it so many times, and again. And after a while I don't even know the difference. Between the empty and... any other way.
Sometimes its as if I don't know you but only of you. Its as if you've become unfamiliar. Estranged. I've thought of you. Many times I've thought of you. But thinking of you is not connecting to you. With you. Knowing. Its easy to think of you. To cast a glance in acknowledgment of you. To mumble a request for blessing my own dreams. My own plans. My own loves. Me.
But its lonely. Wrapped beneath the layers, beneath the quiet, beneath the cold. Its dark. And the darkness grows comfortable. And after a while I don't even know the difference. Between the darkness and... anything else. Any other way.
But now the winter cold has passed and as I open the curtains to look outside, I see that it is bright. The sun is shining. And though my eyes struggle to adjust and it hurts a little to look out, I know that you are there. And you are here. You've been here all along only I hadn't seen you because my eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. It takes longer than it ought for my eyes to focus and for a while its all just blurry. But you are here. And I can see the difference. Between the darkness, between the empty, between routine. Between the winter and the spring. And the difference is freedom. And its blinding. And its beautiful. And now I see.
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