By christon | October 4, 2012
Is there a magic cutoff period when Offspring become accountable for their own actions?
Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in The lives of their children and shrug, ‘It’s their life,’ and feel nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few Stitches in my daughter’s head. I asked, ‘When do you stop worrying?’ The nurse said, ‘When they get out of the accident stage.’ My Dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, ‘Don’t worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.’ My dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.
When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, ‘they’re trying to find themselves. Don’t worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying. They’ll be adults.’ My dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.
By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. My Dad just smiled faintly and said nothing. I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.
My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my dad’s warm smile and his occasional, ‘You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are You depressed about something?’
Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, ‘Where were you? I’ve been calling for 3 days, and no one answered I was worried.’ I smiled a warm smile. The torch has been passed.
By christon | November 8, 2011
An incident in the life of the apostle Peter will help us answer this question. Do you remember the time the disciples were out in a boat in a storm? Jesus had sent them ahead while He went to a mountain to pray (Matt. 14:22-33). A strong wind swept across the Sea of Galilee. It was so powerful that the exhausted disciples could make no headway rowing into it. Then Jesus appeared, walking to them across the water. The disciples were terrified.
After Jesus identified Himself, Peter was skeptical. “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water” (v.28). When Jesus said “Come,” by faith Peter walked out on the water toward Him.
But then he looked around him. He saw the power of the wind and the huge waves. He thought about the danger he was in and began to question whether he could survive in a situation like that. He began to sink. He cried out to Jesus, who reached out His hand and escorted Peter back to the boat.
We’re so much like Peter. His experience illustrates why we worry.
1. We worry because we’re vulnerable. As human beings, we are susceptible to many things. Disease may strike. The economy may change. We may get stranded by an automobile breakdown or a sudden airline strike. We could get hit by a drunk driver. We’re afraid someone may say cutting words or offer harsh criticisms that will wound us deeply.
We are frail, mortal, sensitive human beings. We are vulnerable physically, emotionally, and spiritually. We can get hurt in many ways. Like Peter, we are merely human and capable of drowning. We worry because we are vulnerable.
2. We worry because we become aware of our vulnerability. Most of the time we feel relatively safe. We can make our home secure. We can drive a reliable car and keep it in good repair. We can get regular checkups. We can buy good insurance. We can maintain peaceful relationships. We take care of ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
But then something happens that makes us painfully aware of our vulnerability. We’re like Peter when he saw the wind and was afraid. It could be an engine that begins to knock. Or one of our children is ill. Or there’s pressure in our chest. Or we discover a mysterious lump. Or we hear rumors of a layoff at work. Whatever it is, it forces us to see our weakness.
3. We worry because we distrust God. Confronted with our vulnerability, we have a choice. We can turn our safety over to God and trust Him with our apprehensions. Or we can take our well-being into our own hands. That’s what Peter did on the water. Confronted by his frailty, he lost faith in Jesus. Yet he knew he couldn’t save himself.
Jesus’ words to Peter are revealing. “O you of little faith,” He said (v.31). Peter stopped trusting Jesus. When we no longer feel that we can trust Jesus with our lives, our feelings, or our future, we worry. And that is sin because we are taking responsibilities on ourselves that belong to the Lord. We are stubbornly refusing to place ourselves in His strong hands.
It’s no wonder that we worry!
By christon | March 2, 2010
I wish that someone had explained these verses to me when I was younger. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been so driven in my work. Maybe I would have relaxed more and let myself enjoy life.
There is virtue in honest, hard work – no one would argue with that.
But some Christians have the idea that work is all there is to life. To relax, to enjoy life, to spend a little of their hard-earned money somehow makes them feel guilty and lazy. So they keep driving themselves till they are stopped – often for health reasons.
Author of Ecclesiastes tell us that it is “good and fitting” for us to enjoy the benefit of our work ( 5:18 ).
It’s about eating and drinking, and talking about a joyous feast – a banquet with plenty of good food available and all the family gathered around the festivities.
Bible clearly teaches that God expects us to work ( 2 Th.3:10 ). He also wants us to enjoy some of its rewards. Whether the Lord has blessed you with great riches or just enough to pay the bills, take time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.
If you’re working hard to make a living, never taking time to smell the roses, now it’s the time to heed the Bible’s wisdom: Find some joy before your life’s day closes
By christon | November 18, 2009
Here is one way to communicate the 10 commandments, the older you are the longer it will take to read!!
1. no1 b4 me. srsly.
2. dnt wrshp pix/idols
3. no omg’s
4. no wrk on w/end (sat 4 now; sun l8r)
5. pos ok – ur m&d r cool
6. dnt kill ppl
7. :-X only w/ m8
8. dnt steal
9. dnt lie re: bf
10. dnt ogle ur bf’s m8. or ox. or dnkey. myob.
M, pls rite on tabs & giv 2 ppl.
By christon | December 7, 2012
As I faced my Maker at the last Judgment, I knelt before the God along with the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives, like the squares of a quilt, in many piles. An Angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life. But, as my Angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each Square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I had endured, which were the largest holes of all.
I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My Angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been.
My Angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn’t had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness and death, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I had spent many nights in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully; each time offering it up to the God in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who it was, and I had to accept it for what it had been.
I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with eyes wide. Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of God. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes.
He said, “Every time you gave over your life to me, it became my life, My hardships, and my struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let me shine through, until there was more of me than there was of you. May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing God to shine through.
I searched for the author but could not find it so if anyone knows please post it to give credit where the credit is due. Thanks.
By christon | November 29, 2012
It is amusing to see souls who, while they are at prayer, fancy they are willing to be despised and publicly insulted for the love of God, yet afterwards do all they can to hide their small defects.
If anyone unjustly accuses them of a fault, God deliver us from their outcries! Prayer does not consist of such fancies.
No, our Lord expects works from us. Beg our Lord to grant you perfect love for your neighbor.
If someone else is well spoken of, be more pleased than if it were yourself; this is easy enough, for if you were really humble, it would vex you to be praised.
Comply in all things with others’ wishes, though you lose your own rights.
Forget your self-interests for theirs, however much nature may rebel.
Teresa of Ávila
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