By christon | November 14, 2013
Of all the things our modern, electrically-powered society has destroyed, none is so easily overlooked as “silence.” A century ago, a world without radios, televisions, CD players, pagers, and cell phones provided numerous opportunities to be alone with one’s thoughts. Today, we seem to fear silence, afraid of what we might hear if we were forced to stop and listen.
Five weeks ago I began an experiment: I turned off the radio in my truck for the entire month. No music, no news, no talk. Just silence. And in that month of silence I came to love those twenty or thirty minutes a day without noise.
At first it was hard. In fact for the first few days I felt so unnerved by the silence that I found myself talking out loud, even though I was the only one there. But even those one-sided discussions usually focused on something I was worried about or some idea I was trying to develop, so while I may have looked strange talking to myself, the time was productive.
As the days passed, I came to enjoy the silence, since it provided my one chance all day to simply sit and think. I have never had much success praying while driving, but during these days of stillness I definitely received insights I would not have found otherwise. I think maybe I heard what Richard Foster describes as “the divine Whisper” once or twice.
Despite His hectic schedule, Jesus often sought out solitude and silence. His forty days in the wilderness … just before choosing the twelve … after the feeding of the 5000 … following the healing of the leper … before he faced the cross; in each case, Jesus intentionally withdrew to spend time alone in prayer, solitude, and silence.
Your car may be the one sanctuary on earth where you can regularly experience silence. But even there, you must choose silence over noise. It might be worth a month for you to give it a try – I got so much out of it that I’m going to continue it.
There’s a lot to hear in silence. Are you willing to listen?
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 | November 15, 2013
Old age, I have decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body-the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and sagging buttocks. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don’t agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my friends for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I’ve aged, I’ve become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I’ve become my own friend. I don’t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn’t need, but looks so avant garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 AM, and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50′s, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten — and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed. I can say “no,” and mean it. I can say “yes,” and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong.
I like being old. It has set me free. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I shall eat dessert every single day.
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.
« Previous Entries