Was composing an e-mail to a friend detailing my complaints of the day, headache, didn’t sleep well, etc. and then I was stopped mid sentence. By voicing those complaints, I was giving them power. I was allowing them to become the focus of my thoughts and deeds and they were negative. I didn’t delete them, but I changed my tune.
Every good and perfect gift comes from my Father in heaven and today is a gift. And I was raining all over His precious gift to me with my negative complaints. Facebook contained several posts yesterday of Monday bashing. No, Monday is not my favorite day, but at least I was alive and kicking to live through it, lots of people weren’t. And I know God is up there shaking his head about how I complain over the little stuff and that’s because I give the big stuff to him, but I try to handle the little stuff myself.
Have you ever given someone a gift and were all excited because you spent lots of time and picked out something super special and they were kind of eh? That’s what I did to God this morning. He gave me this glorious Texas spring day gift wrapped, full of possibilities and I went eh. I’m sorry.
As I’ve said before, I do not bound out of bed in the morning, it takes the equivalent of TNT to blast me out, so I do not jump up ready to face the day, and God made me and I think he understands that, but I usually try to thank him for the night’s sleep, (as my Dad says “the rest of the night” which always confused me. We were sitting at the breakfast table and he was thanking him for the rest of the night when night was over. It took me years before I realized he was thanking him for the REST of the night.) And usually I will invite Him into my day, and I failed to do that this morning.
Every good and perfect gift comes from him and I rained all over this one. So from this second on I am taking him up on his offer to spend the day with me. I will invite him into every little thing I do today and see what surprises He has in store for me.
“Father, forgive me for ignoring you this morning and raining all over your gift to me. I look forward to spending the day with you, seeing things through your eyes. Thank you for your grace which covers my selfishness in ways I can’t even comprehend. I love you. Please take my hand and let’s discover this day together.”
Shalom,
Stevie
Copywrite © Stevie Stevens 2010 Fort Worth Texas for information contact faithleap@sbcglobal.net
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Do Gooders versus Christ Doers
I saw a play back when I was in high school called Texas Meg. It was about an upper crust aunt and uncle who HAD to take in their niece, Meg, who was a country girl, because it was their CHRISTIAN DUTY. That phrase has resounded with me on more than one occasion. DUTY. Something that MUST be done, and not lovingly.
It was brought to mind the other day when I was e-mailing a friend talking about someone who coordinated a project in one of the neighborhoods here in town and that somebody needed to be in charge otherwise all the do gooders would be running into each other and duplicating efforts. But that’s not what I meant to say.
In my mind, I equate do gooders with the Pharisees of Jesus’ time. They do good to be seen of men. They think of the act and not the recipient. Need shoes, here, I don’t wear these anymore, you can have them. Not thinking about how that person feels getting second hand shoes. That’s not to say if I was barefoot and it was 20 degrees outside that I wouldn’t wear hand me down shoes, I’ve not been in that situation. Doing their Christian Duty, marking it off of their “to do” list and feeling rather sanctimonious that they gave up X number of hours on a Saturday or X number of dollars to help those poor people. Christian duty. Pharisees. Do Gooders.
I corrected myself and said that Christ doers also need to be coordinated to keep from duplicating efforts, but in my mind’s eye I see a completely different mind set. I see helping others while leaving them with their dignity in tact. New shoes still in the box or bag from the store, making sure they are the right size and fit. Not just, here, get rid of those ratty old things on your feet so I can feel good about helping, but let me help you try these on, if they don’t fit we’ll find some others. Things that Christ would do, in the manner that he would do it. And I think that is what sets do gooders and Christ doers apart.
Having been in and around churches most of my life, I’ve seen plenty of both. Working in Royal Family Kids’ Camps for the past 10 years, I saw the do gooders get weeded out pretty quickly because being a Christ doer is a bigger investment. Part of you gets left with the ones you help, and part of them comes away with you. That’s not to say I haven’t ever been a do gooder, I’m wired to fix things, so I will try to fix something even if it’s not best for that person, without a thought to manner in which I may be doing it. I shudder to think how many people have been “helped” by me in a fashion that dented their dignity, and that was the furthest thing from my mind. My intention was good but my execution wasn’t. Jesus is working on that with me and slowly I’m seeing the person first, and the needs second.
Do gooders also practice “checkbook charity”. The old, I’ll write a check but I don’t really want to get dirty premise. And yes, I’ve done my share of that as well, although most of the time my checkbook hasn’t been flush enough, so I’ve had no choice but to get my hands dirty. But that’s what Christ doers do. They are right there in the dirt and cold ministering to those who need. Jesus Christ didn’t sit in the temple and dole out miracles from afar, he was right there on the dusty roads, standing on the seashore, surrounded by the poorest of the poor, giving them what they needed most, a loving look, a helping hand, an acknowledgement that they existed in a society that ignored them.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve averted my eyes from the homeless begging for money on the street corners, refusing to look at them because I might see a person. Someone that society ignores. Something Christ would never do.
I understand that being a Christ doer is a lot more involved, more intimate than being a do gooder. I have to get closer than arm’s length, I have to get my hands dirty and maybe even my heart broken, but in the end, it’s easier, because I have a helper, an example, a savior to show me how. And after all is said and done, the reward is eternal.
Shalom
Stevie
Copywrite © 2010 Stevie Stevens Fort Worth, TX. Contact information: faithleap@sbcglobal.net
It was brought to mind the other day when I was e-mailing a friend talking about someone who coordinated a project in one of the neighborhoods here in town and that somebody needed to be in charge otherwise all the do gooders would be running into each other and duplicating efforts. But that’s not what I meant to say.
In my mind, I equate do gooders with the Pharisees of Jesus’ time. They do good to be seen of men. They think of the act and not the recipient. Need shoes, here, I don’t wear these anymore, you can have them. Not thinking about how that person feels getting second hand shoes. That’s not to say if I was barefoot and it was 20 degrees outside that I wouldn’t wear hand me down shoes, I’ve not been in that situation. Doing their Christian Duty, marking it off of their “to do” list and feeling rather sanctimonious that they gave up X number of hours on a Saturday or X number of dollars to help those poor people. Christian duty. Pharisees. Do Gooders.
I corrected myself and said that Christ doers also need to be coordinated to keep from duplicating efforts, but in my mind’s eye I see a completely different mind set. I see helping others while leaving them with their dignity in tact. New shoes still in the box or bag from the store, making sure they are the right size and fit. Not just, here, get rid of those ratty old things on your feet so I can feel good about helping, but let me help you try these on, if they don’t fit we’ll find some others. Things that Christ would do, in the manner that he would do it. And I think that is what sets do gooders and Christ doers apart.
Having been in and around churches most of my life, I’ve seen plenty of both. Working in Royal Family Kids’ Camps for the past 10 years, I saw the do gooders get weeded out pretty quickly because being a Christ doer is a bigger investment. Part of you gets left with the ones you help, and part of them comes away with you. That’s not to say I haven’t ever been a do gooder, I’m wired to fix things, so I will try to fix something even if it’s not best for that person, without a thought to manner in which I may be doing it. I shudder to think how many people have been “helped” by me in a fashion that dented their dignity, and that was the furthest thing from my mind. My intention was good but my execution wasn’t. Jesus is working on that with me and slowly I’m seeing the person first, and the needs second.
Do gooders also practice “checkbook charity”. The old, I’ll write a check but I don’t really want to get dirty premise. And yes, I’ve done my share of that as well, although most of the time my checkbook hasn’t been flush enough, so I’ve had no choice but to get my hands dirty. But that’s what Christ doers do. They are right there in the dirt and cold ministering to those who need. Jesus Christ didn’t sit in the temple and dole out miracles from afar, he was right there on the dusty roads, standing on the seashore, surrounded by the poorest of the poor, giving them what they needed most, a loving look, a helping hand, an acknowledgement that they existed in a society that ignored them.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve averted my eyes from the homeless begging for money on the street corners, refusing to look at them because I might see a person. Someone that society ignores. Something Christ would never do.
I understand that being a Christ doer is a lot more involved, more intimate than being a do gooder. I have to get closer than arm’s length, I have to get my hands dirty and maybe even my heart broken, but in the end, it’s easier, because I have a helper, an example, a savior to show me how. And after all is said and done, the reward is eternal.
Shalom
Stevie
Copywrite © 2010 Stevie Stevens Fort Worth, TX. Contact information: faithleap@sbcglobal.net
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sub-Moronic Imbeciles
This was going to be a ranting blog, but I have calmed down considerably since the event actually happened.
I ran into, almost literally, a sub-moronic imbecile on my way home the other night. Granted I was extremely tired, but that’s beside the point. The street I live on becomes a parking lot after about 7:00 p.m. Every house on my street has at least three cars and room to park two in the driveway, so needless to say it is almost like a pinball machine to drive down it, bouncing from side to side to avoid a collision.
It was a little before 9, so it was good and dark and I’m driving towards my house. A car is coming towards me so I slide into a hole between two parked cars. I pull out and keep going and there, silhouetted in the headlights of another oncoming car, I see a figure of a man standing beside a Cadillac pickup truck. To dodge another car, I pull in and wait, then it’s my turn, as I ease on up the street, it becomes clear to me that in the dark on a crowded street, this sub-moronic imbecile is WASHING HIS CAR. Not only is he washing his car, but because it is wet, he doesn’t hug it as I pass by, but stays about a foot and a half away from it. Well, he jumped on my last nerve. I got in the house and unloaded on my housemate about where was his keeper, and did he not have the sense God gave a turnip to get out of the street. Well, I’m sure she was ready to call my keeper at that point.
We’ve all been involved with SMI’s before. You know the ones you wonder how they got that far, did they escape from the home, did they chew through their foot to escape, is their keeper following behind with a butterfly net? Now, I know it’s wrong to jump to snap judgments about people. Okay, it’s wrong to judge people, but some people just ask for it.
I’ve decided I’m going to be a committee of one to rid the public of these SMI’s. I will have a stock of dunce caps which I will dole out on a case by case basis. My blog will be suspended while I do this. I leave for Washington DC in the morning . . .
Politically incorrect,
Stevie
I ran into, almost literally, a sub-moronic imbecile on my way home the other night. Granted I was extremely tired, but that’s beside the point. The street I live on becomes a parking lot after about 7:00 p.m. Every house on my street has at least three cars and room to park two in the driveway, so needless to say it is almost like a pinball machine to drive down it, bouncing from side to side to avoid a collision.
It was a little before 9, so it was good and dark and I’m driving towards my house. A car is coming towards me so I slide into a hole between two parked cars. I pull out and keep going and there, silhouetted in the headlights of another oncoming car, I see a figure of a man standing beside a Cadillac pickup truck. To dodge another car, I pull in and wait, then it’s my turn, as I ease on up the street, it becomes clear to me that in the dark on a crowded street, this sub-moronic imbecile is WASHING HIS CAR. Not only is he washing his car, but because it is wet, he doesn’t hug it as I pass by, but stays about a foot and a half away from it. Well, he jumped on my last nerve. I got in the house and unloaded on my housemate about where was his keeper, and did he not have the sense God gave a turnip to get out of the street. Well, I’m sure she was ready to call my keeper at that point.
We’ve all been involved with SMI’s before. You know the ones you wonder how they got that far, did they escape from the home, did they chew through their foot to escape, is their keeper following behind with a butterfly net? Now, I know it’s wrong to jump to snap judgments about people. Okay, it’s wrong to judge people, but some people just ask for it.
I’ve decided I’m going to be a committee of one to rid the public of these SMI’s. I will have a stock of dunce caps which I will dole out on a case by case basis. My blog will be suspended while I do this. I leave for Washington DC in the morning . . .
Politically incorrect,
Stevie
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