Monumental Change

God demands change. He ordains it. He causes it. Change is not optional. I know this and yet I cannot keep myself from resisting change. It's really not logical of me because I complain a lot about my circumstances and yet, I complain a lot when they change. I seem to live in a constant state of not knowing what I really want while knowing that I really don't want what I have. God is working on me though. What was that 70s catch phrase from my "Jesus Freak" period? PBPGINFWMY. Please Be Patient God Is Not Finished With Me Yet. Perhaps that was my short lived Bill Gothard period. It was definitely before my, 'study the Word and show yourself approved' period. (2 Timothy 2:15)

I have been asked to give my testimony at our community ladies bible study. God and I have this deal, when I am asked to give my testimony, I give it. It is something I take seriously and put a lot of thought into. I have had a pretty amazing life... the stuff movies on TV are made of... and yet I can claim no responsibility for the incredible things that have occurred. When giving my testimony, it could be tempting for me to try and sensationalize my experiences. It would be so easy to present a feelings motivated speech about my life, jerk some tears out of people and then give an emotionalized presentation of the gospel according to Rosemarie- throw the Lord's name in it, ask for commitments or re-commitments to follow Christ and call it good. God forbid.

I tend to read Ephesians 4 and Galatians 5 when I am preparing to give testimony of my salvation. In Ephesians I concentrate on the "formerly you were" and "putting on the new" verses. In Galatians I compare the deeds of the flesh with the fruit of the Spirit. It is usually a time where my awe and wonder for God increases because I can see what He has done, what changes He has made and is making. I think if we believers really focused on that, we would all feel like we had incredible lives, lives that are orchestrated in every way by a sovereign, merciful God. We would welcome the events that make us think, "Things can never be the same" with the attitude that "Things may never be the same in order that they can get better." We would do that if we truly believed our lives were all about His glory and our good.

Even my most recent brush with death and the circumstances of my recovery have been a testimony of God's perfect timing and continuing work in my life. He is softening me. He is using my frailty and infirmity to strengthen my faith. I have been blessed by the practical help I have received from the believers He has placed in my life. I have had food delivered, floors vacuumed, toilets cleaned and prayers on my behalf. God does put the lonely in families (Psalm 68:6, 113:9). He is changing me from a 'touch me not' to one who loves a good hug. From someone who is willing to do for others into someone willing to be blessed by others. A small thing for some but monumental changes for me.

So, here I am reflecting on my life and how different it is. Without my permission, God is sanctifying and changing me. The more He does, the less I seem to resist it or the less I kick at the goads. I have moments though. Moments when I look at Ephesians 4 and Galatians 5 and see more sin and rebellion in me than obedience and fruit. Those are the times I run to the Psalms and actually ask Him for change. Real change. Psalm 51 and 139 changes.

Psalm 139:23-24
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts;
24 And see if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way.

Psalm 51:10-12
10 Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
11 Do not cast me away from Thy presence, and do not take Thy Holy Spirit from me.
12 Restore to me the joy of Thy salvation, and sustain me with a willing spirit.

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware. Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers? What happens when luscious blooms are discarded? When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty? Perhaps we'll find out.

rambling rosemarie

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