Instrucciones Importantes en Seguridad!!

Peligro! Instrucciones importantes en seguridad!! I don't speak Spanish fluently. I know enough to get by. Today I opened a package that had directions on how to assemble a product. They were in Spanish. Peligro! Instrucciones importantes en seguridad!! I know that means Danger! Instructions important for safety! It's good to be able to recognize "danger" as one of the words in the instructions. It would, of course, be even more beneficial to understand what the danger is and how to avoid it. But nooooooooo~ I only speak enough Spanish to know that there is something potentially hazardous to me in the assembly of the product I purchased. What do you do at that point? Afraid to continue for fear of injury, too proud to concede I sat staring at the instrucciones as if the gift of tongues would suddenly descend upon me and yea, verily, the pamphlet I was holding would suddenly make sense to me. When knowledge came upon me I would dutifully arise and shout; "Glory to God!" and "Hallelujah!" Surely that would be enough for God to gift me with fluent Spanish for just a moment or two, right?

I could feel frustration rising. What good is it to be smart enough to know that I am reading Spanish and not smart enough to admit that although I could make out a few of the words, I am not fluent and had no earthly idea what I was in danger of doing if I continued to assemble without understanding. Just as I was ready to kick the box, toss the parts over my head and rue the day I had purchased something from a company too stupid to know that I didn't speak Spanish, I saw the English instructions on the box. The pamphlet was there to accommodate their Spanish speaking customers. It was an "and also" and not the sole set of instructions. I admit I felt a little sheepish for thinking the unkind stuff I was thinking. "What good is it to be smart enough to open the box and not smart enough to see the directions on the box as you open it!"

Every day brings forth new challenges. Every day there is sufficient new grace to meet those challenges. He exchanges grace for grace. It's really a packaged deal. Why is it I only seem to target the challenges and not the grace that comes with it? I probably have thousands of unopened packages of grace. The older I get the more they seem to pile up. I get frustrated, I get to feeling down, I get to feeling overwhelmed and I forget to reach for the grace that is mine.

Lamentations 3 is a good place to read when I get like this, especially verses 16-24.

¹⁶^(W) He has made my teeth grind on gravel,
and^(X) made me cower in ashes;
¹⁷my soul is bereft of peace;
I have forgotten what happiness^[a] is;
¹⁸^(Y) so I say, "My endurance has perished;
so has my hope from the LORD."

¹⁹^(Z) Remember my affliction and my wanderings,
^(AA) the wormwood and^(AB) the gall!
²⁰My soul continually remembers it
^(AC) and is bowed down within me.
²¹But this I call to mind,
and^(AD) therefore I have hope:

²²^(AE) The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;^[b]
his mercies never come to an end;
²³they are new^(AF) every morning;
^(AG) great is your faithfulness.
²⁴^(AH) "The LORD is my portion," says my soul,
^(AI) "therefore I will hope in him."

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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