Standing? No -- really just propped up.....

I have been overwhelmed by the culture wars going on in our dear country. It seems like daily there are opinions and hate-filled words flying back and forth. The Boy Scouts and the gay agenda, abortion vs. pro-life issues, atheism vs. Christianity, old-earth creationists vs. young-earth creationists, full-quiver vs. feminism..... all of these (and much more) issues press near to my heart as a Christian. I am a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a daughter, a sister, an artist, a church member, a neighbor, a small business owner, a spoiled-dog owner....etc. ad nauseum. But as I ponder so many things and try to keep my head from spinning off into the ozone and worrying myself into an early grave, there comes this still small voice....there in the background, there whispering quietly to me. No, I am not schizophrenic or delusional. At least not yet. 

There are many voices that pull at me. Many opinions that slay or affirm me. Most of us are way too peer-oriented. We walk in levels of fear, afraid of what people think of us or afraid of confrontation. I certainly fight this myself. I am sensitive to the spectre of hurting someone's feelings, more so than what people think of me. I do not want someone to hate God because I have offended them and they associate me with Him. God forbid that I be a stumbling block. But in this day, there is precious little that can be said without offending someone. We have been indoctrinated with the mantra that "whatever is right for you, is right." How dare anybody say something that disagrees with my precious-held self? How dare you assault my self-esteem that was so carefully crafted through well-meaning teachers and social systems? Don't you know children are starving all over America and bullies are everywhere? Especially those Christian ones?

All these thoughts have kept me up at nights, praying and wondering at this brave stinking world that we are coming into. Dear God, how can we navigate now? Everything is changing, flipping on its head. The signs have been there for some time, but in the last year or two things are quickly escalating. What was once called good, is now called evil and evil good. And pity the fool that stands up and disagrees. I'm reminded of an album cover from years ago, a Keith Green album....

It shows a "fool" who is not willing to bow to the idolatrous king that is marching by. You can't see the face of the official on the horse right here, but he is spewing anger and hate. The chances of the stander getting by with this are nil. Funny how, even from the back, he exudes peace in the face of trial. 

I certainly don't want trials, don't want tribulations, don't want to hurt. But my soul trembles more for my children and my children's children than for me. I'm on the other side of that hill. God has more for me to do, apparently, or I wouldn't still be here. I am a prayer warrior for my loved ones, my friends, my neighbors, my nation. No, not a fancy one who gets up at the crack of dawn and spends hours on my knees. Just a breather. Breathin' all day, breathing prayers out and in, constantly checking my pulse and throwing myself mentally at the foot of the cross. Just an old sinner, with the vestiges of all manner of wickedness crouching at my soul and mind, but a sinner that was mercifully redeemed by God. I am redeemed but still struggle in my flesh. I didn't work myself up to be a good girl. I now laugh at my earlier decades of thinking I was ever "good" on my own. I am old enough, tired enough and aching enough now to see a little clearer -- and understand the blissful joy of what salvation truly is and Who is holding me in the palm of His hand. 

I look about at these barbs flying on all sides.

What is truth? There are so many people that consider themselves Christians that do not seem to have any real idea of what the Gospel is. They have embraced some sort of social gospel that is so far removed from the Gospel of Christ that it is barely recognizable. The scriptures are sorely neglected. The truth is pitched out in bits and pieces, carefully chosen for argument's sake, not in context and certainly not in full Biblical context. And it really all gets back to that. God's Word. Opinions fly. Tempers heat. And there's a whole lot of blabbing going on. Ken admonished me a couple of days ago, that I needed to quit worrying and cling to the Word of God, continuing to immerse myself in its truth. There is peace and safety in it. The only peace and safety in this world.

Yesterday as I worked, scraping old walls of their paint and years of layers, a precious song came on, speaking of the love of Christ and what He did for me. He is not just one simple attribute. His love encompasses mercy AND truth and so much more, mysteries that will not unfold in my mind until I am with Him. I trust Him and His Word. I cannot vacillate from that. I pray that I can look through His eyes of love and truth, both. Both! And I pray that when the chariots of political correctness and fear come trucking by, I'll have the courage to stand in peace.

There are elves in them thar mountains

I did a wicked thing. I bought a rocking chair. Do I NEED a rocking chair? Well, no, not exactly. We have two of them on the front porch, actually three if you include Ken's wicker one. And one in the nursery area that someone gave me. But.... it happened when we went up to Liz' athletic banquet at her college, up in North Georgia. North Georgia is a magical, peaceful place. When you breathe the clean mountain air up there, you get just a tiny bit giddy. Could be from the altitude, but it's not really that much further up.... could be that we are not accustomed to clean air.... or it could be that everywhere you look, you see rolling hills and green trees, birds, little cabins and old homes. It entrances you. So you do impulsive things like: buy one of those pecan rolls like they used to sell at Stuckey's (and eat the whole cotton-pickin' thing); go into a cutesy boutique in town and buy a shirt that costs $35 when your usual M.O. is to frequent the thrift store and buy a $3 one with your spare change; go into a restaurant on the river and throw down $48 for what should be a $15 dinner; and then, the worst, go into a humble and innocent-looking hardware store in said little town and sit down in one of their Amish rockers. Don't do it. There's something strangely Elvish about it. Not talking about Elvis here, people.... Elves. Like in Lord of the Rings. Or like the Ring in Lord of the Rings. My precious. Mm Hmmm. You sit in that thing and it calls to you. You have never been so comfortable sitting in something made of hard wood. The fella in the store encouraged me to go downstairs and sit in all of their Amish chairs. There must have been thirty of them, all different from each other. No factory-made stuff here. He said, "There will be only one that will fit you perfectly." And he was right. It was this quirky-looking rocker made of twigs and sticks. It looked like it might break if you sat in it, but when you did sit in it, it didn't budge a nail. It was just right. Not too short, not too tall. My head fit perfectly at the top and my hinder parts fit like a glove into the seat. Rocking it was natural, not contrived or difficult. I might just die in this chair.

 I asked Ken if I could have the rocker. It was on sale, marked down $60 off the original price (it still was not cheap). He simply said, "Save up for it." I said, "OK." He walked next door to another shop, perusing the University of Georgia clothing for babies. Yes, baby clothes. We have two grandbabies and one on the way. Interesting how things change along the way. He had no idea what was about to go down at the hardware store. I didn't either. The hardware dude asked if I wanted to buy the chair. I asked him if they did layaway. He said yes. That was my answer. I had $50 from a little side job I had done, so I plopped that down for a down payment. Liz was with me and that girl should be a CIA agent, she was so locked down. We went home and I remembered the rocker. Since Papa had said I had to save up, I dutifully did that. Magically, through the miracles of technology and debit cards, when we picked up Liz a few weeks later, that rocker was sitting in her dorm apartment. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year (not to mention Happy Birthday, Happy Mother's Day and Happy Hanukkah!)