Thursday, April 23, 2009

Cookie Dough and Consequences


My Grandma was born and raised in the South…deep in the hollers of central Tennessee. Her upbringing was humble, yet filled with love. When she was 17, she fell in love and married my Grandpa, an Army Projectionist, stationed in TN during WWII. He was a “Yankee” and quickly whisked her off to Michigan after the war. She returned to her Southern roots as often as she could through the years, but to this day, still resides in the North, complete with sprinklings of her once very pronounced Southern drawl.

When I was young, we would sit at my Grandma’s kitchen table, and watch snowflakes fall out her frost-covered Michigan windows. With her rolling pin, she would shape the most incredibly tasting cookie dough into a lopsided circle, and we would press Christmas themed cookie cutters firmly into the dough. While her back was turned, I would secretly tear off a “smidgeon” (this word conceived and born in the South) of the cookie dough, quickly placing it in my mouth before she would see. I would slowly let it melt in my mouth to keep the evidence of my “sin” from being detected.

My Grandma has always been a talker, and I mean that most respectfully. She can carry on a conversation with the best of them, and her endearing accent is just part of her charm. She is an encourager, a letter writer, a woman who could change any heart from sad to glad just by using simple words like “dumplin’, precious, honey, and sweetheart.” The words wrap you like a comfortable blanket from your childhood, and have the power to remove the worst of moods on a rainy day. She has other patterned words she uses as well, like “so forth and so on” and “tidily-winkers.” But probably one of the words she uses often that stands out to me most is the word “consequently.” I think of her every time I hear it.

Consequently is a word she always uses in her story-telling. It is the part in her stories when she is going to state the outcome, whether obvious or unknown - essentially her moral of the story, the crux if you will. In all the years I have heard her say it, I have never really thought that deeply of its meaning. But recently, I have been thinking of the consequences of some choices I have made in my life, and I understand all the more the very weight of the word.

Honestly, I don’t like the word consequence. I don’t like to hear it. And I only like to say it when I am parenting…and even that is a stretch. Con-se-quence. I oppose it. I fight it. I hate when the word and its results seem to tighten around me like a straightjacket. It is in my nature to despise it, because I love getting away with sin in my life. It feels better than getting something for free. Without consequences, I am “free to move about the cabin” – do whatever I want without the fear of repercussions. But I live in a world created by a just God. And because He is just and loving, He cannot and will not allow me to go unscathed by my choices. As elementary as it might sound, it is the very pain from the consequence that hopefully discourages me from doing it again.

As parents, we think consequence only applies to our kids. We foolishly think we have outgrown the word and its effects. But I see it played out in me and all around me- both in those that know Christ and those that don’t want any part of Him. God will remain just and sovereign regardless of how you feel about Him.

In Galatians 6:7-8 (The Message), Paul states “Don't be misled: No one makes a fool of God. What a person plants, he will harvest. The person who plants selfishness, ignoring the needs of others—ignoring God!—harvests a crop of weeds. All he'll have to show for his life is weeds! But the one who plants in response to God, letting God's Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real life, eternal life.” Maybe the New Living Translation says it even better. “Don’t be misled—you cannot mock the justice of God. You will always harvest what you plant. Those who live only to satisfy their own sinful nature will harvest decay and death from that sinful nature. But those who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit.

So, consequently, how I live out my life matters. What I do with the designated amount of days God has ordained specifically for me has significant meaning. How I love, how I serve, how I engage my life with others matters. As much as I am forgiven for the choices I make (and believe me, I know this to be complete Truth), I still have a harvest of weeds I must contend with as a result. And I want my life to show more than that. I want to harvest things of beauty, things of worth, and things of love. I don’t want my legacy to be one of consequences. And I want those around me to benefit by my harvest -to not be hindered or affected negatively by my foolish tendencies.

Right now, I am in the middle of a consequence. So are you. Maybe it’s a positive one….maybe it is a result of something you have done that you wish you hadn’t. Be encouraged by the gift of forgiveness that God offers. And be thankful for the pain of consequence, which has the potential of changing patterns of behavior in our lives for good. Consequently, this reminds me that I am long overdue with a phone call to my Grandma. Wish we could be sitting at her kitchen table right now over some mighty tasty cookie dough.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Amazing, Astonishing, Overwhelmingly Wonderful Friday!

If I told you I sometimes struggle during the week approaching Easter Sunday, would you think less of me? I mean, after all, I am a child of God. I have been saved by grace. I am delivered. I have been made new. I am set free. By His wounds and by the very celebration of that infamous Third Day, I am healed. So, why do I feel sadness…even heartache, as we annually approach the remembrance of such a defining moment in the lives of those who know Jesus Christ?

In all honesty, I can’t stand that my sin caused Someone so perfect, so incredibly Holy, so innocent, so undeserving of such a vile death - to pay the ultimate price for wretched things I have done and most assuredly will do during this one life I have been given. It bothers me. I want to change it desperately. I want to rectify it. Make it right somehow. Maybe even go so far as to intentionally dedicate all my human determination just to live out ONE DAY without my natural bent toward sin - foolishly believing that if I try “really hard,” I just might accomplish holiness. But with all certainty, I will fail. I won’t achieve it no matter how much effort I put into it. This nature of mine will always be present, until I see The Remedy for my earthly battle face to face.

If I tried to analyze why Easter bothers me, I need to be a little more precise in my thinking. It’s not the day of Easter that surrounds me with sadness. It’s Good Friday that is difficult for me to experience. After all, according to John 19, we know that this is the day that Jesus was whipped. The day a crown of thorns were pressed firmly into His head. The moment in time He was slapped in the face and spit upon. Flogged. Beaten. The day He was crucified.

While others around Him had so much to say, so much to shout, scream, and chant, Jesus uttered few words that day. He had a minimal exchange of words with a wishy-washy leader named Pilate. He tried to share words of comfort with His mother Mary and His beloved disciple John, while the weight of His body sagged with gravity from a wooden cross – the very cross in which He had just struggled to carry on His own innocent shoulders. With little energy left in a ravaged, dying body, He simply uttered, “I’m thirsty.” Being offered a saturated sponge with sour wine for relief, Jesus died with His last words being, “It is finished.” Hallelujah!! Hallelujah!!

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I love the honest questions kids ask. No embarrassment. No shame - just simply wanting an answer to satisfy a wonder in their mind. One day, I had a 6th grader ask me, “If Jesus was crucified on Good Friday, why in the world do we call it ‘good?’ It seems very bad to me. Why don’t we call it Bad Friday?” What a great question!!! Something we have all probably wondered at one time or another in our journey with God. I replied to the student that labeling it “Bad Friday” wouldn’t work very well. It just doesn’t describe the day accurately. It does in a sense - because the torturous acts that Jesus endured were horrendous. No one would argue that. But if He hadn’t suffered in the ways that He did, I would be left in darkness, a life-long prisoner of my own sin. He did it so I could have life, and have life to the fullest. And that is GOOD!!! Yet, maybe the name “Good Friday” doesn’t cut it. What Jesus did that day is GREAT!! It is AWESOME!! It is AMAZING!! ASTONISHING!! WONDERFUL!! It is OVERWHELMING!! It is BEAUTIFUL!! And He did this for me! He did this for you! And that is what makes it so “good.” Because He is good. He was good then and He is good now.

Reminding myself of all this “Good Stuff” this morning, leads me to feel not so sad anymore…not so heartbroken. There is much to celebrate. Much to praise. And so much to be exceedingly grateful for.

The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field. There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look. He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand. One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum. But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us. We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures. But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins! He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed. We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way. And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.

Isaiah 53:2-6 The Message