"...He is also the mediator of a better covenant, which has been enacted on better promises." Hebrews 8:6 NASB
Probably the hardest confrontation that the Christian has is the confrontation of non-realized betterment in this plane of existence. I am not admitting that God is a lie, but only observing that "better" in Christ does not always translate to "better" on earth.
Perhaps that is why so many who have gone before me in Christ have asked that question. "If not now, Lord, then when?" We are assaulted with the reality of unrealized hopes, depression, turns of fortune, loss, hurt, and other negatives. Can the true Christian life really be better? Is Jesus enough (this is a massive question)?
When I hear these questions in my mind, I too am bludgeoned with the "reality" of my experience. I too am caught in this continuous tape of questioning. But like Thomas of old, I wish to be confronted by the "higher reality."
Oh that somehow Jesus might say to me and all my doubting - "There is a better way. Be not doubting, but believing!"
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Knees and the Desire to Run
In 1977, I had my first of three knee surgeries. It seems that the creator made me with a special deficiency in regard to my knees. As a young person, I could run like the wind. Yea verily, I was fast. The Nike swoosh wouldn't be enough to metaphorically encapsulate the rapid nature of my personal velocity. I was fast.
I was also very wiggly. I could cut and weave like no one. My natural gait was fast and serpentine. I used to play American football and could juke almost anyone. Combined with my speed, I left many behind.
However, that combination and my God given deficiency led to me blowing out both of my knees with meniscus and ACL tears. Needless (ha ha) to say, I got ground to a halt by the knee surgeries. I found myself, literally dropped to my knees, stopped by the need to be repaired.
Several years later (about 30), I find myself confronted with the reality that the knees that I have (especially the right one) are arthritic and telling me the end is near. That end is the demise of my soccer career. The team doctor for RSL has informed me that barring a miracle, ibuprofen and or cortisone are to be my near companions if I play. AND, if things continue like they are, my right knee specifically may have to be replaced!
So, with the thought of losing the potential for running, all I want to do is run. This is entirely funny to me, since I have always been the laziest runner in the world.
Who would have thought it possible?
I may be surrendering to age, but I promise to go down swinging!
I was also very wiggly. I could cut and weave like no one. My natural gait was fast and serpentine. I used to play American football and could juke almost anyone. Combined with my speed, I left many behind.
However, that combination and my God given deficiency led to me blowing out both of my knees with meniscus and ACL tears. Needless (ha ha) to say, I got ground to a halt by the knee surgeries. I found myself, literally dropped to my knees, stopped by the need to be repaired.
Several years later (about 30), I find myself confronted with the reality that the knees that I have (especially the right one) are arthritic and telling me the end is near. That end is the demise of my soccer career. The team doctor for RSL has informed me that barring a miracle, ibuprofen and or cortisone are to be my near companions if I play. AND, if things continue like they are, my right knee specifically may have to be replaced!
So, with the thought of losing the potential for running, all I want to do is run. This is entirely funny to me, since I have always been the laziest runner in the world.
Who would have thought it possible?
I may be surrendering to age, but I promise to go down swinging!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Birthdays
I arrived at 54 years of age yesterday. I waited until today to write about it, to see if I woke up alive on the first day of my 55th year. You know, just to see if it took. Well, it did and here I am sharing my experience of 54 years on the earth.
The first thing I can say about the mid-fifties is some of my body parts don't want to do what I would like them to do. For example, yesterday I played in a soccer game with my team in the over thirty league in which I play (some of the guys on my team could be my sons chronologically). I did alright, but everything related to my carcass was in slow motion. "Move legs," I would shout and the things attached to my hips would respond with a resounding, "Woe baby, one step at a time, dude!" This was very frustrating and is only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, in regard to my body's rejecting me.
The other thing I don't get is how things on my body just hurt without any reason. Sans provocation, my knees say, "Hi, we are here today, just thought you would like to know." My back is in harmony with the little miscreants called my knees. I have come to realize that I have body parts. Really, when I was younger I would just run, jump, and play; and all of that without knowing I had any specific parts attached to the me that I was. Now I know I have a back, since it greets me every morning. The same goes with my neck, shoulders, hips, and, so I won't forget, my muscles (all of them and some I know I never had).
Then my mind reminds me it isn't there. I often talk like this. "Hey, do you remember uh, what was that guys name? Uh, you know, the guys with the hair, what color was it? And the funny walk, how was it? You know, the guy who lived at that place, where was that? What? He was a girl?" It is very depressing to see the mind that could remember so much not remember anything (at least I think so).
Anyway, happy birthday to me! Another year older and another pain closer to what I can't remember.
The first thing I can say about the mid-fifties is some of my body parts don't want to do what I would like them to do. For example, yesterday I played in a soccer game with my team in the over thirty league in which I play (some of the guys on my team could be my sons chronologically). I did alright, but everything related to my carcass was in slow motion. "Move legs," I would shout and the things attached to my hips would respond with a resounding, "Woe baby, one step at a time, dude!" This was very frustrating and is only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, in regard to my body's rejecting me.
The other thing I don't get is how things on my body just hurt without any reason. Sans provocation, my knees say, "Hi, we are here today, just thought you would like to know." My back is in harmony with the little miscreants called my knees. I have come to realize that I have body parts. Really, when I was younger I would just run, jump, and play; and all of that without knowing I had any specific parts attached to the me that I was. Now I know I have a back, since it greets me every morning. The same goes with my neck, shoulders, hips, and, so I won't forget, my muscles (all of them and some I know I never had).
Then my mind reminds me it isn't there. I often talk like this. "Hey, do you remember uh, what was that guys name? Uh, you know, the guys with the hair, what color was it? And the funny walk, how was it? You know, the guy who lived at that place, where was that? What? He was a girl?" It is very depressing to see the mind that could remember so much not remember anything (at least I think so).
Anyway, happy birthday to me! Another year older and another pain closer to what I can't remember.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Who's timetable is it?
But as for me, my prayer is to Thee, O Lord, at an acceptable time; O God, in the greatness of Thy lovingkindness, answer me with Thy saving truth.
Psalm 69:13
It is funny that we usually try to force the hand of God to fit into our timetable. We call our perceived time of need the acceptable time. When I am hurting, I call it the “acceptable time.” Pain is no fun, yet I am convinced that pain forces us to focus on that which is most important to our lives. If “I” is most important, then pain becomes the catalyst that starts the process of self-pity and woe-is-me-ism. If earthly objects are the most important, such as material things or even people, then we cling to them to ease the pain and if they are people, the potential is there to suffocate them in relation to our perceived need for them. If God is most important, then we run to Him who is able in His lovingkindness to answer our pain with His “saving truth.”
Psalm 69:13
It is funny that we usually try to force the hand of God to fit into our timetable. We call our perceived time of need the acceptable time. When I am hurting, I call it the “acceptable time.” Pain is no fun, yet I am convinced that pain forces us to focus on that which is most important to our lives. If “I” is most important, then pain becomes the catalyst that starts the process of self-pity and woe-is-me-ism. If earthly objects are the most important, such as material things or even people, then we cling to them to ease the pain and if they are people, the potential is there to suffocate them in relation to our perceived need for them. If God is most important, then we run to Him who is able in His lovingkindness to answer our pain with His “saving truth.”
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Climbing out of the pit
I am feeling better. What a simple statement! I am not all yucky. I am not dragging my tail behind me. I am not struggling to find which way is up. I am on the mend!
I have discovered something. When we are sick, when we do feel out of sorts, when we can't find the will to take another step, it does not mean we are dead. In fact, being in that state basically means we are alive. The live dog is better than a dead lion (to paraphrase the Bible verse) because at least he feels. It is a sign of life to feel something.
So, I am alive. I may not like the form of the life, but I am alive.
My high school team won their first soccer game of the season yesterday. Hooray!
I have discovered something. When we are sick, when we do feel out of sorts, when we can't find the will to take another step, it does not mean we are dead. In fact, being in that state basically means we are alive. The live dog is better than a dead lion (to paraphrase the Bible verse) because at least he feels. It is a sign of life to feel something.
So, I am alive. I may not like the form of the life, but I am alive.
My high school team won their first soccer game of the season yesterday. Hooray!
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