Tuesday, January 17, 2012

My Birthday..sort of

Thirteen years ago today I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. I can honestly say that I am a new creature. (2 Cor 5:17) I traded in my drunkenness for the Holy Spirit (Eph 5:18) and my promiscuity for love from One. (John 16:27)

I am God's child. (Gal 4:7) I am a co-heir of Christ. (Romans 8:17) And I have life eternal. (Titus 3:7)

Because of all of that I have hope.

But when I was first introduced to the Bible I wasn't quite so hopeful.

Before I became a Christian, at the ripe old age of 26, I had never personally owned a Bible let alone read one. My parents did, however, own a Bible when I was young. Of course we did. We went to church—at least twice a year!

I distinctly remember that our Family Bible made a wonderful flower press because of its enormous size. And a great centerpiece piece because it sat in the middle of our coffee table. But to open it up and read it was nothing that even crossed my mind.

So when I accepted Christ as my Savior I decided that I needed to start reading the letters that He wrote to me. Some dear, dear friends bought me my first Bible but warned me that it wasn't necessarily a book that was read from cover to cover.

Dully noted.

So the next day I called the associate pastor at my new church. I explained I was a new believer. I owned a Bible but didn't know where to start. He agreed that the Genesis-to-Revelation approach was not the best. He simply stated I should start in The Gospels.

Great. Thanks.

With that I hung up the phone and opened the Holy Writ and flipped through the pages to find The Gospels. And I flipped. And I flipped. And I flipped. Then I cried. I couldn't find it. So I did what an intelligent woman would do, I checked the Table of Contents. It was not there. No where in the list of seemingly 100 names of books was there one titled The Gospels. Oh no! Did I have the incorrect Bible? How could it not be in this one? What was I doing wrong?

I quickly called the pastor back. I calmly stated that my particular Bible did not include a book called The Gospel but if he had a page number I would try to find it.

He chuckled. I did not.

He then proceeded to tell me that the first four books of the New Testament where called The Gospels and that they were written by four different men that knew Jesus. Of course I thought they were called the “Knew Testaments” because the authors knew Christ. But I later learned that was incorrect also.

To clear things up, he suggested I start my new quest in the Book of John. I thought that sounded fine. I remembered seeing a book by that name. We hung up with each other again.

I opened my trusty book. Wasting no time I turned immediately to the Table of Contents. There it was. John. Four times!! Are you kidding? Four Johns? I knew it was a popular name but give me a break! Which one did he mean? Some were numbered. One was not. Was I supposed to start with number one? Or was the one without a number the prequel?

At this point I was weeping. Uncontrollably. How could I be so stupid? I never thought trying to read God's Word would be so difficult. But it was.

After several more conversations with a now weary pastor, I made it to the correct page. I sat down (hours after I had begun) and read my very first chapter. I was confident that now that I had the proper starting point all would be fine.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Here's what I read:
John 1
The Eternal Word
 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.


What?! What ever happened to “Once upon a time...” or “It started out to be a cold and rainy day when...”


To say that I was confused is an understatement.


Luckily, I made my way through it. God gave me wonderful teachers and understanding friends to come along side of me. They taught me not only how to read the Bible but answer my endless questions of how and why things happened or didn't happen. He placed me in countless Bible studies which gave me a desire to read and learn more.


Now I am in The Word daily. I can't imagine not. I find that it is the best way to have a conversation with The True and Living God. And I still use that same Bible that was given to me...even if it doesn't have a book called The Gospels.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Long Live the King!

Author's Note:  This blog was written last October when we went on vacation.  I, however, just found it in the "needs to be posted" folder.  Enjoy.

Dagnabit!!! I brought the wrong one. How does this happen?

After weeks of planning, preparing and packing for vacation, I thought I had everything our family of six would need. I filled suitcase after suitcase full of clothes for the week. I made sure everyone had clean socks and underwear. I grabbed all the toothbrushes. I remembered to get a collection of “travel activities” including but not limited to various movies to watch, books to read and pages to color. We were all set.

At the last minute I decided I didn't want to take my big bulky study Bible. Instead I found another one and took it off the shelf. So upon choosing which blessed book to bring on our journey I simply snatched the smallest one.

I realize that there are several people around the world that have never owned and will never own their own Bible. I, however, am truly blessed in that we possess various versions and numerous copies of God's Word. We simply have dozens copies of the Holy Writ.

So what are the chances that I would end up hundreds of miles from home. Miles away from my piles upon piles of my beloved Bibles—to discover that the one I selected was The King James Version. Really? I brought the most difficult one to read.

Is it still Holy Scripture? Yes. Will it have all the verses I need? Yes. Was it written in English? Well..that is debatable.

And trust me when thy tellest thou that when thou readist words written for the king of James in a language that was used centuries ago, thou doesn'tist want to readist any furthermore.

I think I would have been better off if I would have retrieved our Santa Biblia. I can translate “Hesus te amo” much easier than this.

Long live the King! (But, I, for one, am glad that King James is dead.)


Sunday, January 8, 2012

Christmas Gifts

After repeatedly asking, several descriptions and much anticipation our children received their Christmas presents. Some of the things they asked for they got. Some things they did not. (Who gives an eight-year-old and iPod anyway?)

On the highly awaited morning we sat back and watched their expectant eyes examine all the presents stacked under the tree. Then each gift was distributed to the rightful recipient each getting their own according to their own specific needs and wants. We looked on with delight as they tore open the gifts and proclaimed their excitement.

Oh the joy!

Joy from both them and us. Joy that comes from seeing them open the gifts they were given and joy from seeing them use those gifts.

Maybe that is how God looks down on us. He gives us gifts. Then just sits backs in anticipation waiting for us to open them then use them.

Check this out:
1 Corinthians 12: 4-11
There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.
Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. To one there is given through the Spirit a message of wisdom, to another a message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.


What gift did you get? Wisdom, healing, prophecy? Are you using it? Are you just sitting there wishing you would have received another gift? Or are you excited about it as much as my kids were in front of the Christmas tree last month?


Just remember that the gift you received is perfect for you and better than anything you could have gotten in a gift wrapped box- including an iPod.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

The Promise of Death

Death. It is really quite unavoidable. Inevitable. Inescapable. Guaranteed. And there seems to be a lot of it around me lately.

It started small at first. Some friends of ours lost a cat. Sad but manageable. About a month later, another friend had to have her dog put to sleep. Depressing yet something we can all handle. Then tragedy hit. Our neighbor's teenage son committed suicide. Catastrophic to say the least. A while back, an elder at our church was diagnosed with several forms of cancer and is expected to die immanently. Finally, death came closer to home. Our pastor's twin brother lost his battle with cancer. And as if that wasn't enough Matt's uncle died.

Once a person, or even pet, is pronounced dead a obligatory set of events seems to happen. Wonderfully detailed obituaries are written and printed in newspapers in any town that the deceased may have live in. There are wakes and viewings in which the embalmed body is left lying in a casket made to look like he is sleeping. But best of all, eulogies are written that somehow are supposed to sum up the life of our dearly departed.

People come from miles around to pay their respects and attend a funeral. And now we can't even refer to them as funerals. As if that particular word make the event sound to sad. They are sad. Someone has died. No matter how you spell it, there is no fun in FUNeral. So now we call them “Celebration of Life” gathers, get-togethers or parties.

All of this death has got me wondering why we wait to say nice things about people until they are no longer around to hear them. Why don't we tell people the things we love about them, how they helped us through a tough time or what a blessing they were until it is too late? If we are going to have a “Celebration of Life” shouldn't we do it when we are alive?

I think we should.

I had this great idea. I am going to use my blog to write Pre-U's—premature eulogies. I will share my thoughts, emotions and feelings about people in my life while they are prematurely dead, or still alive. However you look at it.

In order to protect the innocent I will disguise the “deceased's” name. Still, I will try to make the name easy for you to decipher if you know them. For example, my name would become Melissa McQueen. My neighbor would become Crystal Broodmaker. My grandmother is Betsy Malker. Get it?

I hope that not only you get to see your Pre-U posted here but that you will also start sharing eulogies with your loved ones before you have to read it aloud at one of these “Celebration of Life” events.

June 2010

June 2010
Four little monkies all lined up in a row!