March 8, 2012

• Couldn’t Put Humpty Together Again

  There’s this new food site that I’m totally hooked on. It’s called foodgawker. I spent a lot of time the other day looking at all the things I want to make and think about putting it on pinterest. (If you don’t know what pinterest is, you probably: a. live under a rock b. think ponies are ugly or c. pee standing up.) It makes me sad because I want to experiment with so much cooking but I don’t have time and when I do, I don’t have the ingredients (some of them require fresh produce which does not stand a chance with my schedule.) 

  I got myself a planter so I can grow my own basil and cilantro. I love basil and I love cilantro. This is a special self-watering planter so I don’t have to worry about leaving my little living things since I tend to be away for more than a week every once in a while. 

  Cooking is just one more things I can’t do. It seems my schedule bars me from doing many things which I think will make me a freer person. 

  This however, is an illusion. I know it, because when I do have time, I’m not always cooking or using it efficiently. 

  In my last post, I talked about rising up to meet standards. 

  This is noble, and I love it, and I think it should be done, but it can give rise to some incredibly big issues. The issue is that sometimes, there is so much to do, and so much to desire to do, that the task becomes too great. And all those built-up good intentions fall to the ground and no one (not even all the King’s men) can put it together again. 

  And I get that way sometimes. I run and run and everything is great (runner’s high!), and then suddenly–it’s like a leg cramp or something–I double over and fall to the ground. And I lie there and moan and think about how difficult everything is. How every time I climb the mountain, there’s another one. And how this road is so difficult, and alienating, and blah, blah, blah…

  I don’t think this is what God intended to happen. 

  Reflecting on the Sermon on the Mount is always interesting to me. Just when I think Jesus is on my side, saying, “Yes, you can do all things…” and that such things like discipline and surrender and sacrifice are all within my grasp, I remember this sermon, and in particular, the part where Jesus says,  ”You have heard that it was said to people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.”

  Me: Yeah. I can do that. No murdering. That’s not a big deal. 

  “..but I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or a sister will be subject to judgment.”

  This snaps me back into focus. Jesus continues to elevate the law to a degree which seems almost ridiculously unattainable. 

  Except with a change of heart. 

  Except with a change of mind. 

  Except with a total collapse at His feet in acknowledgement that we can’t do this on our own. 

  I know there are you control freaks out there who think you can manage life (and spirituality) by careful monitoring of variables and daily activities. Where the straight-and-narrow can be measured out with a ruler and some really strong brick. Or others who think Jesus surely must be using hyperbole. When He says angry, He just means… you know. Killing. 

  What bars us from freedom and attaining to high spiritual goals isn’t a lack of personality, or willpower, or because Jesus doesn’t love us quite as much. It’s usually an illusion. An illusion that we are clinging to God, because in reality, we are self-sufficient and totally unwilling to let go of the world. It’s because of want. 

  And what can change want?

  What can give us a change of heart, and mind, and soul?

  I’ll let you answer that. Today, the thought of froyo is keeping me alive, once again. 

  I do, however, believe in character growth, discipline, and steadfastness. But all with an understanding that our foundation is Christ, and that we can achieve nothing outside of Him. This stuff is made of supernatural material. 

   

   

   

  • 12:06 pm
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