A Big 2x4 and a Little Dust

He was a religious man. He could debate with the best of them! I guess today you would compare him to one who had been raised in a good ol fashioned church going family. He had been fed well because he was over flowing with knowledge on religious matters. He was the kind of guy that others might find intimidating. You know what I mean...the kind that just seems to have it together, and always gets the job done ... and done shiny and well. The kind of guy you kind of hate, but secretly (not that this author can relate) sometimes wish could be you. Anyhow this man seemed really good at noticing the faults and struggles of others. Every time someone would trip ... he was the first to see! Nothing got past him! He would notice, judge and shame. Another man, who was quite ordinary appearing, yet quite extrodinary, in fact Divine in human form, took opportunity to shed a little bit of light on this man's quandry, a simple illustration: a 2x4 (plank) and dust. He told this man that before he could dig out the little speck of dust out of the eye of another, it was critical to first get the plank out of his own. Now what in the world was the teacher talking about, and can we relate?

One season, a season of healing, this story hit me fresh and new. (That's just how the Spirit works...encounter Him with His word...He's unstoppable!) I inventoried all of the ways I had been loved poorly by others. I was noticing all of the ways that I had been disregarded and wounded. All of these events seemed so potent and defining to me. I rehearsed alot of these events. I rehearsed their messages about me, others, and God. The grief journey (much needed) ushered me into the journey of personal "plank" discovery. The "wounds" of my life seemed to be perfect reason to blame and rationalize. Yes, I said it, the collection of specks (wounding actions of others) seemed great enough to justify my plank, and from my perspective my plank was the speck! I was quite convinced that my plank would not even exist if it weren't for everyone else acting according to their specks! The truth cut past my veneer of victimhood, and deeply penetrated into my soul, me--a woman ... my plank existed, and it ran deep. It impaired my vision on how I saw life, people, myself, and God, and I lived as though I had no choice about my plank! The truth is, even if we blame our planks on others...they are still there, and honestly even if we would have been loved perfectly... we still would have some kind of plank (remember our distant mother Eve? She was loved perfectly!)
Can you imagine a plank in your eye...really? How would you do anything? Sisters, how we need to stop the charades and admit our planks. How we need to be free from the secret justifications (aka blame) for our planks. Sisters how we need our planks removed so that we might see ... with truth. A dear person wisely suggested to me on this matter, "Perhaps it is not merely you who takes out the plank ... perhaps your plank is being dissolved, little by little, by the work of Jesus in you." Wait! We have planks, we need them removed, but we cannot remove them on our own?? What hope we have ... there is one who is more devoted to removing our planks!

Sisters, remember your first love ... He who has seen and known your plank all along, and loved you even still. Remember your first love who allured you to repentance with kindness, instead of shame and condemnation. Remember your first love, He who awakened you from your deadened state of numbing and/or performing. Remember your first love, He who initiated, called, and waited, and waited for you. Yes, your first love. Here's to a day to noticing our first love's work in us. Let us remember, that as life's circumstances arrive ... none is just by chance ... but each and everyone used in the hand's of our first love to slowly dissolve the plank and restore the vision intended.

No matter What by Kerrie Roberts

Baggage... Bondage or Blessing?

We all have it...baggage. No, not the luggage, purses, or bags that we so often pack full of essentials. No, baggage ... the kind that we often forget that we are carrying. This baggage is full of messages that we replay over and over again about ourselves, God, and others. This baggage is full of the names that we have been called, names of humiliation and regret. This baggage is full of hidden memories, details seared onto our hearts, minds, and souls. This baggage is full of secret questions, doubts, and fears. What do you do with your baggage? I spent many years convincing myself that my baggage had never really impacted me, if it had really existed as baggage at all! All the while, I carried not one bag... but a whole luggage set everywhere I went! Much of my energy was drained by my efforts to lug my baggage close to my side, contain it, hide it, polish it, and pretend it away. Sometimes I would trip on my baggage, and sometimes my baggage tripped up others. Baggage. The worse thing about baggage is when it blocks your view. With my baggage, I just could not see clearly. No matter how hard I would look, my view was impaired. Baggage. When it comes to baggage, do we have a choice? Really? Don't be fooled ... we all have it, but what are you going to do with it? Is it possible that our baggage, the things that once brought bruising and bondage, can actually bring blessing? Yes! Is it possible that interwoven with the grief there is deep hope? Yes! Is it possible that out of the places of desolation and isolation one can experience the love of the great Consolation? Yes! For my dear sisters who hide her baggage deeply away, carrying a burden not meant to be carried alone, my heart is in prayer for you today. The shame of such baggage only brings a bondage that you were never intended to bear. Praying that today, you might encounter the grace needed to share your baggage with another, that slowly piece by piece each might be changed from bondage to blessing. That in each baggage you might personally know and experience your true love who was with you when you first picked up the bag, and before.

"What is REAL?"

THE VELVETEEN RABBIT by Margery Williams
“The Mechanical toys were very superior, and looked down upon everyone else; they were full of modern ideas and pretended they were real. The model boat, who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint, caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity to refer to his rigging in technical terms… Even Timothy, the jointed wooden lion, who was made by the disabled soldiers and should have broader views, put on airs and pretended he was connected with Government. Between them all the poor little rabbit was made to feel very insignificant and commonplace, and the only person who was kind to him was the Skin Horse.”
“What is REAL?” asked the rabbit one day … “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When (Someone) loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with (you), but REALLY loves you, then you become real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are “Real” you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are REAL, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are REAL you can’t be ugly, except to those people who don’t understand.” (pages 15-17)