Just Being Careful
There’s a tan spot on the outside of my hand that I’ve had for a few years. It just looks like an age spot, and I never thought twice about it—until the other day when I happened to touch it and noticed that it was slightly raised.
I panicked.
Skin cancer.
Melanoma?
I made an appointment with the dermatologist only to find out it’s “nothing to worry about.”
But as I left his office I couldn’t help but think, Better safe than sorry. I mean, it’s good to be careful, right?
God is calling us to be this careful in our spiritual lives.
What kind of boundaries are we establishing?
When we hear or see something on TV that goes against His character, shouldn’t we be repulsed?
JUST WHAT IF we took the same measures when seeing something we shouldn’t that we do when we see something suspicious on our bodies? “Oh, no! It’s harmful. Get rid of it.”
I realize we can’t help but be “in the world.” But, of course, Christ calls us not to become part OF the world.
That can be a fine line, can’t it?
Are you drawing the line where it needs to be drawn?
I’d love to know your thoughts.
What’s It Called?
Conversation with my 93-year-old aunt:
ME: Do you have your list for Walgreens?
AUNT: Yes, but you’ll just have to be patient as I get in the car. It takes me a while.
ME: I won’t close the door until you’re in.
AUNT: I have to walk slowly because of my asthma.
ME: You mean your arthritis?
AUNT: No, my asthma.
ME: Are you having trouble breathing?
AUNT: No.
ME: It’s not asthma. It’s arthritis. You’re having trouble walking.
AUNT: That’s why I should be driving.
Once in a while all of us get our words mixed up.
Is it asthma or arthritis?
Is it behoove or bemean?
Accept or except?
You’re or your?
When I can’t think of the right word, I just make up a new one and keep going.
Unfortunately, many have forgotten the word Christian and what it truly means.
If we’re temporarily “taking a break from Jesus” can we still call ourselves Christian?
If we’re not striving to live as Christ lived, is it right to call ourselves Christian?
What IS a Christian?
Isn’t a Christian one who is a Christ-follower?
One who takes on the name of Christ?
One who surrenders his or her life to the authority of Christ?
One who begins to live like . . . act like . . . look like . . .
even smell like Christ?
Ephesians 5:2 tells us that Christ is a fragrant aroma.
And 2 Corinthians 2:15 explains that WE are the aroma of Christ to the world.
I want to start looking like my heavenly Daddy.
Years ago, Alexander the Great ruled most of the known world. The story is told, one night he was walking the guard duty because he couldn’t sleep.
The Roman guards were told that if they had guard duty and they fell asleep while on duty, it was punishable by death. As the leader of the whole Roman Empire walked around that night because he couldn’t sleep, he found a guard who had become so exhausted—and thinking that nobody would ever know—he had fallen asleep.
Alexander the Great kicked the guy in the side and the young Roman solider looked up, petrified. He recognized the face of who he was looking at, and he knew there was no hope. He would be dead within 24 hours.
Alexander the Great looked at him and said furiously, “Solider, what’s your name?”
Terrified, the young man whispered, “My name is Alexander, Sir.”
Alexander the Great looked at him and history reports that he said, “Then solider, either change your conduct or change your name.”
Do you think God could be saying the same thing to us?
“Christian! Change your conduct, or change your NAME.”
Change your lifestyle . . . or change your name.
Change your habits . . . or change your name.
Jesus, I want to act like You—
REACT like You . . .
Live like You
Smell like You.
I often fall so short.
Please help me never to forget what the word Christian means
and how much it cost You to give me Your name.
Thoughts to this blog post?
Ouch!
I went to physical therapy today because my back has been hurting. Too much hauling heavy luggage around the country. So I thought some good ol’ P.T. might help. (Please remind me never to use “good ol’ and P.T. in the same sentence again.)
Did it help?
It’s too early to tell.
This is normal, right? To be unable to move 10 hours after therapy?
She smashed my lower back and kneaded it like dough then pounded, punched, pulled, plied.
As I lay wincing on the table, I realized the pain she was inflicting on me was much greater than the pain I had walked in with. She was hurting me more! Since I don’t curse, I loudly repeated the alphabet over and over. I thought perhaps yelling something would take my mind off of the pain.
It didn’t.
Now, 10 hours later . . . I’m still sore. And actually bruised.
Yes.
That’s right.
There are bruises on my back now.
I know. I know. I know. I’ve heard it a zillion times:
“It’s going to hurt worse before it can get better.”
I don’t want to be a baby, so I’m trying to look at life’s trials this way. Isn’t it true that most of the time stuff has to hurt a little before it gets better?
Wah. Wah. Wah.
There are some things, however, that only Mexican food can fix.