How big is your God?

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Ever wondered how come some folks receive miraculous answers to prayer, live charmed lives, hardly ever get sick, depressed or even down, while other precious folks, true believers, kind, benevolent, seem powerless in the midst of troubles? I think the question above holds part of the answer. (For a great series on this see Mark Batterson’s “Chase the lion.”)
Which do you believe to be bigger/stronger/more powerful, God or cancer/adversity/ bankruptcy/etc. Understanding God is bigger than all these things put together and loves us unconditionally, not only gives peace of mind, it puts us in line for miracles.

Here are a few things about God I’ve come to understand over the years. (Perhaps you have others to share?)

1) A God “small” enough for us to figure out would not be God.
Man has a tendency to make god in his own image – ponder the old Greek and Roman gods for example with all their human flaws. One reason there are so many atheists around today is that they try to understand God with their intellect. A god who could be understood with the transient human mind would not be God. God cannot be put in a box and labelled, but He wants to be in intimate communication with us. He loves us, that’s why Jesus came, so we could understand better. Even so, our understanding is still as a child to a father, we take most things on trust, knowing “Dad can fix it”.

2) How can God be omnipresent (everywhere at the same time) in my heart, but also in yours, intimately concerned with every minute of our day? I found this hard to conceive till I realised if something is so much bigger it can envelope everything – best I can explain what I mean.

3) God is love.
There’s far more to this than the familiar phrase denotes. It doesn’t say “God is loving,” it says “God is love”. It also states, He is a spirit. Put that together. He is the spirit of love. When we feel love in any form we are feeling the tangible spirit of God. You might go so far as to say not, “I think therefore I am” but, “I love therefore I am.” When someone comes to Christ and/or receives the holy spirit this love is intensified.

4) Pride, (not immorality etc.) is the cardinal sin. The only folks Jesus ever got angry with were the Pharisees (the religious leaders of their day). They, not the Romans, had him crucified. Yet he was full of mercy toward the harlots and tax collectors etc. Pride is what caused Lucifer to fall from his top job as God’s light bearer. Pride destroys love, it’s humbling to love, it makes you vulnerable.

5) The “who made God” question. The answer to this is simple but hard to explain. As creatures born in time, living our lives in time, we cannot conceive being without it. Time is a part of the creation, God created time, He is not confined by it, nor will we be when we leave this life. Again, man tries to reduce God to his finite conceptions.

Well, there’s some of my Sunday morning thoughts. If you have any you’d like to add, please do. Have a great day everyone!

Whispered prayers.

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As softened cloud transfused with light they breathe upon the air

As soft as mist, transfused with love, the essence of a prayer

As spiraling up in dancing steps the words from lips bring forth

The melody they hold within to sing for all it’s worth

They enter in another world these wispy words so fraught

With earnestness and purpose and from the heart brought forth.

 

So let them rise upon the air with fragrant scented awe

And enter in, as mist the air, and turn to God once more.

Transfused, and rendered, bringing life, transformed to hope from pain

They shall return upon the wind and come to you again.

Love or Lust?

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lust

These terms once held vastly different definitions (yes I can still remember lol!) Nowadays they seem to have merged somewhat. OK, you say, what does an aging Christian lady know of such things? Well actually, I was not always aging, or Christian. I was once a hippy type artist who fully believed (and practiced) the philosophy of “make love not war”.

To this day I see a loving, committed, responsible relationship as being as much of a “marriage” as one endued with a marriage licence in God’s eyes (sometimes more the way many modern marriages pan out). It’s not the licence, it’s the love bond. (There was no City Hall in the Garden of Eden if you get what I mean).

So what about this love and lust thing? While talking with one of my daughters I discovered we had the same perception. With some guys it just flowed and was a beautiful experience, with others even a first kiss was just plain icky, hence we’d both been selective in our love life, but unable to put a label on it.

Pondering the difference I realised it stemmed not from “style or technique” but which emotions were engaged. Lust was purely physical where as “making love” (a handy label) involved deeper and more spiritual emotions. Even if maybe not “in love”, it expressed love and along with love came, concern, responsibility, the act of love made you care more deeply about each other, made a connection on a deeper plane. This was the essence of the “love not war” philosophy – not free sex.

Watching modern media things seem to have become lost or tarnished in many ways, sex often being downgraded to a mere physical act with no commitment, tenderness, yielding of self or vulnerability. You can do it without lowering the mask. (Some seem to use this as a defence system to cover the hurt inside, but it only tends to enlarge it.) For me I’d term it lust.

Nowadays many folks tend to “fall in lust” rather than “in love”, that’s why it’s so easy to fall out again a few years later, or to “fall in lust” with someone else. I feel bad for these folks for this type of relationship cannot compare with the security of love, knowing your partner will love you even if you get fat, ugly, old, or sick because their love extends beyond the physical.

The, “I couldn’t help myself, I fell in love,” excuse often given by a partner cheating on their relationship holds no water with me. That’s not love but lust. Love is responsible, loving, not wanting anyone to get hurt. I know it’s possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time (it happened to me), but love wants to make the other happy so always acts in a caring and responsible way.

So that’s my “rant” LOL!

What’s yours?

A Guiding Light.

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stars

(Sci-fi flash fiction)

It shone, a light in the darkness, the guiding star. All around blackness consumed them as their vessel spun in the endless spirals of the vortex. All eyes focused on the tiny glimmer of light as they reeled to and fro caught up in the stream of space flow.
Sheana grasped the manual control bar positioned around her seat like a massive gyroscope. It was up to her. She must stay focused, her entire being caught up in the struggle. The far off star marked their exit point, loose sight of it and they were lost.
All around hung silence deep as the grave prepared before them. Enemy ships had driven them to this desperate ploy, no escape, no option but to go down fighting. The commander, fought his inner battles. It had been his decision. Surrender meant enslavement, better to take their chances. It had never been done before; they were the first to try. Now all rested of the slender shoulders grappling with the controls. He sensed the stress in her frame; saw the beads of perspiration on her brow as they reeled at hyper speed toward the light.
Suddenly they were free, their eyes dazzled by a million stars. Cries of jubilation shattered the clinging silence. Sheana collapsed back in her seat tears streaming. Computer screens flashed back into action absorbing, analyzing the sky around them. Maps appeared seeking to chart the stars and planets in their vicinity. But where were they?
Andromeda was gone, as were all their former landmarks. They gazed in wonder at the surrounding hemisphere of unknown pinpoints of light. It had been theorized that the vortex led to another part of the galaxy, but this was totally unknown. They gazed awestruck as the stars began to move, converging around them. Then they realized, they were not stars at all but shimmering beings much like themselves.
“Welcome!” The voice beamed itself within the vessel. “Do not be afraid for I am with you”. It was the voice of the guiding star.

A rabbit prolongs my life. (a true story)

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pupand rab

The Burmese doctor looked hesitant. They all knew, despite medication, she was slowly slipping away.
“She sees the spirit world and wants to go.” He whispered. “You need to rekindle her interest in this world somehow.” He glanced at the mother for reassurance. This was not something he usually told his English patients, but she understood. They looked down at the pale five year old, her lungs ravaged by double pneumonia, breathing barely audible as she slipped peacefully back into sleep.
“We could hospitalize her…” the doctor ventured. They knew it wouldn’t help any more than the medicine had.
“No!” the father exclaimed fiercely, “she stays here with us…”
The voices sounded distant to childlike ears, like the whisper of a dream. Around her the light glowed as she drew closer to the music that called her, soothing and peaceful. She felt at home here in this place. She was drifting home…
Angry tears welled up in the father’s eyes. He’d waited so long for this child, lost four already in pregnancies that ended in despair. He would not give up. He would fight.
He remembered her joy on her birthday when they’d bought her a kitten, a fluffy ball of ginger delight and her sadness when it died a few weeks later. An idea formed in his head. He’d get another cat, a pretty one, surely that would rouse her.
Cycling home from work he stopped off at the pet shop, not a cat of any description to be found…

*

She was aware of someone coming into the room, her dad’s jolly chuckle. Half opening her eyes she looked in amazement at the thick leather bag he carried. The purple and brown triangles were wriggling. Eyes popped wide in curiosity.
“What is it daddy?” the little voice piped with sudden interest.
“It’s a monkey,” Dad said.
It wasn’t a monkey, (dad was always a tease). Opening the bag onto the bed he let loose its occupant, a small, frightened, black and white rabbit. Running in circles about the bedding it flung one leg in the air, spraying the room with its jubilant freedom.
The little mouth puckered and laughed. A laugh echoed with tears by both parents.
“I don’t care about the mess, that rabbit stays.” Mother said stubbornly.
Stay it did for a whole blissful week as child and rabbit became friends. Laughter rang often through the room and more pillows were fetched so she could sit up and watch it. She even ate again sharing carrots with the rabbit.
Father was busy every night after work on his special project, a home for Bibi as he was now called.
One day father sat on the bed watching the child, eyes now clearer, sitting unsupported, rabbit in arms.
“He needs to move out to the shed,” he explained. “It’s too much work for your mother with all this mess he makes. I made him a nice hutch. When you’re well enough I’ll carry you down and you can go see him.”
Recovery went fast after that and soon she was rewarded. Carrot in hand, dressed in her dressing gown and smothered with a blanket, she went to look over her friend’s domain. All was perfect, a “bedroom” he could snuggle away in, a meshed area she could see him through and lots of fresh straw. Snuggling in her father’s arms she thrust the carrot through the mesh delighted as sharp, white teeth munched away.
Soon they were playing together in the garden, the old dog who’d played nursemaid in her infancy strangely accepting Bibi’s coming, as if also thankful for the service the little rabbit had performed. Later a cat was added again, the three often to be found snuggled together enjoying the sun.
And the child? She lived of course.
How do I know this is true? The child was me.