Holy nudges

I don't know what the term is, and I have a feeling "holy nudges" isn't the exact term I'm looking for, but it's got to be close.

See, every once in a while I think, "you know, I should really email/text/call/visit/send a card to [fill in the blank]."  And...  I don't always do it.  Then next thing I know, they're reaching out to me, telling me they've been thinking about me.

We probably all do this (at least, I hope so, otherwise now I'll just feel awkwardly like I'm the only heathen amongst us).  I call them holy nudges rather than "passing thoughts" because it seems like time and time again, the Lord gives me the chance to be the one to reach out first, and then BAM, I've been putting it off and the other person reaches out to me.  It's like the Lord is letting me know that we're thinking about each other and He'd be happy for me if I could be the one to reach out first if only I were paying attention.

That happens a lot.  And I'm not saying every "passing thought" is a holy nudge, but I will say that when my city took out an annoying traffic light near my house I thought I really should send a little thank-you note to the city because it was really so nice that it was gone and then I got lazy and didn't send a card and then they put the light back in because they thought nobody cared (also, they thought it was dangerous).  Now, I'm not saying they would have kept it just because I wrote them a note, but I'm saying it would have been nice if I'd written them a note, and I'm pretty sure the Lord wanted me to see tangibly that when something or someone comes to mind it wouldn't be that hard to reach out, and perhaps we would even end up making a difference.

But in this increasingly lazy-fied world, it's hard.  I mean, I don't even know where I would have sent the note to the city.  And sometimes I want to send a card but it's like, "ugh, who knows how to find their address, anyhow" and then I just justify it by saying it's too hard.  Or (my personal favorite) I decide there's no way to get in touch with them except via facebook and facebook is so impersonal anyhow that there's no way I should feel obligated to send a facebook message.  And, of course, what that means is I can count on getting a facebook message from them and yes, it's always personal and meaningful and yes I feel convicted.

Oh, guys.  I have so far to go.

Bright shining as the Son

Everyone loves something glowy and warm. When we travel through Indiana we pass the Warm Glow Candle Outlet Store, and we just love it. I've only stopped once (the smell was overwhelming and I wished I hadn't), but passing it is better, anyhow. There's a whole wing of the building that shaped like a candle.

That all is beside the point, except to say that I've been thinking of shiny, glowy things recently.

So, Moses. We all know about when he went atop Mt. Sinai to talk to God and he managed to see part of God from the cleft of the rock. Pretty cool stuff, I must say.

But here's what I wonder. When did that warm glow from Moses' face disappear? When did Moses not need that veil any longer? Was it a gradual thing that he didn't notice, or was it abrupt, after the first time he lost his temper after coming down from the mountain? Did the people notice it? Where they secretly glad that they didn't have to see Moses in this supremely spiritual state any longer? and did Moses mourn the loss of that outward display of the fellowship he'd had with the Lord?

I know that seems like a lot of questions about something we'll never really know the answer to, but I think it's something worth considering in our own lives. For instance, I should glow. Goodness, I should radiate. But do I? And if there are times when the Lord is able to shine through me without words, how long does it last?

I want to shine bright shining as the Son. Without Him I am nothing, and I want it to show in every word and facial expression I make.

Stop and let me... read

I have sort of a habit of reading a lot. My lunch break is about 3 and a half minutes of eating and 21 and a half minutes of reading. I read in the bank drive-through, I read standing in line to buy boxes at Home Depot. I read when I'm alone, and when I'm surrounded by people. I read in cars, on planes, and on trains. If books were green eggs and ham, and I were Sam, I'd have to give a resounding "Yes" every time I were asked if I'd read it.

This has created some rather bad habits, however. For instance, stoplights are one of my bad habits. Around where I live and work, I know exactly which lights are long enough to read at, and which ones aren't. And if I have a book (and I usually do) and happen to be at one of the long-enough lights, I'll read. No harm has been done thus far, due to the fact that I'm usually fairly tuned into to when the other cars begin their trek across the intersection, but I keep on thinking that I should stop. Not just stop at the red light (I do that, trust me), but stop reading while I am stopped.

But it feels useless to do nothing at a light, is my thing. I like to listen to music in the car, but I don't like to just sit and do nothing while listening. I always joke that I'm better at listening to music than I am at watching movies. Thing is, with radio, you can make dinner, and do dishes, and drive, and do other things that require eyes. With a video, you're looking, and that's about it. Unless you knit while you watch. That would be clever.

But back to the book thing. I just find it so aimless to waste quality quiet time just sitting. Hence my stoplight habit. When my brother couldn't yet drive, but really wished he could, I would put him to good use and read without a thought for the road, because my brother would alert me to the green when it came.

For a while I took my sheet of Bible memorization in the car and would work on that during stoplights, but then I kept on trying to read it while I was driving, which ended up being a little frightening.

So if you ever see little ol' me stopped at a stoplight long after the red changed to green, make sure to honk a little. Chances are I'm engrossed in the pages of my current book.

Treasures of the snow

Where I live, it snowed last night. Now, I figured it would snow at some point in late March/early April, as it always seems to, but I must admit to being not-so-pleasantly surprised when the snow came. It wasn't too bad (my mom measured at our house, I guess, and we got two inches), but it was all icy, and stuck to my car like crazy. Which was fine, except for the fact that it took about 10 minutes to scrub off my car this morning before work.

Obviously it reminded me of Job 38:22. "Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? Or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail...?" I know that word is hail, but I like to think that it's secretly about all forms of ice. There's just something about the sparkling world of ice that makes me feel like God made it specially for our enjoyment. He didn't have to give water the ability to freeze. I mean, He could have made science a whole lot different, if He'd chosen. But rather, He made water freeze into tiny droplets of promise. Light shines through the ice to reflect sunlight all around.

Funny how much I like winter once I know it's nearly finished.

All about unity

So, you know how I was rambling on about the song City on Our Knees, and how I hoped it was about evangelism and the such? Well, I just found a quick youtube clip of Toby explaining what the song was about. Great, I thought, now I'll know. So I watched it, and, though I know now what it's about, I don't think it's as great as I once did.

The song, says Toby, is about Unity. The moment when we lay aside our differences and we all come together, blah blah blah. What? Why are saints and sinners coming together, and what's their common ground? I'm not trying to be too critical here, but the whole point of sinners is that they're not saved yet. I, Toby, am saved. I, Toby, don't exactly have the ability to lay aside my differences--I'm saved and that's that. I, Toby, should be coming and sharing the gospel with them. We, Toby, are not going to a city with One King with said sinners if those sinners didn't get saved. We, Toby, are the light of the world, and if we can't differentiate between sinners and saints, than we need brighter lightbulbs.

And honestly, I'm not trying to sound like a grouch here, but the difference between me and my lost neighbour is that I have Jesus Christ living in my heart, and he doesn't (yet). That difference shouldn't prevent us from talking (and it certainly shouldn't prevent me from evangelizing, especially since my flesh seems to get in the way of that on its own enough as it is), but it certainly does prevent my neighbour and I from coming together in a unified, fellowshippy way. Sorry, Toby, you tried, and you missed.