Bursting with Spontaneous Praise

I dragged my husband, kicking and screaming, to watch Disney’s Enchanted with me.  Actually, he was a trooper. He knew his time was up. We’d watched too many guy movies in a row. It was bound to happen sometime soon.

All I wanted was a sappy, campy movie.  I didn’t expect to learn something about Jesus from it.

Without spoiling the film, I will let you in on one of the major plot points:  You know that it’s true love when you spontaneously sing to each other.

What Disney film would be complete without a hero and/or heroine singing an impromptu love song?  Even the least musical among us can admit to belting out amorous tunes, if only in the shower, when we were first bitten by the love bug.

In the same way, do we know it’s true love when we spontaneously sing love songs to Jesus, our bridegroom, the lover of our soul?

While driving in your car, do you ever, burst out with one of the songs you heard in church the Sunday before? Brothers of the Empty Tomb and the BCG songs work great for this (download free songs here). People drive by and look at you like you’ve got two heads. 

Sometimes, I’ll be reading my bible, doing chores, or going for a walk and enjoying nature, and I can’t suppress the urge to sing a few words of praise.

The Bible tells us how people couldn’t help but praise Jesus when he was here on Earth.  On his way to the cross, Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey.  People gathered to honor him as the Messiah and king. They also spontaneously lifted their voices with praises:

And as he rode along, they spread their cloaks on the road. As he was drawing near-already on the way down the Mount of Olives-the whole multitude of his disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” And some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (Luke 19:36-40 ESV).

If we don’t sing, all of nature will do it for us.

Yes, I think it must be true love. 

Why Wait?

“Silver, that goes with everything…I could wear them with black, with blue, even with white. Oh, and they go great with my silver handbag! My other silver shoes are sandals, which are completely different.  But the price…”

Do you ever have conversations with yourself like this?  Well, if you’re a man, chances are, you don’t.  But, if you’re a woman, I’m guessing that this sounds very familiar.

I was standing at Target admiring a pair of silver peep-toe pumps with three inch stiletto heels.  It was right before New Years, and never mind that I didn’t have any New Year’s Eve plans, I thought that silver shoes were just the thing for the proper celebration. 

I passed them once, brushing them off as too extravagant, but they kept calling back to me, from the other side of the store. I’d be hanging out in housewares, and I’d hear them saying, “We’d go great with that red sparkly skirt you bought after Thanksgiving.”  It’s amazing how loud footwear can be.

I caved and returned to the shoe department.  They fit perfectly, just as I knew they would.  I tottered through the isles, imagining all the outfits that I could complement with the new silver shoes. 

This time, my cheapskate conscience kicked in and gave its own advice:  “If you wait a few weeks, they’ll be on sale at a fraction of the cost.” 

The shoes argued back, “But we’re so cute, how do you know that we won’t be gone in a few days?  When people see us, they’ll come in droves to take us away.”

The shoes won the argument.  I placed them in the cart and happily paraded around in them on New Years Eve, nevermind the fact that we spent the evening working late.  Dan had to stay at the clinic doing charts late into the night, so I brought him dinner, dressed up in my New Year’s finest.  We rang in the New Year together, with a bottle of sparkling wine to match my sparkly shoes.

I recently returned back to Target, a month after purchasing the shoes.  There, on the rack, were a line of several pairs, including my size, all marked down to 1/4 of the cost.  Part of me wishes I would have waited, but I also know that I would have missed out on my special surprise dress-up celebration with my husband.

I wonder how many of us hold off on seeking the treasures of God’s kingdom because we think they come at too great of a cost right now.  We are willing to hold off until heaven because we think it’ll be a free-for-all then. Without sin, without worldly desires, everything will just come easily.

I think that we can enjoy God’s treasures today, and to wait until we’re dead, we just miss out on the opportunity to have a whole lot of happiness.  God offers us the peace that transcends all understanding (Philippians 4:7), love beyond all measure (Ephesians 3:19), and joy that fills our hearts for now and for eternity (Acts 14:17). 

Don’t wait for heaven.  Enjoy him now.  He longs to lavish you with the greatest gift in the world:  Himself!

Bookmarks

I was at the library this week, dropping off books into the return slot, when I noticed that I was returning more than library books.  When I’d reached into my backpack to grab a book, I’d also picked up something else that was sitting at the bottom of my backpack.  The book was at the end of my fingertips, beginning its journey down the chute, when I saw a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye. 

“That kind of looks like a tampon,” I thought.

It was a tampon.

Frantically, I dropped my backpack and dove towards the book deposit slot, freeing both hands to retrieve the book and the white piece of cotton that was attached to it by a small piece of string. 

The five-year-old boy standing at the return slot to my right, looked at me like I was a crazy woman (which wasn’t far from the truth).  I desperately hoped he wouldn’t tug on his mother’s shirt sleeves and ask what that silly lady was sticking in the book deposit slot.

I managed to grab the tampon by the string just as the book finished its slide into the heap of returns at the bottom of the chute.  I quickly closed my fist around the object, furtively glancing around, hoping that nobody, aside from the little boy, noticed that anything was amiss.

Normally, I don’t think returning a tampon with a library book would be too big of a problem.  I’d probably give a reference librarian a good chuckle and a funny story to bring home to her husband that evening.  That would be about it.

But my library likes to create an annual display of the bookmarks that people accidentally return with books.  I could just imagine my tampon hanging behind glass in the display case along with children’s drawings of their dogs, take out menus, and ticket stubs. 

Last month, I’d gazed at the display for a long time, admiring all the things people use to mark their place in a book.  Some people obviously grabbed the closest thing at hand, sometimes pieces of toilet paper or junk mail.  Others were more thoughtful about their bookmarks, and they’d use bumper stickers with funny phrases or notes from loved ones.  Some people lost elaborate art work when they accidentally returned their bookmark to the library. 

I liked the pictures that people chose as bookmarks, typically of friends or children, things that you’d want to keep near you.  Instead of shoving them in a frame, these people actively touched the photos each day and gave them a purpose in life. 

I’ve included pictures of some of my favorite bookmarks, given to me by friends over the years. When I use them, I think about the person who gave them to me.  Often, they say things that are meaningful or that make me laugh. 

To me, bookmarks serve as a sort of Ebenezer, which in the Bible, is a type of marker that reminds a person of something God has done for them (2 Samuel 7:12).  Bookmarks don’t just remind me about my place in a book, they also remind me about my life, my friends, and my God.

I’d love to know what you use for bookmarks, if you have any special ones that you like best.  Why not post them on your own blog and respond with a link, so we all can see them?

Dear Quambolo

I feel sorry for all the Mexican people who have to listen to me butcher their language on our upcoming vacation. Already, I’ve been having some communication struggles with the resort where we’ll be staying.  Before we booked the room, we wanted to ask a few questions about the amenities, and I drew the short straw and ended up calling Mexico.

I took a year of Spanish classes prior to our honeymoon to the Mayan Rivera.  We were engaged for a year, so I thought I might as well spend that time planning well.  My instructor was patient with me, but she frequently declared that I simply spoke French with a Spanish accent.

I called the resort and was greeted by the first person on the phone chain.  I asked, somewhat unconfidently, “Hablo Español?” (Do I speak Spanish?)

“Un momento, por favor.” Came a response, and I heard chirpy mariachi band music.

“Reservaciones,” A woman answered.

“Hablo Inglés?” (Do I speak English?) I said with more confidence.  I realized that I’d misspoken the last time. So I’d tried to correct it.

“Si, how can I help you?”  She replied without missing a beat.  She must be used to American morons calling there.

Further down the phone tree, I tried to perfect my approach even more.

“Habla Español?” (Do you speak Spanish), I asked?  I’d finally remembered my verbs.

A patient man answered the phone.  “Si, how can I help you?” 

He answered all my questions, in English, for the most part.

I asked his name, so if I needed to call again, I could ask for him directly and avoid the embarrassing phone tree moments. 

“Quambolo,” he said.

“Would you mind saying that again?” I said, thinking it was one of the strangest sounding names I’d ever heard.

“Certainly.  It’s Quam-bo-lo.”  He said it slowly, so the dumb American could catch on.  I figured it must have been a Native American, Aztec sort of name.  Maybe it’s a common one in those parts.  

I thanked him for his time and hung up.

Later that week, I sent him an e-mail with some more questions.  It went like this:

“Dear Quambolo,

Thanks for all your help the other day…”

He sent back a response within a few hours.  It was signed “Juan Pablo.”

Risking Handsprings

I’ve only successfully done one handspring in my life. 

In a high school PE class, we had to complete one handspring in order to get an A for the gymnastics section.  I was annoyed to learn that my ability to perform three types of splits and forward and backwards walkovers wasn’t going to earn me more than a B in the section. I had to complete a handspring to get the A. 

Being a bit of a perfectionist (that’s an understatement), I determined that I would do a handspring.  I had a few days to learn it, and I figured that it couldn’t be that hard.

We had a nice padded room to practice in, one that was typically devoted to wrestling practice.  After watching a handspring demonstrated , I proceeded to run as fast as possible across the room, jump into the air, and land on my hands.  Then, I immediately flopped on my back with a very loud “slap” onto the mat.  After I recovered from having the wind knocked out of me, I got up and walked to the other side of the room, grumbling, to try it again.

I took off at a run, once more, and dove onto my hands, only to fall flat on my back:”WHAM!” 

This vicious cycle continued for quite some time.  I was a glutton for punishment.

Some kindly soul who was watching the painful spectacle offered to spot for me, hoping that might get me onto my feet again. 

I ran towards the person, planted my hands, and promptly brought myself and my assistant back down to the mat with me:  WHAM, THUD!

My PE teacher felt pity for me and stacked a couple mats up and asked me to launch myself onto the higher surface, with the idea that gravity would carry me back to my feet on the way back down.  In theory, it made sense.  In practice, I ended up with my head and shoulders on the stacked mats and the rest of my body sprawled along the floor.  I preferred falling flat on my back, thank you very much.

After a few more days of this, I hadn’t come any closer to completing the handspring.  Every attempt was met with the exact same result: Me flat on my back.

It came time for our test. 

I thought about skipping the handspring portion.  I’d probably done 100 of the things, and not a single one had produced anything but embarrassment.  Plus, they hurt like heck.  My wrists were sore, my ribs were sore, and my toosh continually felt like it had been slapped. 

I decided to do it anyway.  I wasn’t a quitter. 

My teacher was poised with his clipboard and gave me a cue to start. After a run, I took a leap, felt my hands touch the mat, and then a strange thing happened.  I was suddenly on my feet again.  Discombobulated, I turned around, looking behind me, just to make sure that I didn’t land on springs or a trampoline or something.  No, everything looked fine.

For the first time in my life, I’d successfully completed a handspring.  The teacher checked it off on his list and moved on to the next student.

Stunned, I went back to the practice area to try my newfound skill again.

I ran, leapt, went to my hands, and promptly fell on my back. 

Since then, I’ve never been able to do another handspring.

Often, I think I don’t take a risk because I’ve failed so many times before.  Instead of looking ahead at potential success, I look behind at all the embarrassing times I’ve fallen flat on my back. 

But when God puts us to the test, when he’s called us, it might just be the one time we actually succeed.  He’s the best spotter there is.  He’ll catch you when you fall, and he’ll carry you back to your feet each time. 

Covered in Orange Fig Leaves

Dan and I are preparing to go to Mexico on vacation, and I’ve been dreading seeing my glowing white skin in a swimsuit.  I’ve got naturally fair skin, and it’s positively radiant this time of year, not having seen sunlight for at least 5 months. 

Before our wedding, I caved to my coworkers’ advice and went tanning.  Having vowed never to join the ranks of the tanorexics, I felt like a traitor as I donned the strange looking bug eyed goggles and smooshed my naked body into the glowing machine.  The tanning bed was my last resort after seeing that my white wedding dress looked darker than I was.

Instead of visiting the tanning salon, I decided to try another approach this time.  I’m getting my tan from a bottle.

As he watched me slather the lotion all over myself, Dan made a very surprising (and slightly insulting) remark:  “Who are you going to fool, anyway?” 

He was right.  I’ve been doing this for the past several days now, and so far, I’ve turned a slight orange-brown color.  It’s not quite a tan, but at least I’m not brilliant white.  I don’t think that anybody would assume that I’m a native Mexican, though, and I think that was his point. 

I recently listened to a sermon that my pastor delivered on Genesis 3, the chapter on the fall of man.  Pastor Mark went into detail about man’s use of “fig leaves” to hide and cover sins, which really don’t hide anything from the omniscient and omnipresent God (click here to listen to the sermon).

I wonder if my tan from a tube is a sort of “fig leaf.”  I’m using it to cover the fact that I’m not exactly perfect, that I fall short of the ideal. 

When Dan asked me who I was trying to fool, he had a great point.  I certainly wasn’t going to fool him because he was standing there, watching me smear the smelly junk on myself every night.  The people at the resort are going to spot a fake bake from a mile away (I don’t think the sun typically turns people orange.).

But I can’t seem to bring myself to stop using the lotion.  I guess I’m a tanorexic afterall.  I suppose it’s the same reason I can’t stop using the other fig leaves in my life, things I realize aren’t fooling anybody, not even myself.

For example, if I’m having a bad day on Sunday, that fake smile I put on my face the moment I enter church, that’s a fig leaf.  I have a curtain over the entry to my kitchen that I close if there are unexpected visitors, and it’s a mess in there.  That’s one of my favorite fig leaves.

I think we all have fake tans or fig leaves, means of covering our sins to try to fool God, ourselves, and others into thinking we’re better than we are.  The challenge is to recognize that we don’t need them and that we’re fooling nobody.  We just look silly, orange, and worse off than before. 

Oh God, may I have the humility to approach you as I am, to take off the shameful coverings that keep me from being authentic and real.

Under Construction

One of my favorite pastimes is destroying exercise bikes.  During a period of 4 years, I went through seven exercise bikes.  I finally got smart and purchased one with a service agreement, so now, I just get lots of visits from the Sears repairmen.  They’ve taken to naming my exercise bike, names which I can’t repeat here on the blog (young eyes might be reading this).

Yesterday, my repairman visited our home, once again. The bike’s belt was offering more resistance than usual, and it was also spewing little bits of black rubber all around my living room.  Not a good sign. 

But the funny thing is, I’ve been putting up with this for weeks.  Sure, my formerly white carpet was growing black with chunks of bike belt.  Sure, I could barely move the pedals.  But I really didn’t want to take the time to make yet another call to Mr. Friendly Repairman.

I have no excuse.  The repairs are free.  They’re covered. The repairman is a nice gentleman who takes very little time to disassemble my dilapidated exercise machine and rejuvenate it. 

I’m just too lazy to make the call.  I can’t sacrifice those few minutes of inconvenience for the sake of an overall better exercise experience.

This sounds vaguely familiar. 

I mess up my life so that nothing is going very smoothly, but stubbornly, I’m still chugging along.  Instead of crying out to God, who’s just waiting to come and fix the problem, I keep going, in the same, broken fashion.  I don’t think about how much better life would be if I would just stop for one moment and ask for help. 

I’ve got the best protection plan around.  And I rarely use it.  It’s called Jesus’ sacrifice, and he’s purchased all my brokenness, with the promise to make me shiny and new again.  All I have to do is ask. 

 “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened” (Matthew 7:7-8).

Good Reasons to Memorize Scripture

I’ve been memorizing scripture for two weeks now-well, that’s been the goal anyway.  And I thought I’d take some time to share with you all some of the things I’m learning about the value of committing God’s word to memory. 

First, a confession.  So far, I’ve only got 8 verses down, only 6 if I’m being really picky about it.  This is tough.  Towards the end of last week, I had a melt-down of sorts, and it seemed like my brain reached its capacity.  The section reserved for scripture appeared to be full.  So, I ignored my flashcards all weekend, and I didn’t even crack open the book of James once.

On Sunday, I started feeling pretty defeated.  Not even two weeks into my New Year’s resolution, and I’d given up.  Typical. 

Thankfully, God intervened, and reminded me that when I started this, I recognized my inability to do this outside of his power.  Somewhere along the way, probably around day two, I started relying on my own strength to accomplish it.  So, I’m back to asking him for help and realizing that I can’t do this on my own (hmm, that sounds familiar). 

Last night, I was reading John Piper’s famous treatise on joy, Desiring God.  It’s taking me forever to read it because for a book on joy, it’s pretty heavy.  It just so happens that I’m on chapter 5, “Scripture,” which I’m sure isn’t exactly a coincidence (to read it online for free, click here).  Basically, the chapter is all about why we should memorize scripture.  In sum, Piper says we should memorize God’s word because, “It is the source of life and faith and power and hope and freedom and wisdom and comfort and assurance and victory over our greatest enemy” (152).  In two weeks, have I experienced all that, with only 8 verses?  I think I can say yes, but perhaps with just a small taste of the full potential. 

The first thing I’ve noticed is that it’s far easier to fight with a solid, sharp sword.  The Word of God is our weapon against the attacks of the enemy (Ephesians 6:17).  Before I memorized portions of scripture, I just had fragments of the sword to throw back at the enemy.  When I was beaten down in the midst of a trial, I would despair and have little to claim except, “It says somewhere that God knows what he’s doing.”  Sure, that’s true, but it doesn’t exactly have the redeeming power of this: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete” (James 1:2-4).  I know this because I’ve had several occasions to use it these past two weeks.

Another way scripture memory has been useful in my life is its power to combat insomnia.  Some of you might recall my post about praying myself to sleep (click here to read it).  Let me tell you, the knockout combination of prayer and scripture recitation will do it every time! 

Are you lonely or bored out of your mind?  Scripture makes great company.  God’s Word is living and active (Hebrews 4:12), and it will always bring you fresh new insight and healing companionship.  I’ve taken to reciting my memory verses while standing in line at the grocery store.  I also found that they’re great to recite while walking from point A to point B (Just one note of caution, if you plan on reciting them aloud, insert your phone’s bluetooth earpiece so people don’t think you’re nuts).    

The final way that I’ve been blessed through scripture memorization is by knowing verses to share with others.  It’s a joy to encourage others with the right scripture at the right time.  I’ve been a little too enthusiastic about this the last two weeks, and I must apologize to those of you whom I’ve barraged with verses from James!  If they’ve been helpful, then I suppose it’s okay. 

All this after only two weeks!  I’m expecting to learn many things while I memorize this book.  If any of you would like to share how God has blessed you through memorizing his Word, I’d love to hear it! 

A Risky Lunch Date

Some of you are probably wondering, “How’s Amy’s risk resolution thing going?”  Others could probably care less, and if you’re one of them, this post isn’t for you.

On faith, I resolved to make more risks for God’s glory in 2008 (click here to read the post).  Now, I have no clue what that means, practically, but I figured that God would clue me in.  After all, my memory verse today promised me that all we have to do is ask God for wisdom, and he’ll freely give it to us (James 1:5). 

Last Friday, he gave me my first opportunity to make a risk for him.  It wasn’t the type of risk I expected.

I spent the day shopping, taking advantage of all those great after Christmas sales.  Around lunchtime, I wasn’t close to finishing, with well over half the mall left unexplored. So, I decided to stop for lunch at one of the cute little restaurants I’d passed between the stores.  I chose a trendy Asian fusion place and got in line to wait for a table.  The hostess informed me that it would be about 10-15 minutes for a table, and I was willing to wait. I noticed a middle aged woman had come in behind me and was also waiting for a table, apparently also by herself. 

After about 10 minutes, the waitress came back to seat me, and I felt a little nudge from God-you know the one.  It’s that little, still, small voice that points you in a new direction or focuses you somewhere else.  This time, God oriented me toward the woman in line behind me.  She had several more minutes to wait, and here I was, ready to sit by myself at a table in a busy restaurant. 

“God, what if she wants to be left alone? What if she thinks I’m nuts?”

The still, small voice persisted.

I took my risk and turned to the woman. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

She looked at me strangely for a moment.  In that brief second, I figured that she was running through her list of excuses.  But to my surprise, she smiled and said, “Sure.”

The waitress told us we were “the cutest thing.”  I guess she didn’t see this sort of thing very often.

We got the best seat in the house.  I wonder if it was because the waitress thought we were so “cute.”  (Note to self: act or look cute, get good seats.)

The woman told me that she worked at the University of Washington, at the medical school, of all places.  One top of that, she’s a freelance writer who happens to love reading the New Yorker, and she’s traveled all over Europe.  We got along famously.  Any eavesdropper would have thought we were old friends. I’m not sure how we managed to eat any food because we were so busy chattering the whole time.

Honestly, I don’t know what God was up to with this one.  Sometimes, he reveals his purposes pretty clearly; other times, it’s anybody’s guess.  If I had to pin down his motives behind this one, I’d say that God was just showing me how much fun I could have if I was willing to trust him more, to take risks, even if I don’t know the outcome, even if my pride might get wounded or my self esteem might go a little lower. 

Maybe I also ministered to this woman in a way that I’ll never fully know this side of heaven. 

For now, I guess I’m going to continue to watch for opportunities to take God glorifying risks.  I hope that all of them turn out to be such blessings!

Dr. Memory’s Advice

So far, so good.  Four verses down, 104 left to go.  At this rate, I might finish memorizing James by the time I’m 50, but I make no promises.

I’ve enjoyed reading all your tips and tricks for memorizing scripture.  People who haven’t posted to the site have also been e-mailing, calling, and pulling me aside to give me their advice on how they memorize verses.  I’ve been assembling all of these wonderful, practical tips, and I thought I’d share some of them with you all.

First, I thought I’d share some of my husband’s advice.  I tend to forget that I live with Dr. Memory, so I thought back to his days in medical school and all the memorizing he had to do to survive those awful tests (They’re aptly called “The boards,” I think because nothing will make you “bored” like memorizing lists of random tidbits about obscure medical conditions.).

Dan had four years to find the best ways to quickly cram the most information in his brain.  The first key was using flashcards, lots and lots of flashcards.  We still have piles of flashcards filling boxes in our closet (One of these days, I’m going to dump them on his side of the bed and demand that if he wants to sleep there, he’d better get rid of the cards).  Both of us have used a few flashcards in our day, and I like them because you can reshuffle them to repeat the info in a different order or flip the cards to state the info the other way around. 

For example, with scripture verses, I’m writing the verse number on one side, and on the other, I’m writing out the full text of the verse.  At the top of the card, I’m writing the first letter of each word, as more vague reference that keeps me from looking at the entire verse.  If I’m stuck, I try to look at that first.  When I go through the cards, I’ll typically go through them by only reading the verse number side, in the order they appear in the bible.  Next, I’ll shuffle them and say the verses in a different order, to make sure that I know the verses on their own, not just in the sequence.  After that, I’ll flip over the cards and read the verse’s text and see if I can recall the reference number. 

My husband also used many mnemonic devices, word tools that helped him recall lists and complex names.  I’d often stay up late with him before tests, especially pharmacology, and help him think of very bizarre sounding acronyms that would list the types of drugs one uses to treat specific medical conditions.  If he had a list of 10 words to remember, I would take the first letter of each word and try to construct another word or make a sentence that was silly and memorable. We also used this site a lot to see if anybody else came up with good ones (click here).

With scripture memory, this sort of method would work if you had a long list of names, places, or other items to recall.  Let’s say you want to remember the fruits of the spirit.  The first letters are LJPPKGFGS.  This doesn’t make any words because there are no vowels. It’s like the Scrabble hand from hell.  Try it yourself.  Here’s a good site that finds anagrams in word scrambles (click here).  But, since this method doesn’t work very well, and you probably want to know these in order, you could always try creating a sentence, something like this: Lucy joins Peter Parker in keeping gangs from grabbing Spiderman.  That sounds like one I would make for my husband’s flashcards.

My husband’s final advice is to get up and move.  Once upon a time, I read that people remember things better if the endorphins are flowing.  I know one guy who studied his medical school texts while on the treadmill. With all that training, he ended up running a few marathons while in med school.  Dan was a bit more practical and took his flashcards out on the track in a nearby park.  He’d walk around the track, flipping through the cards, round and round.  He got to be a regular feature of the landscape, and if he happened to be out there without his cards, the neighbors asked where they were.

Feel free to send along any other memory advice you have!