Ruminating:
I'm a pretty religious Bible reader, no pun intended and no offense taken; I like to be holy and this seems to be one of the surest ways to attain holiness without too much work. I pull it out every morning over my peanut butter on wheat toast or every afternoon over my peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread or every evening over my peanut butter on fugi apples. I read it, I meditate on it, I quote it, and most of the time I really believe it too.
But this morning I read this verse:
...Like newborn babies, long for the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow in respect to salvation. I Peter 2.2
and I was suddenly so struck by the fact that we are admonished to long for the word, not to better ourselves, not to glean principles and gather facts, but so that we might grow in respect to salvation. That is, that the more we long for the word, the more we long for the Lord, and the more we long for the Lord, the bigger He becomes to us, and the bigger He becomes to us, the sheer fact that we've been offered salvation is magnanimous. We can't help but respect salvation when we're soaked in the word--life, principles, facts, proverbs, and parables all pale in comparison to the greatness of His goodness in receiving us into His salvation plan.
Tomorrow, over peanut butter and whatever, my Bible reading will be a little less religious and a little more grateful.
Rejuvinating:
Yesterday a few friends and I celebrated the last moments of Easter break by going to local bookstore and curling up in overstuffed chairs. My find was off of the dollar shelf and a fine find it was: A Growing Gardener by Abbie Zabar.
I remember reading an article written by Abbie Zabar in a magazine a year or so ago, but it couldn't have prepared me for the jubilance of this book! Filled with pencil and pen and ink illustrations, delightful calligraphy, and beautifully penned prose about the adventures of rooftop gardening in New York City, I was completely engulfed in the book for the remainder of the evening. It is like reading an artist's journal and inspiring to me in more ways than one.
The one dismal fact is that there is a reason for books like this being on the dollar shelf at local bookstores: it is a rare person who is interested in spending the original price of $22.50 on a book of this type. So much for writing a delightful book about gardening. . .
Relearning:
In about two weeks I'll be moving, again. If there is a lesson the Lord wants me to learn above all other lessons, I know it is this: Do not make this world your home.
As it is, I haven't had the chance to do so in the past five years. Which is fine, I need to learn that lesson a lot. This time I'm moving off campus and into a house with some friends of mine. They are godly young women who value the Lord and His work in their character above all else, and I so appreciate that. I wish you all could know them.
Realizing:
A friend and I had a brief sleepy conversation in the car the other day. (We were all exhausted; playing hard and talking hard does that to you.) I was, once again, expressing my doubts about my degrees of choice: how beautiful creativity looks on paper and how impractical creative degrees look on paper. How will I ever use this schooling in a way that glorifies God and is practical? He, who has held a creative degree for two years, resisted my negativity with a reply that I've been thinking about the past few days: simply because we chose to get a degree in one thing that doesn't mean that all the rest of the gifts in us will lie unused.
I forget that a lot. Thinking that the only way I'll ever be successful in life is by doing the single thing I came to school to learn. If that were the case the gospels probably would have never been written by men who were learned in mathematics and medicine. If my life's purpose was contained in the paper I'll get in a year declaring I've completed a program, I would forever be constrained by that aperture.
And He wants so much more for us.
8 comments:
I love posts like this! It makes you feel a little bit closer...
Funny. Cause when I post stuff like this it's just a reminder to me of how far away I am. But, I forget, the purpose of this site is for you, not for me =)
Lore (when i said your name right there i said it as it phonetically sounds), If you ever want to write a beautiful book about gardens, please do. It doesn't matter if it ends up on the dollar shelf, because you have done something which some one will appreciate just as much as you appreciate Abbie Zabar's book.
The secret, Mike Baker, to saying my name the way it looks phonetically is spell it the way I spell it to only the people I let call me Lor. L O R. It becomes a nickname then, instead of a mispronounced name. See what I mean?
Someday I'll write a book about tulips and daisies and sticks and tube vases and all the friendships in between.
Sounds like a wonderful book Lor.
wait, i thought you hated peanut-butter. or i thought i remembered bean saying that. like something traumatic happened to you as a baby, which caused you to hate peanut-butter, and that all your sibling hated something different because of different baby experiences. obviously i am mistaken - i guess it was one of your brothers who hated the peanut-butter.
wow, that was a long time ago. you and she and sarah were helping my dad with the hay. i can't believe i even remember that.
What a good memory all of my friends have. what a poor memory I have!
Yes, Leslie, for many year, ere, most of my life, I hated the taste, texture, and smell of that butter of legumes. But here, in my digression of cheap college living, I find that peanut butter is a cheap way to get all the protein I think I need, thrice a day.
Leslie is amazing. I only remember that haying experience when she mentioned it again..and it all washed back over me like a wave that has been long out to sea...
incredible. what days. yes, what days. I'm so glad we're now on the same side of the peanut butter line, and that you have come out so publicly about it. You do me proud.
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