Thursday, September 29, 2016

Why Me?




She came to a complete stop at the light and began to wait patiently for it to change. Immediately she noticed a strange sound, a sound that came from the outside of her car. 

“Oh, no.” she moaned. “Now what is wrong with my car?” She rolled down the window of her car to hear it more clearly, then realized that the noise was coming from the car sitting next to her. 

“Thank God, it’s their car, not mine.” Instantly, she was struck with the thought, “Why would I wish bad things to happen to someone else rather than me? What makes me so special that bad things shouldn’t happen to me?” 

She repented on the spot as the light turned green, and, as she pulled away, she said a prayer for the person in the other car.* 


(True story from my friend, Linda.)

Friday, September 23, 2016

Bouncing

I have this dog. She's just the sweetest dog you could ever ask for. She is so devoted to me, and when I'm away from home for days at a time she tends to get moody. Her name is Tinker, but I misnamed her. I should have called her Odie. If you remember the bouncy dog, Odie from the cartoon strip Garfield, then you'll understand that Tinker has a lot of energy. She bounces everywhere, runs fast as a greyhound, though she's a small Rat Terrier, and is almost uncontainable. She can walk backwards or sideways across a large room, and she can spin continually for minutes. She's a precious lover, but there's one thing Tinker doesn't like, and that is to be held which takes her out of control of her situation.

I have this bed. Most people would have to have a step to help them into the bed, it's that high. Lately, Tinker has been struggling to jump high enough to get onto the bed. She's almost thirteen years old. She still has her spryness, but she's not comfortable with her jump anymore, and she will bounce and bounce, but not trust her legs enough to take her up. So, I watch her bounce and bounce, her head appearing like a heartbeat at the end of my bed, but no body comes with it. Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Periodically I will stop, call her to my side of the bed and offer to lift her up, but she always refuses. She even comes to me on her own, but when I reach down to lift her, she runs away. Tinker needs to do this on her own, just as she has always done. But she can't. She needs help. And she won't take it. Bounce, bounce, bounce. She wants me, she wants to be with me, but not enough to give up and let me help her. Tinker's independence keeps her from the happiness of being near to the one who loves her so much.

And there I was, bouncing. But I'm so glad I got over being like Tinker. I bounced and bounced until I was almost 40 years old. I knew God and Jesus were up there, calling to me, watching for me, and I wanted to be with Him. I talked about Him. I had read a lot about Him. I knew a lot of the things He had said in the book. But, if I let Him pick me up, I wouldn't have control anymore. I wouldn't be able to do the things I thought I wanted to do, and that wasn't acceptable to me. Bounce, bounce, bounce. I saw Him there everytime my head popped up. And He would reach down to lift me up, and I would run away, as fast as I could. I knew He was there, but I wouldn't let Him have me.

Lucifer was kicked out of God's kingdom for being so self-centered and independent. He wanted to be in charge, like God, and God called that "sin" and sent him and his groupies packing. But Lucifer was an angel, a heavenly being, and not nearly as dear to the Father as we are. God loves us, and tolerates us for much longer than we deserve, and He waits patiently and devotedly for us to stop bouncing, and let Him lift us up to rescue us from those vain attempts to save ourselves.

Poor Tinker. My sweet little dog chooses to stay separate from me. She just goes on bouncing, needlessly, stubbornly, and in vain.