It was great to see all of you this morning. I want you to know how much you are appreciated. Quite simply, Marathon would not work without your dedication and service.
Brad Williams and I were talking the other night about how we tend to live our lives in a self-centered fashion. I told him that sometimes when I stop to think about it, I realize that I've been living as if life were a book all about me, and everyone else is just smaller characters in the book that were written in to give it more color.
People who become self-centered lose contact with the outside world. They spend all of their time and energy worrying about bills, friends, work, or even play. If we were to take the time to stop all of that, we could see that it's a big world out there - and it reflects the character of God.
The wonderful thing about service at Marathon, is that it allows us to forget about those things once in a while, and allow ourselves to become involved in the lives of people who have equally bad situations, to our own. To open up, look outside of our tiny little worlds, and let other people matter.
When we take a bigger view of things, God will give us more of His Grace and Love to share with others. We'll find ourselves responding to their needs; we'll find ourselves angered by injustice to others, and perhaps we'll even be moved enough to do something about it.
Self esteem is overrated. Christ never asked us to esteem ourselves. I think that if Christ were asked, He might say that it would be a wonderful thing if we forgot ourselves.
Christianity isn't about being self-sacrificing - it's about being self-forgetting. Forget yourself once in a while, and open your eyes. Focus on this big, beautiful world God has made. As you walk around, learn to identify some of the plants that you pass. At night, learn to identify every constellation in the sky. Get to know birds by their feathers, flight patterns and songs. Introduce yourself to your neighbors, or the lady you're in line with at Bi-Lo. It really is a big world out there - and it really does reflect the character of God. Let go of yourself - and God will show you a whole new world.
Be God's!
Robert
Showing posts with label Unsolicited Advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unsolicited Advice. Show all posts
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Ongoing Repairs
I woke up on Saturday morning to frozen water pipes, and knew that my agenda had been set for the day. If you have read my blog for awhile you’ll know that any home repair project usually takes me all day, not due to the difficulty of the job at hand, but due to the lack of expertise in the hands doing the job. Still, I occasionally attempt to make repairs, and sometimes even improvements.
Our house is not a mansion; it’s more like me - sort of small to medium, with more of a sturdy build than any graceful elegance, and with a definite mind of its own. Like me it is resistant to change; even openly hostile to my ideas of what it ought to be. But slowly, surely, and occasionally even patiently I am enlightening it, changing its self-concept, convincing it that it is not an ugly, old house - it is a great space that I would like to inhabit and be on friendly terms with - a space full of promise and beauty and order and life.
I suspect that it wants to cooperate, but it's hard to trust in your builder, so I must be patient. Whoever it was that shaped this place before we came along did so with some pretty big nails, deep cuts, hard hammers and rough saws. And sometimes in the heat of the toil of my labor I give in to fits of selfish rage - frustration more over my lack of skill than over the house’s lack of progress.
Still, I am strangely moved by the place and I proclaim the gospel to it softly. I say, "I know how it hurts to be torn up. I am often choked on the litter left by my own remodeling. I know what it's like to settle into the despair of believing that you are wasted space. I have felt the blows of heavy hammers that nailed me to a sense of uselessness. I have been shaped by some pretty careless workers who came to the task of making me and lacked the craftsmanship or artistry to do so. Even worse, much of the damage and decay that I suffer from was self inflicted. I know the pain of wanting to be changed and yet being distrustful of changes, of wanting to be worked on, but being suspicious of the intentions of the Worker. But here is some good news:
He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Phil 1:6
Now THAT is good news. However messy we may be now, however confusing and scary it appears, however endless the task may seem, we will some day be glorious, beautiful, and alive!
There is much tearing out to do - a lot to give up. No thin coat of new paint, no shallow, petty piety will do. It's not good enough to cover up imperfection, it must be corrected. Art, beauty, function - these things take time. They may indeed take until the end of the age. But we are not wasted space, we are temples of a Being greater than ourselves, temples being built to be inhabited and brought to Life.
Though we may not understand the process, our Builder does. We are being made by a Master Carpenter. We are His workmanship and the place where He lives, and we can never give up, because He certainly never will.
Our house is not a mansion; it’s more like me - sort of small to medium, with more of a sturdy build than any graceful elegance, and with a definite mind of its own. Like me it is resistant to change; even openly hostile to my ideas of what it ought to be. But slowly, surely, and occasionally even patiently I am enlightening it, changing its self-concept, convincing it that it is not an ugly, old house - it is a great space that I would like to inhabit and be on friendly terms with - a space full of promise and beauty and order and life.
I suspect that it wants to cooperate, but it's hard to trust in your builder, so I must be patient. Whoever it was that shaped this place before we came along did so with some pretty big nails, deep cuts, hard hammers and rough saws. And sometimes in the heat of the toil of my labor I give in to fits of selfish rage - frustration more over my lack of skill than over the house’s lack of progress.
Still, I am strangely moved by the place and I proclaim the gospel to it softly. I say, "I know how it hurts to be torn up. I am often choked on the litter left by my own remodeling. I know what it's like to settle into the despair of believing that you are wasted space. I have felt the blows of heavy hammers that nailed me to a sense of uselessness. I have been shaped by some pretty careless workers who came to the task of making me and lacked the craftsmanship or artistry to do so. Even worse, much of the damage and decay that I suffer from was self inflicted. I know the pain of wanting to be changed and yet being distrustful of changes, of wanting to be worked on, but being suspicious of the intentions of the Worker. But here is some good news:
He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Phil 1:6
Now THAT is good news. However messy we may be now, however confusing and scary it appears, however endless the task may seem, we will some day be glorious, beautiful, and alive!
There is much tearing out to do - a lot to give up. No thin coat of new paint, no shallow, petty piety will do. It's not good enough to cover up imperfection, it must be corrected. Art, beauty, function - these things take time. They may indeed take until the end of the age. But we are not wasted space, we are temples of a Being greater than ourselves, temples being built to be inhabited and brought to Life.
Though we may not understand the process, our Builder does. We are being made by a Master Carpenter. We are His workmanship and the place where He lives, and we can never give up, because He certainly never will.
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