Who Stole the Christ from Christmas?

At this time of year, we hear a lot of lamenting from the Christian community about how society has secularized Christmas. They make it sound like some evil secret society got together and hatched a plot to replace Jesus with Santa Claus…or should I say SATAN Claus?

Anyway, I do think society tells us to value material possessions and make sure we’re always a step ahead of our neighbors, and it’s only natural that we exhibit those values during the holidays. But I also think that everyone really wants so much more from Christmas, and it’s evident in the seasonal movies we’ve absorbed into our culture:

It’s a Wonderful Life: By seeing what it would have been like if he’d never been born, a man discovers that his life has meaning and purpose after all.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas: When the evil Grinch robs Whoville of all its holiday trimmings and presents, the community unites to discover that Christmas is really all about love.

Miracle on 34th Street: A hardened businesswoman overcomes her skepticism about Santa and decides to believe in the impossible.

A life with meaning, love as the greatest gift, and the hope to believe in miracles – these are the holiday themes we’ve embraced, that we watch over and over again, year after year. The ideals portrayed in these movies are what the world really wants Christmas to be all about. And ironically, Jesus came to make those very things possible.

So forget secularization. When it comes right down to it, I think society is actually desperate to put Christ back in Christmas. It just doesn’t know it.

My Dog Don't Know It's Christmas

This is my first Christmas as a dog owner, and apparently, I'm supposed to get him a Christmas present. Multiple friends have expressed surprise that not only did I neglect to hang a stocking for my dog, but I don't plan to wrap any gifts for him either. Call me a scrooge, but he's just a dog! His only thought when he looks at the Christmas Tree is that he wishes he could pee on it - I highly doubt he's looking for a present.

Anyway, I heard a song on XM radio that made me realize I'm not alone in my thinking. I couldn't find a recording to link to, but here are the words:


My Dog Don't Know It's Christmas
by Scott Katz

My dog don't know when it's Christmas
Despite the gift-wrapped chew toys 'round the tree.
You got the dog-star up above, poodle skirts and puppy love,
But there ain't no canine Christianity.

He knows not to piddle on the carpet,
And he knows when he must go to the vet.
He understands a Milkbone and he comprehends a snow-cone,
Yeah, but Jesus is a concept he don't get.

My dog don't know when it’s Christmas.
How could any creature be so naive?
But despite his passivity, re: the nativity
If the lord was a shepherd, he'd believe.

Despite his proclivity to dis the nativity,
If the lord was a shepherd, he'd believe.


So, to all my friends and readers who lavish presents upon your pets at Christmas, I love you dearly and I say if you enjoy it, go right ahead and stuff your personalized dog stockings to the brim! Just make sure your dog doesn't tell my dog - I don't want him to get wise!

My Story

Home Group has been pretty amazing lately. We’ve been doing a study called Contagious Christianity that helps you become open about your Faith and teaches you how to easily talk about God. Last week we learned how to tell our personal stories of how we came to Christ, and then we shared them with each other. But I was sick and didn’t get to go, so Ben said that the group was expecting me to share my story this Sunday. I thought I’d do one better and share it with the entire blogosphere:

At age 15, I started my sophomore year of high school fairly confident in my ability to manage my life. I had chosen a good group of friends, family relations were going smoothly, and it was easy for me to get good grades. I had finally even found myself a boyfriend, and with that checked off the list, I didn’t think there was anything else I really needed. I was in control, and things were going exactly according to plan.

However, around Christmas that year, my plan started falling apart. My grandmother got sick, and my mom temporarily moved to Alabama to take care of her. I stepped in to pick up some of the slack at home, especially looking out for my little brother. It was a stressful time for the entire family, and I couldn’t do anything to make it better.

With the added stress at home, my honors classes also became overwhelming. I had been managing to hang on, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t get the grades I wanted.

To top it all off, one of my close friends decided I wasn’t a good person anymore. I have no idea what I did, and she wouldn’t tell me. But she started a smear campaign and tried to turn my other friends against me too. Then my boyfriend moved away, and it wasn’t long before he stopped calling. There was nothing I could do to hold on to either of them.

I ended that year feeling completely out of control, wondering how everything had so quickly slipped out of my grasp. I had no idea how to get back on track. Then out of the blue, my best friend Shannon called and asked if I would like to go on a Mission Trip with her church youth group to do Bible camps for kids. It wasn’t something I would typically do, but then again, my typical choices hadn’t been working out so well. So I figured I didn’t have anything to lose and signed on.

At the Bible camp, one of the kids took to me immediately. His parents were going through a nasty divorce, and he was very angry and bitter. He was desperate for comfort, and for some reason, he looked to me to provide it. I was totally overwhelmed - how could I help this kid, when I couldn’t even handle my own life? So I told him that God loved him, and I shared the Gospel with him as I understood it. And suddenly, for the first time, I knew it was all true.

I realized I needed to let God control my life, because He had a good plan for me. I was flooded with an immediate sense of peace like I had never felt before, and the rush of relief was incredible. From that moment, life was never the same again.

Now, even though I still like to be in control, it’s not such a driving need. I don't feel so much pressure about my decisions anymore because I have learned to trust God and allow Him to be my guide. These days, being out of control is a good thing!

So what’s your experience? I would love you to leave a comment and tell your story too. Maybe God has changed your life like He did mine, or maybe you’re one of the many seekers who visit this site and are still trying to figure it all out. Regardless of your situation, we all have something to learn from each other. If you’re not sure how to comment, it’s explained in this post. You can even be anonymous if you want. So take a chance and share!

Wrinkles

I always planned to “grow old gracefully.” Let the gray hair and wrinkles come as they may – I’d take it all in stride with good humor, and embrace whatever face looked back at me in the mirror. Aging wouldn’t even be an issue.

Well, a few months ago I noticed the tiniest beginnings of lines around my mouth. That discovery immediately led to a more critical facial inspection, which revealed slight traces of lines around my eyes too. You have to understand, no one else would probably be able to detect even the smallest change - we’re talking miniscule lines here. But as I stood there looking in the mirror and puzzling over how this could have happened, I was suddenly hit with a stunning revelation:

“HOLY CRAP! I am going to get WRINKLES!!!!”

Thoughts of growing old gracefully went out the window. I just wanted to go out and buy the best miracle cream I could find and take a bath in it. How could this be happening to me? I guess my philosophy was really more like, “If I grow old, I’ll do it gracefully.” I hadn’t accepted that the “if” was actually a “when.”

It didn’t take me long to calm down and return to rationality. But I was still a little bummed about the whole wrinkles thing, until this weekend.

I was watching a re-run of Extreme Makeover, where “ugly” people get major plastic surgery to correct what they consider to be their physical flaws. During her initial consultation, this woman told the plastic surgeon that she was looking forward to “never having wrinkles again.” However he was quick to correct her, explaining that wrinkles come from showing facial expression, and that they would eventually come back unless she never smiled or laughed again. That started me thinking.

My life has been filled with happiness. Yes, there have been plenty of sad and difficult times, but I have spent considerably more time laughing than crying. There’s not a day that goes by in which I don’t have multiple reasons to smile, and I am grateful for it. And if wrinkles are the price I pay, then so be it.

So I will go right on living, loving, laughing and smiling, allowing all the joys of life to be written across my face. And I hope that when I die, I’ll have too many wrinkles to count and will have earned every one of them.

No Labor For Me This Weekend!

You’ve probably already figured it out by now, but it’s Labor Day Weekend! Three days off, and every clothing store is having a sale – what could be better!

I’ve got a pretty big weekend planned – a football game tonight at the high school where my husband teaches, seeing my friend Corey Crowder in concert on Saturday, Home Group on Sunday, sleeping in on Monday morning instead of dragging myself to work, and finally, to cap it all off, the Clemson vs. Florida State game on Monday night! I’m so excited!

However, it dawned on me that I’m not quite sure why I’m celebrating. A quick trip to the Department of Labor website taught me that the General Secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners, Peter McGuire, suggested the holiday in the late 1880’s as a way to honor those “who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold.” (Nice quote!)

So while I’m riding in my car, sitting under the stadium lights, enjoying amplified music, and watching ESPN on my flatscreen TV, I’ll think of all the production workers who turned technology into reality so I could have such a fun weekend. Thanks to all the Laborers of the world!

Being Constructive

Awhile back I was watching Larry King Live on CNN, and he was interviewing Duane Chapman, otherwise known as Dog the Bounty Hunter. The Dog and his family profess to be born-again Christians, and they have set themselves apart from others in their profession with their benevolent, “Christ-like” behavior toward their fugitives.

If you’ve ever seen their show, you know that the leather-clad, heavily tattooed, foul-mouthed Chapmans aren’t exactly poster-children for the Religious Right. Larry King was taking questions from viewers on this issue, and one asked if their prevalent use of four-letter words is really the best witness for Christ. The question obviously made Dog uncomfortable, and he said they were “working on it.” I watched a new episode earlier this week, and I didn’t see a bit of evidence to suggest that taming his tongue is anywhere near the top of Dog’s priorities.

One of the best parts of being a Christian is that God knows you are going to have parts of your life that aren’t exactly squeaky clean, but He loves and accepts you anyway. As the Apostle Paul said in I Corinthians 10:23, everything is permissible, just not necessarily constructive. God meets you where you are and changes you bit by bit – you don’t have to be perfect before you can have a relationship with Him. And that’s a good thing, since none of us are ever going to be perfect.

I wish that Dog had just manned up and said he wasn’t quite ready to give up the potty mouth yet. I wish he had owned up to the truth instead of skirting the issue by saying he was “working on it.”

If you know there’s an area of your life that’s not “constructive,” really examine how you feel about it. If you find you’re not ready to let it go, just be honest with yourself. Then, be honest with God and with other people. It may feel embarrassing or shameful, but you can’t expect to hold onto something you know is wrong and feel good while you do it.

If you are truly seeking God, you’ll be able to leave your unconstructive behavior behind when the time is right. Just don’t make it worse by being a liar or a hypocrite about it now.

Brevity

I'm a “get to the point” kind of person.

I try not to use a paragraph when a sentence will do, and I’ve never bought into the idea that the ability to pontificate on a given subject indicates intelligence. I often find myself wishing that people to whom I’m listening would stop beating around the bush and just say what they need to say.

This week I ran across a quote from Sophocles: “Much wisdom often goes with brevity of speech.” It brought to mind the political campaigning that’s already begun, and I had to laugh because if Sophocles is right, I’m not sure we have many wise candidates.

Anyway, Sophocles isn’t the only famous thinker who found less to be more where words are concerned. In Ecclesiastes 6:11, King Solomon said, “The more words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone?” I get so frustrated when I have listened to someone talk for half an hour, and still have no idea what he or she actually said. Or worse, when the point is made in the first 5 minutes, but I have to keep sitting there as the person rambles on, rephrasing the message and adding trivial details. (Again, politics come to mind.)

Don’t get me wrong – if truly important or interesting information is being conveyed, I want every single detail. And I will talk for hours if the conversation is helping to build a relationship, encouraging someone, or developing knowledge or insight into my or someone else’s relationship with God. But otherwise, I’d just prefer to keep quiet.

Both Sophocles and King Solomon are renowned as two of the wisest men who ever lived. You know how I think they got that way? By taking their own advice and spending less time talking and more time listening and reflecting. They probably didn't talk much, but when they did, you can bet they really had something to say.

Bring Back the Miracles

Lately I’ve been reading the Gospels of the New Testament, and as always I’m intrigued by the many “miraculous signs and wonders” Jesus performed during His ministry on Earth. He turned water into wine, calmed a raging sea, walked on water, and fed thousands of people with only a few loaves and fishes, not to mention the everyday activity of healing the sick and disabled. Jesus’ miracles were a highly effective tool for convincing the people of the day that He truly was the Christ. Even after Jesus was crucified, the Disciples went right on healing people in His name.

All that’s fine and good, but here’s what bugs me about the whole thing: Why, when the world is so sick and lost, when there are so many “idols” to turn to in place of God and people seek Him less than ever before, did the miracles stop?

I guess there’s always the possibility that those stories you see about the statues of Christ that cry blood aren’t hoaxes, and maybe Benny Hinn really can heal people. And who knows – maybe it really was God who burned the image of the Virgin Mary onto that lady in Florida’s grilled cheese sandwich.

But I just can’t buy it. I don’t think God would allow people to profit financially from His miracles, which seems to be standard practice in these kinds of cases. And honestly, I just don’t think God is that lame and cheesy.

And even if Jesus came back today and started performing the same miracles He did before, I doubt that would work either. We’d write Him off as a skilled illusionist, or Science would devise a method to explain it all away. Today’s society is way too jaded to take anything at face value, and much too “intelligent” to accept anything on faith.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I’ve decided that God didn’t retire from the miracle business at all; He just changed his tactics.

A friend of mine turned her back on God and was in such a deep pit of depression and despair, it seemed that she’d never make it out. No one could get through to her, and no one could help her. No pills could stop the hurt. Her life crumbled around her, and she and those who loved her were powerless to stop it. I feared she would give up. But one day, she suddenly woke up with the strength and determination to not only keep going, but to change things for the better, fight to regain what she’d lost, and to make a difference with her life. To me, that was a miracle.

And I know that countless others could tell similar stories - women who suddenly find themselves pregnant though the doctors said it was hopeless; marriages that overcome infidelity and separation to blossom; drug addicts who beat the odds and kick their habits; newborn babies initially given weeks to live who grow up to see adulthood; “prodigal sons” who come home to their parents– the list could go on and on.

We’ve got technology and modern medicine to meet our every physical need, but I bet all of us have prayed for an emotional, spiritual, or personal miracle at one time or another. And I think God is ready and waiting to deliver.

God Bless America

I am not a person who gets mushy or sentimental very frequently, but there are a few things in this world that can make me get all sappy. Patriotic activities are one of them.

I can’t help but well up every time I say the Pledge of Allegiance or sing the National Anthem. Soldiers in uniform presenting the Colors get to me too, and I can barely stand to watch those Holiday messages they show on the news of soldiers overseas saying hello to their families. If I hear Taps, I’m done for. I really do love America.

This is one of my favorite waterfalls. I can come here any time I want and stay as long as I want. I don’t have to spend every waking moment trying to earn money to sustain myself, and I don’t have to worry that my home and family will be in danger if I’m not there to protect them. While I’m at the falls, I don’t have to worry about being attacked by terrorists, and I know that when I’m ready to leave, no one will have put a bomb in my car. True, there is a chance that all these things could happen. But it’s just possible – not probable.

America is an amazing country, and the freedoms we have here should not be taken for granted. And I’m most grateful for the freedom to pursue my relationship with Jesus Christ, who provides the greatest source of liberty.

Jesus said, "If you stick with this, living out what I tell you, you are my disciples for sure. Then you will experience for yourselves the truth, and the truth will free you." (John 8:32)

Because I am free in Christ, I can wholeheartedly enjoy being free as an American. What an awesome reason to celebrate today!

Who Cares?

There are a couple of blogs I read regularly, and recently one of them reminded me of a question someone asked me a few years ago:

“What if you live your whole life as a Christian, and then when you die you find out that it’s all a lie, and there is no God?”

It’s definitely an interesting scenario to ponder.

If there’s no God, then my soul dies with my body. So it’s not like there will be some part of me that is able to look back on my life after I’m gone and feel embarrassed for getting duped. And I won’t be able to be disappointed about not going to Heaven either, since I won’t be cognizant of anything past my last breath. If there is no God, I’ll never even know it.

The question basically comes down to whether or not my life would have been better if I had not been a Christian. Did my commitment to God hinder my existence or cause me to miss out on anything?

Unimaginable. I have lived both with God and without Him, and there is nothing in this world that could make me go back. My life has been amazingly rich and fulfilling, and I don’t think there’s anything else that could have provided the joy and peace I have found in Christ. You can question Christianity all you want, but my personal experience is mine, and it’s not up for debate. If I have put my faith in something that doesn’t exist, I certainly have been rewarded for it, and I have no regrets.

So back to the original question – what if God turns out to be a sham? My answer was and is, “WHO CARES?”

To Drink or Not to Drink?

Whenever I’m traveling on business, (like this week,) I generally end up going out to eat with other people in the evenings or participating in some other social event. Inevitably I run into the same trouble every time – should I join in with everyone else and have a drink?

In general, I’m not much of a drinker. I don’t see anything wrong with it (provided no one is getting out of control,) but it’s just not my speed. I do enjoy having a quiet cocktail with a close group of friends though.

But when I’m doing a work thing, I generally steer clear. Things tend to get magnified when they are retold the next day, and I am especially susceptible to that phenomenon because I am so much younger than most of the rest of my peers. Plus, people tend to make dumb comments like telling the waiter to check my ID, and I can definitely do without that.

However, I wonder if I end up sending a message I don’t intend? Do people think I’m a snob? Also, many of them know I am a Christian – do they think that’s why I don’t drink, and do they think I am judging them because they do? That is the absolute last thing I would want.

I just can’t seem to figure out the middle ground on this one. Any thoughts?

Paint Me A Masterpiece

from the book Orbiting the Giant Hairball by Gordon MacKenzie

In your mind, conjure an image of the Mona Lisa. Visualize that masterpiece's subtleties of hue and tone as clearly as you can.

Next, shift to the image of a paint-by-numbers Mona Lisa. Envision the flat, raw colors meeting hard-edged, one against the other.

Now, let me relate a fantasy about masterpieces, paint by numbers and you. It goes like this:

Before you were born God came to you and said:

Hi there! I just dropped by to wish you luck. And to assure you that you and I will be meeting again soon. Before you know it.

You're heading out on an adventure that will be filled with fascinating experiences. You'll start out as a tiny speck floating in an infinite, dark ocean, quite saturated with nutrients. So you won't have to go looking for food or a job or anything like that. All you'll have to do is float in the darkness.

And grow incredibly. And change miraculously.

You'll sprout arms and legs. And hands and feet. And fingers and toes. As if from nothing, your head will take form. Your nose, your mouth, your eyes and ears will emerge.

As you continue to grow bigger and bigger, you will become aware that this dark oceanic environment of yours--which, when you were tiny, seemed so vast--is now actually cramped and confining. That will lead you to the unavoidable conclusion that you're going to have to move to a bigger place.

After much groping about in the dark, you will find an exit. The mouth of a tunnel. "Too small," you'll decide. "Couldn't possible squeeze through there." But there will be no other apparent way out. So, with primal spunk, you will take on your first "impossible" challenge and enter the tunnel.

In doing so, you will be embarking on a brutal, no-turning-back, physically exhausting, claustrophobic passage that will introduce you to pain and fear and hard physical labor. It will seem to take forever. But mysterious undulations of the tunnel itself will help squirm you through. And, finally, after what will seem like interminable striving, you will break through to a blinding light.

Giant hands will pull you gently, but firmly, into an enormous room. There will be several huge people, called adults, huddling around you, as if to greet you. If it is an old fashioned place, one of these humongous people may hold you upside down by the legs and give you a swat on the backside to get you going. All of this will be what the big people on the otherside call being born. For you, it will be only the first of your new life's many exploits.

God continues: I was wondering, while you're over there on the other side, would you do me a favor? "Sure," you chirp.

Would you take this artist's canvas with you and paint a masterpiece for me? I'd really appreciate that. Beaming, God hands you a pristine canvas. You roll it up, tuck it under your arm and head off on your journey.

Your birth is just as God had predicted, and when you come out of the tunnel into the bright room, some doctor or nurse looks down at you in amazement and gasps: "Look! The little kid's carrying a rolled up artist's canvas!" Knowing that you do not yet have the skills to do anything meaningful with your canvas, the big people take it away from you and give it to society for safekeeping until you have acquired the prescribed skills requisite to the canvas's return.

While society is holding this property of yours, it cannot resist the temptation to unroll the canvas and draw pale blue lines and little blue numbers all over it's virgin surface.

Eventually, the canvas is returned to you, it's rightful owner. However, it now carries the implied message that if you will paint inside the blue lines and follow the instructions of the little blue numbers your life will be a masterpiece. And that is a lie.

For more than 50 years I worked on my paint-by-numbers creation. With uneven, but persistent diligence, I dipped an emaciated paint-by-numbers brush into color no. 1 and painstakingly painted inside each little blue-bordered area marked 1. Then on to 2 and 3 and 4 and so on.

Sometimes, during restive periods of my life, I would paint, say the 12 spaces before the 10 spaces (a token rebellion against overdoses of linearity). More than once, I painted beyond a line and, feeling embarrassed, would try to wipe off the errant color or cover it with another before anyone might notice my lack of perfection.

From time to time, though not often, someone would complement me, unconvincingly, on the progress of my "masterpiece." I would gaze at the richness of others' canvases. Doubt about my own talent for painting gnawed at me. Still, I continued to fill in the little numbered spaces, unaware of, or afraid to look at, any real alternative.

Then there came a time, after half a century of daubing more or less inside the lines, that my days were visited by traumatic events. The dividends of my noxious past came home to roost, and the myth of my life began horrifically to come unglued. I pulled back from my masterpiece-in-the-works and saw it with emerging clarity.

It looked awful. The stifled strokes of paint had nothing to do with me. They did not illustrate who I am or speak of who I could become. I felt duped, cheated, ashamed--anguished that I had wasted so much canvas, so much paint. I was angry that I had been conned into doing so. But that is the past. Passed.

Today, I wield a wider brush--pure ox hide bristle. And I'm swooping it through the sensuous goo of Cadminium yellow, Alzarian Crimson or Ultramarine Blue (not nos. 4, 13 or 8) to create the biggest, brightest, funniest, fiercest damn dragon that I can. Because that has more to do with what's inside me than some prescribed plagiarisms of somebody else's tour de force.

You have a masterpiece inside you too, you know. One unlike any that has ever been created, or ever will be. And remember: If you go to your grave without painting your masterpiece, it will not get painted. No one else can paint it. Only you.

Plenty of Selfishness to Go Around

At this point in life, God has still not revealed to me if children are in my future. As I get closer to the big 3–0, this lack of direction has become increasingly troubling for me. I find myself questioning whether it's really that God hasn’t told me to have kids, or if He has, but I don't want to listen to Him because I don’t want to give anything up.

I’ll be the first to admit that my reasons for being unenthusiastic about having children are mostly selfish. I enjoy my freedom and my discretionary income, and I’m not too excited about the bodily wear and tear that results from childbirth. I enjoy being able to invest in my friends and in my church without having to think of a child first. And I have an amazing relationship with my spouse that I don’t want to be changed by anything. I love my life just the way it is.

My husband and I were talking about this issue yesterday, and we realized we were taking for granted that having a child is a selfless thing to do. We started discussing the reasons why people have kids, and decided that selfish motives aren’t exclusive to the childfree.

If you really get down to it, the main reasons people choose to have kids seem to involve PERSONAL fulfillment! Some people want something to love that will unconditionally love them back. Others dream of reliving the joy of their own childhoods, and getting it right where their parents erred. Sadly many people have children in an attempt to fix a failing marriage, which of course never works. But in any case, even though parents certainly make sacrifices to raise their children, they do so in hopes of achieving some sort of greater reward for themselves.

Awhile back, I asked my Dad why he decided to have kids, and he answered by simply saying, “Because I wanted to be a father.” No further explanation, no stupid justifications about contributing to society or leaving a legacy for future generations. He had children because he knew that’s what would make him happy. I wish more people would be that honest.

People who have children aren’t any more special than those who don’t. They’re not on some noble mission, and they’re not martyrs. They’re not more mature or unselfish, and I shouldn’t feel inferior because I haven’t made the same life decisions as them. They have kids, and that makes them happy. I don’t have kids, and I’m very happy too. Simple as that.

I am not a bad person for enjoying my life as it is. I am not any more or less selfish than anyone else in this world, and I shouldn’t have to apologize for my choices just because they differ from the majority. I need to stop doubting myself and just listen to what God is telling me. I guess it’s pretty dumb to doubt that I’m really listening to God, just because I actually like what He’s saying!

A Win for the Wiccans

Good news for the Wiccans of the world – after a 10-year battle, the Department of Veterans Affairs has approved the Wiccan pentacle as an emblem allowed on government-issued headstones and in national cemeteries.

Several veterans’ widows brought a lawsuit against the VA through the ACLU after traditional requests to recognize the emblem were denied. Initial claims by the VA that no new requests were being approved due to a procedure evaluation were found to be false, as symbols for 6 other religions were approved between the time of the Wiccans’ initial request and the lawsuit. I find this strange - if it’s okay to memorialize someone as a follower of Seicho-No-Ie or Eckiankar, (both of which are approved non-traditional religions,) why not as a Wiccan?

There is considerable conjecture that our President’s personal feelings regarding Wiccans were the primary influence in the VA’s actions. You never know what’s true and what’s just propaganda, but regardless, it’s fairly clear that discrimination did occur.

I believe our government plays a dangerous game when it gives preference to some religions over others. I have read all the way to the end of my Bible, and I know that someday, like it or not, the “moral majority” will not exist, and Christians will be the ones wondering why we’re not being given equal rights. If we don’t treat other religions fairly now, how can we even hope for them to treat us fairly in the future?

I am so tired of people posturing about how this nation was founded on Christian values, but then trying to circumvent basic American rights such as Freedom of Speech and Separation of Church and State when upholding them is not convenient for their particular cause. Americans are free to believe in whatever god they choose, and the government shouldn’t be deciding who gets to display that belief and who doesn’t. If I don’t want to see a Wiccan pentacle on a tombstone, then I have the freedom not to look at it.

Can Two Wrongs Make A Right?

Divorce isn’t something I ever thought much about. My parents and my husband’s parents are still married, and I am nowhere close to divorce myself. It’s one of those sticky topics that I always chose not to examine especially closely, but now that I have several friends facing this tragedy, I find I can’t stop thinking about it.

Somewhere along the way, I developed the idea that divorce was flat out wrong – a sin no matter how you sliced it. It’s a concept of Christian culture that I guess I just accepted without really studying it. After all, it had never touched me before. But now that I’ve done a little research, I have gone from being sure about the subject to being thoroughly confused.

Starting with the Old Testament – Deuteronomy 24:1-4 outlines the Mosaic law on divorce. To sum up, it says that if a man gets tired of his wife and divorces her, and then she takes a second husband who also ends up divorcing her, she can’t go back to the original husband because she’s been defiled and it would be detestable to God. No mention of the original divorce being any kind of sin, and no discussion on whether or not the woman can take a different 3rd husband.

When Jesus came along, the Pharisees tried to bait him by asking if divorce was permissible, to see if he would contradict the law of Moses. Jesus told them that Moses allowed them to divorce because their hearts were hard, and said in Mark 10:11-12, “A man who divorces his wife and marries someone else is unfaithful to his wife. A woman who divorces her husband and marries again is also unfaithful.” Okay – so this passage seems to say that remarrying means committing the sin of adultery. But what if you get divorced and then stay single? Is that still a sin?

Paul sort of addresses that issue in I Corinthians 7:18 when he says, “To the married I give this command (not I, but the Lord): A wife must not separate from her husband. But if she does, she must remain unmarried or else be reconciled to her husband. And a husband must not divorce his wife.” Why doesn’t he stop after telling people not to separate? If you divorce but don’t get remarried, are you sin-free? Or if you separate but never get an official divorce, is that okay?

The Bible isn’t as clear cut on divorce as I was always lead to believe. So are my friends who have separated from their husbands doing the right thing? There’s one thing the Bible does make PERFECTLY clear - it’s not my place to judge.

If God didn’t spell out every detail surrounding divorce, maybe that means it’s not a black and white issue after all - His will may be different for different people. Romans 2:15-16 says, “People who are guided by the Spirit can make all kinds of judgments, but they cannot be judged by others. The Scriptures ask, ‘Has anyone ever known the thoughts of the Lord or given him advice?’ But we understand what Christ is thinking.”

I have no right to tell others what God’s will is for their lives. How could I be so arrogant as to believe that God would tell me what He wanted my friends to do instead of telling them? Maybe their real sin was disobeying God and marrying the wrong person, and divorce is a step back to His path for them. Maybe sometimes two wrongs do make a right. I don’t know, because IT’S NOT MY JOB TO JUDGE!

I have been truly disgusted by the “Christians” who have had the gall to judge my friends under the guise of proclaiming God’s will. Why is it that people who have been nothing more than casual acquaintances suddenly think it’s okay to call them up and tell them what horrible sinners they are and what they should do to fix their lives? Whatever happened to those without sin being the only ones authorized to cast stones?

To help my friends, I just need to pray that they will have the discernment and strength to follow the will of the Lord, WHATEVER it may be. You never know how God will work in people’s lives, and I truly believe he can use ANYTHING to bring his children closer to him. Even divorce.

They Said WHAT?

One of the special joys of being an HR Manager is that every employee who’s a little “off” ends up in your office at one point or another. Employees have told me some crazy things over the years, so I thought it might be fun to share some of my favorites:

“You don’t have children? What – you don’t like kids? Baby Hater! I knew there was evil in this place!” – said by a woman who quit on her first day. Apparently she felt she needed a better reason than that she just didn’t like the job.

“Satan is using you to ruin my life! You're a tool of the devil!” – said by a man I was terminating for goofing off instead of working.

“I need some time off because my mother was kidnapped by Colombian guerrillas.” Sure…

“You should stop trying so hard to help people. Nobody cares when you’re nice to them, and it doesn’t make a difference. You’re wasting your time.”

That one was said recently, and it has been weighing fairly heavily on my mind. Am I wasting my time? Because that guy was right – I try extremely hard to make things better for my employees, but they don’t really seem to care. If I do something fantastic for people, they remain silent. But if I have to do something they don’t like, you’d better believe I hear about it!

The guy who made the comment was actually trying to be kind. He felt sorry for me because I continue to carry what he sees as false hope. And I have to say that sometimes, I am very tempted to follow his advice. It would be so much easier to turn myself off, slip into complacency, and stop caring so I don’t keep getting disappointed. But I just can’t do it.

Colossians 3:23 says, “Work hard and cheerfully at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.” As low as I get sometimes, I am always eventually reminded that I am really working for God, and His approval is all I should need.

I hope things at my job get better, but regardless, I will keep working doggedly and taking on more responsibility, even though I know there won’t be more compensation. I will continue to throw myself out there to be unappreciated and abused. I guess most people will think I’m nuts, but maybe someone will be curious enough to ask why I keep pounding away. And then maybe I’ll get to tell them about my Lord, who makes it all worthwhile.

Wild and Crazy Gal!

Recently I came across an article on eDiets.com that really grabbed my attention - “How Wild Women Stay Thin” by Dr. Matthew Anderson.

When I think “Wild Women,” I think of young Hollywood – Paris Hilton, Tara Reid, Lindsey Lohan, and the like. I always assumed they stayed thin through a strict regiment of binging and purging, made palatable through a steady stream of alcohol. But apparently, attitude is the key.

According to the article, “A life too focused on domestic duties and expectations can drain a woman of her instinctual wildness, passion, and creativity. Too many women control their wildness with comfort food, and thus create extra pounds instead of aliveness.”

I have instinctual wildness? Really? Because I’m pretty sure my natural instincts are to do the exact OPPOSITE of wild. I have no desire to drive too fast, drink too much, remove my clothing in public, or do anything else that would get me in the next Girls Gone Wild video. But if I can magically get to a size 2, I really want to find and release this wildness. Fortunately, Dr. Anderson provides some guidelines:

1. “Acknowledge and accept the fact that instinctual, healthy wildness is an essential part of your being.”

Okay – here goes: I’m wild, and it’s healthy!!! Whoopee!!!!

2. “Get a journal and begin to list and describe how your wildness could be expressed. This exercise will help you moderate the anxiety that may initially arise when you approach these energies in yourself. Remember, your wildness is not inherently dangerous, but you may experience some discomfort and you begin to get to know it.”

Discomfort is right – does this tip sound a little sketchy, or is it just me? Exactly what is “inner wildness” again?

3. Read some book about running with wolves.

I thought it was dancing…whatever.

4. “Start every day with the following question: How can I express my wildness today?”

I have to express it EVERY DAY? I’m not sure being wild is going to jive with being a young professional. Well, maybe I could wear brown shoes with black pants or sign an important document with a purple pen. Would that cut it?

Time to face the facts – wild is just not my style. I love my life and I have a lot of fun… in a calm, laid-back, unassuming kind of way. I guess I will have to stick to diet and exercise and leave the dancing on tables to Miss Lohan. Here’s to the Un-Wild Women!

DNA - The Language of God

As it turns out, the head of the Human Genome Project, Dr. Francis Collins, is a Christian! Go here to check out a commentary he wrote for CNN describing his journey to Christ and why he finds no conflict between Science and Religion. There are several comments following the piece that are interesting and thought provoking as well. Enjoy!

The Easter Bunny...Cute, or EVIL?

Well, let me start off by apologizing for my posting infrequency of late. Work has been crazy, and then we had family birthdays followed by the Easter holiday, which brings me to the subject of this blog:

My brother-in-law and his girlfriend decided to dye some Easter eggs this year, and while doing so, they got into a heated debate over a random but thought-provoking question: “Could Jesus have ever had an Easter Egg hunt?” Apparently it was a very spirited discussion, which was finally settled once they decided to ask the source of all knowledge…Google.

As it turns out, Easter is an ancient pagan holiday that got its start with one of Noah’s great-grandsons, Nimrod, and his wife, Semiramis. Nimrod became a highly influential political force and built some of the greatest cities of the era, including Babel. He rebelled against God and built a religion around himself.

When Nimrod died, Semiramis deified him as the Sun-god, and he later became known as “Baal,” worshiped prominently in the Old Testament. Sometime later when Semiramis gave birth to an illegitimate son, Tammuz, she claimed that he was supernaturally conceived and that he was the savior God had promised. Legend further claims that Tammuz was killed by a wild boar and went into the underworld, but his mother’s weeping resurrected him as the season of Spring. Does any of this sound familiar?

Over time, Semiramis became deified as the goddess of Spring and fertility. She was originally called “Ishtar,” which evolved into Eostre, Astarte, Ostera, Eastre, and finally…Easter!

Next, enter the Bunny and the eggs. The rabbit is a notoriously fertile creature, and was the symbol for the Mother Goddess. The egg was also a sacred symbol for the Babylonians, who believed a fable about a giant egg that fell from heaven and hatched Easter herself.

So if Easter is a pagan goddess and rabbits and eggs are her symbols, how did Easter become a Christian holiday? It seems that pagans were willing to give up their gods to become Christians, but not the festivities surrounding them. So to help assimilate mainstream culture, Christians simply turned the pagan fertility festivals into celebrations of the resurrection of Christ – thus, Easter as we know it was born!

Back to the original question – could Jesus have hunted Easter Eggs? I’d say he could have, but there’s no way he actually did. He would have emphatically rejected anything related to false gods or idol worship, so egg hunting would definitely have been out.

So did the Easter Bunny hop straight out of Hell? Should we head down to the PAAS egg dye factory and hold an exorcism? Nah. Easter is just another example of how society is constantly changing around us without our even noticing – yesterday’s pagan sacrament is today’s good clean family fun.

Waiting for the World to Change?

I generally like John Mayer, but his song “Waiting for the World to Change” gets under my skin. I like the music and the general vibe of the song, but the lyrics kind of bother me.

The gist of the song seems to be that because his generation (which is also my generation) has very little chance of making a change in society, we should sit back and wait until the Baby Boomers die off and our generation “rules the population.” This smacks of apathy to me, which I can’t stand.

However, I am a big believer in focusing your efforts where they have the greatest chance of making a positive change, which kind of leaves me in the middle of the road where politics are concerned. I have definite opinions on the hot issues, but I don’t get particularly passionate about any of them because it seems like wasted energy. And I don’t get into any of the news shows, because I am fully aware that at the end of the day, it’s more about ratings than “fair and balanced” journalism. I don’t get irritated about it though - I’m content to take what I see with a grain of salt and move on.

I have a friend who is always writing to her congressman, or state representative, or mayor, or WHOEVER has influence over an issue she cares about. I think it’s really cool that she gets involved, and I wish I was motivated to do the same. But because I feel that there’s little chance that my letter would make a difference, I don’t bother. At the end of the day, I am perfectly happy to exercise my right to vote every chance I get, and leave it at that.

I guess the song bothers me because I don’t want to admit that it offers a more accurate description of me than I would like. Sometimes I fancy myself to be more worldly than I actually am where politics are concerned, and I don’t want to be reminded that when it comes right down to it, I really don’t care as much as I’d like to think. I find myself putting a lot of time and energy into the people around me, and putting my concern for the world at large on the backburner.

I guess it all comes back to moderation. You can’t spend all your free time doing protest marches, but you can’t refuse to care either. Thanks to John Mayer for helping me sort all this out.