Tag: Jesus

Inspirational

Kinked Links and God’s Messy, Knotted up Favorites

Jana Greene6 Comments

By: Jana Greene

Having just finished a fantastic book that talked about – among many other things – whether Christians should “keep it real” with the world, I felt as though I should blog about my entanglement. Not because it’s so interesting that a middle-aged woman would get so worked up about what amounts to normal, first-world problems, but because I wanted to share a vision that God is giving me to deal with feeling this way. (Spoiler: it isn’t His magically making things perfect….that miracle is for the next world, not this one).

When I went to bed last night, my More Spiritual Self was kinked up.

After instigating a mild argument with my husband, I had tried to sleep. When that failed, I tried to pray. Fitfully, I asked God would He please give me a break here?  I know we are not supposed to let the sun go down on our anger, but I am clearly in the right!

That small, still voice didn’t chastise me anymore. Still, I quit trying to pray because I was so out-of-sorts and jumbled up, I couldn’t tell where one request started and another whiny demand ended.  Frustrated, I tossed and turned all night. Tomorrow will be better, I told myself.

But this morning, nothing in my closet fit me – The Fat Fairy neglected to visit me during the night to relieve the body-issue angst that is the hallmark of my Selfish Self. (If she would only come and take my fat away while I was sleeping and leave money in it’s place, it would solve TWO problems simultaneously!) All day, worry entangled me. Issues big and small (and all out of my control) tormented me and I walked around in a cloud of menopausal grump.

By noon, I had myself so knotted up with stress that I broke out in tears at Costco while waiting to purchase toilet paper and cat food. The check-out girl was very friendly, in a “I’ve no idea what to do about this” way, which made me cry harder because I felt sorry for her. She didn’t tell me to have a nice day.

But on the way home from Costco, I had a random memory about a short exchange between my daughter and I earlier.  When I had taken her to school that morning, I complimented her on her outfit (which really was lovely) and she held out her necklace for me to see and said, “It’s my favorite.”

I also remembered that it was the same gold-toned necklace with beads and feathers on it  that sat on our kitchen table for a week, knotted up in a ball. My daughter had gotten it tangled up at the bottom of a bag and asked me to unravel it, which I’d tried to do several times.

“You should really take better care of your stuff,” I had told her, when she’d given it to me and asked me to fix it.

And each time I would try to untangle it, the frustration mounted. Within minutes of not being able to tell where one link started and another began, I’d leave the project out of sorts, the necklace jumbled up worse than before. She’s just going to have to throw it out…it’s unsalvageable.

As a last resort,  I enlisted the help of my husband, who patiently untangled the entire chain and left it for my daughter to find on the kitchen table. He didn’t fuss at her for letting it get that way, he just solved the problem behind the scenes.  Which brings me back to today, when she wore her favorite piece of jewelry restored to it’s former glory.

I’m trying to untangle my chain, I realized. I’m knotted in a ball and don’t even know what to pray for.

“Perhaps,” said my More Spiritual Self. “You should give the big ball of it to God and let him untangle it.” And my Selfish Self, after reeling from the sting that my husband would be God in this analogy, had to concur that I have to bring my anxiety, pain and restlessness while I am still frustrated. Nothing is unsalvageable to God, but when I try to untangle myself, I make the knot bigger. He will be untangling  my messes  all the days of my life, but I have to leave it on the kitchen table, so to speak – and not as a last resort.

Sometimes I fail to take my issues to Him because I know He has every right to say, “You should take better care of your stuff” and I’m afraid He will.

But He never does, He just loves.

I’d like to say that VOILA! I am in a fantastic mood now that I had an epiphany, but I’m trying to “keep it real” here.  I can tell you that this afternoon, I’m not crying anymore and that when I got home from Costco, I broke down and changed into sweatpants with an elastic waistband. I texted my awesome husband that I love him twice today and I am still sober, which doesn’t seem like it should be a big deal after eleven and a half years of not drinking, but trust me – sometimes it still is. All of these things (yes, even elastic waistbands!) are blessings.

And God is still on the throne and loves us even though we are messy, knotted-up things.

We’re His favorites.

Spiritual

Are Christians already being persecuted?

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I don’t often link The Beggar’s Bakery to the blog I write for at WilmingtonFAVS.com, but today I wanted to share the post with my readers here. The WilmingtonFAVS blog is called “Redemption Feast”.  God bless you and yours, and please share the link with others who might be interested in the sacrifice of a person’s right to hold and practice Christian views in the name of “tolerance”.  (Oh, and GOD BLESS AMERICA!)

http://wilmingtonfavs.com/blogs/jana-greene/christians-and-the-tolerance-tide

Inspirational

The Church in Us

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Wall painting at Lifepoint Church, Wilmington, NC

By: Jana Greene

“And though it is true that the church must always disassociate itself from sin, it can never have any excuse for keeping any sinners at a distance. If the church remains self-righteously aloof from failures, irreligious and immoral people, it cannot enter justified into God’s kingdom. But if it is constantly aware of its guilt and sin, it can live in joyous awareness of forgiveness. The promise has been given to it that anyone who humbles himself will be exalted.” – Brennan Manning

Church.

It is a place and a people, both.

My earliest exposure to church was as a small child in my grandparent’s Baptist congregation in Houston, Texas.  I remember my grandmother carrying me on her vast hip down the aisle, introducing me to other congregants as we passed.  When I sat down next to her for the service, I was surprised to see that everywhere was red.   Inside the proud brick building, pews were deep red velvet, as was the carpet.  Shiny Baptist hymnals were red as well, although many had faded to pink from the sun through stained glass.

“This is God’s house,” I remember her whispering to me.

I had heard about him before – God – in the stories that my grandparents read about all of the animals being crowded into a boat because water was filling up the world,  and about his talking to a man in the belly of a fish.   I told my grandmother that filling the world with water didn’t seem like a very nice thing to do, and she’d chuckled.  She explained that God sent a rainbow as a promise that he would never do it again, and that the flood seemed bad but was really good.  “Noah’s flood meant that God’s people could start all over again.”

She also told me about God’s Son, the Teacher. He lived a long time ago and loved all the people. She said that even though this Teacher was in Heaven with God, He would live in me, too, if I asked.

At thirteen years of age, I asked.

Since that time, I have experienced the Spirit of God many times in churches – and also the stinging judgment of my fellow humans there. So long as services are held on this planet, there will be issues in the churches.  As is true with most tangible things, the church itself is imperfect. It is a divinely touched organic thing, subject to troubles when people forget to offer up Self as a living sacrifice to him.  Sometimes even good people forget.  The church should disassociate itself with sin by virtue of it’s holiness….but there is always hope for sinners.  God’s son, the Teacher, said so.

He has  called us to gather and fellowship anyway.  We need each other. He also said to welcome others into his church just as they are, and to do so with love, to point people to Jesus.

The “place” of church has changed through the years.  Today, services are just as likely to be held in a building that shares walls with a grocery store, or on the sea-side, or in the auditorium of a middle school. Some have sleek décor and play rock music, some deliver messages by simulcast, some are still in proud brick buildings with stained glass and hymnals faded pink by the sun.   There is a church for every taste nowadays, for every spiritual leaning.

But the God of the people in his church is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.  His church seems to be growing in passion for the lost ones, those Christ was so passionate about.  Many followers of Jesus  are constantly aware of their guilt and sin in order to spread the awareness of joyous forgiveness.

God’s house should be the perfect place people to start over again, not for keeping sinners at a distance. God’s people should be the loving extension of his grace, a people whose souls are stained a deep, crimson red with his blood.

A place and people full of grace.

Inspirational

Grace Train Sounding Louder – thoughts on writing the tough chapters

Jana Greene10 Comments

By: Jana Greene

“But how can people call for help if they don’t know who to trust? And how can they know who to trust if they haven’t heard of the One who can be trusted? And how can they hear if nobody tells them? And how is anyone going to tell them, unless someone is sent to do it? That’s why Scripture exclaims,  A sight to take your breath away!  Grand processions of people  telling all the good things of God!  But not everybody is ready for this, ready to see and hear and act. Isaiah asked what we all ask at one time or another: “Does anyone care, God? Is anyone listening and believing a word of it?” The point is: Before you trust, you have to listen. But unless Christ’s Word is preached, there’s nothing to listen to.” – Romans 10:14-17 (The Message)

When I first read this scripture,  I thought about a locomotive. The image came to my mind of a train making stops in all kinds of places and picking up wayward people of all walks of life before continuing down the track.  I don’t know why.  Writers are a peculiar bunch when it comes to thinking (and everything else).

Another  line of thought  kept me active in my alcoholism for many years:  Nobody knows how I feel.  As long as I fed that train on the black coals of Terminal Uniqueness, the faster it gained speed for the inevitable train wreck.  Since no one else has had the exact  same life experiences that I have, I felt justified in drinking – and so I drank more and felt sorrier for myself and entered a tunnel of dark denial, and well….enough of the locomotive metaphors.  The result was disaster that I might not have survived.

I might not have.  But I did, because God is real and because surrender is an option.

The book I’m working on writing is about the ways that I’m not unique, which is most ways.  It is about life happening to a person who lost control; about that loss of control being the best thing that ever happened to her because it set the trajectory for letting go and letting God do His work.  There are elements of comedy, because so much in life is absurd, and musings about getting older, raising kids, and the like. Also along the storyline, there are many dark tunnels,  experiences that may speak to others who have lost control, these are the the parts that are difficult to write. Painful to write.  I would rather not include some experiences in the book  because they are embarrassing and shameful.

But they are the very same things that made me feel as though nobody knew how I felt when I first tried to get sober. They are universal, really – just as much as getting older and raising kids. Everyone hurts.  I think it’s important that others know they are not alone, not “too bad” for God to love, not a train wreck waiting to happen. Unless there is a Grand Procession of Christ-followers willing to be honest, who will help? God has given me a beautiful, awful, honorable burden to write about my recovery so that maybe someone with similar uniqueness will know that God can be trusted.

Or as Isaiah said in scripture, “Does anyone care? Is anyone listening and believing a word of it?”

I care. I believe.

As I relinquish the engine to God and ride in the boxcar, barefoot and vulnerable with my legs dangling over the passing tracks – watching the world and enjoying the view, and grabbing ahold of other wayward sinners on the way, pulling them up to ride along side me. There are bumps in the track and the car rattles at times, and we are not certain where it is headed.  But it’s okay because we are confident that the Engineer knows what He’s doing.

It is a sight to take your breath away.  And breathe life into your soul.

Inspirational

Why Jesus is my Sponsor

Jana Greene8 Comments
Sculpture at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, NYC (photo by Jana Greene)

One of the first things that one is encouraged to do in Alcoholics Anonymous is to get a sponsor.  Webster’s dictionary describes a sponsor as:

a)      A person who vouches or is responsible for a person or thing.  Or…

b)      A person who makes a pledge or promise on behalf of another.

Although I attended many meetings, I never did find a sponsor in the halls of AA.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want one initially, but asking someone to sponsor me seemed a cruel thing to ask of anyone in those early days.  Kind of like asking a stranger to donate a kidney.  And I surely didn’t want to sponsor someone else, even after some time in recovery, because I am a messy and flawed human being.  Being responsible for myself is about all I can handle (and some days that’s a stretch).

At one of the first meetings I went to, one member told the group that your “higher power” could be just about anything.

“It could be a lampshade,” she said, nodding toward the light in the corner of the room.  “As long as you admit that believing in it can restore you to sanity.”

I looked at the lampshade, which admittedly appeared to be more sane than I at that moment.  But it was not a “higher power” and I didn’t believe in its holiness. I didn’t believe that I could save myself, or that Buddha could save me or nature or another person.  I believed in Jesus Christ and His power to get me through this thing called sobriety.  It would have to be an act of God for me to stop drinking.

You see, for three days prior I had been on my knees, sick and begging for help.  Three days of detoxifying sweats, shakes, and hallucinations – the penalty of denying my body alcohol.  In my weak and lonely state, I had called out to Jesus Christ.  A fill-in-the-blank deity did not carry me through that – it was nothing short of supernatural.

When I was at my worst, sprawled out on the bathroom floor heaving and shaking, I screamed at the Lord and called him to the mat.

“You said your grace is sufficient,” I yelled, fist punching at air.  “Well, where are you?  Help me!”

Help me.  Help me. Please help me.  You SAID you WOULD!

And he did, moment by moment, bit by bit, comforting my sick body and tortured mind.  In that dark time, he became my closest friend.  The kind of friend you would give you a kidney.  The kind of friend that would give up his life for me.  Because you see, he did that, too.

Ever since that day, I have felt that I HAVE to tell other people about him, that he is still in the miracle business.  I have to show other “beggars” where I found bread.

I love the 12-steps and believe in the practicality that they offer.  I pull them out of the “toolbox” constantly, because they help me to do life on life’s terms instead of my own.  In the rooms of AA meetings and Celebrate Recovery gatherings, I have met the bravest people on earth.  Every person in recovery has something to bring to the table that another person in recovery needs to know or hear.  But for me, the program itself and the wonderful people I met at the meetings were just not enough to maintain sobriety.  They could not save my soul.

Life kept happening…the good and the bad, and all along, Jesus stayed. Jesus made the pledge, the promise – and he is still vouching for me today.  Any sanity I have had restored in these past eleven years of sobriety?

Given to me by my Sponsor, Jesus Christ.  He is the Highest Power of all.

Inspirational

Jesus in the Bathtub

Jana Greene4 Comments

By:  Jana Greene

 

Jesus is everywhere at one time.

My little niece (not by blood, but by blessing) Madelyn reminded me about Jesus, and his penchant for being everywhere one day after church.    I was making her a peanut butter sandwich for her lunch.  She was sitting at the kitchen table, swinging her feet high above the floor, and humming.

“What did you learn in Children’s church today?” I asked her .

She stopped kicking her legs and said, “That Jesus is everywhere.” Her arms made a broad, sweeping motion to illustrate the concept of omnipresence.  Then she put her elbows on the table then, and rested her face in her hands .  “But He lives in your bathtub.”

I laughed out loud.  At nearly three years old, Madelyn has a host of imaginary friends, so I was not surprised that she concocted a scenario in which Jesus lived in my bathtub.

It wasn’t until I took her to the potty in that same bathroom later that day that I saw Jesus in the bathtub, too.

“See, Aunt Jana?  Jesus.”  she says, pointing to the wall behind me in a tiny (but utterly confident)  voice.  “He’s right there.”

There, on a shelf behind the garden tub, is my favorite sculpture.  It is a bearded man carved from wood with long locks of intricately whittled  hair.   At about a foot tall, it is hard to miss.  I’m not sure of its origins but I suspect my husband acquired it on a trip to the Caribbean years ago.  The expression of the wooden man is peaced-out, contemplative and focused all at once.

I always kind of thought he was Bob Marley…..but okay.  Jesus works, too.

“It’s Jesus,” Madelyn repeated, as if reading my thoughts.

Later that day, this exceptional little girl informed me that Jesus also lives in her heart.

Kids are so literal, believing that when Jesus is “in your heart”; he is in your heart.  And they are so faithful to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that even though He lives in my bathtub, He is still everywhere all at once.

Not like an imaginary friend, who can only be in one place.

But everywhere, peaced-out, contemplative and focused on us.

 

Devotional

One Ridiculously Important Thing

Jana Greene6 Comments

By:  Jana Greene

Jesus replied:  Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All of the Law and Prophets hang on to these two commandments. – Matthew 22:36-40. (NIV)

Recently, the “weird and ridiculous” advertisements are all over the internet.  I cannot seem to surf a news site, weather channel blog or Facebook page without being promised “a ridiculously easy trick to stop smoking for good!”  Or, “one old, weird tip for cutting belly fat!”

Although I quit smoking in 2006, I am still tempted to click on the links.  Who doesn’t want to know a ridiculously easy trick?   And a singular old and weird tip for cutting belly fat?  Sign me up!  I’m oldish, definitely weird, and a big fan of the ridiculous.

And marketers know:  The word “one” appeals to us.  If it only takes ONE step, most of us figure we can handle that.  One-step solutions promise us the same results as those requiring work, but without as much of it.  And tricks?  We all like magical resolution– “trick” implies that NO effort on our part to take even the One Easy Step.

Jesus said there really is One Thing.  Love your God with all of your heart, all your soul, all your mind.  Everything else will fall into place if you do that One Thing, in regards to what really matters (which turns out not to be belly fat).  Certainly not ridiculous or weird, and with no trickery involved:

He never said it would be easy; most things worth with permanent results are not.

God’s advertisement strategy for His love is not proclaimed in internet pop-ups or one-click promises.  His advertising is the word of mouth and love in action of His people.  He isn’t seeking a quick sale…He wants a relationship.

I imagine that’s why it’s so important we remember The One Thing, so we can keep loving people the way He loved us while we were still sinners.  The wonder of grace is that it promises forgiveness, but through relationship and acceptance instead of work.  There is no trickery to it; our only effort to receive is to seek Him and ask for it.

No sleight of hand, just willingness of heart.   The One Thing:  Love.

Spiritual

Right in the Jugular

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oldschool.davidwesterfield.net

By:   Jana Greene

 “God went for the jugular when He sent His own Son.  He didn’t deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant.  In His Son, Jesus, He personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all.  The law code, weakened as it always was by fractured human nature, could never have done that.” – Romans 8:3-4 (The Message)

The jugular.   I’ve never heard the gospel explained like that before.  It sounds pretty graphic.  It is decidedly untidy, and really extreme.  Maybe even a little offensive.

What I know about human anatomy is very limited.  But I know that if you are ever in Africa on safari and attacked by a lioness, she will “go for your jugular”.  She is going for your lifeblood, and she means business.    It would be a direct hit.

Society tends to think of the Bible as a book of stories of ancient peoples.   But it isn’t just a bestseller.   It is an account of the disordered mess of struggling humanity being set right with a true and omnipotent Creator.  In the beginning there was God, yes.   But the end?   We know where eternity lies, but “the end” is not dusty pages of prophecy in Revelation.  The end is still being recorded in the lives we live today.   In my life, in your life.

God’s relationship with us individually was not remote and unimportant then….it is of the utmost importance now, and He means business.   To reconcile His people –full of sin and selfishness and corruption – back to him, sacrificial blood had to be spilled.  He had to have contact with this fractured human condition directly, swiftly.   I forget this sometimes, when I try to tidy up the gospel to suit me.

In “going for the jugular” of humanity, He poured Himself over bone and under skin, walked around in flesh with all of the discomfort that entails, and was brutally tortured and nailed to the cross to die.     His lifeblood was spilled while we were still sinners, the ultimate and fatal blow to death.

Webster’s Dictionary defines “jugular” simply:  “The most vital part”.  Thats where God hit sin and death.  Right in the jugular.

In Him, we are set right, once and for all.

Spiritual

“Can You Hear Me Now?” – God

Jana Greene9 Comments

By:  Jana Greene

Do you ever wish God used a megaphone?  I do.

I have a couple of friends who are blessed with the ability to hear from God:  that small, still voice, presenting audibly.   I believe it is a gifting, the way speaking in tongues is a gifting, but not one of mine.  At least not yet.

A few months ago, I felt like the Lord was telling me to quit my stressful job.  (Convenient, right?  That’s why I didn’t listen at first).  I was experiencing health issues and as my doctor said, “something had to ‘give’. “  (As I live in a house with three daughters of the teenage persuasion, it was unlikely to ‘give’ at home.)  And my creativity?  Withering on the vine.  By the end of the day, I was too tired to create anything, even dinner for my family.

“It’s ok,” I felt like my Father in heaven was telling my spirit.  “Its ok to quit your job.”

But it was a good job; a full-time job, with benefits.  Employment is hard to come by these days.  So, I figured I must have misunderstood God.  But the health issues got worse.

I wanted to be obedient, but I also wanted my 401-k and paid time off.  In essense, I wanted assurance of a favorable outcome.  Nevermind that, in thirty years of salvation, God has never given me a guarantee that “Plan B” will pan out.  Even when I am absolutely sure that I am being obedient. But things have always worked out to the good.   I suppose that’s why it is called a Leap of Faith, and not a Baby step of Certainty.

My prayers continued.  Please, God….show me the direction to go.

“Write,” my interpretation of his voice said.  “Quit your job, and write.”

Why would God, who knows all, advise me to do that?  And what if I was hearing Him wrong?  What if, because writing has always been my dream, I am hearing what I want to hear?  The stakes are high here, there is much to lose.

But so, so much to gain.

For weeks, there was confirmation that it was time to quit.  It was time to move on and take a risk.  Still, I kept hoping that the clouds would break open, the sun shine upon me, and the booming voice God – who sounds a lot like Morgan Freeman in this scenario – would tell me what to do.  (He also called me a “good and faithful servant” here, but I digress).

If that actually happened, it would not be a Leap of Faith on my part, I guess.  It would be more a Baby -Step of Certainty.

If I want to hear what God is saying, I have to approach it with openness.   I have to ask that He reveal His will.  It seems so simple, but I forget to ask specifically sometimes, but still wait for an answer.  Just asking is the first step.

I have to read what He has to say in His Word.  I use The Message translation because it is plain to me, and although I enjoyed Geoffrey Chaucer’s “The Canterbury Tales” as much as the next 10th grader in high school, I like to read The Word to read plainly, not in King James English.  My soul digests the message easier when my brain doesn’t have to digest it first.

I’ve learned that other Believers are a resource that God expects us to tap into.  I must ask for prayer, and listen to the advice of those who walk closest with Christ.   (Different from taking a “poll” – which  is what I mistakenly did at first.   The reactions amongst my friends were split about 50/50, with “Wow!  Good for you!” and “Are you CRAZY?” being the predominant reactions.)

My believing friends?   Overwhelmingly supportive.  When I ask them for prayer, there is always the chance that they might even hear audibly the confirmation that I received only from a gentle brush to my spirit.

I am so afraid to misunderstand, which of course, I will at times. It’s part of learning to discern God’s voice.  My struggle is that even when I hear from God – quite unmistakably – I still question it.

JESUS (using megaphone):  Quit your job and write.

ME: Get  a mob at night? Fit the fob just right?  Lob it out of sight?  What, Lord, WHAT?

Jesus:  **FACEPLAM**

Maybe that’s why I don’t hear him audibly.  If He did use a megaphone, I would no doubt complicate his command by over-analyzing.  He really isn’t a drill sergeant anyway.  He is love itself, patient and kind.  SO patient and kind.  And if I mis-heard?  He will still use the experience to bless me and others, and to glorify Him.   He is so awesome that way.

I quit my job, and I’m writing.  I don’t know how long it will be before I need to find a paying job, I trust God will let me know.  As for today, I have peace that passes understanding.  As for today, I am healthier, if not wealthier, and my soul is “listening” for the next move.

That small, still voice that presents by brushing my spirit?  It’s the sweetest sound.