Thoughtful About . . . The Mismatched

by Roseanna White | Jun 2, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

When I got married, I filled out a registry. A wish list. It had on it all the things one would expect–dishes and cookware, sheets and towels.

All of them, sets. Matching.

Off-white plates with flowers around the edges. Matching cups. A set of cutlery. Glasses that complemented. Things designed carefully to look good beside each other. That wore a uniform. That were all the same in their perfection.

Over the years, plates and bowls and glasses have gotten broken. Cutlery has, somehow or another, vanished. This piece and that piece have been lent out and forgotten. Over the years, our collection of dishes has been subtracted from and added to.

Now it’s a hodgepodge. It’s a mixture. A motley array of mismatched this-and-that.

And I love it.

I’ve heard before (though I don’t honestly remember from whom) the statement, “I just want dishes that match!” At the time, I commiserated. This seems like a good thing, you know?

But when I pause to think about it . . . which coffee cup is my favorite? The Disney mug I bought for myself when I was 14. The one that has no match. Is part of no set. The one that’s unique. It fits my hand, and I like how much it holds. I’ve even caught myself, when in a rental house for vacation or in my church kitchen, always seeking out a mug that’s different. That won’t be confused with anyone else’s. That’s unique and inviting.

Still, I was somewhat surprised when my kids, a couple years ago, began the following conversation:

Rowyn: “Can I have that spoon instead of this one? That one’s my favorite.”
Xoe: “Really? I don’t have a favorite spoon. But I have a favorite fork. It’s the one with the stars on it.”
Rowyn: “You can have that one. I like the little one with the flowers.”

I smiled as I heard them talking oh-so-seriously about which of the mismatched cutlery they preferred. Why?

Because they both favored the unique pieces. The one-of-a-kind ones. Yes, that’s part of it.

But also because only then did I realize that their favorites were my least favorites. That the ones that don’t please me aesthetically for one reason or another, they find beautiful.

And that this is something I never would have learned in this particular way if all my silverware still matched.

When we’re surrounded by the same, we’re not given the chance to find our preferences. When we have only that perfect set, there isn’t room for individuality. When everything matches, nothing stands out. Not that there’s anything wrong with a matching set of dishes, LOL. It’s certainly a handy way to buy something you need.

But there’s something so beautiful in the mismatched. There’s something freeing. Something encouraging.

Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t quite fit in a set. Right? We’re all a little different. A little off. A little bigger or smaller or cracked. We’re different colors. Different shapes.

And that’s how we’re supposed to be. Because different people find different things beautiful. We have different needs. My favorite will not be yours, necessarily. And that’s good. That’s right. We all appreciate different facets of this beautiful world. For different reasons that invite us in different ways.

God didn’t create much of anything in neat, orderly sets. He created a wild profusion of beauty. He created the this-and-that. The hodgepodge. Mismatched. Mountains and valleys, rivers and seas, deserts and rain forests. And He declared it good.

I’ll probably never have a matching set of dishes again, much less cutlery or glasses. And you know what?

It’s good.

Thoughtful About . . . Whatever Things Are True

by Roseanna White | May 19, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I daresay we’ve all read Philippians 4:8-9. I know I’ve read it many times. I’ve heard it quoted. I’ve read bloggers
and reviewers who make it their mantra . . . and occasionally I have been
seriously irritated when people condemn something using this as their excuse.
Because God’s word is beautiful . . . but sometimes people . . . people
use it as a bludgeon. Or worse, as an excuse to look only at the surface of a thing. To take the easy way out.

Last week, I was finishing up our read-alouds for the homeschool year, and Philippians was our final book. Chapter 4, obviously, our final chapter. A great way to end a school year.

Because the kids sometimes had difficulty following the New King James version of Paul’s epistles, I’d been reading from The Message. Here’s how it puts verses 8-9.

The two aren’t terribly different, but a few words are. We have:

I think we can all agree with what Paul is saying here–that by focusing, dwelling, meditating on these righteous things, these good things, on what is holy, we keep ourselves better aligned with God. Absolutely.

Here, however, is the question–what is true? What is noble? What is just and reputable? What is pure and authentic? Lovely? Compelling? Of good report and gracious? What is full of virtue and praiseworthy?

It seems like it should be a simple question.

But it’s not.

What if, for instance, you’re reading a Christian book and you find something objectionable in it? To keep it only somewhat objectionable, let’s say that it’s mentioned that someone curses or makes a rude gesture or sins outright.

Should we toss that book aside, because it’s not dwelling on good things?

I’m not actually talking about my books in particular, LOL. I’m talking about many discussions I’ve seen over the years. Including a statement made with what I deem infinite wisdom a few days ago: if you refuse to read anything that mentions sin . . . then you can’t read the Bible.

How does God show us His light? His glory? His righteousness?
By comparing it to darkness. To deception. To sin.

How does God show us His ultimate love in the form of Jesus?
By sending him into a dying world, to be treated as a criminal and murdered.

How does God teach us how to seek after His heart?
By telling us the stories of those who did, and those who didn’t, and those who mostly did but failed here and there. Or mostly didn’t but then saw the Truth.

A few weeks ago, I had a Skype call with a college class that was teaching Christian fiction writing, and one of the questions they asked was, “What place do dark themes have in Christian fiction?”

I answered them with the answer I’ve come to after many years of thinking about. Praying about it. And trying it out.

I don’t approve of darkness in Christian fiction for the sake of darkness. I don’t like it for shock value or to prove a point. I don’t like being left with darkness at the end of the book.

But God’s light shines brightest when there is darkness surrounding it that is trying–and FAILING–to snuff it out. God’s mercy is the most striking to those who have suffered. God’s leading is the most meaningful when you were lost. God’s healing is the most miraculous for those are sick and dying. God’s grace is the most beautiful in the face of the ugliest sin.

What is true? What is noble? That there is ugliness and nastiness and sin in this world, but that God is bigger. What is just? That we are deserving of death for our sins. What is pure? That He washes those sins away. What is lovely? A sunrise after the darkest night. What is gracious? A Father who gathers His children close and wipes away their tears and whispers that He loves them, no matter what has come before. That they can rise up and sin no more.

There will be dark themes in my books–some more than others. There will be ugliness, and there will be heartbreak, and there will be sin. Because then there will be grace, and there will be redemption, and there will be change. Because that is what speaks Jesus to a hurting, sinful world. Not the picture of a perfect life that they can’t relate to because it doesn’t exist–the picture of a broken world made whole through Him.

I mediate on that a lot. Not on things that look pretty on the surface–on things made beautiful by Him.

And the peace of God is with me.