Digging Out Roots

Digging Out Roots

by | Jun 11, 2020 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Then He said to the disciples, “It is impossible that no offenses should come, but woe to him through whom they do come! 2 It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were thrown into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones. 3 Take heed to yourselves. If your brother sins against you, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him. 4 And if he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times in a day returns to you, saying, ‘I repent,’ you shall forgive him.”

5 And the apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith.”

6 So the Lord said, “If you have faith as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be pulled up by the roots and be planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

 

Luke 17:1-6

 

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Jesus talks about offenses in one breath in this passage, forgiveness in the next, and then follows it up with a lesson from a mulberry tree’s roots. He in fact then goes on to talk about a servants’ time, but you’re just going to have to wait for next week to get my thoughts on that one. 😉

For now, I want to look at this passage in the light of current events. In my church, we’ve been working through Luke in the sermon series, and this just happened to be the chapter for this week. But man, again, I can’t call that a coincidence. These verses hit home with me, and they hit HARD.

“It is impossible that no offenses should come.” We’re seeing them now, aren’t we? Offenses all around us, people causing each other to sin, to stumble, to lose faith. This is an inevitable part of the human nature—we’re going to upset each other, hurt each other, and influence each other in negative ways. We’re going to…but that doesn’t make it excusable.

That doesn’t mean that I should jump to the defense of those who have given offense. And yet that’s often our first reaction, right, when we identify with the first party more than the second? How many times have we heard (or have we done) this? We hear something negative about a politician, a church leader, a police officer, a teacher—someone like us or behind whom we’ve put our support—and our gut reaction is “No, that can’t be right. Or they had good reasons.” And then, because our emotions have already decided that they’re in the right, we seek evidence to back that up…whether they’re really right or not.

We forgot that One with whom we should really identify already warned us against this. “Woe to him through whom they come.” We forget that Jesus never once in Scripture sided with the authorities. Never. Once. He never supports the status quo. He never says that The Way Things Are are good enough. No, He turned over money-changing tables in the temple courtyard, rooted out injustice and corruption, and let His heart be moved by compassion for those whom society wanted most to forget.

Is that what we do though, we Christians? Or do we instead ignore that offense has even been given? My friends, I’ve been as guilty of this as the next person. Again, it’s human nature. It’s what we do on a basic level, subconsciously, without even realizing it. We support Those Like Us. It’s that tribal nature coming out.

But there comes a time when we have to stop doing that. When we have to #BeBetter than our natures. When we have to remember that Jesus made us someone new, someone who can rise above that. And that Jesus expects us to identify with the downtrodden, not the leadership. The sick, not the keeper of the medicine. The broken, not the strong-arm.

Why, though? Because—this should come as no surprise to anyone—power corrupts. Power has corrupted in America, and not just politicians. We have systems in place that train people to act in wrong ways. That offend.

I think we’re seeing the “woe to them” part of that right now, and it makes me so, so sad to watch. So many people are hurt on so many levels. So many communities are desperate for change.

And so many people “like me” are so busy defending the offenders who are “like us” that they can’t see the offense.

Or maybe…maybe it’s just too hard to fix it. Maybe they get glimpses of the wrongs done, but find it easier or more in line with their emotional wants to deny it than to do the work.

But how many times can we wrong people before they give up? And that’s when the offender sees the wrong they’ve done and apologizes for it! I pray my minority brothers and sisters can forgive me for the times I haven’t seen, haven’t understood, haven’t even given a thought to hurts inflicted on their communities by people “like me.” I never meant to hurt them—as I said last week, I want equality…and thought wanting it was enough. I hope that when I ask them to forgive me, they will. That they’ll see intention. But it’s significantly harder to forgive those who don’t ever ask for it. Who insist they’ve done nothing wrong.

Oh Lord, increase our faith. Increase their faith.

Because that is the only way we can dig out those roots of resentment, of offense, of injustice, of prejudice.

We have a mulberry tree on our property that had died, so my husband cut it down. But cutting it down didn’t get rid of the stump. And it didn’t get rid of the roots. Are you familiar with mulberry trees? Their roots go DEEP. I’m talking DEEEEEEEEP.

You can’t dig them out by your own strength. A shovel won’t work. Elbow grease won’t work. Persistence won’t work.

It takes something more than that.

To turn it back to the analogy…it takes faith. The kind of faith that starts as something tiny, but which grows and multiplies and becomes huge—so huge others can rest in it and take shelter under it.

That’s the only way we can dig out those roots of offense, of sin. Faith, my friends.

That’s the only way we can #BeBetter.

I want to see healing come to this land. Do you?

Do we REALLY? Knowing that healing requires cleansing the very roots of the infection? Knowing that it’s hard work, that it’s long, that sometimes it requires treatments that are painful? Are we willing to do the work?

I’ll be honest—I don’t know what it looks like. I don’t know what God might require of us. I don’t know how hard it’ll be to keep it up when these protests fade away and routine takes over. But I do know that that’s where the test really comes.

I’m praying for spiritual eyes to see the problems around us and wisdom to know how to act to fix it. And I pray you’ll help me plant my mustard seed of faith and water it so it can grow.

We can change our world, my friends. But not on our own, equipped with only shovels. We need Him.

I’ve started an email group called #BeBetter, where we can support each other with daily prayer, share our stories, ask our questions, and seek encouragement. I don’t honestly expect a ton of people to join, but I hope you do. I hope that together we can seek and find small ways to effect real change.

 

Word of the Week – Salary and Salt

Word of the Week – Salary and Salt

by | Jun 8, 2020 | Word of the Week

Leave it to my daughter to lean over in the middle of church and whisper, “Word of the week!” during the sermon–which is exactly what happened when my dad shared this fun little tidbit. 😉

Did you know that salary is from the same root as salt? Salary has meant “wages, compensation” since the 13th century, and the word comes from the Latin salarium (same meaning), which is closely linked to salarius, “of or pertaining to salt.” Some sources say it’s because a soldier’s salary was considered to be spent on salt, and others say that sometimes wages were even paid in salt. Either way, salt is such a necessary and, historically, valuable item that it’s no wonder it’s linked so closely to money in our words!

And I’ll admit it . . . I’ve spent a fair bit on salt over the years. I have a cabinet full of different varieties, which I occasionally find very amusing. Especially when I find a recipe that calls for one I don’t yet have. Gasp! My favorite: a variety of Cornish seasoned sea salts.

Do you have a favorite or rare kind of salt in your kitchen?
Thoughtful About . . . Understanding Riots

Thoughtful About . . . Understanding Riots

by | Jun 4, 2020 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I’ll admit it–I’ve never understood riots. Whether they’re a result of a sporting event or a grave injustice, the act itself is just something that is foreign to my disposition. I have been largely baffled by the examples in my lifetime, and I honestly didn’t know what to think of them. Should I take a side? Make a judgment? Should I do anything, say anything, think anything? Should I do anything other than pray God will work in the situation?

This has never been a political question for me. Honestly, anything political generally just frustrates me. But riots, movements, protests all get very political, very quickly. So I’ve opted for silence in any public forum, because my motto is “don’t vent any political opinions. You’ll only offend half the people who see it.” LOL.

This week, though, as the protests around the country even make it to my tiny hometown, I have to speak. And I have to speak because finally, finally I understand. And I owe it to fiction.

Over the weekend, the Hunger Games movies were on. Rather good timing, that. Because not an hour after I said to my husband, “I understand that this is a terrible injustice. I just don’t understand rioting–as a thing, I mean,” we turned on the TV and there were Katniss and Peeta, thanking Rue’s District for her sacrifice. They poured out their hearts to a crowd of people just as oppressed as they had been, as they still were. And the people saw. They saw in those two Victors from District 12 a rallying cry. Those people cried out in response. And their actions soon turned to a riot.

A riot I had zero problem understanding. Which made a big ol’ lightbulb go on inside this little head.

When a group has been oppressed for decades or centuries, when they have cried out again and again for justice, and when the very people who should be delivering that justice are instead the perpetrators of more injustice…

When even those who have never broken a law are afraid of the police, because the police see them as a threat, whether they are or not…

When the very people who should be their brothers and sisters are the first ones to say, “It’s not that bad!”…

When there is nothing else they can say, then what’s left?

Action. They lash out. They lash out from broken hearts and the utter certainty that tearing down the neighborhoods that have trapped them in this oppression can’t possibly leave them any worse off–and might stir people. Not the people who are opposed to them, but those who should be standing with them. Every riot against injustice that roars to life, my friends, says something about us. About the people who did not hear the cry before. Who did not help change come. Who did not already right the wrongs.

But how can we? This is where I’ve run into frustration time and again. I want equality. I want it to be finished, complete, full. I want everyone on both sides to stop focusing on our differences.

But that’s where my own bias has suddenly become apparent to me. I want that because I can stop focusing on it–because I don’t live a life that runs into it every day. Because I have the freedom to be who I am without apology, without anyone looking at me askance because of it or making me feel my life is in danger. Others don’t have that freedom.

Here’s the thing though–most people, I have to think, don’t understand that any more than I have. And when labels are applied–racist, bigot, privileged–it just gets hackles up. Defenses rise. Our automatic response is to shout back, “No I’m not!” and dismiss the valid points along with the label. This is human nature.

It’s important to identify the problem–we can’t fix what we don’t see. But labeling doesn’t fix anything, ever. It just creates tribes. It creates opposition. Instead of recoiling, instead of rebutting, instead of judging, instead of even shaking our heads in confusion, here is what we need to do:

Love.

Visibly. Vocally. Love out loud. Love in a whisper. Love in a million tiny ways and a thousand big ones. Love the victims, love the perpetrators, love the frustrated moms and the terrified kids. Love the old-timer who preferred things the way they used to be, and love the protestor shouting for a brighter tomorrow. Love them all, knowing that God does. Knowing that we are His children. Knowing that if half of us are so fed up, so beaten down, so tired of fighting the same fight over and over again that they feel the need to riot or protest, then it doesn’t really matter if we fully understand–it only matters that it’s time to #BeBetter.

The church. The “world.” The police. The military. The courts. The neighbors. The bosses. The employees. Standing with those who feel this pain means accepting it, feeling it with them, granting that maybe we don’t know what “right” is and that maybe they do. It means insisting that something be done, because the status quo isn’t good enough. It means hearing the rallying cry and recognizing that any fight that is theirs is also ours–because we are one in Him.

In the Hunger Games, we were all rooting for rebellion, for revolution to take hold–because from our cozy seats, we could so easily see who was the bad guy and who was the hero. But for those people in the districts, it was a whole different story. The same story, the one they’d been hearing for generations already. They already knew the cost of uprising. They paid it every year. Every day. Finally, though, a spark caught. Fire spread.

Maybe we fear that fire. But fear cannot rule the day. I still don’t know exactly what I can do, but I do know this–when I stand before the Almighty, I don’t want him to say to me, “Why did you put out the blaze of My righteous fire?” I want Him to say, “You let Me burn away your chaff, my child, and be purified. And then you spread the fire of My spirit to all around you.”

 

 ~*~

My husband just wrote an article that looks at the larger subject and how we can view it through spiritually-aware eyes. Check it out on his brand-new website, the Spiritual Struggle.

 

Moving!

Moving!

by | Jun 1, 2020 | Announcements, Uncategorized

Hello, lovely readers!
I’m going to be taking this week off the blog…and will be migrating it to my website. So if you’re visiting right now, you may see a few hiccups as I get everything transferred. But after that, it should (I hope and pray!) all just go automatically there. Say a prayer for me, LOL.
Thanks for your patience!
Thoughtful About . . . Encouragers

Thoughtful About . . . Encouragers

by | May 28, 2020 | Thoughtful Thursdays

At the time of writing this (the weekend before it posts), I’m sitting with my laptop at the kitchen table while my husband’s comfy in our leather armchair, reading The Nature of a Lady before I have to turn it in on June 1. I’m so very blessed to have a honey who supports my writing–not just because he makes sure I have ample time to actually write, but because he does this too. He reads. He chuckles. He talks to me about the characters and settings and themes as he reads. And, most of all, because he encourages me.
There are many different things we artistic types need, right? We need the critics (I guess, LOL), who keep us from becoming complacent. We need the editors, who help us ratchet up tension, smooth out writing, and cut away any excess to make our stories more our stories by helping us really dig down to the heart of them. We need the audience to interact with our creation and show us where it resonates and where it doesn’t. But we also need someone like this. We need encouragers.
Okay, that’s not just for artistic types. We all need encouragers.
At this point, six little days before I turn in my manuscript, I don’t need someone telling me it’s all wrong. I need someone who frequently laughs over one of my characters’ witticisms and says, “I love your writing.” I don’t need someone who says, “Wow, you’re going to have work more on this part.” (Even though that might be true.) I need someone who says, “Oh, I see what you’re doing. This one line might be too on-the-nose, but that’s clever.” I need someone who not only believes in me, but who celebrates each little victory with me. I need someone who, even amidst mistakes and weak parts, has complete faith that I can do what needs to be done.
We can never over-sell the importance of someone like that in our lives–and especially concerning the thing we feel called to do. The thing God’s led us to. The Hard Thing we’re working on.
Because when we’re in the trenches–on the mission field, in hour twelve of a hospital shift, two weeks from the end of a school year, or a week away from a due date–sometimes we forget the big view, right? We forget the why of what we’re doing. The how and the that are just so overwhelming sometimes. We can’t really focus on the purpose, because we’re so caught up in the details.
And when we’re doing the thing God called us to do, we’re going to have troubles too. The Enemy is going to be trying to tear us down. To stop us. To make it seem too hard, not worth it. All around us, we’re going to find those who discourage us. Those who say we’re crazy for even trying this thing. That we should have done something safer. More logical. That we should look out for ourselves more and others less. That we’re not even that good at the thing we’ve put our hand to.
But let’s take a minute just to look at these words: encourage, discourage. What’s the root? (Didn’t know you were getting a bonus Word of the Week post, did you? Haha.) COURAGE. Encourage actually means “to put heart or courage into.” And discourage, of course, then means to take it out.
So why do we ever listen to the voices of discouragement? Why do we let people take our heart? Why do we ever entertain those voices, when by definition they’re harmful to us? Maybe we’ve done something wrong, maybe we’ve messed up, maybe we’re not the best we can be–but we don’t improve by letting our heart, letting our courage be taken away. We improve by strengthening our hearts.
I’ve been blessed to be surrounded by encouragers in my life. And I’m hereby renewing my determination to be one too. My challenge to all of us this week is to speak encouragement into someone’s life. Maybe it’s your spouse, your child, your sister, your mom. Or maybe it’s your pastor, a teacher, or the cashier in the checkout line. Whoever it is, wherever it is, if you see that shadow of discouragement in them, speak against it. When you see their heart faltering, offer something to strengthen it again.
Because we, as children of God, are not called to steal anyone else’s heart, to discourage their calling, or to be the storm cloud in their life. We’re called to encourage, to edify, and to support one another. And when we do that well…well, watch out, world. The Church will be on the move!
“Therefore comfort each other and edify one another, just as you also are doing.”
I Thessalonians 5:11
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