Word of the Week – Alcohol

Word of the Week – Alcohol

Sometimes a word history just takes me by surprise. And that’s definitely the case with alcohol. I don’t know about you, but I had no idea it has its roots in, get this, cosmetics.

But yep! Alcohol is from the Arabic al-kuhul, as in kohl, the fine black powder used as eyeliner in the ancient world (which itself means “paint or stain”). So how did it evolve to its current meaning?

Well, round about 1540, alcohol began to be used by English speakers to refer to any fine powder produced by sublimation, especially popular in chemistry settings. One scientist also began using it to describe “a volatile liquid.” From there, it began to refer to the “pure spirit” of something.

It wasn’t until the mid-1700s that this “pure spirit” meaning stretched to mean “the inebriating element of strong liquor.” But note that it wasn’t used for the liquor itself, but only to describe the part of it that did the intoxicating. The original phrase was in fact “the alcohol of wine,” which was then shortened. Before this, people call the alcohol the rectified spirits or the brandy of wine or liquor.

Who knew?!

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Just a Few Words

Just a Few Words

I’ve read the account in Acts of the conversion of Saul/Paul many times. But I just reread it a couple weeks ago, and something really struck me this time.

Have you ever noticed how little it took to win Paul’s heart for Christ?

I mean, sure, there was the miracle–the blinding light (which his companions saw too), the voice from heaven (which they couldn’t hear). That’s enough to get anyone’s attention. But that Voice…He spoke only a few words. “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” and then, when Saul asked Him who He was, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

That was it. That’s all it took to change the life of a man who went on to be one of the most influential Christians in history. Jesus didn’t need to explain to him why he shouldn’t be persecuting Him. He didn’t need to explain that He was the Son of God. He didn’t need to say, “And now I need you to repent and turn over a new leaf and go and sin no more.”

All He had to do was state His name. State that Saul was persecuting Him. Not just the followers of the Way, not just the fledgling church, but Christ himself.

If we put the pieces together, we get the impression that Saul had never met or heard Jesus directly during His ministry on earth, but we also know that Saul studied under Gameliel in Jerusalem, so it’s quite likely he was there in the capital while the events of the Gospels were playing out. He may never have met Jesus, but he certainly knew of Jesus. And like his teachers, he clearly thought that Jesus was not only full of hot air, but a danger to the God Saul loved.

Because Saul loved God with a deep passion. He was zealous for his faith–that’s why he wanted to protect it from heresy, and to paraphrase C.S. Lewis, Jesus was either truly the Son of God, a madman, or a heretic, there’s no in between. No room to call Him “just a good teacher.” Saul wanted to stamp out those early Christians because he fully believed they were trying to tear apart the true faith in God.

Until that road to Damascus. Until that light blinded him. Until that voice came to Him. Saul clearly knew, as his senses were overwhelmed with heaven, that this Light, this Voice, belonged to none other than God. He clearly knew that he was in the presence of the One he loved above all others.

Then that Voice gave him an equation. The Voice, clearly God, identified Himself as Jesus.

And that’s all it took. All it took for Saul to become Paul, to be willing to go to his enemies and listen to the Truth they bravely, riskily told him. All it took to turn him from persecutor to apostle.

Which is fitting–because that’s so similar to how Christ called all His disciples, isn’t it? All He ever had to do was say, “Follow me.” And the fishermen left their nets. The tax collectors left their money. The zealots left their missions.

As I pondered this, I had to ask myself…what does it take for us today? Not just to call us to Christ, but to recognize Him? What if He says to us:

I am Jesus, whom you bypassed on the corner because I smelled bad and had no place to lay my head.
I am Jesus, whom you cursed because I love the politician you hate.
I am Jesus, whom you opted not to help because you were saving up for that thing you didn’t really need.
I am Jesus, whom you cast out of your city, your state, your country, because you called me undeserving to be there.
I am Jesus, whom you dismissed because I didn’t speak English well enough.
I am Jesus, whom you said got what I deserved.

Our Lord tells us in the Gospels that what we do to the “least of these,” we do to Him. And when it comes to mission trips or seving at shelters or even prison ministries, we’re quick to identify it with that lesson.

But are we as quick to see Him in the people we meet in our day-to-day lives? Are we as quick to remember that Christ loves that politician we denounce so much that He died for them? Are we as quick to remember that how we interact with everyone is how we interact with Jesus? Do we remember that it’s love He wants us to be remembered for?

I find myself wondering frequently what happened to those companions who were with Saul when the light blinded them. They couldn’t hear the voice, just a sound like thunder. Why? Were their hearts too hard? Or was the thunder and light enough to convince them too? Did they go with Saul to hear the Good News? Did they accept it?

Or did they turn around and go back to Jerusalem, shaking their heads as they told the Sanhedrin, “Another one bites the dust. He was sucked in by the teachings of that false prophet.”

I can’t count the times I’ve heard Christians say they wished they’d been alive to see Jesus in the flesh. And I get that…but why do we think it would have been different? Most people who heard Him didn’t become part of that first Church. Most people who followed Him were only in it for the meal He provided, the miracles, the easy stuff. When the teachings got difficult, they shook their heads and walked away. Most people who heard His voice didn’t hear His voice. It was just thunder in their ears. They saw the Light, but then they blinked and turned away.

Saul had a heart always chasing after God–he was just wrong, at first, about the direction. But all it took was that “I AM” moment for him to redirect his entire life. To go from accomplice-to-murder to martyr-at-heart.

Are my eyes as ready to be blinded by Him? Is my heart as ready to change? Are my ears so attuned to Him that I hear the directions He gives, or is He thunder to me?

Would I be Saul…or one of his unnamed companions? Would I give up my own understanding, my preconceived notions, my definition of faith if and when He calls me to a path I’d thought was wrong?

Are a few words from Jesus enough to change our whole life?

Word of the Week – Phony

Word of the Week – Phony

As long as there have been people selling things, there have been people cheating, swindling, and otherwise trying to get more money than something’s worth. And of course, words have evolved to describe those things.

In the late 1780s, one such word was fawney, used especially by the Irish to describe brass rings (fainne means “ring”) being sold as gold.

The word stuck, and then got changed in spelling and pronunciation slightly as it was adopted by the greater English-speaking world. Over the course of the next century, the spelling changed to phoney and then phony, and it went from being specifically a fake-ring to being anything fake or not genuine.

By 1902, it shifted from being strictly an adjective–a property of a thing that was fake–to being used as a noun to describe that ingenuine thing or even person.

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I Won’t Be

I Won’t Be

A couple weeks ago, a couple things happened in the course of a few hours that made me pause and think, not just of who I want to be, but of who I don’t want to be.

It started with an author newsletter that came into my inbox a couple days before. In this newsletter, the author in question mentioned a very strong political opinion that I very strongly disagree with, LOL. I believe I said something to my husband along the lines of, “And she’s lost me.”

Then, on the day in question, another newsletter of hers came into my inbox. I scrolled down to the bottom and clicked “unsubscribe,” so of course it took me to the page where you confirm that choice.

And I sat, and I looked at that button, and I thought, “Is this who I want to be? Do I really want to disassociate myself with someone just because we disagree about one particular political stance?”

I stared at the button for a few seconds. And then I closed out that window, leaving my subscription intact. Why?

Because I don’t want to be the kind of person who creates an echo chamber for herself. I don’t want to be the kind of person who just stops listening to people I disagree with about something. Nope. In fact, I want to be the kind of person who seeks out those opinions I don’t always agree with. Because if I don’t hear them, don’t engage with them in my own heart and mind, don’t love them through our disagreements, I run the risk of becoming a two-dimensional, thoughtless bigot.

That’s not who I want to be.

On that same evening, I saw a comment on a post of mine on Instagram in which someone blasted me for becoming Catholic. Now, this was on that post a couple weeks ago about visiting other churches and how I didn’t fully appreciate this until becoming Catholic. I know whenever I post something publicly about this change, that I open myself up for all the “Catholicism is a cult” comments. And I expected it on my blog post here, honestly. Still, I was a bit surprised to see it on Instagram for some reason (don’t ask me why). (For reference, it looks like the commenter deleted her original comment, and hence all our many, many replies to each other, so no point in going to look, LOL.)

Naturally, I saw this comment right before bed, too. Which means that I went to bed wondering if my response was good enough, loving enough, compelling enough. Wondering if I had responded with grace enough to this comment of “I used to read your books, but now I don’t.” I wondered if I’d shown the love of Christ brightly enough.

I got up the next morning, and there was another reply, saying that she hoped I truly did still write for Christ (part of my reply to her), but that Catholicism was still wrong.

Coming up with a reply made me again consider who I want to be…and who I don’t.

I don’t want to be the kind of person who shuts down conversation–ever. I want to be the kind of person who encourages it.

I don’t want to be the kind of person who ignores those who disagree with me. As Dale Carnegie teaches so well in the amazing book How to Win Friends and Influence People*, a gracious reply to an argumentative comment can win friends that neither a caustic reply nor ignoring them can. I have made this my policy–any time I get comments or emails that attack, I do reply–with love and understanding. I first seek to understand their point and where they’re coming from. I want to address any disappointment I have caused. I want to consider their stance. I want to honor the time they’ve taken to reply to me. I want to appreciate them.

I obviously don’t agree when someone says, “Yeah, but you’re still wrong.” But I can grant that they believe it, and that their beliefs are valid. I can appreciate that the parts they’re focusing on have truth to them, even if I’ve been satisfied that they’re parts of a greater truth with more nuance than I think that subject alone conveys. I can even appreciate that they’re so passionate about a given topic that they would go out of their way to comment about it on someone else’s post.

I won’t be the person who dismisses others for their beliefs.

I won’t be the person who lets disagreement tarnish the love that should be at the core of my faith.

I won’t be the person who lets offense lead to broken relationship, even with a veritable stranger.

I won’t be the person who devalues someone because we have different opinions or understandings.

You and I probably agree about a lot. We probably disagree about a little. And you know what? That’s not only fine, that’s good. It’s through disagreement that earnest dialogue is begun. It’s through dialogue that people come to deeper understanding of a topic. It’s through that quest for deeper understanding that we learn more and more about this awesome God we serve. It’s through that deeper understanding of God’s glory that we develop deeper and better love for one another and for the world.

I won’t be the person who chooses hatred or disagreement instead. I will be the person who chooses love.

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Word of the Week – Interest

Word of the Week – Interest

It can be so fascinating to look at the history of incredibly common words. And the history of interest is definitely, well…interesting. 😉

When we think about our common uses of the word today, we probably think first of the meaning “a feeling that accompanies or causes special attention to something or someone.” According to Merriam-Webster, that is the first definition. Second is “advantage, benefit” (think self-interest). Then comes “a charge for borrowed money.” And finally, “right, title, or legal share in something.”

Well, when looking at the history of the word, reverse the order of those definitions. Interest joined English in the mid-1400s, coming to us from French to mean “a claim or legal right.” The French word actually meant “claim or legal harm,” and it in turn came from the Latin word of the same spelling, which means “it is important, it makes a difference.”

So the first meaning of interest was the legal one. Then came the financial meaning, around 1520, then “advantage” around 1620, and our current first meaning of “feeling of curiosity or that something is of concern” didn’t come around until–get this–the 1770s! Who knew it was that recent?!

These are of course for the noun uses, but the verb and adjective variations evolved similarly. Interesting, huh?

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