Day Twelve

Thoughtful About . . . Who We Get to Be

by Roseanna White | Dec 7, 2017 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I’ve had several ideas lately for Thoughtful posts. But it seems like every week, I run out of time, and blogging slips down my to-do list until it falls off the edge. =/ So when I pulled up a new post today, I’m not sure why I typed into that title line “Who We Get to Be.” But I had no desire to delete it. So let’s see where my fingers and my still-sleepy mind take me.

In part, I think my thoughts originated a month ago, with that horrific church shooting. When my husband said on the way home from Bible study, “When are people going to realize that it isn’t the guns doing this–it isn’t the people doing this. It’s the hatred that has such a stranglehold on this country.”

Or maybe it’s from a post my sister, just a few months away from her last cancer treatment, said on Facebook yesterday:

“We live in a society that seems to focus on the negative… the news, your FB feed, the magazine covers in the check out line…I’m just about in tears as I scroll through FB and read the self hate and the harsh words towards others. So many people are fighting battles every day that we don’t know about
or see! We can’t even imagine the thoughts going through the minds of
others and one small kind word or act could make their day or even
change their hearts. I’m here to tell
you I have experienced more kindness from family, friends and complete
strangers in the last few months than I could even imagine. I’ve had
strangers stop me to pray with me on days I really needed it, I had a
lady who I rented a condo from for a treatment to tell me if I ever
needed to stay there again it would be free, I have a girl who walked
the same path and was put into contact with me but doesn’t know me send
me messages; on days when I seemed to need them the most! Those are just
a few examples folks! Can we please spread love and Joy instead of
negativity?”

Or maybe it’s just the continued realization as I type up responses to emails or messages or smile at someone on the street: We get to choose how those people see us. We get to decide what kind of us we’re going to be. We get to determine whether we’re ruled by bitterness or love.

Hate does have a stranglehold on our nation. Hatred for the president (what happened to respecting the office even if you don’t like the man? I didn’t vote for Trump. But he’s now my president. MY president. Just as Obama was–who I also didn’t vote for. Why would I wish any of my presidents failure?? Isn’t that then MY failure, as they represent me?). Hatred for whoever believes differently on moral issues (What, you’re for/against homosexual marriage? Then you’re EVIL! It doesn’t matter where your belief comes from, it’s different from mine, and therefore you deserve no respect). Hatred  for those who believe differently on political issues (You own guns? When are you going to wake up and realize you’re part of the problem? You’re for gun control? You might as well stomp on the Constitution!). Hatred for those who say “Happy Holidays.” Or who say “Merry Christmas.”

We live in a society that has forgotten how to listen. That can’t fathom respect. And we, who claim to have the Light of the World living inside us, all too often add to that darkness.

But we get to decide, don’t we? We get to decide whether it’s words of love or hate that spill from our lips. We get to decide whether we meet bitterness with a smile and a prayer or with bitterness of our own. We get to decide whether we live by love or hatred.

I remember years and years ago, when I was working on the edits for Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland–my first book published with a company other than my own–I had an epiphany as I composed an email in response to some of my editors’ suggestions.

I get to decide, right now, what kind of author I’m going to be. I can be the kind that argues and snarls and resents every suggestion–the kind that will make editors groan when they see my name pop up in their inbox. Or I can be the kind that greets suggestions with enthusiasm and goes out of my way to make my editors know I value their opinion. Readers will never know how I interact with my publishing team. But they know. They know, they sense, they talk among themselves. And the kind of author I choose to be with them could likely determine whether they want to work with me in the future.

This is the same in all other aspects of life. In how we deal with our families. With our neighbors. With our churches. With the stranger in the supermarket line. It’s true of our online presence. It’s true of our in-person presence.

We get to choose. We get to choose who we are. According to the Bible, we get to be new creatures because of what Jesus did for us. We get to leave behind all the darkness and sin. We get to be perfect. We get to be saints. We get to be His.

So why are we still acting like the world?

We get to be joyful. We get to boast in our tribulations and troubles. We get to glory in insufficiency. We get to show the world that God is so much, even when life offers us so little.

We get to be Jesus to those hurting people around us.

What an awe-inspiring title. Not Employee of the Year, Best-Selling Author, Attorney at Law…not Best Mother or Award Winner or Millionaire.

Christ follower.

Sometimes that just blows me away. That we get to be that Light for Him.

We don’t just choose to believe. Choose to profess. We have to choose to live it. To be it. And then to watch the world around us change in response.

Thoughtful About . . . A Living Water Faith

by Roseanna White | Nov 2, 2017 | Thoughtful Thursdays

There’s an old-world definition of “living water”–it means water that moves. Dead waters are stagnant–you don’t want to drink from them, and sometimes things can’t even live in them.

For instance, the Dead Sea. Now, this place is pretty amazing in a lot of ways. The salt content in so high that nothing can live in the waters. So high that you get salt cubes littering the shore and chunks of it floating in the water like icebergs. We’ve all probably heard the stories about how easy it is to float, and how quickly the water heals cuts or scrapes on your skin.

Why is the Dead Sea so salty? Because the Jordan river flows in, but then it stops. There’s no outlet. The water simply evaporates in the heat. It’s dead, not just because the salinity is so high that nothing can live there, but because the water doesn’t move.

In contrast is the Sea of Galilee, which is fresh water. The same Jordan river flows in, flows out. Plus, it’s fed from underground springs. This is living water. Fresh and clean and teeming with life.

That’s what our faith is supposed to be.

My dad preached on this last weekend, and it really spoke to me. He started with John 7:37-38:

37 On the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. 38 He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” (Emphasis mine. NKJV)

 Somehow, through all the times I’ve read John, I’d never caught that before. Whenever I think of living water, I think of it being Jesus–I remember the woman at the well, and how our Lord promises that He can give a living water that will make us thirst no more. Jesus is the living water.

But then there’s that part in bold above. He comes into the hearts of those believe in Him–and then what?

 Living water–moving water. Fresh water. He comes in . . . and He needs to flow out. We need to be fed with His words, with His truth, with His salvation, yes–but that can’t be the end of it. We can’t just hold it all in and think we’re good. That we’re saved, so that’s all that matters. 

We can’t stagnate. We have to move. Our faith has to move. It has to flow back out to the rest of the dry and thirsty world.


In our Bible study on Wednesday nights, we’ve been reading Romans. In 2:16, Paul is talking about about how the law is written on the hearts of men and that God will judge them, through Jesus, according to “my gospel.” My husband, ever amazing at digging deep into the wording, asked “Why does Paul call it his Gospel here? Isn’t it usually called Christ’s gospel?”


We went back and forth with it for a while, and eventually I said something I thought was kinda simplistic, but which everyone loved: that Paul is owning it. He’s taking the Gospel inside him and then sharing it, so fully unashamed, so fully committed to it that he’s willing to call it his own.


That’s the living water faith we all need to have. The kind that takes it in. That lives through it and by it. And that sends it out again to nourish others.


Father, let your Living Water spring up within us. Let it fill all the parches and empty places in our souls. And let our spirits’ cups then so overflow with you that we have no choice but to spill out your goodness for those around us. Let us be the fresh spring in a bitter world. The life among the dead. Let us be a fountain of your glory.
 

Thoughtful About . . . The Journey to Mom

by Roseanna White | Sep 28, 2017 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Thoughtful About . . . A God Who Loves

by Roseanna White | Sep 21, 2017 | Thoughtful Thursdays

As so typically happens, I’ve been letting ideas simmer in the back of my mind that combine my current Bible reading, things I’ve been reading to my kids, and conversations and sermons from church. I love when all these lines cross and combine to lead me to a knew understanding of our Lord.

So at the beginning of summer, I decided I’d break out a new Bible I’ve had sitting there for a couple years–one I requested for my birthday along with another. And I’ve requested another since. (What, some people only have one??) This one is called the So That’s Why! Bible, and it’s a chronological (which is how I found it, when searching for those) Bible that is full of cultural and historical notes–my kind of footnote!

I’m nearly finished Exodus in this Bible now, and going through those early history sections has been so educational, with all the cross-cultural highlights and notes the book provides. Genesis especially is rich in stories from other cultures that bear a resemblance to the ones shared in that first book of the Bible, and it’s hammered home something so important to me.

In all these other stories, you have the same basic kernels–the ones that long ago convinced me they’re telling the same stories, just that they’d been twisted over the centuries. That they took that basic understanding of what happened and then changed things here and there. But no matter how similar some of these stories–the many flood tales, Gilgamesh, etc.–are on the surface, there’s one very key difference between how others cultures told the tales and how the Bible does. And the difference is this:

God loves us.

In all the other ancient societies, the gods are to be feared. They are to be placated. They are not understood. They crave human blood and sacrifice, and they delight in tormenting mere mortals, or playing with them for their own entertainment.

Our God is so very different. Our God shows his love to humanity. He seeks to show us the pure way, the righteous way, the best way. Our God demonstrates mercy, and even punishment is handed down not because He takes Joy in our suffering, but because discipline is a necessary part of discipleship–a part of teaching and learning.

As I read through Genesis this time, I had just recently read some arguments by Christians who are of the mind that this book of the Bible isn’t supposed to be treated as fact, necessarily, but rather as a redefinition for the ancient world of how God really worked through these well-known tales. Now, I’m not making the above argument. I’m merely saying that as I went through Genesis this time, it was with the question of, “How is God teaching His people about Himself through these stories?”

And the answer is what I said above: God loves us.

In church, we’ve been reading Matthew, and my husband asked the question last weekend of “What ‘gospel’ was Jesus preaching? Today, our ‘gospel’ includes the news of His death and resurrection, but that wasn’t a part of his actual teachings to the masses yet, right? So what was this good news? And why was it always accompanied by healing and miracles?”

My answer: God loves us.

This was the awe-inspiring, amazing, unheard-of message that Jesus was preaching. That He was inviting everyone to see anew in the Scriptures of old. This is the whole reason He came, and the reason He spent so much of his time demonstrating God’s love rather than His authority or dominion. Our Messiah didn’t come to conquer nations–He came to show the heart of the Father to the people.

In our homeschool, I’ve been reading a little book to the kids called But Don’t All Religions Lead to God? by Dr. Michael Green. It’s a short book, but it’s packed full with wonderful information on what sets Christianity apart from all the other religions in the world. And the main thing?

God loves us.

No other religion, no other faith, seeks to demonstrate this. None other offers a means for closing the gap between man and God. No other says, “It’s not what you do–it’s what God’s done.”

God loves us.

We know it, and we say it so many times. But how often do we really pause to examine the miracle in the statement? That unlike every other god worshiped in ancient days, unlike every other lifestyle or religion prevalent today, ours has not only a Creator, but a Father.

Thank you, Lord, for loving us so much. It makes all the difference.

Thoughtful About . . . Found in Surrender

by Roseanna White | Sep 14, 2017 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Last week we passed an idyllic seven days at the beach in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I expected to have a great time–and I did. I had a fabulous time. We generally do. But as a mama, I’ve also known my fair share of vacation frustrations.

Because you don’t get a break from mommy responsibilities, right? Even now, when my kids are older, it isn’t as though they’re adults, out doing their own thing. They want me to build a sandcastle. And dig a moat. And dig a hole. And build a wall. Swim again, whether I’m ready to move or not. They still need to eat (the nerve!) and have someone to remind them to do those oh-so-crazy things like shower and brush their teeth.

I admit it. There have been times–many of them–on vacation or holidays when I had in mind what I wanted to do, and I got a bit frustrated when that went by the wayside in favor of what they wanted me to do.

I was determined to do it differently this time. And so I told myself from the start that if the kids wanted to build, we’d build. If they wanted to hunt for shells, off we’d go. I’d set aside my desires for this vacation and instead focus on theirs.

Crazy thing. Wanna take a guess how that went?

I had an absolute blast. And–and–I ended up with more time to do what I wanted (which is to say, read, LOL) than I ever have before on a vacation since those kiddos came along.

As I was contemplating this toward the end of the week, I realized it was a surrender, that decision. Not a surrender to them, but a surrender of me. I was still Mama, still the one with veto power, and yes, I still said things like, “Sure, sweetie, but can you give five minutes to warm up first?” But I’d already put that I-want on hold in my mind. It wasn’t there, it wasn’t allowed. And because I’d already dealt with it, it left me with this beautiful, sweet thing: peace.

I rather wish it hadn’t taken me so many years to figure this out–but isn’t that just like us, in life and in faith? How often do we cling to what we want to do, what we want to accomplish, what we want to be, when the treasure lies in letting it go? Giving it up and instead listening for what God will whisper?

Because when the Lord holds out His hand to me and says, “Let’s build something,” I don’t want to sigh and scowl at Him. I don’t want to be thinking, Really? Now? Don’t you know I’m busy with this other work?

I want to put my hand in His and see what we can create together. I want to let go of all the frustrations from interruptions and disappointments and give myself over to the Joy He prepares in every moment. I want to find that treasure hidden under the sand.

I want to store away hours of laughter with my family. I want to build memories for them like I have of my own childhood. I want to follow the Lord wherever He leads me. I want to stop and look at seashells, so carefully fashioned by His hand. I want to hear His whisper in the rush of the surf, or the breath of the wind, or in the silence of the night. And I want to remember that when I put aside me, I gain something oh-so-much better.

Us.