pray. - Kindness is an obligation.
Lately, there have been scriptures, devotions, songs, and podcasts that have spoken to me. There have been fragments from various places that have made me think, "I need to write this down." So, I've decided to share just a few with you along with the thoughts each have provoked.
For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well. -Psalm 139; 13-14
I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wow, what a powerful statement. Regardless of your personal religious beliefs, think about it. Fearfully and wonderfully made - how many moments in life have been fearful yet wonderful at the same time? Anything worth doing is scary wonderful. We tend to be fearful of the unknown yet so many times we jump anyway, and the jump is exhilarating. But, the unnerving part is the landing, because the landing isn't always smooth. Sometimes, we face plant. Sometimes, we stumble and fall, while other times, we stumble, fall, brush it off, and try again. Sometimes, we land feet first and keep running. Regardless how ugly the landing, it's always wonderful. In those moments of failure, we learn more about ourselves than we ever do in our successes. Failure motivates and feeds creativity, problem solving, and determination. The fear of failing again and again and again drives the mind, body, heart, and soul to keep pushing the limits. The journey from failure to success is wonderful. When the Divine was forming us, He knew we would fail him miserably, but He made us anyway. Not only did He make us, He made us intentionally. And, He made us with love. He made each and every one of us full of wonder.
...my real and true identity, doesn't start with me, or my broken world, or people who've hurt me... - Real Identity by Thaddeus Barnum
My mom, grandma, and great aunt started taking me to church as a young child. I grew up going to a small Methodist church in Juliette, Georgia where judgments were past weekly, but everyone smiled and hugged you anyway. At this particular church, Ms. Sandra was our pastor. She was an angel - an amazing, peaceful woman. So peaceful, you could hear it in her voice and feel peace transfer to you from the kindness in her eyes.
My dad refused to go with us, and I feel my mom started taking us because of my dad. I think she felt lost and felt going to church could help bring us closer to God, which would in turn bring my dad closer to God, which in turn would change who he was. It would possibly change him into a "better man" and a man who wasn't known as a violent drunk - into a the man who fought his addiction and won because he loved his family more. At least that's my adult interpretation of it.
The odd thing is my dad's family was church goers and always had been. Yet, I remember his resentment for church stemming from his past. I don't know why. But, his world was broken, and he allowed people who had hurt him control his identity. Throughout my 32 years, I've met numerous people like my dad. They have this built up tension, resentment, dislike, and hurt toward organized religion. Most of their negativity stems from past experiences.
Reading this passage pierced my chest, because I've allowed my own identity to start with me and my broken world and all those who have hurt me. It's a harsh truth about myself. I'm one of those people who built a wall around organized religion, love, and trust because of past experiences. And, I've allowed my identity to start with me, I've struggled with my own interpretation of religion and with my own faith. But, when I erased everyone else's factors and definitions, I found my own pilgrimage, my own comfort, and my own faith in the belief of a power which stems far beyond all of us and is stronger, deeper, and more meaningful. I was created out of love because the world was intentionally created with love even when He knew we wouldn't always spread the love.
The way you express love for God is by the way you show love and act on a daily basis...There's a difference between a good deed and a commandment. A good deed is usually something you do because want to do it or feel good. A commandment, it doesn't matter if you want to do it or not. You are required to do it...You have obligations in the world. If you see someone who is on the street and needs food, it's not about, "I feel like I want to give them some food today." No, you are obligated to give to the poor regardless of how you're feeling that day. - Rabbi Joel from The Robcast podcast episode 98
How often do we give to others because we feel like giving that day or because deep down we think it'll make us look like a better person in the eyes of others? If you're honest with yourself, we're all guilty of it. Think about a time you passed a homeless person on the street and thought to yourself (or even said it to a friend) "just another hobo." Maybe you even felt a little scared and clenched your belongings a little tighter. Maybe you even started making up a story for this person like, "I bet their homeless because they're dependent on drugs." Or, maybe you wanted to help but hesitated because you were afraid the person would spend your hard earned money on booze and their next fix. I'm guilty of it, and depending on the day I'm having, I may even be brutal about it. But, how dare I take control of someone else's story. I haven't spent a second in their shoes, so who am I to tell their story? Even if it's only in my head?
A couple years ago, I went to see a friend's band play at a local restaurant/bar. I met some people there. Matt was sick and unable to go, so I went alone. The night was fun. It was a cold night - dead winter. An older gray headed man came in. He looked as if he hadn't bathed in a while. He was skinny and frail. He was carrying a backpack that looked loaded and heavy. He ordered a water or a sweet tea. When he came in and had a seat, the patrons of this establishment (myself included) noticed him and stared. You could see and hear people whispering and looking in his direction. Suddenly, everyone was obsessed with this man's story. I sat there feeling guilty because initially I wanted to go over, sit beside him, and ask him his story. For all I knew, he was backpacking across the country for charity. Or, maybe he was homeless and trying to escape the bitter cold. But, who am I to tell his story? Who am I to judge him by his rugged look and wrinkled face? I don't know the life events that caused those wrinkles. My heart was tugging at me. Go talk to him. But, I was scared. Scared of what others would think including my friends. By the time I gained the courage, he gathered his things and walked out of the door. When I got home that night, I sat down with my husband and neighbors. I told them about this man, and I started crying. I had let myself down, and it hurt my heart that others were creating a life for this man instead of letting his life become part of their story. I disobeyed a commandment that night. It broke my heart, and instilled such disappointment within myself. I find myself praying for this man often. I find myself praying for a lot of misfortunes like a man sleeping on a cold bench in the freezing elements of nature near the library with no socks. Instead of looking and passing him over, I should be giving him my socks and a prayer.
#kindnessisanobligation #giveupyoursocks #prayforlove
For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well. -Psalm 139; 13-14
I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wow, what a powerful statement. Regardless of your personal religious beliefs, think about it. Fearfully and wonderfully made - how many moments in life have been fearful yet wonderful at the same time? Anything worth doing is scary wonderful. We tend to be fearful of the unknown yet so many times we jump anyway, and the jump is exhilarating. But, the unnerving part is the landing, because the landing isn't always smooth. Sometimes, we face plant. Sometimes, we stumble and fall, while other times, we stumble, fall, brush it off, and try again. Sometimes, we land feet first and keep running. Regardless how ugly the landing, it's always wonderful. In those moments of failure, we learn more about ourselves than we ever do in our successes. Failure motivates and feeds creativity, problem solving, and determination. The fear of failing again and again and again drives the mind, body, heart, and soul to keep pushing the limits. The journey from failure to success is wonderful. When the Divine was forming us, He knew we would fail him miserably, but He made us anyway. Not only did He make us, He made us intentionally. And, He made us with love. He made each and every one of us full of wonder.
...my real and true identity, doesn't start with me, or my broken world, or people who've hurt me... - Real Identity by Thaddeus Barnum
My mom, grandma, and great aunt started taking me to church as a young child. I grew up going to a small Methodist church in Juliette, Georgia where judgments were past weekly, but everyone smiled and hugged you anyway. At this particular church, Ms. Sandra was our pastor. She was an angel - an amazing, peaceful woman. So peaceful, you could hear it in her voice and feel peace transfer to you from the kindness in her eyes.
My dad refused to go with us, and I feel my mom started taking us because of my dad. I think she felt lost and felt going to church could help bring us closer to God, which would in turn bring my dad closer to God, which in turn would change who he was. It would possibly change him into a "better man" and a man who wasn't known as a violent drunk - into a the man who fought his addiction and won because he loved his family more. At least that's my adult interpretation of it.
The odd thing is my dad's family was church goers and always had been. Yet, I remember his resentment for church stemming from his past. I don't know why. But, his world was broken, and he allowed people who had hurt him control his identity. Throughout my 32 years, I've met numerous people like my dad. They have this built up tension, resentment, dislike, and hurt toward organized religion. Most of their negativity stems from past experiences.
Reading this passage pierced my chest, because I've allowed my own identity to start with me and my broken world and all those who have hurt me. It's a harsh truth about myself. I'm one of those people who built a wall around organized religion, love, and trust because of past experiences. And, I've allowed my identity to start with me, I've struggled with my own interpretation of religion and with my own faith. But, when I erased everyone else's factors and definitions, I found my own pilgrimage, my own comfort, and my own faith in the belief of a power which stems far beyond all of us and is stronger, deeper, and more meaningful. I was created out of love because the world was intentionally created with love even when He knew we wouldn't always spread the love.
The way you express love for God is by the way you show love and act on a daily basis...There's a difference between a good deed and a commandment. A good deed is usually something you do because want to do it or feel good. A commandment, it doesn't matter if you want to do it or not. You are required to do it...You have obligations in the world. If you see someone who is on the street and needs food, it's not about, "I feel like I want to give them some food today." No, you are obligated to give to the poor regardless of how you're feeling that day. - Rabbi Joel from The Robcast podcast episode 98
How often do we give to others because we feel like giving that day or because deep down we think it'll make us look like a better person in the eyes of others? If you're honest with yourself, we're all guilty of it. Think about a time you passed a homeless person on the street and thought to yourself (or even said it to a friend) "just another hobo." Maybe you even felt a little scared and clenched your belongings a little tighter. Maybe you even started making up a story for this person like, "I bet their homeless because they're dependent on drugs." Or, maybe you wanted to help but hesitated because you were afraid the person would spend your hard earned money on booze and their next fix. I'm guilty of it, and depending on the day I'm having, I may even be brutal about it. But, how dare I take control of someone else's story. I haven't spent a second in their shoes, so who am I to tell their story? Even if it's only in my head?
A couple years ago, I went to see a friend's band play at a local restaurant/bar. I met some people there. Matt was sick and unable to go, so I went alone. The night was fun. It was a cold night - dead winter. An older gray headed man came in. He looked as if he hadn't bathed in a while. He was skinny and frail. He was carrying a backpack that looked loaded and heavy. He ordered a water or a sweet tea. When he came in and had a seat, the patrons of this establishment (myself included) noticed him and stared. You could see and hear people whispering and looking in his direction. Suddenly, everyone was obsessed with this man's story. I sat there feeling guilty because initially I wanted to go over, sit beside him, and ask him his story. For all I knew, he was backpacking across the country for charity. Or, maybe he was homeless and trying to escape the bitter cold. But, who am I to tell his story? Who am I to judge him by his rugged look and wrinkled face? I don't know the life events that caused those wrinkles. My heart was tugging at me. Go talk to him. But, I was scared. Scared of what others would think including my friends. By the time I gained the courage, he gathered his things and walked out of the door. When I got home that night, I sat down with my husband and neighbors. I told them about this man, and I started crying. I had let myself down, and it hurt my heart that others were creating a life for this man instead of letting his life become part of their story. I disobeyed a commandment that night. It broke my heart, and instilled such disappointment within myself. I find myself praying for this man often. I find myself praying for a lot of misfortunes like a man sleeping on a cold bench in the freezing elements of nature near the library with no socks. Instead of looking and passing him over, I should be giving him my socks and a prayer.
#kindnessisanobligation #giveupyoursocks #prayforlove
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