Lion and Lambs

A change of pace for a Sunday message.

With Easter coming up soon, I have been reflecting on “The Passion of the Christ” again. I had to close my eyes through most of the movie, as the pain inflicted on my Lord, for my sake, was too much to bear. I sat with eyes closed, tears pouring down from shoulder shaking sobs. I, as one of many, vowed to change my ways at the realization of the pain my sins had caused Him. And I did … for a time. As the shock of 911, and the ensuing patriotism has worn off, the impact of “The Passion” has worn down as well.

Those of us who are Christian have heard of the atoning sacrifice over and over and over again. We hear it so much, that we do not appreciate it. We know the story so well, do we really listen when it is spoken about?

This week I heard someone say, and I am sure I have heard it before, that Jesus took the beatings, and died on the cross, so I wouldn’t have to. Only this time, I really heard it. I pictured myself in Christ’s place during those horrific scenes from the movie. Then I thought about countries where they literally cut off the hand off a person who steals, countries that practice an eye for an eye. I understand that their crime rates are much, much lower than ours. How would we behave if God still practiced an eye for an eye with us. How long would we have to contemplate a sin, if we knew the consequence was the cross?

Fortunately for us we live by grace, Christ did die for us, to cleanse us from ALL unrighteousness. And the knowledge of what Jesus Christ went through to save us should be a big enough deterrent, but we get callus, we take it for granted, we let it’s impact fizzle, because it is not happening to us. It is a nice story.

Reality is, Jesus was punished in our place, we do not live by fear. Any sin can be justified when we do not sit under judgement, when the cost of the sin has already been paid.

But what if it wasn’t…….

Okay, I missed last night because after decorating easter boxes for Shoebox Ministry, I needed to get to bed. After all I was having a massage in my home this morning and I wanted to be rested up for it.

Several of my friends got together and paid for this for my birthday. An hour and a half of pure heaven. My massuer (?) played this wonderful music with ocean noises in the background. I was resting on the black sand beach in Hawaii, when there were no seagulls singing. When the seagulls came, I went to San Diego. What a beautiful gift imagination is. Needless to say I thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Then…I had to help change out my hot water heater that was leaking. What a way to change the day, and I had kept the day totally free so I could just lounge in the new relaxation mode. Oh well, guess I will have to get another massage…someday.

Now to go take a HOT bath to help re-relax those muscles …

because I can!

I almost missed the first day of my new commitment, and ya wanna know why? Right in the middle of starting to peruse the computer, my son decides he needs to have his hair cut. Okay it is not bad enough that it is almost midnight and I am exhausted, this son needs his mohawk “fixed”. I can’t stand the mohawk in the first place, but will I EVER let on to my teenager that he succeeded? All of us parents unite to say, “NO!” Friday is the one day a week that my vampire generally leaves his dungeon, so I can understand the urgency. When asked why he didn’t get me earlier, he tells me he forgot. But who gives in anyway? So now I am covered in hair shavings and will have to shower before sleep, only to extend my bedtime because I was “fixing” a haircut I despise!

Saturday night he asked me if I was going to wake him up for church. I told him it depended how I felt when I woke up. He said, “Good, then I can wear my mohawk.” Well you better believe I took that as a personal challenge, there was no way I was letting him sleep in. I am sure he hoped that he would have scared me into letting him skip. Mothers laugh at such attempts to control us. Not only did I wake him up, but I went back several times telling him that he better get up quick if he wanted time to do his hair. Foiled, he pushed it to the last minute, put on his beanie, and we were on our way. Oh yeah, that felt good.

My mother wished upon me that someday I would have a child just like me. I will guarantee I never had a mohawk, or black hair and nails, but can I wish this on him??

Okay Okay. I know posts have been too few and far between. I decided that I share enough things with other people during the day, that there MUST be something worth posting publicly. As a matter of fact, I write several things in my head when I cannot get to the computer. Then when I get to the computer, I can’t remember what I was going to write. I am sure you can all relate to this. I don’t surf enough to connect people to new and exciting, interesting, inspiring, or just plain funny things.

At any rate, I have made a new commitment to this blog. Unless I am not feeling well, I am going to make a real effort to post something everyday. I hope my life is not so boring that this will be a real challenge! Actually, it is probably more a matter of slowing down long enough to reflect… and to write.

From “A Gentle Spirit”

The end of a devotional by Joni Eareckson Tada entitled “Love is Extravagant”:

…I thought of the quality that marks the ministry of love. And that is it’s sheer extravagance. Love is extravagant in the price it is willing to pay, the time it is willing to give, the hardships it is willing to endure, and the strength it is willing to spend.
And that is what God has given to us!

I hope your day is filled to overflowing with God’s love, that you might enjoy His abundant life!!

My wonderful sister spent quite a bit of time setting up a page of so that I could have more while posting here. After all the time she spent, I was trying to figure out what I could write about to use them. Then after much I thought what a if I wasn’t creative enough to figure this one out. Then !!! Blogging is mostly just so instead of I would take a and share about how much I appreciate having emoticons. See, this is me on computers, this is my sister . I can do things after someone tells me exactly how, at least a couple of times, but even then can be seen . So when she set these up for me and I got to see them all I and was very to be able to use them. Still, I had to IM her to find out how to get them in my post. All I can say is, “Isn’t she ?” I humbly

Well, Sis Vox, Thank You So Much!!

Reading more in the journal my mother gave me really makes me realize how much we take our older relatives for granted when we are young. We love our grandparents, love grandma’s cookies, her smile, her lap. We love grandpa’s strength, his stories, maybe his pipe or cigar. But as little ones, we never appreciate who they are and how their life circumstances created them. Perhaps we didn’t even have the opportunity to know them. Such is the case with my great grandma Johnson.

From my mother’s memory and her sharing it with me, I now know that my great-grandmother came to America, from Sweden, as an indentured servant. Great Grandma was my mother’s favorite because of her great capacity for love and kindness, for making my mom feel special. She certainly could have been a bitter old woman, but in choosing the good, she helped make my mother the loving and giving person that she is. My mother states that great-grandma never had a harsh word for anyone, despite the fact that her husband died too young and she was left to raise her three sons and chose to raise at least four foster children. More reason that she could have been bitter and tolerant, rather than loving and generous. What a legacy she left, and how I would now love the opportunity to sit at her feet and listen to all the marvelous stories that made up her life, no doubt they would all have a bend toward optimism.

It is a shame that it takes until we are adults for us to become curious about our grand and great-grand relatives backgrounds. I think about how I could have benefitted from knowing my great-grandma, and then I realize that I benifitted from my mother knowing her and loving her so much. I can only pray that some of my great-grandma’s legacy somehow shines through me, because of who my mother chose to be, because of who her mother chose to be, because of who her grandmother chose to be.

In writing this, I realize that we allow a hurry up world to rob us of even our parents’ stories, stories that we could someday pass on. All my grandmother’s stories are forever locked away in her mind now, as Alzheimer’s has robbed her ability to retrieve them. I suspect her great-grandchildren aren’t concerned about the stories that are now lost, but one day they will be. Maybe we need to get back to times of sitting quietly, without modern entertainment, and share our stories, share our lives, enjoy some laughter, some enlightenment, some tears.

For Christmas, which we celebrate late, my mom gave me the neatest keepsake book. It is called “A Mother’s Journal” and has pages of questions to fill in and then pass on. It just happens to be Mary Engelbreit, whom I adore and have decorated one large room with her art. The special thing about this gift is that my mother filled it out most of the way before she gave it to me. Not only that, but she wrote my father, her ex-husband, to get some of the answers to fill in. Isn’t she amazing?!?! I have read through it and plan to re-read and re-read, as I have learned some really interesting things. Like the fact that I am Scandinavian from only three generations back. I knew that I was, but thought that it was a further distant relationship. With a name like John Johnson though… I also learned that my mom used to hide butter sandwiches behind her mother’s stove. (who can blame her?) But you see, I was under the impression that my mom was this perfect little angel daughter. I have learned that she can be quite the instigator. You know that whole do as I say and not as I do?? I got grounded for locking my little sister in the basement, with her babysitter, then I find out my mom invented a little game called “Banish to the Attic” that involved her little sister. You get the idea, and I don’t think Aunt Patty had the company of an adult! The stories of mischief are my favorite. Since she married our beloved step-father, we have seen this michievous side more and more. The problem is, we have blamed him for corrupting our angel, now through reading, and tying it to stories she and her siblings have told us, I think he only helped release something that was there all along. Thanks for letting her out!! She may regret revealing her secrets to me in this book, but I will always treasure them. Thank you mom, and thank you for being a woman whom I desire to learn more and more about. The more I know, the more I love… if that is possible.