The Threads Blog
Can a social experiment that throws together eight stereotypical pairs of beauties and geeks for a chance to win $250,000 yield a vision of epic integrity? It probably wasn’t what the team creating Beauty and the Geek expected when they started the show. But, as I watched the season finale last week, I was struck by the actions of one of the finalists. He was doing the right thing even though it cost him the chance to win.
Instead of giving up caffeine or sweets or something meaningless for Lent, why not strike up a new tradition? Find someone or somewhere to serve between now and Easter. It’s great way of emphasizing what you can do in gratitude to God instead of the standard approach to this 40-day period on the calendar.
It seems like everyone today wants 20- and 30-somethings. Music companies want you. Politicians want you. The armed services want you.
But does the church really want you? Does today’s church really want you to be a part of the family?
It’s a great question. So what is the REAL answer?
I’ve been listening to a lot of Snow Patrol lately, and there is one lyric that especially catches in my head -
“It’s not as easy as willing it all to be right Gotta be more than hoping it’s right I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it Collapse into me, tired with joy…”
It says so much to me about what I want my life to be about.
Sometimes what I don’t want… comes from me. “For I do not understand what I am doing, because I do not practice what I want to do, but I do what I hate.” It’s really not as easy as willing it all to be right. We’ve got to be more than hoping we’re right. We make choices. I know that, for me, it’s a daily choice I have to make to stop and listen. It’s a choice that doesn’t come naturally. I’m very headstrong. I very much want to take control of my situation. I’m wrestling with it daily.
This month has been a killer. In four weeks, I have had six migraines. Each migraine lasts at its peak pain for at least five hours, even when I take prescription medicine. Then, they create lasting malaise for several more hours. The day after, I feel washed out, mentally numb, physically drained and weak, and emotionally exhausted.
I just want a mother’s arms around me, saying, “You’re going to get through this. It won’t be like this forever,” and stroke my hair with sympathetic words of, “you poor thing.”