Distance from east to west across the state of Tennessee: 440 miles.
Distance from east to west across the continental United States: approximately 3,148 miles.
Distance from east to west across Earth (diameter): approximately 8,000 miles.
Distance from east to west from the sun to Pluto (yes, I still count Pluto as part of the solar system): 5,906,376,272 kilometers.
Distance from east to west across the Milky Way: approximately 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilometers.
Distance from east to west across the visible universe: approximately 28 billion light years (one light year = 9,500,000,000,000 kilometers).
****
Temptation is hard to resist, isn't it?
Think back to a time (perhaps it was recently, perhaps not) when you did something you weren't supposed to. Maybe you took something that wasn't yours. Said something ugly. Looked at something you shouldn't have.
Think of how you felt just before you did it. The appeal was so lovely, wasn't it? It drew you in like a magnet, grabbed onto your thoughts and wouldn't let go. If only......if only I could......
The force was just too much, and even though you knew, you knew it wasn't right, you did it anyway.
As a kid, I had an overly sensitive conscience. I rarely got into trouble, but I had a habit of dwelling on situations and feeling guilty about them.
What if I didn't deserve the good grade I got?
What if I unintentionally hurt that person by what I said?
One time I even told a teacher to mark down a good grade I had gotten on a test because I told her I had accidentally looked at someone else's paper. I hadn't seen any answers, but it made me feel like I had cheated, and I couldn't live with not having some sort of punishment for it.
Each week, there was something new that I obsessed about in my thought life. Feeling guilty. Feeling like I ought to be punished. Feeling like I didn't deserve to be forgiven.
My mother noticed how preoccupied I had gotten with these sorts of things, and she pulled me out of my room one sunny afternoon to watch a Beth Moore video with her. The video accompanied a Bible study my mom was doing at the time about the life of David. I was quickly enamored with Beth's vivacious personality and engaging speaking style.
She began to talk about David's sin of lusting after Bathsheba. Which led to adultery. Which led to lies. Which led to murder.
David was looking pretty bad. And yet, Beth said, when he finally repented--truly repented--God forgave him. He forgave him. Yes, his actions still had consequences (the baby he conceived with Bathsheba died), but the beautiful thing is that once God forgave him, that was it. He didn't hold it against him.
And you know what else? God even called David a man after His own heart!
Really? A liar? An adulterer? A murderer? You've got to be kidding!
But it's true! If we're ready to come back to Him, He's ready to take us back. And He loves us no less.
Looking back, I really don't think I had done anything truly wrong in those instances that I mulled over as a kid (I know that those thoughts weren't healthy, and I no longer have those). But there have certainly been times in my life where I have committed a sin...and even though I knew it was wrong, I did it anyway. And I kept doing it.
Gossip. Destructive speech. Arrogance. Judging others.
And time and time again, the Holy Spirit will prick my heart and remind me that I really shouldn't be doing it. And when I fall to my knees in repentance, I don't have to fear that He'll cross His arms and turn a cold shoulder to me.
Quite the opposite!
Listen to the glorious words of Psalm 103: 8-10, 12:
The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger and full of faithful love.
He will not always accuse us
or be angry forever.
He has not dealt with us as our sins deserve
or repaid us according to our offenses.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far has He removed our transgressions from us.
Is there something you've done that you feel terrible about? Stop waiting for your punishment and start looking for His grace.
He isn't waiting to tell you that He told you so. He isn't waiting to make you feel like the lowest of the low. He died for you so that you wouldn't have to feel that way.
He loves you. And He misses you when you're gone.
And all this brings me back to one more distance...
****
Distance east to west from you and your forgiven sin: "one scarred hand to the other."
(Casting Crowns, "East to West")
"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." ~ 1 John 1:9
Learning to Soar for Jesus
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
When I Am Weak
There are many things I can't do.
I can't whistle.
I can't sing a solo.
I can't play the violin.
As a kid in elementary school, it became quickly evident that I can't do anything athletic. Well, I can't do it well.
I was always a good student, save for PE class. It wasn't that I didn't try--I had tried and failed miserably in the past, and so I resigned myself to the fact that I was no good at sports. I brought up the rear when running the mile. If I was placed on the chin-up bar, I would dangle there sheepishly until the coach yelled at me and told me to get down. It was especially embarrassing if we had to announce to the teacher in front of the whole grade how many push-ups we had done in a one-minute time span.
It would go something like this...
****
"Jones?"
"27!"
"Awesome. McDonald?"
"30!"
"Fantastic! Smith?"
Silence.
"[Clears throat.] Smith?"
"[Quietly] Um, 3."
****
Every year in PE class, we did a series of athletic activities--push-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, sit-and-reach, races--and if our results were within certain ranges, we got a patch representing which level we had reached. The blue was the best patch, red second best. I always qualified for the ugly banana yellow patch (which, basically, I could have done zero of everything and gotten that). I never bothered to pay money to have a stitched reminder that I was only good enough for last place.
I coveted the red and blue patches. It wasn't that they were prettier or more expensive. But it meant that the owner was capable. Better. Strong.
One of my last years in PE, I decided I wasn't going to let anything stop me from getting a red patch (let's face it: the blue was out of the question). With every event, I put my heart and soul into it. I reached farther; got stronger; ran faster.
I was on the cusp of a red patch when I came to my final event--the relay race. I was placed on a team with three of my classmates. We were spaced evenly around the track and instructed to run with a baton and hand it off once we got to the next runner.
As luck would have it, I was the last runner, and it was up to me to get across the finish line within a certain time.
My red patch depended on it.
Thankfully, my teammates were all fast runners. I watched in awe as they rocketed lickety-split around the corners of the track. Their legs were moving so fast that my eyes couldn't keep up.
And then it was time. It was my turn.
As the stopwatch continued to count the seconds, the cold metal of the baton was placed deliberately in my nervous hand. My feet left their starting spot as fast as they could, but my opponents began to pull ahead, despite my head start.
My teacher, who knew how desperately I wanted that red patch, yelled cheers of encouragement my way as I began to look winded.
The seconds ticked. My feet were slowing down.
The red patch was slipping through my fingers.
Suddenly, I saw my teacher running toward me. Soon, she was next to me, running with me.
"You've got to move faster," she shouted. "You're so close. You're so close!"
I shook my head and hung it in disappointment. I just couldn't do it. I just wasn't fast enough.
It was at that moment that my teacher grabbed my hand. She ran ahead of me, and the force of her grip and speed caused my feet to accelerate. The breeze picked up in my ponytail, and for the first time, my sluggish feet finally felt what it was like to run fast. She pulled me the rest of the way, and I crossed the finish line at the last second.
Because of my teacher, I could do it. Because of her, I got my first and only red patch.
It's hard to admit when I'm weak, when I can't do something on my own. I don't enjoy asking people for help because I feel like I should be able to do it myself. Being independent means I'm capable. Dependence on others makes me feel like I'm incapable, lousy, and a failure.
But you know what? The Bible doesn't just tell us to accept our weaknesses. It tells us to boast in them! That sounds strange, doesn't it? Can you imagine some skinny, pale guy high-fiving his way through a gym as he shouts, "Guess what! I'm a weakling! Isn't that awesome?!"
It sounds ridiculous, but our weaknesses are important. They're vital.
There's a beautiful thread throughout the Bible of God using the weak. Think about it...
Moses was a horrible public speaker and even suffered from a speech problem...
Yet God used his lips to tell Pharaoh to let his people go...
David was several feet shorter than Goliath and too small for a decent suit of armor...
Yet God used David's hand and a single stone to fell a mighty warrior...
Sarah's womb was barren...
Yet God used her and Abraham to parent a multitude of nations, even after the age of 100...
It doesn't matter what you can and can't do--don't tell God that He can't use you!
The most beautiful part of our weaknesses is that the holes in our abilities let His strength shine through. When we aren't able to do it alone, the story stops being about us and becomes magnificently about Him. It becomes about how He can conquer, how He can overcome, how He can effect change.
If you were strong and great at everything, you wouldn't look to Him. If we were all perfect, it would eliminate the need for a Savior.
You can't, but He can.
If you will only be willing to be a part of His plan, of His great story, He can use you.
Your speech may not be the most eloquent...but He can speak through you.
Your strength may be dwindling...but He can direct the aim and the force of the stone.
Your feet may be slowing, and as the timer ticks, the finish line may seem a million miles away...but He can pull you through.
Quit shaking your head in discouragement. He's got your hand. He's got this.
Take His hand, and run like the wind.
"That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." ~ 2 Corinthians 12:10
I can't whistle.
I can't sing a solo.
I can't play the violin.
As a kid in elementary school, it became quickly evident that I can't do anything athletic. Well, I can't do it well.
I was always a good student, save for PE class. It wasn't that I didn't try--I had tried and failed miserably in the past, and so I resigned myself to the fact that I was no good at sports. I brought up the rear when running the mile. If I was placed on the chin-up bar, I would dangle there sheepishly until the coach yelled at me and told me to get down. It was especially embarrassing if we had to announce to the teacher in front of the whole grade how many push-ups we had done in a one-minute time span.
It would go something like this...
****
"Jones?"
"27!"
"Awesome. McDonald?"
"30!"
"Fantastic! Smith?"
Silence.
"[Clears throat.] Smith?"
"[Quietly] Um, 3."
****
Every year in PE class, we did a series of athletic activities--push-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, sit-and-reach, races--and if our results were within certain ranges, we got a patch representing which level we had reached. The blue was the best patch, red second best. I always qualified for the ugly banana yellow patch (which, basically, I could have done zero of everything and gotten that). I never bothered to pay money to have a stitched reminder that I was only good enough for last place.
I coveted the red and blue patches. It wasn't that they were prettier or more expensive. But it meant that the owner was capable. Better. Strong.
One of my last years in PE, I decided I wasn't going to let anything stop me from getting a red patch (let's face it: the blue was out of the question). With every event, I put my heart and soul into it. I reached farther; got stronger; ran faster.
I was on the cusp of a red patch when I came to my final event--the relay race. I was placed on a team with three of my classmates. We were spaced evenly around the track and instructed to run with a baton and hand it off once we got to the next runner.
As luck would have it, I was the last runner, and it was up to me to get across the finish line within a certain time.
My red patch depended on it.
Thankfully, my teammates were all fast runners. I watched in awe as they rocketed lickety-split around the corners of the track. Their legs were moving so fast that my eyes couldn't keep up.
And then it was time. It was my turn.
As the stopwatch continued to count the seconds, the cold metal of the baton was placed deliberately in my nervous hand. My feet left their starting spot as fast as they could, but my opponents began to pull ahead, despite my head start.
My teacher, who knew how desperately I wanted that red patch, yelled cheers of encouragement my way as I began to look winded.
The seconds ticked. My feet were slowing down.
The red patch was slipping through my fingers.
Suddenly, I saw my teacher running toward me. Soon, she was next to me, running with me.
"You've got to move faster," she shouted. "You're so close. You're so close!"
I shook my head and hung it in disappointment. I just couldn't do it. I just wasn't fast enough.
It was at that moment that my teacher grabbed my hand. She ran ahead of me, and the force of her grip and speed caused my feet to accelerate. The breeze picked up in my ponytail, and for the first time, my sluggish feet finally felt what it was like to run fast. She pulled me the rest of the way, and I crossed the finish line at the last second.
Because of my teacher, I could do it. Because of her, I got my first and only red patch.
It's hard to admit when I'm weak, when I can't do something on my own. I don't enjoy asking people for help because I feel like I should be able to do it myself. Being independent means I'm capable. Dependence on others makes me feel like I'm incapable, lousy, and a failure.
But you know what? The Bible doesn't just tell us to accept our weaknesses. It tells us to boast in them! That sounds strange, doesn't it? Can you imagine some skinny, pale guy high-fiving his way through a gym as he shouts, "Guess what! I'm a weakling! Isn't that awesome?!"
It sounds ridiculous, but our weaknesses are important. They're vital.
There's a beautiful thread throughout the Bible of God using the weak. Think about it...
Moses was a horrible public speaker and even suffered from a speech problem...
Yet God used his lips to tell Pharaoh to let his people go...
David was several feet shorter than Goliath and too small for a decent suit of armor...
Yet God used David's hand and a single stone to fell a mighty warrior...
Sarah's womb was barren...
Yet God used her and Abraham to parent a multitude of nations, even after the age of 100...
It doesn't matter what you can and can't do--don't tell God that He can't use you!
The most beautiful part of our weaknesses is that the holes in our abilities let His strength shine through. When we aren't able to do it alone, the story stops being about us and becomes magnificently about Him. It becomes about how He can conquer, how He can overcome, how He can effect change.
If you were strong and great at everything, you wouldn't look to Him. If we were all perfect, it would eliminate the need for a Savior.
You can't, but He can.
If you will only be willing to be a part of His plan, of His great story, He can use you.
Your speech may not be the most eloquent...but He can speak through you.
Your strength may be dwindling...but He can direct the aim and the force of the stone.
Your feet may be slowing, and as the timer ticks, the finish line may seem a million miles away...but He can pull you through.
Quit shaking your head in discouragement. He's got your hand. He's got this.
Take His hand, and run like the wind.
"That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." ~ 2 Corinthians 12:10
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