Favorite Passages: Proverbs 30:7-9

My favorite books of the Bible have always been Proverbs and James.  Mainly because my learning style never required story problems or parables, just cold hard facts and truths.  These two books rise to the top for me for their practicality alone.  I love how they're full of "do this" and "don't do that"s.  It makes figuring out right from wrong a no-brainer and so they are the two books I turn to the most often when biblical joy-reading.

One of my favorite passages is found near the end of Proverbs, right before the famous 31st chapter. 

"Two things I ask of You, do not refuse me before I die: Keep deception and lies far from me, give me neither poverty nor riches; Feed me with the food that is my portion, that I may not be full and deny You and say, 'Who is the Lord'; or that I not be in want and steal and profane the name of my God." Proverbs 30:7-9 (NASB)

The thirtieth chapter of Proverbs was written by a man named Agur, who describes himself this way in verses 2-3, "Surely I am more stupid than any man... neither have I learned wisdom."

I love how a man with this self-description was entrusted to pen a chapter in the ultimate book of wisdom.  A major running theme throughout God's Word is that you don't have to be a theological genius to understand or obey It.

The simple idea of rejecting lies and the struggles of money and asking God to protect you from outside forces in these areas is the epitome of "simple wisdom."  I bet Agur was a very contented man who led a very joyful life.

I jotted this passage down on a note card over a decade ago when I was in a horrible job situation and taped it to my mirror.  It became a daily prayer of mine for many years.  Quickly after discovering this prayer (with my eyes and heart) I found myself miraculously in a much better workplace, not to mention mindset.  I was feeling like Agur!

Well, I let this passage slide from my forethoughts over the following years.  I rotated different passages on my mirror... sometimes forgetting about them altogether so they became more like decorative touches than inspiration and instruction.  And have rediscovered it now at a time when I find myself, once again, looking for good work.  Only this time in a very bad job market.

In the good ol' days it took 2-3 weeks to find a job when just casually looking.  I'm going on five months now of joblessness and wish I would have had the attitude of Agur earlier on in the process. 

When you're desperate and grasping, you're not often thinking in proportion.  You're not looking for your "portion" of money, but all the money in the world.  You become obsessed with being set for life instead of being set for now because, what if the next job's bottom falls out? What if you only can find temporary work?  What if this all happens again, taking even longer to recover next time?  Desperation hinders wisdom and, more often than naught, common sense even.

Truth be told, I have been given my portion.  For every day of the five months I've been unemployed.  I have yet to ask for loans or charity and my portion mathematically should satisfy me for the coming few months, if need be.  I've been eating steadily, have a roof over my head, a car to get to job interviews in and have been blessed not to have gotten sick or injured while not medically insured.  I've had enough to make ends meet.  How long this will last shouldn't be of concern because, as Christ instructed, "Do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:34)  And today, July 5, 2012 is cared for.

Well, I guess I found the answer to my Publisher's Clearinghouse prayers, since in my original prayers for portion I forgot to mention a heaping one!

Jesus Wasn't Baptist: Division in the Church

"Jesus wasn't Baptist, Jesus wasn't Catholic, Jesus wasn't Adventist, Jesus wasn't Presbyterian, Jesus wasn't Mormon and Jesus wasn't Methodist. What does an enemy do when he can't conquer?  He divides."

The above was a Facebook status update I composed about a year ago which, as you can safely assume, didn't get very many "likes".  People like their religious titles and people like to think they are the best.  And, they really don't like it being implied that Satan's sneakiness has penetrated any kind of breach in their holy ways.

It wasn't meant to be a judgmental statement, just one that made people stop and realize that there is a division in the Christian church.  If there wasn't, we wouldn't have different words on the signs out in front of them.

You see, I grew up thinking that Catholics weren't going to heaven, that some Lutherans weren't (particularly the ones who sprinkled their babies instead of dunking their grown-ups) and that pretty much only the Baptists had things entirely figured out. Maybe some Presbyterians.  (The ones who didn't drink alcohol, at least.)

I don't know why, as a child, I thought these things to be true. Whether I assumed them, was explicitly told them, if it was preached to me or if I simply just dreamed these rules up on my own.  I didn't even wholly believe it in my heart.  Most of my school friends were Catholic!  I just for some reason thought, to be a "good" Christian, I was supposed to train myself to feel that way.  And, it's very embarrassing to admit to it decades later... let me make that absolutely clear! 

***Also let me slip in this disclaimer before the hate mail floods in: This is not Baptist church doctrine. Just something I misunderstood as a youth and knew many others who misunderstood this as well.***

Do you ever stop and wonder if Christ is sitting on the right hand of our Lord right now, wondering what in His name did happen to His church?

"The church" in biblical days was simply the body of believers as a whole.  Somehow, over the centuries, the bones of this body have splintered off into too many fractures to count.  One building disagreed with another building and formed their own title to separate themselves from the others.  One preferred to focus on confession, one preferred to be solely evangelistic, while another decided that speaking in tongues was the bees knees.  This congregation will be drinking grape juice, not wine with their communion.  That congregation thinks unleavened bread tastes like flesh.  These pews have hat-wearers, those pews have covered knees and that auditorium has no pews, but folding chairs occupied with denim and tattoos. 

Some tweak the doctrine to suit their own needs. This group, omitting Scripture that is no longer politically correct.  Others, using that same Scripture (via megaphone) as a vessel for judging and condemning the politically correct.  This group is angry, that group is blissful, this group will protest, another group will meet at the bar after services.  Some meet on Sundays, some meet on Saturdays, others are overly ambitious and show up every morning or night.  And, too many think that all the others are wrong.

On my ride to teach my niece and nephews Sunday School each weekend, I can pass no less than a half-dozen churches in my fifteen minute drive.  All Christian, all different denominations.  This could be thought of as a sad thing; that these believers, all living in the same community, can't agree enough on what the Bible says to meet under one large communal roof.  But, instead I choose to be grateful that, in this day and age, people are still choosing to read the Bible at all.

It's great that believers can select a place of worship of their choosing; one where the music and preaching style suits their learning curve best.  We just have to be careful to stop saving one another from the others' congregation.  There's no bigger religious pet peeve of mine than other churches showing up on my doorstep and trying to convince my family that we're not truly saved, because we haven't been saved by their church yet.

Christ commissioned that we, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel..." (Mark 16:15)  Not that we should seek out those who say they already believe, tweak their convictions ever so slightly so they believe more correctly, and then transfer their tithes to your own church's building fund.

Division is not of God.  Christ made that clear in John 18:20-23.  The biggest confusion about the devil is believing that he's an Atheist.  He believes in God, he's just opposed to God.  Satan knows of God's existence.  He's met Him.  He knows that Jesus is God's son.  He can quote Scripture better than most humans and proved this when tempting Christ in the wilderness.  Christ was perfect and strong enough not to be fooled by twisted theology.  Many humans are not and that's when the enemy claims his small victories.

When the numbers are too large an enemy's best strategy is to divide.  So he whispers to the weak, making them feel stronger in the misbelief that they are better then the rest of the pack and need to break away.  He convinces the self-righteous that they're allowed to judge the holy and publicly condemn them.  He deceived our ancestors long ago into splintering the bones of the body of the church and left them in hundreds of piles to oppose their own.  And, it was to the enemy's delight when a little girl cast doubt that her friends might not be really believers because they went to catechism during the week instead of to Sunday school.

Children create big ideas out of small impressions.  Sending them to Sunday school (or catechism) is not enough.  Be sure to lead a non-judgemental example in the home as well.  Children, as well as new or immature believers of age, need to be milk fed before given meat, as I Corinthians 3 implores.

Put whatever sign you want on the front of your church, but remember that all churches teaching God's Word is what makes up the body of Christ.  Be on the same team whether your head is covered, your knees are showing or your denim is torn. 

Praying Hard

Years ago---in the year 2000, to be exact---I started a website on Yahoo's now defunct Geocities called Pray Hard.  Prayer has always been my main ministry in The Body (I'm shy, I'm feeble and I'm certainly no speaker!)  I had been studying intercession around that time and had one of those godly callings in the middle of the night.  You know?  Those times when you're fast asleep and are suddenly awaken by a fully formed idea that pops into your head uninvited.  One that is too wise to have been formulated on its own and that, other than in the case of divine intervention, has no business being there.

Well, the revelation that caused me to get out of bed and write it down in the middle of the night, lest I forget it by morning, was that we simply don't pray enough for others.  Maybe we pray for a selected band of others; our families, our loved ones, those people with specific requests on those pamphlets they hand out at church... and, of course, ourselves.  But, what if everyone in the world had someone praying for them.  Regularly.  Not just people you know.  Not just people you like. 

Well, being the sometimes overly-organized person I can be, I immediately devised a system.  With I Timothy 2:1-2 as my mission statement: "I exhort therefore, that...intercessions, be made for all men; For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty." the Pray Hard system was set into motion.

It's a simple system.  But, to really work, it's a system that takes commitment.  I implemented it in my own life and set time aside for it every morning, still, these twelve years later.  Are you ready?

Here's how it works [lifted and abridged from the old website]:

THE IDEA: If every believer would pray for a different 20 people every day, within 28-day cycles, we would each cover 560 people a month in prayer.  If 100 people would commit to doing this, 56,000 lives would be touched.  1,000 people would reach over half-a-million lives!  But, don't worry about the math, I've got that covered.  You say you don't even know 560 people?  Keep reading...

THE BENEFACTORS: This system covers so much more than just your inner circle.  Each day you're to include: Five family members: Don't forget extended family and the in-laws; Five friends: People you converse with on a pretty regular basis; Five aquaintances: People you may not be as close to as your regular confidants. These can be co-workers, neighbors, people you grew up with but have lost contact with, people whose names "ring a bell"... any name that can be placed with a face; One church leader: Your pastors, teachers, mentors, Christian organizations you may be involved with (ie. Church camps, your alma-mater, charities, missionaries) and their administrators; Three public figures: Movie stars, tv personalities, musicians, political figures... go for the gold here. They may just  seem like faces on billboards to you, but they're people too.  And, they're included in the "all  men" that I Timothy mentions. Be sure to use people whose work you admire as well as people you can't stand hearing about.  Add some Christian entertainers to the mix too.  They could certainly use our spiritual support, being all out there, exposed, targeted by the enemy;  One stranger: You may not know their names and that's fine. God knows them personally.  It can be a homeless person you tossed a dime to, a woman you saw crying in the restroom, a friendly store clerk, a person you saw on a talk show that you just took pity on... doesn't matter.  Be creative, be compassionate, be sincere.

THE PROCESS: Realistically, you're going to have to write this stuff down.  Reserve a notebook strictly for your intercessions.  Have a page for each day of the cycle.  (Remember, a cycle consists of 28 days. Four Mondays, four Tuesdays, four Wednesdays... you get it. A month!)  Label the top of each page from "Monday 1", "Tuesday 1"... all the way through "Sunday 4" (ie. Monday of the first week through Sunday of the 4th week.) and fill in the names of the people you're going to be praying for each day.  It is hard to think of 560 people at first, so feel free to recycle names.  You may have a small family and not have five new names for all 28 days of the month, so go ahead and repeat if you need to.  Praying for somebody more than once a month doesn't hurt!  New names will come to you as you get into the groove.

Prayer Book sample page

I use a small spiral notebook for my prayer book that I keep in my nightstand for easy, early morning, access.  You may prefer a Word doc, a spreadsheet, a computerized task list or... is there an app for that?  As long as you jot it down somehow.  You will not remember 560 names on recall.  I don't care if you're Rain Man.  Just, make your life easier and write it down! 

Praying for twenty people a day, you'll find is quite bite-sized.  It can take a mere few minutes, using a simple sentenced prayer for each person, or you can spend as long as you like in time and detail.

I've seen amazing things happen over the course of my twelve years of praying hard.  It doesn't take up much of my day, but it has a great effect on it!  Seeing prayers answered is such a sweet feeling.  It's a particularly new feeling when you begin to see people on your Public Figures lives changed.  Some celebrities on my list have shocked me by going to rehab (when I didn't realize they had a problem), made public confessions (when I didn't know they were hurting) and made professions of faith (when I didn't know they were searching).  Don't get me wrong, I'm not taking the credit.  After all, it wasn't even my idea!  But, when you begin to pray for anyone on a regular basis, you form an unspoken bond with them where you can't help but cheer them on.  Even the ones I made you put on your list that you don't even like!

In the past, people have contacted me through the old webpage to see if they could borrow this system for their Sunday School classes or church prayer groups.  Yes!  This is not intellectual property.  Remember, it wasn't even my idea!  The whole purpose is to get as many people committing to their 560 people as possible.  Use the system if you feel called to.  Share it, tweak it, improve upon it... Then, go forth and pray hard!

(And, if you have a fun or inspiring "answered prayer" story, share it in the comments field below.  Because, everybody loves that kind of stuff!)

An Aunt's Walk

I have, hereby, formally decided to create a separate blog for my "religious" posts.  Why?

For one, placing posts about my Christian walk intermixed amongst my rants about The Housewives and other such guilty pleasures seems to sully the integrity of matters that, quite honestly, should be set apart.

So, now that I've made the decision, there flashes that orange button again, begging me for a blog title.  The natural progression of An Aunt's Life, upon entering theological territory, would be An Aunt's Walk.  Although,  I figured that those stumbling upon the page while blog-jogging most likely don't give a hoot about my aunthood.  So, I've condensed things to just "walk" period.  

Clever?  Maybe not.  But, what's done is done and I'm choosing to move forward.

The intention of walk. is to give my spiritual journey its own due place, apart from the secular one.  I intend to post recently discovered articles I'd written years ago, that never got published elsewhere, insights from my recent Bible studies, prayer tools, theological ideas (of which I have many) and I'll also be merging some of the Aunt's Life Christian archives over from the other page as well.

Am I likely to offend?  Probably.  Am I likely to inspire?  One can only hope.  Will such a page even warrant any kind of audience?  Who knows... but, I'm still unemployed and I need something to do!

So, if you feel like it, come along and join me on my walk.  If not, hit up the other page and read about the Brady Bunch.

Either way, God bless!

The Pride of Worrying

I've never labeled myself as being a prideful person. To me "pride" was always depicted in the egomaniacal braggy braggart types. Pride is sinful. Pride is to be abhorred. Pride leads to ruin (Proverbs 16:18). Pride will get you nowhere (Proverbs 26:12). Pride is a sign of very high self-esteem. So this couldn't be me, since my self-esteem resides somewhere between your shoes and the door mat.

But, it turns out I am prideful. Maybe not in the Webster's Dictionary sense of the word, but in a deceitfully hidden offshoot definition of the term. You see, I'm a worrier.

Worry might seem like the antonym of pridefulness to the naked eye but, if you look a little closer (like all of us worriers tend to do), you'll see exactly what I mean. 

When doing my Bible study yesterday morning, I realized that worry produces the very "Me! Me! Me!" mentality that we often use when describing egomaniacs. "How is this going to effect me?", "I can't do this.", "This is just too much for me to handle." Worry, worry, worry. It may not be boastful in the very least, but it's certainly a preoccupation with self.

I'm a champion worrier from a world-class bloodline of them. People who say they strive on stress are an enigma to me. Stress just gives me the scoots! I've always strove to pursue the simple life depicted in I Thessalonians 4:11, "...make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands..." That's the loveliest of prospects to me. Favor calmness, mind your business and keep busy. But, being the champion worrier that I am, I can even screw up the simple life.

Someone once told me that I handled a certain life-or-death situation that our family once faced so well and that I was so strong during this time. I was flattered, but this comment also left me stunned. Mainly because my memory of the same event had me running to the bathroom to throw up the entire contents of my stomach and then praying as fervently as a new convert on death row, because I didn't know what else to do. What this person witnessed was actually just God's answer to my sloppy prayers. My being numb by fear, producing the image of calm and His granting of that Peace That Passes All Understanding that held me upright and helped my legs to move forward and my spirit not to faint.

The Peace That Passes All Understanding has been God's greatest gift to me during the hardest points in my life. But, I seem to let it slip away during the typical day to day needs. My habit of worrying is the ultimate peace-blocker. I don't know why I choose to overanalyze and worry over the simplest things. And, yes, it's a choice! Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise.

My current worry, of course, is my job search. When the office I worked for closed down in February, it was a very stressful time but also a release into freedom. I had become frustrated in working the same position for eleven years straight and all upward mobility had begun to slide backward. I was granted seventeen weeks of severance and I saw it as a time to unwind, relax, pursue creative endeavors and then eventually pursue a new career path.

Now that I'm down to my last six weeks of mini-retirement, the pressure is on to figure all of this out and quick. I cringe at listings resembling anything to do with my last position, but find those are the only positions that I'm qualified for with the job market in my area being very sparse. The spirit of common sense would remind me that I liked my job and that it wasn't until the wheels of the office closure were set into motion that my job duties started being taken away and reassigned to other offices, leaving me frustrated. And, all of those other industries that seemed so appealing at the time, merely on the fact of being different, now turn out to be much less intriguing upon further research. It's time for big life decisions. And, those are the kind I have no idea how to make.

Instead, I worry that I'll finally get into a new job and end up hating it. I worry that I'll spend a decade at the next place and wind up frustrated again. I worry that my new boss will be mean, that my new coworkers will be gossipy, that I will be sexually harassed, that I won't like the hours, that I won't get good medical coverage, that my breaks won't be at convenient times to accommodate my Hypoglycemia... The list goes on and on and gets more ridiculous as it goes. But, the biggest worry of all is that I can't see the future and that's scary.

The curse of having a colorful imagination is that you will find incredible ways to misuse it. I haven't once overthought the possibility of being overpaid, meeting nice people, having flexibility in new roles, learning something not only new, but interesting. Why is it that those thoughts don't come as easily? I'd like to blame the hardwiring, but knowing that The One who wired me does not want any of us to think that way, I have to take the credit. Or blame. Me. Me. Me. Me!

So moving forward I'd like to welcome Peace into my life, all day, every day. Not just during the hard times or when I realize that I need it. I'd like to start to using my imagination for good and not evil. I'd like to pray more sloppy and emotionally, like I do in hard times, because it's at least sincere. And, I'm going to try to learn to choose not to worry. It will be a hard habit to break... but, my tummy will thank me.

Easter Traditions

Easter begins with an itchy dress.

Throw in an optional bonnet, patent leather shoes, some lacy gloves and a pair of white tights (that are sure to run and have dirt stains on the knees by the time lunch is served) and you've got our childhood Easter tradition.

No one knew this better than my grandma, because she's the one who started it all.

In the weeks leading to every Easter (and Christmas, as well) she'd wrangle up the grandkids, one family at a time, and take us to Sears for the traditional dress shopping spree.

In the earlier days of her grandparenthood, she used to simply shop on her own and deliver a pile of taffeta and scratchy lace to each house before the fateful morning.  I, unknowingly, changed things (at an age when I was too young to even remember) by scratching at my fluffy sleeve, making a sour face and proclaiming, "I no like'it!" during one such dress rehearsal.

Since that day, she conceded that not every girl loves ruffles, straw hats and lace gloves (fortunately for her, my sister and cousin loved hats, ribbons and gloves) and from that year forward, she would take us along to assist her in her purchases.

Easter morning always started with the baskets.  We used the same ones every year.  Carefully dying our eggs the night before, leaving them in a bed of plastic grass and out on the dining room table for the "Easter Bunny" to easily find (We had the same "don't ask, don't tell" policy with the Easter Bunny as we did with Santa Claus.) The air, by then, thick with the smell of vinegar.  (I, to this day, associate the smell of vinegar with The Resurrection.)

In the morning, we'd rush downstairs to find a toy or two, a chocolate bunny (hollow milk chocolate or white chocolate, for me) and a random assortment of additional chocolates, Peeps and jelly beans.

We'd then down our traditional Sunday morning breakfast of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls and Kool-Aid, hurry our sticky selves into our itchy dresses, and rush on off to Sunday school.

Easter morning was a different kind of church than we'd witness every other Sunday.  There were, not only more hats in attendance than usual, but many more people in attendance as well.  After Sunday school we'd end up squeezing into the sanctuary for the regular service. Usually being bumped from our regular pews by the twice-a-year Baptists who, in their infrequent attendance, didn't understand the normal seating arrangement.

That was okay though, because we'd soon be distracted by the fact that every child-sized patent leather purse (mine included) was filled with assortments of contraband sugary treats.

We'd hide the chocolate eggs to the side of our laps that our mothers weren't sitting on and oh so quietly try to unpeel the tin foil wrappers without being disruptive.  Whether or not it's even possible to quietly unpeel foil-wrapped candy is probably a moot point, seeing that the entire congregation smelled like one huge exhale of chocolate breath on that one April Sunday morning of every year.  The jig was probably up years ago, but no one told the kids.

Easter Sunday sermons were always a sweet relief to the horrific account we'd heard about at the prior Good Friday service.

We'd had one full day and two whole nights to shiver in the gruesome memory of what injustice our sweet innocent Jesus endured on account of our own sins. Then Sunday was a breath of fresh air because that's when the victorious coda of His story would be retold.

I'd always anticipate the Doubting Thomas part of the message. I always liked to think that I wouldn't have doubted Christ's resurrection like Thomas did... but I also always thought it would be oh-so-cool to be the one to get to touch our Savior's palms.

I'd say a silent prayer of thanks during the invitational for Jesus's sacrifice. This meant---not only a thankful heart for my salvation---but also that, thanks to His precious gift, we were no longer required to sacrifice pet sheep as a part of our church services as they did in the B.C. days. Phew!

After service, we'd rush across the jelly bean-littered parking lot and into the family van (with Jelly Belly remnants now stuck to our shoes) and hurry off to family dinner to meet up and play with all the cousins.

Dinner was ham.  A considerable amount of rolls would be consumed.  And, then would come the Easter hunt my aunt would annually produce.

She'd fill the empty lot, where our house now sits, with chocolate eggs and bunnies.  The candy was arrayed as if she just threw it about by the handful and then carefully laid a few pieces in the climbing tree and on the fire hydrant... which, I'm pretty sure, is exactlyl what she did.

Every July, my older cousin would always somehow find an errant piece of candy that had been hiding under a bush for the past three months, finally to be found and consumed.

The sugar high would last for weeks and the memories would last for years. 

These days we still get as many siblings, cousins and offspring together as we can.  Though, we all go to different services in the morning, or none at all.

I home-church my brother's kids, in which the annual tradition has been established of me choking and sniffling through the Good Friday message each and every year.  This year I made it through, without a tear!  (I kind of wonder if the kids were disappointed by this.)

Dinner is still ham. Rolls are still consumed by the dozen. And, chocolate candy is still to be found strewn about on the very same lot that is no longer vacant.

The crunchy bunnies are still the best, and God is still very good!

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead." (1 Peter 1:3)