Category Archives: Choices

Navigating Legalism

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2005

Our Pastor preached through the list of kingdom qualities in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount and asked which quality we needed to focus on. I chose “avoid judgmentalism.”

The Pharisees [hypocrites] honor Me with their lips. But their heart is far from Me. But in vain do they worship Me, teaching as doctrine the precepts of men. (Matthew 7:6)

Here’s my definition of judgmentalism based on this passage: A self-righteous attitude about how others conduct themselves—usually because I don’t do this “sin” myself. And often the “sin” in question is regarding a tradition of man rather than breaking a direct command of Scripture.

Want some examples?

  • Women were forbidden to wear pants at the college I attended.
  • Red lipstick was considered worldly in my childhood culture.
  • Going to the movie theatre was a no-no.
  • Dancing was definitely in the category of sinful behavior.
  • Modesty was defined by skirt length.

Culture has a huge impact on this discussion. What’s modest for one culture is immoral for another. I think it comes down to the attitude of my heart. I can dress like a Puritan and not have a pure heart. The other end of the continuum is harder for me to gauge. At what point do I transition from a poor heart attitude to sin? Or is it a point? Can the discussion focus on the amount of material, or should the focus be 100% on the heart?

Next, I pondered the difference between a Pharisee’s judgment and the weaker brother’s judgment (1 Corinthians 8:11). In a previous church, the pastor urged us to refrain from a particular activity (fill in the blank here), so as not to offend a weaker brother, thus causing him to sin.

The Pharisee holds his standard of righteousness for his own glory. I don’t need to change my behavior to please him. The weaker brother (one who hasn’t been taught yet) has a desire for righteousness for God’s glory, and I need to respect him.

But there’s a third category of people to consider. 1 Corinthians 10:27 says, “If one of the Unbelievers should say to you, ‘This is meat sacrificed to idols,’ don’t eat it—for the sake of the conscience of the one who informed you.” Note that this unbeliever invites you to eat with him, so this conversation is in private—not referring to a system (which is where my mind goes with my former church). So then the observation [judgment, criticism] in this passage is coming NOT from a weaker brother, but rather from an unbeliever who “knows” the Christian’s standards.

To sum it all up, 1 Corinthians 10:31 says, “Whether, then, you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”

I cannot judge another person’s motives. I am only responsible for my own heart. I just know that I prefer hugging the mountainside over seeing how close to the cliff’s edge I can get.

A 2024 Update. Legalism with all its “shoulds” and “have-tos” had a strong hold on me for many years, but I don’t struggle with these issues anymore. God gave me a mind to ask questions and to search the Scriptures, and God’s answers have brought peace to my heart.

Keeping the Sabbath

Posted on by under Choices, God, Scripture

Journal 2016

I grew up under the teaching that as Gentile Christians, we were commanded to “keep the Sabbath day holy.” Never mind that our instructors mistakenly called Sunday “the Sabbath” or that, as I believe, we are no longer under the Law of Moses.

The Mosaic Law spelled out some parameters for Sabbath or Shabbat observance: no fires, no cooking, no traveling. The Pharisees took the Law a little further and defined the Sabbath according to what activities and to what extent they thought were or were not permissible as per their own definitions. In 39 categories, the Talmud defined work as “any activity that creates or that exercises control or dominion over one’s environment.” These included baking, making garments, making leather, and building structures. Today their Sabbath legalism extends to not pushing the buttons on an elevator or turning on electric lights.

Reform Judaism says, “One should avoid one’s normal occupation or profession on Shabbat whenever possible and engage only in those types of activities that enhance the joy, rest, and holiness of the day.” According to this definition, if I were to “keep the Sabbath,” my normal activities would be housework, computer work, and the business end of ministry. It would not preclude ministry itself according to Jesus’ example. He preached and healed all week long. You’d think He’d refrain on the seventh day and take this day off from “work.” But apparently His work wasn’t classified as labor.

Jewish law prohibits work, but it isn’t the same definition as our English word for work. The word Shabbat literally means “to cease” or “to sit.” While resting is implied, it’s not the meaning of the word. God created for six days, and then He ceased. He didn’t need to rest. I may not be Jewish, and yes, Jesus is my Sabbath rest, but I do need to “cease” on a regular basis. I need the change of pace, the chance to recoup, refresh, and recharge my body, mind, and soul.

So . . . generally, once a week, I turn off my computer, refrain from cleaning house, and occupy myself with things I enjoy doing—guilt-free, such as reading, doing a puzzle, or golfing with my husband (after church of course!)

What does “ceasing” look like for you?

Thoughts on Judas

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Scripture

Journal 2016

At some point in His ministry, Jesus sent out the twelve disciples and gave them power

  • to drive out demons
  • to cure diseases
  • to heal the sick, and
  • to preach the kingdom of God. (Luke 9:1; Mark 6:7)

The twelve? That means that He gave those powers and gifts to Judas as well—the one He chose by the will of the Father, knowing he would betray Him. The one whose love of money was never cured though he spent three years at the Master’s feet.

Jesus sent them out two by two. Who got stuck with Judas? Was he so wicked at this time? Perhaps not. Perhaps he only had a “little sin” in his heart. But all the disciples struggled with unbelief and fear and pride. What was so different about Judas?

They were to take no food (what if they had a blood sugar problem?), no money (or credit cards for that matter), no change of clothes (ewww … would you want two sweaty, smelly men in your home?), and they were to preach repentance. Apparently Judas failed to heed his own warning.

Judas never asked Jesus to drive out his own demons. He never got to see the fruits of his labor. He missed the blessings and didn’t endure to the end of God’s plan, to the resurrection. He tried to avoid the pain in his heart and took his own life.

And yet … God’s plan could not be thwarted. His plan triumphed in the end. He used Judas’ poor choice to bring salvation to the whole world.

A 2024 Update. A couple students in our community took their own lives last month. I understand that when pain is overwhelming, a person can believe there is no alternative, but the premature end of a life feels like such a waste, a missed opportunity to bless others. I wonder how God will redeem these events in the lives of those who are left behind to pick up the pieces.

Outward Appearances

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Peace

Journal 2006

I was self-assured in my childhood about my clothing choices until someone remarked negatively about an outfit. Then self-consciousness set in, not unlike Adam and Eve who were content until the serpent catapulted them into self-awareness—and then they felt shame.

I was coerced recently into watching an Oprah show where interviewers accosted ladies on the street and told them how awful their bras were and how terrible their clothing styles were. Made-for-TV drama. I could have socked the accosters who freely handled and lifted the strangers’ bosoms. Why would anyone get a thrill out of changing a person’s bra size?

Now, I’m not against looking nice, but the danger was that I suddenly became self-aware and others-aware. I sat in our ladies’ small-group Bible study last night and found myself looking around the room at cup sizes and positions and bra fits. And value and judgment suddenly rested on who did it “right.”

I also noticed a friend’s clothes yesterday. The style went against everything Oprah said she should wear, and I considered saying something to her. Really?! Where does Oprah get her clout? Why do the people on her show get to establish the standard for my friend?

What we wear often reflects what those in our circle are wearing. When tapered jeans were “in,” my daughters pled with me to get rid of my straight-legged ones. How uncouth, gauche, and unsightly! Well, guess what? Now I’m not only fashionable in my wide jeans, but we’re told they are better for the figure because they make the hips look smaller! So tapered jeans are now definitely “out.”

Years ago “over-sized” was in. Today, it’s the tighter the better. (Personally, I prefer the big—it hides a multitude of bulges!)

Another skewed value in America is the drive to look younger and thinner. In some other cultures, value is assigned by age or wisdom, and wealth is determined by plumpness—meaning you have enough food to eat. Maybe I’m living in the wrong culture.

All this attention to outward appearances makes me tired. The focus is all wrong. What I wear and how I wear it begins to determine my value in my circle—be it home or church or at the grocery store. How do I return to unselfconscious and dress according to my personal preferences? How do I quit judging, sizing up, assigning value to someone based on their outward appearance? I want to be confident enough in myself to dress in a way that self disappears. Self-conscious means I think more about I instead of you. And I instead of God.

The missing ingredient here is relationship. I think the reason we ladies were aghast at the behavior of the accosters on the show was because they violated strangers’ personal space. If a friend had spinach in her teeth, I would tell her. I would want her to do the same for me. And if a trusted friend kindly pointed out that my dress was frumpy, I’d take it to heart. But if I’m criticized for my shoes, and my choice is based on comfort for arthritic feet, no matter what your opinion is, the ability to walk supersedes style for me. But it still makes me sad that I’m being judged for not keeping up with fashion.

I suspect when someone cares how I look, it’s more a reflection on how it makes THEM feel. Maybe I should feel sad for the critiquer because she is driven by something unfulfilled in her own soul.

2024 Update. It’s interesting to look back at my younger self and see what triggers made me obsess. I may still notice today what other ladies are wearing, but I can do so without judgment. I’m comfortable with my choices now. As my sister says, “I’m too old to worry about that anymore.”

My sweet parents and Grandpa Peterson
My early fashion role models!

Trust in God, not Money

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace

Journal 2006

If I were to choose a recurring theme for my greatest struggle in life, it would be over the subject of money. I have been imbalanced for so long that it’s hard for me to get to the center. It’s like being on a wobbly merry-go-round with one side higher than the other, and all I can do is tightly grip the edges.

When I was single and my decisions only affected myself, I felt at peace. I could be as imbalanced as I chose, and it only affected me. But when you add a spouse and children to the mix, it becomes complicated—especially if there’s a difference in philosophy, upbringing, goals, and values. Trust is at the core of the relationship. Will I ever come to grips with this topic?

The bottom line for me, I guess, is learning to trust the God of the universe that He will take care of me and supply all my needs. The wise financial planner saves for the future; the foolish spends it all on pleasure now. The miser hoards it all and has no pleasure. Somewhere there’s a balance, and I want to be at peace no matter what circumstance I find myself in. I can’t hold onto my false security handles anymore. I have to leap into the loving arms of Jesus and trust Him to sustain me and not let me fall. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and I know that He will care for me. But the perspective has to change. Not only does He own them, but I do too. I’m heir to the kingdom.

Later. I fretted and fretted over missing the deadline for our daughter to apply for the Presidential Scholarship at Berry College. But we got an invitation in the mail for the scholarship weekend anyway. My faith factor just bumped up a notch, and I let go of my tight grip when she won the contest.

A 2024 Update. My heart finally began to relax at last when, a few years ago, I found myself worrying about how I’d manage financially if I became a widow. God’s gentle voice whispered in my ear, “I will be a husband to you. I will care for your needs.”

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Feeling at Home

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2006

. . . His Spirit in your inner self [indwelling your innermost being and personality] (Ephesians 3:16 Amplified)

Since my innermost being is home to the Holy Spirit, I want to make Him feel as at home and comfortable as I possibly can. I know how icky it feels in my earthly home when there’s tension and discord and fighting and self-centeredness. How at home does the Holy Spirit feel when I’m angry, peevish, sulky, self-centered, lonely* or at worst—when I sin, leaving dirty smudges on the windows of His house, keeping others from seeing His light shine through?

[*“Why are you lonely? Aren’t I here?” says the Holy Spirit]

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Guilt and Forgiveness—a Visual

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2005

Guilt is like walking on a sandy beach, leaving footprints for all to see. And when shame tries to smooth over the prints, I create more footprints in my retreat.

Forgiveness is God sending His wind (the Holy Spirit) to blow across the sand, erasing all the prints. And even if I fail again, the wind continues to blow.

How much better to scramble onto a rock, where no footprints can be made, and no guilt and shame exist.

I’m on the Rock, hallelujah,

I’m on the Rock to stay,

For He lifted me from the miry clay—

I’m on the Rock to stay.

(Hymn, public domain)

Bad Mood Thunderstorm

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2005

With a satisfying morning behind me, as I entered the room with a smile on my face, I immediately sensed a shift in the atmosphere. This person’s bad mood challenged my response.

I see a dark cloud swirling above her head. Since she’s cold and damp and miserable, no wonder she grumbles and complains. (Or does she relish the attention she gets from her drama?) Anyway—what is that to me? The problem is, I can’t get near her, or I’ll get drenched too—or worse, get zapped by the lightning coming out of her cloud. I confess I prefer to avoid prickly people, but if I do, I forfeit relationship and I can’t help them.

As I pray about my dilemma, the Lord says, “Wherever you are, rest in the eye of the storm, and the swirling wind about you will push her rain away so that you can draw near. You don’t have to be affected by her weather patterns.”

Lord, keep me in the center of You.

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Temptation to Pride

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Scripture

Journal 2006

The tug of my human heart says I have the same temptation toward pride, the same bent, as Satan himself. I want to be like God. I want the universe to revolve around me. I want glory. Like the Apostle Paul, I want to shout, “O wretched man that I am; who shall deliver me from the body of this death [idolatrous desire]?” (Romans 7:24).

My visual is that I’m at the center of a circle, craving the world’s honor and praise. Though I want to experience significance, I don’t want this idolatry of self.  I want to echo John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase; I must decrease.”

Paul viewed himself as a slave of God (the Master of the Mansion, a perfect gentleman who looks after and cares for His servants and who gives good gifts according to their service for Him.) Kitchen maid or head chef, butler or chimney sweep—we all have our jobs to do. If we do it with a complaining spirit, we shift the focus to the idolatry of self. If we serve with gratitude and love, our load feels lighter. We’re driven to excellence. We want the Master of the Mansion to look good. Shining the gold on the newel of the banister becomes an act of worship. Fetching His slippers is a privilege. We adore Him. Why? Because He makes each one of His servants feel significant. He catches our eye. He notices. “Nice job on the newel, Charlie. Thank you for remembering to feed my dogs, Susan. I love you, Karen.”

But there are other metaphors: “No longer do I call you My servants, but My friends (John 15:15). You are My bride (Isaiah 54:10). I bought you with a price (I Corinthians 7:23). You were sold for nothing, and you shall be redeemed without money” (Isaiah 52:3).

And we remember who we were and from whence we came. And we gladly, gratefully, joyfully enter into a love relationship with our Rescuer.

But then that niggling question comes—how did we get into the slave marketplace? How did we end up in the prostitute’s parlor? And we blame God. He created us, didn’t He? It’s His fault for bringing us into existence in the first place. And we face that universal question, “Why was I born?” Just so He could have more slaves? How bitter is that?

But no. He wants relationship. “He satisfies the longing soul and fills the hungry soul with goodness” (Psalm 107:9).

“Will you be My bride?” asks Jesus. I have searched for you, I have found you, I have courted you. Will you say yes? I will exchange your dirty garments for clean, bright white ones. I will give you a crown worthy of a queen.”

And in humility, all pride gone, I bow prostrate at His feet. I am unworthy. He deserves all the glory, the honor, the praise.

Coronation Day is coming. Preparations are in the works. I want my heart to be ready. I want to complete the tasks He’s given me to do in preparation of the wedding day and His coronation ceremony.

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Out of Control

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2006

This was not my favorite day! I had my goals, expectations, and vision of an uninterrupted day to catch up on my work. It started at 4:30 a.m. with the cat waking me up, and it went downhill from there. I spent very little time at my desk, ran errands instead, met others’ needs, and ended the day an emotional wreck. No alone time and thwarted at every turn, I felt off balance, out of kilter.

How do I balance plans with interruptions? Why does it upset my equilibrium when I don’t get my way? I should have known . . . I should have anticipated . . . I should have been others-centered instead of self-centered, runs through my brain.

I used to have a tight control over my schedule. I was on the dance floor without a partner. I could sit on the side and play solitaire, get up and get a snack at my leisure, or sway to the music if I wanted to. I affected very few people with my decisions.

And then I got married. Having a dance partner meant I couldn’t sit down as often. Sometimes he served me drinks; sometimes I served him, and at all times we were aware of each other’s presence and needs. If we both were in the mood to dance, we did. If we both wanted to rest, we did. If one did and the other did not, we had to compromise or sacrifice. It was easier sometimes to give in than to fight over it; other times easier to think only about my own needs.

And just as I began to learn that dance, we had children. We adjusted to their varying heights and were less free to move around. I spent far more time fetching drinks for everyone and making trips to the bathroom than keeping time to the music. There was no standing still.

Next, a lot of messy people joined the dance floor asking for help. Some were unseemly characters. Others dressed nicely, but they didn’t know how to dance. Others were too weak and sick to dance. And the world of the dance floor suddenly became more complicated. While I was responding to the needs of the lonely ones on the bench or the thirsty ones in wheelchairs, my husband may have been in the mood to dance. And out of the corner of my eye, I watched one of our girls dancing her own dance with a guy. And my eyes and my heart were torn or divided or distracted or overwhelmed.

Add to that the God-element. In a fifth dimension, unseen to the human eye, the Holy Spirit and the evil one mingled among and through us, stirring us up, catching us when we stumbled, whispering lies or truth in each of our ears as we danced and sat and ate and drank.

I have a restlessness inside. Some days I just wish life would return to the days when I was a solo dancer, in control of my own decisions.

I know I must get away, and so I slip away from my dance partner, away from the tug of the needy ones, away from the vigilance on my children, and head to the balcony to drink in the night air and enjoy the stars. But just as I reach the top step, a noisy group comes spilling out of the room to join me, and the magic of the night is lost.

Instead, I find a quiet bench in the garden. I can still hear the music, and I know I can be interrupted at any time. I just want to go Home (with a capital “H”) where it’s safe, soft, peaceful, quiet. But it’s not time yet.

And so, for now, I slip further into the gardens, hiding behind a tree, hoping not to be found. But my dance partner is lonely and comes seeking me. And I set aside my own needs and return once more to the dance hall.

And the restlessness continues. It has nothing, really, to do with what’s going on around me. It’s not the people, the noise, or the distractions. It’s what’s going on inside my heart–an open door, a furnace burning inside my chest, stoked by anger. And even when I go home (lowercase “h”) the fire remains. Hot. There’s no escaping it.

In the middle of the dance floor, with my permission Jesus reaches out His hand, extinguishes the fire, and says, “Give Me the treasure of your heart.”

I’m willing, but I don’t understand—I don’t know what’s in it. Again, with my permission, He reaches into the door of my heart and retrieves a box. “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” He explains. And I expect Him to take it up to heaven and deposit it under the throne. (Isn’t that what Matthew 6:20-21 teaches? “Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven . . .”) But, instead, He places my box inside His own heart. “For safe keeping,” He says.

And now it doesn’t matter what goes on around me because I’m following my Treasure. When He says, “Dance,” I dance. When He says, “Rest,” I rest. When He says, “Serve,” I do that.

It’s not about controlling my world but about controlling my mind.