Category Archives: Choices

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.

Photo generated by AI

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.

Chance or Choice?

Posted on by under Choices, God

Journal 2006

Some days when you play a game, the cards fall in your favor. Other times, no matter what you do, the cards go against you. Is that random chance or does God control the cards? But there’s a certain amount of man’s choice, too, such as how many times you shuffle the cards.

Take the following example. In the last month or two, the dollars began flying out the window—most of it not by choice, but by circumstances beyond our control.

  • Our air conditioner compressor goes out.
  • Our washing machine dies.
  • My Cutlas Ciera needs two new tires.
  • My CD burner dies.
  • I need a root canal.
  • Our youngest daughter needs some expensive health tests on her thyroid.
  • She falls at Fall Creek Falls and messes up her body.
  • She bumps her head, hard, on the car and begins to experience headaches.
  • She accidentally catches a strap on my rearview mirror and the mirror comes off the windshield, taking some of the glass with it.
  • She experiences her first flat tire.
  • And her first college school bill is due.

More cards to shuffle:

On Sunday evening, just as our five-day-Intensive client left, our middle daughter walked in the door after being gone for a week.

On Monday I started a new job.

On Tuesday I need to do the following:

  • Clean house, do laundry, shop for groceries.
  • Get new tires.
  • Be home for computer repairman and windshield repairman.

On Wednesday, I will need to get up very early to take my husband to the airport, meet with a client all day, and host a pool party for my ladies’ Bible study group in the evening.

But circumstances started changing, like cards falling right. Both the computer guy and the windshield repairman postponed, my middle daughter was here to clean for me, and she also offered to drive her dad to the airport. My youngest daughter’s thyroid test came back negative, and God miraculously healed her. A young man drove up and offered to change her tire.

Good-bad-good-bad. Each bad can actually be good—it all depends on your perspective. If a tire was going to blow, better on a back road in Murfreesboro than on the freeway. It might be the catalyst for preventing an accident later on.

But think of this: clearing Tuesday’s schedule for these two repairmen puts them coming on Thursday afternoon instead. That’s okay IF our client is finished by that time. Otherwise, it could be a double interruption. Is it God’s plan to destress my Tuesday, or Satan’s plan to interrupt Thursday? Not to worry. God has all things under control.

Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life, says he sees life as two parallel tracks—good and bad running side by side. There’s always good happening, and there’s always bad. Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s something to be thankful for.

Navigating Body Needs

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Quotes

Journal 2017

“Sometimes you aren’t listening to your body because you’re listening to everybody else’s expectations.” AnnVoskamp.com

I’m reading a book entitled Plant Paradox that challenges much of what I’ve been taught. Who can I believe? Who has the answers? Opinions and research shift from one decade to the next. Eat potato skins, they say—that’s where the nutrients live; don’t eat the skins, others say, because that’s where the toxins stay. Egg yolks are bad for cholesterol; yolks and whites are best if eaten together. Don’t eat real butter—it has bad fat; don’t eat fake butter—it has too many chemicals. Aaackkk!

I just know that something has to give. I feel more tired and achy as the summer wears on—usually my most healthy season. Where is this inflammation coming from? How do I know what’s good for me and what’s not? Everyone has his or her pet opinion. And how do I balance buying organic vs. watching my budget? Or market-fresh vs. grocery stores vs. my shopping time? What’s most important to me? To God?

I eat pizza and pancakes every Saturday. And for company tonight I’m fixing a high-sugar dessert. How can I say no to that! My naturopath says to stay away from wheat and corn. The rheumatologist suggests avoiding nightshade veggies (tomatoes, peppers, eggplant)—all of which I just bought. Sigh.

I feel old when I’m tired and hurting and compare myself to an elderly couple at my church doing at their age what I don’t have the energy to do now at mine.

VISUAL: From the sidelines, I watch see this couple busily digging a ditch, while Jesus stands to one side observing us both. He hasn’t asked me to dig with these spry octogenarians, but somehow, I feel guilty.

“Look down at your feet,” He says.

I see water.

I don’t understand the significance. At first, I think, I need to bail this liquid out of my ditch. But then I realize the couple is digging for water, and I’ve already found mine. This is no reflection on them, no judgment—just an observation in the visual.

So, what’s next? I’m standing ankle-deep in clear, running water. It feels good on my sore feet. I’m allowed to stay here if I like . . . though I think, maybe I should help the couple dig for their water. Why should I stay here when others need me? So, I offer my services, but they wave me off.

“We love what we do!” they say. “If you like digging, you’re welcome to join us, but we don’t need your help. We’ve found our joy.”

Okay, I can live with that.

So, I stay here in the cool, refreshing water till something flows down my gully that requires attention. I’m grateful for those who answer the call to do. Today I am content to just be, a soft breeze caressing my cheek as I sit here on the patio of Starbucks, watching the cars go by, smelling coffee and perfume and fried food. It’s been a glorious day.

A 2024 Update. My inflammation is under control now and, fortunately, I don’t battle any allergies, or I might have a different opinion. I’ve settled on my mother’s philosophy and wisdom: eat what you want but in moderation. And eat lots of veggies.

Starting my Tower Garden

Fashion Rebellion

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

Journal 2016

I have been rebelling against fashion since I was in junior high boarding school. While girls were begging to wear shorter skirts, I insisted on lowering my hems. One day in home economics class we learned what colors supposedly looked good together. Apparently orange and pink was a no-no (this was before the crazy ’70s entered the scene). One of my classmates dared me to put together a clashing skirt/blouse combo and wear it to breakfast that morning. I felt proud that I had enough guts to go against established rules of fashion and confident enough in who I was to pull off the faux pas.

But, to my chagrin, one of the Aunties pulled me aside to inform me that my wardrobe choice was a less than desirable combination of colors.

“How could she think so little of me?” I thought indignantly. Even when I told her that I wasn’t ignorant, that it was done on a dare, the damage in my soul was done. I felt embarrassed where before I felt confident.

I take this emotion to Jesus, and He smiles.

“Why are You smiling?” I ask.

“I love that you have self-confidence to be who you are. Never mind the Auntie. She didn’t know. She was simply trying to be helpful. Wear whatever you choose—with confidence.”

I wish I’d known this the year we were on furlough for my junior year of high school. Someone kindly donated their rejects to the poor missionary barrel, and I ignorantly donned a dress that apparently was out of style. One ill comment, and I never wore it again.

What I choose to wear reflects who I am, and to which master I serve. I want to be confident in who God made me to be.

A 2024 Update. Admittedly, I still have poor fashion sense and find it helpful to take a daughter along with me to shop for clothes—though I maintain the power of veto. I tend to follow my mother’s advice: wear only what’s comfortable.

I made this dress in 1975. This really was in style then!

Judgmentalism

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

Journal 2017

Two or three times in church today I found unwanted thoughts in my head—critiquing (I refuse to use the word criticize because I don’t want to go down that road) the person or event. We all do it—okay most of us do it.

It irritates me a little if a person says everything is perfect ALL the time. They are too delighted in everything—and then I realize as I say this, that all the people I know like this are sanguines—which I am not. Declaring everything is always perfect, good, and wonderful, feels disingenuous. It’s not reality. But neither is the doom and gloom of the pessimist. I’m somewhere in between.

What I don’t like is the unbidden thoughts I have regarding others. I used to judge and feel superior and all that nasty self-righteousness stuff. Now I just notice. But why, I ask myself, do I even need to notice? I guess the only way NOT to notice is to be blind.

Okay, I really must be honest with myself. It’s not the noticing that’s the problem. So what is it? Why does it matter? That’s where the emotion lies.

I find the memory and process it, and it feels better now. Noticing is okay; judging is unproductive.

Pharisees and Hypocrites

Posted on by under Choices, God, Scripture

Journal 2016

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else . . . (Luke 18:9 NIV)

I am a recovering Pharisee. I identify more with the law than with grace, with Martha more than Mary, with the big brother rather than the prodigal son, with self-righteousness over God’s righteousness. God, help me!

Had I been at the synagogue the day Jesus healed the crippled woman, I would have been the Pharisee condemning Jesus for working on the Sabbath. That is my natural, Adamic nature, the old man, of the world. Yes, I’ve come a long, long way, but I’m not there yet—and won’t be until I get to heaven. Whenever I think I’m “better than,” I’ve crossed the line into self-righteousness.

So, I explore this thought:  If I choose wisely (the God path), does that make me better than those who choose to resist God? My flesh says, “Yes, thus making me superior.” But that is arrogance. Scorn does not become me. Disgust or rolling the eyes or looking down at someone—how can that be a good choice?

I am responsible for my own faith, my own choices, my own reactions, and responses. I don’t know another person’s heart—not really. We are each accountable to our own master—be it God or Satan or money or pain.

Since I’ve chosen God as my master, then I only answer to Him. It is not my job to judge another person’s choices. I might notice that they’ve chosen a poor master, and I can urge them to reconsider their path, but they may be bound in chains and may not know that freedom is available to them. Why get upset and rage at them for not opening their eyes—when they are truly blinded by the god of this world and cannot see until the God of Heaven opens their eyes.

But God has set me free from the law of sin and death. He gives light and life and freedom. No more condemnation, judgment, pride, or superiority. Let God be God and me the chiefest of sinners whom God has redeemed.

You will never understand the heart of a Pharisee unless you realize that he sees the plank in his eye as belonging to others. (Erwin Lutzer in his book Who Are You to Judge?)

So Many People!

Posted on by under Choices

Journal 2016

There are not enough hours in the day to pray for or develop and maintain a relationship with every person I know. I’m working on getting to know my immediate neighbors, but just when I made a good solid contact, they moved. Arrghh! How do I apportion my time wisely between friendships and acquaintances? I could spend 100% of my time with one client and it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her need. A phone call a couple hours a month is all another relationship needs in order to remain best friends.

God orchestrated the Apostle Paul’s travels and people he connected with, and Paul had to be obedient. Even his jail time was used by God. How much control do I have over my relationships and time vs. how much does God control it? I’m only responsible for my part, not His. I have to trust Him to bring into my life exactly whom He wants me to talk to, spend time with, and minister to. If I’m moving forward, He can guide me.

A 2024 Update. I just returned from Florida where I reunited once again with my childhood boarding school classmates from around the world. As we reminisced over the last 70 years, the bonds only got stronger, but I don’t have time in my schedule to maintain daily contact with each one. People come into our lives for a season, and now it’s time to refocus on those whom I sit beside at church or chat with at the grocery store checkout lane. But these brothers and sisters will be forever in my heart.

Am I Not Enough?

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace

Journal 2016

I’m feeling disgruntled today, agitated, pacing, complaining. Jesus invites me to sit with Him for a bit.

“I’m weary of living and working with people whose hearts are closed. Soulmate is a mythical beast,” I tell Him.

“Am I not enough?” Jesus asks.

“Am I not enough?” the Holy Spirit queries.

“Am I not enough?” the Father says.

And my heart cries out, “I want You to be. So why am I not satisfied? Why do I cling to the illusion that flawed human beings are capable of meeting the deepest longings and intimate needs of my heart?”

“It’s not fair to expect people to be God to you,” observes Jesus. “That’s idolatry.”

And so I repent.

Be Jesus to others but let go of expecting them to be that to you.

Josh and Katie (our youngest)

Wisdom or Foolishness?

Posted on by under Choices, Scripture

Journal 2017

The book of Proverbs often contrasts the fool with the wise. The fool doesn’t listen to knowledge, utters slander, does what is right in his own eyes, is full of wrath, doesn’t learn from discipline, is contentious, and is bound for destruction.

The wise person, obviously, portrays opposite characteristics. But is being wise the same thing as being righteous? I understand imputed righteousness, but there’s our part as well. God doesn’t declare everyone righteous—just those who have responded to His invitation—and that’s being wise. (9:10)

We are all wise at times and foolish at others, but a person’s character, like a young tree, can be bent in different directions (15:24). The more mature the tree becomes, the more hardened the trunk gets—straighter or more crooked.

Sometimes I hesitate to call myself wise—it sounds prideful. But it isn’t boasting when you are being honest about your choices. To fear the Lord is to be wise. I have chosen God. I have chosen to humble myself when I recognize pride, I try to learn, I try not to defend when hurt, I try not to slander or be contentious and to keep anger under control. My tree trunk is bent in that direction. That’s not pride—it’s observing what’s in my heart.

It is not arrogant to recognize when you are wise, but I don’t know too many people who would admit they are fools. Usually they see it at the end of their life or when they suffer the consequences of a poor decision.

All a person’s ways seem right in his own opinion, but the Lord evaluates the motives. (Proverbs 16:2 NET)