My Carson just completed first grade. She and her classmates compiled memory books of their year. The last page was about their futures. See what she wants to be when she grows up...
Yup. A ROCK STAR! Check out her purple guitar.
You get out what you put in. Period.
True, don’t you agree?
Which led me to surmise that the same is true of other areas of life as well. Our relationship with Christ, in particular.
I think maybe we don’t get that a lot of times. We will use verses like Ephesians 2:8-9 (For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast) to let ourselves off the hook. Undeniably, Jesus does the work of salvation. To be saved, we just put our faith in His saving grace and confess our need for Him. Done deal.
Not what I’m talking about though…
To live in a vibrant relationship with Jesus, we have work to do. We can be slackers, or moderately serious, fakers, or highly motivated. And our individual intimacy with Christ will directly reflect our level of commitment – as outwardly and as obviously as fitness does.
I’ll put myself out there on this one. I’ve gained ten pounds in the past year, and if you studied my workout habits and my eating habits you would conclude that I am not consistently determined to lose that weight. And you would be correct.
The same is often true of my pursuit of Christ. Sporadic. Half-hearted. Motivated. Distracted. Disinterested. On fire. Whichever the case, the same is always true –
I get out what I put in.
Always.
We are to work out our salvation (Philippians 2:12). Let us pursue Him in honest prayer. Let us praise Him, come what may… Let us spend our days in constant conversation with Him. Let’s feast on His Word, hiding it in our hearts. Let us make hard choices to do what is best. Let us obey and serve Him and others. Let us be courageous in His Name. Let us delight in His goodness.
To share with you what He is echoing to me, HE IS ENOUGH! Period.
Be consistently determined to pursue Him.
Well, like I was saying, gym folk are funny. I go to the gym to get sweaty and stinky, and I do not dress up for the gym. I do not shower to go to the gym. I do not shave to go to the gym. I do not wear coordinating clothes to the gym. Most of the time people who know me at the gym, do not recognize me outside of the gym. That’s just my deal; I don’t have time, money, or desire to be fashionable and fabulous at the gym. I go to the gym to work hard in hopes of looking fabulous outside of the gym.
I usually workout before lunch, and during that time I mostly see other SAHMs and retired people. We are a moderately serious crowd with a few hard core folks sprinkled in. During the afternoon, there’s a relaxed crowd until 5:30. At that point the highly motivated and very muscled people arrive along with the beautiful people (peeps more interested in hooking up than working out). That time slot stresses me out a bit. The weekend is saved for the two ends of the spectrum: the slackers and the psychos.
Don’t get mad, I’m just havin’ fun with some generalizations…
I see people run at breakneck speeds wearing trashbags. I see people who never sweat. I see people jack their treadmills on such a high incline that I expect them to come rolling off the back at any minute and those whose belt is barely moving. I see people who are there every time I go and lots of unfamiliar faces too. I see people wearing jeans to work out and some who wear almost nothing. I see people who are so drenched in sweat that they look like they’ve come in from a rain storm and those whose make-up has never smeared and hair has never been displaced. It takes all kinds, I guess.
But I am struck by truth. You get out what you put in. Period. More on that thought tomorrow…
I love the gym! Not for the noble reasons that you might expect though. People at the gym are a hoot! I love studying who comes to the gym, why they come, what they do while they’re there, how often they come, what they wear, what speed and incline they run on, what time of day they come, etc… Fascinating stuff, people! If I ever write a book, it very well may be about gym folk.
Today, I was putting on my make-up (I love getting dressed at the gym) in a part of the locker room where some cuties were getting ready for their water aerobics class. There were five or six ladies who were sixty-five or older, and this was the convo I overheard…
Mae: Lucille, I already walked a mile on the treadmill.
Lucille: That is great, Mae!
Mae: But the scales still say the same thing.
Betty: They will change, girl. Keep working.
Alma: You might be like me and never lose weight, but they make size 20 caskets, you know.
Lucille: Don’t you say that. Don’t you say that! I’ve lost 31 pounds.
Mae: I’ll tell y’all why Lucille lost weight. I just heard that sex will make you lose weight. I did. I heard that.
Alma: Well, no wonder I’m fat.
Mae: Yeah, me too…
I am not making one bit of that up! How funny is that? More on gym folk for you tomorrow…
Due to this post, most of you know that I have an unhealthy relationship with Diet Pepsi and a peculiar insistence on drinking it from 20 oz bottles. Well, the new 20 oz. bottles now have red tops. Pretty bright red tops. Cause the Pepsi folks are resurrecting the old school bottle top giveaways. There is a 1 in 8 chance of winning a BOGO: buy one 20 oz and get one free.
I'm all about it.
My chances are good.
I've already won one.
Methinks I will do well at this one.
Thanks, Pepsi man!
I am one who likes to collect life experiences. I'm not really an ambitious collector, and at this point there isn't anything radical on the list. In fact, there is no list, but if an opportunity presents itself to do something I've never done, I'm usually game. And if something mildly unpleasant or uncomfortable comes my way, I can usually roll with it and chalk it up as another life experience. Like having a dentist try to rip a tooth out of my head with no anesthesia. Like having another dentist who knows how to use his instruments yank four teeth in one day (after the failure of the aforementioned). Like eating lamb and fish in England - not a fan (of lamb and fish, not England), coaching cheerleading (sooo not a fan), and drinking almost an entire tidal creek trying to learn to slalom - and never succeeding (at slalom, not drinking the creek). I digress, but you get the picture.
Well, this past Wednesday night I added a new one to the list. One of the unpleasant and uncomfortable variety.
My mom joined the four of us for dinner, and we grilled burgers and dogs. I baked fries and prepared chili on the stovetop. We played a dinner game (so fun - Beginner Dinner Games - thanks Erika!) and went for a walk around the neighborhood. My aunt lives just around the corner, so we walked for a visit.
Yada, yada, yada, we visited. We were leaving, and my aunt ran back into the yard - ashen and blurted, "Don't panic, but Darrell just called and there's a fire truck in front of your house!"
WHAT!?!
Chris darted off towards the house. Carson fell apart. I'm trying to talk sense into a seven year-old who thinks her Tiger and blankie are burning as we speak (I know I'm an idiot, but, hey, I thought my house was on fire! Grace, people, grace...). My mom had Campbell who wasn't saying anything, and we're trying to speed walk back to our house. I began to think through whether I turned off the stove and oven as we all four began to run. I really didn't want to see our house in flames, and I sure didn't want my girls to, but we rushed towards our dread.
We made the turn on to our street, and there stood a fire truck with lights turning and five or six fully-attired fireman entering my kitchen from the garage. My first thought,...
Well, at least my truck is okay :-)
We saw no flames, no hoses, no smoke. Okay, it can't be that bad. Whew...
Come to find out, there was no fire! None! Like not even a spark. And I hadn't ruined my family's life by leaving the stove or oven on. Yee-haw!
Our free-thinking alarm system sent a fire alarm to our monitoring service when it wasn't even armed. AND WHEN THERE WAS NO FIRE!!!!!! Cute...
A service call and $200 later, we're all good. And thankful (about there not being a fire, not about the $200 service call).
Okay, my I-pod is officially dead, and I am more than a little peeved by that fact, but that isn't how I ended up with a broken playlist. My broken playlist is actually a list of songs I put together a couple of nights ago. These are songs that I want to crank when I feel broken.
Not a devastating broken.
A healthy broken. A recognition of my weakness and my poverty of spirit before the Creator of the Universe. An acknowledgement of His sovereignty and his healing. Gratitude for His provision. Humility before the God Who Sees Me.
Here's my fave - in case you're in the market for a broken playlist too:
LOVE HER! And here are the others...
Your Love is Extravagant - Casting Crowns
Stay Strong - Newsboys
At the Foot of the Cross - Kathryn Scott
The Valley Song - Jars of Clay
Healer - Hillsong
While I'm Waiting - John Waller
Jesus Paid It All - Kristian Stanfill
Draw Me Close - Kutless
Clinging to the Cross - Tim Hughes (with Brooke Fraser)
Sweetly Broken - Jeremy Riddle
Saviour King - Hillsong
Mighty to Save - Hillsong
Most of these are pretty old, well-played tunes, but together they set the stage for some beautiful submission.
So that's my broken playlist, and I like it that way. My I-pod, on the other hand, is a totally different story...
