Tuesday, March 27, 2012

I Rest My Case

I love Southern Gospel music - I was raised on it, I never get tired of hearing it, and honestly, listening to the Cathedral Quartet albums (albums - remember those?) over and over is how I learned to sing harmony.  My little brother, Bubba (his real name is Brian but never in my life have I ever called him that - besides, he just looks like a "Bubba"), is one of the most amazing high tenor singers I've ever heard.  This past weekend, I found an old CD of his when he sang with The Crusaders.  I brought it to work and saved it to my computer.  I've listened to it twice, but I keep getting stuck on "Track 8".  I can't stop listening to this song - I'm humbled and overwhelmed by the fact that Jesus loves me enough to go before the Father continuously and plead my case.  The part of the song that always gets me is when it says:

This covenant is binding
By His blood and His word
Every time I’m in trouble
My case will be heard

The video below is the Perrys, singing "I Rest My Case at the Cross". 





There’s a covenant sweet
It was written for me
It’s a promise that I could be here
From all my sin and my shame
Even heartache and pain
It was signed and confirmed on a hill
So I rest my case at the cross
For now I have someone to champion my cause
I’ve been justified, satisfied, oh I have it all
So I rest my case at the cross
Don’t feel sorry for me
When you see I’m in need
There’s a judge who grants mercy and love
All my burdens he lifts
All my sin he forgives
Every trial is one through the blood
So I rest my case at the cross
For now I have someone to champion my cause
I’ve been justified, satisfied, oh I have it all
So I rest my case at the cross
In the cross
In the cross
Be my glory ever
This covenant is binding
By His blood and His word
Every time I’m in trouble
My case will be heard
I’ve been justified, satisfied, oh I have it all
So I rest my case at the cross
Thank you Jesus!

Monday, March 26, 2012

A Sow's Ear

For years, I’ve had acrylic nails put on my fingernails.  My natural nails will grow but they are so thin and weak that they break off down to the quick once they get to a certain length.  I usually have these fake nails taken off right after Christmas, just to give my real nails a break, and then have the acrylic put back on toward the end of March/first of April.  It was time for me to have them reapplied, so Saturday I did just that.  As I was sitting in the nail salon, watching Tracy perform this service for me, I watched as my short, ugly, unattractive nails turned into something pretty, clean, beautiful.  In about an hour she was able to transform my unsightly nails into something really very pretty.  As Tracy worked, I began to think of other things that can be changed by covering them.
It’s been said that you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.  While that might be true, I believe that you can probably make a purse out of pretty much anything, even the ear of a pig.  Bedazzle the heck out of it, and it might turn out to be pretty cute!  But in the end, when it’s all said and done, what you really have is just the body part of a pig, covered in jewels and sparklies.
What about something else…..what about…..sin?  I was reminded of that old hymn:
“What can wash away my sin?  Nothing but the blood of Jesus.  What can make me whole again?  Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”
I looked down at my nails.  One hand was almost done, and Tracy was starting on the other hand.  As I stared at the completed hand, nails covered in acrylic, buffed and polished, they were beautiful.  I thought "that’s what Jesus’ blood did for me".  It covers my dreadful, wicked, sinful self, so that when my Father looks at me, all he sees is the blood that Jesus shed, making me beautiful, making me worthy to be looked upon by God Almighty.  In about 3 weeks, I’ll have to go back and see Tracy, so that she can fill in the gap between my cuticle and my nail, caused by my natural nail growing. 
When I was in college, I was in a trio.  One of the first songs we sang was “The Blood Will Never Lose It’s Power”.  The first verse says:
The blood that Jesus shed for me,
way back on Calvary;
the blood that gives me strength
from day to day,
it will never lose its power.
Just like these acrylic nails cover the imperfections of my natural nails, the blood of Jesus covers my sin – no matter what I do, how much I get off track from time to time, His blood never loses the power to cover my sin, and to make me acceptable in the sight of God.
For this, I will be eternally grateful.  For this, I will praise Him all of my days. 

Friday, March 23, 2012

On Death


One night this past week, my mom, my husband and I were sitting in my living room, talking about death.  I said that one of the things that bothers me so much about getting older is the fact that death becomes so much more real – probably because as I get older, the people I know get older and pass away.  All of my grandparents are already gone, and I was really sad at their funerals.  However, I was not prepared at all for the way the passing of my brother, Jeff, affected me.  Jeff was only 32 years old when he died, unexpectedly.  He had a brain aneurysm that suddenly burst.  We were living in Nashville at the time, and I have to tell you, that 12 hour drive home seemed to last forever.  I begged my sister in law to just please keep Jeff alive (he was on life support) until I could get to him.  She did, but when I walked into that hospital room and saw him lying there, I was taken back.  His body was there, but he wasn’t.  The day we buried Jeff was the saddest day of my life.  That was 15 years ago, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about him.  As I sat in the funeral service, I kept thinking of I Thessalonians 4:13:
But we do not want you to be ignorant, brothers, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve like other people who have no hope.
I had heard this verse in church most of my life, but it didn’t take on real meaning until that day.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen others pass on to be with the Lord, and I’ve watched as many of my loved ones have had a close brush with death.  My father in law passed away last year, my husband was diagnosed with lymphoma, and now my brother in law has been diagnosed with a rare cancer.  We are getting older, and death is part of the natural cycle of life.  As my mom, my husband and I talked the other night about it, this verse came to mind again.               
                “…so that you may not grieve like other people who have no hope.”
What a comfort that is! We have the hope, and the promise, that we will see our loved ones again.  This morning on the way to work, I heard Jeremy Camp sing a song on the radio, and the chorus goes like this:

There will be a day, with no more tears
No more pain, and no more fears
There will be a day, when the burdens of this place
Will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face.

As I listened to this song, I thought about my conversation this week, I thought about Jeff, and my heart was filled with gratitude, knowing that one day, I will be reunited with those I love who were lucky enough to have gone to heaven before me.  Below is a picture taken many, many years ago of my brothers and me - Jeff is the one standing up in the back.
Jeff, save me a seat right beside you – after I talk to Jesus, you and I have a lot of catching up to do!


Here's the video of "There will be a day" by Jeremy Camp


 

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A Wounded Heart

When my oldest daughter, Aimee Beth, was a little girl she would sometimes get in trouble.  I always just walked her to her room and told her to stay there until I came and got her – she was instructed to think about what she had done.  Several times when I did this, she would look up at me, tears running down her face, bottom lip puffed out and say, “Mommy, you’re breaking my heart!”  It was all I could do not to cave right then and there.
We’ve all gone through having our heart broken, whether it’s from  breaking up with your first love, a fight with your parents because they just don’t understand you, a friend’s betrayal, a child’s rebellion, a spouse’s hurtful words or actions.  These are common things really, they happen to everyone at some time in their life. 
How do we get through these dark times and come through to the other side unscarred?  Truth is, we can’t, not on our own steam.  That’s why there are so many successful therapists today – not that I’m knocking therapy, that’s not the case at all.  I believe that counseling can truly help.  But, for me, there has to be more.
I have a wounded heart today.  It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last.  As I was driving to work this morning, I was praying that God would help me through it, that He would give me wisdom.  Immediately I was reminded of an old song that Wayne Watson (anybody remember him?) sang:  Friend of a Wounded Heart.  The chorus goes like this:

Jesus, He meets you where you are.
           Oh, Jesus, He heals your secret scars         
   All the love you're longing for is Jesus
The friend of a wounded heart.

Psalm 147:3 says, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

This where I am today – at the feet of Jesus, asking my Father to heal my wounded heart.


Monday, March 19, 2012

Enough

This morning on my way to work, I was thinking (while sitting in that dang traffic on 75S between White Avenue and Eldorado Parkway) about various things.  One of the advantages of not filling your brain with too much knowledge is that your mind is free and open to let thoughts just roam around.  One of my first thoughts was: "How many days do I have to sit in this line of traffic before I remember to take the Wilmeth Exit and go down the service road until both lanes of the highway open up again?"  Seriously, how dense am I?  I told myself it's Monday morning and cut myself some slack, thankful that I had a travel mug full of coffee and let my mind wander.

For the last couple of weeks, I've been thinking about my life.  I have a wonderful husband and family who love me no matter what.  I live in a decent house, but it's nothing special.  I drive a 2008 Honda Civic, nice car, gets me where I'm going, but it's not my dream vehicle.  I have a good job, I really like it, but I don't like the long drive every day.  I have clothes and shoes and jewelry - Lord do I have the costume jewelry - I'm addicted to it.  I love big, fake rings and necklaces and earrings and bracelets, I can't help it.  My husband says he can always tell what I will like - if it's gaudy I'll absolutely love it.  He's right.  And I don't care.  It's who I am. 

Ungrateful.  That's also who I am.  When is enough, enough??  That question keeps popping up in my mind.

I want:
  •   a newer, bigger home
  •   a Ford F-150 SuperCab - yes, that's my dream vehicle
  •   more clothes
  •   more shoes
  •   more purses
  •   more big fake jewelry
  •   a big savings account
I need:
  • Absolutely nothing.
 It's true - there's not one material thing that I actually need.
 
One of my favorite worship songs is "Enough", by Chris Tomlin.  Here are the lyrics:

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough


You are my supply
My breath of life
And still more awesome than I know
You are my reward
worth living for
And still more awesome than I know


All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough


You’re my sacrifice
Of greatest price
And still more awesome than I know
You’re the coming King
You are everything
And still more awesome than I know


More than all I want
More than all I need
You are more than enough for me
More than all I know
More than all I can say
You are more than enough for me


Yes, I love this song.  But I'm a big fat hypocrite because I don't live this way everyday.  There are people in this world who would love to have what I have, they would be ever so grateful, and yet, I complain about not having what I want.  When my kids were growing up, they would come to me and say, "Mom, I need _________".  I tried to teach them the difference between a need and a want. 

All 3 of my kids learned that lesson.  How come I missed it?

I have a friend - more of an acquaintance, really - whose husband lost his job last week.  It was the kind of job that required him be away from his family alot, but they were thankful for his employment.  When that job ended, as jobs do for so many nowadays, all she could say was "We have peace", and she quoted Philippians 4:11:  " Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatever state I am, therewith to be content."

Conviction.  Yet again.  I have so much more than I deserve. 

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough


He really is enough - everything else is just background noise.  God please help me to remember this, every day, from now on.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Filter Required

Today has been a day of cleaning.  We're going to be gone all day tomorrow - church, nephew's birthday party, life group - so I've tried to get as much done today as I can.  We (meaning, my husband) are also re-doing our kitchen cabinets, and Mike realized that the new hinges he bought weren't going to work, so he went into town and exchanged them.  While he was gone I decided to clean all the old ashes out of our fireplace.  I carefully swept them up and put them into a trashbag.  There were still a few ashes that I couldn't get completely, so I went out to the garage and hauled in the wet/dry vacuum.  I plugged it in, turned it on, and started sucking up the rest of the ashes. 

 Before long I realized that there was a very strange haze all around me.  I had no idea what had happened, but everything just looked foggy.  I guessed that it had something to do with the wet/dry vacuum, but I was pretty much finished using it anyway, so  I took it back outside.  About that time my husband called.  "I think I might have messed something up", I said.  I told him what happened and he said, "Oh, I know exactly what the problem is.  The filter that's on the vacuum now is for wet clean-ups.  You need the one for dry clean-ups".

There are 2 different filters for this raggedy old wet/dry vacuum?  Who knew?  I chose that moment to take our sweet little dogs out for a potty break, and to get some air.  As we walked down the driveway, I got to thinking about filters and how important they are.  So many things we use every day  require a filter be in place, otherwise the end results could be disastrous.

I stopped in my tracks.  Holy Moses....another teaching moment for me.  Maybe one day I'll be "on track" enough that God can just fill my blog post with an incredibly riveting story or some witty dialogue that I've had with a very interesting person.  For now, it seems, I have a lesson to re-learn, so here we go:

Where do I need a filter?  On my mouth, of course.  My mind immediately went to Psalm 141:3, which says, "Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; Keep watch over the door of my lips". 

People that know me well will tell you that I can talk a blue streak.  Most of the time what I say is interesting or funny or entertaining, but sometimes, what comes out of my mouth can be downright ugly: gossip, back-biting, complaining, mumbling under my breath, bickering, the list goes on.  I know this happens with everyone at one time or another, but the truth is, the only person I'm responsible for is me. 

In order for me to be able to live for God, to make even a slight difference, I must remember how powerful my tongue can be, and that a filter is required.



Friday, March 16, 2012

Construction

Highway 75 runs north and south.  In McKinney, Texas, there are 2 lanes on either side.  As I was driving into work yesterday morning on 75 south, I saw the sign proclaiming, in bright yellow lit up letters, that the left lane was closed ahead.  Being the conscientious driver that I am, I moseyed into the right lane.  Many of my fellow commuters chose to stay in the left lane in the hopes of getting a little ahead of the crowd before that lane actually closed.  I was behind an 18 wheeler, driving 23 mph, listening to the radio, when I heard honking.  I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw a big ole pick-up truck, driving in the middle of the 2 lanes.  Obviously he saw the bright yellow sign too, and he was not about to let anyone else by.  These were not just little taps on the horns, they were they long, blaring, “Get the heck out of my way!” blasts.  These drivers weren’t just angry, they were downright mad.  It made me laugh, and I turned the KSCS radio station up louder so as to drown out the honking, which went on until the left lane actually closed and the people behind us had no choice but to merge into the right lane. 
I didn’t think much more about it until this morning as I was travelling to work.  I’m on 75, going south, and yep, there’s the “Left Lane Closed Ahead” sign.  I get into the right lane and I’ll be darn if the same thing doesn’t happen again!  This time, the vehicle behind me driving in the middle of the 2 lanes was some kind of SUV.  Honking ensued, to no avail.  What are the chances of this happening 2 days in a row?  Coincidence?  Maybe.  But I began thinking, which my husband tells me can sometimes be dangerous, but I indulge myself anyway.  Ok, God, you don’t have to hit me upside the head, what are you trying to teach me?  The 2 vehicles behind me were only trying to convince the drivers behind him to do what they were supposed to do and what was fair to others – merge into the right lane and wait your turn. 
And there it is - Brenda's lesson for the day.
 What those 2 drivers of righteousness didn’t consider was the fact that what they were doing wasn’t right either – is it illegal or just dangerous to drive in the middle of 2 lanes on the highway?  Immediately my mind went to that verse in Matthew that asks, “Why do you see the speck in your brother’s eye but fail to notice the beam in your own eye?” 
As I’ve mentioned before, I was raised in a very legalistic environment – home, church, Christian school.  I remember when I was a teenager, there were a few old biddies (I can use this term because I’m old now) that seemed like they just waited for someone in the Youth Group to mess up so that they could go straight to our Youth Pastor and report them – whether the infraction was talking in church, holding hands with the opposite sex, girls wearing pants on the weekends – it didn’t really matter what the violation, it was the mission of these chosen few to point it out and make sure it was addressed. 
 I’m wondering how many times I have been guilty of doing this to others.
 I was raised to think that standing in righteous judgment of others was a gift, a virtue, a right of the older and wiser generation. I'm older now, but does that necessarily mean I'm any more wise?
I’m struck with the realization that you can’t make people do what you think is right.  In reality, why would we want to make anyone do anything they don't choose to do themselves?  Don’t we have enough to worry about making sure we ourselves make the right choices?  I know for me, it’s a full time job.  Maybe I needed to be reminded of this, and because I can be a little hard-headed, God had to use a real life experience to reiterate this to me and get me back on track. 
So, I’m left with Romans 12:3, which tells us not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think.  This verse is what I’ll be focusing on today as I work. 
 My toes are already a little sore – good thing I’ve got a desk job.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Fascination

I love my job.  I am an administrative assistant and I support 4 Gastroenteroligists and 3 Hepatologists.  I've only been doing this for a little over a year, and I've learned so much about colons and livers.  By nature, I am the kind of person who likes to take care of people, and my doctors quickly picked up on that and they make sure I have plenty to do!  I love my doctors and am very thankful for the relationships I have with them.  They've been very good to me.

Yesterday, I had to walk over to St. Paul Hospital, where one of my doctors was spending his day doing procedures.  He told me he would leave some paperwork I needed from him with the lady at the front desk.  Of course, he had forgotten to leave it with her.  She called back to one of the procedure rooms and asked for him.  I heard the nurse say, "Yes, he is here, but he is scoping. Tell Brenda to come on back."  So, I did.  I walked my happy self right into that room and was told to "stand right there and watch this".  I looked up at the screen suspended above a sleeping patient and realized that I was waching a colonoscopy - not on TLC, but in real life!

 Yes, this fascinated me.  If that makes me weird or gross, so be it - I was indeed fascinated.  I watched the screen in awe as Dr. S. looked at the inside of a colon, turning the wand (or whatever they call it) every which way.  He found a polyp, he snipped it and it was deposited into a small jar filled halfway with saline solution.  He did this over and over until he was positive there were no polyps left.  Incidentally, the polyps on the screen appeared much bigger than they were in that little jar of saline solution.  While I was watching this procedure, Dr. S. and one of his nurses explained every step to me and answered my questions.  "See that shady area right there?  That's the liver.  Over here is the appendix".   At the end of the procedure, Dr. S. turned the wand in such a way that the scope was "looking at itself", trying to get a reflection of itself, making sure Dr. S. didn't miss anything.

Yep, I was completely fascinated by this process.  Of course, given my present state of mind (see yesterday's post), as I walked back to my office, my thoughts were going in every direction, but they quickly landed on one word: analogy.  As gross as it may sound, I began thinking of what a patient has to go through just to prepare for a colonoscopy.  They have to drink nasty stuff and wait for everything to be cleared out - all the "crap" (pun intended) has to be removed so that the doctor can go in and inspect the colon, looking for polyps that will be snipped out and biopsied to check for cancer.  Here's the analogy:  Christians are just people - no one is better than another, and sometimes, in my case, a lot of times, the "crap" needs to be cleaned out of our lives so that God can actually use us.  I think that God, in His infinite wisdom, allows us to go through things - tough things - hard times - drinking that "nasty stuff" that causes us to finally humble ourselves and shine the light on the junk that needs to be cleaned out.  That's the point when God can take His scope and go deep into our hearts and snip out the cancerous polyps that are keeping us from knowing Him better and from truly, honestly giving everything to Him, so that He can actually use us.

For me, it really hit home when I thought about Dr. S. turning that wand so that the scope could see a reflection of itself - when God looks at me, I mean, when He shines that light brightly and really looks at me, does He see a reflection of Himself?  What do other people see when they look at me?  Is there even a glimmer of a reflection of God?

So.....that's what I thought about yesterday afternoon and most of last night. 

Soon, I plan on observing a liver biopsy.....I wonder what I will take away from that experience? 

I do, indeed, love my job.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

The Writing on the Wall

The Writing on the Wall
It’s not often that I take notes during the sermon in church.  Sometimes I might jot down a note, or underline a verse in my Bible, but rarely do I copy the outline from the overhead screen, much less take detailed notes.  This past Sunday, I did what I rarely do.  I wrote during the entire sermon.  Doak Taylor (Lifepoint Fellowship in McKinney) preached on Daniel 5:1-30, which is basically the story of when King Balshazzar was partying up in the castle while everyone else was fighting a major war outside.  When the King, in his inebriated state, began praising the gods of gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood and stone, the fingers of a human hand began writing on the wall.  This scared the king so much that he became pale and his knees began knocking together.  The King didn’t understand the meaning of what was written on the wall, so he called in Daniel to interpret for him. Daniel proceeds to remind King Balshazzar of the time when his father, Nebuchadnezzar, became arrogant and prideful, which resulted in him losing his throne and being driven away from the people.  He was given the mind of an animal, lived with the donkeys and ate grass.  Finally, after living like that for 7 years, Nebuchadnezzar acknowledged God as being sovereign and he was restored.
Now, I was raised in church and have heard this story many times.  I honestly don’t remember the part about Nebuchadnezzar being given the mind of an animal and him living with the donkeys and eating grass for 7 years, but everyone has heard about the “writing on the wall”.  Until this past Sunday, I never really gave it much thought.  In essence, God told the King that because he had chosen not to honor the God who holds his very life in his hands, his days were numbered.  So, the King is going to die.  While this is a sobering thought, it’s a part of life.  Then, God tells him that “you have been weighed on the scales, and found wanting”.  Ok, I might vaguely remember this part, but it never hit me like this before.  Maybe I should take detailed notes during sermons more often, because I can’t stop thinking about this message. 
You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting.  These words reverberate in my mind, and I keep wondering, not if I’ve been found wanting, but by how much?  I mean really, how bad am I?  Am I full of pride?  Do I ignore the truth?  Have I been lifting myself up?  Do I ignore the Source of life’s breath? 
Conviction.  It overwhelmed me on Sunday, and hasn’t let up since.  I have prayed about it, but only half heartedly.  You see, the truth is, I don’t want this conviction to go away.  I want to think about this every day.  I want it to continue to overwhelm me; otherwise, I know I will not change.  I will continue to be selfish and prideful, thinking only of those in my little world.  For the first time in a very long time, I have a deep desire for God to get hold of my heart, and keep convicting me, and not let go until I am truly a changed person, from the inside out.
I’m not sure I have the courage to pray this prayer.  So, for now, I’m just praying for courage.


Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Yet another blog.....

Ok, so this is new to me.  I've read many other people's blogs and I am fascinated.  They post pictures, write witty paragraphs, and let us all have a little sneak peak into the best parts of their lives.  I've not yet decided how I want my blog to play out, but I'm thinking I'd like something a little different.  I don't want to write with the hopes of people I've never met, all around the country, reading it.  That doesn't interest me at all.  I'm more interested in putting something down that has a little more substance to it.....mostly for myself. 

My life isn't perfect, hasn't been perfect, nor will it ever be perfect, so I sure hope that no one reads my posts hoping to only see the good stuff.  Not that I don't have alot of good stuff in my life...I am truly blessed, more than I deserve. I am married to the absolute best man I've ever met.  My kids love me and actually want to spend time with me.  I have 2 brothers that I love with all my heart, my sister in law is actually my best friend, my parents are still alive.  I have a home and a job and a car and the bills get paid.  My children are grown so I have no responsibilities to anyone other than my husband.  We pretty much do what we want, and life is good.

 But I also have the yukky stuff too.  I was raised in a very strict, independent, fundamental Baptist home, saw and suffered abuse, had dreams, went to college, got married, gave birth to 3 kids, and got divorced.  As a single mom I worked 2 jobs, raised 3 teenagers (and they lived to tell about it), and remarried.  I know what it's like to lose grandparents, a brother, and a father in law.  I know the joy of becoming a Gram for the first time, and the heartbreak of learning a loved one has cancer. 

This is life - it's my life:  It represents how I grew up, people I knew, things I saw and experienced first hand, how they have made me who I am and how I feel about them. 

This is Me.