But the Old Testament is old

Romans 15:4

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

Oh, I love and adore the Old Testament. I study it, drink it in, ponder it, meditate on it, imagine myself there and thank God over and over again for it.

I know most people love the New Testament. I know why-I mean, Christ is there. How do we know Him, other than to study where He is? A wise friend of mine told of how a wise friend of hers reads the Gospels once a week. This friend told of the intimacy with Christ that this practice brings. I do want to add that into my weekly routine.

I think the reason, though, that the Old Testament speaks to me so loudly is because my life feels so much like that of an Old Testament believer. Their faith was exercised, stretched, demonstrated and demanded over and over again. I feel like I am serving an Old Testament God.

The God of my life demands that radical faith. He's performing miracles. He's asking me if I'm going to believe. He's telling me to do wonderful, strange and amazing things, the likes of which makes me feel totally and certifiably crazy.

For me, it's so easy to read these Old Testament stories and nod my head and go on. I've heard them from the time I sat on my tiny stool in my little Sunday School class, most likely illustrated with water color posters or felt boards. It was as an adult that I read these stories with fresh eyes. I read parts that I had NEVER heard or read before (God almost killed Moses on the way to Egypt because he hadn't circumcised his son so his wife whips out a knife and does the deed right there in the middle of the road to save her husband's life? WHAT? Miriam, along with Aaron, later become so jealous of Moses that they vehemently oppose him, which leads to their leprosy and only Moses' intercession heals them? WHAT? Those parts weren't on the felt board!) There is so much to these tried and true stories that I somehow missed all these years. This sent me scurrying back to Genesis to start over with a fine tooth comb. And oh the joys that were there to be found.

I think for me, as it always blasted does, it comes back to faith. Over and over again these people's faith is what is demanded, tested, stretched and rewarded. I mean, think of it. Noah. Build a boat. Come on, really, really put yourself there. God speaks to you, tells you to go out to a vacant lot and build a boat 450 long and 3 stories high. (A football field is only 360 feet long.) This is where I get fired up. COME ON and really, really think about it. Put yourself there. What did his wife say? His family? His neighbors? What did he think, day after day, when he's pounding away on that ark? How many times did he ask, "God, are you sure about this?" Did he look up at the cloudless sky, shake his head and keep nailing those nails? Did he ever feel like giving up? Did God offer constant reassurance? Did he ever lay in bed, wondering if he had heard God all wrong? Did he decided that even if he were crazy and he had gotten it all wrong that God would bless his obedience anyway?

I ask myself questions about this, of course. What if God just told me to go buy a boat and put it in my front yard. You know, because we might need it one day. Would I?

It happens over and over again. I get to see, with the indescribably beauty of hindsight, the amazing way that God worked in people's lives in the OT. I get to see the beginning, the middle and the end of a story where that person had to stumble through step by step, blindly treading a path that they had no idea where it would lead.

The story I'm most in love with right now involves Elisha. He had a crazy couple of chapters: seeing his beloved Elijah being taken up to heaven, seeing 42 young men mocking God being killed by a bear, dealings with a king involving a water miracle... He was a busy man. A sweet widow approaches him and asks for help. She couldn't afford to pay her family's taxes, and her two sons were going to be taken as a slaves for payment of those taxes. She had already lost her husband, and now she was about to lose her sons. This is where I pause, and sink into this woman's situation. I can't imagine her fear. Her panic. Her desperate situation. She runs to Elisha, tells him her predicament. He asks her what she has in her house and she tells him all she has is some oil. So he says this to her:

Then he said, "Go outside, borrow vessels from all your neighbors, empty vessels and not too few. Then go in and shut the door behind yourself and your sons and pour into all these vessels. And when one is full, set it aside."

So here is when I interject my self into this story. I, as this sweet woman, look at Elisha and do the double blink. *blink, blink* "Um, I'm sorry. Did you hear me? I need help. Money preferably. Someone to talk to the government for me. Did you hear what I said? And you want me to go do what? Um, okay." I would have walked off, shaking with fear and trepidation. Feeling frustrated. Did he hear me? I am about to lose it all.

Now maybe this is where my faith already fails me. Maybe she was desperate enough to immediately do what he said. Maybe she didn't even do the double blink. Maybe she never gave it a second thought.

But, whether or not she thought that things were going to work out, she obeyed. Stepped out in faith. Because here she goes. She sends out her sons to knock on her neighbor's door. "Hey, there, neighbor. Can I borrow your jug? I'll bring it back."

Neighbor: "Why do you need it?"

Sons: "We don't know."

Neighbor: "You don't know?"

Sons: "No. We don't. We will let you know later though. Thanks"

I'm guessing they answered this question over and over again. Got some weird looks. Blank stares. And that's not really the huge deal. I get weird looks and blank stares a lot, and I'm not asking my neighbors for random objects. But anywhere during this process, did the sons think she was crazy? Did she think she was crazy? Go back to Elisha and say, "Are you sure about this?" What did she tell her sons? Did they look at their living area crowded with jugs and wonder what the heck they were doing? Was there doubt and/or fear?

Whether or not there was, they started pouring that oil. The obvious miracle was that the tiny bit of oil that she had filled those jars over and over again. She went back to Elisha, and he told her this:

She came and told the man of God, and he said, "Go, sell the oil and pay your debts, and you and your sons can live on the rest."

Well, there you go. They did and probably lived happily after. But wait. Oh there is so much here. This story is just a paragraph or two in 2 Kings, but OH MY GOSH, this story has just rocked my world here lately.

Here's where I sink and swim in this story. As soon as Elisha told her what to do, she had two choices. Do what he said or not. The rational choice would have been to shake her head, think that Elisha was crazy and go home. I mean come ON. What he told her to do had nothing to do with what she came to him with help on. Huge choice. Obey or not. I can camp there for a long time.

But there's more. Elisha really had miraculous powers. He could have just poofed out $20 out of the air and handed it to her. Taxes taken care of, all is well. But here's the thing. He made the whole situation dependent on her faith and her obedience. Had she walked away, she wouldn't have gotten what she needed. So it was totally up to her.

And what if Elisha would have popped that money out of the air. Or found it behind a bush. (Man, those Old Testament people loved their bushes.) Or whatever. What would she have missed out on?

A miracle.

Because of her obedience and faith, she got to see and partake in a miracle. MAN, if I weren't connected to this computer I'd get up and jump up and down. She got to touch and feel a MIRACLE. OH MAN!!!!!!

That just blows me away. What miracles in my life am I missing because I don't step out on faith? I hear people say that God doesn't do daily miracles anymore. I mean we all know He saves lives of sick people and I don't want to diminish those types of miracles. But am I missing out on crazy, mind blowing miracles that God wants to do in my own life because I don't do crazy, mind blowing things God asks me to do ?

Yep.

And this is why I love the Old Testament. There is so much for me. I can't get enough. I want to meet this sweet lady when I get to heaven. I want to thank her for her faith and how it's inspiring me to do crazy stuff in my own life.

Bummer

We love fall. Oh, it's my favorite. When I planned our school year, I planned a week long break the week before Halloween to just play. I wanted to go to the zoo, parks, hiking, just any fun thing that we could do outside. Then we would cap the week off with one of our favorite holidays, Halloween. I was SO excited!!!!

Then.

Not a huge deal, but I got sick on Sunday night. Just a cold. But you know, I really hate colds. You can't breathe, you have no energy and yet, it's just a cold, so you have to keep plodding along like you aren't sick. Because you aren't really sick. You just have a cold. Ugh.

Maybe I'm just Queen of the Wimps, but I can't do school when I have a cold like this. Our school, much like everyone's school, I'm sure, consists of 4 solid hours of talking, reading and discussing. I just can't do it when I might end up in a fit of coughing or worse yet, it HURTS to talk.

So, I had no choice (well, I did, but as the Queen of the Wimps, I didn't really) but to not do school this week.

But, so I wouldn't feel like the week was wasted, I decided to deep clean the upstairs, finish organizing the winter clothes, get the laundry done and get the downstairs clean. Ugh.

Warning: whining ahead.

So now our precious Fall Celebration Week has turned into a Clean Your House Week? Say it isn't so...

So here are my options. Take next week off too, and make up the week somewhere else. That wouldn't be too hard to do, since we have some other weeks scheduled off here and there. Or we can just slowly make up the week by doing an extra day a week until the week is made up. OR we can do school next week and just do our fun stuff in the afternoons. *sigh*

I am thankful that it's just a cold, with all the swine flu and such that is going around. I just feel like I'm wasting sick days on a silly old cold. Oh well...

So, I don't know what to do. Ideas? Anyone up for some fall fun next week? Maybe that will help me decide what to do!

Sorry for the whining. I'll try to not do it ever again!

Old Baker's Farm

We got the priviledge of going to Old Baker's Farm again this year. We just love that place. The Baker's are the nicest people, and I love their farm. If you ever get a chance to go, you really should.

I loved looking back at the picture from last year. It was a complete coincidence that the boys chose to wear the same shirts they wore last year. I love that! I can't believe how much they have all changed in a year's time.

This is my dream house. Really, it is.

Jude had learned about baby chicks in school the week before, and he was really excited about seeing these chicks. He really wanted to take one home. Really badly.

Zane's favorite book is called Yuck! Stuck in the Muck. "The duck flew up. The duck got stuck in the muck..." Zane was very excited about seeing some real ducks.

They got to pick cotton too! It was a super fun, despite the heat! We love the farm!!!!

I have finally nailed down my chili recipe

I have been trying several chili recipes for a while now. I have finally settled on this one, that for now, is our favorite. It's so easy, pretty cheap and makes a good bit of food. I love to have chili turkey dogs, chili fries or chili baked potatoes with left over chili too. Such a perfect time of food for this time of year! So here it is, in all it's simplistic glory:

1 pound ground turkey
3 or 4 cans of dark and light red kidney beans
1 28oz can diced tomatoes
1t cumin
1/2t cayenne pepper
1/2t sea salt
1/2t fresh ground black pepper
2T chili powder

In case you are a remedial cook like I am, "t" is for teaspoon and "T" is for tablespoon. Imagine the disasters until I figured that out...

I add some water, about 3/4 cup, to make it more soupy. I love to do this in the crock pot, especially on Sunday mornings. When you walk in the house, the smell is fabulous! Allen adds hot sauce to his, while the kids and I like it wimpy. You can play with the spices, obviously, to get it to your liking.

So there it is. Simple. Wonderful!

That chick really bugs me

Have you ever been in church and looked over and seen her? You know who she is. She's standing there, innocently enough. She's absolutely put together, no hair out of place, clothes just right. It's obvious that she's hasn't struggled with 15 extra pounds that have lingered since the birth of her last child-the child that is now 3 years old. She looks well rested and very put together. She is standing happily beside her husband, and it's very evident that he adores her. Probably because she didn't yell at her husband that if he didn't hurry up, they were going to be late to church and she wasn't going to get her preferred seat in church. (Sure enough, they were 2.7 minutes late...) Her children are there too, perfectly matched. Her son does not have on his red Cars sock with his Spider Man tennis shoes, blue shorts and pink and blue plaid button down dress shirt. Her children don't appear to insist on dressing themselves. Their faces are clean, their hair brushed. They are all smiling and happy to be in church, not passing notes, not poking her, asking her when it's going to be over or trying the bathroom trick one more time. You can even go so far as to guess that her house is neat and clean, she cooks only healthy, nutritious food, and she never wastes time on Facebook. Or Twitter. Or whatever...

Ugh. A modern day Super Woman. I am so not her. Obviously.

I always kinda feel that way about the Proverbs 31 woman too. I mean why did Solomon stick her at the end of this amazing book on wisdom? Why did she get to end the whole book? Just to make me feel crappy about my short comings?

I read this text again recently, and through my usual groanings about this amazing woman, a verse jumped out at me. I've read it a hundred times, but I guess because of where I am in my life, it really jumped off the page and slapped me in the face. Oh, here it is...

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

Oh come on!!! Really? She laughs at the years to come? You mean

THIS CHICK WOULDN'T EVER DYE HER GRAY HAIR?????

*sigh* Okay, maybe this isn't exactly what Solomon meant. Maybe he's not referring to her actual looks, or the fact that she's getting old. Maybe only because where I am in my life did I interpret it this way.

But I did interpret it that way. Boy did I. I have gray hair. Lots of it. I have wrinkles, which have only recently started to bother me. I'm getting that rooster neck. Stop laughing- I AM. I saw it in the rear view mirror in the van and I almost cried! I still can't get rid of these stupid extra pounds ( I KNOW you're tired of hearing about them. I'm tired of carrying them around!) and things are sagging that have never sagged this much before. (I don't think I have a single solitary male reader, but if I ever did, I think that probably just sent them running for the hills never to return.)

I mean come on. I'm only 37 (choke) and I'm falling apart. It's not supposed to be like this for at least 3 more years. My mom and grandmothers didn't go gray until well in their 40's. What the heck is going on? (coughcoughzanecoughcough)

So anyway, I have had some time to reflect on these issues, and there are some tough questions to be asked. Why do I care so much about the way I look? There is a difference in presenting a proper appearance and trying to recapture the looks of your 20's. I don't want to look 20 again, but dang it if I don't want to look 40 yet.

Okay, so enough about the outside. This is really a heart issue. If I wore very out of fashion clothes, had tons of frizzy gray hair and wore no makeup, God would still adore me, right? So the hang up is mine.

Where is the healthy boundary with caring about how you look, but not caring how you look? I ain't gonna lie. I got me some henna upstairs right now, and tonight, I'm washing this gray out of my hair. I'm even going to give myself a mani and a pedi. When I could be doing Bible study.

See my dilemma?

Okay, here's all I got so far. I need to want to care for the poor, sick and needy more than I want to buy myself a new pair of shoes at Target. I need to be more concerned about my tongue and what it wags than I care that I have a new studded bracelet to participate in the stud trend for fall. I need to care more about the thoughts that are in my head than the gray hair that sits on top of that brain. I need to be more concerned with doing good with my body than caring how many extra pounds are on said body.

Or maybe it's all or nothing. Maybe we are products of our society that says you are only valuable if you are beautiful. Maybe I am so insecure in myself that I figure if I'm half way decent looking, people will like me based on that and not what's inside.Maybe I am so damaged that I need the admiration from complete and total strangers based on looks alone. All of this is humbling and terrifying to think about. Maybe I'm more concerned about what's on the outside because allowing God to work on the inside is at times excruciating. Maybe I'm afraid He'll ask me to put away my henna and my cute clothes. Maybe I think if I study His Word enough, He'll let me keep my vanity.

Gross. Usually I can blog some of this stuff and get it worked out, but honestly I think this is something that He and I are going to have to hash out. I think it's awesome that I'm having to let go of some of this due to the aging process. We have all seen those ladies who are older, yet dress like their daughters and look rather ridiculous. I don't want to be her, I promise.

I want to age gracefully. I want to not care what I look like. I want to honor God with my life, and do that without caring that time has marched across my face. And my rear.

*I* want to laugh at the years to come. Whether or not that's what Solomon meant.

Oh, and as to why he ended this book with this chapter, I thought this was pretty cool. (Some faiths don't want to spell out God's name, so they do a number of different things. I have seen it written G_d before, and this lady prefers to write it a different way. Don't let that distract you from her perspective. It's an interesting one...)

"I’ve always wondered why Proverbs 31 ended with this poem about this woman. So have others. It seems odd. And after all the focus on wisdom and gaining it, why does this book end with a woman going about her mundane daily activities? Part of the answer to this in how the Jewish sages defined wisdom. Wisdom was not just knowledge gained for knowledge’s sake. Wisdom was knowledge that was to be applied to everyday life. In the Bible Godde created the world and set boundaries and laws to govern what Godde created. Wisdom sought to define those boundaries and apply those laws to their daily lives. This woman is living wisdom."

link:http://www.shawnaatteberry.com/

I want to live wisdom. Oh, Lord, help me to live wisdom. Then I'll know what to do about all the other stuff.

(disclaimer: this post has absolutely nothing to do with anyone who dyes their own hair. And I'm talking to you, you that knows who you are;) )

Not fun Amy

I promise that I don't watch "Friends" anymore, and haven't for years. Unfortunately I can't get all the one liners out of my head and they pop up again and again. I remember the episode where they were having a New Year's Eve party, and a lot was going wrong and everyone was really down and sad at the party. They couldn't' wait for Monica's current boyfriend, Fun Bobby, to get there. Bobby was always... well, fun. Made things fun. Made people laugh. When Bobby did show up, he was sad. His grandmother (grandfather?) had died and he was sobbing. He was NOT Fun Bobby. And he didn't help the party any by sobbing through it.

Oh fine. Here, it's clean. Relive those 90's.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gcQqMn4yLc

Lately I have felt like NOT Fun Amy. I don't laugh a whole lot. I'm quickly losing my "Funniest Facebook Status Updater" award. (Wait. I didn't win that? What, nobody has noticed that I'm not funny anymore? You mean the world has more to do than notice that I'm not funny anymore? Humph.) I feel a little short with my kids and definitely not having a ball with life. It's just heavy. Oh I miss laughing. I mean I do, some. Laugh, I mean.You can't live in this house and not laugh at these kids. But the laughter is fewer and more far between.

I've been really busy, with school, the kids, the house. Allen has been really really busy, so that means that I'm busier, in general. My sweet precious friends have been really busy too. I don't see them enough. They are doing school, taking care of sick babies, caring for their families, and holding down the fort while their husbands work and take care of their businesses. My blog hasn't been light. No funny pictures or amusing update. (Gag. Those are just for me anyway) My most favorite laugh partner, my husband, has been really busy too. He hasn't been here much, and when he has been, we haven't laughed much. Too tired. Too heavy. (Now before anyone starts wondering, Allen and I are just fine. Really. God is doing wonderful and amazing things in Allen's life too, and we are still each other's most favorite Earthly things. I promise. There, I feel better getting that out.)

But. And this is a big but (no pun intended) there is still joy. And I mean that. Really, I do. Joy is so much different than happiness. Happiness floats in and out of my life quicker than water flows off a duck's back. I'm happy because I got a great movie from the library, then I'm unhappy because fall went away and it's summer again. Happiness is fickle. It's not dependable. It's not trustworthy. It doesn't serve me well. Thanks to my one million hormones, I can get cranky in a flash, for no good reason at. all. I've learned not to try my friend, happiness. I used to chase her with all I had. I was only happy when she was near. I have learned, through some tough years, that she's not actually that good of a friend. I found one much more dear.

Joy. (Waving to my own dear real life Joy. Oh how you sweetly live up to your name...) The Merriam-Webster definition of joy is, "a source or cause of delight." Delight. That means, "extreme satisfaction." So here we go. The "cause" of my "extreme satisfaction" is not my circumstances. It's not my state of well being. It is, of course, the fact that I am a child of the High King. A child of the Creator of the universe. I am bought and paid for by the blood of His Son. I know to Whom I belong. I know where I'm going, and I know how the story ends. How can you ever despair when you know how the story ends?

I love to laugh. And I do laugh. Loudly. (Hush) But becoming more important to me is not so much the laughter, but the constant praise in my heart. Even when things are tough, my heart is singing to the One that I love. I KNOW that the harder things are, the better off I will be. That God is using all of this to make me more like Him. How can I be sorry about that?

I read this week that God uses the man who has been deeply broken. I feel pretty broken by my own weaknesses. I am more aware of my inefficiencies than ever before. And in them I am glad, because now I get to boast in Him. Come on, say it with me. You knew it was coming. (It's coming.) Sweet Paul. Oh how I ache for him with his affliction. Don't you just know how he felt? Can't you just identify with is pain? But thank the Lord for that thing that bugged him nearly to death, because I need to feel his pain. And I can't hear him say too many times, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." It's 2nd Corinthians, of course. But oh to hear Paul say, I am CONTENT with it all. I am CONTENT with the heaviness. Oh dear Paul. He really did have it figured out, didn't he? And did you see that list? It wasn't just one thing that had him down. Goodness.

I know some people who have it figured out too. Real life people. I know people who are struggling with afflictions that affect every single thing about their life. And they are sweet, joyful and okay with what they have been given, even though there are constant reminders of their struggles. And I love that person more than I can express. I need to be around people like that more. The ones who will tell you in one breath what they are struggling with is real. And hard. And then they will tell you with the next breath how much they love their Jesus. How they want to know Him more. And the whole time, they are just smiling, as if they are telling you that they found the cutest pair of shoes at Target. That's the joy I want.

So I may not be Fun Amy right now, but let me tell you, I am Deeply Touched by the Master Amy. My God has taken me and split me open to the core. He is disassembling me, and putting me back together to get me ready for what is to come. And He is showing me that now matter how hard this life is, one day, when I see Him face to face, I'll be able to tell Him that it was all worth it. And I'll be able to tell Him that looking forward to seeing His face was all the joy that I ever needed.

God is my co-pilot personal trainer

I beg God to transform me into the image of his Son. I really do. And boy, here lately, has He been answering my prayers. I don't think I can ever recall a time where God has be so relentless with me.

Okay, I really have given up television for the most part. I have some episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Ace of Cakes" that stay on my TiVO for those nights when I'm so mentally and physically exhausted that I just want to lay in bed and watch something benign before I conk out. But God has truly delivered me from my television watching, and I am SO thankful. That time is now spent studying His Word or reading something that will grow me in Him. So thankful for that.

But, every now and then, I see a show that I used to love. "Biggest Loser" is one of them. I just love to see people get themselves healthy. I just do. I don't know why. It inspires me to continue to try to get these last 15 pounds off my rear too. Anyway, one reason I'm glad I don't watch this show anymore is because I've heard how bad the language is with the girl trainer this year. Jillian Michaels is her name. You may have heard me speak about her with great love and affection from my experiences with her video "The 30 Day Shred." Shred being the operative word.

Anyway, if you haven't seen the show, she basically gets in the contestants' faces and screams and curses at them. They start to bawl and then she starts to tell them that they are WORTH it. They are worth being healthy and happy. So on and so on.

Now basically I see the humanistic side of this as being pretty hopeless. If you don't have Christ, you aren't gonna be happy even if you are a size 0. But I see where she is coming from. Now let me assure you that this is also just one of the reasons I won't ever be on that show. Getting in my face and yelling the "F" word is definitely not a way to get me to go another mile on the treadmill. In fact, that's the shortest way to get me through the door. But I'm digressing.

She says, Jillian that is, that you have to strip everything else away to get these people to admit why they are where they are. You have to strip them down, all the way down, to get to build them back up. You have to have them groveling in a mess of sweat and tears before you can pick them up. It ain't pretty to watch. Hard actually. Wondering where I am spiritually? Yep, there it is.

I actually said to God this week, after a spiritual "work out" that He was quickly becoming my own personal Jillian Michaels. Without all the "F" words, of course. I don't mean to equate God and Ms. Michaels at all. Don't misunderstand me. But this, where I have been recently, just about as low and as beat up as you get, looking up at God and said, "NOW, GOD? Now can you let me up? Can you back off for just. a. second?"

And I'm not sure I really want Him to, but oh my gosh. I am also not sure how much more you can tear it up on the spiritual tread mill before you collapse. I know God needs me torn down so He can build me back up in HIS image. It's just the whole process is hard. I imagine that just like those "Biggest Loser" contestants feel like a million dollars when they slip on their size 4 jeans, when I get through this part of my spiritual training, I'm gonna feel great.

Right now, I feel like I really need to get off that tread mill. Want to pray for me? Pray for endurance. My timer on my treadmill is no where near close to going off...

matchless beauty. endless light.