The Gift

I want you to picture someone who loves you more than anyone else in the whole wide world.  Close your eyes and think about that person. Get a good feel for their face.  They are smiling at you with tenderness and affection.  Their eyes are fixed on you.  They are walking towards you slowly and deliberately with a gift.  With outstretched hands, they are holding this gift out to you.  It is beautifully and carefully wrapped with a large ribbon surrounding the package, fastened in place with a large bow on top of the box.  They are standing now with their gift extended out to you.  All that is required of you is to take it.  I want you to sit with that thought in your mind for just a minute.  Does it make you feel good to think about? 

It's not your birthday, it's not Christmas.  The present is simply because they love you and they want you to know how much.  You did nothing to deserve it at all, they just want to give it to you. They want to experience the joy in seeing you unwrap your special gift.  

You have to reach out for the box in order to unwrap it, don't you?  You need to take it from their hands.  The gift is not the wrapping of course, although it is pretty to look at.  You could stand there with your loved one and just take in the moment but sooner or later you have to take your present from their hands.  It really isn't yours until you receive it.  What is it like to unwrap a special present?  Do you get excited?  Do you thank the giver?  Do you tear open the package with urgent anticipation?

I want you to picture again that loving smile with the gift out in front of you, waiting for you to take it.  Now I want you to focus on their face while you look into their eyes and slap the gift out of their hands, sending it to the floor.  I want you to conjure up that feeling you get just before you send something flying.  Next I want you to envision pushing them to the floor.  What do you think the look on their face would be now? 
What would their reaction be?  Do you think they would be hurt?  What did they do to deserve such treatment? 

Quite a colorful exercise.  The only reason for their wanting to give was simply out of love for you and to see the joy that comes when you receive.  Why would you send their present hurling and them to the floor in rejection?  Do people actually do things like that?  You'd probably think that someone was crazy for doing something so cruel. 

People do it every day.  On any given hour, thousands and thousands of people will stand in front of the One who loves them more than anyone ever will.  They will see Him standing there with outstretched hands, the most precious gift they could ever receive and they it away like it was garbage.  They will tell Him that His present is foolish, stupid and not worth opening.  He will say, "I love you" and they will laugh in His face. 

The next time He comes to you with His gift, I'd like you to ask yourself what the risk is in just simply receiving it. 

God's Macaroni Necklace

"Here, Mama!"

She shoved a rattling string of wooden beads in my face with a beaming smile and gripping fist.  Her eyes danced with pride as she waiting for my reaction. 

"Oh, Honey!  It's absolutely beautiful! Did you make this for me?"

"Uh huh!"

I reached for the necklace and she released her clutch, dropping it into my open hands.  A long necklace of beads and painted wood butterflies as big as silver dollars lay in a pile before me in my palms.  The ornaments were polka-dotted and colored in every bright pastel hue you can think of.  She waited beside me as I stood up to put it over my head and glance into the mirror over the buffet in my dining room.  It looked more like a lei than a necklace.  I smoothed my hands over the butterflies.

"It's really nice, Honey!"

"Are you go to wear it to church?"

I am team teaching a bible study on Tuesday mornings until January.  We were readying ourselves to head out the door when she handed me my surprise.  I hadn't considered that a lei of clanking butterflies would be perfect with my carefully selected outfit. 

"Oh, um.  Well, of course. Yes, I will wear it to church."

I left it on and hoped that I would remember to remove it after I dropped my daughter off at the babysitting room in the building but I forgot about it in the chaos of setting my stuff down on a table and trying to find the child care provider so I could leave Carli to play.  I finally got her settled so I could set up for the lcass when I found one of my teachmates in the study room.  We were reviewing what the morning would be like when I noticed that she kept glancing at my blouse.  It took about 4 times for me to get what was distracting her.  It was my butterflies.  I grasped the beads when I figured it out, chuckled and told her about my gift that morning.  We had a laugh and she went on to tell me about a scarf that her daughter had knit for her in junior high school.

"You don't know how many mornings I'd leave that on just long enough to head out the door and into my car to change into another one."

"I forgot about my necklace.  I didn't want to hurt Carli's feelings."

As I said that I started thinking about what would happen if I'd made a macaroni necklace for God.  I remembered making one for my mom when I was in Kindergarten.  It was an elbow and penne macaroni necklace that was spray painted silver by the teacher.  I was so proud of that necklace.  I couldn't wait for her to wear it.  I am sure she had many of the same thoughts I had about my butterfly one. 

Compared to God's gifts to us, our gifts to Him are like macaroni necklaces.  His gifts are perfect, valuable and hand selected for us.  Our gifts are primitive, easily duplicated and sometimes clumsy.  He loves everyone.  He delights in our efforts to love Him back, just like we do with our children.  His love is perfect though.  I believe He does wear our macaroni necklaces with great pride.  I believe He is eager to show them off to the angels and say, "Look, see what my precious one made for me today."

Standing True

Hatred.  The word is like a punch in the face.  The very diction has a poignant hiss.  When I've heard the word said, I notice that there seems to be well placed emphasis on the sound of the first letter.  It's like the speaker wants to you to listen up and take notice of what's coming.  No one ever asks what it means.  It always leaves me with a slimy feeling in my spirit to hear the word spoken.

I've been on both sides of the fence.  Lately, it's me feeling the sting.  Not an overwhelming blow that takes you out in one round but a constant stream of short little snaps.  Just when you think that last one stopped smarting it comes again. Snap!  I wish it would stop but it's not going to.  It might even get worse.  You see, I've lived my life pretty harmoniously with most people all my life.  I wanted to blend, fit in.  Sure, I had this thing that I knew deep down inside me.  I told a few people about it and they promised not to judge.  They seemed to be fine with it as long as I never talked about it. I would make them feel uncomfortable, they claimed.  By seeking to win their approval, I agreed.  I could try to live a normal life and forget about what I knew about me.  That nagging, that longing to just be me.  I hid it for so long.  I thought, no one would like me if they knew and once you make a statement like that publicly, well you'd better start living up to it.  No, best not to rock the boat. Besides, what would people think?

The truth about me almost got forgotten for a little while.  I did such a good job of blending in that I even forgot what I knew about me.  You can get good at keeping secrets for a while. Some lies can go on for so long that even you can start to believe them.  Then I thought, I could live two lives.  Lots of people do it.  There could be the me that everyone sees and then the me that only certain people see.  I could do that.  What would it hurt?  It would be better than just keeping it all inside.  I could have my little outlet and then I could go back to the me that the world sees and everyone would be happy, except me.  What if the little crowd of people who knew the real me saw me out with the rest of the world acting like them?  What would I say?  Could I tell my little crowd who I was on the outside?  Certainly not.  They would be upset with me. They'd tell me that I really wasn't like them if I had to hide so I just kept the outside me to myself with my little crowd and hoped that the two would never mix.  I thought it would be easy but it started getting really complicated. 

There came a day of reckoning between the two.  I decided that I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not. I was tired of feeling ashamed of living two lives and never feeling complete.  It's funny, when you have a day like that you all of the sudden don't care what people think any more.  You just want to be you.  You don't care who knows you or what they say about you. You just want to be you and have everyone love you for who you are or go away quietly. 

I tell everyone about who I am now.  I am freer than I've ever been. I've never known joy and peace like I do now.  I am loved, wanted, secure and protected.  I am whole now.  It isn't without it's price though.  I had plenty of friends, family even, who told me they loved me for who I am.  I believed them. I believe that they almost think that it's true, but they don't.  They tell me they accept who I am but then go on and make fun of people just like me.  They make jokes, post cartoons making fun of who I am.  They criticize what I stand for and what I love about who I am.  They tell me that I am okay, it is just the others like me that they don't like.  Why am I special?  Snap!  It stings.  Every mention, sneer, jab, joke, sarcastic comment hurts a little at a time.  Snap!  I try to stand up for myself and all I get is that they are sorry to offend but they don't stop. They want people like me to feel bad about who we are. It's not right, it's not fair but if I want to stand true I am going to have to take a few hits.  It's worth it.  Being content with who I am is a great payment for the pain. 

People who claim that I'm a hater are the ones who hurl the worse things at me. No one wants to have parades to make me feel good about my life decision.  You can say whatever you want about me but make sure you get it right when you call me names.  I am not a bible thumper, a holy roller or a religious nut.  I am a Jesus Freak and I'm proud.