Sunday, October 31, 2010

Skinny Jeans Are Not Bread...

...in case you were wondering.

Neither are "likes" on your Facebook status, new shoes, or good hair days, for that matter.

Recently spent an evening with a precious group of girlfriends, reflecting on Scripture and life and then praying together. Much of the conversation centered on being satisfied in God, and I drank in from the wisdom and honesty of others present.

One friend's story stuck with me in particular. She told of being on the way home from work one day when she was struck by an overwhelming urge to buy a pair of skinny jeans. Right then. In the space of a few minutes, she'd transformed from a self-described non-shopper to a woman on a mission. She mentally mapped out shopping possibilities and re-routed herself, plotting and planning her acquisition.

As she pulled into the Opitz Outlet parking lot, a song by Jill Phillips came on the radio. The beginning lyrics arrested her attention:

"O gently lay your head/ upon My chest/ and I will comfort you like a mother while you rest."

In an instant, she recognized her true hunger. It had been a tough day -and week- and she was craving comfort, relief from the load of anxieties and stresses she'd shouldered all day long. What she wanted was exactly what the song described: to rest her head on a faithful Father, soak in His perfect understanding, and know that because of Him, she would not be crushed by all of the situations she could neither remove nor solve.

Regardless of your take on skinny jeans, I think we can agree that no pair of jeans is cut out for THAT task.

As a tag-along to that story, another girl read from Isaiah 55:

Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
And delight yourself in abundance.

Isaiah 55:2

In a loose paraphrase: Why do you spend your energy chasing down temporary, visible things to satisfy the invisible needs of your heart?

Oh, do I relate. When I'm honest, I recognize these misplaced expectations as a source of familiar frustration. I've done my share of chasing, whether by shopping or performing or re-reading my blog comments (hint, hint). Getting a pat on the back from my boss or hearing an affirming word from a friend or finding orange leather ballet flats for five dollars (true story!) -- well, none of these is bad, exactly.

That is, unless I'm hoping that receiving them will somehow silence my inner cries for satisfaction and affirmation. When that's the case, deep disappointment inevitably follows even the sweetest gifts.

I sometimes respond to those deeper desires in the same way I deal with hunger after a long day at work: I stand in the kitchen and eat whatever's out on the counter while I pretend to find something to cook...until my appetite has been dulled and I can go on my way. Give me half a bag of chips or a pack of cookies, and I'll momentarily forget my need for a balanced meal.

But just as my body needs that nourishing meal, my soul needs time where I'm listening to God speak to my truest, neediest self. I can crunch away at fleeting reassurances (work a little longer, fish for another compliment, look in the mirror once again), but I'm still hungry (and a bit sick) down the line.

My soul wants bread, and skinny jeans –or anything else I might pursue- just won't cut it.

"Jesus said to them, 'I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst." John 6:35

"Satisfy us in the morning with Your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days." Psalm 90:14

Postscript: This post by Genevieve Thul is worth your time -- about prioritizing and consuming God's Word as the only thing that will satisfy. Read it!

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Can't Argue With That

Our chapel theme last week was "God is the sovereign creator of all things." To illustrate the point that creation reveals the nature of its Creator, I brought out a drawing that I'd done with my pastels earlier in the week. I'd taken a little drawing time after school one day, and I was pleased with the result. The picture communicated that I still possess some artistic talent.

I was compelled to explain, however, that in my case, my creation also reveals my limitations. Having had no training with pastels and little practice, my technique is poor at best. "This picture shows you a little of what I can do with pastels. There are a lot of things I can't do with pastels, though."

"Yeah," piped up a third grader. "like, you can't brush your teeth with pastels."

True. Not what I was attempting to communicate, but so true.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Not That We Don't Love Cookies

Taylor was antsy all Thursday, knowing that his grandparents were coming to visit sometime that afternoon. At his request, Grandma was bringing cookies.

Unfortunately, the cookies and grandparents showed up just as we were beginning our independent writing time. I expected to cut writing short, but Taylor -at the beginning, my most reluctant writer- surprised me.

From his cozy workspace under a table, he looked up at Grandma and said, "Um, can you come back later? I'm busy writing right now."

I think I managed to control my facial expression, but I was doing internal fist pumps like crazy.