Tensions.
Sep 17
Sep 8
I was introduced to ‘Da Jesus Book‘ this week. It’s a translation of the Bible into ‘Hawaii Pidgin’ dialect. I find it amazing that there are people who spend their entire adult lives immersed in culture and language so the Bible can be translated.
So anyway…. my favorite verse (John 10:10) in Hawaii Pidgin:
Da steala guy, he ony come fo steal, kill, and bus up da place. But I wen come so da peopo can come alive inside, an live to da max.
So… this day… go live to da max.
‘The Boy Who Changed the World’ by Andy Andrews, illustrated by Philip Hurst, is an engaging book written for children but destined to be a favorite of adult readers as well. Andrews weaves together the true stories of four boys to illustrate the Butterfly Effect, which, in its simplest form, says that what we do matters.
The story begins with young Norman Bourlag playing in his family’s cornfields. Norman grows up to develop a new kind of seed to grow plants that feed billions of people. Norman changes the world.
But Andrews’ skillful writing reveals that Norman didn’t do this all by himself; his story is intertwined with the stories of others… and thus we are off on a charming ride of childhood inquisitiveness and grown-up determination.
Andrews’ tale speaks to all of us about how we affect each others’ lives. There is great value in using the things we love to help other people. And anyone, no matter how small, can change the entire world.
This book goes on my list of favorite childrens’ books and will likely find it’s way into the hands of the people I love the most.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a review copy of this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
I’ve been working hard at really trying to listen to God’s voice.
I’m not good at this.
Seriously. I know that God can speak any way he wants. I know it’s not confined to me sitting by myself with a journal in a meditative-y sort of mood. I know God speaks through people, through nature, through the experience of driving on a busy highway. But I also know I need there to be times of silence in solitude, and I need to ask the question “what are you saying?” And I need to keep my mind quieted for the answer.
Did I mention? I am not good at this.
God, how can I serve you and really love other people today?
(ouch my foot hurts. wonder if that’s from…. wait, I didn’t actually DO anything yesterday to my foot. Wow I was such a slug, actually. I really need to get into the habit of exercising. Did I remember to send that permission slip to school? Dang it. I forgot to talk to so-and-so about what we’re going to do for communion 3 Sundays from now. I really wish someone else could make those arrangements now and then. It would be so great to have a couple of Sundays off. What kind of job would I want if I didn’t have this one? But no, wait, I know… this was a ‘calling’. I can’t ignore that. God called me to….ohhh no… )
God, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how you can stand it! Please help me listen to you and quiet my own frantic voice! ugh……
This is what happens when I attempt to really tune in to what God might be saying. Over and over. So every day I try to put my own whirly brain-voice in the ‘time out chair’ to allow God’s voice to be heard. I know from experience that when I stick with this, it gets easier over time. I am more tuned in to what God is saying and what He’s doing throughout the day. Just like any discipline, it’s this first stage that is killer.
So I’m sticking it out and I’m forcing myself to quiet down. And I’m listening. Perhaps I’ll tell you sometime what I hear….
Aug 27
I’m currently reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan. It’s very good, and it’s making me be honest with myself about a few things. This isn’t easy, but it’s good and necessary.
In the book, Chan quotes George Bernard Shaw:
“This is true joy in life, the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.”
I don’t want to be a feverish, selfish little clod. But I know I am sometimes because I totally get that description.
I think the hard part, besides the inertia of our clod-ness, is making sure we’ve found something that we recognize to be a ‘mighty purpose’.
Have you found such a purpose?
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