I wrote today,
but I thought it belonged over on
so that's where I put it.
Here's a link if you're interested.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Hamartia
Hamartia is the tragic or fatal flaw in a hero that leads to his downfall.
I learned this last year when I was trying to teach English to 7th, 9th and 10th graders. I also learned about Gilgamesh, which I had never read before, having been an English major with classes only in British and American literature, and one class of Russian literature. I mostly took creative writing workshops, as many as possible.
I was a terrible English teacher. It was a good experience; it put to rest forever my regrets over not having completed a degree in education. There was a time when I would visit my kids' schools on back-to-school night and walk through the halls thinking, "This feels so good. So familiar. This is where I belong." But when I became a teacher all I could remember is how I was the mother who cried on the first day of school, every year, and I was the mother who stomped her feet and complained every day for the last two weeks of school in June, saying, "When is this going to be over already? When can we get on to summer vacation?" I lived for summer vacation, for days with no alarm clocks, no buses to catch and no homework projects to complete. How could I ever have thought I would like being a teacher?
I am rambling.
Hamartia has probably come to mind because I am recuperating from surgery, an intensely boring endeavor, and I have nothing to do but lie in bed, staring out the uncovered arch at the top of my bedroom window at the clear blue winter sky, smelling the stench of my healing body which is alternately too hot or too cold under the rumpled sheets and blankets on my bed. I read a little and get tired. I poke at my phone, but it is quiet because the rest of the world is busy with Christmas and year-end budgets and finals. I feel like the only person in the world with nothing to do except force liquids and remember my pain pills. It is a real high point when I take a shower. I save this triumph for afternoon.
It's so strange to have no Christmas concerts to go to, no Christmas party invitations, no choir cantatas or church Christmas pageants to work on, no kids digging through the costume box in the basement for the Santa hat. I miss everything. But I suppose, really, it was an ideal year to have this surgery. When you think about it.
With so much time on my hands--or maybe I should say on my back, as that is how I lie, carefully symmetrical, hoping that everything will fall into its proper new location as the healing goes forward--with so much time, I tend to think. I am sorry, but there really is not much else to do. Thinking too much can be a dangerous occupation, or perhaps it is beneficial.
I've been thinking about my flaws. Hence, hamartia; not that I am a hero, or even a heroine. And I hope and pray that by the grace of God my flaws will not lead to my eventual downfall, that He will save me as He promises in Jude 24-25.
One of my flaws is in method of communication, especially in the role of mother.
Being a mother is such a huge, overwhelming responsibility. These people come into your life, and you are responsible for them, their bodies, their minds and their souls. More than anything, you want them to know Jesus, and to go to heaven, and to avoid sin and its dire consequences. But you also want them to be healthy and happy and free from trials and troubles, well fed and well clothed, things that sometimes don't mesh perfectly with your goals for them to be holy and God-focused. Imperfect as a mother is, she wants the best for her children, ferociously sometimes. If something is wrong in one of her children's lives, she lies awake all night beseeching God to intervene, and she spends her daylight hours trying do something, anything, racking her brain, combing the internet, making phone calls, whatever she can do.
In the crucible of excessive caring, a mother can go too far. My own mother, not so many years ago, stood in front of us in her kitchen, a tiny woman with stooped shoulders and perfect back-combed hair. She said to my sister and me, "I was so hard on you kids. Too hard, I know. But you have to understand. I wanted so badly for you to be good people." Her eyes were blurry. We are not an emotional family. We do not cry or hug much. I wanted to tell her, "I know. I didn't understand then, but I know now. I have kids of my own. It's ok. I know." But it seemed kinder to smile and joke a little, to offer some levity, to say, "And look at how great we turned out!" while deftly changing the subject.
My problem is in serving up truth too harshly. You would think that by now, with the youngest 18, I would have figured out that truth can't be received if you present it badly. It's like vegetables. Straight up, they can gag you, but if you get the right cheese sauce and crouton topping, everybody loves them. One of my children, the one who likes vegetables plain and disdains nutritionally deficient sauces, has inherited my trait of blasting people over the head with truth without regard for their feelings. "It's the truth after all. You should be thankful for the truth; you need to know the truth. I wouldn't be bothering to tell you the truth if I didn't love you." This may seem sensible to the speaker of the truth, but the person receiving it is almost always too traumatized to swallow. I have some of those kinds of kids, too.
Ephesians 4:15 tells us to speak the truth in love. There is not one, prescripted, correct way to do this. We should make every effort to be gentle and kind (something I cannot claim to have mastered). Still, sometimes the truth hurts, and there will be no way to avoid pain altogether, but because of love, something must be said. Sometimes you can be soft, and sometimes you need to be tough. There is such a thing as tough love. It all requires so much wisdom, and many of us are out there flailing around, erring on one side or the other.
My hang up is: what do you do if you speak the truth harshly, and damage your child? As the mother, the parent, the responsible one, what do you do? How do you apologize for your delivery without deconstructing the truth along with it?
I remember more than once going to my children and saying, "I am so sorry I lost my temper like that. I was mean, and scary, and I should not have yelled so angrily. But I do need you to know that what you did was wrong. Even though I responded in a bad way, you still need to learn not to do that thing I got so upset about." I would say this, and they would look at me, and nod with teary eyes, and I never knew if we were getting anywhere at all. Did they just hear it as "I'm sorry, but...?" Was it, indeed, a fatal flaw?
The trouble with life is that you don't get a practice run. You just get plopped down in the middle of reality, and you have to make your best go of it.
That is what makes the grace of God so precious. Fatal means deathly; a fatal flaw is a flaw that leads to death. But Jesus came to give us life and grace. I cannot count the times, as a younger mother, I ran to my bedroom and threw myself face-first on my bed, weeping, asking Jesus to cover over my tragic errors in child rearing with His perfect grace.
"...as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." ~Romans 5:21 (ESV)
There is no hamartia where there is hope. And there is always hope in Jesus.
I learned this last year when I was trying to teach English to 7th, 9th and 10th graders. I also learned about Gilgamesh, which I had never read before, having been an English major with classes only in British and American literature, and one class of Russian literature. I mostly took creative writing workshops, as many as possible.
I was a terrible English teacher. It was a good experience; it put to rest forever my regrets over not having completed a degree in education. There was a time when I would visit my kids' schools on back-to-school night and walk through the halls thinking, "This feels so good. So familiar. This is where I belong." But when I became a teacher all I could remember is how I was the mother who cried on the first day of school, every year, and I was the mother who stomped her feet and complained every day for the last two weeks of school in June, saying, "When is this going to be over already? When can we get on to summer vacation?" I lived for summer vacation, for days with no alarm clocks, no buses to catch and no homework projects to complete. How could I ever have thought I would like being a teacher?
I am rambling.
Hamartia has probably come to mind because I am recuperating from surgery, an intensely boring endeavor, and I have nothing to do but lie in bed, staring out the uncovered arch at the top of my bedroom window at the clear blue winter sky, smelling the stench of my healing body which is alternately too hot or too cold under the rumpled sheets and blankets on my bed. I read a little and get tired. I poke at my phone, but it is quiet because the rest of the world is busy with Christmas and year-end budgets and finals. I feel like the only person in the world with nothing to do except force liquids and remember my pain pills. It is a real high point when I take a shower. I save this triumph for afternoon.
It's so strange to have no Christmas concerts to go to, no Christmas party invitations, no choir cantatas or church Christmas pageants to work on, no kids digging through the costume box in the basement for the Santa hat. I miss everything. But I suppose, really, it was an ideal year to have this surgery. When you think about it.
With so much time on my hands--or maybe I should say on my back, as that is how I lie, carefully symmetrical, hoping that everything will fall into its proper new location as the healing goes forward--with so much time, I tend to think. I am sorry, but there really is not much else to do. Thinking too much can be a dangerous occupation, or perhaps it is beneficial.
I've been thinking about my flaws. Hence, hamartia; not that I am a hero, or even a heroine. And I hope and pray that by the grace of God my flaws will not lead to my eventual downfall, that He will save me as He promises in Jude 24-25.
One of my flaws is in method of communication, especially in the role of mother.
Being a mother is such a huge, overwhelming responsibility. These people come into your life, and you are responsible for them, their bodies, their minds and their souls. More than anything, you want them to know Jesus, and to go to heaven, and to avoid sin and its dire consequences. But you also want them to be healthy and happy and free from trials and troubles, well fed and well clothed, things that sometimes don't mesh perfectly with your goals for them to be holy and God-focused. Imperfect as a mother is, she wants the best for her children, ferociously sometimes. If something is wrong in one of her children's lives, she lies awake all night beseeching God to intervene, and she spends her daylight hours trying do something, anything, racking her brain, combing the internet, making phone calls, whatever she can do.
In the crucible of excessive caring, a mother can go too far. My own mother, not so many years ago, stood in front of us in her kitchen, a tiny woman with stooped shoulders and perfect back-combed hair. She said to my sister and me, "I was so hard on you kids. Too hard, I know. But you have to understand. I wanted so badly for you to be good people." Her eyes were blurry. We are not an emotional family. We do not cry or hug much. I wanted to tell her, "I know. I didn't understand then, but I know now. I have kids of my own. It's ok. I know." But it seemed kinder to smile and joke a little, to offer some levity, to say, "And look at how great we turned out!" while deftly changing the subject.
My problem is in serving up truth too harshly. You would think that by now, with the youngest 18, I would have figured out that truth can't be received if you present it badly. It's like vegetables. Straight up, they can gag you, but if you get the right cheese sauce and crouton topping, everybody loves them. One of my children, the one who likes vegetables plain and disdains nutritionally deficient sauces, has inherited my trait of blasting people over the head with truth without regard for their feelings. "It's the truth after all. You should be thankful for the truth; you need to know the truth. I wouldn't be bothering to tell you the truth if I didn't love you." This may seem sensible to the speaker of the truth, but the person receiving it is almost always too traumatized to swallow. I have some of those kinds of kids, too.
Ephesians 4:15 tells us to speak the truth in love. There is not one, prescripted, correct way to do this. We should make every effort to be gentle and kind (something I cannot claim to have mastered). Still, sometimes the truth hurts, and there will be no way to avoid pain altogether, but because of love, something must be said. Sometimes you can be soft, and sometimes you need to be tough. There is such a thing as tough love. It all requires so much wisdom, and many of us are out there flailing around, erring on one side or the other.
My hang up is: what do you do if you speak the truth harshly, and damage your child? As the mother, the parent, the responsible one, what do you do? How do you apologize for your delivery without deconstructing the truth along with it?
I remember more than once going to my children and saying, "I am so sorry I lost my temper like that. I was mean, and scary, and I should not have yelled so angrily. But I do need you to know that what you did was wrong. Even though I responded in a bad way, you still need to learn not to do that thing I got so upset about." I would say this, and they would look at me, and nod with teary eyes, and I never knew if we were getting anywhere at all. Did they just hear it as "I'm sorry, but...?" Was it, indeed, a fatal flaw?
The trouble with life is that you don't get a practice run. You just get plopped down in the middle of reality, and you have to make your best go of it.
That is what makes the grace of God so precious. Fatal means deathly; a fatal flaw is a flaw that leads to death. But Jesus came to give us life and grace. I cannot count the times, as a younger mother, I ran to my bedroom and threw myself face-first on my bed, weeping, asking Jesus to cover over my tragic errors in child rearing with His perfect grace.
"...as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." ~Romans 5:21 (ESV)
There is no hamartia where there is hope. And there is always hope in Jesus.
Monday, December 9, 2013
More about forgiveness
I keep coming back to write on forgiveness.
This is not because I am good at forgiveness, accomplished at it. On the contrary, it is because forgiveness is hard, and I find myself struggling to master it again and again.
I wrote old posts on forgiveness here and here. I've also touched on it in other places, like here. You see, I keep having to go back.
An article showed up in my sidebar which was about confession and forgiveness. You can read it by following this link. I read it and thought about it. Please read it and tell me if you agree with what I thought.
I think it is easy to forgive when a person confesses and apologizes the way this article describes a good confession. If someone comes to me with that kind of humility and sorrow and desire to make things right, it is practically impossible not to forgive.
But. Most people don't say they are sorry that way. Most people do what he talks about in #2 of the Seven A's of Confession. They say, "I'm sorry but..." This "but" can water down or wipe out the apology in a myriad of ways. It can justify the thing they did: "I'm sorry, but you just didn't understand my motivation, and I'm sure if you did, you would agree that I really don't need to apologize the way you think I do." It can even throw the origin of the incident onto the shoulders of the hurt one: "I'm sorry, but I would not have done it if you were not such a bad person, pushing me into it in the first place."
Most apologies are imperfect and incomplete. Some of them are imaginary, the ones where someone claims to have said he was sorry when he didn't (and he does not offer to say it again, because it was your responsibility to notice it the first time, buried though it was in words other than "I'm sorry," and surrounded by accusation and anger).
In the article, the writer says a profound thing. He says, "Full confessions enable full reconciliation."
This is so true. When a person confesses as described in the Seven A's of Confessions, when he avoids qualifying his apology, bravely admits specifically what he did wrong, when he exhibits compassion and concern for your feelings and acknowledges that he understands how he hurt you, and when he proceeds to demonstrate a change of heart through a change of behavior, full reconciliation can easily flow forth.
It is sad to me that so many people would rather grasp threads of something that they think preserves their pride instead of seeking to reach reconciliation. Sometimes I think people get the idea that, "If I don't admit I did it, then I didn't really do it, and I am not such a bad person then." The opposite is true, of course. Everyone knows that the hurt is there, and it is only when the hurt is acknowledged and confessed that it can truly fade away. In every other case it remains a shadow, sometimes a soft shadow, sometimes a harsh one, but a shadow over the relationship that can only fully disappear in the light of a full confession.
So how does one forgive in the meantime? Because one must forgive, or be eaten away by the weight of unforgiveness.
One forgives and one hopes. One works consciously to avoid bearing a grudge, despite the shadow that exists. One purposes to behave well, graciously, despite the shadows. And one prays for the full restoration that will come if ever a true confession is offered. One smiles when one does not feel like smiling, and one gives when one does not feel like giving. One remembers one's own failings and is humble-hearted towards the offender.
We must recognize that we cannot control the restoration part of forgiveness. Even God does not restore His relationship with fallen man without fallen man's confession of sin.
Restoration comes after confession. Forgiveness is the hope that restoration will happen and the constant, unconditional willingness to respond to a confession with grace, with thanks, with love, if ever the confession is offered.
This is how God forgives us, and it is how we must forgive one another. It is not easy, but it is good.
[note: I use the singular pronoun "he" in my writing not to allude to any specific person, but because I was raised on good old-fashioned grammar and cannot bring myself to substitute "they" where a singular pronoun is indicated. I could have alternated "he" with "she" to be politically correct, but I find that distracting and cumbersome.]
This is not because I am good at forgiveness, accomplished at it. On the contrary, it is because forgiveness is hard, and I find myself struggling to master it again and again.
I wrote old posts on forgiveness here and here. I've also touched on it in other places, like here. You see, I keep having to go back.
An article showed up in my sidebar which was about confession and forgiveness. You can read it by following this link. I read it and thought about it. Please read it and tell me if you agree with what I thought.
I think it is easy to forgive when a person confesses and apologizes the way this article describes a good confession. If someone comes to me with that kind of humility and sorrow and desire to make things right, it is practically impossible not to forgive.
But. Most people don't say they are sorry that way. Most people do what he talks about in #2 of the Seven A's of Confession. They say, "I'm sorry but..." This "but" can water down or wipe out the apology in a myriad of ways. It can justify the thing they did: "I'm sorry, but you just didn't understand my motivation, and I'm sure if you did, you would agree that I really don't need to apologize the way you think I do." It can even throw the origin of the incident onto the shoulders of the hurt one: "I'm sorry, but I would not have done it if you were not such a bad person, pushing me into it in the first place."
Most apologies are imperfect and incomplete. Some of them are imaginary, the ones where someone claims to have said he was sorry when he didn't (and he does not offer to say it again, because it was your responsibility to notice it the first time, buried though it was in words other than "I'm sorry," and surrounded by accusation and anger).
In the article, the writer says a profound thing. He says, "Full confessions enable full reconciliation."
This is so true. When a person confesses as described in the Seven A's of Confessions, when he avoids qualifying his apology, bravely admits specifically what he did wrong, when he exhibits compassion and concern for your feelings and acknowledges that he understands how he hurt you, and when he proceeds to demonstrate a change of heart through a change of behavior, full reconciliation can easily flow forth.
It is sad to me that so many people would rather grasp threads of something that they think preserves their pride instead of seeking to reach reconciliation. Sometimes I think people get the idea that, "If I don't admit I did it, then I didn't really do it, and I am not such a bad person then." The opposite is true, of course. Everyone knows that the hurt is there, and it is only when the hurt is acknowledged and confessed that it can truly fade away. In every other case it remains a shadow, sometimes a soft shadow, sometimes a harsh one, but a shadow over the relationship that can only fully disappear in the light of a full confession.
So how does one forgive in the meantime? Because one must forgive, or be eaten away by the weight of unforgiveness.
One forgives and one hopes. One works consciously to avoid bearing a grudge, despite the shadow that exists. One purposes to behave well, graciously, despite the shadows. And one prays for the full restoration that will come if ever a true confession is offered. One smiles when one does not feel like smiling, and one gives when one does not feel like giving. One remembers one's own failings and is humble-hearted towards the offender.
We must recognize that we cannot control the restoration part of forgiveness. Even God does not restore His relationship with fallen man without fallen man's confession of sin.
Restoration comes after confession. Forgiveness is the hope that restoration will happen and the constant, unconditional willingness to respond to a confession with grace, with thanks, with love, if ever the confession is offered.
This is how God forgives us, and it is how we must forgive one another. It is not easy, but it is good.
[note: I use the singular pronoun "he" in my writing not to allude to any specific person, but because I was raised on good old-fashioned grammar and cannot bring myself to substitute "they" where a singular pronoun is indicated. I could have alternated "he" with "she" to be politically correct, but I find that distracting and cumbersome.]
Saturday, December 7, 2013
a little surgery for Christmas.
It seems that everyone is writing about Christmas, how they do Christmas, what their special traditions are, what makes their Christmases special.
I am so bad at Christmas that my third child's favorite holiday is the Fourth of July.
This year, on December 5, when everyone else was putting the final sparkly touches on their Christmas trees and printing up their Christmas letters, I went to the hospital and had my womb cut out.
The doctor told me, "The Christmas tree and the decorations and all that... you just let somebody else take care of all that this year." Except. There isn't anybody else. I mean, there's Shawn, and I love him, but he can't do Christmas by himself while holding down a job and taking care of me. Seriously. I am one pain of a patient. I whine like a three-year-old. "I don't want to eat. I'm not comfortable. I don't know if I took my pain medicine or not. I don't like this... it's not my favorite." Poor Shawn.
And there really is not anybody else. We don't belong to the community yet, and our children have all moved away. I think I know where the boxes of decorations are since the move, but I don't know what to do about it.
Shawn went to an abbreviated portion of his company Christmas party tonight, and then to the store to procure necessities, while I stayed home in bed and watched the sky get dark. There are points in life when a person feels very alone.
BUT. Shannon says she's going to come home and make Christmas cookies, so the pastries will be excellent.
I thought I might get a chance to do some good writing while I rested and healed, but I'm finding my attitude very lacking.
Nevertheless, we will have a tree and cookies by December 25. And we might even leave the tree up until almost the end of January. That's usually how I do it, anyway.
I am so bad at Christmas that my third child's favorite holiday is the Fourth of July.
This year, on December 5, when everyone else was putting the final sparkly touches on their Christmas trees and printing up their Christmas letters, I went to the hospital and had my womb cut out.
The doctor told me, "The Christmas tree and the decorations and all that... you just let somebody else take care of all that this year." Except. There isn't anybody else. I mean, there's Shawn, and I love him, but he can't do Christmas by himself while holding down a job and taking care of me. Seriously. I am one pain of a patient. I whine like a three-year-old. "I don't want to eat. I'm not comfortable. I don't know if I took my pain medicine or not. I don't like this... it's not my favorite." Poor Shawn.
And there really is not anybody else. We don't belong to the community yet, and our children have all moved away. I think I know where the boxes of decorations are since the move, but I don't know what to do about it.
Shawn went to an abbreviated portion of his company Christmas party tonight, and then to the store to procure necessities, while I stayed home in bed and watched the sky get dark. There are points in life when a person feels very alone.
BUT. Shannon says she's going to come home and make Christmas cookies, so the pastries will be excellent.
I thought I might get a chance to do some good writing while I rested and healed, but I'm finding my attitude very lacking.
Nevertheless, we will have a tree and cookies by December 25. And we might even leave the tree up until almost the end of January. That's usually how I do it, anyway.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Word etymology
So the other day, my husband asks me, "What do you think is the connection between the words hysteria and hysterectomy?"
Do not even ask why he was thinking about such a thing. Just pray for me. And for him. Yes, pray for both of us. Please.
I told him, "Look it up on the computer. Look under the word etymology, and you will be able to find out."
I've been curious myself, since then, but it was not until today that I finally remembered to follow up on it. I used Dictionary.com (this is my credit to them... not up to MLA standards, but I am not trying to steal any information from anybody).
HYSTERECTOMY is from the Greek word "hystera" which means womb, and the Greek word "ektome" which means a cutting out.
Then I looked up HYSTERIA, which gave me no information. However, it pointed me to the entry for HYSTERICAL where I found that HYSTERICAL comes from the Latin word, "hystericus," which comes from the Greek word "hysterikos" which means of the womb, suffering in the womb, from "hystera," the Greek for womb. Originally, the word HYSTERICAL was defined as a neurotic condition peculiar to women and thought to be caused by a dysfunction of the uterus. The usage of the word HYSTERICAL to mean very funny began around 1939 and comes from the notion of uncontrollable (read: mentally unstable) fits of laughter.
I am not sure whether to take umbrage at this, or whether to accept serenely that unstable emotions and womanly complaints have been associated and connected for hundreds of years.
Do not even ask why he was thinking about such a thing. Just pray for me. And for him. Yes, pray for both of us. Please.
I told him, "Look it up on the computer. Look under the word etymology, and you will be able to find out."
I've been curious myself, since then, but it was not until today that I finally remembered to follow up on it. I used Dictionary.com (this is my credit to them... not up to MLA standards, but I am not trying to steal any information from anybody).
HYSTERECTOMY is from the Greek word "hystera" which means womb, and the Greek word "ektome" which means a cutting out.
Then I looked up HYSTERIA, which gave me no information. However, it pointed me to the entry for HYSTERICAL where I found that HYSTERICAL comes from the Latin word, "hystericus," which comes from the Greek word "hysterikos" which means of the womb, suffering in the womb, from "hystera," the Greek for womb. Originally, the word HYSTERICAL was defined as a neurotic condition peculiar to women and thought to be caused by a dysfunction of the uterus. The usage of the word HYSTERICAL to mean very funny began around 1939 and comes from the notion of uncontrollable (read: mentally unstable) fits of laughter.
I am not sure whether to take umbrage at this, or whether to accept serenely that unstable emotions and womanly complaints have been associated and connected for hundreds of years.
Monday, November 11, 2013
On Beauty (or, finally, the final "Good-bye girls" post)
While shopping in my local Walgreens the other day, I walked past a display of beauty products based on Disney villainesses. What? Because mean beauty is the most powerful beauty?
It reminded me of a slogan I saw pasted on Facebook a few weeks ago: "Today, dress like you're going to meet your worst enemy!" The idea, of course, is that you need to look your best when you enter social combat.
This makes me profoundly sad. I do not believe that God made beauty so that it could be used as a tool to frighten, dominate or intimidate others.
What is true beauty, and how should we seek to achieve beauty in our own, personal appearance?
The Bible says, "Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious." (1 Peter 3:3-4, ESV). That's nice, and certainly true, albeit a bit difficult to apply directly to one's morning routine.
I have been thinking on this topic for a long time, ever since I began the "Good-bye girls" series over two years ago. Because I am not what you'd call a beautiful woman, and I am certainly not stylish, it has taken me this long actually to broach the subject. Of course I am unqualified, but I will try to share three principles of beauty that I think are important.
This has numerous applications, but the most obvious ones are...
(a) You should care for your body respectfully as the temple of God. Be clean, well-groomed and as healthy as possible. Eat wisely, sleep wisely, exercise wisely. Remember that your physical appearance is the first thing anybody ever sees, and if you belong to the Lord, then people's judgments about how you look will be related to their judgments about Christians in general. Be a good testimony to the grace of God by presenting yourself well, but not in such as way as to draw undue attention.
(b) Since, as we mentioned, your physical appearance is the first thing anybody ever sees, craft your appearance with care to help people be drawn to the Lord rather than pushed away from Him. Paramount here is modesty. Be careful to dress in a manner that does not tempt a man to think about sex. You can look very pretty and pleasant without looking like a sexual object, and you should strive for that aim. If in doubt, cover it up.
We already touched on this with modesty. You are being considerate of others' thought lives when you dress modestly. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus told men that they are sinning, committing adultery in their hearts, if they look on a woman and lust after her. You can be considerate of men by not tempting them to this sin by the way you dress.
You are also considerate of others when you dress in a way that makes them feel comfortable. Don't try to outdress everyone when you go to a social event, but don't wear something distractingly casual, either. Have a good idea of what the dress code is for various situations, and dress accordingly. Wear rugged work clothes when you show up to help someone rake his yard, so he doesn't feel guilty for asking you to be hard on your good clothes. Wear something neat, classy and professional when you make a presentation. Wear bright clothing with fun patterns when you will be interacting with children. Wear something special and attractive to honor someone's special occasion.
Keep in mind that how we prepare our physical appearance is a primary way that humans communicate with one another. What you look like says a lot about you. Think about how you look and evaluate what message your appearance conveys.
You can't change your face, but you can wash it and moisturize it! Heavy make-up is often intimidating or offensive, but a light layer of base foundation over less-than-perfect skin can be soothing for people who look at you all day long. Clean, nicely styled hair and well-fitting clothing also put people around you at ease. Wearing expensive, cutting-edge styles may cause people to admire you, but it rarely helps them feel comfortable around you. And if you go out with hair in your eyes, buttons that threaten to burst, or Lycra stretched to translucence, people will be on edge worrying about what will happen next. Take sensible measures to make yourself neat and attractive, and stop there.
Since your appearance automatically communicates a message, use your appearance to communicate kindness, consideration and love.
Although you should certainly dress in a way that is considerate of others, this does not mean that you dress to "please" others.
Once when I was a Bible study teacher, someone from my Bible study kindly sent me an anonymous gift, a beautiful Vera Bradley bag. I rarely (well, probably never) would have splurged to buy such an item for myself, but I was happy and pleased to own something so stylish. However, over time I began to notice that people treated me differently when I carried that bag. I got many, many compliments. Once a woman complimented me and I said, "Oh, it was an anonymous gift..." She responded with astonishment, "A gift? Do you know, that must have cost $75 or more? That is some gift!" Clerks in stores treated me with more respect and deference than I'd ever experienced before. Nurses in doctors' offices asked me what I did for a living (ha!). For a time I enjoyed the feeling, but after awhile it began to bother me that something as silly as a handbag could have such a huge effect on how people treated me.
I tell that story to encourage you not to try to be a people-pleaser, nor to follow all the latest trends and styles primarily for the respect and power it will gain you around others who may not be able to afford what you have chosen to purchase and display.
As you prepare yourself each morning, getting ready to go out and face yet another day, ask yourself these questions:
And. If all else fails, a nice fitting pair of khaki slacks, a navy blue cardigan, neatly brushed and tied back hair, a light coat of foundation and a flicker of mascara is appropriate for almost any situation.
Other posts in this series:
Good-bye, girls--part one,
Good-bye, girls--part two,
Good-bye, girls--part three,
Good-bye, girls--part four.
Good-bye, girls--part five
Good-bye, girls--part six
Good-bye, girls--part seven
It reminded me of a slogan I saw pasted on Facebook a few weeks ago: "Today, dress like you're going to meet your worst enemy!" The idea, of course, is that you need to look your best when you enter social combat.
This makes me profoundly sad. I do not believe that God made beauty so that it could be used as a tool to frighten, dominate or intimidate others.
What is true beauty, and how should we seek to achieve beauty in our own, personal appearance?
The Bible says, "Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious." (1 Peter 3:3-4, ESV). That's nice, and certainly true, albeit a bit difficult to apply directly to one's morning routine.
I have been thinking on this topic for a long time, ever since I began the "Good-bye girls" series over two years ago. Because I am not what you'd call a beautiful woman, and I am certainly not stylish, it has taken me this long actually to broach the subject. Of course I am unqualified, but I will try to share three principles of beauty that I think are important.
(1)
You should strive to bring glory to God through your appearance, because the Bible tells us that whatever we do, we should do it all to the glory of God.
(1 Corinthians 10:31)
This has numerous applications, but the most obvious ones are...
(a) You should care for your body respectfully as the temple of God. Be clean, well-groomed and as healthy as possible. Eat wisely, sleep wisely, exercise wisely. Remember that your physical appearance is the first thing anybody ever sees, and if you belong to the Lord, then people's judgments about how you look will be related to their judgments about Christians in general. Be a good testimony to the grace of God by presenting yourself well, but not in such as way as to draw undue attention.
(b) Since, as we mentioned, your physical appearance is the first thing anybody ever sees, craft your appearance with care to help people be drawn to the Lord rather than pushed away from Him. Paramount here is modesty. Be careful to dress in a manner that does not tempt a man to think about sex. You can look very pretty and pleasant without looking like a sexual object, and you should strive for that aim. If in doubt, cover it up.
(2)
You should be considerate of others when preparing your appearance.
We already touched on this with modesty. You are being considerate of others' thought lives when you dress modestly. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus told men that they are sinning, committing adultery in their hearts, if they look on a woman and lust after her. You can be considerate of men by not tempting them to this sin by the way you dress.
You are also considerate of others when you dress in a way that makes them feel comfortable. Don't try to outdress everyone when you go to a social event, but don't wear something distractingly casual, either. Have a good idea of what the dress code is for various situations, and dress accordingly. Wear rugged work clothes when you show up to help someone rake his yard, so he doesn't feel guilty for asking you to be hard on your good clothes. Wear something neat, classy and professional when you make a presentation. Wear bright clothing with fun patterns when you will be interacting with children. Wear something special and attractive to honor someone's special occasion.
Keep in mind that how we prepare our physical appearance is a primary way that humans communicate with one another. What you look like says a lot about you. Think about how you look and evaluate what message your appearance conveys.
You can't change your face, but you can wash it and moisturize it! Heavy make-up is often intimidating or offensive, but a light layer of base foundation over less-than-perfect skin can be soothing for people who look at you all day long. Clean, nicely styled hair and well-fitting clothing also put people around you at ease. Wearing expensive, cutting-edge styles may cause people to admire you, but it rarely helps them feel comfortable around you. And if you go out with hair in your eyes, buttons that threaten to burst, or Lycra stretched to translucence, people will be on edge worrying about what will happen next. Take sensible measures to make yourself neat and attractive, and stop there.
Since your appearance automatically communicates a message, use your appearance to communicate kindness, consideration and love.
(3)
Do not allow others' opinions
to dictate your style.
Although you should certainly dress in a way that is considerate of others, this does not mean that you dress to "please" others.
Once when I was a Bible study teacher, someone from my Bible study kindly sent me an anonymous gift, a beautiful Vera Bradley bag. I rarely (well, probably never) would have splurged to buy such an item for myself, but I was happy and pleased to own something so stylish. However, over time I began to notice that people treated me differently when I carried that bag. I got many, many compliments. Once a woman complimented me and I said, "Oh, it was an anonymous gift..." She responded with astonishment, "A gift? Do you know, that must have cost $75 or more? That is some gift!" Clerks in stores treated me with more respect and deference than I'd ever experienced before. Nurses in doctors' offices asked me what I did for a living (ha!). For a time I enjoyed the feeling, but after awhile it began to bother me that something as silly as a handbag could have such a huge effect on how people treated me.
I tell that story to encourage you not to try to be a people-pleaser, nor to follow all the latest trends and styles primarily for the respect and power it will gain you around others who may not be able to afford what you have chosen to purchase and display.
- Don't buy something for the power it will give you.
- Don't wear something to intimidate others or to show off.
- Don't dress immodestly because you think it will make you more attractive to someone.
- Don't follow a fad merely because of peer pressure.
As you prepare yourself each morning, getting ready to go out and face yet another day, ask yourself these questions:
- Does the way I look bring glory to God and bear an appropriate testimony to His grace in my life?
- Does my appearance demonstrate consideration for those who will be with me today?
- Am I presenting myself in a way that shows love for my family, friends and fellow humans on this earth?
And. If all else fails, a nice fitting pair of khaki slacks, a navy blue cardigan, neatly brushed and tied back hair, a light coat of foundation and a flicker of mascara is appropriate for almost any situation.
Other posts in this series:
Good-bye, girls--part one,
Good-bye, girls--part two,
Good-bye, girls--part three,
Good-bye, girls--part four.
Good-bye, girls--part five
Good-bye, girls--part six
Good-bye, girls--part seven
Friday, November 8, 2013
Pumpkin Muffins
Last year, I went on a quest to make pumpkin muffins. I combed the internet and tried a bunch of recipes, none of which were any good at all.
This year, when I had a hankering for pumpkin muffins, I made a half recipe of my pumpkin streusel cake and baked it in cupcake cups. They were delicious, but very sweet and not very healthy.
I had about a cup of pumpkin left over from that project, and today I got brave. In order to use up my pumpkin, I experimented and made up my own pumpkin muffin recipe.
This year, when I had a hankering for pumpkin muffins, I made a half recipe of my pumpkin streusel cake and baked it in cupcake cups. They were delicious, but very sweet and not very healthy.
I had about a cup of pumpkin left over from that project, and today I got brave. In order to use up my pumpkin, I experimented and made up my own pumpkin muffin recipe.
They're great! (Not gluten or sugar free, but very nice, and reasonably nutritious.)
(that's luscious melted butter on there...
I was trying to get the photo while there was still part of a solid pat, but I was too slow)
Pumpkin Muffins
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup oil
~1 cup pumpkin (maybe a little more; it's not so fussy)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp clove (I just sprinkled some in)
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1 cup oats (I used quick oatmeal flakes)
Mix together and set aside. Sift together:
1 cup flour
3 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
Combine the wet ingredients with the dry ingredients.
Spoon into greased muffin tins.
Bake at 400 degrees F for 20 minutes. Makes 12.
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