Transformation

I used to:

• be adamantly conservative...now what used to matter to me no longer does

• be a Republican...now I won't vote based on party

• believe in the death penalty...now I'm not so sure

• judge people who don't go to church...now I sometimes wonder why I go

• think people at church were as sinless as they appeared...now I know better

• think grace was too easy, too lenient...now I know its transforming power

• not know a thing about real love...now I'm learning

And that's the short list...

POTSC: What We Have In Common With Mel Gibson

There have been more than a few moments in my life that if an audio or video recorder had been taping, I'd be horribly ashamed to watch or listen. It would be even more humiliating for those moments to be publicly released. I've yelled at my kids, I've said awful things to my husband...I've acted out in a way that didn't represent what I truly believe. Those moments often stem from my own needs and hurts, and usually have nothing to do with the targets of my actions.

We all have those moments when we do things that don't represent who we are or what we deep-down believe, and those are the moments we usually regret the most. They're the moments that come back to haunt us in the dead of night.

Why would someone famous be any different? Specifically, why would Mel Gibson be any different?

Unfortunately, Gibson's irrational, drunken, angry moments have been released to the public. And we, the public, seem to base his reputation on those moments. But is a reputation the totality of a person? Not likely. Unfortunately, instead of throwing out the bad, and choosing to focus on the good, we often allow a few ugly moments in time to define a person.

It's as though we don't have enough to deal with in our own lives, so we gossip based on what we think is true about others. Whether it's the neighbor down the street, a co-worker, or a public persona, we talk about others to deflect the attention from our own needs and hurts.

Hurt people sometimes hurt others. Whether it's Gibson's behavior or our gossip, both stem from a place of hurt. We could all benefit from a little more grace and forgiveness from one another. Forgiven people should forgive others.

Who do you know that might benefit from your grace and forgiveness today?

Other POTSC Never Beyond posts:
Casey Anothony
Mike Tyson
KKK

POTSC: A White Alabama Girl and The KKK

The Heart of Dixie. Where neighbors lounge in rocking chairs on front porches, sipping sweet iced tea on hot summer evenings, chatting about all the other neighbors and solving the world's problems, one sip at a time.

My home.

Alabama the beautiful...with an ugly past.

Alabama: The 1960's battleground for civil rights. The home of the infamous Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing. The state whose capital name is synonymous with Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr., as well as George Wallace, Jr. A state once divided on the basis of skin color.

A white girl, I was born in the 1970s when the fight for civil rights was still pretty fresh on adults' minds. Alabama was adjusting to a new {and better} normal. Laws had changed, but the undercurrent of racism was still strong. In fact, most of what I knew as a child about Martin Luther King, Jr., was negative {and false}. Nigger was a commonly used word by white people {including me}, and attitudes of white supremacy were not uncommon.

And, sadly, the reputation of the KKK was somewhat that of heroic.

It was not rare to hear jokes about the KKK. Stories of burning crosses and roadside murders were passed down to my generation with little compassion or concern.

Looking back, even the church didn't seem to take a hard stance against the KKK. In fact, the church seemed somewhat netural, even if they weren't condoning. Maybe the blame was to be placed at the feet of ignorance. I certainly didn't have a full understanding at a young age that racism and prejudices were wrong and to be avoided. And even though I didn't participate in KKK activity, my attitude probably wasn't much different from those of KKK members.

It wasn't until I gave birth to my first child that I realized that racism and prejudice lied just beneath my surface. I was quick to give up the use of the n-word. With time I began to see beyond skin color, to understand that we were all created equal and in God's image.

So when I ask you to forgive the KKK and extend grace, I am asking you to include my past prejudices because there's only a fine line separating attitude and action. And whether or not ignorance may have been {and still be} the cause for most people who were involved with the KKK, hate runs deep, and your forgiveness could be their healing balm.

If you can't find it in your heart to forgive the doers of such despicable deeds, remember what Jesus had to say as he hung on the cross: Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing. (Luke 23:34 NASB)

Other POTSC: Never Beyond posts:
Casey Anthony
Mike Tyson

Writing and Singing

I've been a stay-at-home mom for ten wonderful, painful, tedious, satisfying years. But now all three girls are in school, and my stay-at-home mom gig leaves me feeling less than satisfied during those long eight hours each day. While I'm helping out my husband with our business, answering phones and shuffling paperwork just doesn't fill the need I have to do something productive and satisfying. More and more I keep thinking I might look for work. But not just any work. I want to do something I love.

I love to sing and write. And not just sing and write about any old thing. My passion is singing and writing about how God loves me, how His love changes me, how He is hope. Yet I struggle with my abilities to sing and write. It's a lack of confidence, even though I know He equips the called. This is probably the biggest area where I take my eyes off Him, and focus on so many others who are so much better at singing and writing. And when I do that {which is more frequent than I like to admit}, I think about giving up.

I've said before when God wants me to understand something, He speaks to me over and over about it. I've been sensing this changing season, and this new thing He's doing in my life. He confirmed that to me through two different people using the same verse on the same day: Behold, I will do something new, now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43:19, NASB).

Then, if that wasn't enough, He confirmed to me that this new thing He's doing will be through singing and writing...those two things I love so much, yet scare me too. In addition to the verse, God spoke directly to me through my pastor as he was preaching about grace and work. He talked about how we should use the gifts and talents God has given us to work in jobs that we love. The he said, Don't quit writing and singing.

My head snapped up from my sermon notes. What was that, God? You really had him say that? Of all the job illustrations he could've used, you spoke those words through his mouth to me. I sat stunned, amazed and grateful. And confirmed.

I don't know what God's plan is or where He's going to lead me in these areas. But I recognize that I can't settle for less...for something that won't satisfy. And while I want Him to hurry up and show me, I know that sometimes the beauty is found in the waiting.

Searching For Truth

Several months ago I felt a personal challenge to dig deeper into law and grace. I've spent most of my free time reading. I've been reading through the New Testament portions that describe Jesus' life. I've also been reading several different books on the subject, picking them up alternately.

When I set out to learn about law and grace, I had no idea the journey God would take me on. All I knew at the time was that my experience with God was different from anything I'd ever been taught, and I wanted to find out why. I started asking questions. A need to know permeated my being. And with each bit of information, the need intensified. More, God...tell me more.

When I asked God to reveal truth to me, I wasn't quite prepared for what He'd show me. He began to reveal to me the understanding of Scriptures that I'd long questioned because they seemed contradictory to one another. What I found was that most of what I believed was a mixture of law and grace, which skewed my understanding of Scripture.

The most amazing thing I've learned is when reading the Bible, read it in the context of two divisions:

Old Covenant
New Covenant

When I began to put Scripture into context of these divisions, the purposes of law and grace began to finally make sense to me. And freedom began to rush in. I finally began to grasp that God sees Jesus in me, and me in Him. He sees righteousness when He looks at me. All my sins (past, present and future) have been forgiven. God's love for me doesn't depend on my beahvior...at all! If it did, that would be mixing the Old Covenant with the New. But the Old Covenant was put to death on the cross. Living under the New Covenant allows me to live in freedom, glorifying God, instead of living in a sin management program.

This truth has completely changed me. I am a different person. My understanding of Scripture is radically different. My concept of God has been aligned with His Word. My opinions and beliefs have been shifted.
And, honestly, I've been a little afraid to talk about it because it's so radically different from what most Christians I know believe. I've felt that if I discussed my questions, people would label me as on the verge of heresy. Maybe they will. But for the person in bondage, searching for freedom, I hope to encourage you to dig deeper. Ask questions. Keep searching!

My Childhood Summer Vacations

My childhood summer vacations were unlike those of most of my friends. Instead of heading to the beach or the mountains, we were giddy with excitement over spending a few days being brainwashed. We packed our dresses and skirts, our biggest Bibles, and little more, and drove to campmeeting. We chatted about who might yell the loudest, run the perimeter of the building, or jump the pews. We were thrilled about getting our preacher-heroes to sign our Bibles. My little mind certainly wasn't aware of the emotional manipulation that occurred every year. That realization came with adulthood.

 

Rules {and the consequences for not obeying them} were the hot topic. I hope God's love was shared with the hundreds of people who packed the building, but I can't remember. Mostly I remember being scared to do anything wrong for fear of being called out and embarrassed. I feared that God, in His anger, would severely punish me for any wrongdoing. In fact, what I took away from all those campmeetings was that my relationship with God was based on my performance. Even though the cross was a hot topic at those meetings, {and the subject sent the most spiritual into loud hallelujahs and amens, and caused them to run and jump until they broke into sweats, pulling out their crisp, white handkerchiefs}, I don't recall being taught that the work completed on the cross leads to freedom.

 

I wonder where all the convictions spewed from the pulpit, blanketing all of the listeners, came from. We weren't encouraged to seek God about personal convictions. Instead, we were all supposed to be under the same convictions:

 

• women were not to wear pants or shorts
• men were to keep short, above-the-collar haircuts
• women were to limit the amount and color of makeup
• no rock or country music, and certainly not the new, contemporary Christian
• stay away from the movie theaters
• only read the King James Version of the Bible {and it needed to be BIG; otherwise, you would be classified as ashamed}

 

Any deviation from the convictions led one to be shamed. All efforts were made to bring the one back into the fold. If the browbeating, guilt-laden efforts didn't work, the one was shunned and talked about. Surely, they'd never really been a Christian if they could so easily disobey the rules.

 

Over the past five years, as I've let go of the manipulation and brainwashing, I've come to understand that God is not who I thought He was, nor is Christianity what I believed it to be. On occasion, I will see families with a hauntingly familiar appearance. I remember feeling being different, wanting to be normal, but believing that if I was like everyone else, I would be condemned. I so desperately want to wrap my arms around young girls who remind me of myself at that age, and tell them that God is not an angry monster. I want to tell them it's okay to be normal. I want to pour grace and freedom into them. Instead, I sit and watch. I watch their oppressive spirits, and I remember what it was like to carry that burden. Sadness overwhelms me with the realization that they may never know grace. Or if they do, the road they will travel to find it will be guilt-ridden, just as mine was.