But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him. ~James 1:5
I’ve been thinking about wisdom.
I heard it said that wisdom is the only specific thing the bible guarantees we’ll get if we pray for it.
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. ~Matthew 7:7-8
Prosperity gospel would say name it and claim it about anything, and Jesus did also say *IF* you believe you’ll get what you pray for.
If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer. ~Matthew 21:22
And then there’s the whole want versus need thing, daily bread versus a lifetime’s worth, yada yada, et cetera, et cetera.
I have too much snot in my head from the spring pollenpalooza to think about it all for very long. I’ll just make the pray for wisdom.
Maybe for good oxygen saturation and sufficient coffee to focus, too.
Cheers.
A couple ragamuffiny items to share …
The True Tunes podcast recently put together a lengthy but oh-so-good two-part episode featuring a “lost” interview with Rich Mullins. The host talks with quite a few people who knew Rich as well. It’s a must listen. Here’s a link to Part 1.
If you think I’m being mean by calling people fools, you need to research the cultural phenomenon known as Mr. T or else we can’t be friends.
I pity the fool who thinks April 1 is too late for it to snow in central Ohio. It’s been flurrying on and off out there all day. Someone wondered out loud on the social media whether multiple snow squalls in one day count as all three snows after the forsythia has bloomed. (A slightly more reliable prediction of the actual springing of spring than any observations by groundhogs.)
Discussion topic: The relative intelligence and overall value to humanity of beavers versus groundhogs. Go.
I suspect it’s a complex issue.
In other complex issue breaking news …
Starbucks launched their latest online game today, themed around Earth Month. We’ve expanded from a day to a month now. Don’t get me wrong, I strongly support being a good steward of the planet. I just don’t always agree with the popular party line on how to do that. If it makes you feel better to, as the app suggests, forego the plastic straw for a lid that contains more plastic, then I support the psychosomatic effect of your peace and contentment. I don’t know, maybe you’re able to recycle the lid but not the straw … maybe you’re not prone to spill coffee through that giant hole in the lid thereby increasing your consumption of energy and laundry products … maybe you dispose of your garbage in a turtle habitat where lids are less problematic than straws …
It’s a complex issue.
The game is also promoting veganism, which I had kind of sort of maybe heard people thought was more environmentally friendly than consuming meat and dairy. Maybe? A quick googling alleges crop farming occupies less land area and reduces greenhouse gas emissions. Further googling says don’t put Elsie out to pasture just yet. Any emission reductions may be minimal at best, vitamin deficiencies are a valid concern, and logistics of fruit and vegetable import/exports are a challenge. Avocado prices have risen so much reportedly Kenya stopped exporting avocados a few years ago and Mexicans have stopped buying the expensive but oh so delicious fruit.
They’ve stopped buying avocados in the land of guacamole.
Who really knows. I’m still putting an avocado or two on the next grocery order.
Be a vegan if it makes you happy. Or a vegetarian, carnivore, omnivore, chooseatarian. Enjoy Sbux whichever way you prefer or – probably the most earth friendly option – skip the Sbux altogether.
We worry about way too many things and get our priorities all discombobulated. Luke 10, Mary and Martha, anyone?
Peace out, fools.
Don’t fool yourself. Don’t think that you can be wise merely by being relevant. Be God’s fool—that’s the path to true wisdom. What the world calls smart, God calls stupid. It’s written in Scripture,
Pandemic fatigue has become its own pandemic as of late. I find myself tired and grieving the loss of many things over the past year.
The usual stuff.
If you look around, you’ll see people in the various stages of grief surrounding COVID. Anger and denial seem to be the most common.
I continue to be stunned by people I thought were generally like-minded when I learn of their views on everything from the mask debate to the existence of the virus itself and now on to the vax debate.
On the other hand, nothing really surprises me anymore.
There are so many situations in life where it’s impossible to know everything one hundred percent. There are too many variables. Too many unknowns. Even the best supercomputers we have can’t crunch those equations. So like good engineers or good business leaders we learn what we can, assess the risks, throw a fudge factor into the math if we have to, and make a decision. We decide and we take action.
I’ve noticed a trend in some faith communities to which I’m connected. People seem obsessed with their inability to measure up to some standard they think God expects of them. They seem fixated on an angry, vengeful, bloodthirsty version of the almighty. A version I don’t find in scripture, although twisted under the influence of Satan, humans could certainly make it look that way.
Some react by living their lives cowering in fear over messing up, perhaps manifesting in perfectionism, legalism, overachievement (ism? I just now made that a word), depression, anxiety … you get the picture.
Some react by obsessing so much over their particular sin issues it becomes an inescapable addiction.
Some react by rejecting faith and the existence of God altogether. Some get trendy and call it deconstruction.
That’s not how it works! That’s not how any of this works!
Around the 22-minute mark, Kyle shares about a phenomenon he noticed in his seminary students.
“I didn’t relate to it until I saw it in them and then I started thinking, ’Oh I’ve done that before.’ They try to atone for their sins in prayer by beating themselves up. They see their badness, their failure to pray well, and then they turn on themselves. And they kind of are, ‘Oh get your act together! This sin again? Are you kidding me?’ And they kind of turn on themselves.
They’re doing this little one-man play or one-woman play before God, hoping that God sees them and kind of puts the lightning bolt down. As if God’s waiting for a harshness so he doesn’t have to be.
In almost a kind of a pagan way they’re trying to use these disciplines to kind of get their tethers in God to get God on their side so they can manipulate him for their own purposes. And I’m like, that’s exactly what I’ve done in prayer.”
Kyle mentions Romans 8:1.
Therefore there is now no condemnation at all for those who are in Christ Jesus. ~Romans 8:1
I’d say keep reading through about verse 27 for a more complete picture.
Now in the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. ~Romans 8:26-27
Friend, did you hear that?
We’re free. From sin. From the need to sin. From the need to obsess about it.
PBS cooking shows were on the tv. After watching Julia Child make a tarte de pomme classique in black and white, we moved on to Scandanavian cooking. I lost track of how many times the host, standing in a luscious green field overlooking a fjord or something, uttered the word potato.
“Norway is a potato nation,” he said.
“The importance of the potato should not be underestimated.”
I agree, friend, I agree.
He then proceeded to serve mashed potatoes with fried pike and a crayfish sauce. Gag me. What a way to dishonor the vegetable of your nation. We might as well just break out the lutefisk and call it a day.
Not a fan of seafood. More for you.
The host pronounced his national vegetable po-tay-toe, by the way. In Norwegian accented British English.
Po-tay-toe.
Po-tay-toe.
Po-tay-toe.
All I can think about are … po-tay-toes.
Wasn’t one of the Teletubbies named Po?
Isn’t the United States also a po-tay-toe nation? We have an entire state whose name is synonymous with po-tay-toe. Plus there are shrines throughout the country dedicated to po-tay-toe worship. You’ll find them marked with the sign of two golden arches and guarded by the patron saint of po-tay-toes, a clown named Ronnie.
As much as I love po-tay-toes, I don’t really count them as a vegetable. I think of them as a starch, like bread, pasta, etc.
Some days I feel like a po-tay-toe.
Some days I probably look like one.
Is anyone else hungry? For carbs?
You guys, I didn’t make potatoes this week, but I did make cookie butter blondies. First piece was a little underbaked but oh so delicious.
They disappeared quickly.
I tried this metallic face mask. Pretty sure I look like the Tin Man. Or a shiny lavender po-tay-toe.
I ultimately did not purchase a unicorn terrarium, but I’m pretty sure I probably actually need one.
This is how much I want to get out of bed today. How much I want to March forth on March fourth.
I’m just over here waiting to duck and cover from the next crazy controversy.
Potayto, potahto.
Or vegan queso.
Felines with headwear.
Cat named Nat not in a hat.
Streets named for trees.
Probably no mulberry here.
“Judge not” twisted to serve one’s own whims. Say something unbecoming of a good comrade (and good luck figuring out what that is), and you’ll be canceled.
Iron sharpens iron. Marshmallows don’t do that.
Granted, marshmallows are more tasty.
I thought healthy debate was, well, healthy. Questioning, challenging, discussing – as long as it’s not done in a hateful way – is what we do, right? How we learn from each other? How in relationships of any kind we keep each other accountable?
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. ~Hebrews 12:1-3
I got my jam and bread. Where’s my tea?
Wonders if these shoes were made for marching forth. Also wonders why this angle makes my calves look gigantic.
This is how well my hands are working.
The deliciousness far outweighs the upside down aesthetic.
“Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts.” ~Acts 3:2 NIV
How many times have I read and heard that verse, but this time it hit me in a different way.
The gate was called Beautiful.
Beautiful.
I know God likes to choose names full of meaning and significance.
As a refresher, in Acts 3 Peter and John healed the crippled man, shared the gospel with a bunch of people, and then got into trouble with the religious leaders.
Anyway, today I can’t stop thinking about the word Beautiful.
I also can’t stop listening to the couple of sneak peak tracks that went out to Kickstarter supporters of Mitch McVicker’s upcoming album today. Which reminds me … Kevin Max has a campaign going, so if you dig his music, go check it out.
As for me, I’m going to go keep thinking about the word Beautiful.
The newest resident of the house adapted quickly to the absence of a couple limbs and is still flying regularly into the window.
I have approximately 5,347 pics on my phone of birds. The majority are probably the one bird.
If you wonder why the window is looking a mite smudged … I call this one Little Dirty Birdy Feet.
I also have approximately 5,347 pics of icicles.
We’re having a snowy, icy February. I’m kind of okay with it. We are fortunate that, unlike in many parts of the US, our power has stayed on and our road crews are equipped to deal. I’ve been grateful to have decent enough conditions (just barely) to go for a walk every few days.
Warmup and cooldown involve navigating the driveway.
Pandemic life has encouraged many of us to amp up our work/school/workout/caffeinate from home game. Nesting while the weather outside is frightful has become more accessible and comfortable for many.
Rare photo of a non-creeper shot from the comfort of the kitchen.
But let’s talk about the 1/4″ of ice and 1″ of permafrost on my car …
On the other hand, cancel culture has been interesting the last couple weeks. Interesting, meaning saddening. Curious. Scary at times. Someone suggesting the way of grace and love was canceled for suggesting the way of grace and love. When they apologized for daring to suggest the way of grace and love for someone who had apologized for insensitive rhetoric … nope. Still canceled. Apologies are not allowed. Perfectionism is required.
This week I’ve been greeted with friends virtually dancing on a grave, the likes of which I’ve not seen since the death of Saddam Hussein or Osama Bin Laden. Or perhaps even Hitler.
I’m just waiting to see people parading around with a pig’s head on a stick on the evening news. And it being celebrated.
I’m sure someone will try to mansplain me on why their revelry is justified. I probably won’t hear them, though, as I’m handing out 30-day snoozes like Oprah again. The way of grace and love doesn’t entertain that horse hooey.
The way of grace and love makes homemade candy on Valentine’s Day …
And, upon receiving a phone call suggesting Mexican takeout, throws the previously planned mushrooms in a skillet while the takeout is en route and combines the two. Note this meal may have been inspired by Saturday night’s Hallmark premiere, in which the male lead owns a Mexican restaurant.
Spinach enchiladas & refried beans with lagniappe.
Grace and love, friends. May you be creep-free.
This creepy spider has been hanging out in a neighbor’s tree since October. I guess it couldn’t handle the latest ice storm.
Bird is still the word. And it might just drive me to the nuthatch.
When last we spoke, a little bird was making a noisy nuisance of itself at my bedroom window. Over the last few days my new best friend has become bolder, allowing a better and more frequent view.
Definitely not a wren. Too big. Not the right markings.
When I say bolder noisy nuisance, I mean the dude really wants to fight the bird reflected in the glass. Anytime the sun is up … cloudy days … sunshiny days … curtain open … curtain closed …
But the first rule of fight club is you don’t talk about fight club. Or so I’ve heard.
I located the Audubon Guide we have in the house, first confirming the birds around the feeder were – as astutely noted by a friend studying my online pics – indeed juncos.
A couple crows, which are about six or eight times the size of a junco, have been encroaching upon their territory today.
I was thinking nuthatch for the bird-formerly-known-as-maybe-a-wren, and there is a brown nuthatch that’s similar. But pictured next to the brown nuthatch is what I believe to be the true identity of the creature that continues to fly into the window next to me over and over and over.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you … the brown creeper.
Between the guidebook and some googling, the brown creeper it is.
I always feel like … somebody’s watching me …
I always feel like … a creeper’s creeping on me …
Oy vey.
Earlier this week, in an effort to encourage said creeper to creep somewhere else in the yard … it occurred to me I could trim the juniper bush that has been serving as a bird trampoline. First I needed to do a curbside grocery pickup, coincidentally at the Giant Eagle, better known to us as The Big Bird.
Well that’s festive.
I read an article that morning about foods to boost your mood in winter, so I had my shopper add blueberries to the order.
Then it was 28 deg F and sunny with almost no wind, so I went for a walk.
Living in a place where the weather changes every fifteen minutes, it was overcast when I finished. By then MacGyver had volunteered to do the trimming. Awesome. Easier for me to photograph the process.
Before.
In process.
I was too distracted by the fungus among us to get a good after shot of the juniper.
As it was nearly sundown, the real test came the next day.
I mean, I like birds. Their beauty. Their songs. But, um, I could use some sleep, peace, and quiet. You know, some social distancing from the window.
So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. ~Genesis 1:21
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? ~Matthew 6:26
I don’t know if it’s the way the light hits the glass in the morning …
Or if there’s a nest in the bushes just outside the window …
Or both …
But this bird likes to make a noisy racket in the morning just a few feet from where my head is trying to sleep. Scratching and stirring along the sill. Sometimes chirping.
I am not a morning person. And this bird seems offended by that.
Maybe it’s more than one bird, I don’t know. I might be a modern day Tippi Hedren.
I’ve tried stalking it before with my phone camera, cautiously walking up to the window and slowly pulling back the curtain. Always the creature darts away before I can capture a shot. Sometimes it’s so fast I don’t even lay eyes on it.
Today I tried a different approach.
I didn’t hold out much hope, as I still needed to move the curtain away from the window … just enough to stick my arm up in the air … while holding my phone … while still laying flat on my back.
The contortionist shot.
The first attempt yielded no bird, but it is kind of fun.
On subsequent attempts, though …
You may have to zoom in. We’ll play a game of Where’s Waldo called Where’s the Wren? I think it might be a wren. I’ll consult my local Audubon Society in my spare time.
Now … what, if anything, to do about it.
I wonder if I can apply duct tape to this problem …
Hours later, birds are still chirping out there. A more welcome soundtrack in the afternoon. It’s a veritable and lively nature preserve, in spite of the snowy conditions.
I suppose I’m grateful for the peaceful chirping of birds. For sure in the afternoon. I’m trying to be grateful for the (peaceful or not) chirping of birds in the morning.
Musical notes not from birds …
Mitch McVicker’s Kickstarter reached the minimum threshold to fund his new album. (Yay!) There’s a week left to contribute to the campaign – to get it to the level where corners don’t have to be cut and to get some nice perks for you.
Until next time … I’ll be over here chirping away …
Chirping away … rapping away … when The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air comes up on shuffle.
It’s been a mixed bag on how much Vitamin D is available from stepping outside.
I saw my shadow the day after Groundhog Day. Not sure what it means.
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