This was the headline as I opened Internet Explorer just now. Apparently Kimbo Slice's reputation as the "baddest man on earth" came to a crashing halt when he was knocked out by a far inferior competitor. You can read about all the gory details on Yahoo.com.
"Kimbo" was a nickname originally bestowed upon me by my 7th grade Bible teacher and henceforth propogated by family members and friends alike. Thus, when my eyes stumbled upon this tagline, my mind grappled with its content.
My thoughts went something along these lines:
"What if...? What if that really was about me? What if the chasm that exists between my words and actions was exposed for all to see? What if the image I so carefully clothe with my prideful delusions of grandeur was suddenly derobed and I was left naked with no place to hide?
Perhaps...Perhaps it would be the best thing that could possibly happen. Perhaps then I would recklessly run to the man who has always known. And fall into the arms that gave me everything when all I had to give in return was my filthiness.* Perhaps then I would refuse to wear anything other than what he puts on me.
*See Ezekiel 16
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Shame, shame, shame
She couldn't have been more than 5 years old, but already she was well-acquainted with shame. Oh, I doubt she could have articulated a concise definition or even used it in a sentence. Yet her hasty sideways glance and involuntary clenching told me more than her elementary tongue ever could.
I had been reading a book in the food court when I noticed this girl out of the corner of my eye. She had just settled down in her chair when the bag of popcorn in her hands was upset with one clumsy gesture. As several kernels took their place on the ground, her eyes darted upward, desperately hoping that her action had escaped her mother's awareness.
The movement was slight and the incident relatively insignificant. But it immediately transported me to another time and place. This time I am the girl. And instead of popcorn, it is scattered feathers that are the source of guilt. I am blissfully immersed in an imaginary store, using my parents' pillow cases as merchandise. As I play, the pillows' free falling feathers seize the opportunity to find a resting place on my dad's pants - the pants that he would put on for church in mere seconds.
Within seconds of my dad's entrance upon the scene, I am fully conscious of his displeasure. His tone is severe and his lips taut as he questions how his pants had acquired feathers.
It is in this moment that I experience the captive-making effects of shame. Everything in my 5 year old frame longs to run and hide. And though I remain rooted in front of my father's towering figure, I retreat internally - hiding all knowledge of my misdeed and refusing to shed any light on the truth. As many times as he asked for the truth, I denied him access to it. Hiding. Deceit. Darkness. Fear. Shame.
It is to this shame-filled and imprisoned heart that God announces this great news:
"In Christ and through faith in Christ we may approach God with freedom and confidence."
No more wrath...it has all been poured out on God's perfect Son, so that we can come close. Amazing grace.
I had been reading a book in the food court when I noticed this girl out of the corner of my eye. She had just settled down in her chair when the bag of popcorn in her hands was upset with one clumsy gesture. As several kernels took their place on the ground, her eyes darted upward, desperately hoping that her action had escaped her mother's awareness.
The movement was slight and the incident relatively insignificant. But it immediately transported me to another time and place. This time I am the girl. And instead of popcorn, it is scattered feathers that are the source of guilt. I am blissfully immersed in an imaginary store, using my parents' pillow cases as merchandise. As I play, the pillows' free falling feathers seize the opportunity to find a resting place on my dad's pants - the pants that he would put on for church in mere seconds.
Within seconds of my dad's entrance upon the scene, I am fully conscious of his displeasure. His tone is severe and his lips taut as he questions how his pants had acquired feathers.
It is in this moment that I experience the captive-making effects of shame. Everything in my 5 year old frame longs to run and hide. And though I remain rooted in front of my father's towering figure, I retreat internally - hiding all knowledge of my misdeed and refusing to shed any light on the truth. As many times as he asked for the truth, I denied him access to it. Hiding. Deceit. Darkness. Fear. Shame.
It is to this shame-filled and imprisoned heart that God announces this great news:
"In Christ and through faith in Christ we may approach God with freedom and confidence."
No more wrath...it has all been poured out on God's perfect Son, so that we can come close. Amazing grace.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
I Raise My Glass to Mr. Lewis
"Longing by definition cannot be satisfied - it is the call to pilgrimage - the absence of resignation."
- C.S. Lewis
"Avoid the mistake of assuming that the longing in the heart is for the object before you."
- C.S. Lewis
- C.S. Lewis
"Avoid the mistake of assuming that the longing in the heart is for the object before you."
- C.S. Lewis
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