Finding Jesus Without Actually Being An Addict: God Has Some Mad Skills

I used to be an addict. I smoked. Marlboro Lights 100 in a box. I never did buy an actual carton because that would have meant i was a serious smoker... denial, of course. It would have been a lot cheaper to admit my addiction and save a few bucks. Forget about saving my lungs. I could say that it was this addiction that brought me to the Lord, that had me believing that my soul needed saving. But, that would be a lie. I knew the Lord before i smoked. I found him about the same time He found me. I think. Maybe that would be a lie too if the Bible tells me that he knew me while i was being knit together in my mother's womb.... well... at any rate, i got to know Jesus way before i was a smoker.

I found him by running away from my home. I ran to people that were kind and took me in, sheltered me under their collective wings. I believed that i could be loved at home if i did all the right things, if my works were good enough. I believed that would save me from the evil that prevailed. If i did all the right things and was a good daughter then i would be loved and adored and all would be really good. What i found out was that it didn't matter what i did. It was still awful and brutal and mean and unfair. I should have been treated like the good kid i was. Really. What i also found out was that it didn't matter what i did outside the home, under the wings of the people that i ran to. I was the same person, the same kid, but they saw all the anger and the tears and they showed me grace. How does THAT work? If i was a biblical editor i would throw out the book of James. It isn't about WORKS. At least it didn't work for me.

God has these mad skills of loving us despite ourselves and what we do. While i was being shown this Love by people outside of my home, it hit me that this is how God works. It didn't matter what i did. It didn't matter what i didn't do. I couldn't do anything to earn this Love, and i couldn't do anything to make this Love go away... my friends taught me the meaning of Grace.

I could have easily run from home into the arms of angry people who didn't know about Grace. i could easily have chosen to be angry and cry with these people and they would have tried to make me feel better with alcohol, or drugs, or whatever took them to a place where they didn't have to feel anything. I could have easily been an addict to something way worse than Marlboro Lights 100... but i didn't go down that road. I still wonder what makes some people choose that road, and others go a different way... I think it may be something to do with who we hang with. I ended up hanging out with a bunch of Christians...I ended up finding out about God's mad skills to save someone like me. It is amazing for those who find Jesus while being addicted to some other saviour. Somehow or another it is another person who reaches into the heart of that addict and pulls them out of themselves into a place of light and love and grace. Once that happens it's so hard to forget it -- it's hard to go back into the darkness.

As Christians, isn't that our jobs? To show the light to people? To accept their faults, their addictions, their anger and fear and lead them away from all that? I wonder about those certain Christians in the media who are close-minded to those who really need to see an open mind and an open heart. It isn't about what we say, or what we think is the Truth... it's about seeing people though the eyes of Grace and knowing that we all need it... we all need to be taken in under somebody's wings. Isn't it time to show the world the mad skills of God?

Watching Others Sled

So, i just got done reading some of Marie's blogs... going to the theatre and watching plays with her family, cleaning (organizing) her kitchen and currently going through the numerous number of books in her office space at home. She is quite inspiring, and irritating all at once. dang her ambition, and her energy. Dang her active family life -- hobnobbing at the theatre and all her writing about her feelings and thoughts, about her anger at the catholics and their myopic (although I'm not so sure that even their short-sightedness is all that clear) vision about sexual abuse -v- abortion and her weeping easily... all this life going on.

I admire that and it makes me wonder about this life of mine. Today, outside it is a blizzard... it's beautiful and fierce. i love it. Later today we'll have to go out in it, walk a ways to the church for an event. It's been a snowy winter and i truly have enjoyed every flake. It is our second winter here and last year was an eye-opener for all us and especially Sofie. That girl is a snow-bunny -- her and Joe went out every day that was sled-able and were out for hours, climbing up hills, sledding down, laughing, snowy, red-cheeked, completely able. An entire new world for her. Olivija would be out for a few minutes and would be freezing and have to come in. I, of course, didn't even bother to go out. i would stand in the window and watch - waiting for Olivija to come in and needing help getting her boots off, and me warming her up with hot chocolate and snuggles. I would stand and watch the sledding. thinking to myself - oh man, i'm so glad i'm not out there. i am so NOT able. i can't climb those hills.

Part of the watching was the inability to climb up the hill - i blame my bad knees, but when i'm completely honest with myself the bad knees are a product of the comfort food and lack of exercise. it's a very simple and hard learned equation: comfort food + lack of exercise = big thighs and way too much weight to carry up little tiny sledding hills.

Back to Marie... there is a part of me that is standing at a window watching her climb the hills. I'm trying to figure out the equation of this. I really have nothing to blame - there are no "bad knees" in my abilities to be active. my equation theory really doesn't hold up. The variables are the unknown x's and y's of my life. x + y = lack of climbing up my hills. hmmmmm. i truly wish i was a mathematician at this point.

I will say this though - the comfort food + lack of exercise equation made much more sense last year. This year the equation has changed a little: healthy food + lack of exercise = smaller thighs and a little less weight to carry up little tiny sledding hills. This year i put on the boots, the snow pants, the gloves and hat and i hauled myself up the Dalenberg Slope and i slid down the hill. I got up, climbed back up and went down again, and again.

Eventually, i had to go in with Olivija (who was freezing) to help her with her boots and the warming up of her body... later, as I stood there at the window, sipping my own hot chocolate, i thought - oh, man, i wish i was out there still sledding. I am able. I can climb up those hills.