While I love to write here on this blog, I love reading other people's blogs even more. Here are some of the best posts I've read in the past couple of weeks. Click on the titles to read the entire post.
And you, what did you love reading this week, leave me the link, I'm always looking for a great blog to read!
Christ the Church and Pat Robertson on Moore to the Point
Sadly, many of our neighbors assume that when they hear the parade of cartoon characters we allow to speak for us, that they are hearing the gospel. They assume that when they see the giggling evangelist on the television screen, that they see Jesus. They assume that when they see the stadium political rallies to “take back America for Christ,” that they see Jesus. But Jesus isn’t there.
Jesus tells us he is present in the weak, the vulnerable, the useless. He is there in the least of these (Matt. 25:31-46). Somewhere out there right now, a man is wiping the drool from an 85 year-old woman who flinches because she think he’s a stranger. No television cameras are around. No politicians are seeking a meeting with them.
But the gospel is there. Jesus is there.
A response to Mark Driscoll's Poverty Parable on Sit a Spell
So no thanks, Mark Driscoll. Peddle that bike parable somewhere else please. Ride it around in front of people stronger and more mature in their faith than I am, because when I read your post I'm tempted to think that God gave me my beautiful, giant house in one of the safest neighborhoods with the nicest schools. I'm tempted to believe that God gave me my Expedition. I'm tempted to believe that God gave me my clothes from Ann Taylor Loft. I'm tempted to believe that my stuff fell straight from heaven, so why not enjoy it instead of owning the fact that I used my own brain to decide what house to buy. The truth is, God provided the money and I picked out my car. I picked out my clothing. I decided how much to spend on me and how much I'd give to my neighbors who have nothing. God gave me the money and I decided whether or not I needed a bike and if it should be top of the line or one I bought at a garage sale for $20.
God gave the money. I made the decisions.
After the Airport on Jen Hatmaker.com
I followed a God into this story who heals and redeems, who restores wasted years and mends broken places. This God specializes in the Destroyed. I've seen it. I've been a part of it. I have His ancient Word that tells of it. I love a Jesus who made reconciliation his whole mission. My children will not remain broken. They are loved by too good a Savior. I will not remain exhausted and spent. I am loved by too merciful a Father.
So today, I'm writing for you who are somewhere "after the airport." The big moment is over and you are living in the aftermath when the collective grief or euphoria has passed. You lost a parent, a sibling, a friend, a child. The experience mobilized every single human being who loves you, and they rallied, gathered, carried you. And now it's three months later on a random Tuesday, and the sting has worn off for everyone else, and you are left in your sorrow.
Being a Curvy Girl married to a Skinny Guy on Curvy Girl Guide
I love my husband very much.
But sometimes I hate him, too.
You see, I am married to a Perpetually Skinny. You know the type. They’re the ones who can eat whatever they want without gaining weight. They’re the ones whose metabolism never actually catches up as they age. They’re the ones who can order a pair of jeans online and be reasonably assured that they are going to look great when they put them on.
Come with Me on Flower Patch Farmgirl
But then I would think of what's ahead of us and I'd know it all again. We are going. We don't know where, exactly, but it's different from here, and that's exciting and it's also a little weepy, a little anxious-feeling. For a long time, I would have equated the butterflies with an absence of peace, but I know better this time around. I know that sometimes it's necessary to gather up some extra courage and jump with your eyes closed. Because what's faith without a little fear? How much do we really need to trust when what we're doing is our favorite thing, the easiest thing, the quietest thing?