Pots of blooming bulbs greet me as I walk into Walmart. Last month’s heart-shaped boxes of chocolate have been replaced with jelly beans, pastel peeps, and chocolate rabbits. Displays at the end of the aisles feature stuffed bunnies and lambs. And at church, there’s the annual push to invite guests to the Easter service.
This year, Easter (aka “Resurrection Sunday”) falls on March 27. That’s only a couple of weeks away. If we are going to invite anyone to church, we’d better hop to it.
I didn’t run away from God. It was more of a drift, a gradual replacement of time normally dedicated to Him. Three weeks on the road—two weeks with the grandkids—will do that. Getting up early to go birding, eating breakfast on the run instead of at home with my Bible by my plate. Being woken at the first glimmer of dawn by two giggly little girls wanting to snuggle with Grandma and Papa Pete. Days full of familiar friends, new places, flowers, birds, and family. I didn’t run away from God. I got distracted.
We finally arrived home this week after driving 4,000 miles through nine states. After unpacking my suitcase, sorting the mail, and starting the first load of laundry, I sat down to write. Nothing came; my mind was a blank. But what about all those inspiring ideas I’d had while praying as I drove across Wyoming, Utah, Nevada? I’d never had a chance to write them down. They were forgotten. Worse, God wasn’t giving me any new insights. I felt disconnected. Distant. Chagrined that I’d let my most important relationship languish.
(This is the next post in my “Organic” series. If you missed the first one, you can find it here.)
It may surprise you to learn that organic farmers use pesticides. The only difference is that, for the most part, their pesticides must derive from natural sources rather than a laboratory. Does this make them safer than synthetic ones?
Consider—copper sulfate, an organic pesticide allowed by the USDA, is more toxic than some synthetic pesticides; an overdose can cause anemia, liver disease, mutations and cancer. Arsenic is a natural substance, but is so toxic that it is banned by the USDA for use on organic crops. Nicotine-derived pesticides, another group of natural chemicals, are also considered too dangerous for use by organic farmers.
Do you know the story about Jesus healing the paralytic? (You can find it in Mark 2:1-12.) It goes something like this. Jesus is teaching. He’s in a building, perhaps someone’s home. It’s a full house—packed with eager listeners, along with the usual contingent of Pharisees, trying to trip Him up. It’s so crowded that, when a group of friends arrive, they can’t get in the door.
It’s important for them to get inside because they’ve brought another friend who has been paralyzed for years and years. Everyone had given up hope. Then Jesus comes onto the scene, healing folks. Clearly, this is the big chance. If anyone can heal this man, Jesus can. So they scoop him up and bring him to Jesus. And now they’re reached a dead end. They can’t get inside!
I am not a crazy cat lady. I do not have upwards of 30 cats roaming around, shedding, shredding, or hacking up undigested slimy fur balls.
However, I am a cat person. That is, I like cats. I prefer them to dogs, although I like dogs well enough. I grew up an only child with a succession of feline siblings. I’d spend hours scritching around the ears and under their chin, feeding them, grooming them, snuggling with them every night. I even wore them (right).
As a college student away from home and cat, I chafed at the dorm rules prohibiting pets. Pete and I and picked out an abandoned ball of fur at the pound the day after we moved into our first house. We’ve had at least one (and as many as three) cat(s) ever since—35 years’ worth of cats—until this past year when our last cat passed away at the ripe old age of nineteen. Between moving into a pristine, un-furred house (with new, odorless carpet) and the discovery that Pete is allergic, a cat is no longer an option.
Organic is popular. We eat organic food. We wear organic cotton. Even our household cleaners are organic. Organic is supposed to be good for us and good for the environment. But what does organic mean? Is it really always better?
To the dictionary, organic means “of, relating to, or derived from living matter.” So you and I are organic. The cement sidewalk is not. All the food in my fridge is organic. The refrigerator itself is not.
To a chemist, an organic molecule is “the kind normally found in living systems.” Organic molecules usually include hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon. These atoms can be strung together into long chains or arranged into rings. Starches and proteins are organic molecules. Salt is not.
Last week I let the Bible point out how God wants us to treat foreigners— refugees—living among us. We are not to mistreat or oppress them, we are to treat them as we treat one another, with the same laws. We are to provide food and clothing, and ensure they receive justice. However, we aren’t the only ones with responsibilities. God has expectations for the foreigners as well.
It’s a difficult situation. Vast numbers of refugees are fleeing war and terrorism, risking their lives in open boats, trudging across Europe, seeking safety. In response, many nations are stretching their own resources to accommodate them, allowing them into the country, scrambling to provide food, clothing, and shelter. Pictures of adorable but frightened children, held by exhausted mothers, fill the news. How can we not help them?
On the other hand, hidden in that mass of desperate humanity are radical Muslims with their guns and bombs, seeking to destroy us.
We are a culture of action. We’re eager to get started, to accomplish something. And to a great extent, we are valued according to what we achieve. How much money do we make? What awards have we won? What discoveries have we made?
When we meet someone new, we ask “What do you do?” If we have a need, the standard advice is to “don’t just sit there—do something!” We applaud a man of action and disparage a couch potato. We tell ourselves that life is too short to wait. Continue reading
What are you praying for?
As we close out 2015 and begin 2016, my friend’s blog post suggested we ask God some questions: “What prayers did You answer in this past year?” and “Are there any areas You want me to focus on in prayer this year?” (You can read her excellent post here.) As they were meant to do, those questions started me thinking….
Compost 