Archive for the ‘Reflections’ Category

Argument

March 9th, 2010

Nothing gets me going like a good argument. I just love to argue. Let’s find something we disagree about–no matter how minute–and let’s duke it out.

I imagine my family tired of it on occasion–but they accepted that I enjoyed verbal sparring and they engaged me on that level.

Daniel used to needle me by taking a masochistic stance–which I would return with a feminist point of view. (Don’t freak out here–my feminism is of quite a different breed than this world’s.)

Timmy’ll suggest that Marx had a point and we’ll argue over economics and politics and the running of nations.

Dad and I will find some way to argue our two sides of the predestination/free will debate (I’m a hair more Calvinist than he.)

In early high school, I was part of an online community of homeschoolers. Some people frequented the just-for-fun type message boards, but I hung out almost exclusively in the debate board. We argued free will and predestination, creation and evolution, age of the earth, contraceptive use (there were quiverfulls among us), politics, abortion, and whether Christians should celebrate Christmas. I was in my element.

In my senior year of high school, I did a one year Bible program because I’d already finished my high school requirements. One of my classmates liked arguing as much as I so we’d argue with each other or play tag-team as we argued with a teacher. Eschatology, election, the role of the church–these were some of our favorite topics. And we argued them with vigor.

Arguing invigorates me. It makes me feel alive. My mind is active, my mouth (or keyboard) is active. I’m engaging the topic. I’m thinking as I’m speaking. There’s nothing that can put a spring in my step like a good argument.

But somewhere along the way, I learned that many people aren’t like me. They don’t like to argue. They don’t like to disagree. They don’t see arguing as a mental game, an exercise for the brain. They see it as a battle, an attack on who they are and what they believe.

Or sometimes they like to argue–but not for arguments sake. They are convinced that their view is the only correct view and nothing will change their mind. What’s more–they’re awfully bent on changing my mind. Which often means that they won’t actually engage my ideas–they just fire off with their own.

I’ve learned this of other people and it has pushed me underground as an arguer. I don’t want to attack people. I don’t want them to think I’m a bad person because I disagree with them either. So I keep quiet about certain controversial subjects. I try not to provoke too many arguments.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love to argue. I still love a good argument–especially one with Scripture references and proof-texts flying back and forth.

But since I’ve realized that others’ attitudes towards arguments differ from my own, I’ve tried to be really selective as to who I argue with. I try to only argue with people who see it as a mental workout, as I do–people who recognize the inner Irenic (peacemaker) amidst the outer Polemic (fighter).

But then, every so often, I’ll start arguing with someone, and when I’m done, I’ll wonder “Did that get taken the right way?”

Did I read that person wrong when I thought they liked this as much as I?

Did I misestimate the depth of their feeling or attachment to this topic, such that my challenge might be seen as an attack?

Did I misjudge this person when I figured they would understand that I agree with them even as I’m disagreeing?

Because I only argue with people I respect. I only disagree with people I agree with. I only argue with people I care about and admire.

But what if they don’t know that and misinterpret my argumentation?

What if, in doing what I so enjoy, I hurt a dear brother or sister? What then?

And what am I to do with Paul’s admonition to Titus?

“But avoid foolish disputes, genealogies, contentions, and strivings about the law; for they are unprofitable and useless. Reject a divisive man after the first and second admonition, knowing that such a person is warped and sinning, being self-condemned.”
Titus 3:9-11

Is that what I do, who I am when I argue? Do I argue in an unprofitable and useless way? Am I divisive, warped, and sinning in loving argument?

Do I major on minors and let petty things become points of contention?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

But I so love it when someone challenges me and we can mentally and verbally spar. I just want to be sure that in doing so, I am encouraging them (as arguing so often encourages me) rather than tearing them down. I want to be sure that I’m bringing them life (as I feel more alive in the midst of a good argument) rather than bringing them death. I want to be sure that I’m demonstrating my respect for them (as I feel respected when someone engages my mind) instead of making them feel disrespected. I just wish I could be sure.

But I can’t. And that’s what worries me.

Pseudonymous

March 6th, 2010

I’ve often contemplated taking on a pseudonym–or at least a pseudo-pseudonym.

Maybe I don’t want people to know whether I’m a guy or a girl. Enter the pseudonym “Bek Menter”. It’s unusual, yes, but definitely more masculine than feminine. It’d work great if I wanted to be a professor or something. That’s been my thought, anyway.

Of course, I’m already representing myself online by the pseudonymous “bekahcubed”. Admittedly, that’s less of a pseudonym than a nickname–the name my father gave me to shorten the “bekah bekah bekah” I’d been calling myself. But that is a blogger identity, a journal blogger identity no less.

But what if I don’t really want to be a professor or something? What if I’m not sure journal blogging is all I want?

If I’m to be a serious writer, a thinker, I should have a thinker’s pseudonym. In this case, I would do well to take the cue of a thousand thinkers before me and go by my first and middle initial. Think about it. C.S. Lewis, R.C. Sproul, G.K. Chesterton, C.J. Mahaney, J.I. Packer, A.W. Tozer, C.H. Spurgeon–the list goes on and on. Yes, if I’m to be a serious thinker, R.M. Menter must be my moniker.

But that’s where the difficulty comes in. What do we actually know all these fellows as? We refer to them as Lewis, Sproul, Chesterton, Mahaney. And I don’t want to be Menter.

I was born a Menter and I’m proud to be a Menter. Our family took three generations to come up with sons–and two Menter women retained their names while their husbands took on the Menter name. But now that Menters have found out how to have boys, there are plenty to keep the name alive. I have four brothers and nine male Menter cousins. They can carry on the Menter name for posterity.

My aunt kept her name–and that’s just fine. My great-aunt died still a Menter. I know not the fates of the generations of Menter women before (apart from the two illustrious women who kept their names in Germany to keep the family line going.) I, however, would rather not keep the Menter name. I’d rather surrender it to be a missus, to be known by new name, to build another lineage.

I want a new name. I’ve toyed with Bek Menter, with bekahcubed. But now I feel the need for a new name. RM Menter, unfortunately, is not going to cut it. And I fear that taking on a true pseudonym will not satisfy me either.

Because I fear that all my name play, my pseudonymous jangling, is less a longing for a new name alone but a longing for a new life. A life where my role is wife. A life where my role is mother. A life where I proudly bear the name “Mrs. Blankety-Blank”.

Thinking about God

March 2nd, 2010

I mentioned last December, when I reviewed The Lord’s Supper: Five Views edited by Gordon Smith, that I had let my theological muscles grow flabby from misuse. I’ve also noticed, in my jaunts around the bookie blog-o-sphere, that my reading is lacking in one area: I don’t read much on God, on doctrine, on theology. What’s more, while I think for a living as a dietitian, a graduate student, and a teaching assistant, there’s one thing I’ve somehow stopped thinking about. I’ve stopped thinking about God.

I didn’t make any New Year’s Resolutions this year, but I have developed a goal of sorts, an emphasis for the year. I want to think about God this year. I want to exercise my mind towards the things of God. I want my mind to be renewed, my thoughts to be transformed by His thoughts. I want to become theologically buff.

So I’ve been reading, I’ve been listening, I’ve been digging in Scripture. And I’ve been thinking.

I can’t say that my thoughts are anything profound, but I’ve enjoyed trying to wrap my mind around the greatness of God, His mercy, His nature, His character. I’ve enjoyed thinking about God.

One night, I could barely sleep because I was thinking so much–and because I kept rolling over to turn on my bedside lamp so I could jot down a new thought. I figured I’d share a little of my late-night musings about God with you.

On God delighting in Himself:

We say that God delights in truth, but since God is truth (John 14:7), isn’t this the same as to say that God delights in Himself?

On purpose:

God has a purpose in what He does, but He cannot or does not have purpose in who He is. Unlike man, God is not created. He was not created to fulfill a specific function, as man was.

God has no purpose for existing except that He is. His purpose is simply to be who He is.

A non-created being is not a “functional item” designed for a specific purpose. He just is–and everything else, every created being, derives its function from who He is.

Because we are created beings, we have a specific reason for our existence. We exist for a specific purpose set by our creator (for His glory, to display His image.) God, however, was not created. He has reasons for doing things–but not a reason for existing. He simply exists. He is.

Therefore, the purposes of God in what He does are not linked to a higher goal, per se, but to His nature. He acts as an overflow of who He is and to reveal Himself. Because His “function”, His “purpose” is “to be”. I am, He calls Himself. He is not the rain god, the sun god, the moon god. He is. He is not defined by a function, but by His being.

I have a purpose for being. God just is.

He is because He is. I am because He is. He is the purpose, the meaning behind all that is–including Himself. His reason for existing? To be. He exists because He exists.

So why does God act as He does? He acts out of His reason for existing “I am”. He acts as He does because of who He is, and in order to reveal who He is.

It’s nothing profound. It’s certainly nothing polished–just the musings of a girl whose mind is coming out of its sleep. Just the musings of a mind newly awakened to explore the depths of her Lord.

My mind was made to behold His glory. He is to be beheld. How delightful to let my mind begin to fulfill its purpose. And, as the card on my wall says “When anything in creation fulfills its purpose, it brings glory to God.” And that is indeed my ultimate purpose–to bring glory to God with every fiber of my being, including my mind.

Assurance and Trust

February 6th, 2010

It’s amazing how you can read something or sing something a hundred times, but it can continue to have new meaning each and every time.

A little over a month ago, I was overwhelmed by the task that seemed to be looming before me, fearful for what the future might bring. And when I sat down to sing some old hymns, the fifth verse of “Trust and Obey” struck me.

Then in fellowship sweet,
we will sit at His feet,
Or we’ll walk by His side in the way
What He says we will do
Where He sends we will go
Never fear, only trust and obey.

He relieved my fears and gave me grace to trust Him for that particular path.

Now He has blocked the way along that particular path.

And new verses comfort my soul.

Not a burden we bear
Not a sorrow we share
But our toil He doth richly repay
Not a grief nor a loss
Not a frown nor a cross
But is blest if we trust and obey.

But we never can prove
the delights of His love
Until all on the altar we lay
For the favor He shows
and the joy He bestows
Are for them who will trust and obey.

I don’t want to lay my heart, my desire on the altar. It truly is a sorrow, a grief, a loss. But if, in giving this up, I can somehow prove the delights of His love, then surely my loss is not in vain. I will choose, despite the pain, to trust and obey.

Today, I moved from “Trust and Obey” to the nearby songs, categorized under the heading “Assurance and Trust”.

And God ministered to my broken soul through the words of “Be Still, My Soul.”

Be still, my soul!
The Lord is on thy side
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain
Leave to thy God to order and provide
In every change, He faithful will remain
Be still my soul
Thy best, thy heavenly friend
Thro thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

God IS for me (Romans 8:31). He is faithful (I Thessalonians 5:24). He will work all things (even my pain) together for good (Romans 8:28). I can be still. I can trust Him–in every change.

Be still, my soul
thy God doth undertake
to guide the future as He has the past
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake
All now mysterious shall be bright at last
Be still my soul
The waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below

God does not change (Hebrews 13:8). He was sovereign yesterday, and He is still sovereign today. Even though I don’t understand why, He does. And the circumstances are still under His power.

So be still, be still my soul. Rest in the arms of your Creator, your Pursuer, your Lover. Amidst the sorrow of this world, take delight in His unfailing grace. Find rest in Him alone.

From the valley

February 2nd, 2010

Would I give up the peaks
if in doing so,
I could save myself the valleys?
Would I surrender the heights
to never experience the depths?
Never feel sublime pleasure
so that I might never mourn its loss?

Would I walk forever in twilight
so as to never experience
the burning light of midday
or the anguished dark of night?

Would I give up joy
for a chance to not feel grief?

To live life without the superlative,
no extremes of highs or lows
The thought tempts my mind
when I sit near the bottom

But I have experienced the even
the world without feeling
I have tasted of the stupor
that allows neither hot nor cold

My choice instead shall be
to follow my Savior
where e’re He leads

whether beside the still waters
or to the valley of the shadow of death

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away
I shall bless His name

LPs. Records. Memories.

January 29th, 2010

I was born in the 80s, a child of the 90s, coming of age in the millennium. But my heart belongs to an earlier day–or more like many earlier days.

Nothing takes me back to my childhood (and beyond) like the sound of the earliest Christian rock, 70s rock–the likes of Larry Norman and Randy Stonehill.

My mom and dad’s LPs that we listened to endlessly.

Larry Norman’s “In Another Land” (1975):

Turning back the table once again to enjoy our favorites.

“He’s a rock that doesn’t roll
He’s a rock that doesn’t roll
Well He’s good for the body
and great for the soul
He’s a rock that doesn’t roll!”

“He’s an unidentified flyin’ object
You will see Him in the air…
And if there’s life on other planets
Then I’m sure that He must know
and He’s been there once already
and has died to save their souls.”

And of course, trying our hand at the glorious harmonies of “Righteous Rocker #3″ while Mom tells us stories of her college buddies who would break out into harmony while walking through campus.

“You can be a righteous rocker
Or a holy roller
You can be most anything
You could be a child of a slum
Or a skidrow bum
You can be an earthly king
But without love
you ain’t nothing
Without love
Without love you ain’t nothin’
Without love.”

Chuck Girard’s “Chuck Girard” (1975):

Crying for the girl from Tinagera. Crying in worship to “Sometimes Alleluia”. Walkin’ by the Sea, the Sea of Galilee. Rockin’ out to “Rock’n'Roll Preacher.”

Randy Stonehill’s “Welcome to Paradise” (1976):

Already a budding health activist, belting out the lyrics to “Lung Cancer”.

“She went down to the corner store
And bought a pack of filter kings
Don’t you know tomorrow she’ll be back for more
Cause she really likes to smoke those things
And every time that she inhales a cloud of that cigarette smoke
She’s just one step closer to the man in black
And 60 cents closer to broke
She’s been working on lung cancer,
Emphysema, a cardiac arrest…
She’s been smokin’ that C-I-G-A-R-E-T-T-E”

Meanwhile, Anna and Josh enjoyed the much more beautiful and poetic “Puppet Strings”.

“We are all foolish puppets
Who, desiring to be king,
Now lie pitifully crippled
after cutting all our strings.
But God said I’ll forgive you
and face you man to man
And win your love again.
O how can there be possibly
a greater gift of love
Than dying for a friend?”

2nd Chapter of Acts’ “Mansion Builder” (1978):

Joshua singing Matthew to Anna’s Annie, harmonizing beautifully to “Mansion Builder”.

“So why should I worry?
Why should I fret?
‘Cause I’ve got a mansion-builder
Who ain’t through with me yet.”

Lamb’s “Lamb I” (1972):

Joshua singing along with his favorite band, his child’s voice mingling with Joel Chernoff’s tenor:

“The sacrifice lamb has been slain
His blood on the altar a stain
To wipe away guilt and pain,
To bring hope eternal.
Salvation has come to the world;
God’s only Son to the world;
Jesus the One for the world–
Yeshua is He.”

The songs that take me back, that make me remember the wholehearted enthusiasm of three little children digging through Mom and Dad’s records. The songs that remind me of the days when we spent hours luxuriating in melody and harmony and rhythm. When we pored over the record sleeves, enjoying the long-haired hippyness of the Jesus-music, enjoying the poetry and occasional childishness of the lyrics and tunes.

These artists created Christian music as we know it today. They were decried as singing “devil music” because the music was syncopated–a Gothard anathema. They started their own labels to create a niche for themselves, unwilling to “let the devil have all the good music” (in the words of Larry Norman). And so began Christian rock.

But we have forgotten them along the way, now in our world where Christian music is ordinary, mundane, (in my opinion) boring. It wasn’t always this way. Once upon a day, the idea of Christian rock and roll was revolutionary. These were the pioneers. They dared to think that modern music could be a medium for the Christian artist. And they created true art. The art that fed my child soul.

Our Shared Addiction

January 22nd, 2010

Although scientists have struggled to discover precise genes for addictions, it is generally recognized that certain addictions tend to run in families. Alcoholism. Nicotine addiction. Addiction to elicit drugs.

Just like most issues ascribed to genetics, the question always arises–is it nature or nurture? Do I act like my family acts because it is hard-wired into me or because I learn it from my family? I don’t know. Scientists don’t know. It’s been debated for years.

My family might be said to have an addiction. At least, my father and I share a common addiction. We’re both “information junkies”. We like to be surrounded by information constantly–whether reading it, listening to it on talk radio, discussing it with a friend, or watching a documentary. Give me information.

Cut off from information, I go through withdrawal–I start to twitch and make random noises. :-)

Thankfully, information is readily available at my local library, online, and across the yard at my parents’ house. So I rarely have to experience withdrawal.

You might say it’s genetic. My dad is a notorious information junkie.

But maybe it’s nurture. I grew up listening to Ravi Zacharias on the way to church, Rush Limbaugh on errands, and RTB Radio Podcasts while my dad showered in the room next door. I remember watching coverage of the Gulf War after dinner on the little television we took out of the closet expressly for that purpose. My family had (still has) three sets of encyclopedias. I read them regularly.

Nature or nurture, I’m an addict. So is my dad.

He got me hooked at a young age, as I took sips from the deep glasses he drank from. The encyclopedias acted as a gateway drug, the library my nearest pusher. Soon I was a full-fledged addict. Our drug choices and routes of delivery diverged throughout my teen years, although we still took time to snort together.

But now, again, we have come to share in our addiction freely.

I read blogs, a great variety. My dad reads blogs, mostly news, science, and politics. In Instapundit, we have again found a shared addiction.

“Did you read that article by the Instawife?” Dad asks.

I ask for a bit more description. I checked Insta early that morning–this hadn’t been posted until the afternoon. Dad catches me up on the latest.

“What do you think of that piece on electric cars?” I ask him right back.

We discuss nuclear energy, Supreme court rulings, male empowerment, and liberal extremism–all sparked by our new common link.

Maybe it runs in families, maybe it’s just us–but information is our shared addiction, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Goal-oriented Gal

January 18th, 2010

“If I could do a tenth of what you do…” my dad told me in the car yesterday.

I couldn’t help but be confused. I don’t know what sparked the comment. We hadn’t been discussing busyness or schedules or goals or anything.

He clarified his thoughts (a little). “You’re so goal oriented. Almost to a fault. I just can’t imagine doing as much as you do.”

I still don’t know what brought on his observation, but he’s probably right.

I am a massively goal-oriented person. I figure out what I want to do and I find a way to get it done. My list of Life Goals is dozens of pages long (and I’ve only included some of my life goals online.) And though many of my goals are undone, incomplete, or in progress, I have managed to accomplish quite a deal in my first quarter century of life.

The difficulty enters in my dad’s second comment: “Almost to a fault.” He wasn’t meaning it as a criticism. He wasn’t putting me down. But I am aware that one of my greatest strengths is also one of my greatest weaknesses.

I am goal-oriented. It means that I get things done. I accomplish a lot. I have lived a life rich with experiences and accomplishments (even for someone only a quarter of a century old).

But sometimes my goals distract me from the greater purpose in life. The purpose that can’t be formulated as a specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and timely (SMART) goal. The purpose of glorifying God. The purpose of walking in relationship with Him and others.

Too busy with my blog, I neglect the Word. I bow out of relationship because I’m too busy getting something done.

It’s a dangerous road, a fine line that I must learn to walk.

I believe that it is to God’s glory that I enjoy life. It is to His glory that I accomplish things. He is glorified when I use my goal-oriented personality.

But He is not glorified when I follow my goals rather than His Spirit. He is not glorified when I choose things over people. He is not glorified in my becoming internally focused.

I must learn, somehow, to use my temperament to glorify God–to be goal oriented, yes, but not to a fault. I may be goal-oriented, but above that I must be God-oriented.

That is the ultimate goal–but the one that is most difficult in its accomplishment.

Reflections on 2009

December 28th, 2009

2009 has been a year of completions and of new beginnings (as perhaps every year is, when all is said and done.)

This year, I completed my six year quest to become a Registered Dietitian. After my long years of undergraduate school, overgraduate school :-), internship, and test anxiety, I am finally Rebekah Menter, RD, LMNT.

This year, two of my best friends completed their PA training and moved from my house to their own respective houses hours away. My sister is no longer my roommate, for (almost) the first time since I was born. She’s moving on, into the things God has prepared for her.

This year, after years of watching Dan and Debbie move from childhood crushes to friends to girlfriend and boyfriend, my dreams (and theirs) are coming to a culmination: we will welcome Debbie into the Menter family in June of 2010.

This year, after years of anxiously tugging on God’s shirt, begging for a chance to pursue a relationship with a man, God has said that the time is right. And so I venture into the unknown world of courtship myself.

But one thing has not changed this year. He who began the good work in me continues to be faithful. When I reach the bottom, He lifts my head. When I almost reach the sky, He is the tether that lets me fly. When I am at the end of myself, He is all-sufficient. He who began the good work in me is faithful to complete it. Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on (by His grace), that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has already laid hold of me…Forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

The Christmas Haul

December 25th, 2009

Allow me to be the first to affirm that Christmas is NOT all about presents. But I have found myself amazed in recent years by the gifts I’ve received. Not because the gifts were absolutely spectacular in their own right, or because I’m all about getting new things–but because of the way the gifts I’ve received reflect the love and care of my family.

This year, I got…

  • A funnel, a filter wrench, and a oil pan from John
    The oil pan is probably the coolest thing ever. It’s ginormous, but it collects all the oil INSIDE of it, and can be sealed so it won’t spill while waiting to be disposed of. Then, when it’s time to dispose of the oil? The pan has a convenient spout for disposal. Say goodbye to messy oil changes–I’ve got all the tools to make it easy as pie!
  • Camelpack
    Time to start training for that big bike ride across Nebraska! And for me, hydration is key. Now I can do it in style.
  • Two puzzles
    Payback, I’m sure, for the many years I’ve bought “the fam” puzzles for Christmas. Now it’s time to get some of my own done!
  • A trash can for my recycling
    I’ve had a bucket in my kitchen for collecting recyclables. Now I can upgrade to a trash can thanks to John–who generally ridicules recycling but cares about me enough to get me what I care about.
  • Double 15 dominoes
    Every household should have a set, and since Anna moved out, my household’s been without. Thanks, Mom and Dad!
  • A utensil tray
    I’ve been keeping my silverware in a little cardboard box since Anna moved out. Now I have a proper utensil tray so I can keep everything divided. What’s more, my mom found it at the used store! (I appreciate my mom’s thriftiness and care. While all of us received new gifts from Mom and Dad, we also received gifts Mom found at used stores. The used gifts were far from second-rate. They were exactly what we needed/wanted–and were obtained in a way that doesn’t break my parent’s bank. My dad’s compliment is true: My mother is like a merchant ship, bringing her gifts from afar.)
  • Shampoo and barrettes
    Funny gift, you might think. But for me, not at all. I ask for “practical gifts” every year, and am supremely thankful when somebody takes up the call and gets them. You see, I HATE buying shampoo, deodorant, and the like. They’re necessary, so you don’t want to run out. Yet they’re expensive at the grocery store, so buying them generally means a trip to a different store–a WHOLE separate trip, since I rarely buy anything except food. So shampoo is the PERFECT gift.
  • A kitchen decorating ideas book
    For me books + home = love. Grace knew this and planned ahead to get me a book from the library book sale.
  • A picture for my walls
    Mom found it at a used store. It has a Bible verse on it. My living area walls suffered most when Anna left. She had so many wonderful wall decorations. Now I’m building up my own collection.
  • A bookshelf
    My current two (and a half) are stuffed full, and bowing because of the weight of my books. My “little” box of books that don’t fit in the shelves is currently overflowing. But not for much longer. Soon I shall have a bookshelf in my room. I’m excited to move all my Bible study tools up to my room, where I generally do my Bible study. It’ll be much nicer to have easy access instead of having to run downstairs.
  • The promise of another bookshelf
    Joshua has promised to make me another bookshelf (and was a bit disappointed when I received one under the tree.) But I have PLENTY of use for new bookshelves, and I’m excited to see what Josh comes up with. He’s quite a handy guy, if I do say so myself.

Beyond the physical gifts under the tree, I received a few more intangible gifts.

  • A delightful family candle-light service when our church one got canceled
    We packed into the “conservatory” while Anna played William and led us in Christmas carols. Dad and John and I had a bit of an out-loud each other contest during one, probably bringing the others’ eardrums almost to a breaking point (in my favor, my part in the “contest” was unintentional–I just don’t have the greatest concept of my volume while singing.) We lit our candles for Silent Night and sung sweetly in the almost dark.
  • The addition of a fourth girl to the family festivities
    Debbie evens us out at four girls and four boys (for the time being). She joined us for our celebration this year, and blushed massively at some of the gifts she received from my brothers. Their goal in their gifts to her this year was “cherry cheeks”–and they succeeded pretty well. Welcome to the family, Debbie–I can’t wait to have you for a sister-in-law.
  • The boys let me take their pictures
    As the family historian, keeper of the family photos, and (more) regular photo snapper, I am somewhat of an annoyance to my family. I insist on chronicling the exciting and the mundane, pulling out my camera at what they consider to be inopportune times (read, anytime). But last night, they (mostly) let me take photos in peace. John even POSED for a few photos. It’s pretty much a miracle.
  • The girls had patience with my distraction during a game of Mexican train
    Timothy announced that I’d missed a text message just as we were about to start our game of Mexican train. I broke my personal rules and texted back during our first few rounds of the game. I enjoyed the text exchange–and I appreciated my family’s tolerance for my somewhat unusual behavior of late ;-).

And the greatest Christmas “haul”?

Yesterday I read these words–an unusual Christmas passage, but an amazing one nonetheless:

“For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

“ O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?”

The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

(I Corinthians 15:53-57)

At Christmas, we celebrate Christ the immortal, who put on our mortality. Christ the incorruptible who put on our corruption. Christ, who is life, who submitted Himself to death. And why? He did so in order that we who are corrupt could put on incorruption. He did so in order that we who are mortal could put on immortality. He did so in order that we who are creatures of sin and death could obtain victory over the same THROUGH OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST.

Now thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

**Okay, so I was planning to upload those Christmas pictures, but my computer’s acting funny about recognizing my camera today. It goes on funks every so often, so I’m not too worried. More later–for now I’m gonna go back over to the folks and (find my Bible and) spend some time with the family.**