I find this verse to give a particularly fresh perspective in today's fast-paced, worry-filled culture:
As pressure and stress bear down on me,
I find joy in your commands.
Psalm 119:143 (NLT)
The typical church atmosphere today is such that attendees are conditioned to put money into an offering plate and consider this to be a pretty decent way to spread the Gospel. hether intended or not, this method of helping, if it is the primary focus, keeps the average church-attender from actually meeting and connecting to needy people and it tells him that money is his best gift or good deed.
In the old days, Superman could move planets. As if that weren't enough, he could move multiple planets at once. Heck, he could even do this as a teenager! Somewhere along the line, the writers decided that this just wasn't believable enough, I guess, so they brought his powers down to a more realistic ensemble. You know, flying, heat vision, super-cold breath... the more normal things.
How many fellowships are apathetic and complacent, perched in the middle of hurting communities and not lifting a finger to help, but instead singing songs one day a week about how good it is not to be a part of the riff-raff on the outside? Isn't it time we redeemed ourselves by our actions?
When we're challenged or confronted with an argument about contradiction in Scripture, sometimes we can be taken completely off-guard. One of the worst responses in this kind of situation is simply to say, "I just take the Bible on faith," and dismiss the challenge as being made by an ignorant Christian-hater. The fact is, most of the time it's not the Bible we're taking on faith. Often it's the teaching of someone who pieced together some verses to bolster a themed speech.
So, for example, on a given day I might be playing a Nat King Cole CD on my boom box at a relaxing volume of, say, 60 decibels (the typical volume of a normal conversation), but if I really wanted to, I could crank it up to an ear-splitting, rock-concert volume of 120 decibels before my boom box started going all buzzy and crackly, blowing speakers and what-not. (Doing the math, that's 60dB of headroom.)
Several years ago I went to a restaurant (one that's now out of business, for some reason) with a few friends. I'd heard good things about it. I ordered my food, with coffee to drink. The guy next to me ordered chicken.
The first morning after I went back to my original wake-up time a few days ago, I was on my second cup of coffee and thought, "Wow... I feel horrible!" I tried to assess whether or not I was coming down with the flu, since I'd had some of those symptoms a few days earlier. Thankfully, I was able to rule that out -- my wife says I'm a horrible patient (but I don't belive that; it's got to be her imagination). Then I tried to think of the foods I'd eaten the night before that might be contributing to my rotten feeling-ness, but I could think of nothing out of the ordinary.
I'm not looking for the deeper psychological meaning of the dream, and I don't intend to pick it to pieces. It just brings to mind how worry can taint a person's outlook. In much the same way that the the events in my dream never happened but are still the cause of mental overhead, worry is the process of holding on to baggage as a "result" of things that have not occurred.
So, for example, on a given day I might be playing a Nat King Cole CD on my boom box at a relaxing volume of, say, 60 decibels (the typical volume of a normal conversation), but if I really wanted to, I could crank it up to an ear-splitting, rock-concert volume of 120 decibels before my boom box started going all buzzy and crackly, blowing speakers and what-not. (Doing the math, that's 60dB of headroom.)
Seriously, the peculiar thing about it is that I don't even know that the condition exists until I remove myself from any noise. The tinnitus is so slight that even the gentle hum of a ceiling fan (or the tick-tick-tick if it's on "do-not-turn-me-up-this-high" speed and the blades aren't balanced) masks it. The fan inside my computer is loud enough to cover it up, and of course music (loud or soft) prevents me from knowing the condition is there.
So, back to the worship time... I was sucked into something like the Total Perspective Vortex that morning: my situation compared to that of Jesus. He was mentally preparing to have nails brutally driven through His wrists in service to God and humankind, and I was mentally preparing to play the guitar (using only three or four chords -- maybe that needs to be addressed in a blog) and sing praises with a crowd of people in service to God and humankind.