So I've been thinking about the "Who do you say that I am?" question some more. Peter answers "You are the Christ" which of course is the right answer, revealed to him by the Holy Spirit, but despite this, on hearing Jesus explain that He will have to die, Peter rebukes him and gets rebuked back.
So I have to ask myself, what does knowing who Jesus is really mean? Paul's recent memory verse was John 15:14: "You are my friends if you do what I command." We talked about that in the car - if your own friends say that, it's not okay. It's just mean for a human friend to say "You can't be my friend if you don't do what I want."
But it's okay for God to say that, because what he commands is always good and for our good. It doesn't work the other way around. If we believe His is really God, we don't try to tell Him what to do, we ask what He wants us to do.
Which leads me back to part I of the theme verses for me - Rejoice evermore; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
Did you catch that phrase tucked in there? “This is the will of God.” So why do I keep forgetting to be thankful? I want to be his friend; I want to do what he commands; I want to be thankful.
1And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.
2And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?
3Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.
This comforts me and makes me mad and frightens me.
Whatever our issues are, it's for God to resolve for his own purposes - that's comforting.
The guy was blind from birth, waiting for Jesus to pass by on that particular day? - that...I really have a hard time with.
God's way of showing his glory does not have to fit my preconceptions (this angle is more noticeable in the light of chapter 8 where people are trying to figure out who He is, and they keep kind of missing the point) - that opens up vistas so wide they give me vertigo, and kind of scare me.
Must go get cinnamon rolls ready for tomorrow...must do it. It sounded like such a good idea about three hours ago. But now I want to sleep. Or read till I fall asleep. Wah. At least I got some laundry done today (and even some folded - yay!) and I walked for more than an hour (again with the Yay!). But now I will get cinnamon rolls ready for my boy who is turning nine years old tomorrow morning around 10 am.
Where are my writing teacher people, homeschool or otherwise? Do you know about NANOWRIMO? I don't know how you would squeeze this into an already crammed teaching schedule, but it looks amazing. I want to teach writing just to do this. Maybe next year.
Tonight as I was getting a pot roast ready for the crock-pot (because soccer practice will run till five tomorrow afternoon, and I will be tired and cranky after free-way rush hour traffic on the way home) memories unwound in my mind's eye, brought on by the smell of onion and sound of carrots cut up and look of potato and meat nestled together.
I remember the first crock-pot meal after Paul was born, not ready by dinner time, so we let it cook on low all-night and ate pot roast for breakfast. It smelled so good when we got up, and it was delicious! We were probably starved for protein and iron.
I remember the last crock-pot meal just days before Paul was born, prepared to be ready whenever Bruce's dad and Aunt and Uncle came through town just after his mom died. My own mom helped me get the meat ready to put in, so I learned about browning the roast before slow-cooking it. I remember that it was received so well I kept thinking, "they must be really hungry!" And of course they were. Stress and grief sometimes show up that way.
I remember my grandmother making pot roast with carrots and onions and potatoes. Oh, those potatoes! I wish mine would turn out so golden-delicious-savory like that. I remember her watching with admiration and satisfaction as my dad ate her cooking. I remember sitting at her table, passing food to family, delighted with what was already in front of us and knowing that good dessert was yet to come.
I am blessed by the memories of these women and their teaching of the ministry of food.
I am blessed to know that my husband will be blessed tomorrow when he comes home and smells red meat and vegetables already prepared.
I pray that I can be part of a chain of love, passing on the practical and the spiritual lessons learned in the kitchen.