I had my choice between going to church with Nikki or going to church with Melia.
Really, I was just happy to get to worship with my friends on a Wednesday night.
It was decided I'd go with Nikki so we could spend some extra time together before I had to leave.
The Bible study was good. I learned. I saw the congregation's hunger for the Lord, even though they make my grandparents look young. I enjoyed time with my friend and listening to her pastor teach. It was good.
When we got home, Melia was in awe of what happened at her church. The more she spoke, the more I realized I made the wrong decision. The scripture, the truths, the presentation seemed like God had hand-crafted that sermon for me... and I wasn't there.
I didn't ask why. Rather, I was upset.
God, why wasn't I there? You had the power to put me there. I was torn on which church to attend. It would have been very easy for the conclusion to have been the opposite, and I would have clearly seen Your hand.
I don't know why I wasn't there. Maybe because Nikki and I needed some bonding time. Maybe I needed to be encouraged by the old people eager to hear the Word. Maybe the they needed to be encouraged by us youngin's. Maybe "Uncle Bill" needed a new listener for his "the dog ate my hearing aid" story. Maybe Melia needed to summarize the sermon for me.
Maybe it was selfish for me to have wished the evening had gone differently.
Do you ever do that? Tell God He's the focus of your night but then get upset when He doesn't do what you wanted Him to do?
Guilty,
<>< Katie
PS: This post has nothing to do with Koolaid. But it happens to be what I am drinking right now, and I could not come up with a better title.
Showing posts with label mad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mad. Show all posts
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Guilty Getting Gas
Sometimes I have a problem with the "You are now entering the mission field" signs on the edge of church parking lots. Can the church property not also be a mission field? Yet sometimes we need that reminder. Sometimes we forget worship does not conclude when we leave the parking lot.
I forgot that on Sunday.
After church and lunch, we said goodbye to the youth who had touched our lives for the last two days and prepared for our three-hour journey back to school.
First stop: gas station.
The university keeps a gas card in the twelve-passenger van was I driving. I plugged in the card and it said, "See attendant."
Trip into the gas station number one. She told me to try it again and if it didn't work I could pay inside after I filled up.
Back at the pump, it didn't work a second time. I filled up the van and went inside to pay.
Trip into the gas station number two. We ran the card and it was denied. We ran it again, still denied. We ran it as debit, but I didn't have a PIN.
Back at the van, I called Heather. No answer. We called Kevin. He said he didn't know the PIN and told us to call Neal. Neal was apologetic that we hadn't been given the PIN before we left campus.
Trip into the gas station number three. On the phone with Neal, I punched in the PIN he gave me. Still no luck.
That's when I started to get short with him. It was out of frustration but that didn't make it right. Had I learned nothing on our weekend of living to worship? I could have been worshipping at the gas station... thanking God that we had gas to fill up the van, that our only snafu was a misbehaving gas card, and the ability to reach someone who was willing to help us on a Sunday afternoon while he was spending time with his family. I could have been courteous to the attendant and the man on the phone.
Getting mad at Neal wasn't worship. In fact, it was the opposite. It was getting cranky with someone who was trying to help.
The chorus of the Casting Crowns's song "The Altar and the Door" saying, "I will not lose my follow through between the altar and the door." Not forgetting everything we learned in church between when we leave the sanctuary and when we, as the sign in the parking lot says, enter the mission field. Instead, we should take what we've learned home with us and implement it into our lives.
Well, fail, Katie.
I lost a fight with a gas card and I lost my worship mindset. A mile from the church and I had two apologies to make: one to Neal and one to God.
Thankful for forgiveness,
<>< Katie
PS: On the fourth trip into the gas station, I paid out of pocket and was reimbursed when we made it safely back to campus.
I forgot that on Sunday.
After church and lunch, we said goodbye to the youth who had touched our lives for the last two days and prepared for our three-hour journey back to school.
First stop: gas station.
The university keeps a gas card in the twelve-passenger van was I driving. I plugged in the card and it said, "See attendant."
Trip into the gas station number one. She told me to try it again and if it didn't work I could pay inside after I filled up.
Back at the pump, it didn't work a second time. I filled up the van and went inside to pay.
Trip into the gas station number two. We ran the card and it was denied. We ran it again, still denied. We ran it as debit, but I didn't have a PIN.
Back at the van, I called Heather. No answer. We called Kevin. He said he didn't know the PIN and told us to call Neal. Neal was apologetic that we hadn't been given the PIN before we left campus.
Trip into the gas station number three. On the phone with Neal, I punched in the PIN he gave me. Still no luck.
That's when I started to get short with him. It was out of frustration but that didn't make it right. Had I learned nothing on our weekend of living to worship? I could have been worshipping at the gas station... thanking God that we had gas to fill up the van, that our only snafu was a misbehaving gas card, and the ability to reach someone who was willing to help us on a Sunday afternoon while he was spending time with his family. I could have been courteous to the attendant and the man on the phone.
Getting mad at Neal wasn't worship. In fact, it was the opposite. It was getting cranky with someone who was trying to help.
The chorus of the Casting Crowns's song "The Altar and the Door" saying, "I will not lose my follow through between the altar and the door." Not forgetting everything we learned in church between when we leave the sanctuary and when we, as the sign in the parking lot says, enter the mission field. Instead, we should take what we've learned home with us and implement it into our lives.
Well, fail, Katie.
I lost a fight with a gas card and I lost my worship mindset. A mile from the church and I had two apologies to make: one to Neal and one to God.
Thankful for forgiveness,
<>< Katie
PS: On the fourth trip into the gas station, I paid out of pocket and was reimbursed when we made it safely back to campus.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Potter
Tuesday wasn't exactly a great day. There was nothing major that went wrong and a lot of good things happened but it was kind of one of those days. It wasn't until the fourth person asked me if I was ok that I realized I had let the "one of those days" mentality take over. Of course, then I was mad. At myself. After being out of bed for five minutes this morning I knew it was going to be one of those days. I had the opportunity to make it a good day with some bad events rather than a bad day with some good events. And I failed.
At our Tuesday night worship service my friend Brad spoke. Now Brad's a potter so his "speaking" was really giving us a visual of Jeremiah 18. He made a tall jug out of clay and then smashed it. I knew ahead of time he was going to do that, but it was still cool to see all of his hard work smashed. He reformed the exact same clay and made a bowl instead.
Brad: See, this bowl a whole lot better, more practical than the tall, long thing that I didn't really know what it was.
Andy: That’s what they called me in high school.
Katie: Tall, long thing no one really knows what it is?
Amy: Katie, did you get that, too?
Andy: And they called Amy a bowl thing.
Each one of us is different but each one of us is going to be used. Maybe right now I’m in a tall, long shape where I’m stuck in the old way rather than the new form. That doesn't mean I cannot be used or reformed. In fact, today is Wednesday and I am the same piece of clay I was on Tuesday, but I am willing to let the Potter shape me in a new way. Are you?
"Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?" Romans 9:21
<>< Katie
At our Tuesday night worship service my friend Brad spoke. Now Brad's a potter so his "speaking" was really giving us a visual of Jeremiah 18. He made a tall jug out of clay and then smashed it. I knew ahead of time he was going to do that, but it was still cool to see all of his hard work smashed. He reformed the exact same clay and made a bowl instead.
Brad: See, this bowl a whole lot better, more practical than the tall, long thing that I didn't really know what it was.
Andy: That’s what they called me in high school.
Katie: Tall, long thing no one really knows what it is?
Amy: Katie, did you get that, too?
Andy: And they called Amy a bowl thing.
Each one of us is different but each one of us is going to be used. Maybe right now I’m in a tall, long shape where I’m stuck in the old way rather than the new form. That doesn't mean I cannot be used or reformed. In fact, today is Wednesday and I am the same piece of clay I was on Tuesday, but I am willing to let the Potter shape me in a new way. Are you?
"Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?" Romans 9:21
<>< Katie
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Broken Glass
"You cannot say you've never had the urge to throw a glass against a fireplace," my family said, almost in unison, as all eyes fell on my aunt.
I thought for a second about the question.
Honestly, no. I haven't ever had the urge to throw a glass against a fireplace much less the lack of self control to act on such an impulse. Sure, I've wanted to throw people against walls and sometimes I've thrown other things but never a glass. It'll break.
"You're never so frustrated you just need to break something?" The family continued.
Sure but not glass. Perhaps it's because my mother spent most of my childhood walking behind me, "Don't touch broken glass. Don't walk in the street barefoot just in case there's broken glass. Leave the broken glass alone. You don't want to cut yourself." Grandma has the scar to prove broken glass isn't something I want to be playing with.
"Yes," my aunt confessed. She once threw a glass against the wall out of frustration, "But then I was even more mad because I had a big mess to clean up!" Broken glass is pretty common at her house. When she and my uncle buy wine glasses they always buy two and without fail one is broken on the first use. We tease at her house no one needs individual charms to identify wine glasses everyone just gets an unique glass because no two glasses are the same.
Everyone else concluded the mess isn't a problem for them. Cleaning it up helps relieve the frustration (until they cut themselves and then they're re-living the frustration, I'm sure).
"Dad throws glasses against the fireplace all of the time," Grandma said.
"Once... MAYBE twice," Grandpa defended himself. This made everyone laugh remembering a similar conversation a few years ago. When my mom and her siblings were growing up my grandpa sneezed egg all over the wall. According to my aunt, this was a weekly occurrence. My mom realizes not quite weekly but quite often. Grandpa, on the other hand, swears it only happened once. Just like he only threw the glass against the wall once.
<>< Katie
I thought for a second about the question.
Honestly, no. I haven't ever had the urge to throw a glass against a fireplace much less the lack of self control to act on such an impulse. Sure, I've wanted to throw people against walls and sometimes I've thrown other things but never a glass. It'll break.
"You're never so frustrated you just need to break something?" The family continued.
Sure but not glass. Perhaps it's because my mother spent most of my childhood walking behind me, "Don't touch broken glass. Don't walk in the street barefoot just in case there's broken glass. Leave the broken glass alone. You don't want to cut yourself." Grandma has the scar to prove broken glass isn't something I want to be playing with.
"Yes," my aunt confessed. She once threw a glass against the wall out of frustration, "But then I was even more mad because I had a big mess to clean up!" Broken glass is pretty common at her house. When she and my uncle buy wine glasses they always buy two and without fail one is broken on the first use. We tease at her house no one needs individual charms to identify wine glasses everyone just gets an unique glass because no two glasses are the same.
Everyone else concluded the mess isn't a problem for them. Cleaning it up helps relieve the frustration (until they cut themselves and then they're re-living the frustration, I'm sure).
"Dad throws glasses against the fireplace all of the time," Grandma said.
"Once... MAYBE twice," Grandpa defended himself. This made everyone laugh remembering a similar conversation a few years ago. When my mom and her siblings were growing up my grandpa sneezed egg all over the wall. According to my aunt, this was a weekly occurrence. My mom realizes not quite weekly but quite often. Grandpa, on the other hand, swears it only happened once. Just like he only threw the glass against the wall once.
<>< Katie
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