Whatever became of conviction?

9 August 2011

My son, do not despise the Lord’s discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights.  (Proverbs 3:11-12)

Please forgive me if this turns into a sermonette, but it’s something I’ve had on my mind.

A long time back, before my accidental spring/summer break from this blog, I wrote about being convicted by a couple of songs I’d heard consecutively on my MP3 player.  In combination, God used the two tunes to show me that I wasn’t living my life quite as well as He desired me to, mostly because I was often being selfish and doing what I wanted instead of what He wanted.  It’s a moment I think about still, and it causes me to re-examine my actions periodically.

But something happened after I wrote that — I got responses about it (not replies here, but elsewhere) from people I knew.  And the gist of most of them was, “don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re not supposed to be perfect, just relax in God’s love.”

Which isn’t bad advice, per se.  But to me, it did seem to miss a key point.

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A two-point sermon from my MP3 player

14 March 2011

I got really convicted by my MP3 player a few days ago.

I don’t have a very big MP3 player.  It’s a little SanDisk Sansa 4GB job, about the size of one of those old Zippos your grandpa used to light his cigarettes, and I’ve got maybe 300 songs loaded on it.  Mostly contemporary Christian songs (what can I say, that’s my joint), and all of them upbeat, since I originally got the Sansa to use while working out.  (I haven’t had much energy for that lately, but hope springs eternal …)

More recently, I’ve used it while giving my son Sean his baths.  See, Sean may be still recovering from Leigh’s disease (and for that recovery, Lord, much thanks!), but in many ways he is a typical 7-year-old — such as hating to take a bath.  He can’t speak, exactly, but he moans the entire time, and in a small echoing space (like, say, our bathroom) that can really wear on the ol’  nerves.  So rather than turning into Jack Nicholson from The Shining, I pop in the earbuds, drop the body of it into my shirt/pants pocket, and sing along to a) drown out the moaning and b) hopefully keep the Seanster Monster entertained.

And it was Friday, during bath time (specifically, while drying Sean off) that God, via the Sansa, hit me with a heckuva two-point sermon.

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Happy Distraction Day!

20 July 2009

I’m declaring a holiday today.  And I’m going to call it Distraction Day.

Now, this holiday will be different from most holidays, at least those in American culture.  Here in the U.S., holidays tend to be a time to take off from work, eat excessively, laze around (unless you’re the one cooking for those excessive eaters), and abandon one’s usual schedule of activities.  But Distraction Day will be different – it’s a day to get things done, empty the figurative inbox, eat less (because I’m too busy with other stuff) and … well, and still abandon the usual schedule, so that part’s similar.

Maybe I’m the only person this happens to, though I suspect I’m not.   Or maybe it’s just my personality type, which is more likely.  But give me one or two big projects and I’ll dive into them, happy as a clam in mud.  Give me a bunch of little tasks and I get rattled.  Charles Colson, the former White House counsel and current prison reformer, used to say the same thing about his old boss, Richard Nixon – and I know that Nixon and I share a Myers-Briggs profile (ISTJ, if you’re curious.  And yes, knowing that you share a personality type with Tricky Dick can be very humbling).

Regardless of the cause, I’m a little distracted at the mo, because even in my unemployed state, I’ve got a lot of little things piling up.  (Anselmo’s First Law: Activities always multiply or expand to fill the available time.)  So I’m proclaiming Distraction Day, and clearing the decks!  The celebration will include:

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