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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Exterminating the “Lone Ranger” mindset

14 July 2010

As I mentioned in Monday’s post, the exterminator is coming tomorrow.  And I, for one, couldn’t be happier.

We’ve been fighting these bugs (and they us) for five years now.  Sometimes we have the upper hand and can drive them back; sometimes they have the upper hand (claw?  mandible?) and we have to throw out a couple of boxes of cereal.  About a week ago, after the latest attempt to win the war (involving five well-placed but largely ineffective bug bombs), the Supermodel and I decided that enough was enough.  Something had to give if we were going to get the vermin permanently removed from our domicile.

So on Monday I called Orkin to have them send someone over and give us an estimate.  There’s a likelihood that they’ll not only do that tomorrow, but also perform the first treatment (according to the customer service rep I spoke with, that’s how they prefer to roll).  She gave me an idea of what a year-long program (seven treatments, to make sure the suckers don’t come back) would cost, and after some deliberation, me and the missus are willing to pay it.

But I realized to day that money isn’t the only thing I’d be giving up.  Nor would the bugs be the only thing I’d be rid of and not miss.

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