Good morning, all! I am trudging glibly through the book of Matthew. Very soon I will begin my perusal of Mark. I will miss Matthew. His obsession with numbers and detailed (if unexplained) accuracy is quite wonderful.
Rather than having one thing stand out as I read, this time I was more impressed by a global character of Christ seen from chapter to chapter and story to story.
When you read the book of Matthew in massive chunks, with complete disregard to chapter/paragraph separations, the busyness of Christ's ministry becomes incredibly obvious. From one thing, to another, to another, and he's constantly being required to stop to serve others, to perform miracles he's performed before, and he's ceaselessly explaining things to his rather slow disciples.
I am, I confess, quite worried about the holiday season. As things accelerate in my school and family requirements, the pressure and constant work/interaction with others that is required can be quite daunting. What am I going to do when I have to do the same thing over and over? How will I react if required to give up what I prefer over and over? How am I going to show Christ-like behavior in the midst of the panic, bustle, and selfishness which any break from routine incites?
But how foolish to worry! Everything I need in regards to self-less service has been outlined for me. And, as Hebrews says, "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin." Christ knows the panic, the busyness, the constant service that is required to be effective. And I know what I need to do (thanks to Hebrews) in order to serve as he did: "Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
I don't have to do it in and of myself.
Yay!
Bring on my Christmas craziness!
I serve and ever-serving Lord.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
No Words, Only Songs... for our Emmanuel
Every Thursday this semester, I've had a clinical placement at the Indiana Veterans' Home (IVH). To say I was thrilled at this clinic placement would be a gross over-statement. I had observed at IVH prior to my experience of working there, and my reaction to this assignment was less than ideal. I was, in short, dreading it.
However, after a couple scary first few weeks, I gradually began to tolerate it, and then (lo' and behold!) to enjoy it.
The whole facility is full of grumpy old men (and a couple of equally grumpy ladies), who are starved for attention and confused about where they are and what's going on. Several weeks ago we added a new client. I'm going to call him "Murphy."
"Murphy" is younger than most of the residents at IVH. He's in his 50s and suffered a debilitating stroke that left him almost completely unable to walk, talk, or take care of himself. He had just gotten married, and his family was not expecting this tragedy (what family ever is?). Instead of complete sentences, "Murphy" is only able to say the word "differ" (with excellent inflection and charisma), in addition to some occasional phrases that we speech therapists call "memorized wholes." (For example, he can sing all of "Happy Birthday.")
Today, due to an evaluation on another resident, I was late to "Murphy's" therapy session and found the other clinician already done with most of the activities. When I walked into the room, "Murphy's" face lit up and he animatedly greeted me. (I felt like a million bucks). Because singing had gone so well in the past, we decided to try some Christmas carols.
Apparently I was the only clinician who couldn't claim to be tone-deaf. So, all on my own, I began singing, hoping that "Murphy" would join in and remember some of the words to these old favorites.
And he did.
For ten minutes, the only sound in his room was both of us singing. Using his communication device, he requested "Joy to the World," "Away in the Manger," "We wish you a Merry Christmas," etc.
As we finished with "Silent Night," "Murphy" teared up. Unable to say all the words, he followed my pitch, only producing words at the end of the phrases. These were the only ones he was able to sing.
As you sing with your family this holiday, be it around the Christmas tree, or in a candlelight Christmas Eve service, really, truly sing. God, the one who became man, who released his immeasurable power, who became a helpless, ignored baby, is the one we are celebrating this Christmas. And although many others have forgotten people such as the residents at IVH, God never has.
How great is our Emmanuel.
However, after a couple scary first few weeks, I gradually began to tolerate it, and then (lo' and behold!) to enjoy it.
The whole facility is full of grumpy old men (and a couple of equally grumpy ladies), who are starved for attention and confused about where they are and what's going on. Several weeks ago we added a new client. I'm going to call him "Murphy."
"Murphy" is younger than most of the residents at IVH. He's in his 50s and suffered a debilitating stroke that left him almost completely unable to walk, talk, or take care of himself. He had just gotten married, and his family was not expecting this tragedy (what family ever is?). Instead of complete sentences, "Murphy" is only able to say the word "differ" (with excellent inflection and charisma), in addition to some occasional phrases that we speech therapists call "memorized wholes." (For example, he can sing all of "Happy Birthday.")
Today, due to an evaluation on another resident, I was late to "Murphy's" therapy session and found the other clinician already done with most of the activities. When I walked into the room, "Murphy's" face lit up and he animatedly greeted me. (I felt like a million bucks). Because singing had gone so well in the past, we decided to try some Christmas carols.
Apparently I was the only clinician who couldn't claim to be tone-deaf. So, all on my own, I began singing, hoping that "Murphy" would join in and remember some of the words to these old favorites.
And he did.
For ten minutes, the only sound in his room was both of us singing. Using his communication device, he requested "Joy to the World," "Away in the Manger," "We wish you a Merry Christmas," etc.
As we finished with "Silent Night," "Murphy" teared up. Unable to say all the words, he followed my pitch, only producing words at the end of the phrases. These were the only ones he was able to sing.
As you sing with your family this holiday, be it around the Christmas tree, or in a candlelight Christmas Eve service, really, truly sing. God, the one who became man, who released his immeasurable power, who became a helpless, ignored baby, is the one we are celebrating this Christmas. And although many others have forgotten people such as the residents at IVH, God never has.
How great is our Emmanuel.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Matthew 9-12: How much do you care? **Oldie, but a Keith-Green goodie**
Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field."...Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. As you go, preach this message: 'The kingdom of heaven is near.' ... "And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward."
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