Fatherhood

I cannot deny the joy my girls bring to me daily. There are times, however, when things just aren't very joyful.

Every Wednesday, I take off a half-day to watch my daughters so that my mother-in-law can cook the dinner served at the church. I'm thankful to be in the flexible position that allows me to do this. Our afternoons together are usually uneventful by most people's standards. Today has not been what I'd call "uneventful". I guess some background would be in order before I get to today.

Some may see me as tough or rough. Someone referred to me as "manly." I suppose those terms could be appropriate in a physical context. What most people don't realize is that I have an extremely weak stomach when it comes to smells and can nearly lose my mind when dealing with my 2 year old's brand of logic. Show me anything, it won't bother me...but let me get a whiff of something nasty and things can get bad very quickly. As a matter of fact, I have thrown up on each of my daughters while changing nasty diapers. I hope that doesn't scar them for life. Get Kaylee talking about why she should be allowed to do something, or trying to match wits with her daddy in some other way, and I become a complete moron.

Today, I'd been home for maybe 15 mintues and had just finished lunch when my mom-in-law left for the church. Kaylee and Elisha came upstairs with me and I thought we'd just play until time for naps. They were watching "Max and Ruby" and playing quietly, so I went to my bedroom. Seriously, not more than 3 minutes had passed before I thought "it's too quiet" and went back to look in on them. Elisha is walking down the hall toward me, fingers in her mouth, and something just didn't look right. As we got closer to each other, I could see green around her mouth. I wondered what she was chewing on, but then I noticed her hands were green also. 2 more steps down the hall and I could see Kaylee standing in a corner, smacking her hands on a shelf. 2 more steps and I see the puddle of green paint Kaylee's playing in. My reaction was a natural one. I said "Kaylee Michele! What are you doing?" My wise and honest 2 year-old said, "Painting my room." I said, "And your sister?" Kaylee replied "No daddy. Elisha's not my room. Her helping me." Elisha evidently decided to taste the paint because her lips were green, as was her tongue. She had it in her hair and splatters on her clothes. Kaylee had paint under her right eye, on both hands, and all over her clothes.

(My creative wife started painting the girls' room a few months ago. It's an elaborate concept of Noah's Ark, with animals all around. For a number of reasons, there hasn't been much progress on the room lately. My guess is that Kaylee and Elisha decided to help Mommy out.)

There is green paint in the carpet of their room. There are little green footprints leaving the room and entering the hall. There are little green handprints in a number of places, from their room to the hall to the bathroom. Daddy's not good at giving baths, and neither Kaylee nor Elisha was excited at the prospect of a daytime bath without Mommy. Normally, they both love bath time. Not today.

After the bath, Daddy needed a break and declared it "nap time." Elisha shook her head vigorously and kept saying "no." Kaylee informed me that Elisha wasn't tired, so nobody needed a nap. More often than not, I know better than to argue or debate with a 2 year old. Not today. Well, within 10 minutes, Elisha was sleeping soundly, so I took her to her bed. Kaylee wasn't where I left her, so I called out for her. She was under my bed. She said she'd take a nap IF she could sleep under the bed. Any good daddy knows that request was out of the question. I told her people don't sleep under beds and that she needed to lay down on my bed and get ready for a nap. Reluctantly, she crawled out and climbed up onto the bed.

The conversation went something like this. Kaylee: "I need sleep under my bed." Daddy: "No Kaylee. We sleep on beds, not under them." Kaylee: "Daddy, I need to." Daddy: "Why do you need to?" Kaylee: "Because I need to." Daddy: "But why do you need to?" Kaylee: "I need to." Daddy: "Why?" Kaylee: "I love you, Daddy." Daddy: "I love you too, but that's not answering my question." Kaylee: "I need sleep under my bed." There were some tears mixed in (hers, not mine), but this repeated for at least 10 minutes.

Knowing her stubbornness (although I have NO idea where it could come from), I told her she could sleep on the floor with her feet under her bed. So, I spread her blanket on the floor. She said "Thank you, Daddy" and laid down and was asleep within 30 seconds.

Feeling rather stupid and defeated, I started scrubbing the carpet in the hall to erase the footprints.

I can't wait for Christy to get home and do her mommy-thing so easily.

Lesson 8,944: don't argue with a 2 year old. (evidently, I haven't learned this one yet and am forced to repeat it over and over.)
Lesson 47,641: nothing is outside the reach of a determined 2 year old, no matter how little she is and how far "up" something has been placed.

More funeral thoughts

Attending a recent funeral made me think of my uncle’s funeral nearly 2 years ago.

Ricky was, for lack of a better term, a rounder. From dictionary.com, a rounder is described as: “a dissolute person, usually a man who is morally unrestrained.” Yeah, that was my uncle. He lived his life for him. He didn’t love anyone or anything more than himself, except possibly, cocaine. His pall-bearers wore NASCAR shirts. I may have been the only person, other than the funeral directors, who wore a tie. They played some odd songs, ending with one about “I’m the last rebel; I'm a loner; Nobody loves or understands me” or something to that effect. It was surreal that even in death, he tried to play the victim role. He wanted sympathy and attention, even in the plans he laid out for his own funeral.

I hadn’t talked to him for a number of years before he killed himself. Ricky did call a family member on Easter Sunday a year before he died. He told the family member that he was in the final stage of cancer and was about to die. By all accounts, that was a lie. My guess is, based on his history, that it was a ploy to get sympathy or money. A long-time friend of his found what ultimately was his suicide note, his goodbye to the world. Tim loved Ricky like a brother, despite all the mess he had to go through to remain friends. Tim told me about the note...and that while it didn't expressly say he was going to kill himself, it eluded to that fact. It wasn’t a traditional suicide…no overdose or gunshot. He drove into an 18-wheeler at a high rate of speed, probably drunk or high, and got decapitated. That ended a life full of opportunities missed.

At his “visitation” and funeral, I saw some family members I’d not seen since my grandmother’s funeral in ’97. Attending were a great aunt (the “matriarch” of the family), a great uncle (the spitting image of my grandfather), and a host of 2nd cousins and their spouses. There were a number of stories being told, most I’d heard before. I found it funny how time changes a person’s memory though. Some of the stories being told, I’d actually witnessed. Other stories, I’d heard from my mom, my grandmother, or Ricky himself.

My great aunt, sister to my grandfather, was telling versions of stories I’d never heard before. Oh, I’d heard the stories…just not her version of them. She told everyone how my grandmother “never wanted Ricky.” I, of course, hold a different view of reality. My grandmother had a difficult pregnancy with my mother. Difficult pregnancies in 1950 weren’t anything to take lightly. My grandmother was not excited when she found out she was pregnant again 3 years later. That, all these years later, turned into her not wanting him.

My aunt also said Ricky was mistreated, abused, and never loved. This could not be further from the truth. Ricky was a problem from the time he was very young. His wild nature could not be controlled, no matter what my grandparents tried. He stayed in trouble all throughout his childhood. I suppose my grandparents’ inability to control him fueled the “mistreated” view. As far as abuse is concerned, I heard the story she referred to from my mom, my grandmother, and Ricky himself. When he was 14 or 15, he took a loaded gun to school because he was being picked on. We’re talking about 1967 or ’68. He got caught and was promptly expelled. When my grandfather got home from work, he got the full story and went to confront Ricky, and to find out why it happened. Ricky got defensive and, during the confrontation, hit my grandfather. My grandfather told him that if he tried that again, he’d better be man enough to deal with the consequences. Ricky took another swing and my grandfather “beat the stew out of him” (my grandmother’s words). That was the only time he was ever “abused.”

As far as love goes, I cannot begin to list the ways our family tried to show him love. I can’t count the times my grandmother paid for him to go to rehab. I can’t remember the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th “chances” he got from me alone…much less everyone else. In my grandmother’s will, money was set aside for the express purpose of paying for his funeral. She was wise enough to know that he’d die alone and penniless. She bought him a plot in the cemetery, a casket, and paid for it all. Had he been unloved, she wouldn’t have had the forethought to do that for him. I wanted to ask my aunt whom she thought was paying for that funeral and set her straight, but I kept my mouth shut.

My aunt told a story of my grandmother’s “refusal” to buy him a plane ticket home from California when my mom died. The truth is that she DID buy him a plane ticket. As a matter of fact, I drove her to the travel agency to purchase it. He turned it in for cash and bought drugs with the money. I think he showed us how much he loved my mom with his actions. Again, I kept my mouth shut.

I also wanted to tell other stories…stories that could not paint Ricky as a victim. He chose his life and lived it on his terms. I wanted to remind them that he joined the Navy out of high school to prevent himself from going to jail. I wanted to explain how he spent most of his time in the Navy in the Brig. I wanted to remind them of his 2 failed marriages and 3 children with whom he had no relationship. I thought they needed to know about how he bragged about his $1000 per day cocaine habit in the early 80’s. I wanted to explain to everyone that after he roughed-up my great-grandmother for drug money in the summer of 1991, I went looking for him. If I’d found him that day, we’d have had his funeral many years earlier and I’d have been in jail. I wanted to tell them about his moving back home to “take care of” my grandmother when she was sick with cancer. He hadn’t been back 24 hours when he started taking things out of the house and pawning them or selling them outright for drug money. I wanted them to know that after the settling of my grandmother’s estate, that he sold her car before the ink was dry on his signing the title. He bought cocaine with the money. He was not shy about admitting when he used drugs, and told me regularly. There are many other stories I could have told. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.

So, what is my point? Am I just bashing my uncle? That is not my intent. I loved Ricky. Until I was old enough to realize what he really was, there was nobody I’d rather have spent time with. This is just my therapy. It’s my way to get things out. My grandparents were good people. They were far from perfect, but they did their best with Ricky. He chose his life. He chose rebellion. He chose self-destruction. There was nothing my grandparents could have done to prevent it. My grandmother prayed for him multiple times every day until she died. He was constantly exposed to the truth. He chose to live in hell when he was alive. A lot of people who loved him were singed by his flames. I hope that somewhere in his life, he got things right with God. I hope that the hell he lived on earth was not a fore-taste of his eternity.

Mother's day thoughts

Today is Mother’s Day. Today, like every other day, I’m thinking about my mom.

She died after a 2 year battle with cancer in 1995. Mom was a sweet lady. She was one of the most human people I ever met. In the last couple of years of her life, she lost her pretense. She realized that so much of her life was wasted on trying to live up to expectations she put on herself. She’d also tended to project other people’s expectations onto her life. Weakness and faults weren’t “supposed” to be shown in the life of a Christian. You had to play the game, and play it well, in order to impress others and maintain status in the church. In those last couple of years, she allowed her insecurities to show. She was self-conscious about her weight. She worried that she was insignificant to those she loved. The week before she died, she told me her greatest fear was that she’d be forgotten after she was gone. She told me how much she regretted that she’d miss meeting my wife, seeing me get married, and getting to hold her grand children. I cannot go a day without looking at my daughters and hating the fact that they’ll never know Grandma Ginger. I can tell them stories, but that’s 2nd hand knowledge. It’s not good enough for me. Sometimes, I get frustrated about it. I still don’t understand why God had to take her at only 45. It doesn’t seem fair to me, but I am projecting my limited view of fairness onto God…and that’s just wrong. He knows what He is doing, always. I have to trust in that.

I miss my mom. I still, nearly 13 years after her death, cry for her from time to time. Ok, so maybe I cry for me missing her. I think about my girls not having her love showered on them. I think about my nieces and nephew never knowing her and it makes me sad. I think of how my sisters have had to grow into womanhood with out her influence, since they were 18 and 15 when she died.

These last 13 years have been long without Mom being around. Every day, I look forward to seeing her again in Heaven.

A few years ago, John Tesh cut a song with Dalia singing lead called “Mother, I Miss You.” The chorus expresses how I feel more eloquently than I could begin to say it.

“Mother I miss you. Nights I just wish you were here with me so we can laugh and talk again. Mother I miss you, but I’ll just kiss you and send it on the wind. ‘Cause you know I plan to see you again.”

Also, it was on Mother's day 2 years ago that we brought Kaylee home from her stint in the NICU. She was so tiny.

This week

I went to a funeral earlier this week. The wife of a friend/co-worker was killed in a car accident. She was only 39 with 2 teen-age children and 1 grandchild. The tragedy of the situation of someone dying so young was tremendous. My friend truly married his best friend and he is beyond distraught. Just seeing the physical toll on him was heartbreaking, the emotional scars not-withstanding.

They live in a small town; a close-knit community. There were many family members at the funeral, along with a good number of friends and acquaintances. I believe my friend will ultimately be ok because his family and friends have truly rallied around him. They will give him the support he needs. They will encourage him. They will also kick him in the rear when he needs it.

They played a number of country songs, including “This One’s For the Girls” and “I Hope You Dance.” One of her sisters came up and read the obituary straight out of the newspaper. Then, the minister stepped to the podium. He explained that he was from a Baptist church in the small town where she grew up. He mentioned that he hadn’t seen her in nearly 20 years, but he remembered her as a “vibrant child and teen, very full of life.” He then went on to talk about the person she’d become (from her sisters’ descriptions); how she tried to encourage people to take advantage of the moment, and how she wanted people to get the most out of life. He didn’t say much about her beyond that, but he didn’t really know her. I mean, at her own funeral, the person who said the most, didn’t even know her. He couldn’t reflect on personal memories to even give people a good word-picture of whom she really was. I’d never met my friend’s wife, and even at her funeral, I could not learn anything substantial about her. That made me sad. I know, of course, some things I’d picked up from my friend, but even those things weren’t really of any substance. After nearly 40 years of life, nobody stood to say anything on her behalf. The preacher did his best to encourage the family to band together and take care of each other. He read from the “standard” funeral Biblical passages (John 14:1-3 & Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). He talked briefly about God’s love, His comfort, and how He will never leave or forsake us. It was an impossible position for him: to eulogize someone with whom he had no relationship. I felt bad for the preacher…but that’s not the point, and I digress, as I am prone to do.

In reality, I wasn’t there for her. I was there to support my friend. I was there out of respect for his pain and heartache. I wasn’t there because she meant anything to me personally. Again, I’d never met her.

In my 35 years, I’ve been to a lot of funerals. Most were somber affairs, while others included wailing and screaming. A couple of them were truly “going home” celebrations where God’s presence was tangible; where hearts and lives were changed.

The funeral of my friend’s wife was one of the saddest I’ve attended. It begged the question in me: “What are people going to say at your funeral?” That led to another question: “What do you want people to remember about your funeral?”

The 2nd question is a little more difficult. It comes from the fact that years from now, I doubt I’ll remember much about my friend’s wife’s funeral other than the music, the fact that nobody from her family stood up and said anything about her, and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness in that small funeral home chapel. When the last song played for your memory is “Free Bird”, what does that really say?

This is not a cultural issue. It is not an issue of education or ignorance. I think it is totally about a spiritual vacuum. I am not trying to judge a dead woman’s life…because I never met her. I have nothing but a funeral to use for a basis for judgment, and that is not fair. It’s not a spiritual indictment of her, my friend, or their family and friends.

Ultimately, it made me more sad and amplified the tragedy of the entire situation.

Clarification on "Boxes"

Based on some questions I've received, I need to make sure that nobody believes I am advocating the "Emergent Church" movement.

The Emergent movement is, in my opinion, nothing more than political correctness gone mad INSIDE the church. For a basic understanding of the Emergent movement, in essense they say that as the world (& culture) has changed, the church should change (or emerge) to meet the world. While this may sound like a good thing, we must make ourselves aware of what that really means in the context of the Emergent movement.

In a post-modern world (Post-modernism can be thought of as a dissolution of "cold, hard fact" in favor of "warm, fuzzy subjectivity."), the norm is compromise for the purpose of ecumenism (unity among people coming from different religious and ethnic backgrounds and diversity in the expression of corporate worship). Unity sounds like a great thing. I mean, nobody (especially Christians) should be fighting with each other. Unity, at the peril of the Truth, is NOT of God. We are called to be "set apart" from the world, not compromise for the sake of getting along and not rocking the boat. If we are strangers and aliens, why would we want to blend in?

Emerging churches are teaching "experience over reason, subjectivity over objectivity, spirituality over religion, images over words, outward over inward, feelings over truth." Since experience is more valuable than reason, Truth has become relative. Because feelings are more important than truth, everything biblical is subjective. There can be NO absolutes any more. This is a result of our PC world, where we cannot offend anyone...especially with Truth. Emergent thought is not of God because He is absolutely Holy. He hasn't changed. He is no different today than when He said "I AM."

In "Boxes", my point is that we (the church) have become a country club and a place of exclusivity. We love our traditions; our legacy. We are comfortable and complacent. We like our status, both in the community and in the church. Folks, the people we see every Sunday are NOT the people we're supposed to be reaching with the Gospel. We should be ministering to each other inside the church while reaching out to those on the "fringes of society," because they are the ones who are being left out.

Jesus died for people with tattoos. Jesus died for people with piercings. He died for the poor and destitute. He died for people who don't look like you. He died for people who DO look like you.

Jesus sacrificed Himself. He gave up His rightful place at the right hand of God, to take upon Himself the penalty for the sins of everyone who has ever lived or ever will live. He paid MY price. He paid YOURS.

Jesus paid Hitler's price, too. He paid for Osama bin Ladin. He paid for Jeffery Dahmer.

The difference between Hitler, bin Ladin, Dahmer, and myself is that I have accepted the FREE GIFT of salvation. I humbly accept Jesus' payment on my behalf. My debt has been paid. I know that I don't deserve it, and but for the Grace of God, I could be another Hitler, bin Ladin, or Dahmer. I am well aware of the depth of my own depravity. This is the Truth that is compromised in the Emergent movement. This Truth must not be compromised.

If we, the church, were consistently more aware of the Truth, there would be no reason to focus on differences between denominations. We would be able to see the only difference that matters: our salvation versus the lost condition of the world around us. If I am as grateful as I should be, then my greatest desire should be to share, with as many as possible, the FREEDOM I have been given through the Cross.

Worship

have you ever thought about worship and why sometimes it's better than others?

worship, in and of itself, comes natural to us. we worship many things on a daily basis. perhaps it's a job. it could be a football team. maybe it's ourselves or someone we love. regardless, most of us are worshiping someone or something on a regular basis. the first step of any 12-step program is acknowledgment of sin. this is a gut-wrenching process of breaking. for most of us, we acknowledge our sin daily. for others, it's not quite as often that we think about it. ultimately, the first step of worship is seeing ourselves for what we are...completely unworthy of anything good from the Father.

ah, but here's the good part...step 2 (acknowledging God). this is where worship becomes real. when we come to a point where we can see God for who He is...the Holiness, the Love, the Glory, and everything else...that's when we can individually, and as a group, enter boldly into His throne-room and sit at His feet. seeing God as He is helps put ourselves in the proper place. there can be no pretense in His presence. pride cannot exist there. control disappears. when we see God in His true relation to us, we have no choice but to worship Him with absolute abandon. my favorite hymn is "It Is Well With My Soul." i sing it all the time...and to me, it's not a sad song. i can worship to that song like no other...especially the 3rd verse. "My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part, but in whole is nailed to the cross and i bear it no more! Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, oh my soul!"

those of you who know me well understand i'm not a "pew jumper." my actions during worship usually appear reserved. it's my nature to be reserved in appearance. that is not indicative of what's going on inside. i encourage each of you to think about these things and when you find yourself in a place of worship, throw yourself into it with absolute abandon. think about what God's done for you in-light (and in spite) of your own depravity. you'll find the worship is sweeter.

just in case you're wondering...the 12 steps are:

1) I admit that I am powerless over things I believe I should control, and my life has become unmanageable.
2) I believe there is a Power greater than myself and that He can restore me to sanity.
3) I make a decision to turn over my will and my life to the care of God.
4) I make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.
5) I admit to God, to myself, and to others the exact nature of my wrongs.
6) I am entirely ready for God to remove all these deficits of character.
7) I humbly ask God to remove my shortcomings.
8) I make a list of all those I have harmed, and become willing to make amends to them all.
9) I make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10) I continue to make moral inventories and promptly admit when I am wrong.
11) I seek through prayer to improve my relationship with God, praying for knowledge of His will and power to carry this out.
12) Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I will carry this message to others and practice these principles in all life's affairs.

What is scripture?

over the last few weeks, some things have come up through conversations. they have made themselves more and more evident as i've had more conversations about them. i know this could be a dangerous subject and i'm trying not to be a heretic.

the first thing is scripture. what is it, really? my definition is: the word of God, period. so, is ALL of the Bible (as we know it) God-breathed? the easy answer is "yes." i'm not sure if the easy answer is the right one though. i mean, our definition of scripture is different from Paul's. when he said "All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness"...surely he wasn't referring to his letters to Corinth, Philippi, Ephesus, Colossae, et al. Paul was writing letters to his friends, his disciples, his "children in the faith." Do you think when Paul authored a letter to Timothy, it occurred to him that we'd be reading his words nearly 2000 years later? i doubt that. Paul's letters were not designed to become scripture when he wrote them...or were they? in the Bible, when scripture is quoted or paraphrased, it's always Old Testament stuff. when scripture is referred to in the New Testament, it's not Peter talking about something Luke said...it's not John referring to James. did Peter quote Paul's letters when he was preaching? if the Bible, as we know it today (66 books), IS all scripture, why is that so? what about "lost" gospels, epistles, and historical texts that were once considered scriptural? (that is NOT including the so-called gospels that are in direct contradiction to the rest of the Bible) take the book of Enoch, for example. Jude (14-15) quotes it. Enoch was widely accepted in Jesus' time, but in the 300's AD, it was rejected...except by the Coptics. why do Catholics accept the Apocrypha, but we protestants largely ignore those books?

there are a number of references in Paul's letters that indicate a good deal of epistles that we do not have now. a first letter to Corinth (1Cor 5:9), a 3rd epistle to Corinth (2 Cor 2:4 & 7:8-9), an early epistle to Ephesus (Eph 3:3-4), & an epistle to Leodicea (Col 4:16) are all mentioned, but why aren't they in the canon? ....and that's just the Pauline writings.

there is an impressive list of non-canonical books that are quoted, or referred to, in both Old & New Testaments. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-canonical_books_referenced_in_the_Bible ) if those books were important enough to be widely read & accepted at one point, why were they later rejected?

frankly, it comes down to a matter of faith to me. if i believe God is who He says He is, then He is powerful enough to provide me with a means to know Him and His words.

are those 66 books a complete collection of scripture? probably not, in my opinion.
are those 66 books a sufficient means to have a servicible knowledge and understanding of God? yes.

Genesis chapter 2 questions

1. What is sin? (my definition is: anything that is direct contrast, or direct opposition to the nature of the holiness of God.)

2. Who sinned first, Adam or Eve? (Eve ate first...but was the first sin the lie/misquotation of God's command not to eat of the tree? she said that God had said not to eat of it OR even touch it. was Adam at fault in that God made the command to Adam before Eve was created thereby making him responsible for Eve's understanding of the command?)

3. Was Eve's misquotation of God's command the first example of legalism? (adding our thoughts to the Word of God, as if it is not sufficient to stand on it's own.)

4. Was sin possible before they ate of the tree of the knowlege of good and evil? (my answer: ignorance is no excuse. God's law is God's law. whether we understand it or not, sin is sin.)

5. What is the Law? (the reason for this question comes from the life of Cain. we know Cain was married. did he marry his sister? if so, was the Law not in effect until Moses wrote it down? if the law helps us define and determine those things that are "in direct contrast, or direct opposition to the nature of the holiness of God," was incest permitted in the case of Cain & Seth (along with their other brothers and sisters) despite the fact that Leviticus prohibits it? the same question arises later in the life of Noah's sons' offspring. if it was permitted at one point, then prohibited later, i don't see consistency. is there such thing as "necessary evil?")

6. Where was Adam created? (2:15 says God took the man and put him in the Garden)

7. How long did it take Adam to name "every beast of the field and every bird of the sky?" (just think of the magnitude of that task!) my contention is that time still had very little meaning to Adam. he didn't see time in "months" or "years" because he only knew the concept of a 7-day week. based on this contention, there is no way to know how long Adam was alone, nor how long Adam and Eve were in the Garden together before the "fall."

8. Did the days of Adam (930 years) start at his creation, or at the time of banishment from the Garden? years had no meaning until it became the countdown to Adam's death.

9. Why wasn't Eve scared when the serpent spoke to her? If a cow spoke to you, how would you react? I know that I'd run away while questioning my sanity.

9. Who twisted God's command concerning the tree, Eve or Adam? (God said "don't eat it or you will die." Eve told the serpent God said "don't eat it or touch it or you will die.") I can't help wondering if Eve accurately quoted Adam's version of God's command, or if she embellished it herself. So, was the first sin eating the fruit or telling a lie?

Notice Eve's curse (3:16). virtually every translation I've looked at uses the same language.
"I will greatly multiply Your pain in childbirth, In pain you will bring forth children..."(NASB)
"I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children..."(NIV)
"I'll multiply your pains in childbirth; you'll give birth to your babies in pain..."(Message)
"I will sharpen the pain of your pregnancy, and in pain you will give birth..."(New Living)
"I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children..."(English Standard)
"I will greatly increase thy travail and thy pregnancy; with pain thou shalt bear children..."(Darby)
"I will make your pain much worse in giving birth. You will give birth to children in pain..."(New Life)
my point is a bit of a stretch, but with words like "multiply, increase, sharpen" it begs the question in me, "increased pain compared to what? multiplied pain compared to what?" i think this could be a hint that Eve had had children (Cain and Abel) before the fall.

Boxes

BOXES

Boxes can be useful. They help to keep things organized. They are good at preventing clutter. Presents often come in boxes.

Boxes can also be irritating or bad. Sometimes we open a box, and cannot fit the contents back into it afterwards. We’ve all heard the phrase "opening Pandora’s box."Many Christians today have tried to put God in a box. We think we can clearly define His nature. We think we can understand Him. We’ve (wrongly) given God attributes that are based on our limited understanding. The Creator of all is beyond our comprehension. "For now we see through a mirror, dimly..." Why do we assume that the Infinite can be categorized by the finite?

My family and I are now part of a Baptist church where "tradition" is revered, if not worshiped. We are at this church because this is where God has led us. He hasn’t given us the "ok" to leave, despite that we are not happy. Being in God’s will is not about happiness...and this is a difficult lesson to learn. God is not a genie in a bottle, of which we are the master. It doesn’t work that way. Service to the King is not full of "ifs." Either we are in His will, or we are not. Either we are serving Him, or we’re not. He will not be mocked.

In our current church, God has been put into a box of tradition. He is expected to respond and act in "traditionally accepted" ways. If something is proposed that falls outside of those "traditionally accepted" things, it is summarily rejected. There are no new ideas that are acceptable, unless they come from the headquarters of the SBC in Nashville and someone has written it into a program. Don’t question things...ever. Do what your parents did, and your grandparents, and their parents before them, and so on. Just go along, be part of the program. It was good enough for your parents’ generation, it should be good enough for you. Believe what you’re told from a pulpit because it’s easier than thinking for yourself.Tradition is not bad, in and of itself. My contention is that when tradition becomes something we hide behind, and more important than the work God has set before us, it couldn’t be more evil.When we were asked to help bring the church out of the 1960's (technologically speaking), we offered to do whatever we could. Once we started making suggestions, we were told (concerning worship services), "We don’t want them to become so produced that we inhibit the spontaneous nature of the Holy Spirit." We haven't suggested anything outrageous...simply ways to streamline things and have the services run like they were not just thrown together. Their's is just an excuse to keep things status quo. I haven’t seen a truly spontaneous movement of anyone, including the Holy Spirit, since we joined this church.

People are generally afraid of change and that’s why we like our boxes. They’re safe. We reject the idea of anything different. Rejecting change leads to stagnation. That always leads to complacency. Jesus told the church of Laodicea (Rev 3:15-16) "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish you were either cold or hot. Because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth." You see, it’s easier to put God in a box and try to limit what He can, and will do. What if, just for the sake of argument, God wanted us to reach the lost and dying world in which we live? If we choose to stay inside the box we’ve created for our churches, we will never reach anyone. That is why the church is now failing to effectively reach people with the Gospel. The church, as a whole, has failed to adapt. We are making great strides overseas, but our next-door neighbors are going to hell. We’ll send people to Africa, but not on the other side of the railroad tracks. We do not know how to meet people where they are any more. People today want to be part of a community, but the church (in general) will not accept "outsiders." At the same time, the church has become more of a country club; a place to network and commune with those in our same social status.

Basically, my point is this: can you see if there is a box around you? If so, does that box inhibit God’s movement in your life? Does it inhibit your effectiveness in reaching others for Christ? Personally, I’m trying to identify all of the boxes in my life and eliminate them. I don’t want to limit God, in my life or in anyone else’s.