Crying out for help

Earlier this week, I taught a group of amazing kids about the Greek play "The Suppliants" by Aeschylus. I love this play and the themes that it offers and I was excited to see how their minds so quickly grasped concepts and ran with them. I then held a debate with the class, with the men debating the point of view of the women and the women debating the point of view of the king. It was a fascinating experience!

But that is not why I am here. I am writing because a line from this play stuck a chord deep in my soul and I have to record my thoughts. In the play, moments after meeting the king and pleading with him to give them asylum from the horrible Egyptians who want to force them into marriages against their will, the women refer to themselves as follows:

"See me, the suppliant, the wandering fugitive, like a heifer chased by a wolf up the steep rocks, where, trusting to their protection, she lows loudly, letting the herdsman know of her peril."

This took my breath away. I had never considered that base instinct to cry out, loudly, for help when a life is on the line. Even humans, when faced with a deadly pursuer will often cry out even though this reveals their location to the pursuer, as well as to any rescuer.


This may seem like a stupid response but, at least in the case of the heifer, it is a response of deepest faith and trust. That is what struck me so powerfully. That faith and trust. If we focus our energies on what is wrong with us, on the negative voices from within and without, Satan wins. But if we focus our energies on crying out to God and on what we do have that is positive, we can make a difference. Of course, the heifer's lowing is heard by not only the herdsman, but also by the wolf who is pursuing her and yet still she lows, because of her faith that the herdsman will reach her before the wolf does. We need to learn from the heifer and have that kind of faith in God, even as Satan is snapping at our heels, trying to take advantage of our weak and frightened moments. We cannot choose to be faithless victims. We must choose to have faith in whatever higher power we choose to believe in. I have chosen to cry out a couple of times in the past few days and it has honestly made a huge difference. It is a risk but I am willing to take the gamble.

Hurt vs. Injured

"Football players get 'hurt' virtually every practice. When hard plastic meets soft human tissue, soreness sets in quickly. We try to teach our players to play through this soreness. Some are better at it than others. It gets tricky when a player is injured. This would be a time when trauma has occurred to the point where the player can no longer perform at a level that can help the team. Typically this is when a medical professional should be consulted. We leave this to your discretion as parents. Typically, a player can practice when they are hurt, but not when they are injured."


These are the words of Mike Schmidt, the principal and football coach at our local high school where Kodren is now playing football. I have known Mike for many years and have always appreciated his point of view on all areas of education and sports but the above quote is one of my favorite. And I believe that it really applies to life in general, at least it does for me. This is a follow up post to my last post about seeing the parable of the talents in a different light. In that post I stated the following: "People will hurt you if you are vulnerable. I cannot promise otherwise, this will happen." I have pondered this a great deal and I realize that I often take myself out of the game and even out of practice because of a hurt, when I should be able to play through the soreness. I fear that a lot of people in the world are doing likewise. And I think that the people out there who have agendas are using the fact that we want to avoid not only injury but we want to avoid all hurt to keep us from fully living.


How do we learn to play through the soreness? How do we not allow the hurt or the fear of the hurt to rule our decisions and our actions? And if we receive true injuries, how long do we place ourselves out of commission before we jump back into the fray? These are the questions that are weighing on my mind right now. I want to be a star player. I want to seriously make a dent in the mission that I feel I was placed here to fulfill. But I have to learn to play through the soreness and that is hard. I am a wimp. I really, REALLY like to be comfortable and safe but it is time now to take risks and push myself. In the words of my daughter Michayla, "It is time for adventure". A large enough part of me is ready for adventure to begin to do some hard things and to push back against the pain and soreness. So tell me...how do you find a way to play through the soreness? And how do you manage to understand fully when you are hurt vs injured? I would really love to get some feedback on these ideas. I want to be fully alive and not have anyone and their agenda(s) rule over me because of my fears or needs to be comfortable.

A new "ah-hah" on a beloved parable

I love the parable of the talents. I do not pretend to understand it completely, but I always thought I had a pretty good grasp on the basic concept. But today I got a blessed insight into this parable that gave me peace and hope and a soft heart and I am so grateful. So...I had to get it down before I forgot or the impact lessened. Keep reading if you want, but this one is really for me, something that I must not forget.


I had always seen the talents or money in this story to represent...well...talents or spiritual gifts. And I still believe this to be true. But there can always be additional meanings to scripture, especially to a parable, which can have so many levels. As I have been carrying on a few conversations over the past few days and even weeks, it has struck me repeatedly that we need to really work on having an open and (at least) relatively vulnerable heart if we are to truly be ambassadors of Christ. This is difficult and downright scary because vulnerability so often means pain. People will hurt you if you are vulnerable. I cannot promise otherwise, this will happen. But I do believe that if we are soft and vulnerable and open to being led by the spirit of God then the joy we receive will more than compensate for any pain that we suffer.


As I was petitioning (well begging) the Lord for a soft heart this morning, the parable of the talents popped into my head only I felt the spirit whisper that I should substitute the idea of "heart" for the word talents in the story. WHOA! Think about it. God gives us the opportunity to have a good heart, a heart that has even been called to be a servant of Him. But we must choose how we use that heart. Do we take it out and invest it in a number of relationships and discover that there are a number of ups and downs in the relationship market but in the end we get back at least double for what we put in? Or do we think that we must take care of this heart and protect it and return it to God completely unscathed so we bury our heart and we put up walls and defenses and in the end, we have only our own rather shriveled heart to present to God. It has not grown and God is disappointed both in us and for us because of the richness and opportunity lost.


In the version of this parable found in Matthew chapter 25, the Lord follows up the parable of the talents with those beautiful verses that say, in part, "For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me..." This speaks even more strongly to me that the parable of the talents might be more about the charitable heart than we realize.


We are in a time in the world when we truly cannot afford to shut away our hearts. We have to put ourselves out there and find those in need of our special offerings and we have to do God's work here on earth as his instruments. I can testify that when I am operating with this kind of attitude, I am seriously the richest woman on the earth. I find myself surrounded by people that I love and by increased opportunity to offer and to feel love.


As Pastor Ed said in cowboy church a couple of weeks back, we must stop arguing doctrine and spending our energy on trying to be right and find the common ground we have in Christ and be the body of Christ within that common ground, no matter what our doctrinal differences. I am working to continue to have the faith to open my heart and to love and to serve every chance I get. I do not say this flippantly. It will not be easy, but I do believe that my investment will pay off in a big way and I do believe that it will be worth it.

An interesting story that always makes me think

One of my heroes is Glikl of Hamburg, a Jewish merchant woman who lived and wrote an incredible journal in the late 1600's. Here is one of my favorite stories from her journals. Scholars call this story the antithesis of King Lear, which is one more reason that it intrigues me. I would love to hear thoughts on what you think of this and what you think that Glikl was trying to say to her children with this story. Thanks for reading and have a great day.



IN THE LAST DECADE of the seventeenth century-the year 5451 by the Jewish reckoning- a Jewish merchant woman of Hamburg wrote down a story for her many children. It told of a father bird who lived with his three fledglings along a seashore. One day a fierce storm came up, sending huge waves over the sands. "If we cannot get to the other side at once we are lost," said the bird, and took the first fledgling into his claws and started over the sea. Halfway across, the parent said to his son, "What troubles I have to stand from you! And now I'm risking my life-strength for you. When I am old, will you also do good to me and support me?" The little bird replied, "My dear beloved father, just take me across the water. I will do for you in your old age all that you want of me." Whereupon the parent dropped the birdling into the sea and said, "So should be done with a liar like you."

The parent bird flew back for the second fledgling and halfway across said to it the same words. The little bird promised to do for him all the good in the world. Again the father dropped his young into the sea, saying, "You, too, are a liar." Carrying the third birdling across the water, he asked the same question. The little bird answered , "Father, dear father, all that you say is true, that you have had troubles and grief because of me. I am duty bound to repay you, if it is possible; but I cannot promise for certain. This, however, I can promise: when one day I have young children of my own, I will do for them as you have done for me." At this, the father said, "You speak aright and are also clever. I will let you live and will take you across the water."'