There comes some days when things that are happening just happen. You can’t title or categorize or sequentialize the happenings.
I would like to!
Then things would be in my control. I am in charge.
But I’m not!
As a Christian I’m still learning what it means to surrender. I am crucified with Christ. What a strange statement. And yet liberating. Because I go first to God.
Maybe we need to start a “Surrender First” movement. Would that work?
A week or so ago, April 27, 2011, David Wilkerson died. The cause was a car crash in Texas.
For those of you who haven’t run across this name let me give you some background. In the 1970’s a book was in vogue amongst church goers. Called the Cross and the Switchblade, it talked about gangs and drug addicts, and the changeover that can happen when Christ affects members lives. Wilkerson wrote this book about Nicki Cruz. He later formed a rehab center/network called TEEN CHALLENGE. We have one just down the road in a town called Allen, Saskatchewan (OK, it’s over two hours away, but in Saskatchewan that’s not that far!). A loss to family and friends, but he certainly birthed in the lives of many others a Christianity that survives the worst to bring the best!
Five sessions today were there to listen. And to talk. But talk was secondary. At least on my part.
The first was to consider future direction and structure from an advisor. The second was to listen to make sure I was hearing what another was saying. The third was to serve as mentor by hearing the heart. The fourth was to hear what others were saying. The final was the only “teaching” situation where I was expected to “sit and listen.”
I sometimes wonder if we would learn more if we were to see every part of our day as a place to listen more than to speak!
When I first started blogging a little over five years ago, my father was one of my greatest fans. He would wonder where the things I wrote evolved from. In fact, he would comment that he could never come up with new topics all the time.
I credit my creativity in writing to him. Even though he was quiet, he had this sort of quirk about him. I was refreshed reading some of his letters from his teen years. He seemed to always find something to comment on in a fresh light. Add into that mix a mother who grew up in a dysfunctional home and yet still held hope that the light at the end of the tunnel was heaven and not a train.
Dad is now dead and mom has Alzheimers. The blog no longer entertains them. But I’m thankful for the encouragement they have been to me. Not just in providing a roof, food and education. More than that, they have been the creative ones who pointed me to the original creator. They have helped me to yearn after that which is beyond the ordinary.
With Mother’s day and Father’s day fast approaching, thank you to both my parents!