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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781426726187 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Dimensions for Living |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2010 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 457 KB |
About the Author
Sally Sharpe, former editor of Dimensions for Living and Abingdon Press books, currently is a freelance editor and writer. She lives in Mt. Juliet, Tennessee, with her husband, Neil, and their two daughters, Lauren and Brenna.
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365 Meditations Young Adults
By Esther Cho, Christian Coon, Christopher Cropsey, Richard Evans, James A. Harnish, Elizabeth Hunter, Kwasi Kena, Mitch McVicker, Barbara Mittman, Ellen Mohney, Jason, Moore, Julie O'Neal, Harriet P. Willimon, William H. Willimon, Sally D. Sharpe
Dimensions for Living
Copyright © 2002 Dimensions for LivingAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4267-2618-7
CHAPTER 1
January
LIVING FROM THE CENTER
Jason Moore
January 1 Into the Chaos
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.
—Genesis 1:1–2 (NKJV)
Mrs. Susie was my second-grade teacher. She taught math and science, and she had a wonderful way of simplifying complex theories, of fitting the universe in a paper sack. Maybe that's why I can still remember my first science project—a mobile of the solar system.
Looking back, there wasn't much to it: two clothes hangers taped into an "x," some string, nine foam balls colored like the pictures in our encyclopedia, and a big orange cardboard sun in the center. I used different sized balls for the planets and connected them carefully to the hangers. When I was done, I put it in a grocery bag and went to bed. The next morning, however, I reached into the bag to find a jumbled mess where my mobile had been. The string was tangled and the planets were in the wrong places. Worst of all, when I pulled the mobile out, the sun was in the bottom of the sack.
I'm twenty—three now, and though I don't worry with science projects anymore, my life often seems as tangled as that second—grade mobile. There are days, weeks even, when nothing seems to work out right, when it seems that life is spinning out of control. This is where God comes in. For just as the sun holds the planets in place, so also a life with God at its center is one of peace and grace and order—one lived in the proper perspective.
Living from the center means living a life that is focused on God. This, however, is not an easy task. We are a busy people, easily distracted. So we must daily refocus our attention. In the days to come, as I reflect on the commonplace, I invite you to look beyond the surface, to see metaphors in the simple things, to see how you might come to live from the center.
Prayer Focus:What does it mean for me to live with God at the center?
January 2 Above the Noise
The Lord is near to all who call on him — in truth.
—Psalm 145:18 (NRSV)
During my first two years in college, I lived on the sixteenth story of the tallest building on campus. For some reason it was quieter up there, as if everyone had talked themselves out on the long elevator ride—or worse, had endured thirty—two flights of stairs. But for whatever reason, there was a stillness up there, a kind of separateness seldom interrupted.
There was no one above us, so you never heard footsteps thudding or floorboards creaking. And I can remember so many nights up there, typing away, as my roommate slept, in almost absolute quiet save for the clicking of the keys. Even with him there, I felt completely alone. Sometimes, however, I would grow tired of the quiet, so I'd throw the window open to hear the sounds of the city below, which were so different from those of my youth.
The tracks were only a stone's throw from my dorm, and every night around 4:00 a.m., the train would let out a moan and come rumbling by, rattling the windows and calling me from my reverie. The whole room seemed to shimmy, and it amazed me that something so far below was not only heard but also felt.
But let's face it, most of us don't live above the noise. We're in it. Thus, living a life from the center means finding a way to follow God's will even in the midst of all the crazy racket. And this requires a new perspective: You see, God is not like I was, tucked away in some room in the sky. Rather, God is like the train, rumbling through the center of our lives, calling us away from our selfish desires, offering us a better way to travel through life.
Prayer Focus: Where do I hear God calling me to get involved?
January 3 Better Days
For lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing has come." (Exodus 16:4a NIV)
—Song of Solomon 2:11–12 (NKJV)
It was late afternoon and the beach was all but deserted. I was standing barefoot at the end of the pier, watching as the umbrellas disappeared one by one. The wind was warm and salty, and I sat for the longest time, watching the breakers tumble and roll, clawing softly at the sand below. Closing my eyes, I could feel the sun warm on my face, the pier gently swaying, the subtle stinging of skin made tight from salt and sun, as a feeling of peace washed over me.
I often think of that summer day when life seems overly gray, when the winter doldrums have gotten the best of me. And I wonder if the disciples did the same thing. In those days after the crucifixion, as reality began to sink in, I wonder if they remembered better, brighter days, when they walked with Christ and felt the warmth of his love.
I guess that's what I'm doing now. When my soul seems cold and frosted over, I think of warmer days when my walk with Christ was closer, when sunshine seemed to flood my soul. Those memories bring me hope and comfort, for I know that no season lasts forever. And that's what living from the center means: we accept that there are times in our journey when we feel lost, cold, forsaken. Nonetheless, we keep walking, knowing that eventually we can say once more," The winter is past—. The time of singing has come."
Prayer Focus:How close do I feel to God today?
January 4 Faith in the Dark
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.... By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out.... And he went out, not knowing where he was going.
—Hebrews 11:1, 8 (NKJV)
Sometimes I wake up in the night and don't know where I am. It's a strange, unsettling feeling. There in the dark, with the alarm clock staring coldly back at me, for a moment at least I am afraid. Bars of light pass dimly through the blinds, painting a dark web of shadows along the wall. The ceiling creaks and moans; the bed seems alien—not my own. And as I fumble with the lights, it takes some time to get my bearings, to remember where I am.
Usually, it only takes a minute or two to piece it all together. I flip on the lights, and the mystery's solved. Still, it's not the dark that frightens me—or sleeping in strange places. It's the unknown. Yet this is a fear that confronts us daily—not only in the dead of night, but also in the daily circumstances of our spiritual lives. How often do we look around, entangled in the trappings of our lives, and wonder, Where am I? or How did I get here? And it's this feeling of being lost, this fear of the unknown, that can paralyze us if we let it.
This, however, is where faith comes in. Only faith can bridge the chasm between the known and unknown, for faith covers distances that reason, intellect, and science simply cannot. Through faith, we vanquish our fears, and in each sunrise we behold a promise of opportunity instead of anxiety. But this is a choice. We choose to believe as surely as we choose to brush our teeth, and we choose how we will approach each day. Living from the center, therefore, does not mean that we'll always understand what God is doing in our lives; rather, it means we have faith that God will lead us through.
Prayer Focus:What doubts do I need to give to God?
January 5 Help Wanted
Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she said to herself, "If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well."—Matthew 9:20–21 (NRSV)
——Matthew 9:20–21 (NRSV)
After several hours in the van, we turned off the highway onto a long dirt lane. You could see the house from the road—how it sagged in the middle, broken like a loaf of communion bread. John and I hopped out of the van to have a look around and see if someone might be home. We eased onto the porch, gave two solid knocks, and waited.
Soon, a short, stout woman appeared. We explained to her that we were with the church and that we wanted to do some work on her house. We said it wouldn't cost her a thing. I thought she'd be excited. She wasn't. I thought she'd invite us in, give us a tour of the place, tell us exactly what needed work. She didn't. Five minutes later, we were back in the van, going back the way we had come.
A week later, I'm still thinking about that lady who didn't want our help. Most people in her situation would have jumped at the opportunity she rejected. How can one with so much need turn away hands so eager to help? Even now, it bothers me—not because she didn't want our help, but because it reminded me of the many times I've rejected God's help. How often I have turned away from God, refusing to allow him to pull me from the mire of my circumstances. How many times he has reached out to me and I have been too frightened to take his hand, afraid of the changes it would require.
Living from the center requires that we accept God's help to battle the sin in our life. Like the lady in search of healing, we must seek the grace offered by our Savior; we must take his hand if we are ever to be made whole.
Prayer Focus:How have I rejected God's help in my life?
January 6 Letting Go
"Submit to God and be at peace with him; in this way prosperity will come to you."
—Job 22:21 (NIV)
When I was growing up, we used to play a game called Mercy. You and your opponent would lock hands, palm to palm, and start squeezing. Very quickly your knuckles would turn white from the pressure, and tiny beads of sweat would line your brow as the efforts of your hands and fingers passed down your arms, tightening every muscle along the way. Soon your whole body would be tense. You'd squeeze and twist fingers until, finally, the other person would give up, crying, "Mercy, mercy!"
The funny thing is that the game is much easier if you don't squeeze back. You see, all the tension is created by our own bodies, by our response to the pressure being applied. When we stop squeezing, the pressure lessens, and the pain begins to disappear. It's the struggle that creates the pain and causes the tension. It's just a matter of letting go.
But we're stubborn people. We hate to throw in the towel, to cry "Mercy" and give up. We're afraid to seem weak—afraid that if we let our guard down and stop squeezing for even a moment, we'll be taken advantage of. And sometimes we do need to hang on till the bloody end. After all, some things are worth the struggle.
Yet most things aren't. Often we struggle and worry over things we have absolutely no control over. We fret and stew and wonder What if? as though it were simply up to us. It's like worrying about the weather. Besides, some things are inevitable —like change, or death. We end up spending so much energy trying to put off the inevitable that we can't enjoy what we have right now.
So we must learn to accept what we cannot change; to put our faith in God and trust in his will for our lives; to never neglect the joys and opportunities each day presents; to accept whatever challenges and difficulties come our way.
Prayer Focus:What do I need to let go of today?
January 7 Mine!
Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, " Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land."
—Deuteronomy 15:11 (NRSV)
My niece, Heather, is two years old. I don't get to see her very often, but when I do, we always play together. Last weekend was no different. I'd hardly made it through the door when she asked me to play. Before I knew it, I was down on all fours, playing dinosaur and chasing her around the house.
Later we got down to some serious LEGO construction. The LEGO bricks were in a bucket, which I strategically placed between us. Heather reached in, grabbed a handful, and put her creative genius to work. I started to do the same, but then something happened. As I reached in for a piece, Heather said, "Mine!" and tried to take it from me. So I gave her the piece and tried again, only to be greeted with the same response. Then she just reached out and took the bucket.
It occurred to me that maybe we aren't much different. Most of us have everything we need. We have money in our pockets, nice clothes, good homes. We have more than enough, and yet, like little Heather, we are always grasping for more. We have a hard time sharing—afraid to loosen our grasp lest all we have be taken from us. So we pull our buckets closer, squeeze a little tighter, build our walls higher and higher.
Yet when we close ourselves off and fence ourselves in, we hold on to the least important things while letting potential blessings slip through our fingers. We forget what it means to be generous; we forget that God calls us to be a compassionate people. Most important, we forget that all good things are from God—that we are called not to be owners but stewards.
Prayer Focus:What am I clinging to other than God?
January 8 Satisfied
"I will feast the soul of the priests with abundance, and my people shall be satisfied with goodness, says the Lord. "
—Jeremiah 31:14 (RSV)
Sometimes I look at my dog, Jake, and I can't help feeling jealous. I'll come in after a long day at work to find him sprawled out on the floor, resting peacefully. He'll get up very slowly, let out a yawn, and give me a look that says, "What're you so worked up about?" And to tell you the truth, I don't know. After all, we live in the same apartment, go to the same parks, and, most nights, share the same bed. I'm not sure why his life seems so simple and mine seems so complicated.
But, then again, maybe it doesn't have to be. I think we complicate life by trying to do too much, and by worrying that we don't do enough. Yet all our hurrying and busyness, more often than not, just lead to fatigue and frustration.
Living from the center demands not only that we place God at the center, but also that we free ourselves from the need to be busy, from the need to seem productive. Instead, God calls us from a life of movement to a life of meaning.
Prayer Focus:How can I slow down and make myself more available to God?
January 9 The Quiet Game
"Be still, and know that I am God! "
—Psalm 46:10 (NRSV)
There's a game we used to play in first grade. It's been a while now, but I can still remember it. You've probably played it before: the quiet game. This is how it worked. After recess we'd come pouring into class, hot and sweaty, loud and laughing, bouncing off the walls. Then Mrs. Poe would kill the lights, and above our cries she would announce that it was "time to play the quiet game." Quickly, our voices fell silent; we put our heads down, hoping that our still bodies would prove how very quiet we were.
But that was a long time ago, and I think I was much better at it then. Sometimes it's hard for me to slow down now; it's hard to truly be still. Many days are scheduled away before they even begin. And often the days just seem to slip away from me: there's a meeting, an unexpected phone call, a few hours spent on a report; and before I know it, the day is almost over —with so much left undone. Perhaps this is true for many of us. We rush around; we hurry everywhere. Still, it seems we're just chasing our tails.
Maybe we could learn a lesson or two from my first-grade teacher. She found a way to quiet and calm us; she stilled our bodies so our minds could focus on the lessons ahead. With heads bent and hands folded, we were better prepared to listen. Sounds a bit like prayer, doesn't it? Prayer is like that: a calming of the soul, a quieting of the mind, so that we might truly hear God's call in our lives. It is my hope that we might learn to play the quiet game all over again; that in our daily living, we would learn to be still, and in the quiet moments that follow, begin to feel the soothing presence of the Living God.
Prayer Focus:How can I better learn to be still?
(Continues...)
Excerpted from 365 Meditations Young Adults by Esther Cho, Christian Coon, Christopher Cropsey, Richard Evans, James A. Harnish, Elizabeth Hunter, Kwasi Kena, Mitch McVicker, Barbara Mittman, Ellen Mohney, Jason, Moore, Julie O'Neal, Harriet P. Willimon, William H. Willimon, Sally D. Sharpe. Copyright © 2002 Dimensions for Living. Excerpted by permission of Dimensions for Living.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Introduction: What do you want to be when you "grow up"? Sally D. Sharpe, Editor,About the Writers,
JANUARY: Living from the Center Jason Moore,
FEBRUARY: Seeing God Ellen Mohney,
MARCH: Living Abundantly Christian Coon,
APRIL: Decisions, Decisions, Decisions Harriet P. Willimon and William H. Willimon,
MAY: God's Work of Renewal Mitch McVicker,
JUNE: Living Faithfully Julie O'Neal,
JULY: Christlike Relationships Christopher Cropsey,
AUGUST: Living with Integrity Kwasi Kena,
SEPTEMBER: Keeping Company—with God, with Ourselves, with Others Barbara Mittman,
OCTOBER: Life Questions Elizabeth Hunter,
NOVEMBER: Growing Toward Full Humanity Esther Cho and Richard Evans,
DECEMBER: The Overcomers James A. Harnish,