One piece of grief for a whole bowl of happiness

I'm currently sitting next to my son who is throwing an absolute fit about having to eat one piece of pasta (delicious, savory, creamy pasta) made by my beautiful wife. This one piece of rotini is small, about the size of a quarter, has become a death sentence on his high chair tray. You'd think it contains razor blades, rat poison and every other device used by evil strangers who pass out contaminated Halloween candy. One small piece of pasta that he could, and possibly would swallow whole any other time, but for some reason, and that reason is most likely because he's two, he simply refuses to eat this cursed piece of form flour and water. If he managed to somehow choke down this tiny morsel of demonic noodledom, he receive a whole bowl full of fresh cantaloup (a favorite dessert of this particular little foodie).

I may have made this worse by setting the bowl of heavenly fruit right next to me, and in front of him, while I'm typing this. Interspersed between screams of "all done" and "can'alope" are periods of silent longly over a bowl of sweet delicious fruit. However, one thing stands between this protesting toddler who's pushing the bounds of authority and a simple bowl of happiness...one, small piece of lukewarm pasta.

I wonder how many times I've delayed, or worse yet lost out on something due to my inability to deal with one, small dose of perceived discomfort. I say perceived because that is exactly what is troubling my son. He has perceived this small bit of dinner will be the death of him, yet if he only tried he would ask for more. In fact, he's eaten plates of this same dinner before, yet at this moment he can't bring himself to even give it a try. Has this happened to me? Have I miscalculated the cost of perceived suffering and avoided trying something that would have granted an amazing reward? Or has God, in His grace seen that I am, at times, a whiny little toddler and granted me what He saw fit?

As I type this Griffin is enjoying his bowl of cantaloup, indulging in the sweet juice of each piece. I have reassured him he is loved and he said "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Meanwhile there is a lone piece of rotini sitting rejected and cold on his tray.

Enough grief, enjoy the fruit.

Posted via email from lifestream of a basic being

One piece of grief for a whole bowl of happiness

I'm currently sitting next to my son who is throwing an absolute fit about having to eat one piece of pasta (delicious, savory, creamy pasta) made by my beautiful wife. This one piece of rotini is small, about the size of a quarter, has become a death sentence on his high chair tray. You'd think it contains razor blades, rat poison and every other device used by evil strangers who pass out contaminated Halloween candy. One small piece of pasta that he could, and possibly would swallow whole any other time, but for some reason, and that reason is most likely because he's two, he simply refuses to eat this cursed piece of form flour and water. If he managed to somehow choke down this tiny morsel of demonic noodledom, he receive a whole bowl full of fresh cantaloup (a favorite dessert of this particular little foodie).

I may have made this worse by setting the bowl of heavenly fruit right next to me, and in front of him, while I'm typing this. Interspersed between screams of "all done" and "can'alope" are periods of silent longly over a bowl of sweet delicious fruit. However, one thing stands between this protesting toddler who's pushing the bounds of authority and a simple bowl of happiness...one, small piece of lukewarm pasta.

I wonder how many times I've delayed, or worse yet lost out on something due to my inability to deal with one, small dose of perceived discomfort. I say perceived because that is exactly what is troubling my son. He has perceived this small bit of dinner will be the death of him, yet if he only tried he would ask for more. In fact, he's eaten plates of this same dinner before, yet at this moment he can't bring himself to even give it a try. Has this happened to me? Have I miscalculated the cost of perceived suffering and avoided trying something that would have granted an amazing reward? Or has God, in His grace seen that I am, at times, a whiny little toddler and granted me what He saw fit?

As I type this Griffin is enjoying his bowl of cantaloup, indulging in the sweet juice of each piece. I have reassured him he is loved and he said "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Meanwhile there is a lone piece of rotini sitting rejected and cold on his tray.

Enough grief, enjoy the fruit.

Posted via email from lifestream of a basic being

Ephesians 3 t

⁸Although I am less than the least of all God's people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, ⁹and to make plain to everyone the administration of this mystery, which for ages past was kept hidden in God, who created all things.

Verse 8 was the verse that solidified my call to ministry. I was at a summer camp and during the alter time at the end I remember praying and weeping and then God gave me Ephesians 3:8.  I was 13 and had never read it before, but when I did that day, it became clear that I was to be a pastor.  

Paul's language in this verse is awesome, I still don't fully grasp it, although this is what I do get:

"Although I am less than the least of all God's people," - I never have killed anyone, put anyone in jail, or for that matter even persecuted anyone for their faith, but I continually use this to humble myself.  It's easy to get a big head (for me at least) and when I need to knock myself down a few pegs, I just repeat the fact that I am less than the least of God's people.  It helps put me in my place.

"this grace was given me" - I'm not God's gift to anything, rather, it is because of God's grace, given as a gift that I am even able to be saved let alone lead a church.  His grace bought my life out of the pit of hell, from being a rebel to being His son.

"to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ" - At first I use to think this defined a part of my call, ministry to non-Jews.  However, if you read Ephesians in context, Paul's ministry is uniting peoples under the family of God.  Jews were/are the chosen ones, but Paul's role in the Kingdom is to open the doors to the Gentiles.  He's welcoming the historically unwelcomed, and that where I think it sets the stage for my call.  It is a call to redemptive influence, and a call to wholeness, found in Jesus.

What are your thoughts regarding chapter 3?

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