I've moved my blog (and added a few more) to a mac website. you can actually subscribe to the blog and recieve email updates.
enjoy!
http://web.me.com/stephanie.moors/Be_Free_/Be_Free_.html
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Recentering
I am feeling judged all the time lately.
Judged for the way we choose to eat and live.
Judged for the friends I have (and don't have).
It is almost completely overwhelming. Honestly, my first instinct is to find a place to hide.
I conjure up images of smooth beaches and cool waves; warm sun spilling out over the sand and water like a blanket. A place that it totally empty. No one but myself, my man, my babies and the dog. How long could I hide here? How long could I live without the people I am running from?
The problem is that I hate conflict. I hate to feel unacceptable. I hate being the source of frustration or anger.
But I can't hide. Let's be honest, I'm too poor to hide. :) And hiding would only cause more conflict, which would only drive me deeper into my little hole.
So, I guess I have to stay where I am and attempt to sort myself out.
Because I am a judger too. I judge people I don't know, don't understand, and don't like. I follow other people's judgements towards others more often than not. It is easier to look down on someone else than to consider my own inadequacy.
Don't get me wrong, I FIGHT this tendency with my whole heart. I have absolutely no desire to judge another human being. Their pain only causes me more pain.
I've been trying to tell myself that PEOPLE don't really have a hand in measuring my adequacy. I am acceptable only because I have asked to be bound to the altar and have chosen a way of life that will require me to surrender my brokenness over and over again. If someone despises something about me and it causes me to shrink back and writhe in agony, I have set my heart on a fading hope.
Who can affirm me to the point of life?
Who can resurrect my feeble heart when I have been crushed by someone's opinions?
Ahhh..
I have momentarily lost my center. I have become unbalanced.
Life seems to be a constant repositioning. I am always having to step back to find my breath again. I am always having to remember who God is.
Today is no different.
People don't like some things about me.
Okay. I guess it happens. And if it is truly about me, then I might lose my footing altogether.
But my life is set on something else.
So, I guess I move forward. Not to a perfect beach clothed in solitude, but to my life and it's inhabitants... To Jesus, at the very center of my life, brimming over with the kind of love that causes a man to race to the woman he loves - to pay her dowry.
I am my Beloved's.
My Beloved is mine.
Monday, August 3, 2009
she is everywhere
I've watched it happen from my own house.
A young man forgets wisdom; he dismisses insight, and he walks too close to her house.
The house where she waits.
In the time of shadows and secrets she meets him, dressed as a prostitute, skilled at taking an advantage.
She is loud like a blaring commercial.
She is a wanderer, riding the waves of the internet looking for her prey.
She stands over the street, a giant billboard, tantalizing and seductive.
She is in the market, sprawled over magazine covers, half clothed and whispering.
At every corner she lies in wait.
She doesn't wait to be approached.
She seizes him and kisses him.
With a bold face she tells him,
"I've come to find you; looking everywhere to seek you.
My bed is ready and will quench your thirst.
Come, let us take our fill of "love" till morning.
My husband is gone; there is a thrill in knowing that I am never really your's.
You will never have to commit to me."
She persuades him and with smooth talk she compels him.
At once he follows her,
as an ox goes to slaughter,
or as a stag is caught fast as an arrow pierces it's liver,
as a bird rushes into a snare;
he does not know that it will cost him his life.
So, listen to me.
Cling to these words.
Don't let your heart turn aside to her ways;
do not stray into her paths,
because she will lay you low as she has done to everyone else.
Her house is only a rest stop on the way to death.
-Proverbs 7:7-27 (in my own words)
A young man forgets wisdom; he dismisses insight, and he walks too close to her house.
The house where she waits.
In the time of shadows and secrets she meets him, dressed as a prostitute, skilled at taking an advantage.
She is loud like a blaring commercial.
She is a wanderer, riding the waves of the internet looking for her prey.
She stands over the street, a giant billboard, tantalizing and seductive.
She is in the market, sprawled over magazine covers, half clothed and whispering.
At every corner she lies in wait.
She doesn't wait to be approached.
She seizes him and kisses him.
With a bold face she tells him,
"I've come to find you; looking everywhere to seek you.
My bed is ready and will quench your thirst.
Come, let us take our fill of "love" till morning.
My husband is gone; there is a thrill in knowing that I am never really your's.
You will never have to commit to me."
She persuades him and with smooth talk she compels him.
At once he follows her,
as an ox goes to slaughter,
or as a stag is caught fast as an arrow pierces it's liver,
as a bird rushes into a snare;
he does not know that it will cost him his life.
So, listen to me.
Cling to these words.
Don't let your heart turn aside to her ways;
do not stray into her paths,
because she will lay you low as she has done to everyone else.
Her house is only a rest stop on the way to death.
-Proverbs 7:7-27 (in my own words)
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