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Drop in anytime. SelahV

WHAT MATTERS? What really matters today?

I have a doctor's appointment. I don't want to go. I told my daughter that I was thinking about calling and rescheduling it. She replied, "Mom, they won't have enough time to have anyone else fill that spot. And you're going to cancel just because you don't feel like going?"

Wow! Did that pinch!

It makes me think about commitments I've made to the Lord in the past. Things I didn't follow through on just because I didn't feel like doing it. The excuses I made: I'm tired. I don't have enough money to tithe this week. I want to do something else that sounds like so much more fun. There are other people who can do that; why am I always the one who has to do it? I didn't mean I'd surrender all just because I was singing "I Surrender All." I don't really want You to "Have Thine Own Way, Lord"; I want to have things my way.

What matters right now? I've got 25 minutes to get dressed and get to my doctor's appointment. So I gotta run. Talk to you later, SelahV. [copyrighted,selahvtoday,2007]

WHO NEEDS A REVIVAL, ANYWAY?

There seems to be some call for revival in America today. I read one blogger's post in which she prayed that it begin in her. I admire her introspective look at herself. I was reminded of the song line that said, "let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me."

I read another blogger's comments in which they called for Almighty to indeed send a revival among the SBC. I heard "Send a Great Revival in My Soul" dancing through my mind. (It's in the Broadman Hymnal.) So, I can echo that call, too.

I read another blog in which that blog host had just preached a revival. And I was assured there had indeed been a revival.

So where is the revival? What does it take to have a revival? What does it take to get God in heaven to recognize we really want what we are asking for? What must I do to get His attention?

Can I pray for others to change their stinking thinking? Can I ask God to ignite a fire beneath all the board seats, pulpits and piano benches across the land? Can I go vote on Tuesday in my hometown in Oklahoma? Can I write the editor a letter? Can I pass an amendment to the Constitution of the United States? Can I take my case to the Supreme Court or the Southern Baptist Convention floor in San Antonio next June?

I went to my old faithful Amplified Version of the Bible. There it was in black and white. I knew I'd remembered seeing it somewhere. Time and time again, my husband preached it just before the evangelist came to preach a revival in our church. Indulge me, please:

God was answering Solomon's prayer which had accompanied the giving of a bunch of sacrifices. The sacrifices were consumed with a lightening bolt from Heaven. [Whoa! Cool stuff happened in those days when folks wanted revival.]So God appears to Solomon in the night, (a bit like He did to me last evening).

And according to my Amplified Version of the Holy Word, God said, "If I shut up Heaven so no rain falls, or if I command locusts to devour the land, or if I send pestilence among MY people, if MY people who are called by MY name shall humble themselves, pray, seek, crave and require of necessity MY face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from Heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land." II Chronicles 7:13-14. [actually, ya oughta read the whole 7th chapter, it's gooooood!]

So, I thought about what the Lord had told me. And I am reading this passage of His Holy Word. And I am certain I am one of His people. So it is up to me, me first, me primarily. I can't do anything about other folks. Only God knows if they are His people. Only He can tell who is a tare and who is the wheat. Only He can separate the goats from the sheep. Only He can tell who hears His voice. There will be many who deceive me on this earth. They will appear to have fed the hungry, and clothe the naked and have given a drink of cold water and have visited prisons. All in His name. But I simply can't tell who His people are.

Since there has not been a revival in the world in my lifetime, (like the kind I imagine happened at Pentacost) I'd say we have a few more people who are called by His name who haven't read God's instructions to Solomon. And I really wish we'd get the word out, cause I really do want a revival.

I'm tired of the drought in Oklahoma. I want my garden to flourish and produce more than blossoms that die at the first 105 degree light on Monday morning. I want the locusts who devour every new tomato that comes from surviving blossoms to implode into the finest fruit that was sliced and slapped between two pieces of homemade bread. And I'm so tired of sitting in the backyard, trying to enjoy the beauty of God's kingdom, while swatting mosquitoes and waving my hands at the gnats' frenzy in the air.

So, I think I'll get down now, and read those instructions to Solomon, one more time or two. At least until I get it right. And I suppose that's what matters to eternity as far as I'm concerned today. [copyrighted 2006 SelahV]

ONLY GOD CAN MAKE NOTHING

I heard a cute joke the other day. A scientist was arguing with God that he, too, could create a man such as God did. God took the challenge. The scientist reached down and scooped up some dirt. Then God said, "Oh no. Get your own dirt."

Remember Lucifer when he thought he was smarter than God? Down he went. And along went a bunch of his buddies, too. Now all around us, he lurks. Oh, he thinks he is cunning and clever. And yes, he is able to twist our words, and misinterpret our sentences to others in the world so we are all caught in a gnat's frenzy. But, he's not got much of a future. Not one I want anyway.

And remember those folks trying to build a tower to heaven? God whops them on the head and causes them to lose their ability to communicate with each other. Scatters them like I use to do ants building ant-hills around their holes because a storm was brewing in the air. (Now how do you suppose ants know it's gonna rain? Even weathermen can't figure that out.)

I tune into the news and listen to those folks discuss how to solve this problem and that. I see them pointing fingers and slinging mud. I watch them dig for dirt where there is stains leftover from spring-cleaning a closet in 1962. And they think they have a market on ideas. On what this politician or that politician ought to do. They even--in this country of separation of church and state--try to tell Christians how they ought to behave. Like a heathen should advise a child of God of anything. My mind floats in bubbles bred from swamp water. It's too much to comprehend.

Why do people suppose they are smarter than God? With all the debates and dialog regarding God's Sovereignty and ability to save whomever, whenever and however, some bloggers are actually suggesting God is powerless. I actually read that question on a site recently. Paraphrased they asked, 'if so and so believes that, and so and so believes this, then doesn't that make God powerless?' That must have been a rhethorical question, don't ya think? The kind the preacher asks in the pulpit, but to which he really doesn't expect a response?

Surely NO ONE thinks God is powerless to do ANYTHING, do they? I mean, other than atheists who don't even acknowledge there is a God, yet keep arguing about Something (matter, theory, or idea) that doesn't exist. If something (Christian's God) is non-existent, then that something is nothing. And if nothing consists of nothing, then why do Atheist's fear ignorant people who call themselves Christians praying to Nothing--which in my belief is truly Something. The Almighty Something that created all there is from Nothing. Now that is Something, don't ya think? [copyrighted 2006 SelahV]

DO YOU ALWAYS SAY WHAT YOU MEAN?

I try to. I want to be understood. But then again, I don't always understand me, so how can I expect others to?

Sometimes I find myself speaking or writing in all kinds of colors. Shading white with grey when I want it to be black. It wasn't till I started blogging that I found out that red was the color that seemed to attract people. (OR inflame according to folks that analyze colors.) With bloggers, red is the color of a fish that leads readers away from the actual intent of another's point. Me? Well, for the most part I try to write in black and white. But ever so often, I write in grey because I get to fretting I'll offend someone's sensibilities. Or to write it like I see it...will have them hating not my words but me. (that blasted inferiority complex I battle)

It's like every word one says or writes anymore is up for a constitutional debate on political correctness. I want to play in the game, like my friend, Dani Lee, but I really don't like the way folks play the game. The rules keep changing. In the middle of the game. Mid-sentence, so to speak.

I don't know why a person can say one thing and mean it exactly the way they say it. Then, for some reason, the folks that hear it or read it, get a totally different meaning from the speaker's intentions. But it happens...every day. In press conferences and recliners. In kitchens and bedrooms. In Congress and Senate. In the White House and the outhouse. In Red states and Blue states. In Bagdad and Jerusalem. In Pulpits and Pews. In books and in blog sites.

But one thing is certain. It's as clear, to me, as an Oklahoma sky on a cloudless day. The Bible means one thing. The Speaker makes clear His intentions. And if anyone gets confused or thinking black isn't black or white isn't white, then they are absolutely on the wrong Website. God understands exactly who He is and that is what truly matters.

DIRTY DISHES AND OTHER NASTY THINGS

So I'm washing last nite's dishes and this thought comes to me. Why don't you wash these things right after ya'll eat? My dear fastidious mother-in-law's voice echoes in my ear. Gotta love that impeccable lady! She never put off doing (til the evening news was over) one blessed thing--including the pan that shoulda been soaked overnite instead of scrubbing her fingers to the bone and using up all her elbow grease).

Not my mother-in-law. I love her. She produced the finest man this earth could possibly offer since the year 2000 a.d.

Don't have a clue how she did it. Can't pass on any advice on childrearing. I truly blew it when it comes to that. God have mercy on my children, (well, child now). :.--..(.

Back to the dishes. That overnite scum is harder to remove when it is left longer than the evening news before it's cleaned off. Before I could even begin to load rinsed dishes in my dishwasher, I had to get the potato peelings out of my (food-disposal-less) sink. Nasty. What began as a perfectly good potato, is peeled away and left discarded in a sink with no disposal unit. (other than my hands or my husband's)

And why should he sully his calloused worked-all-day fingers, anyway? He didn't leave them peelings in the sink. And he didn't even ask for the clam chowder without red-herring in it. If he'd had a choice in the matter, (which he always submits to me in kitchen matters) he woulda had beef stew. He loves beef stew. Meat is chewier...more manly...kinda like a manwich if you will).

Anyway, I got ta chasing rabbits down holes again. Sorry. (not really). But, backto the dishes.

I feel led by God to clean up them dishes. Even though I have no problem letting my husband help me, should he want to. But, personally speaking...he's got better things to do. He's working on some pretty important projects right now. His hands are needed to build some homes for some incoming soldiers. So while he would help, if I asked him to, it is totally unnecessary. I am perfectly capable of grabbing them nasty water-soaked peelings and getting them out to the compost heap where they belong.

It may take a few months for them peelings to decay and morphe into the richness of soil God intended them to be in the first place. But that's okay, I'm patient. And so are the productive earthworms that feed on that stuff come Spring. Me and them worms are gonna fix this Oklahoma hardened red-clay.

My garden is gonna produce so much more fruit than this past year. Next year it will surpass any crop anyone in my circle of friends have ever seen. It's gonna be a bumper crop.

There will be no drought. There will be no fear of hailstorms. There will be no satanic grubworms to eat away at those tender sprouts that come forth from the sower's seeds.

There will be Sunshine aplenty. And the Dew will cover my garden's earth at nite. And the baskets will overflow in an Abundance. And God will get the glory. GOD.

Emanuel. God with us, not against us. The LORD, our refuge and strength. Where the cleft of His hand hideth my soul and forsakes me not. GOD. The Lily that need not worry or toil. The Alfa and Omega who always has the last Word--no matter how many we say or print.

GOD. The everlasting everflowing Fountain where none shall ever thirst again. And the Lamb will nibble at the fruit He produced as a result of branches abiding in the Vine.

And when the Almighty Hand of God fuses His Spirit within his true Bride, there will be a wedding day like my granddaughter and her groom's list of invited guests have never seen. (check out SelahVtoday.blogspot.com--The Bridegroom Cometh) And the potato peelings will be regenerated. The dishes will be washed clean. And the scum, dregs, hay and stubble will join their place in a sewer made long before I ever moved to this house.

As to me...I could care less about who attacks me...or my friends. Cause Christ is gonna beat them keyboard-tapping swords made of human fingers into plowshares, spades and shovels. And He will be the deciding vote on any dysfunctional blog, or opinion that dares place itself in the eternal pages of God's history book.

Finally. The dishes are done. Now I can feed my face some oatmeal (for fiber, mind you), swig down some cheap no-name-brand coffee and read some Psalms to refresh my heart and soul. And that is all that matters anyway.

BLUEFISH, TINMAN AND OTHER DIVERSIONS


It’s really getting hard to talk these days. Or write. Whichever the case may be.

Every time I turn around and get to following somebody’s point. Somebody says they are talking about scarecrows, bluefish or some other thing. I think to myself, is it me? I thought that writer was talking about a black hole and low and behold, it ain’t a black hole, it’s a red herring. Now I have enough trouble staying on point and not chasing rabbits (that means going down another trail from which you were on before getting back on the trail of where you were in the first place.) Uh….where was I?

Oh, yeah, diversions and rabbits. Staying on point without having to worry about every hole I go crawling into being turned into Alice and Wonderland’s opportunity of a Tea Party set for five. (Was that author really doing LSD when he wrote that?)

And I dare say that most "pastors" (note I say most, not all) haven’t got time to be bantering about strawmen when they are talking about tinmen, cause they need to be out fishing for those bluefish, not baiting folks with fake worms trying to catch eastcoast crabs with red herrings.

(Did you know that catfish feed on the scum from the bottom of the river in the Potomac? I grew up alongside of that river and it is a folktale that George Washington threw a silver dollar across that river. My brothers tried to do that once and they got to fighting over that tale and mama set them straight with a pumpknot on their heads. {case ya’ll don’t know what a pumpknot is, it is a knuckle planted squarely on top of the tender part of your head with a quick pump action like on a rifle that The Rifleman used (I’m telling my age now) and it raises up a huge knot on your noggin. [which is simply your scalp]). Where was I? Oh yeah.

Anyway, I have some really good pastor friends (more than one) who just wanta dialog about theology cause we pewgals are so bloody ignorant that they can’t possibly dialog with us. And they wanta do it in a civilized [without bickering, name-calling and turning their noses up at folks] fashion. [manner, way]

They wanna do it [dialog] without word-twisting, [turning everyone's words around to mean something they don't mean] in good humor, without judgement,[thinking they are better than somebody else] mudslinging, name-calling and fear of someone dumping every word they ever wrote into a huge cauldron and serving it up as their character, viewpoint and integrity.

Ever looked at one of them pictures that when ya look at it, you see two different pictures, depending on whether you focus most on the black print or the white surface? Sometimes ya see a young woman in a fancy feather hat, sometimes ya see an old hag? (kinda sounds like me before I get dressed on Sunday morning, now that I think about it)

Anyway, in case ya haven’t gotten the point of this blog, I’ll give you my point. Bluefish are better than red herrings. And tinmen have bigger hearts than strawmen. And strawmen, though filled with "scholarly" OZ-induced mentality, are still simply scarecrows with big black birds perched on their shoulders cawing and crowing the same old songs while leaving white trails of stuff all over that poor straw-stuffed man’s patched Tennessee jeans.

And just in case you stop by to read my lowly little post, let me conclude with this. I’m just a diversion. Like the title of my blog says. I’m writing this in honor of all the tinmen, bluefish and diversified folks who need a bit of humor or stupidity for a moment. I don’t know about you, but I’ve laughed my head off. Cause, for the life of me I have no idea what I just said. And I guess that’s all that matters with a diversion, anyway.