THROWING OUT THE RULES

A couple days ago I tried to bring more inner peace to myself by declaring: “No Rules Day.”  It didn’t work!  My inner “rule keeper” is very strong and always on the job.  But not all these inner dictums are even God’s rules.  They are someone else’s rules for me, or my own rules for myself, or society’s rules, or what I perceive to be society’s rules. Can you relate?

Where is that fabled inner peace?

Romans 5 says:

“Therefore since we have been justified by faith, we have PEACE with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access through faith into this GRACE in which we now stand.   

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope.   

And hope does not disappoint us because God has poured out his LOVE into our hearts by the Holy Spirit whom he has given us.”

This is different than “peace by throwing out the rules.”  This is “peace because someone paid my way.”  And even more, what fills up our empty hearts is: “someone paid my way because they love me.”

I need to be loved.  When I feel love from someone, I can sense my inner self warming.  It’s hard to explain, but it puts everything into place in my life.

“Peace by throwing out the rules” doesn’t work because – even though we need peace desperately -- we can’t attain it by ignoring several other very important needs.

The need for justice

The need for grace

The need for belonging

The need for love

JUSTICE

The sense of justice is ingrained.  It is the source of conscience in us.  If a rule is broken, it must be paid for.  If a wrong is committed, it must be made right.  It’s like a mathematic equation – what you do to one side, you must do to the other side – otherwise everything is “lopsided” with the world.

GRACE

Our need for canceling our past debts does not quite fill the bill, however.  What about the next five minutes?  We sense we will mess up again.  We are aware deep within ourselves that we can’t help it.  We need more than forgiveness – we need to walk in grace.  Grace is when you can’t mess up.  When someone likes you so much that whatever you do is going to be explained in the kindest way.

BELONGING

Having our past debts and even future ones canceled still leaves us empty.  What are we here for?  There’s a sense of emptiness that is only filled through true connectedness, true belonging.  This passage says we have that, too.  Not only are our debts, past and future, crossed out as on a balance sheet, but we have attained grace “through Christ.”  It is all the difference between being pardoned and walking out of prison alone, or walking out of prison and into a welcoming family. 

LOVE

Being pardoned and welcomed is almost the whole package.  But not quite.  It is real love we are needing.  Unconditional, no strings attached, love.  So often sung about, so often written about, so rarely experienced in this world.  Why do we have “hope” in the midst of a world where we have been pardoned but there is still suffering?  Because we have unconditional love inside our own hearts, love that comes from God.  This is something that you have either experienced or you haven’t.  Some may scoff, but it’s something everyone needs: “God has poured out his love into our hearts…”

Now I feel more peaceful.

YAY, GOD, FOR MAKING ME!

Happy Birthday to me!

Yeah, God, for making me!

I have so much to be thankful for.  It was a miracle I was born – alive and healthy.  I survived a divisive home life.  I survived a debilitating sickness at age 30.  I survived domestic abuse and a contentious divorce.  I survived a major depressive episode, panic attacks and debilitating anxiety.  A herniated disk did not keep me down.  Slander and robbery did not defeat me.  I’m a Survivor.  Even more – I’m an OVERCOMER!

Jesus did not say we would merely survive our troubles.  He said: “Be of good cheer because I have overcome the world.”  We don’t just have enough, but we have “exceedingly, abundantly beyond” all we could ask or think.”  We do not just get along, but we are made “more than conquerors” through Him who loved us.

So my TRIBUTE today

Is to Jesus Christ

Who has raised me up

From all these troubles

And promised for my

Future that:

“Surely goodness and mercy

Will follow me

All the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the

House of the Lord

Forever.”

THE COURTING COUCH

The davenport in the front parlor was made of flower-patterned needlepoint cushions framed in a warm-tone caramel wood.  On it sat, stiffly poised on the edge, a young man in a brown suit, about age seventeen.

The youth didn’t have long to wait, for a young girl soon bounced into the room and

did a little skip as she neared the Victrola on the side table.  Ralph, the young suitor, stood as she entered, but an amused grin spread over his face.  This was not the date he had been anticipating, but her younger eleven-year old sister.  Erma was late again.

While Erma remained in the bedroom, teasing her hair, changing her shoes three times, and powdering her nose, little sister Ruth was in the front room having the time of her life.  Or, as she assumed, entertaining her sister’s date so that he had the time of his life.  She cranked up the song on the Victrola,  Ralph obligingly took her in his arms and danced her around the room, and as the music slowly wound down, Ruth broke away to wind it up again.  She just knew that each of her sister’s beaus liked her the best!

Meanwhile, Erma was still struggling.  She had done everything she could to force her hair into the style of the day – a short wavy bob with pin curls on the sides.  The pin curls wouldn’t stay curled.  Her date was waiting.  She could hear the Victrola start again for the fifth time.  Finally, grabbing her scissors she clipped off a lock of hair from in front of each ear, twirled it into the proper shape, and stabbed a bobby pin through each curl in just the right place on each side of her head.

Later that evening, when Ralph walked Erma back from the movies, the parlor was darkened and the house was silent.  Erma lit the gas lamp on the wall, and they sat together on the sofa.  Secure in the near-darkness from prying eyes, and aware of each others' bodies so close, they began to kiss.  What they didn’t know was that little Ruth was hiding behind the curtain which separated her room from the living room.  She heard every movement and every heavy breath coming from the sofa. 

And when Ralph’s affectionate fingers touched the side of Erma’s face, Ruth clearly heard Ralph’s gasp and Erma’s high-pitched scream as the loose pin curls fell away into Ralph’s astonished hands.

A SPECIAL DATE

Trying to impress a date was an extreme sport back in the day – and there were many events in this decathlon of the sexes.  And also many epic fails.

          Brunette, hazel-eyed Ruth was in high school when she was allowed to start dating.  Friday night was the big date night.  A certain young man asked her out for a special dinner after several dates.  She looked forward to it as she laid out her clothes for school the night before, set her hair in pin curls, and planned the date-night dress she would change into before her young man arrived at 7 pm.

          She breezed through all her classes that day, being a good student – English, Typing, Mathematics – all except for Biology, because they had to dissect a frog that day.

          As she approached the science classroom, she inhaled the stomach-turning stench of formaldehyde.  She grimaced as she spied the row of jars containing pickled frogs of various sizes.  But it was no use to turn away – the deed had to be done.  She and her classmates spread the hapless frogs out onto tables, followed the teacher’s directions, and soon there were amphibian body parts spread everywhere.

          She was never so glad to get out of a classroom when the bell rang.  Running home and filling up the clawfoot tub with hot water – she tried to scrub off the stench –and the memory – of the day’s activities.  She was going on a date with a handsome man!

          Finally, dusted in talcum and dressed to the nines, she emerged in the front room

to find her date waiting.  He opened the car door for her, and they chatted pleasantly on the way to the restaurant he had picked.

          When they arrived, he whispered something to the maî·tre d', pulled back a chair and seated her, and sat opposite her with a half-grin on his face.

          The thought crossed her mind that he was planning something secret – this was a special date – but she suppressed the thought and grinned to herself, “Don’t spoil it,” she mused.  There was enough to enjoy just as it was, with the bustle of waiters balancing food trays, couples being escorted to their seats, and a well-groomed and cologne-scented man sitting across from her.

          They sipped their iced tea and chatted about school.  When she told him about science class he got a funny look on his face.

Just then the waiter emerged carrying a beautiful tray with a silver cover.  She gasped and tried to suppress a horrified “squawk” as he gracefully lifted the lid and presented the dish.  Frog Legs!!

DATING -- BACK IN THE DAY

Dating was a fine art – back in the 30’s and 40’s.  Young men and women, ages sixteen to married, thought about the date, planned the date, dressed for the date, and then told stories about the date for years to come.  They went to dances, to church picnics, to movies, on hikes, and out to dinner.  There was a lot less “hanging out” with no plan. 

There was also less “hanky panky.”  Part of the reason was that the expectation of everyone in general was that a good girl saved herself until marriage, a good man was the one with honorable intentions who wanted a good girl to marry, and everyone else didn’t count. 

Also, the watchful eyes of parents and all other older adults (i.e. aunts, uncles, grandparents, pastors, teachers, Sunday School teachers and the neighbor’s mother) were attentive to the goings-on among all singles, and so dating couples operated with much less privacy.

Mothers taught their sons how to spot a good girl and how to treat a good girl.  Young men showed up at the front door in dress clothes and were freshly washed and shaved.  They introduced themselves to the parents, sat in the parlor waiting with dad, or grandma, or little sis or whoever was there, until the girl emerged from her boudoir, fashionably late and freshly coated with a mist of hairspray and just-blotted lipstick.

He took her arm, promised to have her home by 11 o’clock, and they were off.

          Having said all this, mishaps do happen to the best-laid plans, and here are a few my mother told me: