Close Encounters of a Biblical Kind

My husband and I were watching Ancient Aliens on the History channel. Every idea they present is more fascinating and mind-boggling than the next. From cave dwellings deep underground that pre-date recorded history by thousands (millions?) of years (don't quote me, I'm terrible with numbers), star-gates, helmeted astronaut artifacts... 


Even Bible stories we take for granted sound like something from a sci-fi movie like Sodom and Gomora destroyed by what is described as a bomb, angels floating down vertically from the sky as though with a jet-pack, Jacob's ladder as some kind of ramp from a hovering spacecraft...the examples go on and on.


After the program, my husband who is more of a doubting Thomas asked if all of these interpretations precluded the existence of God. Before I answered him I said a little prayer to myself asking for the right words. Since my relationship with God is new, I haven't studied enough to quote bible verses (thank God for Google) and my confidence is low--even as I write this blog. Still, I blundered on (in both cases.)


I said something like, "Even if we discover conclusive evidence that aliens have visited earth, to me that is even more proof of a higher power with intelligence beyond our comprehension. It seems as though these more evolved beings came here to teach us what they learned from the very same loving God...The Creator of us all.


He said, "I don't understand." 


And I said, "God doesn't expect us to understand everything--only to love each other and have faith."


Hebrews 11:3 (ESV)
By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible.


John 20:29 (NIV)
"Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."

Ikea is not hell. Purgatory? Maybe.

Every time I go to Ikea I can smell the heavenly scent of cinnamon rolls baking and I intend to get one. But after rolling through the store like a Swedish meatball in the oxymoronic maze-like chaos of knocked-down organizers, and then standing in line behind the dregs of society (and their whining offspring) to check out, I can't find the door fast enough. By that time all I want is fresh air to save me from the cinnamon stench.

But this time I was determined. Like a badge of honor I had earned my cinnamon roll! And I was getting one!!! Even Steve's you've-got-to-be-kidding--I'm-not-standing-in-another-line expression didn't faze me.

"You load up the car," I commanded. "I'll get the rolls."

"Rolls?" he queried with an emphasis on the s as he gave me that raised eyebrow look. (Yeah, right. Like he isn't going to eat 4 of them before the night's over...)

"Yes, it's a special deal. Six for $4." After all, if you're going to dedicate another fifteen minutes of your life, you might as well get a six-pack of fresh-from-the-oven goodness, right?

Only one snackbar guy manned the bank of five cash registers, because, I guess, management thought not many customers would be hungry or thirsty at 4 on a Saturday afternoon. The line hadn't moved in at least 10 minutes and I could feel Steve's heated impatience all the way from inside our car in the parking lot. 

So there we stood. The scowling lady in front of me in the jog pants she should have thrown out two sizes ago, who insisted on pushing her cart through the line even though it obviously wouldn't fit. She kept looking down at my comfy, shopping-at-big-box-store flip-flops as though they weren't appropriate for January. And the high-strung woman behind me with her oversized recycle bag of Ikea crapola slung over her shoulder, hitting me in the back as she fidgeted. Her bag bumped me one more time, and as I turned to give her my most loathsome glare, I stopped, taking a deep breath. 

"Wait a minute," I thought to myself. "This isn't the way a Christian is supposed to act." (I'm new at this Christian thing so I have to talk myself through challenging situations now.) "Why am I so agitated and judgmental of these poor souls around me? Aren't we all here for the same reason...bonded together by pressed particle board and cinnamon?"

So instead of my mean look, I said, "Boy, you've got a lot of good stuff. Ikea  always gets me on those impulse purchases I can't live without." She laughed and apologized for her bag, and told me about the great buy she got on canvas cubbies.

Then I explained to the lady in front of me how I was always determined to get a cinnamon roll, but then lost my will (to live) by the end. But not this time! She laughed and said she knew exactly what I meant. Then she pointed out they had just delivered a fresh batch from the kitchen and I would want to get my box from the left stack. What a nice, helpful lady! 

Instead of the hellish vibe surrounding us only moments before, we were suddenly enveloped with comradery and a simple kind of joy. We were chatting and laughing and soon I was headed for the door with a warm box of rolls in my arms.

 I've reflected on that scene at Ikea several times since. Was this instantaneous shift in the atmosphere some kind of magic? Had I experienced a miracle? No, not really. It was a conscious choice I made--that anyone can make! The King taught me to choose joy instead of despair. And (as my added bonus) it seemed like the attitudes of others around me also changed. 

I was no longer judgmental and impatient, but actually felt a kinship and yes, even love for my fellow humans as we waited for our reward.

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, 

bearing with one another in love. 

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit 

through the bond of peace."

Ephesians 4:2

Side note: Ikea cinnamon rolls are just so-so and definitely not worth the calories or 15 minutes of your life.

Can't Sleep...Again

I'm reposting from my author blog at karynlyndon.blogspot.com I realized it belongs on this one...

1.31.2012

Can't Sleep...Again

I'm tossing and turning in bed tonight, trying not to wake up my husband, while visions of unemployment, bills and the future dance in my head.

This happened once before in the Eighties. Both of us were laid off at the same time and it was a true paradox because we had more money than ever before thanks to severance packages. So while we had time off together we took our two kids to Galveston. What can I say? We were young. And stupid. Or maybe we were smart. Everything turned out okay. We both found jobs fairly fast, never missing a beat. (Suze Orman would have denied that trip!)

We've been going to church ever since our son died. For the first time in our lives we have a real spiritual thirst and we want answers. Where did he go? I'm not proud that it took a catastrophe like this to bring us closer to God...but what am I going to do...lie about it? That's one of the big 10!

(I know you're wondering where this is going, but I promise to tie up the loose ends shortly.)

So my husband decided to start reading The Bible...a little bit each day. One day this summer, while I was still employed, he was reading Philippians by the pool and stopped to pray. "Dear God, we just need enough money so that we don't have to worry." Then he looked down and the next line he read said, Do not worry. When he relayed this to me I felt it was nothing short of a miracle! And I keep reminding myself of these simple but comforting words.

So I'm going to bed now--and I'm not going to worry.

Philippians 4:4-9 (New Revised Standard)

4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. 5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 8 Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9 Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

Muse Me, God

I have been asking God what He wants me to do. I offered for Him to use me as he sees fit. The answer I got back last night was to use my writing talent to talk about Him and his path for us humans. And I figured the quickest way to do that was through a blog. I took the title for this blog from a book I'm reading (recommended by Oprah) called The Seat of the Soul by Gary Zukav. I highly recommend it, too. (Oprah and I...we're like this-- making the sign of two fingers pressed together. Okay, so I'm being sarcastic...)

Anyway,  I'm feeling A WHOLE LOT unprepared for this task (not sarcasm.) I was raised in the church, but I realize now I have been spiritually sleepwalking my entire life. Now I'm what I like to call a baby Christian--just barely toddling around in the path of righteousness and only able to utter bible pablum that I learned in Sunday School. I'm not even sure of the difference between an apostle and a disciple (Is there a difference? I don't know...)

Then a few months ago my 26-year-old son died and immediately upon his passing (and just like in a Roadrunner cartoon) it was like a load of Acme dynamite exploded, making a huge hole in this thick brick wall between me and God. (God and me? God and I? Whatever...)

Suddenly there He was...bigger than life! I swiped away the haze from my eyes and said, "Hi, God," sort of embarrassed that it took me so long to speak to Him. And you know what happened? He smiled at me. I never thought of God smiling before. In my imagination He was always a serious guy, more disapproving than loving and accepting and certainly not exhibiting a sense of humor. But then, that's what you get when the better part of your Christian education came from watching The Ten Commandments. (God was not in a good mood when Charlton Heston kept trashing those tablets--and who could blame him?)

Also, since I started attending church again I'm learning so much. I always thought Christians talked WAY too much about Jesus. To be honest, any time someone brought Jesus up, it was a real turn-off to me. I know there are a lot of good, intelligent people who feel the same way.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I would say to myself. "God sent his only son to die for our sins. And he suffered on the cross. But I went through 19 hours of labor pains and you don't see anyone doing velvet paintings of me." (Don't worry. Lightning won't strike me. I'm on His side now.)

But then it was explained to me (at church through scripture) that Jesus wasn't really the son of God. Jesus WAS God in human form. I figure it must have taken God a really long time to work out His travel arrangements because He told prophets He was coming several hundred years before He got here. He was on a mission to straighten us all out--to simplify things and speak to us in a way we could understand, in a form we could actually see.

He came here to expedite our path to His kingdom...The Vertical Path.