mik1of3's Blog

I've never been a very religious person.  I believe in God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, always have.  I liked church okay..the communion ceremony was and remains my favorite sacrament...but as most Lutherans can tell you, our traditional songs sound more like laments and death marches than happy, uplifting music that makes your soul take flight.   So, while I went to church on holidays and special occasions-you know, like baptisms, weddings, funerals, confirmations--I really wasn't active in any church body.  My church was the beach, the park.  I could and did talk to God and pray wherever I was, no matter what I was doing.  (Ask some of the runners at Memorial Park..a lot of them thought of me as the crazy girl who talked to herself for the longest time..prolly still do.)  I felt close to Him, always have..that's probably why I've never, ever been truly afraid of anything.  Nervous?  Yes.  Uneasy?  Yes.  But true, total fear?  I don't think so.   Not when the doctor found some spots on my cervix in 1988.  Not when my X boyfriend and his brothers broke into my apartment and beat me and my X husband up in 1996.  Not when I had my C-section in 1997.   Not when the doctor felt something on my ovaries in 2000.  Never.  I've always had this faith that He was always watching me...always taking care of me. 
But I missed having a church.  I envied those who loved their church, who felt home there, who actually and truly wanted to BE there...to teach, to work, to just, well, like He said  to just "BE still and know that I AM".  I hoped to find it when my old church died and we transferred to a new one in Friendswood back in 2000.  The pastor was, like us, a little "left of center"..a youngish pastor who had invigorating sermons, a pastor who helped Tony and I through a very, very rough and potentially fatal spot in our marriage.  The pastor was great..but the congregants?  If you like high school cliques and drama, then yes, its for you. 
Plus, my daughter didn't like the Sunday school.  The kids there also went to school together..and since Scotti goes to LSA, they pretty much left her out.  Only two other girls from LSA go to that church...but they only attended sporadically, for the same reason.  It seemed that most of the LSA kids who were Lutheran were members of Gloria Dei in Clear Lake.
We had been to Gloria Dei quite a few times.  A lot of Scotti's activities..drama camp, Upward Cheer, soccer camp...were held there.  I liked it, but was loathe to transfer to it.  My family was a member of Hope...and leaving them behind was something I really didn't want to do.  Me and my sisters, after all, would still act up in church if it got too boring. 
But Scotti was approaching sixth grade, a time where Lutheran kids begin catechism, a two year study where they make the transition from child of the church to participating adult.  She wanted very badly to attend Gloria Dei with her friends during this journey.  In fact, she had been clamoring for the past two years about going to Gloria Dei instead of our church.  Since I had been in her position--I didn't attend Sunday School for the same reasons she did, (the kids all went to a different school than I) and I had to attend confirmation with basically strangers who never did include me in anything-- I went ahead and made the arrangements.   When they asked me if I wanted to be a mentor, to help teach a group, I said yes.  A new church, you're darn straight I'm gonna be in it, to make sure you're not turning my daughter into a chicken killing, tongue speaking over the top christian. They laughed and BOOM, I was a mentor. 
The first class, I was a goner.  Over 50, FIFTY!! kids running around the large room, at least 15 of them Scotti's 6th grade classmates, kids I've watched grow from kindergarten..and 10 more LSA seventh graders who recognized me enough to say hi.  The youth pastor, Lonnie, came in with a guitar and four high school kids who serve as youth mentors.  They started leading all of us in a goofy song called the "banana" song, making ALL of us dance and sing along.  It was FUN, it was FUNNY, and by the time we were done with the group lesson, game and sent to our individual groups, we were all sore from laughing and dancing.  Scotti was eventually put in a different group than the one I led, which was probably a good thing..the very first group she was with me, and we were both so nervous about embarrassing the other we really didn't participate much. 
The church offers three services...the traditional @ 8 and 9:30 am; the contemporary at 11 am.  We  had heard a lot of great things about the contemporary service,  so we went.  It was there that I woke up.  The music..well, first, instead of an organ, there was a BAND, complete with electric guitars, drums, and a lead singer.  Most, if not all of the music was written after 2000.  It was lively music, and I have never, ever enjoyed a service as much.  Never.  Never have I been asked, encouraged to dance during the hymns..but at times, it is MANDATORY!!  (See the words to the song Marvelous Light for an example.)  
The congregation is a little big, so when we take communion, there's three different little tables set up in each seating section...and for someone like me who usually despises crowds to actually enjoy them is a miracle in and of itself!  The people there are great..I have yet to meet a grumpy person, or a person that I felt was looking down on me or Scotti because we didn't have the money that the average parishoner did. 
I have found a church, that has brought me even closer to my Father.  Hallelujah!!  (FINALLY!)

My mother in law sent me this. 

After living what I felt was a 'decent' life, my time on earth came to an end.

The first thing I remember is sitting on a bench in the waiting room of what I thought to be a court house.

The doors opened and I was instructed to come in and have a seat by the defense table.

As I looked around I saw the 'prosecutor.'  He was a villainous looking gent who snarled as he stared at me. He definitely was the most evil looking person I have ever seen.

I sat down and looked to my left and there sat My Attorney, a kind and gentle looking man whose appearance seemed so familiar to me, I felt I knew Him. The corner door flew open and there appeared the Judge in full flowing robes.

He commanded an awesome presence as He moved across the room. I couldn't take my eyes off Him.As He took His seat behind the bench, He said, 'Let us begin'.

The prosecutor rose and said, 'My name is Satan and I am here to show you why this man belongs in hell.'  He proceeded to tell of lies that I told, things that I stole, and in the past when I cheated others. Satan told of other horrible perversions that were once in my life and the more he spoke, the further down in my seat I sank.

I was so embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my own Attorney, as the Devil told of sins that even I had completely forgotten about. 

As upset as I was at Satan for telling all these things about me, I was equally upset at My Attorney who sa t there silently, not offering any form of defense at all.

I know I had been guilty of those things, but I had done some good in my life - couldn't that at least compensate for part of the harm I'd done?

Satan finished with a fury and said, 'This man belongs in hell; he is guilty of all that I have charged, and there is not a person who can prove otherwise.'

When it was His turn, My Attorney first asked if He might approach the bench.  The Judge allowed this over the strong objection of Satan, and beckoned Him to come forward.

As He got up and started walking, I was able to see Him in His full splendor and majesty.

I realized why He seemed so familiar; this was Jesus representing me, my Lord and my Savior !

He stopped at the bench and softly said to the Judge, 'Hi, Dad,' and then He turned to address the court.

'Satan was correct in saying that this man had sinned. I won't deny any of these allegations.  And, yes, the wage of sin is death, and this man deserves to be punished.'

Jesus took a deep breath and turned to His Father with outstretched arms and proclaimed, 'However, I died on the cross so that this person might have eternal life, and he has obeyed the gospel plan of salvation, so he is Mine..'  My Lord continued with, 'His name is written in the Book of Life, and no one can snatch him from Me.

Satan still does not understand yet. This man is not to be given justice, but rather mercy..'

As Jesus sat down, He quietly paused, looked at His Father and said, 'There is nothing else that needs to be done.. I've done it all.'

The Judge lifted His mighty hand and slammed the gavel down. The following words bellowed from His lips.. 'This man is free. The penalty for his sins has already been paid in full. Case dismissed.'

As my Lord led me away, I could hear Satan ranting and raving, 'I won't give up, I'll win the next one.' I asked Jesus as He gave me my instructions where to go next, 'Have you ever lost a case?'

Christ lovingly smiled and said, ' Everyone that has come to Me and asked Me to represent them has received the same verdict as you,

~Paid In Full~'

(so there, all you fire & brimstone-ers!)

via email dated 2005...

Herewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart:

I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are, either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have broken up? Why are they so important? I don’t know who Lindsay Lohan is, either, and I do not care at all about Tom Cruise’s wife.

Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive? Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are. Is this what it means to be no longer young? It’s not so bad.

Next confession: I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors were Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don’t feel threatened. I don’t feel discriminated against. That’s what they are: Christmas trees. It doesn’t bother me a bit when people say "Merry Christmas" to me. I don’t think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn’t bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it’s just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don’t like being pushed around for being a Jew, and I don’t think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly Atheist country. I can’t find it in the Constitution, and I don’t like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica, but we aren’t allowed to worship God as we understand Him?

I guess that’s a sign that I’m getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew, went to. -- end.

This is an older email (as you can probably tell) written by Ben Stein back in 2005.  I saw it yesterday and thought, how appropriate with all the controversy surrounding Christmas, Christmas trees, and Merry Christmas , etc.. 

Now, chew on it.  I'm going to go find out what the heck a creche is..what a neat word!!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!