I spent last night with an absolutely amazing set of people. As we talked, joked and laughed until we cried, I couldn't help but think about what it means to be "friends." I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I think I am coming to understand more and more the responsibility of the dynamic we call "friendship."
The more life I live and the more people I meet, I come into a deeper understanding of the impact one human life has on another. I would dare to say that, far too often, we fail to recognize the responsibility we have for how our life impacts the people placed in our world. A person may walk into our world for just a small window of time, but even then, it is a life- a relationship on some level- to be valued. Or maybe it is someone that has been around for so long, we take it for granted. This is nothing profound or new. It's just a pattern of thought that I've been having over the last several days about the value of people. To be a friend is to take stock in the heart and soul of another person, even when it's uncomfortable, and especially when it's hard.
PEOPLE MATTER MORE THAN OUR FEELINGS, MORE THAN OUR PLANS, AND CERTAINLY MORE THAN OUR FEARS.
When we forget that, we hurt the very people that have been placed in our lives by God for a very specific purpose. Thank you to those of you who encourage me to be a better friend, and to those who model what a good friend is. Your lives are invaluable.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
waiting
Sometimes we get stuck in this self-defeating mindset of “waiting around.” All we can think about is how we’re waiting for God to do this, waiting for God to do that… waiting, waiting, waiting… poor pitiful us.
I certainly don’t think waiting is always a bad thing. In fact, I would call it a skill, even a discipline. But it is only such when our hearts are expectant of God’s move. Wait in misery, and we find ourselves doubting that God will ever show his face. But wait in faith, and there is hope. I’m a firm believer in the concept “You can’t walk in hope if you’re thinking in defeat.”
When I read Isaiah 30:18 today, I realized we’re not the only ones waiting… God waits too.
God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you. He's gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right—everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones. (The Message)
God is not afraid of waiting. He’s not afraid to take his time. And he is certainly ok with waiting on us if it means we will eventually see his face.
What good news. He was waiting on me long before I was ever waiting on Him. If I’m worth waiting on, so is He.
Reposted from my original blog: http://betsywhitsitt.blogspot.com/
I certainly don’t think waiting is always a bad thing. In fact, I would call it a skill, even a discipline. But it is only such when our hearts are expectant of God’s move. Wait in misery, and we find ourselves doubting that God will ever show his face. But wait in faith, and there is hope. I’m a firm believer in the concept “You can’t walk in hope if you’re thinking in defeat.”
When I read Isaiah 30:18 today, I realized we’re not the only ones waiting… God waits too.
God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you. He's gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right—everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones. (The Message)
God is not afraid of waiting. He’s not afraid to take his time. And he is certainly ok with waiting on us if it means we will eventually see his face.
What good news. He was waiting on me long before I was ever waiting on Him. If I’m worth waiting on, so is He.
Reposted from my original blog: http://betsywhitsitt.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
treasures in jars of clay
“Betsy, you’re like a cracked pot, and if you don’t take care of the cracks, everything inside of you is going to come spilling out onto the people around you!”
With those words, I was being admonished by a woman—a pastor, in fact—for my apparent vulnerabilities just after having opened my eyes to the deepest betrayal I’ve ever experienced. My heart was torn wide open and ripped apart, my spirit was crushed, and I was being told to pick it all up and stuff it back down into the urn of my soul. The nerve of me—I was making a mess!
Guilt set in immediately. Someone had noticed. I was flawed. I was weak. And this woman was right: Not only was I a cracked pot, I had flat out shattered. There I was, a person who had made a career out of “holding it all together,” now in pieces on the floor. So now, not only was I fielding the pain of betrayal and grief, I was also ridden with disappointment in myself.
The Lord brought that day from years ago to my mind recently as I was praying, and I got to thinking about why it is that we’re so afraid to be broken and petrified of being flawed. Why is it that often it is felt so true that we should not be exposing our weakness, our fragility, to anyone? What are we afraid might come “spilling out?” I think we fear sometimes that the things that eat away at our hearts—fear, loneliness, unmet expectations, disappointments in ourselves and others—will be exposed. In shame, we keep them sealed away for no one to see, and quickly mend any cracks in the vessel of our soul. We become tightly sealed jars.
But I don’t think that’s how God meant for us to live. We all have cracks. We all have moments of weakness, hurts, and flaws. I realize every day just how cracked truly I am. But I have come to realize that my fractures as a person create a space for the love and grace of God to seep out of me and into the lives of others. I am a broken vessel—with weakness, vulnerability, and faults—but that brokenness creates a tiny crevice through which the Holy Spirit can operate. It is only then that Christ is powerfully revealed as a "treasure in jars of clay" (2 Corinthians 4).
Outwardly, I am nothing, but it is God who is at work inside of me… and it is Christ that I want others to see—not a flawless cistern.
”My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26
With those words, I was being admonished by a woman—a pastor, in fact—for my apparent vulnerabilities just after having opened my eyes to the deepest betrayal I’ve ever experienced. My heart was torn wide open and ripped apart, my spirit was crushed, and I was being told to pick it all up and stuff it back down into the urn of my soul. The nerve of me—I was making a mess!
Guilt set in immediately. Someone had noticed. I was flawed. I was weak. And this woman was right: Not only was I a cracked pot, I had flat out shattered. There I was, a person who had made a career out of “holding it all together,” now in pieces on the floor. So now, not only was I fielding the pain of betrayal and grief, I was also ridden with disappointment in myself.
The Lord brought that day from years ago to my mind recently as I was praying, and I got to thinking about why it is that we’re so afraid to be broken and petrified of being flawed. Why is it that often it is felt so true that we should not be exposing our weakness, our fragility, to anyone? What are we afraid might come “spilling out?” I think we fear sometimes that the things that eat away at our hearts—fear, loneliness, unmet expectations, disappointments in ourselves and others—will be exposed. In shame, we keep them sealed away for no one to see, and quickly mend any cracks in the vessel of our soul. We become tightly sealed jars.
But I don’t think that’s how God meant for us to live. We all have cracks. We all have moments of weakness, hurts, and flaws. I realize every day just how cracked truly I am. But I have come to realize that my fractures as a person create a space for the love and grace of God to seep out of me and into the lives of others. I am a broken vessel—with weakness, vulnerability, and faults—but that brokenness creates a tiny crevice through which the Holy Spirit can operate. It is only then that Christ is powerfully revealed as a "treasure in jars of clay" (2 Corinthians 4).
Outwardly, I am nothing, but it is God who is at work inside of me… and it is Christ that I want others to see—not a flawless cistern.
”My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26
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