Of Manners and Nursing

I don't usually write about being a nurse but this morning my frustration level demands just that.

Why is it that people have to be so rude to nurses? What on earth did we ever do to deserve being treated like that? Never in your life have you ever met people more interested in being kind and compassionate to someone than nurses- why would we be nurses if we weren't! But more and more, I meet nurses who have a hard time taking the abuse. Some retaliate by being curt; others by being slack or inattentive. Then there are the over-emotional ones (like me) who go home and cry over it. I'm just so tired of being picked on and abused.

We have a nursing shortage. There are many reasons why we have a nursing shortage. But one of those reasons is NOT for lack of people wishing to be nurses. Nursing schools have waiting lists- more students than the faculty can manage. We can't get them educated fast enough! But it's not at the input where the problem lies. We drop like flies. We're not dropping because it's difficult work- don't get me wrong- it's hard work. But we're by-and-large a hard working crew. We leave nursing because we get tired of being disrespected by doctors, patients, families, and hospital management.

As the population ages and technology improves, we are keeping more and more people alive for longer and longer lives and with sicker and meaner illnesses (like heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and a long, long list of autoimmune and degenerative diseases). The demand for nurses and their skills is skyrocketing. Yet many physicians and patients show little to no respect or manners. And do you realize what that will get you? Less and less nurses- when what we need is just the opposite. There is no great schedule or paycheck that is worth being treated like poop. And for many of us simply knowing in our hearts that we're contributing to someone's well-being isn't worth the abuse. By all means, we could all go be belly dancers and contribute to well-being! At least then people would pay attention to you and smile!

The problem is much deeper, I suppose. Parents who don't teach their children to say, "Please" and "Thank you". Television shows that objectify or disrespect nurses as professionals. Hospital administrators who preach, "Physicians First! Physicians First! Because physicians bring patients and without patients you have no job!" When in actuality, if there are no nurses, the hospital administrators have no job (unless they go back to nursing school!) As long as there is life on this side of Heaven, there will be a job for nurses. The problem is as multifaceted as the Epcot ball.

So I guess I'm just saying that if you can't say something nice today, don't say anything at all. Remember your manners and smile occasionally. There may be a teacher, or a policeman, or a bank teller, or a grocery cashier who's feeling the same way as me today. Belly dancing is looking better and better all the time!

Welcome Home

We went to a new church on Sunday. The Old Testament reading was from Jeremiah 23: 1-4.

"Doom to the shepherd-leaders who butcher and scatter my sheep!" God's Decree. "So here is what I, God, Israel's God, say to the shepherd-leaders who misled my people: 'You've scattered my sheep. You've driven them off. You haven't kept your eye on them. Well, let me tell you, I'm keeping my eye on you, keeping track of your criminal behavior. I'll take over and gather what's left of my sheep, gather them in from all the lands where I've driven them. I'll bring them back where they belong, and they'll recover and flourish. I'll set shepherd-leaders over them who will take good care of them. They won't live in fear or panic anymore. All the lost sheep rounded up!' God's Decree."

-The Message

This verse has been a balm to my wounded soul so many times in the past year or so. How precious I feel knowing that God understands my aches and promises to provide a shepherd-leader who will take good care of me.
I knew I was home.

Molly told me tonight that at our old church, they have recently instituted a practice (I'm hoping for safety's sake) of numbering all the kids in the kids' building. When they come to church in the morning, they receive a number. When their parents come to fetch them after service, their parent must request their number (not their child). Then the children's worker will report to that number's room and request that number for pick up.

Glad to no longer be a number. I'm ready to recover and flourish.

For information on the new fold see here.

Who Shall Teach Us to Worship?

I opened a book to read a little this evening. I don't think I'll ever finish reading this book. There seems to be no time for reading and besides, it's one of those "thinking" books. You know, the kind you can't read if there's any other noise in the room other than your own breathing. But I wanted to read someone's intelligent ramblings on worship (yes... I'm still riding that horse!).

Rod made a comment yesterday that was profound and beautiful. He said that when he said it, all his students wrote it down. He seemed surprised, but I wasn't. It was a great concept. What he said was this:

There is no one better than Jesus to teach us to how to be a disciple. There is no one better than the Holy Spirit to teach us how to pray.

But my question is this: Who will teach us to worship?

Harold Best, in Unceasing Worship, says that "worship is the continuous outpouring of all that I am, all that I do and all that I can ever become in light of a chosen or choosing god." From the little bit that I've read so far, Mr. Best sounds as if worship is not something we learn, it's something we do-perhaps even without knowing. We are all worshiping all the time. Worship seems to be where we put our efforts, where we focus, live, pay, ponder, devour. I think I finally understood when he related it to "self-worship".

I have long felt that self-worship, self-absorption, is the biggest, meanest, nastiest, yet most common ailment of the human race. Yet it is something I understand all too intimately. And I know that when one is self-absorbed, there is precious little that can distract the worshiper from his (her) god. I understand that this is the wrong way to worship yet I understand it. And from that standpoint, perhaps I can learn.

When I am self-absorbed, I know that I am consumed with my desires, needs, thoughts and emotions. I know that I view all circumstances through the lens of how it will effect me. I know that when I hear someone else speak of their life, I wonder what it has to do with me or if someone announces a change or a development, I wonder what impact it will have on my life. I know that when I am self-absorbed, I make sure that my needs are met. I come first. Hands down. No discussion.

But what if that were all focused where it belonged... on God? What would it look like? Change each one of those sentences to a God focus:
I am consumed with God's desires, needs, thoughts, emotions.
I view all circumstances through God's lens.
When I hear someone speak of their life, I wonder how God fits into it.
When someone announces a change or a development, I wonder what impact God can have on it.
I make sure that God's needs are met.
He comes first.
Hands down.
No discussion.

It is not difficult to be a self-worshiper. No one taught me how to do that. It was easy. I figured it out all on my own. Being an expert on self-worship should make it easy to transfer that talent towards God worship. So ultimately, perhaps the best person to teach how to worship is myself.

Been There Done That

I've been so sad lately. Lots of reasons so I'm not really too worried about it but I just seem to be going deeper down instead finding my way back up to the top. And that part's unusual. What's also unusual (although not that unusual) is that I got a little upset with God about it today. I told him he was boring. I know he knew I didn't really mean it. But I was just expressing that in all of the excitement of life, all the things there were to do, all the things I wanted to do vs. all the things I had to do, reading the Bible and praying just didn't seem very exciting. And they certainly didn't seem like a very likely way to cheer myself up.

But I did it anyway. Not really kicking and screaming, but not excited either. It was more like going to the doctor when you know you're sick. Resignation.

Psalm 85. It said he could restore me. Bring back good times. It said he'd done it before- he could do it again. And I was reading it from a bible study by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. She kept asking me to look up scriptures about Jesus. How did Jesus embody this verse? How was that verse accomplished by the cross? And to tell the truth, I had to read it in two different versions, assimilate the two, to get to what I think she was getting at. It felt like a stretch.

So there it was. God's voice. Why did he want me to read a psalm about him restoring good times to his people and then focus on Jesus, who is never once mentioned in the psalm and if there are references to him, they are buried very deeply? What did Jesus have to do with this? I've been studying the character of God. I could have easily gone there with this psalm. But Jesus?

I've been feeling lonely lately... surrounded by lots and lots of people but very, very alone. I've wondered why all these people haven't been able to help me feel not quite so lonely. Maybe God just wanted me to remember that Jesus was a person too. That in him, my relationship with him, I might find what I'm looking for. Somehow it's easier to look to a human Jesus to help me through this. One who's been through it; who understands what it feels like to be misunderstood, or unwanted, or unable to accomplish everything there is to be accomplished. What it feels like to be interrupted, unappreciated, or tired. What it means to expect one thing and get something else, to feel like you'd accomplished something important only to have it rejected.

yeah... maybe that's it.

Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let's not let it slip through our fingers. We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.

Hebrews 4:14-16 (The Message)

Goals vs. the Journey

In the quiet drizzly-ness of this morning, I took a long overdue trip back to the Oswald site and discovered among many things, that he's the one who inspires me to blog. Actually, I already knew that but was hoping deep in my heart that I could blog without reading him! There's just something in processing what he writes that gets my juices flowing and this morning was no different.

I have been immersed in goals lately. They have been swarming around me from so many different facets of my life that they have been causing a lot of anxiety. I suppose having unreached goals doesn't produce anxiety for everyone but for some reason, the goals I've set for this summer are huge to me - and I'm not there. So this level of panic is rising in me as I see the summer coming to a close and I have not achieved what I have set out to accomplish. Some of the goals don't even have deadlines and yet I'm stressing over them. Many of them I have placed on myself but some just come with the job of being me. Rod asks me what's wrong and all I can tell him is that I feel so out of control. Like the disciples in a storm tossed boat with the goal to get to Bethsaida by morning (Mark 6:45-52), I'm out of control, at the mercy of the elements.

But here's the kicker: Jesus walks past the disciples and his presence isn't even comforting. They're so stressed out by now that they're scared "out of their wits" when they see him. Now realize, this happened AFTER the famous Jesus-sleeping-in-the-stern; Scared-disciples-wake-him-up; Accuse-him-of-not-caring-if-they-die; Jesus-calms-the-storm-story! (Mark 4:35-41) So the disciples have already had a very similar experience on this very same sea with a bad storm. They've already seen their beloved teacher calm the storm in three words. The only difference is that this time they set out without him so that he had to walk on the water to get to them. And once again, they are terrified.

Now grant it, Jesus sent them off "without him" but he was never really away from them. The bible says he could see them and that he knew what they were struggling against. So he came to them but they were terrified because they thought he was a ghost. There was no recall that this was the man who had just fed 5,000 people supper with five loaves of bread and two fish. There was no memory of him calming the sea, healing the sick, or raising the dead. All they knew was that this sea they were in was out of control with deadly waves, whipping wind, and now ghosts!

So here I am, storms, wind, waves, ghosts- all preventing me from reaching the shore. I'm fighting waves of anxiety and bursts of panic over goals that seem out of reach. Insert Oswaldian wisdom: The goal isn't to reach the shore. And the sooner I realize that, the sooner I will find relief. The goal is to see Jesus walking on the storm- to see his calming approach, totally aware of where I am and where I need to be. To see Jesus in control and recognize him, embrace him, trust him. The goal is to be transformed from an anxiety-laden, goal-focused self, to a trusting, peace-filled disciple who rides out the storms knowing that that's where the growing happens. That's where the Maker meets me and teaches me that life isn't about accomplished goals, it's about him glorified in the journey.

The Pursuit Begins

I'm reading a book by A.W. Tozer called, "The Pursuit of God." It's not a beach read, if you know what I mean. I've read just the preface three times. Usually I dislike books like that- that I have to re-read simply to understand what it's about. But for some reason, this one is different. Perhaps because it seems to be speaking so loudly to me about what our church seems to be going through.

In the very first chapter, Tozer says, "We must simplify our approach to (God). We must strip down to the essentials (and they will be found to be blessedly few). We must put away all effort to impress, and come with the guileless candor of childhood. If we do this, without doubt, God will quickly respond." (Italics mine).

I need a response from God, so I began to wonder what the blessedly few essentials were. One I'm quite sure of: worship.

Worship is something our church has done away with. They still sing some songs before the preacher preaches, but true worship has been tossed. I know that people at my church might heatedly disagree with me, but it's true, none-the-less. Worship, communing with God, telling Him of your love for him while tears stream down your face, celebrating his goodness, his faithfulness, his power, his perfection: it just doesn't happen. I believe we could do nothing at all but worship him and he would still be pleased.

Tozer goes on to say that "there is little that we need other than God Himself. The evil habit of seeking God-and effectively prevents us from finding God in full revelation. In the and lies our great woe. If we omit the and we shall soon find God, and in Him we shall find that for which we have all our lives been secretly longing."

At our church, we seek God-and-experiencing life (or perhaps it is better said, "God-and-L.I.F.E.") L.I.F.E is our program for experiencing life in Christ. It has its four indicators to make sure you're doing it right. If you've Got Christ (said like, "Got Milk?") then you Live for others, Invite others to L.I.F.E. in Christ, Follow the teachings of God, and Exalt God above all else. That's how you'll know you've got it right.

But that's not what Tozer says. He says that if you've got it right, it will be manifest as an increased yearning for God- a hot pursuit- an unquenchable thirst for Him and Him alone. But you don't have to take my word, or even Tozer's word for it. Jesus said it this way, "And this is the real and eternal life. That they know you, the one and only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you sent." (John 17:3)

My church appears to pursue image, larger buildings, more members, and a greater profile in this community rather than God. Now, they vehemently deny that's what they're about. They repeat over and over that "numbers" simply means "lives" and as the numbers increase, that means that lives are touched. They say that bigger and more beautiful facilities will draw people so they can then teach them about God. The better and bigger facilities will make it easier to teach people about God. They color it with words that sound right, but even Satan got most of the words right when he messed with Eve in Eden. Expanding programs, and numbers, and buildings seems a roundabout way to reach God. I find I want less and less of what they have to offer. I find my peace in siding with the tribe of Levi, who, when God divided the land of Canaan among his children, Levi received none. "I AM thy part and thine inheritance," He told them.

Messy Rooms, Mean Rules, and Fiddler Crabs

At my house,we have a fairly unpopular rule. The rule states, "No vacation or long break from school may start until your room is clean." When we instituted this rule, there was a great gnashing of teeth and wailing but even my messiest child (I will not divulge which this might be, for fear of retaliation) cleaned her room in record time. Right down to the Barbie (TM) shoes under her bed! It's a severe rule, I know. But sometimes drastic measures are required for drastic situations.

This last time, however, there really was very little discussion amongst the troops about it. I believe I mentioned it once or twice and, lo and behold, rooms were clean. Vacuumed and everything. How refreshing to see them not buck and fight "the system"- to accept what structure I had set up for them. And how pleasant to not be thought of as a horrible monster by the children I love. And this morning's installment of Oswald caused me to stop and ponder my own behavior regarding such situations.

If you believe in Jesus, you are not to spend all your time in the smooth waters just inside the harbour bar, full of delight, but always moored; you have to get out through the harbour bar into the great deeps of God and begin to know for yourself, begin to have spiritual discernment.

He referenced Romans 12: 1-2 (and I always take a little extra time on a verse when it starts with the words, "So here's what I want you to do..."). Take my everyday life, embrace it, place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God has done for me is the best thing I can do for Him (paraphrase).

It seems lately that I've been waiting for God to do some sort of miracle around me so I can embrace it. Fix what's going on at my church, at my job, with my health. Then, maybe, I could embrace it, work at being a better member, a better employee, a better wife, mother, friend. (Maybe HE could clean my room!) But that's not what this verse says. It says these are the conditions he's set up for me. Here are the ways I should live my everyday, laundry-toting-spaghetti-cooking- shift-working-imperfect-friend-and-family-life. And if I embrace it whole heartedly, I will no longer see God as someone who doesn't understand me or my needs, but as someone with huge, deep insights into my soul, who knows better than I what would make me happy.

Will bought two fiddler crabs yesterday. We read a little bit and discovered that they prefer "brackish" water over fresh, clean water. They live in the tidal pools, and swampy places near the shore."Nasty," was the first word that floated through my head. The girl at the pet store confirmed my thoughts when she said that the fiddler crabs were the dirtiest critters she had to care for. They could make the water in their tank black within the week. I wouldn't want to live in their environment. And it's not where God wants me to live either. Why stay close to the shore where the tide can't come clean my life? Why stayed moored to shallowness and staleness? Why continue thinking of God as someone who doesn't honestly know what's best for me?


So, yes, I may have to pull up anchor and do a bit of work and I may definitely need a serious attitude change. But somehow, it's easier trusting that this is really what's best for me. And if I roll up my sleeves and actively embrace what He has provided me, I'll get to sail out to deeper waters where I can enjoy Him even more.

Now, if I could only get them to keep their rooms this way...

Frogs, Cars, and Quiet Times

Several posts back I told you that Molly and I are doing a special Sunday school class called Secret Keeper Girls. Well, for our "date" this week, she was supposed to get a fancy up-do. For many of us moms, these weekly dates have been difficult to squeeze into our already packed and hectic schedules. So this week, most of us met at the church and a couple of daring young ladies, armed with curling irons, crimping irons, rubber bands, and can upon can of hairspray attacked those wild tresses and brought about works of art! It was a small room, late in the afternoon, filled with bouncing and buzzing girls who had more than enough energy to light a small city. One of the hair magicians said something about needing some music, so I dug a David Crowder CD out of my car and added it to the din.

And there, among the noise, sitting in a smallish sized chair with my head bowed close to my book, I studied the 27th psalm.

"How like my life of late," I thought. This seemed the total antithesis of a "quiet time". But it was all I had. I had to laugh when I came to verses 4 & 5 which say..."I'll study at his feet. That's the only quiet, secure place in a noisy world. The perfect getaway far from the buzz of traffic."

You might think that with all that noise and "traffic" around me that I didn't get much out of my study, but I did. I began to wonder about why The Message translates this passage as the buzz of traffic while the NIV and KJV translate it as "the day of trouble". So I looked up the word translated "trouble" to see just exactly what kind of trouble we were talking about.

The word is "rah" in Hebrew and it means "bad, evil, disagreeable, malignant, giving unhappiness or pain, distress, adversity, calamity, injury, wrong, misery" and is also sometimes translated as "hurt".

It didn't seem a far stretch for me because I know that my life looks a lot like high speed traffic. And I know that that high speed traffic has caused me to experience every bit of the kind of trouble the word "Rah" represents. Sometimes I feel like the little green frog in the old arcade game Frogger. My goal is to get across that busy highway alive yet I move much slower than the unpredictable, speeding cars. Sometimes life just seems so much bigger and meaner and louder than me. And sometimes I feel totally hopeless that I'll be able to cross the street in one piece. So, yes, to that helpless little frog, all that traffic does equal a day of trouble. That's when I need to take my Bible and sit down to study at His feet, because God said,

"Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.
I've called your name. You're mine.
When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you.
When you're in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you're between a rock and a hard place,
it won't be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
The Holy of Israel, your Savior.
I paid a huge price for you:
all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in!
That's how much you mean to me!
That's how much I love you!
I'd sell off the whole world to get you back,
trade the creation just for you.

-Isaiah 43:1-4, The Message

Seems to me that pretty much covers little frogs trying to cross the street!

Wisps of Fog

This is such a beautiful time of year- my very favorite. The world is so new and beautiful. How is it then that our society has made certain that we miss this time of year if at all possible? Any mom knows that April and May are the worst months of the year to try to plan anything. Ask to see any family calendar this time of year and the blocks all bleed together with writing creeping out of the squares and up the side of the margin. The kids all had dentist appointments last Thursday. I knew about them- they were even written on the calendar and I heard the message the receptionist left on my answering machine. But did we go? Of course not! There was so much crammed into the day that when something else came up at the last minute, I completely forgot about the dentist. (Note to self: NEVER schedule dentist appointments in the spring!)
Don't get me wrong! I'm not complaining! So much of the busyness is a celebration of family and individual talents and efforts. Orchestra concerts (three to be exact), band concerts (2), track meets (too many to count), rehearsals and lessons and practices for all of the above, ballet auditions and rehearsals, weddings, meetings, field trips, showers, going away parties, the list goes on and on.

My husband has taken a new approach to this chaos this year. He has deliberately slowed down. As I ran across the parking lot to rush home the other day, I had to wait while he took pictures of the moon through Spanish moss. And wait while he takes pictures of flowers. And wait while he takes pictures of children playing. And wait while he takes pictures of...

Maybe he's trying to hold on to all this that's slipping through our fingers like sand. Maybe he's trying to preserve it for me because he knows I'm missing it. I know I need to follow his lead. What does all this rushing around get me, anyway?

For I don't know the first thing about tomorrow. I'm nothing but a wisp of fog, catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing. (James 4:13-15 The Message) If this is all I have, I want to make the best choice.

It's a Seasonal Thing

I can't remember exactly how it goes but it was something about our relationship with God being like seasons. And how once we've learned to embrace the dry, dead appearing times with the same vigor and praise as the vibrant, lively times, and learn to see God at work in one just as much as the other, then we are approaching spiritual maturity.

It's what came to mind this morning when for Easter, all I wanted was a beautiful, warm, worship party, like a child who greedily wants an Easter basket full of candy and goodies. How could it be Easter and not be just like that? Overflowing with goodness beyond measure. More sweet bounty of love and fellowship than one can stomach. A day that leaves one reeling from the sugar high. I didn't count on feeling just as excised and amputated as always- more like a hang-nail than a real Body part.

I guess spiritual maturity is still quite a ways off.

There are seasons when the tree is green, there are seasons when it is dry, and seasons when, for the life of us, the thing looks dead. Now, does this mean you are serving some capricious God who comes and goes by whim? Or, could it be that it is only through seasons that true growth may come?
- The Celtic Book of Prayer, Aidan Readings, April 21

Nemo

There once was a baby named, "Nemo"
Who was loved much more than he knew.
For his family was bigger and brighter than most
And their love for him grew and grew.

He had a Mommy and Daddy
A brother and sister too.
But he also had nurses and doctors
Who thought they were family too!

There was Jessie who rocked him at night time,
And Sarah who loved him by day.
On weekends Ms. Pat held him out in the station
And on the computer he'd play.

Gayle took him rides in the wagon,
And Allison snuck him some cake.
Leisa and Tony took care of his baths
And Oh! What a noise he would make!

They all knew how much he liked music,
And they kept him well stocked in toys.
They spoiled him royally and kissed on his cheeks,
The way you should all little boys!

He loved to hold on to long silky hair
And to pull on IDs that went, "snap"!
But when he was tired or too sick to play
He loved to sit still on your lap.

He'd nod his head "yes" and then cut his eyes
To see if you thought he was funny.
And everyone smiled and laughed at his trick.
When he smiled the whole world was sunny.

Sometimes Rebecca would bounce up and down
And Nemo would copy her dance.
When Lori played "peek-a-boo" under her desk,
He'd giggle and steal a quick glance.

Teresa and he had a game that they played-
He'd throw all his toys on the floor.
And after she picked them up all one by one,
He'd see if she'd play just once more.

There was something that Nemo found slightly odd:
Part of his family thought he liked frogs!
Like Jena and Becca with fun things to shake,
And even Ms. Helen! What sense did this make?

But he understood lonely and watching TV.
And despite what Doc Casey might say,
He understood TVs were really no fun.
He much preferred people who'd play.

Like Amy who nibbled on fingers and toes,
And Heather who read him his book,
And JoAnn who taught him where "this piggy goes",
He stole all of their hearts with one look.

When playtime was hampered by feeling real bad,
By fevers or bad tummy aches,
His nurse would come rock him and hold him real tight
While he'd reach up and stroke on her face.

He brought in his first New Year with nurse Angela.
His birthday was all about fish.
For Christmas his picture adorned the staff's tree.
But deep in his heart he'd a wish.

A wish for a tummy that liked what he ate,
And to stop all the pain and the pokes.
And even though hospital people were nice,
He wished he could live with his folks.

Poor Nemo seemed weaker as each day went by,
His family doing all they could do.
But then came a call and a long airplane ride.
And now- his wish would come true!

And though they all missed him so terribly much,
His hospital family and friends,
Their prayers were all answered as Nemo got well
And his sick little body did mend.

So deep in their hearts they will never forget
The baby they'd all come to know.
They'd treasure their memories and oft call to mind
Their stories of Baby Nemo.


(And P.S.: Happy B-day, Rah-Rah! We love you!)

Dog Bones, Banana Peels, and Radio Announcers

Yesterday morning on the way to work (very, very early in the morning) I heard an advertisement on WMHK. The announcer was proclaiming how God so often says exactly what you need to hear at just the right time, and how sometimes he even uses the medium of radio to do so. Then, of course, he proceeded to ask for money for the station. After I pulled into my spot in the parking garage, I picked up my Message to briefly read through the Psalm we are going to study this week for our Sunday School lesson. And here I am again, reading something I swear I've never read before but knowing that I have to have read it before because I've read all of the book of Psalms more than once!

It was Psalm 37. Maybe it was that I had never read it in The Message before, because when I read it in the NIV last night, it was very familiar. But reading it in The Message shed a whole new light on it and I knew right away that it was God, saying exactly what I needed to hear, at exactly the right time- just like the radio announcer said.

Psalm 37 talks a lot about how the righteous will fare in life, compared to the wicked. I've always believed "the wicked" were those people who intentionally do evil things. You know the type: they're the super villains in the super hero stories- General Zod, The Joker, Emperor Palpatine. They're the people in horror or suspense movies, like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs. They're the meanies on the news who kidnap children or beat up old ladies. But that doesn't really fit the description of "wicked" that God uses. The Hebrew word used most in Psalm 37 for "wicked" is "rasha", meaning:

1. wicked, criminal
a. guilty one, one guilty of crime
b. wicked (hostile to God)
c. wicked, guilty of sin (against God or man)

Hmmm. Now who, exactly, does that last bit sound like? You? Me? The people I interact with day in and day out? That's why when Eugene Peterson translates wicked in The Message, he uses words like "braggart" and "those who climb the ladder", and "bullies". People who are self-focused and self-made. Self-centered and self-sufficient. Scary, huh? They sound like the people we work with, work for, live with, socialize with, and possibly, the people we are.

I'm not always perfect, not even close. But I know that more than anything, I want to keep company with God.
I want him to validate my life in the clear light of day.
I want to be God strong. To be happy while he holds my hand tightly, lest I stumble and fall.
I want to turn my back on evil and work for good.
To walk in step with God, close enough to hear his breath and his heartbeat.

The psalmist says that people like that chew on God's word like a dog chews on a bone. What a word picture there! Have you watched a dog chew on a bone? Dogs can chew on a bone for hours on end. Even when it looks like there's nothing left worth chewing on, they keep at it. It looks like they're not making any progress, hours and hours of chewing and the bone still looks the same. But eventually, one day it's devoured. Determination. Fascination. Obsession. Who knows? But try to take a bone from an enamored dog and you just may lose your hand. That's the way I'm to be with God's word. Possessive. Obsessive. Non-stop fascination.

And who knows? Just maybe I'll reap a few benefits along the way... say, maybe, a little less fretting, a spacious, free life, happiness at being held when the way gets a little rocky. And maybe even get to catch a glimpse of some bully slipping on the proverbial banana peel!

Blue

How can a heart be so heavy on a day so beautiful?
How can one doubt so surely everything that's good, and beautiful when it's so vividly real in front of their very face?
Why?
Why would one readily believe things that are negative, even detrimental when there is very little evidence they even exist?
How can one look at a smattered blue bird lying on the edge of the road and not believe there's somehow more to it than just that- a smattered blue bird?

Blue birds should never be smattered.

He Who is Least Among You

"Once we have become poor, we can be a good host. It is indeed the paradox of hospitality that poverty makes a good host. Poverty is the inner disposition that allows us to take away our defenses and convert our enemies into friends... since we have nothing to lose but all to give."
-Nouwen

I stumbled across this quote on the blog of a friend of a friend this AM. I had never visited that blog before but I believe God wanted me to see this particular quote. I don't know who Nouwen is or where this quote can be found, but I found it extremely powerful- especially after spending the morning frantically cleaning and fretting. Why? Only because two women (who have been here before... several times) were coming over for a very informal Bible study.

I remember when I toured with a singing group from college and stayed in peoples' homes that the least wealthy were almost always, without a doubt, the best hosts. I didn't figure that out back then. Back then, I'd always wait with bated breath to see how big and fancy the house was. When we'd gather back together in the morning, stories would be flying to see who had stayed at the most extravagant home. There are specific things I remember: a home so large I couldn't find my way to my bedroom. One that had a kitchen so large you could fit the entire downstairs of my house in it. One family had a daughter in a private high school for politician's kids around DC. In one of these fine households, the family left before we woke, leaving us no breakfast and my roomie and I tried to figure out how to make "toast" in a microwave and went through half of loaf of bread before we trudged off hungry. (Yes, I can cook... now.) I don't have any pictures of any of my host families and I remember very little about them. But Rod has stories about a family who really couldn't afford to keep anyone but did anyway. We have pictures of them. They were so thrilled to be allowed to host kids and Rod could tell you details from staying there. And his stories aren't horror stories. They are stories about what good hosts they were.

I remember during my public health rotation in undergrad that the patients we would visit were always so thrilled to be getting nursing students. One elderly couple had barely enough to eat. There was one orange in a bowl on the table. But the precious lady insisted that we split it four ways, one quarter each for me, my nursing student buddy, herself, and her ailing diabetic husband. I have memories of children in Costa Rica bringing me tiny treasures that belonged to them as going away gifts when I visited there one summer. Villagers in Jesus de Otoro, Honduras, showering us with gifts when we visited my sister who lived there during her years in the Peace Corps. Every experience genuine and memorable- because the people didn't give things- they gave of themselves.

It's so easy when we have a lot of stuff to dish stuff out and feel like we've accomplished something. When I went to Moldova we handed out toys we had collected to the orphans. I was appalled at what some people had offered. Broken McDonald's Happy Meal toys... they couldn't part with the ones that weren't broken? Sheesh! I wanted to give them the very best and what we had looked like junk.

I don't want to offer junk. I want to offer my best; I want to offer me; I want to offer- not just me- but the very best me there is. I don't want to be embarrassed by what I gave. I pray that I will keep in touch with my own poverty so that I will only strive to offer my very best.

China or Styrofoam?

Do you ever worry that despite what God wants for your life that you just aren't making it? You know what a child of God looks like (or at least you think you do) and you know what their life must be like - their behavior, their thoughts, their hearts - and when you compare them to yours you simply don't see the resemblance? Do you sometimes feel like God must be shaking His head and wondering if you're ever going to "get it"?

My daughter and I are embarking on a new Sunday School class called Secret Keeper Girl. It's a Bible study of sorts to help young girls learn that their value is found in being a child of God, not in whatever society says of them. It's full of fun outings to places like hair salons, shopping malls, trips to get facials, and view art. The first lesson is about a china tea cup and the outing is for a formal tea.

At first, I was a little riled about the whole china tea cup comparison. I mean, what makes a china tea cup special? Why is it "worth" more than, say, a Styrofoam cup? Well, in my eyes, the china cup is worth more because it's fragile, decorated, delicate. That offended me! Those were worldly assignments of worth. Did I want my daughter to be valued because she's dainty and pretty on the outside? I have Depression glass tea cups. I have never put hot water in them because I'm terrified they will break. Did I want my daughter to learn that she was just a decoration, too fragile to be of use to the Kingdom? It seemed at first that the Styrofoam cup was more Christ like! It's functional. It doesn't detract from it's purpose which is to effectively serve hot beverages and keep them hot without burning your hand. It does its job perfectly well and in the end, the cup, the outer trappings, can be discarded. Why even the fact that it isn't biodegradable seemed Christ like to me! Just like Styrofoam, He lasts forever!!

But then I listened to the story about the china tea cup. I had forgotten that china is a type of pottery. I took a pottery class in college. We had to work the clay over and over with our bare hands until my hands ached. We worked out every bubble because even the tiniest bubble in the raw clay could cause the art to burst in the oven. We (well, most of us- not me) threw our clay on the wheel, spinning it until we got it just right. (I never got mine just right!) The project was baked at a high temperature, painted with high fume glaze and then re-baked. If the project had been human, all of that work to produce a lovely piece of art would have been quite painful! And I can imagine that the poor little piece of clay would have never believed that eventually it was going to be just what the potter had in mind.

So often, just like that piece of clay, I wonder if I will ever turn out right. I believe that I'm faulty clay- that there's not much even a Master Potter could accomplish with me. And then I read verses like Romans 8:29-30:

God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun.

And I believe that what God sets His mind to, He accomplishes (Isaiah 55:11), so maybe there's hope yet!

If You Love Me

Scenario: One is busy doing what one does (working, playing, fishing, living...) and Jesus appears out of nowhere and cooks you breakfast. And then he asks you, not once, not twice, but three times, "Do you love me?"

I have pondered the verses of John 21:15-17 many times in my life. I've wondered what it must have felt like to have Jesus question you as to your love for him. Jesus knows everything! So He obviously didn't ask because he didn't know. There must be another reason he asked. Some people say he had to ask to make Peter say it out loud three times to nullify the three denials. I don't buy that. Sure, there's an obvious pattern there- three declarations of love to cancel out three denials. But it seems slightly legalistic to me. And besides, simply saying that you love someone never convinces them! It takes something more. Maybe the person who needed convincing wasn't Jesus, but Peter. Maybe Jesus asked him three times to make Peter assess his love for him. We don't know why Jesus asked him but we do know it hurt him that Jesus had to ask, it says so in verse 17. And know I would be hurt as well.

I would hope that Jesus could take one look at my life and see that I loved him. But you know, sometimes (maybe most times!) I believe that I'm out fishing, just like Peter had been. And no one at all can tell that I love him.

Jesus had appeared to the disciples on two other occasions before this scene since his death and resurrection. And it would appear that although the miracle has happened, it hasn't really had much effect on their lives. Peter's hanging out with his buds and says, "I'm done here, y'all. I'm going fishing." There are no stories of great miracles or overt demonstrations of love for Christ since he's appeared to them. Life has a rather stagnant feel to it.

Contrast this with Acts chapter 9. This is a different Peter we're seeing now. He's traveling all over the country, visiting the saints. He heals a paralytic named Aeneas and raises Dorcas from the dead. This is a man who is out and about the things of Christ. There would be no doubt in ones mind that Peter loved Jesus. Why? Because he's doing what Jesus asked him to do: taking care of His sheep.

In John 14:21, Jesus says that that's how he'll know if we love him- if we are obeying his commands. And his commands to us are very much like his command to Peter to take care of his sheep. We are to become holy like He is holy. (Three times in the book of Leviticus, God commands this: Lev. 11:44-45, 19:2 & 20:7) We are to love one another as He has loved us (John 15:12). We study the character of God and pursue Him. We learn to have a heart of compassion like His and we act on it. We learn in Psalm 72 that God has a heart for the poor and the needy; we see the Proverbs 31 woman must love Him, for she has that same heart (Proverbs 31:20). We learn by example and spur each other on to do the same (Hebrews 10:24)

And maybe then, He won't have to ask.

Thanksgiving in February

Most people spend the third or fourth week of November making conscious notes of their blessings. Like most people, I do think about that around Thanksgiving. But I think about it more in February.

We celebrate a lot of birthdays in our family during this month, from January 21st (my mother-in-law) to February 21st, my youngest son's. There's my mother on February 6th, my husband's on February 10th and my oldest son's on February 18th. By the time poor Wilby's birthday pulls up the tail on the 21st, we're all sick and tired of cake! (I guess the fact that we took him to Shoney's for apple pie for his first birthday should have been a warning!) But despite all that cake, the cards, and the calories (don't forget there's Valentine's Day thrown in there in the middle!) it really is all about the blessings.

My mother-in-law is the kind of mother-in-law all girls should dream of having. She raised her son to be the best possible husband and friend. She is an encourager. I have never once heard her speak ill of anyone. She is beautiful inside and out and I would love to have some of her rub off on me!

My own mother is the world's greatest giver. She makes, bakes, cans, sews, calls, writes, visits. She's a hard worker and a great friend. She was my Girl Scout leader (and the very best one in the whole state- I must add!) All of my friends were jealous of me when we were growing up- they all wanted my mom for theirs! She still stays involved from over 500 miles away, sending clippings from newspapers and calling to see how "today" went- whatever "today" it may have been: first day of school, first day of braces, first day with your new present.

My husband defies description. Just ask one of his students and they'll agree. He's one of the most (if not the most) unique individuals ever. I chose a Valentine for him with a princess and a knight in shining armor. It aptly called him the Champion of My Heart. He has been my champion over the years, fighting battles for me physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He has prayed holes in the knees of his jeans for me. He has loved me when I have been very unlovable, vowing to never give up on me.

My son Jack has never ceased to amaze me from the moment I first felt him move in my belly til this very morning. His compassion and wisdom have always been way beyond his years. He is dependable, respectful, and talented. He's even really good looking! I have been so blessed to watch him mature and to see him rise up to challenges that kids much older than he would easily back away from.

My younger son, Will, has been a smile on my face since conception! We considered the name "Isaac" for him- even before he was born, because it means laughter. I believe if you know him, you might agree that we should have followed our first instinct! Although he is delightfully creative and a beam of pure sunshine, like most extremists can swing just as far the other way. His pains and fears are ravishing. Sometimes I wish he didn't have to feel things so deeply but I know that that is the reason he is the marvelous creature that he is! I expect such wonderful things from both of my sons!

I can't stop there, you know. I have a daughter whose birthday is really in November, when all this reflection on blessings is supposed to happen. I guess she just didn't get the memo that in our family, Thanksgiving is in February! Or maybe she was just a little early (no...more likely she was a lot late!). Anyway, talk about blessings overflowing. She lives life constantly on the edge- exploring, pushing, trying harder than I ever tried at anything. Her 4 MB lime green i-Pod is almost full, with artists ranging from the B52's and Anberlin to Yo-Yo Ma and the cast of Annie! What 11 year old do you know that can sing the entire Best of Pat Benetar CD- without the lyric sheet?!? She does it all this way, from dancing on her toes to playing her new cello to defending picked on kids at school.

I suppose I could go on and on- my Dad, my sisters and their families, my in-laws- all of them jewels. That's what I mean when I say that February is Thanksgiving for me. With this landfall of birthdays right here in 4 weeks, I am forced to face the music...

I am blessed.

Love That's Bigger Than My Body

Last night, my sweet hubby took me to the John Mayer concert. This was one of my Christmas presents from him. I had been looking forward to this event even before I knew we were going!

I've been plagued with a neck injury for about three weeks or so now. It's trying to ruin my life! But I was going to enjoy last night despite the pain! I'd purchased a special outfit to wear- including necklace and earrings- just a few days after Christmas. I soaked in the tub, took a quick nap and an extra dose of pain medicine. I was determined! But the injury prevailed. The concert was wonderful. The company even better. Afterwards we even met up with some friends at a coffee shop to put the cherry on top of the already great evening. But by the time we got home, I was a mess. There is no way you can fake it through terrible physical pain.

I wonder why we think we can? Why do we think we're so much stronger than we really are? Even though last night was dampened by my physical condition, it will go down in my history books as one of the best nights of my life... you know why? Because of love. There have been so many times I haven't noticed how much I am loved but last night was not one of them. I was a princess, chosen and cherished. And that love is what will stick in my memory- not the pain, not the way it didn't all happen just the way I had planned. Just the love.

Thanks, Babe. You were perfect.

Training for the Long Run

About 2 years ago, my eldest son started taking an interest in running and went out for the middle school track team. One day, I talked him into going for a run with me. It was a little over 3 mile run; not bad for a beginner, but up the long hill at the end, he really started to lag behind. I ran the hill and then jogged back for him, encouraging him along the way.

Last Saturday, he and I went for another run. This time, we were doing my five mile route. He outpaced me from the very start and although I can run this course without much difficulty, somewhere near the middle, I just let him go. He'd turn around every now and then to see if he was supposed to go straight or take an upcoming turn and I'd signal him on- each time from further away. Eventually, I lost sight of him- he knew the way home.

Earlier that day, we were discussing the book of Daniel over danishes and sodas at a local coffee shop, while we waited for little sister to finish up her dance class. I wanted to impress him with my newly gained knowledge of the fulfillment of kingdom prophesies in the second chapter. I was blown away by the fact that Cyrus was mentioned by name 150 years before he came into being as the one who would set the Israelites free from their Babylonian captivity. (See Isaiah 45). He was unimpressed... he already knew all of that and even pointed out some other prophesies mentioned in Jeremiah about the same deal. He had learned all about this in his small group that meets on Sunday nights. We went on to discuss the pertinence of the book of Daniel for all of society today, especially for teens as they seek who they really are and what they really believe. We drew parallels between the 15 year old Daniel and his friends and himself, who will turn 15 in just a few days. I was amazed at his understanding and a little disappointed that I had never learned these truths at his young age.

How rewarding as a parent to watch him run so far ahead- even to out of sight. And how encouraging when I saw him jogging back up the road to finish the run beside me.

Ecclesiastes 8:1 Lesson

So the evening was going just fine. My three beautiful and talented children were starting to wind down for the night when the youngest decided she wanted to sing for me. It was beautiful. I've always been a sucker for family music time so I egged her on and with very little coaxing, she sang for me again. Then we called her brother down and he picked up the fiddle solo in the song. The 3 minute before-bed-serenade became a 45 minute family concert and my heart was filled to overflowing with pride. Then somewhere the bottom fell out and there were tears and screams and doors slamming. Where did I go wrong?

In total desperation and angst, with tears streaming down my own cheeks, I grabbed my computer and typed "help raising children john rosemond" in the google search box. The computer churned for a moment and then, with a sigh of helplessness, went blank. The problem was apparently even too much for a computer! Now what!?! Am I to be left totally helpless in this situation? Is even my computer going to turn its back on me?

Rod came home from the gym and did his best to cheer me up (with faint screams still echoing in the distance) and something he said reminded me of something I'd been studying in Daniel- something about why we act the way we do; about how the world holds us in a self-serving, self-centered, "friendly captivity" that causes us to say, "I am the only one; there is no other but me."(Isaiah 47:10) There was my parenting tip. There was my wise counsel. Not in my computer. Not something written by some mere human parenting guru. It was wisdom of the wisest sort. The very words of God- the greatest parenting guru of all!

One of these days I'll learn. And if my kids are going to survive, sooner would be better!

There's nothing better than being wise, Knowing how to interpret the meaning of life.
Wisdom puts light in the eyes,
And gives gentleness to words and manners.

-Ecclesiastes 8:1 (The Message)

Walking in the Dark

I once read a true story in Guide Posts about a young girl who was driving her car early in the morning and when she went around a bend in the road, she was blinded by the early morning sun. She continued on her path, hoping to stay on the road and unfortunately, struck and killed a woman who was getting her mail from her roadside mailbox. The story was written by the woman's daughter and the beauty of the story was how God had given her the grace to move beyond the tragedy and the beautiful relationship that developed between her and her mother's "killer".

That story came back to mind this AM while reading Oswald. He spoke of the blinding darkness that sometimes follows a vision from God. How sometimes, when God tells us He's about to do great things, it seems He actually does nothing and how we are tempted, so often to "do for Him", like Abram did with Hagar. And what a mess it makes. I thought about the tragedy that follows when we set out on our own in darkness- without light to lead the way.

I've been reading in Isaiah a lot lately. There are so many precious gems in that book. And this morning I was blessed with another new favorite: Isaiah 50:10-11

Who among you fears the LORD
and obeys the word of his servant?
Let him who walks in the dark,
who has no light,
trust in the name of the LORD
and rely on his God.

But now, all you who light fires
and provide yourselves with flaming torches,
go, walk in the light of your fires
and of the torches you have set ablaze.
This is what you shall receive from my hand:
You will lie down in torment.

I've always been afraid of the dark. I had to have the hall light on as a child and slept with a night light by my head. As a child, if I woke in darkness, I would immediately become totally still, listening with all my might for signs of danger, of tigers prowling about in the cellar. But sometimes lighting a light in the dark could make it worse. Camp fires can be particularly tormenting, especially if I happen to know there are bears in the area! The way the fire leaps and dances, cracks and pops; the way it makes the shadows dance and things that aren't even real take on frightening shapes. My imagination can really go wild!

But dancing torch fires or camp fires are the limit of our abilities to light the world around us in our own power. With our own wisdom and logic, we create just enough light to make the shadows dance, or even worse, create shadows where real danger can hide. God shows us in Isaiah 50 how Jesus used his ears to listen at these times of darkness rather than make fires that can make things worse. With Jesus as our model, we are to do the same: open our ears and listen to his instruction. He promises us that His arm is not too short to save us, that He does not lack the strength to rescue us. The truly wise will wait and listen in the darkness and rely totally on God to bring them through.

God grant me the wisdom to stand still and listen so I don't make a mess of things today. I'm relying on You.

Old Truck; New Truck

Recently my husband said he hoped it never occurred to me to put him a comparison chart with something else like he did his old truck and his new truck. Seeing as I haven't ever had an "old husband" I really didn't know what I'd compare him to. But the thought was intriguing so here it is, Babe. I just couldn't resist the temptation!



Looks like we both did pretty well!

Dead Trees and Burnt Out Lights

I'm trying to finish taking down my Christmas decorations today. It seems I'm last in the neighborhood this year. Even my next door neighbor (who's always late at taking her stuff down) has beat me this year. It's just hard to do. There's just no excitement in it- it all fizzled out!

We're always a little later at getting our stuff up than our neighbors. Seems like Thanksgiving hits and everyone's racing to beat the other guy to get their stuff up. We usually wait until at least the first or second week of December. Then it's running around every night to light the lights in the windows, on the porch, on the mantel, and of course the tree. In the beginning, the tree gets lots and lots of water. This year, Rod went to water it one day and it immediately spilled on the floor; I had just watered it. Then things seem to taper off a bit. We forget to light the lights one night or more likely, we forget to turn them off. Then they burn all day and, well, we might as well leave them on- it'll be dark soon. That's probably why I need new lights on my porch garlands next year!

It occurred to me as I unwound the burnt out lights from the porch garlands how similar our personal relationships with Christ can be to all of this. How when things are exciting we can stay in tune, how we pray, study, sing, how all of life can be about Him and our relationship. And how once the pattern sets in, the novelty wears off, we can forget, get bored, and simply careless. And maybe I'm only talking about myself.

When I took the tree outside the other day to leave for the garbage pickup, it was bone dry- not a drip of water in the stand. The once full of life, soft needles had become brittle weapons of destruction tearing into my hands and forearms making them bleed. The mess it made was awful- not just the mess on me but on the floor, the porch, the sidewalk...everywhere it went- a mess.

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.
- Psalm 1:1-3

I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.
- John 15:5-8

Full Life vs. Peace

Ok! ok! Alright already! I'm back! (It's nice to feel loved and missed!- thanks!)

So, you wonder (or maybe you don't) what on earth has kept me from blogging! And of course, I'd have to say it was a VERY FULL LIFE!! We've had holidays, traveling, kids out of school, company from far and near (which have ALL stayed up WAY past their bedtimes!) We've bought a new ride and boogered it up. I've gotten new insurance and it doesn't work, kids have had basketball, and ballet, and concerts, and doctors' appointments... the list goes on and on! Wow! And this is what I dreamed of when I was little and couldn't wait to grow up?

Really, when I was little, all I ever wanted was to grow up into a "full" life. I thought for life to be full and complete, all I would need was a husband to love me. Then maybe some kids to take care of and love. Of course, I'd need a job that I loved and in which I found personal satisfaction and respect. To get all that (including the loving husband) I had to go to college. There I learned that education was imperative for having a complete life. So after I got married, I had to get even more education. While in pursuit of that, I discovered that a full life really wasn't fully complete until I had a house in which the children didn't have to all share one tiny bedroom and a job that made more money and heralded more respect. I was hot on the trail of the American Dream.

And somewhere in all of that, I crashed.

This morning, while reading in Isaiah, I noticed that Eugene Peterson had translated some of my favorite passages wrong. I've grown up spiritually in the NIV. So when I read Isaiah 26:3, I read that God will keep me in perfect peace if my mind is steadfast on him. And further on, in verse 12, God establishes peace for me. In Job 22:21, I am instructed to submit to God and I will be at peace with him and prosperity (ahh...I like that word!) will come to me. And then back in Isaiah 27:5 I am invited to make peace with God. Ultimately, in Romans 5:1, Paul tells me that the whole process of justification by faith (difficult to understand with just those words) will result in peace with God (that I can appreciate!) But what did Dr. Peterson do wrong? In every instance, he translated the word peace as full life, whole life or completeness. So out of curiosity, I flipped over to the most famous of peace verses: Isaiah 9:6. Was Jesus going to be the Prince of the whole life?!?

And guess what?

I read:

His names will be: Amazing Counselor, Strong God, Eternal Father, Prince of Wholeness!

Now what does one do with that? One goes to the lexicon!

This word is the Hebrew word ~wlX or shalowm meaning:

1. completeness, soundness, welfare, peace
   1. completeness (in number)
   2. safety, soundness (in body)
   3. welfare, health, prosperity
   4. peace, quiet, tranquillity, contentment
   5. peace, friendship
      1. of human relationships
      2. with God especially in covenant relationship
   6. peace (from war)
   7. peace (as adjective)
   -Crosswalk.com

There it was- the number one word in the definition: Completeness. Peace with God is equated to completeness- a whole, complete, full life.

When my world came crashing down around me, I realized that I wasn't at peace with anyone- not my family, my friends, myself, and least of all God. In my struggles to find that full and complete life, I had abandoned all to the pursuit and in it, I lost all semblances of peace. But God is a good God who doesn't forget his children when they stray.

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed, says the Lord who has compassion on you.
-Isaiah 54:10

And

Can a mother forget the infant at her breast, walk away from the baby she bore? But even if mothers forget, I will never forget you- never. Look, I've written your names on the backs of my hands.
-Isaiah 49:15-16

When we come back to him, we find that he has wiped the slate of all our wrongdoings. There is nothing left of our sin. "Come back, Come back. I have redeemed you," he calls. (Isaiah 44:22). This was his plan from the very beginning. A plan for redemption and reconciliation. A plan for a full and complete life, at peace with him. Why do we have to learn the hard way? Why don't we just listen? It's a fair question: God asks it himself.

If only you had paid attention to my commands, your peace would have been like a river (NIV)

or in Dr. Peterson's translation:

If you had listened all along to what I told you, your life would have flowed full like a river, blessings rolling in like waves from the sea. (Isaiah 48:18)

So there's nothing wrong with a full life. In fact, it's what God had planned for me all along. It's just that I have been faithful to the human way of life, just like the Israelites, rather than faithful to God's way- a way so high and above me that it's beyond my understanding.

I don't think the way you think. The way you work isn't the way I work. For as the sky soars high above earth, so the way I work surpasses the way you work and the way I think is beyond the way you think.
-Isaiah 55:8-9

But when I submit to him and his high and mighty ways, he promises that I'll go out in joy and be led into a whole and complete life (Isaiah 55:12)