I came late to this posting....and it spoke volumes to me...especially your kitchen- and reality-based epiphany of kinship/kindship. (I truely believe that to know oneself/one's place in the cosmic/karmic/Christian order) one MUST know other...those not like us/strangers (who, are so strange at all when you spend time with them).
Also, thank you soooooooooooo much for sharing the info/insight on kind/kin.
I grew up with the admonition to go into the world as missionaries. Although my sister followed that path, I did not. I either missed the call or rejected it. Now I see a different way of saving the world.
Good morning, I'm writing to ask if there are any scholarship or payment plan options for the virtual Southern Lights conference. I've been really blessed by Diana's writings here at The Cottage and would love to virtually attend, but I can't afford the fee. Thanks in advance! -Yolanda
The entire Christian church went in the wrong direction the moment it misunderstood Christ as the King of THIS world. He plainly said to all who asked, "my kingdom is NOT of this world". It was the warriors and politicians like Constantine and the early popes with their own armies and their "doctrines of discovery" who benefitted, and who are still benefitting, from trying to make their notion of Christ into the king of this world. You, Diana, brought the true blessing you were meant to bring with your service to the Dutch man. And he, in turn, blessed you with his reading of Scripture in a language you did not even understand. And that part of the parable about Jesus separating the sheep from the goats has also been misinterpreted as a blessing to the sheep and a punishment to the goats. When Jesus separates the sheep from the goats, it is because he knows sheep love and need the "green pastures" and "still waters" of Psalm 23. Whereas goats love to roam wild and eat weeds. And he wants to provide for the sheep where they are most comfortable, and for the goats where they are most comfortable. The dire ending provided by the Scripture writer was just one more example, among many, of how the early writers continued to misunderstand and misinterpret Jesus to conform to their own notions of what the world should be like. Every notion of Jesus as judge/condemner/punisher was written in conformity to the WRITER"S understanding of how THIS world works. I find no such position taken up by the actions of Jesus. Instead I find, even toward his crucifiers, "forgive them, for they know not what they do". Ignorance, greed and hatred are part of the human experience by the unevolved will of human beings, and are no part of the Will of God.
I began reading wrestling with the again use of king and Lord in a time where I feel compelled to find an alternative way to think of and address the Holy One, and Jesus.
I do not find Sovereign an acceptable alternative. Isn’t that much the same thing although gender neutral? I do find kin-dom speaks to me. And so grateful to learn about Kinde Lord. That lands well in my heart and soul.
Beautiful story Diana and a great question to ponder. I love reading all the comments that share about their personal experiences of feeling God's presence in surprising places and people. If I reflect on my life as a try to be a follower of Christ, I think too to those times that I was in a position that I thought I was the giver and I actually became the receiver. And yes, my heart was filled with gratitude because it did invert my whole paradigm of serving. I loved being able to get to know "my students" as I volunteered to teach English to young Afghan moms. I left each day I feeling so warmed in my hert that I received so much love from these women. My heart would burst just thinking of the shared humanity and the realness of life. Sure it was hard to do and hard to hear about all of life's difficulties but when I saw each woman and her kindness and openness, and just pure love I knew that I had seen the faces of God.
Thanks for the insight. Here's another story about expectation and Divine need.
The Green Truck
A Story by Rev. Curt McCormack
It was the Christmas of 1952, I was 8 years old. There was only one item on my Christmas list that year, it was a yellow scale model of a log truck made by the Toy Company. It was about 18 inches long with the trailer retracted, almost thirty inches with the trailer loaded with logs. It was magnificent piece of work. The front wheels actually turned with a horn like knob mounted on the hood, like a hood ornament. The wheels seemed like they were inflated though I doubt they really were.
I wanted this log truck unlike I had wanted anything else in my life. My dad was a logger, and it was every son’s dream, to in some way, emulate his father. I needed that truck. What made matters a little envious for me, was that my cousins had three of them! Their father, my uncle was also a logger. Yes, when we visited I would get to play with them but it wasn’t the same as having one of your own.
I made my Christmas list, and made sure Santa knew exactly what I wanted. Now, an eight year old boy knows very little about family finances. We were never poor. I always had food, clothing, a dry roof and plenty of toys to keep me busy. This particular year, things must have been little lean because there were a lot of beans and ground beef or venison as it were. I did not particularly care for venison burger. However, an eight year old boy doesn’t make the association between lean times and Santa’s ability to bring the items on his Christmas list.
That long awaited night arrived. The presents were stacked neatly under the Christmas tree. My concern was somewhat aroused by the fact that there was not, under the tree, a present big enough to contain the beloved log truck I had desperately awaited for. It was not unusual for parents to wait till the last minute to bring out additional gifts, some unwrapped with just a bow. Surely this was to be the case.
Mom suggested that my sister and I go to our rooms for a while. Aha…that was to insure time to uncover and or deliver to the tree those last minute surprise gifts. I knew it. I could hardly stand it waiting for Mom to give the word to come out. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Mom announced Santa had come and we could come out of our room and see what Santa had left on our behalf.
I charged out of my room heading for the tree, eyes keenly surveying all the gifts, looking, looking...looking…Hmmm! It wasn’t there. “Is this all?” I exclaimed. “What do you mean, Is this all? Said mom. “Looks to me like Santa has done well.” Trying to hide my disappointment I agreed. We proceeded to open gifts, one at a time, oohing and ahhing over each item opened.
I don’t remember any specific items I got that Christmas. I do know that the yellow log truck was not one of them. As the last present was open, Dad said, “Opps, I forgot, there’s one more.” And off he went out the door to the shop. He was back in a flash and in his hands was…well, it wasn’t yellow, it was green, and it wasn’t the one I had hoped for. But there in Dads hands was a green log truck…as he handed it to me he said, “Be a little careful, I’m not sure the paint is completely dry yet.” So this is what he had been doing in the shop those cold evenings. I set the truck down on the floor and just looked at it. It wasn’t what I expected. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad. I looked it over carefully. It had genuine rubber wheels, with a moveable and adjustable trailer. It looked pretty authentic carved and cut with detail. Impressive…and Dad had made it just for me.
The next morning I couldn’t wait to try it out and try it out I did. The ground was cold and frozen outside but when you gotta haul logs you gotta haul logs. Well, I hauled a lot of logs on that green log truck. I believe I literally wore it out! I never did get a yellow Toy Company log truck...I never even thought about it after that. I had a green log truck, custom made, just for me.
I think back on that Christmas and realize how special that gift was. I didn’t get what I wanted but got what I needed. That’s the way, God, like a father, works. God always deals with our needs, seldom our wants. What I needed on that Christmas was a gift from my Dad, created and made by his own hands which illustrated the depth and fullness of his love for me. A yellow, Toy Company Log truck would have been nice but would not have had the same impact or carried the same message. I’m eternally grateful for the ‘green trucks’ in my life.
This Christmas, don’t be surprised if you find a ‘green truck’ under the tree for you. It may not be what you want but it most likely will be what you need…consider yourself blessed as I do.
Thank you for this. It helped me bring understanding to the conflicted feelings I had after a Thanksgiving gathering I had this year. I must ponder it all a bit longer as I think of how twisted our thinking about Christ and his kingship has become in so many aspects of how we view our faith and how we live it out.
Thank you for sharing your story from long ago. I loved it. And I hope to remember it. Thinking of that old man reading to you as a way of blessing a need he saw in you really is powerful.
Thank you so much for your Thanksgiving prayer! We printed it out, cut up the ‘We choose’ lines into pieces so that most of the family and friends (23!) gathered around the table could read a part of the prayer! Mom and Dad read the beginning and the ending. Lots of great comments about it!
Ah! the reversearsal of roles! In the '80;s and '90;s, I participated in Kairos, essentailly bringing Cursillo into the Nevada Womein's prison in Cason City. We were bringing the Good News of Jesus to those women who have done all kinds of crimes. Although "criminals", these women had faith and in many, many ways showed us outsiders what Jesus really looks like. It was a very humbling experience of us..
Good point, Diana: "kingdom" is a corrupted metaphor. It is also an outdated one. Not only do we need the good news in our own language, we need it in our own experience. Who has any experience with kings, or queens, or kingdoms anymore? Very few of us. Time for new good news!
I am a retired dietitian/nutritionist. For the last 10+ years of my 40+ career I worked in a variety of nursing. Sometimes I would fill in for a few days or few months. But I was long term at two facilities. Nursing home residents (and Sometimes their families) want to talk. Sure they want to complain about the meals. But, often, they just want to talk. Over time I came to realize that listening to the stories was likely more important than maintaining optimal nutrition.
Yes, how wonderful it is when we have the opportunity to become one with the people who are in need. I will never forget the first time I asked a migrant to take a seat so I could wash his feet. The look of gratitude on his face was also a look of surprise that this gray haired white woman would even ask to do this for him. I can’t remember how many feet I washed, but I can say I felt honored to have this privilege. It was holy. Now at 89, I need some one to wash my feet.🙂
Diana thank you. In Aotearoa New Zealand we have just elected our most right wing government in history - the people have spoken. So those who are marginalised and those who assist in advocating for them are about to find life is harder. So rethinking the image of kings and power, and what it really means is a great reminder as we enter Advent. I've had Mary's Song running through my head all weekend.
I came late to this posting....and it spoke volumes to me...especially your kitchen- and reality-based epiphany of kinship/kindship. (I truely believe that to know oneself/one's place in the cosmic/karmic/Christian order) one MUST know other...those not like us/strangers (who, are so strange at all when you spend time with them).
Also, thank you soooooooooooo much for sharing the info/insight on kind/kin.
I grew up with the admonition to go into the world as missionaries. Although my sister followed that path, I did not. I either missed the call or rejected it. Now I see a different way of saving the world.
Good morning, I'm writing to ask if there are any scholarship or payment plan options for the virtual Southern Lights conference. I've been really blessed by Diana's writings here at The Cottage and would love to virtually attend, but I can't afford the fee. Thanks in advance! -Yolanda
The entire Christian church went in the wrong direction the moment it misunderstood Christ as the King of THIS world. He plainly said to all who asked, "my kingdom is NOT of this world". It was the warriors and politicians like Constantine and the early popes with their own armies and their "doctrines of discovery" who benefitted, and who are still benefitting, from trying to make their notion of Christ into the king of this world. You, Diana, brought the true blessing you were meant to bring with your service to the Dutch man. And he, in turn, blessed you with his reading of Scripture in a language you did not even understand. And that part of the parable about Jesus separating the sheep from the goats has also been misinterpreted as a blessing to the sheep and a punishment to the goats. When Jesus separates the sheep from the goats, it is because he knows sheep love and need the "green pastures" and "still waters" of Psalm 23. Whereas goats love to roam wild and eat weeds. And he wants to provide for the sheep where they are most comfortable, and for the goats where they are most comfortable. The dire ending provided by the Scripture writer was just one more example, among many, of how the early writers continued to misunderstand and misinterpret Jesus to conform to their own notions of what the world should be like. Every notion of Jesus as judge/condemner/punisher was written in conformity to the WRITER"S understanding of how THIS world works. I find no such position taken up by the actions of Jesus. Instead I find, even toward his crucifiers, "forgive them, for they know not what they do". Ignorance, greed and hatred are part of the human experience by the unevolved will of human beings, and are no part of the Will of God.
I began reading wrestling with the again use of king and Lord in a time where I feel compelled to find an alternative way to think of and address the Holy One, and Jesus.
I do not find Sovereign an acceptable alternative. Isn’t that much the same thing although gender neutral? I do find kin-dom speaks to me. And so grateful to learn about Kinde Lord. That lands well in my heart and soul.
Beautiful story Diana and a great question to ponder. I love reading all the comments that share about their personal experiences of feeling God's presence in surprising places and people. If I reflect on my life as a try to be a follower of Christ, I think too to those times that I was in a position that I thought I was the giver and I actually became the receiver. And yes, my heart was filled with gratitude because it did invert my whole paradigm of serving. I loved being able to get to know "my students" as I volunteered to teach English to young Afghan moms. I left each day I feeling so warmed in my hert that I received so much love from these women. My heart would burst just thinking of the shared humanity and the realness of life. Sure it was hard to do and hard to hear about all of life's difficulties but when I saw each woman and her kindness and openness, and just pure love I knew that I had seen the faces of God.
Thanks for the insight. Here's another story about expectation and Divine need.
The Green Truck
A Story by Rev. Curt McCormack
It was the Christmas of 1952, I was 8 years old. There was only one item on my Christmas list that year, it was a yellow scale model of a log truck made by the Toy Company. It was about 18 inches long with the trailer retracted, almost thirty inches with the trailer loaded with logs. It was magnificent piece of work. The front wheels actually turned with a horn like knob mounted on the hood, like a hood ornament. The wheels seemed like they were inflated though I doubt they really were.
I wanted this log truck unlike I had wanted anything else in my life. My dad was a logger, and it was every son’s dream, to in some way, emulate his father. I needed that truck. What made matters a little envious for me, was that my cousins had three of them! Their father, my uncle was also a logger. Yes, when we visited I would get to play with them but it wasn’t the same as having one of your own.
I made my Christmas list, and made sure Santa knew exactly what I wanted. Now, an eight year old boy knows very little about family finances. We were never poor. I always had food, clothing, a dry roof and plenty of toys to keep me busy. This particular year, things must have been little lean because there were a lot of beans and ground beef or venison as it were. I did not particularly care for venison burger. However, an eight year old boy doesn’t make the association between lean times and Santa’s ability to bring the items on his Christmas list.
That long awaited night arrived. The presents were stacked neatly under the Christmas tree. My concern was somewhat aroused by the fact that there was not, under the tree, a present big enough to contain the beloved log truck I had desperately awaited for. It was not unusual for parents to wait till the last minute to bring out additional gifts, some unwrapped with just a bow. Surely this was to be the case.
Mom suggested that my sister and I go to our rooms for a while. Aha…that was to insure time to uncover and or deliver to the tree those last minute surprise gifts. I knew it. I could hardly stand it waiting for Mom to give the word to come out. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Mom announced Santa had come and we could come out of our room and see what Santa had left on our behalf.
I charged out of my room heading for the tree, eyes keenly surveying all the gifts, looking, looking...looking…Hmmm! It wasn’t there. “Is this all?” I exclaimed. “What do you mean, Is this all? Said mom. “Looks to me like Santa has done well.” Trying to hide my disappointment I agreed. We proceeded to open gifts, one at a time, oohing and ahhing over each item opened.
I don’t remember any specific items I got that Christmas. I do know that the yellow log truck was not one of them. As the last present was open, Dad said, “Opps, I forgot, there’s one more.” And off he went out the door to the shop. He was back in a flash and in his hands was…well, it wasn’t yellow, it was green, and it wasn’t the one I had hoped for. But there in Dads hands was a green log truck…as he handed it to me he said, “Be a little careful, I’m not sure the paint is completely dry yet.” So this is what he had been doing in the shop those cold evenings. I set the truck down on the floor and just looked at it. It wasn’t what I expected. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad. I looked it over carefully. It had genuine rubber wheels, with a moveable and adjustable trailer. It looked pretty authentic carved and cut with detail. Impressive…and Dad had made it just for me.
The next morning I couldn’t wait to try it out and try it out I did. The ground was cold and frozen outside but when you gotta haul logs you gotta haul logs. Well, I hauled a lot of logs on that green log truck. I believe I literally wore it out! I never did get a yellow Toy Company log truck...I never even thought about it after that. I had a green log truck, custom made, just for me.
I think back on that Christmas and realize how special that gift was. I didn’t get what I wanted but got what I needed. That’s the way, God, like a father, works. God always deals with our needs, seldom our wants. What I needed on that Christmas was a gift from my Dad, created and made by his own hands which illustrated the depth and fullness of his love for me. A yellow, Toy Company Log truck would have been nice but would not have had the same impact or carried the same message. I’m eternally grateful for the ‘green trucks’ in my life.
This Christmas, don’t be surprised if you find a ‘green truck’ under the tree for you. It may not be what you want but it most likely will be what you need…consider yourself blessed as I do.
Thank you for this. It helped me bring understanding to the conflicted feelings I had after a Thanksgiving gathering I had this year. I must ponder it all a bit longer as I think of how twisted our thinking about Christ and his kingship has become in so many aspects of how we view our faith and how we live it out.
Thank you for sharing your story from long ago. I loved it. And I hope to remember it. Thinking of that old man reading to you as a way of blessing a need he saw in you really is powerful.
Thank you so much for your Thanksgiving prayer! We printed it out, cut up the ‘We choose’ lines into pieces so that most of the family and friends (23!) gathered around the table could read a part of the prayer! Mom and Dad read the beginning and the ending. Lots of great comments about it!
Diana, It is funny how we grow most in the place least expected. D
Ah! the reversearsal of roles! In the '80;s and '90;s, I participated in Kairos, essentailly bringing Cursillo into the Nevada Womein's prison in Cason City. We were bringing the Good News of Jesus to those women who have done all kinds of crimes. Although "criminals", these women had faith and in many, many ways showed us outsiders what Jesus really looks like. It was a very humbling experience of us..
Good point, Diana: "kingdom" is a corrupted metaphor. It is also an outdated one. Not only do we need the good news in our own language, we need it in our own experience. Who has any experience with kings, or queens, or kingdoms anymore? Very few of us. Time for new good news!
I am a retired dietitian/nutritionist. For the last 10+ years of my 40+ career I worked in a variety of nursing. Sometimes I would fill in for a few days or few months. But I was long term at two facilities. Nursing home residents (and Sometimes their families) want to talk. Sure they want to complain about the meals. But, often, they just want to talk. Over time I came to realize that listening to the stories was likely more important than maintaining optimal nutrition.
I love this story. ❤️❤️❤️
It is so up your alley!
Yes, how wonderful it is when we have the opportunity to become one with the people who are in need. I will never forget the first time I asked a migrant to take a seat so I could wash his feet. The look of gratitude on his face was also a look of surprise that this gray haired white woman would even ask to do this for him. I can’t remember how many feet I washed, but I can say I felt honored to have this privilege. It was holy. Now at 89, I need some one to wash my feet.🙂
Diana thank you. In Aotearoa New Zealand we have just elected our most right wing government in history - the people have spoken. So those who are marginalised and those who assist in advocating for them are about to find life is harder. So rethinking the image of kings and power, and what it really means is a great reminder as we enter Advent. I've had Mary's Song running through my head all weekend.
Blessings to you. Worrisome indeed.
Oh dear. I'm so sorry to hear this. The winds of nationalism are howling all around the world right now.