Blinded

This morning I watched a young lady navigate an unfamiliar room, her red-tipped cane searching for something familiar.  I felt a sense of unease for her circumstance but obviously this was not uncommon ground for her.  And I noticed this: though she was uncertain about her physical geography she was confident about who she was evidenced by her unashamed asking for help.

She was not embarrassed by her blindness.  She knew she needed some help and was not afraid to ask for it.

Sometimes I find myself blinded, not physically, but spiritually.  Sometimes I feel like God is leading me to an unfamiliar spiritual landscape where I am not sure what to do, where to turn or even how to pray.

In those moments I have a choice to make.  I can either continue to wander around aimlessly while trying to exude an image that says I have it all together, or I can admit my “blindness”, humble myself and ask for help.

I am grateful that I have people in my life who are willing to help me navigate through those times of spiritual darkness (it is why I am a strong advocate for people to be in a Care Group),  but I am especially glad that I have God and his Word that is a lamp to my feet and light for my path.

Are you wandering?  Are you lost?  Who or what are you counting on to help you “see”?

Shame

Thirty-six years ago today as a second grader at St. Alphonsus Catholic school, I celebrated my “first communion.”  According to the strictist Roman Catholic doctrine taking the eucharist is an essential part of salvation, for without it I would be prone to fall into grievous sin.  Though I am grateful for my RCC heritage, I long ago left the Catholic church but not before receiving communion perhaps 1500 times.  Regretfully, one wafer did not keep me from commiting a multitude of sins.

Later on as a newly married, desperate, confused and spiritually lost individual, I came to realize that the unleavend bread chip was not the secret, but it was the event that the sacrament represented that would change my life.   Jesus died on the cross in my place for my sins.

To cut to the chase, when I “met” Jesus I had a lot of sins to repent from.  In fact, I have had a lot since then, too.  I understand God’s grace and his forgiveness.  I understand his love and mercy.  I know that my guilt is gone, but until recently there was a residue from the guilt clinging to my soul; it’s called shame.  

According to the dictionary, shame is a negative emotion that combines feelings of dishonor, unworthiness, and embarrassment.  I know I have been forgiven totally and completely but there was this lingering sense of inadquacy that would not go away.  I know I am only made right before God because of what Jesus did on the cross but there is a bit more freedom in my soul because the residue of shame is gone too.

Something in Common

My wife told me the other day I look like my Dad. I had to check with her to make sure that was a good thing. I never thought I looked like my Dad much, but we do have some things in common. I stand like he does; heels together feet pointed at a 45 degree angle. I like to watch golf. I have a dry sense of humor. I don’t like weather people telling me how to dress or how much water to drink or if I should stay inside or not. Those are just a few things I have in common with Dad. It makes sense that I have things in common with Dad because I was around him for a lot of years.

What does not make sense to me is how I can have so much in common with people I have never been around but have only read about and yet I find that I have things in common with them, too. One day they expressed their gratitude to God for rescuing them from the hands of their enemies. The next day they were grumbling because they did not have enough to eat. The following day they were regretting the things they said about God and to God, so they repented and God came through. And then the next day they were praising God for his provision.

Gratitude. Grumbling. Regretting. Praising.

Unfortunately, sometimes I have a lot in common with the Israelites.

Welcome Back

Well, four months have passed and we are officially into Fall so I thought it would be good to resurrect the frohnafactor blog.  I am not totally sure why or how often I will write or if anyone will even care to read it.  But there is something in me that wants to express myself through writing to anyone who wants to read it.

Enjoy.

Summertime, summertime, sum-, sum- summertime

…and the Frohna Factor has packed her bags and is headed on vacation. I noticed that she has “checked-out” recently and I am not sure if she is coming back.

I am not sure where she is headed, but the last I heard she got her passport picture taken and she is headed to exotic locations abroad.

Will she be back? I can’t say for sure.