What AM I supposed to look like??

I can get very confused about what I am supposed to look like.  While it’s easy to say I’m not supposed to look like the world (“Be not conformed to this world, but be transformed, by the renewing of your mind…” Romans 12:2), that I am supposed to look different and set apart, it is confusing to know where that line lies that sets me too far apart from the world, the line where I am not able to minister as I should.   If I am considered a “weirdo” (hush!) then I won’t be able to lead others or point them to the Way.  Where do I draw this invisible line of “setting myself apart?  ”Too ‘much’ world leaves me ineffective, but, yet, so does too ‘little’! 

There is certainly no doubt that this invisible line cannot, MUST not, be drawn and colored with sin.  Oh, I will sin, that is promised, but deliberate, intentional, habitual sin is not what a Christian is to look like.  If you look at me and see blaring sin, I am failing terribly in my attempts to be Christ-like.  He, of course, was sinless and if I am striving to look like Him, you will not notice my sin at first glance.  The two simply do not go hand-in-hand.

Another thing I would not want jumping out when you first look at me is my occupation.  I am in this world to do one thing and that is to point you toward the world beyond it.  Unless my chosen occupation is being a full time minister, if you meet me and see only my occupation, I am not doing a very good job of looking different.  The one person who has probably been the greatest example to me of this was Jesse Pinckley.  When I first met Mr. Pinckley, he was not only my college roommate’s dad, but the Mayor….the MAYOR…of Huntingdon, TN.  I had never so much as met a mayor of any city or town, much less spent the night in their home!  But if you knew Jesse Pinckley, you knew that being the Mayor was not at the top of his priority list.  He was a great dad, friend, husband, business partner, employee, but, more than that, he was one of the most loving Christians I have ever met on this earth.  Love oozed out of him, kindness was written on his face, and his giving spirit continued throughout his entire life and even after his death. 

I can get so caught up in family…they are “bone-of-my-bone” and “flesh-of-my-flesh”…but you should not see only my family when you look at me.  I must be recognized as being more that “Monica’s mom” or “Mark’s wife” or “Helen’s daughter”.  I also need not get so caught up in friends or hobbies or sports that one of those ends up being what I am known for.

You must see Christ in me first.  It has been said, “Whatever you worship will become your god.”  While we are quick to agree with this statement when it is a sin overtaking someone, we sometimes don’t see it as easily when we are worshipping our occupation, family, hobbies, sports, or anything else that stands between ourselves and God.  Colossians 3:2-2 states, “Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth.  For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”   From this the conclusion is drawn that if I am in Christ, looking like Christ, acting Christ-like, hidden in Christ, that I will also be hidden in God.  And we all know what God looks like.  Not that we have seen Him with our eyes, but if we make a habit of seeking Him, we have seen Him with our hearts.  Our Christ-like hearts recognize God immediately.  1 John 4:7-8, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.  He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” 

That is my total and complete answer to the question, “what am I supposed to look like?” I am supposed to look like LOVE. You should immediately see it when you meet me, think of it when you think of me, and want it when you see me wearing it.  It is so simple, yet, even if I am able to squeeze into it, I cannot always wear it all day long.  It can be so fleeting that I am not even aware when it has been replaced.  Yet I continue to strive to be “steadfast, immovable, always abounding” (I Cor. 15:58) in God, I know that I must watch to make sure that when it leaves I quickly put it back on (“Above all things clothe yourself with LOVE which binds us in perfect harmony.” Col. 3:14 ).   As I set goals for the coming year, first and foremost, is the goal of looking like love…clothing myself with it and wearing it until it is so comfortable, that I am uncomfortable when I take it off!

Roberta Pledge

12/27/11

SILENCE IS (NOT ALWAYS) GOLDEN...

Spending almost a month with extreme hoarseness, including two weeks of trying not to talk at all, gave me a whole different way to look at “be careful what you pray for.”  I had been walking around with “keep your mouth shut!” written on my hand for three days just prior to my condition and I was right in the middle of trying to take to heart James 1:26 (if you think you are religious and can’t keep your mouth shut, you are deceiving yourself and are useless).  When others would ask me what was wrong, I would whisper “James 1:26”!

The thing I missed the most, of course, was teaching my 3 year olds on Sunday morning.  Last Sunday was my first Sunday back and I quickly remembered why I had missed them.  It was a fiasco of a class with one coming in crying and a large class of eight, but they were still such a joy to teach.  The highlight of the class was the funny thing that happened just before the prayer.  It was a true test of using a teaching moment and not saying the wrong thing.  One of my Princes stated, totally stone-faced and simply sharing information, “It’s gonna be stinkin’ during this prayer because I just pooted.”  I simply said, as I stifled the hilarity of the moment, “there are some things we keep quiet about and don’t share with others and that is one of them,” and continued with our prayer song.  Possibly a test to see how much I had learned in my month of silence!

I do not make a secret of struggling to control my tongue….there is simply no reason to…that way others help me and tell me when I need to keep quiet.  I try to constantly look at myself and make changes, although I certainly wish that I could learn this lesson and be done with it!

LOOKING AT MYSELF

I should take a moment, if I’m looking at your flaws,

I should take a moment, to see my own because…

If I’m taking time to look at all the qualities you lack,

I’m just passing by my mirror and never looking back.

If I hear things about you, that I don’t think are right,

I shouldn’t stand and judge you, or let it lead us to a fight.

If I find myself about to say something better left unsaid,

I need to stop and think, or say something nice instead.

For life is way too short to watch how others play their cards,

And time is better spent cleaning our own backyards,

For there is truly only one over which we have control,

And working on ourself, alone, can be a fulltime goal.

So the next time you are tempted to try to change another,

Remember they are just like you and treat them as a brother.

Spend some time in prayer for them, let them know you care.

Try to show Christ’s love to them, and as a friend be there.

Roberta Pledge

12/8/11

DAD'S SPAGHETTI BIB

One of the most vivid memories of my early childhood was frequently going to the neighborhood Italian restaurant to eat dinner with my parents.  I remember the red checkered tablecloths, the mini jukeboxes in each booth playing an endless selection of favorite songs, and the wonderful aroma of the Italian sauces cooking. 

My Dad would most often order their specialty, spaghetti and meatballs.  When they would bring his plate to the table they would generously add the parmesan cheese and then they would do something that I always found amusing…they would tie an oversized white bib around his neck.  I would usually order a club sandwich, so no bib for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching my Dad, wearing that huge bib, eat his large order of spaghetti and meatballs.

The bib, of course, was to keep the rich red sauce from splattering on his crisp, white shirt as he ate.  As a child, the idea of the bib was humorous to me because I associated bibs with babies.  Babies, who could care less about stains, are bibbed to keep their clothing clean while they are eating.  We want our clothing to be clean and unspotted; therefore we often take steps to prevent stains.

James 1 is filled with so many lessons…it is hard to take them all in.  For the most part, they are not easily implemented lessons.  Joy in trials, asking in faith, fading riches, enduring temptation, stopping sin, avoiding wrath, planting the Word, looking honestly at ourselves, and bridling our tongue are the main ideas James touches on. 

He ends this chapter with the very last verse giving us the key to “pure and undefiled religion.”  It may sound simple, but really it is huge.  “Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble (easy enough!), and to KEEP ONESELF UNSPOTTED FROM THE WORLD.”  Wow… “unspotted from the world”??  We live in the world, we walk in the world, and we work and go to school in the world…how can we keep ourselves from the world?

How often have you been eating out at a restaurant in nice clothing and gotten a spot on your shirt?  What do you immediately do?  Dab it with your ice water, excuse yourself and go to the restroom and try to remove the spot before it sets.  When you get home, if any of it is left, you take further steps to remove the residue.  All for one little spot!  The idea is to remove it quickly and immediately.   

There is a key to keeping ourselves “unspotted from the world” in both the spaghetti bib and the spot removal process.   If we take preparations beforehand to cover ourselves, much like the bib, with God’s Word and protect ourselves from the temptations that come our way, we are much less likely to become “spotted” by sin.  However, as hard as we try, we are human and we will sin.  If we are diligent in removing each small individual spot of sin as it comes into our lives we are much more likely to “remain unspotted.” 

Sometimes though we may find ourselves in a position where the “spotting” from the world is so large that it seems impossible to correct.  In times like this we may just give in to Satan and feel that we are “ruined,” that there is no use in overcoming our sin because it is so large it will be impossible to rid our lives of it.  This is truly a lie of Satan.  While it is possible for our clothing to become so stained that it is unsalvageable, our lives, covered in sin, never are! 

Christ’s blood, which we come in contact with through our baptism and obedience to His Word, is always cleansing us from sin.  “If we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His son cleanses us from all sin.  If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:7-9.  Though we cannot live unspotted, sinless lives, we can always be cleansed from our sins through Jesus Christ.

The “pure and undefiled religion” that James points us towards is attainable with God’s grace and our diligence.  Cover yourself with the “bib” of God’s Word, work daily to remove the “spots” that overtake you, and pray often to see your distractions to stop them before they become the stains of sin.  Know that "spots" of sin will get past any "bib" you may try to wear...but that God's grace and Christ's blood are always working to help you "keep yourself unspotted"! 

Roberta Pledge 11/16/11

1/2 DOZEN PRINCES, A PRINCESS, AND AN ANSWERED PRAYER

About a year ago we began praying every week in our three year old Bible class for a very special person.  Jack, living at that time in China, was to be soon adopted by Bria’s family and she would not let a Sunday go by without our class praying for him.  If I forgot to mention him, she would quietly whisper his name during the prayer to remind me, or she would say afterwards, “You forgot Jack!” to which I would quickly add a P.S. to our prayer.  Bria would also make an extra take-home for him each time we made anything and if she drew a picture of her family, he was always included.  Bria was a constant reminder in the “accept they become as little children” statement of Christ…she believed in prayer and that God would absolutely, without a doubt, send this brother to live with her family.

Though Bria has now moved up to the four year old class, this past Sunday morning was a very special day for us.  Jack was in our Bible class for the very first time!  How precious it was to have the answer to our prayers sitting with us and to watch him try to sing along with songs he didn’t understand the words to.  He sat quietly the whole time and it was truly hard to keep my eyes off him as I taught, knowing he was with us only through love, prayer, and the Hand of God.  Jack has the blessing of three big sisters and a loving family that will always try to steer him in the direction of God.  And we are all blest to see an answered prayer walking in our midst.

Our class is very simple and repetitive.  We work hard to simply teach these young children that the Bible is the Word of God and the true value of that fact.  We also learn that prayer is talking to God and that God loves for us to talk to Him.  We are very close to being able to sing the books of the Old Testament and, with Laney’s example, the boys are starting to all bring their Bibles to class.  I have started showing them words like “Old Testament” and “Genesis” in their own Bibles and they will now say, “show me the words in my Bible!”  My only goal with this very young group is to teach them to love God’s Word, to love to talk with Him in prayer, and to learn some simple Bible stories that make God "real" to them.  After all...isn't that all any of us need to know, believe, and understand.  They, at age three, are all learning these lessons well!

The blessings of this single hour each week are limitless…we laugh, learn, listen, talk, pray, play, and most of all love during our hour together.  They say we now have seventeen babies in our twelve month and under class…seventeen!  How wonderful it will be to have seventeen three year olds when our time comes!  I don’t know quite how we will manage, but am so thrilled at the idea of having so many children to teach and love.  God has blessed our Great Oaks church family so richly…may He be glorified in all that we do!

Roberta Pledge

11/9/11

NEVER TAKE A NORMAL DAY FOR GRANTED

Sometimes your thoughts are wrapped around death...as my extended family surround my last dear uncle, Waldon Gwinn, in his final hours, I'm reminded of the passing of my Dad over 26 years ago.  Time passes, but love only grows...won't Heaven be Glorious!! rp 11/4/11 

The sunny morning in the middle of August started out as a normal day.  There was a slight breeze blowing as I put my six month old baby girl in the stroller.  Donuts sounded good and from our house we could follow the aroma through our neighborhood to the small shop around the corner.  Mason, Tramp and I walked pushing Monica in the stroller up to the donut shop as our day began.  Back home we settled into a typical summer day, consisting of playtime, naps, lunch, laundry, and all the other things that make up a normal day.

I don’t remember all the details, but I’m sure Mason and the neighborhood boys spent a great deal of time watching Granddaddy.  He was in our backyard building a new playhouse.  It was getting close to completion and with each passing day they were all anticipating the day it would be finished and they would able to move in.  There was a gully in our back yard that was of little use, so my Dad thought it would be an ideal spot for a playhouse.  He had built it up on stilts, four post set off the ground about four feet high.  On top of the posts he built a 6’ x 8’ platform, which served as the floor of the playhouse.  There was a narrow bridge leading from the level back yard spanning the gully to the porch of the playhouse.  The bottom portion was framing and plywood and the upper portion was screened in.  The roof even had real shingles and there was a miniature screen door to close it off from the flies and mosquitoes.   I really don’t know who was more excited about it, Dad or Mason!  

Mason and I divided our time between watching Granddaddy, playing with Baby Monica, and spending time across the street with Grandmother.  She had a swing between her carport and patio where she and Mason would sit on summer afternoons and play a game guessing what color car would pass down the street next.  She had recently fallen out of that swing and was nursing a fractured pelvic bone, so we would go over to help her or keep her company. 

The morning passed into noon and Dad went home for lunch.  We ate lunch and then settled down for naps.  After lunch Dad returned to work on the playhouse and after his nap Mason went over to visit with Grandmother.  We had been to Dyersburg the weekend before and had brought back a sack of peaches off of Auntie’s peach tree.  They had black spots on their skin, but were very tasty and so I decided to make a cobbler for supper.  I was in the kitchen talking on the phone and cutting up peaches at the kitchen sink.  I always enjoyed standing at my kitchen sink and looking out onto my deck and tree-filled back yard as I washed dishes or prepared meals.  As I hung up the phone and returned to my peaches I noticed something strange out my kitchen window.  Dad was lying on the ground by the playhouse.  He was an insulin dependent diabetic and I immediately thought his sugar had gotten low and he had passed out, so I ran to help. 

That is when my normal day stopped.  Completely stopped.  Stopped dead in its tracks. It turned into one of those days, those few days in your life that you wish you could walk backwards away from instead of forwards into.  One of those few day that you remember the rest of your life and reflect on every detail over and over again until it is embedded in your memory until you have no memory.    Running out into the back yard I remember getting closer and closer and thinking that I could not see my Dad breathing.  I remember my neighbors coming to help and someone saying they had called 911 and Mark.  I remember that somehow my four-year-old Mason was suddenly there and I remember telling him over and over, “Pray, Pray hard for Granddaddy!”  I remember running down the street to somehow make the ambulance get there faster and standing in the middle of the street and feeling like ripping my clothes, trying to breathe and not to scream--and praying and praying and praying.  When the paramedics arrived, I remember them frantically working with my Dad and then following as they transported him to the hospital.  At the hospital, more praying, praying and then the moment when someone came out and told us the news we were somewhat expecting.  He was gone. 

My Dad who had been there for me my entire life was gone.  My Dad who at my birth had scrunched down in the hospital waiting room every time they came out and announce, “It’s a boy for…” and would brighten up every time they would say, “It’s a girl for…” until it was finally a girl for him.  My Dad who wanted me named after him and was completely satisfied having me as an only child.  My Dad, who decided to stop smoking, and was baptized when I was born, and taught me how to ride a bike.  My Dad who taught me how to drive a car, going backwards over and over again down a dusty country road.  My Dad who took such good care of my Mom with all of her health issues and spoiled her rotten.  My Dad who watched his diet and exercised every day.  My Dad who I layed carpet with and hung wall paper with, who had built my kitchen table I ate off of and even the television, cabinet and all, that my children watched every day.  My Dad who completely adored my children and would come over and rock Monica any time I need him to so that I could get a shower.  How could life go on without this wonderful man I called my Dad?

As I write this, the events of that day took place was over twenty years ago.  Life, of course, did go on, and on.  And since then there have been many other heart stopping, gut wrenching, not-normal days in my life.  And when I reflect on these days it makes me so very grateful for “normal days”.  The days we often take for granted.  The days we often wish away for the better days around the corner and don’t take the time to cherish them for what they are.  Many times I pray, “God, please let this be a normal day, a day I can praise you and see magic in the ordinary gifts that You give me.”  Gifts like the sunrise, time spent with my children, good food, my husband’s smile, visiting my Mom at the nursing home, calling Aunt Ruth or a friend, telling someone how good God is, and on and on and on.  Sometimes even extra-special days, like birthdays or vacation days, fail to meet up to our expectations.  Help us to always realize that normal days are the best days.  The Bible teaches us to say, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”   So take any given day when you laugh a little, cry a little, work a little, play a little, eat a little, sleep a little, read a little, pray a little, walk a little, talk a little, and add it all together for a beautiful gift from God above.  Never underestimate the extraordinary blessing of a normal day!

Roberta Pledge

4/20/06

1/2 DOZEN PRINCES...AND A PRINCESS!

Three Year Old Bible class is well into the second quarter and my ½ dozen princes continue to bring my co-teachers and me great joy…and much laughter!  There are Sunday mornings when I think we should just stop class and laugh the rest of our time together!  I think God loves the fact that these boys have so much fun learning about Him and His Word.

Creation is our theme for this quarter.  We spend two weeks on each day of Creation and our only goal is to learn about what God made that day.  I usually begin our study by showing them true darkness so that they can appreciate “Let there be light,” and all of the beauty that is in their world because He gave us this gift.  My brave “super hero” boys have not been quite sure about that one!  They simply do not like the dark…at all! 

So adjusting my lesson a little, I’ve started class saying, “Okay, close your eyes REALLLLLY tight!”  While some don’t really even like that, most will do it… “what color is my shirt?”  “I don’t know, I can’t see,” they usually respond.  Occasionally one will say “Pink,” to which he is overwhelmingly, quickly told, “You don’t have your eyes closed!” by all the others!  And so we learn the true gift of God’s physical light in that it not only lets us see to move around in His World, but it also allows us to enjoy the beautiful colors of His Creation.  At this point we are up to Day 4…”sun, moon, and stars galore,” and with each day we add, with each page of our Creation book, they continue to get excited about God’s glorious Creation Gifts!

We are also working hard on learning the books of the Old Testament.  We do this in song form and they are already over half way through learning them all.  It is fun to see how hard they all work at pronouncing those extremely difficult words!  They already know the secret about what will happen when they learn them all and they love to hear about it as I whisper to them, “when we can say them all Ms. Christy will jump up and down clapping her hands!”  Of course, me saying it and Ms. Christy doing it are two very different things, but she will usually come around, especially under the pressure of those precious eyes looking to her for encouragement!

We also have a new addition to our group…yes, you may have guessed it from the title…we now have our very own class Princess.  Laney has been coming the past few weeks and she is a true Princess, with long blond hair and a beautiful smile.  Her first week she arrived crying, with her passy, and having to be held for the entire class period.  She quickly adapted and now bounces in each week, puts her Bible at her chosen chair (the one right in front of me) and goes over to play before class time.  She also is in the process of accomplishing something I have not been able to…because she always has her's, she has the boys thinking about getting their Bible’s to class with them.  Riley and Logan are already making a big point of it, and I am sure the others will also follow her lead.   She, having two older brothers, does not seem at all bothered, having the kitchen and doll house all to herself at playtime, at the fact that she is outnumbered 6 to 1!

In thinking about teaching the true meaning darkness, I was touched the other day in Target as I saw a young visually impaired girl making her way through the clothing area with an older lady.  The older lady would pick up an article of clothing and attempt to describe it to her younger friend.  It occurred to me while observing this, “How would you describe a color to someone who had not ever seen color?”   

I think I am very safe in saying that no one would ever make a choice to be blind.  We all want to see our world with our eyes wide opened, enjoying all it has to offer.  While no one would choose physical blindness, I am amazed at the number of people who choose to live in a Spiritually “dark” world.  They do not open their eyes to the rich gifts of God, to reading His Word, or to being watchful of the path leading to Eternal Life.  They willingly choose darkness over Light.  My earnest prayer is that these lessons of beginnings we are teaching will help my ½ dozen princes and 1 princess seek a lifetime of having their eyes wide open to God…they are well on their way! 

Roberta Pledge

October 25, 2011

LITTLE THINGS CAN BE BIG

Sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference…

Restless and anxious, I sit self-absorbed in the waiting room listening for my name to be called to go back for my yearly mammogram.  As a breast cancer survivor, I know I am in for a three-hour ordeal.  Earlier that morning my 16 year old asked, “Why three hours?  Do they squeeze you boob for three hours?”  I answer, “Basically!” 

It is the single worst day of every year for me for the past nineteen.  It always triggers thoughts of that day when the ultrasound tech walked back into the room with tears in her eyes.  I remember thinking, “Poor girl, someone must have said something hurtful to her.”  Then I realized the tears were for me and because of what she had just discovered.  I left the clinic that day being told they were 95% sure I had breast cancer.  I was not in that 5% category and spent the next year, at age 39, fighting for my life.

I sit in the outside waiting room passing the time, opening up the “blessing for the day” I have picked up out of the jar as I entered, checking my phone for messages, glancing at Facebook, and posting “19 years…year to year…praying I get one more today.  Mammogram Day:  all prayers appreciated!”  The immediate posts that others are praying for me are a comfort and I reread the “blessing of the day” agreeing in my heart, “God is good!”  With each of these activities, I relax a little more.

Then I notice her, the young lady sitting behind the desk.  The décor of the room is brown and aqua and her aqua top with the brown sweater tied around her shoulders matches it perfectly.  She looked striking enough to be a model in an ad for the clinic.  It dawned on me that she might appreciate a compliment so, putting down my book, I walked over and said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you look so beautiful and that you match the office décor perfectly.”  I didn’t know how she would respond, but as I finished my sentence, her face brightened, “Thank you.  I have been sitting here feeling so bad and thinking that I looked awful.  You have just made my day…you have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” she responded. “Well, I just wanted to share that with you,” I said and returned to my chair. 

As I sat back down, I noticed she had a huge smile as she continued working at her desk.  When she called my name to put my armband on, her whole face beamed and warmed my heart.  I realized that the blessing I had given her would be passed on from person to person throughout the day with each armband she put on.  Sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference.  A compliment paid, a smile of encouragement, a kind work when a hateful one would be expected.

I pray to be more mindful of each opportunity that comes my way.  As a child of God my blessings are countless.  Each day I encounter people who may not ever know His Peace, but as I wrap my mind around the “peace that passes understanding” I see and feel the urgency to pass it on to others at every opportunity.

The anticipation of my mammogram is almost over.  They will call my name soon and I’ll enter that room that will determine how my tomorrows will go.  The experiences of this morning are already a blessing and what happens next rests in God’s hands.  As these last few minutes have reminded me, He is in control of each and every situation.  All will be well and I will have an opportunity to encourage others, hopefully, no matter what the outcome. 

Because of that one day nineteen years ago I am thankful for each day, every blessing, and every opportunity.  Some of life’s most precious blessings just come from overcoming.  I’m holding tight to His hand…got to go, they are calling my name.

Roberta Pledge