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Chow Down

May 13, 2019 By admin

Years ago I had learned that my allergy-prone puppy would be better off without grains in his diet. I got used to reading the ingredients in pet food and treats. After my dog experienced occasional days of loud growling stomach and no appetite, I eliminated some imported treats. A few weeks ago my husband and I watched a documentary regarding the business of pet food processing and lack of regulation. Digestion problems, allergies and illness seem correlated or caused by modern pet diets. Most species of animals have teeth and digestion adapted to masticate and absorb only appropriate foods. We grew concerned that we had not been giving our dog “species appropriate” food. Perhaps we even contributed to the diseases and deaths of earlier pets. Suddenly I realized that dogs’ and cats’ instinct would dictate that they never go hunting for kibble.

As I thought about the implications for animals, it became much more clear to me that I have often been eating processed food items that are not “species appropriate” for humans. Food in boxes and cans and bags did not start out in their current form and may not be recognizable to my body as nourishment. I have been making changes in my diet due to health issues but I wish I had been more attuned to appropriate food much earlier in life. Cheese doodles and red licorice are a long distance from a food group.

I believe in a master Creator who has a design of best outcome for all His creatures. I was raised with an awareness of the dangers of certain food items, or that eating /drinking some things amounted to a “sin” if you knew better. The body as a “temple of God” is a responsibility and privilege (I Corinthians 6:19). Even moderation is only as good as what is on the buffet! I have also grown to appreciate that one diet regimen does not fit the unique body chemistry and needs of all people. However, the idea that people food should be in much more garden and field fresh form makes a lot of sense to me.

Months ago I created some garden boxes to try growing an assortment of vegetables and herbs so that my grandsons would know where food originates. I need to constantly remember that real food doesn’t come from extruding machines, as crackers, and snack packs. I am horrified by the long lists of chemicals and ingredients that we so readily absorb in our haste to eat or satisfy a craving.

Heated discussions can erupt about the best form of people food. Culture, religion, accessibility, finances and personal requirements guide food choices. I sometimes balk at the “expense” of food but realize that the equation often results in either money for quality food or expense related to later illness and early death. I still enjoy convenience and pulling things out of my freezer, but it should look more like real food. As I feed my pets their new “species appropriate” dinners, I look for simpler and cleaner human options also. We all want to feel well and enjoy the gift of life.

Questions for personal journaling or group discussion:

1. What categories of food would you list for a human “species appropriate” diet?

2. What do you say when asked, “Why don’t you eat that?”

Karen Spruill writes from Orlando, Florida.

The post Chow Down appeared first on Answers for Me.

I’m Thirty

May 9, 2019 By admin

Evening before my birthday

11:53pm

What happens when you turn 30? Seriously, I need to know, because, whatever it is, it’s going to happen to me in about 7 minutes and I’m not one for birthday surprises.* I’m already overwhelmed with the fact that I’m going to have to check a completely different age range box on the forms at the DMV. So this whole “not-knowing-what-to-expect-once-I-reach-this-milestone” situation is not really working for me. Since no one seems to be willing to give me any answers, I’ve had to guess.

Here’s my current hypothesis:

Sometime between midnight and 12:03 a.m., my room will be rushed with agents from a secret international agency. I will be injected with a serum that will render me unconscious and transported to a secret facility. At said facility, vital vitamins and minerals will be extracted from my body to be distributed, via lattes, to women who are not making a mockery of their reproductive years. I will then be returned to my room with no memory or evidence of what occurred, except that I will bear the mark of the unwed and over 30: Cankles.

As I await the inevitable, I become introspective. I’ve spent three whole decades on earth, and I can’t help but wonder if the world is any different because of my being in it. Shouldn’t I have made my big impact on the world by now? Maybe I have! I regularly post articles and indignant status updates on the horrors of war and human trafficking for my 1300+ close, personal friends. That’s enough, right?

Or what if life is less about making some huge impact on the world and more about tiny ripples of compassion? What if my “big impact” is simply asking someone how they are and really taking the time to listen?

I’m not saying that I shouldn’t care about injustices around the world. On the contrary, I’m glad those things make me angry, and I will continue to speak out on them as much as I can, even if it’s only through social media. But I also think that I’ll spend the next three decades participating in the revolution of loving my neighbor. My legitimate, in the flesh and in close physical proximity neighbor. Maybe that can change the world!

It’s 12:14 am. I’m officially 30, and PHEW, my hypothesis was wrong. I can rest easy tonight. Wait… are those cankles?!

“But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love. And don’t take yourself too seriously— take God seriously” (Micah 6:8, The Message).

*This is a lie. I LOVE birthday surprises! But on this particular birthday, I am alone in a Parisian hotel room and am acutely aware that the chances of my friends and family jumping out of my closet with cake and presents are minimal.

Jael Amador writes from New York, New York.

The post I’m Thirty appeared first on Answers for Me.

Don’t Forget Dietrich

March 4, 2019 By admin

I am reading about the life of the German theologian and pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was one of the few voices warning the world about the true nature of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis during the 1930s and ‘40s. Reading the book is like waiting for a train wreck since I remember how Dietrich’s life ends. I know that he went to prison and was killed just before end of World War II. I know that he was part of a conspiracy of brave men who attempted to end Hitler’s life but failed. I know that Dietrich was only 39 and about to get married when he was killed. Lots of good men have died at young ages. However, it is the startling and awesome details before his death that wrench my heart.

Dietrich came from a wealthy, influential family. From the time he was 13 he knew he wanted to study theology, much to the consternation of his parents. At 21 he passed his doctoral exams and he then traveled, lectured and ministered in many countries. He was a pastor to some small congregations in London, and he visited the United States. It was the spirit of the U.S. African-American congregations that helped him clarify the real essence of Christianity and personal religion. When the Nazis took away his right to teach seminary and declared him as an “enemy of the state,” he could have run away.

I am in awe of his single-minded devotion to protect the meaning of the Christian church. He attempted to change how German pastors were being trained so that they had a personal relationship with God instead of just head knowledge. He taught his seminary students to pray, meditate and sing — something strange for German theologians. Dietrich saw through the designs of the National Socialist overthrow of the government and German church. He fought with stubborn determination to warn worldwide Christians who were being deceived by Hitler’s cronies. In public they portrayed a new “positive Christianity,” yet in private they denounced the weakness of the Gospel.

Dietrich was pained by the persecution of his own Jewish brother-in-law, sister and children. First Jewish Christians were excluded from the Church, commerce and society and then The Nuremberg Laws further destroyed Jewish rights and citizenship. Dietrich saw each step in the re-creation of his country as an obligation for the church to be a voice in the world. He helped design organizations and documents of declaration to sharpen the contrast between Jesus’ mission and that of the impostor Nazi church. He struggled with depression.

As I look into the eyes of his photos in my book, I want to thank Dietrich Bonhoeffer for his faithfulness in listening to God. I want to shout to Christians in my generation to listen to God before we, too, lose the meaning of church. How much different might Europe be today if Dietrich had been able to live and help shape the world after World War II? We will never know. However, now is the perfect time to read, Bonhoeffer, by Eric Metaxas.

Questions for personal journaling or small groups:

1. Do you agree with Dietrich that the church has been “instituted by God to exist for the whole world?” Do Christians have an obligation to speak out about things that do not directly affect the church? Why or why not.

2. How can Christians “speak for those who cannot speak?” Or should we?

Karen Spruill writes from Orlando, Florida.

The post Don’t Forget Dietrich appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

It’s Complicated

February 26, 2019 By admin

Have you ever felt this way about your life? About your family? Maybe about your marriage? Life in the Twenty First Century is complicated. Just think about all of the things the average adult has to think about each day:

If you own a house, that will keep you busy—with paying the utility bills on time, and the property taxes. You don’t want to forget that. And don’t forget, as a home owner you have to fix everything that breaks, or call someone to do it for you.

A couple of years I ago I was away on a trip, which happens fairly often with my work, when I got a call from my wife (Linda). She said, “Guess what, the toilet isn’t working.” Ugh. The toilet. Come to find out it wasn’t just the toilet. It was all of the toilets (there are three), and the sewage system alarm was going off. We had a problem, and of course, it had to happen while I was away.

Our house is kind of unique, which is another way of saying, it’s complicated!

Because we live on a hill and have a steep driveway, the house is lower than the road—which means that gravity keeps the sewage from going from our house up to the city sewer line near the road. To get around this, the builder installed a holding tank (like a small septic tank) near the house that has a pump that keeps our world sane—when it works.

Not only is life complicated, sometimes it can be costly! We ended up paying close to $3,000 to make our toilets happy.

If you don’t think life is complicated, you must not have to fill out tax forms, or fly on a plane, or potty train a child, or be married, or try to navigate the complexities of our culture as a single person, or drive a car?

They tell us in a few more years we won’t have to drive anymore. That’s right! We’ll all be riding around in driverless cars that are operated by software designed by, you guessed it, people. What can possibly go wrong? I’m not a pessimists, but I’ve lived long enough to know that what people can create, somebody can hack.

I can just see the news headlines now—”Massive Four Million Car Pileup Orchestrated by North Korean Cyber Terrorists.”

Life is complicated.

I know a young man who, through no fault of his own, was diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was 18 years of age. Now in his late 30’s he has to take 17 pills a day, meet with a psychologist four times a month, in addition to visits with a psychiatrist.

Don’t tell him life isn’t complicated.

It’s a good thing we have smartphones because it’s not easy staying on top of it all without artificial intelligence. My Google calendar reminds me each day what I need to do, which bills need to be paid, where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to eat (well, not quite). But to an extent, our lives are ordered by the clocks.

Sometimes it feels like everything we humans touch becomes complex—to a fault. We want to analyze and control everything, including the church and spirituality. And often we only make things worse.

This is why Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light” (Matthew 11:28-30, NLT).

Yes, life is complicated, and it will probably get even more so in the coming months and years. But thank God he has not left us here to face it alone!

Rich DuBose writes from Northern California.

The post It’s Complicated appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

God Broke My Car

February 21, 2019 By admin

My boyfriend and I decided to celebrate our two-year anniversary by going camping. Driving down the highway, a loud bang sounded, shaking our vehicle. Cody clutched the wheel with all his strength.

“We’ve lost all power steering,” he exclaimed.

This was a surprise to me since we had recently paid to rework the entire vehicle. We coasted into the only gas station in sight which was already closed.

After looking at the engine, Cody called our friend Michelle to bring a part. With the hood open and our arms covered in grease, we were too focused on examining the engine to notice a white sedan pull into the desolate gas station. We continued to work on our vehicle until our friend arrived. After pulling into the station, she handed Cody the part and he set to work, while I glanced up at the gas pumps. I had noticed a strange retching noise but never turned to look. Now looking over, I saw a woman hunched beside her car, inebriated and violently vomiting. “Should we call 911?” I asked, turning to Michelle. Once on the phone, the operator told Michelle there was no one available to help and that we would have to wait.

Worried that the woman would attempt to drive away, Michelle and I approached her. “Ma’am,” Michelle asked, “Can we call someone for you?” We pressed for a name, for any information she would give us, but she only slowly lifted her face and stared at me with an empty gaze. Feeling unsettled, I told her that I would go into her car and find her phone to call someone for her.

Using the woman’s thumb, Michelle unlocked the phone and went through the woman’s contacts and dialed the contact named “Mom”. Concerned, her mother hotly exclaimed she would come pick her daughter up.

While we waited, I offered the woman water and, after much insisting, she feebly drank from my water bottle with my assistance.

Minutes passed and the woman reluctantly turned to me. “I was going to kill myself tonight,” she slurred.

I had noticed two brunette-haired boys on her phone screen and was immediately alarmed. Painful memories resurfaced. My ex-boyfriend had attempted suicide multiple times, and I knew how excruciatingly painful it was to experience that kind of loss.

The woman poured out her story in a defeated voice. She was a guard at the local prison and had recently been sexually abused by an inmate. Her employer required her to fill out paperwork for incidents involving inmates, but she was wrestling with the decision. The inmate threatened that if she told anyone or filed the paperwork, he would send his gang to kill her and her entire family.

Silence filled the air. I had tears streaming down my face.

“This was gonna be my third time trying to kill myself tonight,” the woman continued.

I examined her anguished face. “I saw you have two little boys. I know they love you so much and I know how much it would hurt them if you weren’t around,” I implored. My heart ached for her. I asked her if she had considered pursuing protection from the police and seeking counselling. She replied that she hadn’t.

Michelle told the woman how her own mother had killed herself and how it deeply hurt her. The woman listened intently and said she would like to seek help.

Once again, the woman peered at me through makeup-smeared eyes. “I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t remember driving.”

I looked up again at her vehicle and noticed how perfectly parked it was. I was speechless.

A few minutes later, the mother’s car hurtled into the gas station. We talked to the mother, and she told us she knew about the situation but was not aware of the degree of pain her daughter was carrying. She thanked us and drove her daughter back home in her daughter’s vehicle after parking her own down the street.

Ten minutes later, a state trooper in a crisp uniform arrived and asked all of us questions. He expressed gratitude for our help in ensuring she got home safely and for calling in a drunk driver. Then the state trooper left, and Cody and I hopped into the car. It started without a hitch, letting out its steadfast purr. Overwhelmed, we drove back home.

I know God broke our vehicle and guided that woman to the gas station. How miraculously every detail lined up can only be proof of His work. Though we never celebrated our anniversary, my boyfriend and I agree that God had a much better plan that day.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Carlye Smedley writes from the Pacific Northwest.

The post God Broke My Car appeared first on Answers for Me.

Read more at the source: God Broke My Car

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

I’m Thirty

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Don’t Forget Dietrich

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It’s Complicated

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God Broke My Car

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