Tell Me Something Good

“And now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word, by stretching forth thy hand to heal: and that signs and wonders may be done by the name of thy holy child Jesus.” (Acts 4: 29-30)

We are called as Christians to spread the Word of God…in a world that, for the most part, seems to have rejected Him. I’ve determined that this blog will continue to carry a line of Scripture each time and I always end each post with “May God bless you & keep you!”. If I am ashamed of Him, of my faith in Him, He will be ashamed of me when I finally shake off this mortal coil.

However, I remember how irritated I became in my youth when people started “Bible thumping” at me. No, I won’t change the structure of my blog…nor abandon my faith. He has shown me far too well over the last several years that, yes, He can be trusted.

But…the “Bible thumping”…

I spent my youth playing lead guitar and lead vocals in heavy metal bands. That usually startles people. I still hear the same “accusations” I heard from fellow band mates that I looked “too wholesome for metal”. Such was the bane of my existence…to the point that I bleached my hair almost white and got this awful perm that made me look like a reject from Twisted Sister.

And I still got accused of looking “too wholesome” despite damaging my mane.

Then there was the other side of this life: the “Bible thumpers” outside of the many concerts I attended. When I wasn’t playing and performing music, I was glued to the radio, or record player (yes, I’m that old!), or cruising around town in my little Dodge Omni, listening to Doro Pesch shouting about “All We Are” blaring out of the windows…even during winter when the windows were rolled up. (And I wonder why I have some hearing loss…). Concerts were a peek into the world I wanted to inhabit. They were where I learned about stage presence and got ideas for my own elaborate stage set, which obviously never materialized, but I was young and full of dreams of recording my own music someday and touring the world.

Until I got outside of the arena.

My Uncle Brian and I went to see Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister in concert one night. Great show by both bands but, as my stepfather was picking us up afterwards, we left before the final encore, catching only a glimpse of “Eddie” before we hurried out to the curb where my stepfather said he’d meet us.

“Those earrings are bitchin’!” he said, as they approached us. Both teens were about our age (I was maybe 17, Uncle Brian, 14 (yes, he’s younger than me…big families)), a boy and a girl. The guy was kind of cute, my boy-crazy self noted. Then he shattered it all by asking, “What do they mean?”

What do my earrings mean???

They were my favorites. Long, tear-drop shaped hoops with a crescent moon dangling on one side and a star on the other one. Both baubles were a little over an inch long. I remember how much they caught my eye at a flea market that my family and I often attended. But what did they mean?

It’s just a star and moon, I replied, still feeling perplexed, and wondering if he was mentally stable. Should Uncle Brian and I move away?

Then, when I revealed no deep, dark meaning behind those earrings, he followed it up with, “Did you know you were sinning in there?”

This from the guy who told me moments before that my earrings were “bitchin'”…to my 17 year-old self, who blushed crimson and ducked her head whenever I let “Damn!” slip in exasperated moments. I expected Mom’s chastisement for swearing to descend upon me, of course. (Oh, to be so young and innocent today; it’s rare that a day goes by now without me dropping an F-bomb or two…how times change!)

Anyway, thus began a long litany of how these heavy metal artists were “evil” and listening to their music was a sin passed bearing. When my stepfather’s pickup truck pulled up to the curb (10, 15 minutes later??? It felt longer), Uncle Brian and I quickly thanked our “hosts” for the religious pamphlets they’d handed to us and jumped into the cab with a collective sigh of relief. The guy meant well (he did most of the talking). But, as is often the case with many Christians, he was a little overzealous with his delivery. Instead of attracting people to “his” Jesus, he repelled.

I never want to be that sort of Christian. I love Jesus with all of my heart and soul, and I have no qualms offering prayers. I will gladly sit and talk to with you about Him, but only if you ask me to, or if I sense that you’re ready to hear about Him. I remember too well how it feels to have Him “pushed” on you…or to have someone instantly telling me everything I have to change about my life to follow Him. Those changes may be needed, but they will come in their own time the closer I get to Him…as they will with you. I want to plant seeds of faith, not bulldoze over you with His message. If I bring in the bulldozer, well, if you don’t run and hide, you may start off with good intentions, but whatever seeds I scatter before you will only stay on the surface of your heart. Eventually, the “sparrows” of worry and anxiety will gobble them back up.

Oh, but what about his blog?

You have a choice. You can continue reading it, or you can ignore it. It won’t go away, per se, but you have a choice NOT to read it. And that’s the thing about Jesus. He wants you to choose to come to Him, to cultivate a relationship with Him. If the choice is not your own, He knows the roots of that relationship, that faith, will be shallow and there won’t be any way for it to grow.

So, while I won’t stop blogging about my faith, I also won’t push. Jesus is a gentleman. He won’t push either. But maybe, just maybe, if you’ve been reading this far, He’ll water a seed or two that I’ve scattered here today and shine His Light upon it so it will grow.

As we enter this Yuletide season and celebrate His birth, that’s the greatest gift that I can offer anyone. May your hearts be open to receive it…and may God bless you & keep you!

Amen…