Sticks and Stones

by Joanie Butman

My husband and I attended a Masters party recently. While he was engrossed in the golf, I was enjoying dinner in another room with a friend. With my fork halfway to my mouth, my husband enters with this announcement: “There’s the chowhound. I should have known I’d find you by the food table.” Astounded by his statement, my girlfriend laughed so hard she almost choked. She later told me she couldn’t decide what was funnier – Bob’s jovial innocence with which he delivered his comment, or my face as I heard it.

His defense was that he meant it in a nice way. Oddly enough, I’m sure he did. Even so, as I explained to him, it would be difficult to perceive his remark as complimentary from any angle. Accustomed to his teasing, I just shook my head and thought, “Father, forgive him; for he knows not what he does.” In addition, he was spot on. I do have a healthy appetite, and I can often be found at the food table. A girl’s got to eat, right?

You see, this was just one in a long string of Bobisms. For example, there was the time my family was discussing the celebrity marriage of Tom Brady. Bob offered this observation, ”I would never want a beautiful wife. Too much maintenance.” He couldn’t imagine why the kids and I just looked at him, stunned by his failure to recognize the unintended slight. It got worse (as it usually does) when he tried to talk his way out of it. Then there was another time when our children were babies and we were in a group discussing childbirth and its effect on the body. Out of nowhere Bob shared a visual of my post-baby boobs – golf balls in socks! I doubt anyone present ever looked at me the same way. Sadly, there is no shortage of material to cull from in Bob’s repertoire.

Though my friend was aghast, for someone who grew up with nicknames like Gastank and Load, I’m somewhat immune by now. And if I wasn’t when I got married, 25 years of Bobisms have helped me grow a thicker skin. He may have an unusual interpretation regarding terms of endearment, but I can say with confidence he intends no harm. Even so, you’d think self-preservation would have kicked in somewhere over the past 25 years, but some habits are hard to break.

Coincidentally, last Sunday’s sermon was on nicknames; specifically, Jesus’ inclination to assign pet names for his disciples. His choices usually emphasized the person’s potential and strength. Their new names reflected what Christ saw in them and were symbols of how God transformed their lives. For example, Peter became the Rock, James and John – Sons of Thunder, Barnabas – Son of Encouragement. Only Doubting Thomas seems to have gotten the short end of the stick in the nickname department. Who wants to be remembered by their weakest moment? Peter didn’t become Peter the Denier, nor was Paul the Persecutor. If Jesus were to choose a nickname for me who knows – eating is my forte, so I suppose Chowhound wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. Did you know there are hundreds of names for the persons of the Trinity in the Bible, each used to reveal a unique characteristic?*

Regardless, the sermon made me think of some of the names I’ve picked up over my life that have unintentionally stuck. The ones others may have teasingly assigned or the self-inflicted ones I need to take responsibility for – including the ‘askhole’ criticism I made last week, which a number of readers called me out on. 

Here’s what I’ve concluded. The rhyme “sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me” is a big fat LIE. Words do hurt, which is why you have to make sure the ones you are replaying in your mind are Godly ones. If they are derogatory in nature, you can be sure they are not from God because He doesn’t speak in those terms. If that’s the case, it’s time to make a conscious decision to change the tape.

Much like many of us have pet names for our children, Jesus has the same for us and I can guarantee you that Chowhound, Gastank and Load are not among them. These are the ones I need to be reminded of daily because they shape my identity in Him and help me to become the person He created me to be. Here’s just a few:

God’s special possession (1 Peter 2:9)

Fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14)

Salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13)

Light of the world. (Matthew 5:14)

Set apart for Him (Jeremiah 1:5)

Holy in His sight, without blemish and free from accusation (Colossians 1:22)

His friend (John 15:15)

His bride (John 3:29)

His beloved (Song of Solomon 2:16)

Words can elevate or eviscerate. It would behoove us to choose them wisely – the ones we speak to others and, just as importantly, the ones we speak to ourselves.


Father, forgive me for not agreeing with You that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Forgive me for believing the lies that I have to be somebody other than who I am.

Help me to come into agreement with Your love for me and not despise all my imperfections.

The fact that You love me and accept me is more important

than the love and acceptance from anyone else.

I am thankful that I am Your child, and that I am fearfully and wonderfully made!

I know that full well.

In the name of Your beloved Son Jesus I pray,

Amen.

*Biblical names for God: http://www.smilegodlovesyou.org/names.html

Prayer Warrior?

by Joanie Butman

Recently, a friend was organizing a local group to participate in the 64th National Day of Prayer on May 7th. She asked if I would be willing to be a speaker. I literally laughed out loud. “Are you kidding? Reverence isn’t my specialty, and my prayer life couldn’t inspire a toddler.” I went on to explain how I resigned from Bible study leadership because I kept nodding off during prayer time. Half joking, I suggested maybe doing a light-hearted introduction. Much to my dismay, she took me up on the offer. Now I had to come up with a speech on a topic on which I feel woefully inadequate. At least I did until I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller where he reminded me that dozing off during prayer wasn’t a unique issue. I will recap:

Keller discussed the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane the night Jesus was arrested. Jesus explains to His disciples that this is the hour of His greatest need. He has never needed friends like He needs them right now. He asks, “Please just stay awake with me and pray with me?” He then goes to pray and comes back to find them all asleep. Jesus responds, “The spirit is willing; but the flesh is weak,” which Keller translated to a loving “I know you meant well.”

For someone with a propensity toward dozing off, I find great comfort in Keller’s translation. I don’t think Jesus cares how or where we pray. It doesn’t have to be eloquent – just heartfelt. It’s your intention and motivation that He’s interested in, not necessarily the execution. How we pray is as personal as our relationship with Christ and can’t be dictated by any person, group, or ideology.

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Simply put, Jesus wants us in prayer constantly because He wants to be an intimate part of our lives. He wants us to offer our joys, sorrows, fears and anxieties to Him – not necessarily so that He can eliminate them, but so He can share them. He is always patiently waiting to help us carry the load and remind us that He is with us by filling us with His peace. Unfortunately, you can’t store up this kind of peace, which is exactly why we need to continually return to the source.

I will leave it to the pundits to discuss the theology of prayer. I don’t know HOW it works, and frankly, I don’t need to know. I pray because it keeps me connected to God and to others. How He chooses to use those prayers is up to Him, but I’m certain He uses whatever prayers we offer – even those short arrow prayers we shoot up toward Heaven as we go about our day.

That said, I will share a number of convictions I’ve developed over the years regarding prayer.

1. “Prayer is not a way for us to control God; it is a way for us to put ourselves under His control.”*
2.  Prayer opens our hearts to His presence and our minds to His thoughts.
3.  Prayer changes us, NOT Him.
4.  Prayer gives God the opportunity to align what we want with what we need.

There are days when I stumble over my prayers, fearful that they might actually be answered. You see, my requests vacillate minute to minute, which is why I don’t put much stock in them. For example, praying for Mr. Right to pop the question when God knew full well he was Mr. Wrong, or praying for lightening to strike Mr. Wrong when it didn’t work out. When it comes to prayers, I’m what some might call an askhole - someone who constantly asks for guidance, yet does exactly the opposite of what she’s told.

Historically, I’ve never known what was best for me at any given moment, and God has shown His divine mercy by not answering many of my pleas in the manner that I’ve requested. There is a life-long string of evidence indicating that I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. I can almost guarantee that if I am begging for something, it’s probably not what God has in mind. Consequently, I have learned to relinquish my own desires and pray, “Thy will be done. Please help me recognize it, accept it, stop worrying about, and get out of your way.” When in doubt, the shortest, most efficient prayer I use is a fervent “HELP!”

The true value of prayer is that it is an expression of our love for God and each other, and it is this love that comforts us and pleases God. God doesn’t instruct us to pray always because He needs to be reminded of our needs. It’s because we need to be reminded of His presence and sovereignty; which, in turn, fills us with His comfort and peace.

My favorite time to pray is first thing in the morning because frankly, it’s easy to be a Christian while I’m sleeping. It’s the moment I wake up that I need the most help. Also, by doing my daily devotions in the morning I avoid the issue of drowsiness. It is a routine I rarely miss and sets the tone for my day. If I can offer any worthwhile advice, it’s to choose a routine that works best for you. There’s no prayer police monitoring your efforts.

Ironically, after spending much thought about what I could possibly say to a group gathered for a National Day of Prayer, I received an email this week cancelling the event, which left me sharing my thoughts with you instead. I can’t say I was disappointed. In fact, I was downright joyful. I’m still on the hook for next year – perhaps that will give me time to find someone more qualified. Any volunteers?

Lastly, there are times in life when our choices may be limited or even non-existent, but you can always choose prayer.

Choose wisely.

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*Holy Bible, New International Version, Page 1806.

A ‘Me Too’ Friend

Over the years I’ve had a number of wardrobe malfunctions – like the time I was on an escalator in the World Trade Center during rush hour. I tripped over something as I stepped off and looked down to discover my skirt wrapped around my ankles. Apparently, the clasp came undone and it just slid down without me noticing. Thank goodness slips were still in vogue at the time – it could have been ugly. In typical New York fashion, I just hitched it up without skipping a beat. I had no choice; the crowd would have trampled me. No one even noticed. At least that’s what I told myself as I continued walking with one hand holding up my skirt.

This week’s incident wasn’t nearly as dramatic, but embarrassing nonetheless. I arrived at the health club for a Pilates class and while chatting with some instructors, they noticed something on the floor by my feet. One of them commented with a bewildered look, “Is that someone’s underwear?” I glanced down and immediately recognized my favorite granny pants. Oh yes, not a cute, lacy pair of underwear, but the kind that could double as a parachute in an emergency. I immediately felt my butt, as if the underwear in question were somehow able to defy the laws of physics and fall off my body with my pants still on. It was just so surreal. What was my underwear doing on the floor of the gym, and why did I admit they were mine? Puzzled, I hastily stuffed them in my pocket as if this were an everyday occurrence. Oopsie! When I relayed the story to a friend, she laughed and told me she had something similar happen to her. So what’s the lesson?

1. Never take your workout pants from the dryer without checking for static cling.
2. Nothing beats the reassurance of hearing a friend say, ‘me too.’

Though lesson number one is not something I will easily forget, it is the second one that resonated deeply. There is nothing more comforting than when someone says with a nod of understanding, ‘me too.’ There’s that flood of relief and the thought, “Thank goodness, I thought it was just me.” Knowing there is someone who understands what you’re going through makes any burden seem lighter (or embarrassing moment funnier). It’s the basis of any support group, friendship or fellowship of any kind. People seek solace from those who can relate to their situation.

Jesus came to save us, yes; but an important aspect of Him stooping to our level was to share in our humanity so that we could have in Him the ultimate, divine ‘me too’ friend. He may have never had to contend with the embarrassment of a wardrobe malfunction, but there isn’t anything you face that He hasn’t experienced: humiliation, suffering, pain, temptations of every kind, betrayal, injustice, loss, isolation, rejection, disgrace, persecution, indifference, even family issues. Try explaining that your Dad’s really God. No wonder His brothers initially thought he was having delusions of grandeur.

Regardless of how alone you may feel, Christ is always ready to come alongside you with a knowing and loving ‘me too’ to offer solace, support, strength, encouragement, and compassion. But, as always, we have to choose to let Him.

Choose wisely.

The Real Me

Joanie Butman

A shocking notification arrived in the mail this week. Apparently, the Wacoal iPant shaper I purchased years ago does not live up to its claim to reduce cellulite and thigh size. WHAT?!?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? I’ve been walking around for two years believing my butt and thighs were smooth and shapely. I can understand why my husband didn’t say anything – he doesn’t have a death wish, but where were my girlfriends who are the only ones who can deliver this kind of truth safely. In any event, the FTC sued Wacoal for making misleading claims not adequately supported by scientific data, and I was entitled to a refund – small consolation.

Though I swear by shapewear, I’ve always considered the Spanx revolution a gross misrepresentation. There are a slew of men wondering how the size 6 woman they met morphed into a size 10 overnight. It’s all smoke and mirrors. There are bras to add cup sizes, butt inserts to mimic Kim Kardashian, and full-length body suits guaranteeing to reduce your dress size. Add these to the myriad of available cosmetic enhancements and how does anyone know what the ‘real’ person looks like?

Not only that, recent articles have cautioned women that Spanx and Other Shapewear Are Literally Squeezing Your Organs,* causing health issues from acid reflux to incontinence. So you may look good – but at what cost?

On the other hand, when it comes to spiritual undergarments, smoke and mirrors won’t get you far. There’s no disguising the condition of your heart. There are those that attempt to fool others with religiosity (a form of spiritual Spanx creating an illusion of ‘holiness’), but there’s no hiding anything from Christ. He knows every crease and dimple of our souls – and loves us anyway. Of course we’re not worthy. He doesn’t love us because we’re worthy. He loves us because we’re His. When we fully grasp this certainty, we become free to bless rather than impress others.

When I have a spiritual concept to learn, God often tutors me through writing and the discussions that follow. Coupled with my previous blog, it’s obvious that accepting His unconditional love is a recurrent theme. As my friend said in response to last week’s post, “It sounds so easy, but it’s harder than doing, doing, doing. It starts with getting out of the way of myself and seeing myself the way He sees and loves me.” Amen, sister!

Christ’s unconditional love is a difficult truth for many of us to grasp because we, as humans, aren’t capable of it. A parent/child relationship is probably as close as we come, but not for everyone. We are trained from an early age to ‘earn’ the respect and approval of others. Now more than ever, society puts an enormous amount of pressure on the upcoming generation, constantly weighing and measuring their appearance and performance – and it never ends. This mentality has given rise to what some call the Deadly Ps: perfect, perform, pretend. Hence all the smoke and mirrors we spend countless hours and dollars creating, fearful of letting others see the real person.

If you’re feeling suffocated by spiritual shapewear (also known as shame), choose to let it all hang out to the only truly effective Higher Power – Jesus. He provides a much more comfortable ‘all-day embrace’ smoothing out our imperfections with His grace. Good Friday and Easter represent the cost He paid for us to appear flawless in God’s sight. It is finished. That’s a truth we can all choose to embrace and celebrate today and every day.

The following lyrics from Natalie Grant's The Real Me are a good reminder.

But you see the real me

Hiding in my skin, broken from within

Unveil me completely

I'm loosening my grasp

There's no need to mask my frailty

Cause you see the real me

And you love me just as I am

Wonderful, beautiful is what you see

When you look at me

*http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/01/20/spanx-shapewear_n_4616907.html

Spring Fling

by Joanie Butman

Where do I begin to describe the two-week Seinfeld episode I just lived? Florida is a study in contrasts. I’m not sure what was more amusing – the shenanigans of the South Beach spring breakers or my in-laws ‘Depend-able’ cocktail table in Marco Island. I went from a town with no rules (that I could see) to receiving a parking violation for my BICYCLE from the condo board at my parents’ complex, which has rules governing anything that remotely resembles fun. Collectively, over the years, our family has managed to break them all and even be the impetus for initiating a slew of new ones. We’re rabble rousers of the worst sort, with infractions ranging from playing catch on the lawn to entering the pool without showering. I always laugh at the strict swim diaper rule because the ‘noodlers’ probably need them more than the occasional visiting toddler.

Regardless, arriving in South Beach I empathized with Dorothy landing in OZ because “I definitely was not in Kansas anymore.” I earned the distinction of having the most skin covered than anyone else. My skirted, granny swimsuit didn’t cut it in this land of thongs and banana hammocks. I left with two observations:

1. Whatever you have looks better brown.

2. Most people look better with clothes on, and ironically those with flawless bodies AREN’T necessarily the ones prancing around scantily clad.

More than once I thought to myself, “People, have you no shame?” No, they don’t, and why should they? Because they haven’t bought into the myth that you have to be a size 0 to be attractive? Inadvertently, amidst the South Beach craziness, I stumbled on a truth God has been trying to teach me for as long as I can remember. In fact, it was on an aerial banner trolling the beach all week that read, “The real you is beautiful.” I had to wonder if the bikini-selling sponsors of that sign had walked the beach recently. 

On a physical level, I fall in the camp of those who look better tan and fully dressed. However, even though I need to be constantly reminded, I can be comfortable baring my soul (as opposed to my bottom) without shame or fear of rejection or condemnation. Though it is an unusual place to be spiritually fed, my Lenten lesson from South Beach and Marco is Christ’s constant reminder, “There isn’t anything you can do or not do that will make Me love you any more or any less regardless of the size of your bathing suit or the number of violations you incur. If you could just learn to see yourself the way I see you, you could ease up on yourself and live life more freely and abundantly. Stop trying to talk Me out of loving you. The only one you’re convincing is yourself. Instead of trying to talk Me out of it, listen to Me talking you into it.”

The best part of South Beach was the free food and drinks in the club lounge. I always get myself into trouble under those circumstances, eating and drinking way more than necessary as if “But it’s free” is a viable excuse for overindulging. Too bad I don’t embrace that attitude more often when visiting Christ’s spiritual club lounge. He presents a smorgasbord of His love and mercy free for all, but we still have to choose to come to the table. This is one instance where “I want more” is a good thing. Still, He doesn’t force feed anyone anymore than the accommodating staff in South Beach. Yes, they put out a beautiful spread every day, but I still had to choose to avail myself of it. And so it is with God. His love and mercies are new every morning.

I’m sure some of the characters I observed in South Beach were desperate for attention because no one walks around practically naked unless they want to be noticed. Sadly, the kind of attention they receive will never satisfy the deep human longing for affirmation. Or if it does, it will be temporary and shallow at best. How blessed am I that I already have the attention and affirmation of the only One who matters. You can too if you so choose.

Choose wisely.

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