Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I've Moved!
Thank you for visiting Good and Perfect Gifts! As you can see, I'm no longer posting here, but you can find me at tamracorbeau.blogspot.com.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Fitting In
A couple of weeks ago, I walked 13.1 miles. Voluntarily. For fun (well, for fun and one of those snazzy "13.1" bumper stickers).
If you get up before sunrise to go to the gym, are motivated by phrases like, "feel the burn!" or enjoy playing sports, I don't think you can appreciate the enormity of those first few sentences. I am not one of you. Exercise has been my nemesis ever since I was about four years old. One of my earliest memories is trudging behind my mom on family walks, begging her to carry me and whining, "I'm sweating!!"
Over the years, I made several half-hearted attempts to stick to an exercise regimen, but it never lasted more than a few months and sometimes just a few hours. Besides the fact that I just didn't like to do it, my lack of athletic ability (I am the only person I know of who ever struck out at kickball) and inability to stick it out added the element of FAILURE to the notion of exercise, which only made me loathe it more.
So how did I go from perpetual exercise-avoider to a half-marathon finisher? I gave up. Unable to even summon the desire to exercise, I surrendered the matter to God. After some pouting and prayer, I committed to doing some exercise most days of the week as nothing more than an offering to Him…and we both knew there was no way I was going to fulfill that promise on my own. Outside of my promise, there were no expectations of performance or results; the only way I could fail was if I quit. Each time I completed a workout, I thanked God for it, because I knew it wasn't an act of willpower, but His power.
Miraculously, I've been at it for more than a year (except for the week my son and I had a contest to see who could get the sickest). Though I still don't like to sweat, I get antsy if I go more than a few days without a walk outside. As I've gotten stronger, exercise has gotten easier, and I've learned to enjoy things that require a certain level of stamina and strength. I never would have been able to scale Old Rag Mountain a few years ago, and it was after that adventure that my husband and best friend encouraged me to enter the USMC Historic Half. Walking it was an act of worship, a celebration of what God can do and did.
And yet, I feel like an imposter, a fraud. Despite the fact that I've trained for and completed a half marathon, I don't feel I fit in among the fit. My recent accomplishment doesn't align with my perception of who I am and what I'm capable of. But I think perhaps that's the whole point. When I only stick to those things I know I can do, it's easy to misplace my faith. If I never reach beyond what comes easy, I miss the gift of victory through His power.
If you get up before sunrise to go to the gym, are motivated by phrases like, "feel the burn!" or enjoy playing sports, I don't think you can appreciate the enormity of those first few sentences. I am not one of you. Exercise has been my nemesis ever since I was about four years old. One of my earliest memories is trudging behind my mom on family walks, begging her to carry me and whining, "I'm sweating!!"
Over the years, I made several half-hearted attempts to stick to an exercise regimen, but it never lasted more than a few months and sometimes just a few hours. Besides the fact that I just didn't like to do it, my lack of athletic ability (I am the only person I know of who ever struck out at kickball) and inability to stick it out added the element of FAILURE to the notion of exercise, which only made me loathe it more.
So how did I go from perpetual exercise-avoider to a half-marathon finisher? I gave up. Unable to even summon the desire to exercise, I surrendered the matter to God. After some pouting and prayer, I committed to doing some exercise most days of the week as nothing more than an offering to Him…and we both knew there was no way I was going to fulfill that promise on my own. Outside of my promise, there were no expectations of performance or results; the only way I could fail was if I quit. Each time I completed a workout, I thanked God for it, because I knew it wasn't an act of willpower, but His power.
Miraculously, I've been at it for more than a year (except for the week my son and I had a contest to see who could get the sickest). Though I still don't like to sweat, I get antsy if I go more than a few days without a walk outside. As I've gotten stronger, exercise has gotten easier, and I've learned to enjoy things that require a certain level of stamina and strength. I never would have been able to scale Old Rag Mountain a few years ago, and it was after that adventure that my husband and best friend encouraged me to enter the USMC Historic Half. Walking it was an act of worship, a celebration of what God can do and did.
And yet, I feel like an imposter, a fraud. Despite the fact that I've trained for and completed a half marathon, I don't feel I fit in among the fit. My recent accomplishment doesn't align with my perception of who I am and what I'm capable of. But I think perhaps that's the whole point. When I only stick to those things I know I can do, it's easy to misplace my faith. If I never reach beyond what comes easy, I miss the gift of victory through His power.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Living Water
I've never been the outdoorsy type. My ideal nature encounter is lounging near an indoor fountain. As long as the chair is comfortable, the temperature is just right, and there's not too much foliage around the fountain. Sometimes greenery–real or fake–can take on a serpentine look, and it freaks me out a little. That's right, I've been frightened by artificial greenery.
So it may surprise you to learn that I recently braved 50mph wind gusts, icy trails, and mud to hike 3291 feet to the top of Old Rag Mountain. Frankly, it surprised me too. Not long ago, just thinking about it would have made me uneasy because, well, it's outdoors, really outdoors.
In the past, I would have scoffed at the idea of immersing myself so deeply in the realm of the outdoors because there are just too many variables to manage. I guess maybe if there was a candy volcano at the top of the mountain or a great shoe sale or someone threw my car keys up there, I might have been willing to endure it. Maybe, but probably not. And sure, nature is pretty, but I drive through it every day, fountains abound, and I have these amazing nature-themed backgrounds for my computer screen. And with such things I was content.
That is, until God began to tug at the fears and idols I clung to. The fear of failure. The fear of exposing my vulnerabilities. The fear of the unpredictable. The idols of comfort and the illusion of control. These were all stones I used in the wall I constructed to shut out uncertainty, discomfort, and risk. In exchange, I was willing to trade the fullness of life for something I perceived as comfortable, safe, and predictable.
But that's not the kind of life we're called to, and over the last year or so, God has started to break through the stones in my wall. There has been an undeniable call to set aside the things that have limited me. A call to risk more, give more, and do more with what He has provided. A call to rest in Him so that I am free to enjoy more of life, more of others, more of His creation, and more of Him.
And though I resisted at first, I've learned that the more I surrender to Him, the more I trust Him, the more willing I am to follow after Him in faith, the more riches I uncover. My recent jaunt into the forest was a perfect illustration.
My favorite part of the hike was the creek that spilled down the mountain and ran parallel to much of the trail. At one point, I left the path to pick my way across the rocks and perch atop a large one right in the middle of the stream. Drinking in the beauty that surrounded me, I caught myself thinking, "this sounds just like a fountain," and had to laugh. Long satisfied with paltry substitutes, it's been fun to discover what I've been missing. I am so thankful my Father was not content to let the wall stand.
There are stones yet to be removed. I still struggle with fear. But now that I have tasted what is possible when I surrender my fears to God, I've stopped pretending to be satisfied with what comes easy and find myself looking forward to the next adventure. Sure, I may tremble a bit, but I know who began dismantling the wall and am certain He will finish the work.
So it may surprise you to learn that I recently braved 50mph wind gusts, icy trails, and mud to hike 3291 feet to the top of Old Rag Mountain. Frankly, it surprised me too. Not long ago, just thinking about it would have made me uneasy because, well, it's outdoors, really outdoors.
In the past, I would have scoffed at the idea of immersing myself so deeply in the realm of the outdoors because there are just too many variables to manage. I guess maybe if there was a candy volcano at the top of the mountain or a great shoe sale or someone threw my car keys up there, I might have been willing to endure it. Maybe, but probably not. And sure, nature is pretty, but I drive through it every day, fountains abound, and I have these amazing nature-themed backgrounds for my computer screen. And with such things I was content.
That is, until God began to tug at the fears and idols I clung to. The fear of failure. The fear of exposing my vulnerabilities. The fear of the unpredictable. The idols of comfort and the illusion of control. These were all stones I used in the wall I constructed to shut out uncertainty, discomfort, and risk. In exchange, I was willing to trade the fullness of life for something I perceived as comfortable, safe, and predictable.
But that's not the kind of life we're called to, and over the last year or so, God has started to break through the stones in my wall. There has been an undeniable call to set aside the things that have limited me. A call to risk more, give more, and do more with what He has provided. A call to rest in Him so that I am free to enjoy more of life, more of others, more of His creation, and more of Him.
And though I resisted at first, I've learned that the more I surrender to Him, the more I trust Him, the more willing I am to follow after Him in faith, the more riches I uncover. My recent jaunt into the forest was a perfect illustration.
My favorite part of the hike was the creek that spilled down the mountain and ran parallel to much of the trail. At one point, I left the path to pick my way across the rocks and perch atop a large one right in the middle of the stream. Drinking in the beauty that surrounded me, I caught myself thinking, "this sounds just like a fountain," and had to laugh. Long satisfied with paltry substitutes, it's been fun to discover what I've been missing. I am so thankful my Father was not content to let the wall stand.
There are stones yet to be removed. I still struggle with fear. But now that I have tasted what is possible when I surrender my fears to God, I've stopped pretending to be satisfied with what comes easy and find myself looking forward to the next adventure. Sure, I may tremble a bit, but I know who began dismantling the wall and am certain He will finish the work.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The Glory of the LORD Shall be Revealed...
For weeks, maybe even months, Isaiah 40:5 has been stuck in my head. I'm sure practicing and singing a portion of Handel's Messiah for our church's Christmas cantata has something to do with it, but while I rejoice in the birth of the Messiah, I treasure the promise that Isaiah's prophecies will be made complete in Christ's return, and this verse whispers wonders to my soul that I can only begin to grasp.
Often, I think, when we look forward to that day, we inadvertently miss the bigger picture. Daily faced with this world's imperfections, we await the "new heaven and new earth" (Revelation 21:1). Cares and struggles make us eager for the day when there will be "no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying," or pain (Rev. 21:4). When are weary, we are reassured that He has promised to reward us when He returns (Rev. 22:12), and we take comfort in knowing that someday, "God will wipe away every tear" (Rev. 7:17).
While all of these things are wonderfully true, when we dwell only on those things that speak to our temporal concerns, we miss the best part: "The glory of the LORD shall be revealed..." Can you imagine it? The glory of He who "has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand" (Isaiah 40:12) and who "stretches out the heavens like a curtain and spreads them out like a tent to dwell in" (Isaiah 40:22). The glory of the LORD who is the "everlasting God" who "neither faints or is weary" and whose "understanding is unsearchable" (Isaiah 40:28). The glory of the "KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS" (Rev. 19:16) shall be revealed, and "all flesh shall see it together" (Isaiah 40:5).
I can't imagine it, not really. It's too big for my human mind to understand. But something deep within me does understand, and my spirit literally dances in anticipation for the day when "all flesh shall see it together." Until then, we wait in confident expectation for this wondrous gift, certain it awaits us because "the mouth of the LORD has spoken it" (Isaiah 40:5).
Often, I think, when we look forward to that day, we inadvertently miss the bigger picture. Daily faced with this world's imperfections, we await the "new heaven and new earth" (Revelation 21:1). Cares and struggles make us eager for the day when there will be "no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying," or pain (Rev. 21:4). When are weary, we are reassured that He has promised to reward us when He returns (Rev. 22:12), and we take comfort in knowing that someday, "God will wipe away every tear" (Rev. 7:17).
While all of these things are wonderfully true, when we dwell only on those things that speak to our temporal concerns, we miss the best part: "The glory of the LORD shall be revealed..." Can you imagine it? The glory of He who "has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand" (Isaiah 40:12) and who "stretches out the heavens like a curtain and spreads them out like a tent to dwell in" (Isaiah 40:22). The glory of the LORD who is the "everlasting God" who "neither faints or is weary" and whose "understanding is unsearchable" (Isaiah 40:28). The glory of the "KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS" (Rev. 19:16) shall be revealed, and "all flesh shall see it together" (Isaiah 40:5).
I can't imagine it, not really. It's too big for my human mind to understand. But something deep within me does understand, and my spirit literally dances in anticipation for the day when "all flesh shall see it together." Until then, we wait in confident expectation for this wondrous gift, certain it awaits us because "the mouth of the LORD has spoken it" (Isaiah 40:5).
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
In My Father's House by Liz Swauger
(Note from Tamra: Good & Perfect Gifts has a guest blogger! I hope you enjoy this fabulous post as much as I did. Check out Liz's blog at http://iamhispoiema.blogspot.com/)
In Capernaum, and other places I’m sure, the tradition was that when a man wanted to marry a woman, he would build a home attached to wherever his parents lived. The homes were splayed out from the father’s home, with each child building onto it. There might be courtyards, but for the most part it was very connected and close in proximity. When the home, or room as they were more often like, was ready, the man would bring his wife back and they would consummate their marriage.
In Capernaum, and other places I’m sure, the tradition was that when a man wanted to marry a woman, he would build a home attached to wherever his parents lived. The homes were splayed out from the father’s home, with each child building onto it. There might be courtyards, but for the most part it was very connected and close in proximity. When the home, or room as they were more often like, was ready, the man would bring his wife back and they would consummate their marriage.
This was the exact type of setting that Jesus was overlooking in Capernaum when He said, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself that where I am you may be also” (John 14:2-3). The illustration was right in front of them!
I used to think, before this past Sunday when I was enlightened on Capernaum-ian culture, that this verse meant that Jesus had to go back to Heaven to make me a mansion. So, partially in jest, when I would do something particularly stunning for “the Kingdom” or honor God in some great way, I would quip, “You are helping me get that Jacuzzi!” or, “That’s okay, I just earned an extra level to my home in Heaven!” After all, the American Dream of more and more stuff must be directly translatable into heavenly “treasure”—no? So while my mind had constructed a giant mansion in (probably) a glitzy suburban neighborhood on one of Heaven’s golden streets, I was struck to have that thought derailed by a different picture.
One house. My Father’s house.
And an image of His Son, building a room for the bride of Christ. And when the house is complete, He will return and receive us there. Not flashy. Not multiple stories and endless amenities… but intimacy. Intimacy with the Son, and intimacy with the Father. It was not about me having something nice separated from God in my own heavenly time-share. It was about Christ bringing us back to be a part of His home with the Trinity.
The gift is that the triune God, driven by His love and desire for a relationship with us, doesn’t just “want us in Heaven”—that’s not close enough. He wants us in His home, not merely living, but abiding with Him and Our Father.
I used to think, before this past Sunday when I was enlightened on Capernaum-ian culture, that this verse meant that Jesus had to go back to Heaven to make me a mansion. So, partially in jest, when I would do something particularly stunning for “the Kingdom” or honor God in some great way, I would quip, “You are helping me get that Jacuzzi!” or, “That’s okay, I just earned an extra level to my home in Heaven!” After all, the American Dream of more and more stuff must be directly translatable into heavenly “treasure”—no? So while my mind had constructed a giant mansion in (probably) a glitzy suburban neighborhood on one of Heaven’s golden streets, I was struck to have that thought derailed by a different picture.
One house. My Father’s house.
And an image of His Son, building a room for the bride of Christ. And when the house is complete, He will return and receive us there. Not flashy. Not multiple stories and endless amenities… but intimacy. Intimacy with the Son, and intimacy with the Father. It was not about me having something nice separated from God in my own heavenly time-share. It was about Christ bringing us back to be a part of His home with the Trinity.
The gift is that the triune God, driven by His love and desire for a relationship with us, doesn’t just “want us in Heaven”—that’s not close enough. He wants us in His home, not merely living, but abiding with Him and Our Father.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Just a Quick Note
God is good and gifts abound, but I've been temporarily redirected. For several weeks I prayed about what to post and which writing project to focus on next and was a little frustrated because God seemed to be silent on both issues. Responding in my typical Type A fashion, I kept asking God the same questions and waiting for Him to respond the way I expected. However, when I finally stopped looking for the answers I expected and started listening for God's direction, I was reminded of something on my "To-Do Next" list.
I prayerfully compiled the "To-Do Next" list at the Proverbs 31 conference in August. It included big things like rewriting an article for publication and little things like sending emails and checking out blogs. I'm happy to report that I've crossed almost everything off the list. Almost. One big task remains however, and the only answer to my many prayers for writing direction pointed to that one thing: organize notes.
So, I am currently in the process of sorting through and organizing a year's worth of notes. These "notes" consist of vague outlines scribbled in my writing notebook, nearly illegible ideas scrawled on pieces of scrap paper at stoplights, and hastily jotted keywords turned cryptic messages because I was under the mistaken assumption I'd remember what I was thinking when I wrote down "buckets" on a post-it note and shoved it in my pocket.
In the midst of all this, my Type A personality is fretting a bit. My weekly blog hits have ticked up (thank you!), but everybody knows that out-of-date posts cause readers to lose interest. Still, I truly believe God wants me to get these notes sorted out before I move on, so that's what I'm going to do. I've had to remind my Type A personality that I've surrendered ambition and determined to simply respond to God's call. Whatever He chooses to do with that is a good and perfect gift.
I prayerfully compiled the "To-Do Next" list at the Proverbs 31 conference in August. It included big things like rewriting an article for publication and little things like sending emails and checking out blogs. I'm happy to report that I've crossed almost everything off the list. Almost. One big task remains however, and the only answer to my many prayers for writing direction pointed to that one thing: organize notes.
So, I am currently in the process of sorting through and organizing a year's worth of notes. These "notes" consist of vague outlines scribbled in my writing notebook, nearly illegible ideas scrawled on pieces of scrap paper at stoplights, and hastily jotted keywords turned cryptic messages because I was under the mistaken assumption I'd remember what I was thinking when I wrote down "buckets" on a post-it note and shoved it in my pocket.
In the midst of all this, my Type A personality is fretting a bit. My weekly blog hits have ticked up (thank you!), but everybody knows that out-of-date posts cause readers to lose interest. Still, I truly believe God wants me to get these notes sorted out before I move on, so that's what I'm going to do. I've had to remind my Type A personality that I've surrendered ambition and determined to simply respond to God's call. Whatever He chooses to do with that is a good and perfect gift.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Sing-Along
Sometimes the best gifts are those we share with others, and yet it's so easy to take corporate worship for granted. I don't mean to say it loses it's significance or ceases to be enjoyable, but if you go to church regularly, it's just a part of life. Get up on Sunday morning, go to church, listen to announcements, stand with congregation, sing God's praises. Repeat 52 times a year. But this past Sunday, God gave me a fresh perspective.
As I stood singing and pretending not to cry (see "I'm No Cry Baby") I let my eyes wander around the room. I kept singing, but after a few minutes, I was only half paying attention because my mind had taken a cue from my eyes and was wandering as well, (Judy's girls are so cute...Hey, it's Brenda! I haven't talked to her in awhile...I wonder if Sharon has sold her house yet? Where's Mary Jane? I've missed her...). And then, the chorus of a song tore my attention from these pleasantly temporal thoughts.
Savior, you showed your love
Defeated our sin, poured out your blood
So we praise you, lamb that was slain
We offer our lives to proclaim
"What a Savior!"
In that moment, I was struck by the mingling of the mundane and mysterious. I was confessing these words with hundreds of people, many of whom I know well and enjoy interacting with in the course of everyday life. Though the truth expressed was not new to me, I marveled as the throng of mere mortals gratefully proclaimed it afresh. Infinite, immutable, inexhaustible grace extended to all those who confess Christ. Generations of His redeemed children will sing of Him throughout all eternity. I wouldn't miss it for the world, would you?
As I stood singing and pretending not to cry (see "I'm No Cry Baby") I let my eyes wander around the room. I kept singing, but after a few minutes, I was only half paying attention because my mind had taken a cue from my eyes and was wandering as well, (Judy's girls are so cute...Hey, it's Brenda! I haven't talked to her in awhile...I wonder if Sharon has sold her house yet? Where's Mary Jane? I've missed her...). And then, the chorus of a song tore my attention from these pleasantly temporal thoughts.
Savior, you showed your love
Defeated our sin, poured out your blood
So we praise you, lamb that was slain
We offer our lives to proclaim
"What a Savior!"
In that moment, I was struck by the mingling of the mundane and mysterious. I was confessing these words with hundreds of people, many of whom I know well and enjoy interacting with in the course of everyday life. Though the truth expressed was not new to me, I marveled as the throng of mere mortals gratefully proclaimed it afresh. Infinite, immutable, inexhaustible grace extended to all those who confess Christ. Generations of His redeemed children will sing of Him throughout all eternity. I wouldn't miss it for the world, would you?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)