"Do not throw your pearls before swine..."

"Let me love you, my Lord and my God, and see myself as I really am – a pilgrim in this world, a Christian called to respect and love all whose lives I touch, those in authority over me or those under my authority, my friends and my enemies. Help me to conquer anger with gentleness, greed by generosity, apathy by fervor. Help me to forget myself and reach out towards others." (Prayer attributed to Clement XI of Rome)

The Lord truly knows what is going on in every fiber of my body.  Yesterday, I was ranting about other people's behaviors and how I am trying very hard not to fight fire with fire because, well, they aren't worth it.  Today, the Lord convicts me.  And reminds me that no matter what type of people I encounter, I should always look at them as God's children, too.  

Maybe God sent them my way so I could practice patience and teach me the value of kind words and what they can do.  Maybe God wants me to be aware of my "critical spirit" and help me in giving it up.  *Sigh*  The Lord truly loves me and firmly but lovingly reprimands me when I do something which does not please Him.

A Roomful of TBs

When we were younger, we used to call loud-mouths TBs.  In Tagalog, taga-bundok.  Translation: mountain people.  See, during the times of our forefathers, the only way for them to communicate with people who live far-far away (translation: kabilang ibayo) was either thru A) smoke signal; B) horn-blowing; or C) by emitting a loud warning cry ala-Tarzan.

Imagine the distance that separated these tribes from one another!  Of course, if I lived 7,000 miles away from my nearest neighbor, I would holler too.  But what I don't get is, why should someone shout when the person he or she is talking to is just an earshot away?  TB!

Also, another thing I don't get is the habit of name calling.  Or using codes in order to prevent the person you are talking about from knowing that you are actually talking about him or her.  How juvenile!  (Ay, baka hindi maintindihan ang meaning ng juvenile.  I'll use a smaller word--immature.  Or better yet, childish.)

If I were in 4th grade, i would probably be doing the same thing--you know, being boisterous, even crass, or giving nicknames to people my friends and I would be talking about.  But if you're 20-something, it could be rather unbecoming to be acting that way.  

Finesse--now, that's a word TBs may not have heard of their entire lives.  I pray that they go pick up a dictionary and learn what it means.  And learn how it is spelled.  And maybe use it in a sentence.  Hopefully, with much practice, they could even use it for everyday conversation.  Who knows?  

Good grief!  I'm such a sucker for miracles!

Mating Call

It's interesting to note that animals have various ways of calling the attention of the opposite sex.  This is what is known as the mating call.  I Googled "mating calls of animals" and top of the list is Mingle2 - How Animals Date: The Top 5 Weirdest Mating Call.  I would've loved to try listening to the penguin's "fog horn" or see the camel's "tongue whip", but I didn't have the time.  Maybe when I'm not busy...

But, on with the story.  The reason why I'm blogging about this is because I've been trying to explain why a group of 3 to 4 girls can sound like a gaggle of geese fighting over a single snail.  I've seen and heard them everywhere.  And I wonder, why in the world would one talk to girl friends who are sitting shoulder to shoulder with you in a voice that is a gazillion decibels higher than an SM demo merchandizer's voice?

And then the words "mating call" flashed before my eyes.

And I realized, these girls are trying to attract guys!  That's why they were so noisy!  I don't know if I'd pity them for not having experienced being "mated" (translation: having a guy attracted to them, being pursued, dating, having a boyfriend).  Or whether I am just being nice by offering an excuse for their inexcusable barbaric behavior. 

Whatever the reason is, I gues what I'm trying to do is really keeping myself from coming up to them and punching them in the face.  Oh, well.  At least I have an excuse not to... for now.

The Busy Woman's Guide to Prayer (No matter how packed your daily planner is!)

Here's another "borrowed" blog from Today's Christian Woman (http://www.christianitytoday.com/tcw/).  Enjoy!

Cheri Fuller | posted 5/02/2007

Like Martha in the Bible, I have lots to do—office work, writing projects, laundry, cooking, cleaning. Just this week, for instance, I had a deadline to meet, my daughter-in-law was hospitalized, and I cared for her baby. Add in meals to cook, a household to run, a prayer group to lead, and preparation for an overseas ministry trip. It's a real challenge to squeeze in time for prayer!

I used to think, If I don't pray at a certain time of day, then my prayers don't really count. Then my prayer life underwent a radical transformation. I discovered the apostle Paul's command to "pray continually" (1 Thessalonians 5:17) means more than just spending a lot of time in prayer; it means sharing a continual dialogue with God wherever I go.

Praying continually isn't just another duty or heavy burden to bear

The truth that God listens to my prayers wherever I am didn't sink in until my son, Chris, left to attend a university 20 hours from home. Oh, how I missed hearing his voice! Busy with premed classes, intramural basketball, and studying, Chris didn't call often. But once in a while, the phone would ring, and it would be Chris. I'd drop everything—the project I was working on, dinner preparations—just to hear my son's voice.

One day I realized God feels the same way about me, only hundreds of times more, because I'm his child (John 1:12)! Whether I'm walking, driving across town, or sending a prayer heavenward from my computer, he delights in hearing from me—not just once a day, but throughout the day. Scripture says he "inclines his ear" and is "open to hear" my prayers (Psalm 40:1 34:15).

I became even more excited about the effects of praying continuously when I noticed that throughout the Bible, God used short prayers to accomplish great things—such as raising the dead or parting the Red Sea. It dawned on me that thoughts such as, But I can't pray long enough, or If I can't pray one hour, then why pray? have no biblical basis. It's wonderful to have longer sessions of prayer when I can, but remembering that my short prayers can have a big impact encourages me to pray throughout the day.

Whether you're married or single, with or without children, you probably struggle with your prayer life as I did with mine. The good news is, you don't have to put either life or prayer on hold. Here's how to begin building a 24/7 prayer life.

Get a Good Start
For me, a life of continuous prayer now starts even before I lift my head off the pillow. I say, "Lord, this is the day you've made; help me focus on you in the midst of all I've got to do."

I read God's Word before the demands of the day flood in, because Scripture never fails to draw me into prayer and praise. Praying things such as "Lord, help me to trust in you with all my heart and not lean on my own understanding" (from Proverbs 3:5-6), or "Thank you, Father, that you are compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in love" (from Psalm 103:8), helps me zero in on the Mountain-Mover instead of the mountains I may be facing. And most days I pray these and other prayers for my family and friends during my morning walk.

My friend Betsy also starts her day with prayer and exercise. Betsy—who's active in her church's women's ministry, leads a neighborhood Bible study, and serves on various committees and boards—still finds time to pray faithfully for many people and concerns while walking 30 minutes on her treadmill. For example, Betsy prayed for me to experience energy and strength while I spoke at her church's retreat—and I did! I know that Betsy's "treadmill prayers" are effective because I've personally experienced God's answers to them.

Clue into Visual Reminders
I use the things around me as visual cues to prompt me to pray. For example, as I pass the windows of neighbors' houses on my morning walk, I pray, "God, let your light shine in; bless them and draw them closer so they'll know you." As I shower after walking, I pray, "Lord, please create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me; cleanse my heart of sin" (from Psalm 51:10). When I drive past a school and see a school-zone sign, I make the area a "prayer zone" by asking God to protect the students and to give all the teachers wisdom.

Later, as I bake bread or cook a meal, I'm reminded to pray that Christ would be the Bread of Life for the person receiving it. Picking up a loved one's shoes triggers me to pray that his feet will stay on God's path. Seeing something lovely—a mallard duck flying through the sky or fresh blooms on a rose bush—reminds me to say a prayer of thanks to God for his creation.

My friend Peggy also likes using visual cues. When she puts on her seat belt before heading to the high school to substitute teach, she says, "Lord, I want to abide in you and be yoked with you." When she stops at a stop sign, she takes a deep breath and says, "My rest is in you alone, Lord. I may be trying to get somewhere, but thank you that you are preparing the way."

With visual cues to prompt us, all our daily activities—gardening, cleaning, working, or creating—become springboards to conversation with God.

Use Tools to Stay Focused
It's easy for my mind to wander during prayer. One way I counteract this is by using the acronym B-L-E-S-S as I pray for my family and friends. Each letter in the acronym stands for a key area of life: Body, Labor, Emotional, Social, and Spiritual.

For example, for our son, Chris, who's now a Navy doctor, I prayed today: "Lord, bless Chris's body; strengthen and protect him during his deployment. Bless Chris's labor; give him wisdom as he cares for the Marines' medical needs and injuries. Bless Chris's emotional life; help him trust you concerning his and his wife Maggie's move to Hawaii. Father, bless Chris's social relationships; bring him a Christian friend on the ship while he's deployed. And bless Chris's spiritual life; help him draw near to you and your Word more each day."

Dena, a busy mother of four, always felt guilty about not praying more often. She needed a way to focus her attention during the snippets of time she found herself alone. So one day she wrote down every prayer request she could think of—for herself, family, friends, church, community, nation, and world. Then she divided them into 31 equal segments and put them in a notebook. She keeps the notebook in her bathroom, one of the only places she has a few minutes alone. Each day she prays over the few items that correspond to the day of the month. Dena's notebook helps her focus on each of the many needs in her world—one day, one minute at a time.

Pray on the Spot
With all I've got going on, I don't want to forget to pray for others' struggles. So instead of saving those prayers for a special prayer time, I pray right on the spot. If a friend asks me to pray for a specific need, I offer to pray with her right then. If a speeding ambulance passes me while I'm driving, I immediately pray for the people in it and for the doctors who'll care for the injured people at the hospital.

Connie, a busy mom, Bible teacher, and Christian psychotherapist, finds time to pray for the many people she sees each day by praying on the spot, too. At the end of each counseling session, Connie takes a few moments to pray with her client. She then pauses to ask God that he would give her wisdom and discernment to help the next patient before he or she arrives (Psalm 119:66). Connie also prays the same prayer for the patients she sees heading into nearby medical offices.

"Even in the midst of my busy days, God gives me 'mini-moments' to lift those around me in prayer," says Connie. "Everyone we come in contact with daily is struggling with something. It may be their job, their marriage, an illness, or stress. Everyone needs our prayers."

I'm still a Martha by nature, but I've found praying continually isn't just another duty or heavy burden to bear. Prayer is how I know God, not just know about him; it's how I hear God, not just hear about him. Time after time, when I pour out my burdens, concerns, and problems, I experience his peace and hope. I see his faithfulness more clearly. I experience his comfort in trials, his unfailing love as I see him provide for needs about which I've prayed.

E.M. Bounds, a 19th-century pastor, said, "Your prayers will outlive your life." Long after my address has changed to heaven, the short prayers I've said while rocking a feverish baby, working on the computer, or moving throughout my day, still will be a blessing to those for whom I've prayed. tcw

Cheri Fuller, a TCW regular contributor, is a speaker and author of books such as One Year of Praying Through the Bible (Tyndale). Her website, www.cherifuller.com, contains a monthly column, resources, and inspiration on prayer.

Pretty Woman

Here's one from Today's Christian Woman (http://www.christianitytoday.com/tcw/) I know most girls would be able to relate to.  I know I did.  And it takes a lot of guts to be able to...

I thought "beautiful" was out of reach for an average woman like me. Or was it?

Shea M. Gregory | posted 5/10/2007

When I was a little girl, I used to wonder if, before we were born, we stood in line in heaven and requested our lives.

"Ah," I imagined a large angel with an imposing wing span speaking to me, "you're going to be a girl. Very well, what would you like? Long legs? A great figure? Fame? Fortune?"

Innocently I answered him, "If you please, sir, I'd like … a nice personality." And with no time to reconsider—Zap!—I was born and here I am. Less than five feet tall, not-so-straight teeth, blotchy skin, and enough of a figure for two women.

Once, I asked my brother if he thought I was pretty. He glanced up at me from his sheet music and told me to go away. "Darnell, I'm serious," I whined. "Am I pretty?" Realizing the only way to get me to leave was to answer me, he took a deep breath and looked me over from head to toe.

"Your face is all right," he said finally. "You have a quirky personality. You're okay."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice rising. "So, what you're saying is, I'm too fat and I act like a fool!"

"That's not what I said," he answered calmly, returning to his work.

"That's not what you said? That's exactly what you said!" I spit out at him. "You said no guy will ever want me because I'm ugly and I'm stupid! What do I have to do to get a little affirmation around here?!" I yelled, storming from the room.

So this was my life. Throughout it I struggled with feelings of ugliness and inadequacy. My friends had good looks, skinny ankles, and straight teeth. They got asked out on dates. I got dates on a fruit tray at Christmas. They became homecoming queens and cheerleaders while I wallowed in a state of below averageness, longing to be an airbrushed model, waiting to wake up beautiful.

Then one day I met Jesus. A girlfriend had invited me to church. As I sang along with the rest of the voices lifted in worship, I was overcome by a sense of guilt and unworthiness. This wonderful God we were singing about, how could he love fat and ugly me? But during the service I began to realize that God doeslove me—just as I am. That day I accepted God's love and sacrifice for me. Over time I've gained the assurance that he loves me more than I can imagine and that I'm truly beautiful in the way that matters most—on the inside.

But my old negative feelings about myself didn't immediately disappear. Some days, they came in droves, and I struggled to battle them off. Like the time I met with my friends Diane and Leona for lunch.

I was thirtysomething, reaching my sexual prime, unmarried, and retaining water. It wasn't a good day. We met at a local restaurant and the topic of conversation quickly turned to men.

"So, how's Eugene?" Diane asked.

Leona waved her hand. "Oh, please, no," she answered.

"You're not seeing him anymore?" I asked.

"Girl, that was two weeks ago," she replied, "and we weren't really seeing each other. We were just, you know, talkin'."

"Oh," Diane and I replied in unison.

"No!" Leona stressed emphatically and started naming other guys she'd met recently.

"What I want to know is how and where you meet these men?" Diane queried.

Leona sighed heavily as if disgusted by it all. Personally, I was on the edge of my seat, ready to take mental notes. At the first opportune moment, I'd run to the bathroom and write it all down on a square of toilet paper. She took a slow, laborious bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

Please answer the question,I thought to myself. I was holding my breath. My future hung in the balance between Leona's answer and pastrami on rye.

She took too long. I reached over and moved her plate to the other end of the table. "Spill the beans, now!" I hissed.

Leona pouted as if I'd hurt her feelings, then rolled her eyes. She'd seen this look before. It was ugly. My glare spoke envy. It exposed my desperation and longing, all the feelings a mature Christian woman should have been able to rise above. But this Plainer-Than-Jane was sick and tired of being quirky. I wanted a man.

"Where are the men? How do I get one?" I whispered.

Leona pursed her lips. But I held my ground. No info, no sandwich.

I won.

"You know how it is," she said. "You walk out the door and men ask you out on a date."

What?!

"Oh," I replied softly. Obviously I lived in the wrong neighborhood. I looked to Diane. After a few moments she remembered she had food in her mouth and closed it.

"You girls know what it's like," Leona continued. "You can't even walk to the car these days without having men stop to talk to you."

"No, Leona," I said flatly. "I don't know what it's like."

"Oh, girl, yes you do," she insisted.

This Plainer-Than-Jane was sick and tired of being quirky. I wanted a man.

I watched Leona. She was drop-dead beautiful from head to toe. Her movements were soft and flowing, her voice soft, sultry. Every hair was in place and her fashionable clothes fit perfectly. I tried to remember the last time I'd visited a beauty salon and thought of the four-year-old bra I was wearing, held together with a carefully placed safety pin. I felt very inadequate.

"Do men ask you out every time you walk out your door?" I asked Diane later that afternoon when she dropped me off at home.

"No," she said.

"Me neither. Do you think I should move to a different street?"

My friend looked at me searchingly. Looking at me like that, she reminded me a lot of my brother.

Waving good-bye, I got an idea. It came to me suddenly, like a craving for chocolate. I ran to the house and into the bedroom, stripped, and stood naked in front of the mirror. After the initial shock wore off, I peered at myself from every imaginable angle, trying to catch my best side. If I can accentuate my best angle, I'll be asked out all the time, too,I thought to myself. Finally, however, I gave up and did humanity a favor by putting my clothes back on.

Self-esteem depleted, I hung my head and was ready to fling myself onto the bed in despair when I saw my Bible next to my pillow. I opened it to Psalm 139. "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" is what the psalmist said in verse 14.

"I know God, but … ," I began to protest; then the words of 1 Samuel, chapter 16 came to mind. "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (v. 7).

I was thoughtful for a few moments. Then, hesitantly, I got up and peeked back in the mirror. All of me was still there, every lovin' inch. "Well, God," I said, still looking at my not-so-perfect, ample reflection, "Your Word says I'm special, so it must be so." The face smiling back at me winked knowingly. I said a short prayer of thanksgiving and did the best thing I could have possibly done for myself at that moment. I went shopping.

Leona's married now. She says she was just walking down the street. "You know how it is downtown, girl. You walk past a store and all the guys come out. They ask you out; they ask you to marry them. So one day … "

I've walked down that street a hundred times and no shop owner or clerk ever asked me anything, not even what time it was. It was hard, but I forced myself to face reality. They must've all been busy with customers when I went past. Obviously, they hadn't read 1 Samuel lately.

I asked my brother recently, "Darnell, am I pretty?"

He smiled. "You're a precious pearl," he said, "a beautiful, godly woman."

Guess we've both improved over the years.

Shea M. Gregory is a freelance writer living in California.