Fear and Ignorance

Silence
Like music to my ears echoing through the walls
Peace
Filling every corner of my soul
Window
Revealing the climate of the moment
God
Filling me with His love, patience, mercy and grace
Facebook
Distracting me with witty posts and responses
Priorities
Out of whack occasionally
House
Pigsty at best
Mornings
Starting the day with a smile and song

Yes, that's my pathetic attempt at poetry. I'm sure there is some type of form I'm supposed to follow, but I've read plenty of poetry that follows zilch for form so, here ya go.

In fact, allow me to go off topic for a moment. When I was in college we had the distinct honor of meeting a poet. I'll refrain from giving too much information about the man, because I wouldn't want to offend anyone. My literature professor was so pumped with excitement to have this man come to campus. He came from another area of the US and was here specifically for us, this poetry class. He was also doing some readings on campus but we were the ones that were blessed to sit at his feet and learn from his bountiful knowledge of artsy and descriptive words and phrases.

We were actually in chairs, which turned out to be a hindrance seeing as I almost fell out of mine.

It was obvious our professor was enamored. She hung on every word. She was bubbly, energetic and a happy person to be around in most circumstances as it was, but now...NOW she could barely keep her feet on the ground.

We sat in a circle at her home and said poet read us some of his poetry. I will say this, there is nothing quite like having the author read their work to you. Words come to life and the text can take on a completely different meaning when emotion is in the places intended. That was a learning experience. I learned a life lesson sitting in her living room that day. I learned the written word can mean so many different things and unless you hear the words spoken from the author, don't assume you understand their feelings about a topic. We tend to insert our own emotions when reading and that can be detrimental.

So, he read. And read. And read. And read. At first I was caught up in the moment of having this well known figure reading his poetry to us, but it didn't take long for my mind to wander. Soon, I had zero idea what he was saying and I was thinking about many other important things, like, "I wonder what Curt and I will do tonight. Probably go to the Worm Ranch", you know...important stuff to a college student.

Then the professor changed gears on us and asked the poet to read a particular poem and for us to give our thoughts on the piece. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

My brain was already on overload and there was NO WAY I was going to get this right. I didn't think the way these English majors thought. My brain didn't go down abstract tunnels. If he wrote about the sun, then he was talking about THE SUN, not some heavenly guidance from some unknown spirit world into the deserted realm of our imagination!

I calmed my self with the assurance that there were 15 of us sitting there. 15 people she could choose to "interpret" the deeper meaning. I relaxed and he read.

He told a beautiful story of a day spent with his young grandchild, climbing rocks and boulders and of a sunset, with beautiful descriptive words. I was able to picture each "scene" in my head and loved the picture it presented of the time he spent allowing his young grandson to explore the region of the US they live in. It was peaceful and left me content and happy.

I opened my eyes to see people crying. My classmates had stricken looks on their faces and they. were. CRYING! My professor had to get up and get a Kleenex. She was a blubbering mess. The poet looked pretty proud of the response he got and all I could think is, "WHAT DID YOU MISS, TERESA!!!!!!!??????"

I am in full panic. FULL PANIC I tell you! And, yep, you guessed it, she called on me.

You may not believe this, but I actually got an A in this class. I don't know how. To this day I am still dumbfounded over this phenomenon. My answer was wrong, of course. But sitting here years later, in my big comfy chair, I'm not so sure I *was* actually incorrect. I think I just had a different perspective.

I saw the poem as a beautiful story of life. The beginning and the temporary end. Back then I was still under this mistaken belief that all people secretly believed what I did about Jesus and God, so in my immature brain everyone was on the threshold of heavenly glory.

This day was a wake up call. No, not everyone believed that death here on earth is only a temporary "end". My classmates, and my professor, were in mourning over the loss of youth for this grandfather. They saw death on the horizon and were broken over it. They were sobbing. When I say they were sobbing, I don't mean, boohoo here is a tear, I mean they were consoling each other. For them, death was the end of anything they would ever know and this poem brought that out in each one of their hearts, souls and minds.

I was called on because I wasn't crying, WHY?

Chalk this one up to a missed opportunity to share the gospel. In college I was not the person I am today and I let the moment pass by without a mention of the hope I have because of Jesus Christ. For that matter, I'm not sure I could have articulated what that hope is. I didn't have the knowledge, wisdom or discernment to vocalize the hope of the gospel.

Shame on me.

So today, as I sit here in my chair, looking out the window, I am reminded of the many lost opportunities I have had through the years. As I sit here in my chair, I look back on the commitment I made a few years ago to never again be ignorant about something I proclaimed was worthy of my entire life's devotion.

Today I sit here, with my Kindle fired up, my Bible at the ready, to learn more about this God I have given my life to. I sit here, some days literally on the edge of my seat, waiting to "hear" what He wants for me. Some days, I kneel here in repentance. Some days I lay here in brokenness wrapped in His love. Some days I don't feel Him near, but it doesn't mean He isn't.

I missed a huge opportunity that day to say, I know sin has separated us from God. I know He finds my sin detestable, but He made a way for me to be in His presence. He sent Jesus, to be the sacrifice that washed those sins away. I believe that. I made Jesus Christ my Lord and I am a new person. God killed off the person I used to be and now, I follow Him. I am redeemed. I was bought. I am a slave. I'm ok with that because it is no longer me that is alive, it is Christ that lives in me and one day, I'll get to go to my real home. In the meantime, I will go through this temporary home and hopefully tell as many people as I can about this hope that I have. Some will believe what I share and some won't, but I know that it isn't me they are rejecting, it is God and that is something they will be able to talk to Him about one day because I believe what the Bible says. Every word. I believe we will all stand in judgement one day and I know the blood of Jesus covers me. Praise God, I have been redeemed.

I have had to ask forgiveness for those missed opportunities; for those times I didn't have an answer because I knew so very little about this God I claimed to follow.

Followers of Christ, don't make that same mistake. Get to know Him. Get in a Bible study group, get into the word, get a mentor, go to church REGULARLY and stop missing opportunities out of fear and ignorance.

Learn about this God you claim to follow.