Well, after all those serious posts about confessing sins, it’s time for something lighter. How about this video of dogs saying grace? I’m already working on teaching Quigley this…
So I did my word search of “confess” (yadah) in the Old Testament, and as I mentioned in the last post, I did not find what I expected to find. Even when I included “acknowledge” in my search, I still came up with only 20 verses in the entire Old Testament using these words.
Of those 20 verses, less than half (8) referred to confession of sin, and the rest related to making a public declaration of something or someone (eg, a man’s firstborn and heir).
(In contrast “know” is found in 534 verses, “knowledge” in 104, “wisdom” in 154, “truth” in 91 verses, “sins” 101…)
Since the usage is more or less evenly split between the verbal, public declaration of something, an heir for example, and the verbal declaration of sins, I don’t see it helping to support the notion that “confession of personal sins” is the meaning the Apostle John intended to communicate in his letter. If anything, I think it supports the other interpretation, ie, it’s a public declaration of having acknowledged oneself a sinner and believing in Christ.
So ultimately, I don’t think my word search of the OT contributed all that much to answering my question. In fact, it’s reinforced my thought that trying to use Old Testament Hebrew words to understand New Testament Greek words is probably not all that edifying, especially given the fact that as Church Age believers, we live in a new age, with a completely different operating system from what Old Testament did. In fact in some cases Paul had to coin entirely new words, because he lacked the appropriate terms to express what was being revealed to him.
Old Testament saints lived before Jesus came to die for us. For them everything was physical. The Jews saw God in the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud and in the appearances on Mt. Sinai. They had the physical temple where He lived behind with the veil in the Holy of Holies. They had the overt and distinct physical, specialized priesthood. They had physical sacrifices and physical cleansing rituals and had to physically confess their sins aloud to the priest to be transferred to the physical animals which they then either watched be slain, or slew themselves. And they had to keep doing that over and over, every year, at least, if not more, as they looked forward to the coming of their king.
Moreover, Heb 10 tells us that
“For the Law, since it has only a shadow of the good things to come and not the very form of things, can never, by the same sacrifices which [the priests] offer continually year by year, make perfect those who draw near. Otherwise, would they not have ceased to be offered, because the worshipers, having once been cleansed, would no longer have had consciousness of sins? But in those sacrifices there is a reminder of sins year by year.
For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.”*
The physical blood of bulls and goats could never take away sins. It merely covered them until such time as the One Perfect Sacrifice would arrive. Until that time the Jews had to keep confessing and being cleansed…
“Therefore, when He comes into the world, He says, “SACRIFICES AND OFFERINGS AND WHOLE BURNT OFFERINGS AND sacrifices FOR SIN YOU HAVE NOT DESIRED, NOR HAVE YOU TAKEN PLEASURE in them” (which are offered according to the Law), then He said, “BEHOLD, I HAVE COME TO DO YOUR WILL.” He takes away the first in order to establish the second.**
He takes away the first – the LAW — in order to establish the second – GRACE.
Christ is our sacrifice and He did it once for all. He doesn’t have to keep going back to the Cross. It’s done. And if He doesn’t have to keep going back to the Cross, why would we have to keep on confessing? Confession in the OT was tied to the sacrifice; the Jewish believer confessed his sin to the Priest who transferred it to the animal which was then slain to cover the sin.
“By this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.
Every priest stands daily ministering and offering time after time the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins; but He, having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, SAT DOWN AT THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD…
For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are sanctified.***
That is, US! Believers in the Church age. When we believed in Him, we acknowledged (confessed?) that all our sins were transferred to Him as the sacrificial lamb and paid for by His death, once and for all time on Golgotha…
AND THEIR SINS AND THEIR LAWLESS DEEDS I WILL REMEMBER NO MORE.” Now where there is forgiveness of these things, there is no longer any offering for sin. Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh,
and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.****
“Having” our hearts sprinkled clean, not “sprinkling our hearts clean” – He did it, not us. There is no talk here of confessing sins, only…
“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering [ELPIS – confident expectation], for He who promised is faithful*****
And look! Here’s another place that shows confession to be a public profession of faith in Christ, of salvation through Christ, NOT confession of sin.
In fact the preceding verses communicate very clearly that we don’t need to do anything related to the OT sacrifices any more, neither confess, nor cleanse ourselves, because we’ve already been forgiven and cleansed when we believed in Christ.
And in light of all this, when I look at 1 John 1:9 now …
If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness…”
…it’s become very clear that it has nothing to do with confessing personal sins and everything to do with the confession of salvation, the confession of being a sinner and believing in Christ.
* Hebrews 10:1 – 4
**Heb 10:5a; 10:8,9
Awhile back, the weekly WordPress Writing Challenge prompted bloggers to “tell us about a moment when your life was changed in a split second.”
That’s easy. The moment I believed in Jesus Christ.
It happened in August I think, in my twenty-first year, at the beginning of my senior year in college. During my time at the University, I worked in the drafting department of the Steward Observatory, doing hand drawn ink renderings of various charts and graphs that the astronomers needed to accompany their articles in various publications.
I usually had no idea what the charts and graphs meant, but I enjoyed the work and the paycheck. I shared a tiny office with a man old enough to be my father and who was in fact a grandfather.
He was a dyed-in-the-wool Introvert. I like to say I forced him to give me the Gospel.
That was back in the day when I was the rabid evolutionist, hardly surprising given my field of study which was a double major in Wildlife Biology and straight Biology. More than that, ever since the sixth grade I’d thought the theory of evolution was just the coolest thing imaginable. “Look at the way all these creatures line up! The progression is just obvious to anyone who wants to see!” (they never tell the sixth graders that the data simply does not support the theory, but that’s another matter and maybe another post).
In any case, I thought I knew all I needed to know. I was quite smug about it, as well. Not just about evolution, but about religion in general. I remember telling my mother several years earlier during one of our “religious” discussions (she was just getting into reincarnation) that I didn’t see how religious types could hold to the views they had because clearly no one was really bad enough to deserve going to hell (I lived a somewhat sheltered life) but at the same time, no one was good enough to go to heaven, either.
I had it all figured out, yes, indeed.
Well, that particular summer, when I worked in the Steward Observatory Drafting Department, I conceived the notion that I would reconcile the Bible’s account of “Creation” with evolution. Right off I discovered where the Bible went astray — it had God creating the plants before there was any sun! How could plants live without light from the sun. See? Ridiculous!
I spent a lot of time going on about all this with my associate, whose name was Dave. He bore with me patiently, mostly just asking questions — I don’t recall any arguing — but later he told me that we could talk about God and the Bible and creation and evolution and the church and so forth but the moment he mentioned Jesus Christ it was like the cookie jar lid slammed shut and there would be no more discussion.
Even so, I kept reading the Bible, using one of the study booklets he gave me. It made no sense to me. I would read the stuff, but it was just… inscrutable. Still, I felt as if there was something there, and kept with it. It was weird.
I also read The Exorcist and in the middle of reading it one warm windless day (we had no air conditioning or even swamp cooler so the windows were open) I came to a really creepy part involving demons and suddenly, in perfect timing to what I was reading, a cool wind rushed through the window. It totally creeped me out and I wondered if maybe there really were demons.
Then I read the biography of Maria Von Trapp, and was especially struck by her depiction of the power of the Holy Spirit at one of the church meetings she’d attended later in life, after she’d become born again. I thought it was cool, but didn’t really know what to make of it…
Then, about two weeks before my fateful appointment with Jesus I was confronted by a strange guy on the steps of the UA Student Union. He was friendly, if a little weird, had a clipboard, asked me if I was satisfied with my life and myself, and if not, would I like to take a personality to test to find out how I might improve things? He reminded me of those cartoon people with the spiraling circles in their eyes. Even so I thought the personality test might be fun.
He made an appointment for me to take my test in the Scientology building which was not far from where we were on a different day. It was a written multiple choice test that asked me the same basic questions repeatedly in slightly different guises.
In the end, the test showed me to be somewhat critical of other people. He asked me if I thought it a fair assessment, and I did. Then he asked me if I’d like to fix that, and I said, “And I suppose now you’re going to tell me Scientology will help me do that?” He seemed surprised by my question, but yes. That was exactly the deal. For a price his organization would make my life wonderful.
I wanted none of it and left. It was my first and thankfully last experience with Scientology.
I went back to peppering my friend Dave with my questions about religion and Christianity. Finally he told me he felt inadequate to answer all my questions, but he had a friend who could. Would I like to come over to his house after work to visit with him and his wife Daisy and their friend Orville?
For some reason I said yes.
When the day came, I remember clearly thinking as I locked the door to my house that “they think they’re going to convert me, but they’re wrong. There’s no way they can prove which view (evolution vs creation) is right or wrong.” I recall feeling quite smug and even amused.
Well, the meeting went down as advertised. Dave and Daisy opened their home, provided snacks and drinks and participated in the discussion, though primarily it was Orville and me. I don’t even recall evolution coming up. I do recall asking all sorts of questions (like what about the people who have never heard about Jesus?) and for every one Orville would send me to a scripture which I would dutifully read and have NO idea how it correlated with the question! But I would nod as if I did, and he would go on and show me another and another… and I was clueless.
I lived, first hand, the experience of the natural-minded man (in my case young woman) who “cannot understand the things of the Spirit for they are foolishness (incomprehensible gibberish) to him.” (I Co 2:16)
And then somehow they got around to the fact that I was a sinner — a fact I struggled with — I had no idea what sin even was and I saw myself as a goody two shoes — despite the earlier encounter with the Scientologist and his assessment of my judgmental mindset. I never once thought that might be a “sin.” Nevertheless I knew I wasn’t perfect, so … maybe I was a sinner… And as such, I needed a Savior who was Jesus Christ, the son of God who died for me and rose again. All I needed to do was believe it.
About that time Daisy, who had earlier left the room, returned with the news that she’d called her daughter and family and that all of them were praying for me.
And then… the weirdest thing. In an instant I saw Him in my mind. Just a sense. A picture, not anything I’d call a vision, but a mental image of Him coming up over a hill toward me. And suddenly I knew He was REAL and I wanted to know Him. I was willing to do whatever was necessary to accomplish that.
If they wanted me to pray the sinner’s prayer, I’d pray it. Which I did, admitting I was a sinner, even though I had no clue what it was. Believing that He was my savior, probably asking Him to come into my life (even though clearly He already had).
I went home a changed person. I prayed that same prayer two more times that night, because I wanted to be sure “it took”. And from then on, I couldn’t get enough of the Word. I went to all the church gatherings every week (except the door to door witnessing night… that was much too far out of my comfort zone at the time) I told my mother and my sister and my roommate about Jesus. My sister and my roommate also believed in Him and were baptized when I was (Dave and his friends attended a Baptist Church, so that’s the one I went to). My mother came to church a few times, but later grew angry and wondered what “that church” had given me to make me so weird.
I told my boyfriend of two or so years about my salvation and urged him to believe in Christ as well. He regarded me with a sad air of condescension and assured me it was a passing phase I would soon be over. No, it turned out that our relationship was a phase that would soon be over. Like that same night.
I went to a weekly Monday night Bible study with my roommate and not long after a new boyfriend (who later became my husband) which Orville taught for new believers. It included a memory verse program oriented around key doctrines of salvation, Jesus as God and 1 John 1:9. He also taught the college students class on Sunday Mornings using Lewis Sperry Chafer’s Major Bible Themes as a textbook. (I still have it in my library).
In addition to Monday evening and Sunday morning, we also attended Wednesday evening and Sunday evening. My roommate and I sang in the choir.
As for my dedication to the theory of evolution, it was thrown out faster than my old boyfriend. From then on the Word of God was my standard and even if I couldn’t explain just yet why evolution was wrong, I knew that it was, because the Bible said so.
I had one friend (another Biology major) write me specifically about this matter and that’s what I told her. She thought I was a flake, I’m sure. I know now why it is wrong, of course, and can explain its flaws at length (and have done so on this blog.)
I also believe that it’s not the theory that defends itself in its proponents’ eyes, it’s the attitude of the proponent in desiring an “explanation” for everything that doesn’t include God that powers their belief in it. I’ve read their statements purporting as much.
Anyway, that’s the day that changed my life literally forever.
“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved…” ~Acts 16:31
I am sort of a weather junkie and in the course of following the tornado outbreak in Oklahoma last Friday came across this video showing multi-vortices in the tornado. They form within minutes as you can see, come down, touch the ground, then dissipate. Watching it made me think of the fingers of God… how they can come down and touch something spot on… not random, but, as with all else under His wise and loving control.
The story that broke today about the three very experienced weather chasers who were killed on the same day and in the same area where this tornado was filmed, just reinforced the fact that none of us can ever have all the bases covered when it comes to knowing what’s going to happen. Two of the three men were renowned among the meteorological community, having appeared in Discovery Channel and National Geographic presentations on their work.
Tim Samaras worked out of Colorado and his first interest was research — getting information needed to figure out how tornadoes are formed and behaved. Colleagues described him as “a veteran researcher not a thrill seeker” and a stickler for safety above all else. Yet even he, after 30 years of tracking tornadoes, found himself caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently he and his team were heading east on a side road along I-40 following the El Reno tornado some ways to the south as it plowed eastward as well, following a straight track as it did so. Then suddenly it took a sharp turn northward to I-40 itself, then it jogged east again to follow the interstate. When that happens the tornado can strengthen in power and size and, as one colleague put it, “you find yourself part of the tornado” and there’s no way to avoid it.
Anyway, to see Funnels Drop from Cloud near El Reno click on the link below:
I’m sure most of you know the old adage, ‘How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. ” Well, my next step in my writing rehab program, as outlined in my Overcoming Writing Blocks book, was just that.
Having dealt with the distractions in my environment, I moved on last week to the writing project itself. First up was to break the task into “bite-sized units.” For a novel, that would be chapters or possibly “Parts,” though so far I have not been thinking of this book in terms of “Parts.” For now I took the average of the number of chapters in each of my six books — 42 — as the number of chapters in Sky.
I’ve already written six of them, which leaves 36. At a rate of 2 chapters per 3 weeks, with time out here and there for holidays and trips, I would be done with a first draft around May 1 of next year.
Whether that has any tie to reality or not, I have no idea. But it’s a start.
Next was to come up with a “Purpose Statement.” For fiction writing that would be one’s main story question for the tale. In working through developing this, many things came to light about the world I’m building and this plus the next step “research reading and taking notes” (which I take to also include work in developing the parameters of one’s make-believe world) sent me off for most of last week gathering all my scattered notes and ideas into folders with the intention of going through the collected material and deciding what I want to keep and what I want to toss.
In the process of all this I realized that I am no longer interested in the linear set-up of a single empire beneath my fictional planet’s surface with the heavenly city floating above as I had originally envisioned. There have to be various nations to carry out what I’m wanting to do, and in fact in the chapters I’ve already written there are already at least two other national entities mentioned. So I see that this concept was there all along, despite my initial plans.
I’ve been taking all my note cards and entering the notes on them into one of my many world building documents, or if I’ve decided not to use that material, simply throwing it away. It’s been very productive work. Not when it comes to chapters written, but as regards the fundamental shift the story is now taking. Once an optimum number of the world building questions have been answered, I’ll be able to turn my attention to the plot…
The fact that I’m making this fairly major change, in addition to much new material I’ve gathered from miscellaneous reading, news events and my own increasing understanding of some of the spiritual issues I was wanting to deal with, I’m beginning to see there might have been a reason for my stall over the last few months… years? … that goes beyond mere burn out, life distractions, or lack of self-discipline…
Sort of. I guess the virus isn’t active but something is happening in my eye — it’s been increasingly irritated — painful and this morning, very red. So I went to the eye doctor and am back to the eye drops again. This is just one among a series of minor ailments that have beset me in the last week or so. Hopefully now that I know that “dry eyes” is not the problem, and have begun some treatment that will help, I can get back to the computer for longer than half an hour again.
Well, this morning I decided that I am definitely suffering from a serious and major writing block, so I started researching that subject on the Internet. In the process I came across a 1991 video of John Cleese giving a talk about Creativity’s origin and how creativity is not a matter of talent or IQ but really a matter of how one thinks. And there are two modes of thinking that impact it: Closed and Open
It was exactly what I needed, because as soon as he began describing the Closed mode, I saw myself in his words:
This is the mode we’re in most of the time when we’re at work. WE have a feeling that there’s lots to be done and we have to get on with it if we’re going to get to it all. It’s an active, probably slightly anxious mode, a mode where we’re probably a little impatient, if only with ourselves. It has a little tension in it. Not much humor. It’s a mode in which we’re very purposeful and one in which we can get very stressed and even a bit manic, but NOT creative!
Lots to be done, have to get going, slightly anxious, impatient, stressed… oh yeah. Mostly in regards to everything else in my life, but also the writing itself, seeing as the story has been stalled in the same spot for several months at least.
Yes, I know I’ve had these stalls before, but this is definitely the worst and longest I’ve ever experienced. I’ve been thinking lately that I seem to have forgotten how to do it. But when I heard Cleese’s words, and recognized myself in them, I realized that it connected in a way to the Flylady stuff.
Not so much the daily routines… those work well… but the other stuff. The lists of all the things to do around the house and yard, the way of getting it all organized so you can be sure and get it all in. Except I haven’t gotten it all in, and have the lists but they serve only to condemn me for failing to get everything done.
If I determine I AM going to get it done, then I don’t write. It seems often that whatever I decide to do in the morning is the thing that gets done. By midday I seem to have run out of energy, whether to do the actual thing in question or to make myself decide to do it. In any event it doesn’t happen. Of course, I do have to walk the dog most afternoons and do Bible class, so it’s not like I have all that much time after lunch. Especially if I have doctor’s appointments or errands… or don’t get enough sleep the night before.
Anyway, back to the video and the other mode, the one that IS associated with creativity: the Open Mode:
(This) mode is relaxed, expansive, less purposeful. It’s the mode in which we’re probably more contemplative, more inclined to humor, which always accompanies a wider perspective and consequently more playful. It’s a mode in which curiosity for its own sake can operate. Because we’re not under pressure to get a specific thing done quickly, we can play. And that’s what allows oiur natural creativity to surface.
I’ve experienced the above, as well, just not recently. I’ve been too “You must get with the program” to be playing around, or allow myself to relax and think “unproductive” thoughts. I don’t have time for that. I simply have to decide what I’m going to do about this world… will it be the small, limited empire I started with, or the larger, multinational planet I’ve been thinking about for some time but am afraid will make for too big of a story?
I haven’t allowed myself to simply ponder the matter with an attitude of patience, but instead have demanded results and conclusions, almost from the moment I begin thinking about it.
Anyway, I found the entire video to be very informative and inspiring, so I’m linking to it in case any of my readers want to sample it as well. It’s about 30 minutes long. I listened (and took notes) in two sessions
Recently my pastor’s daughter sang this song at the end of service. I loved it, but missed some of the words so I looked up the lyrics and came across the music video below. I’ve since learned that this song, Blessings, written and performed by Laura Story, received the GMA Dove Award for Song of the Year in 2012. The video, uploaded by LoveOneAnother March 4, 2011, has been viewed by 5 million people.
Here are the lyrics. The video follows. ENJOY.
We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things
‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise
We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we have faith to believe
‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise
When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It’s not our home
‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy?
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?
Hi everyone! And a happy 2013 to you all!
Yes, I’m back. Not necessarily back from physical travels, though we did get over to Southern California to visit the kids and grand-daughter, as well as my 92-year-old stepmother. I am back from that, and also, apparently, from my recent and unexpected blogging silence.
I have no explanation, other than that I had neither motivation nor words with which to generate a blog post for almost a month now. I haven’t even kept up on my emails. In fact, I’ve done very little on the computer since last I posted, except for Bible Class.
Part of that was the shingles and the fact that it was hard to even look at the screen for a while. Plus I had a regimen of eye drops and pills to take there at first, and kept going back to the doctor for them to gauge my progress. This, added to Christmas preps, demolished my normal routine, which had been suffering anyway. I was also consciously trying to avoid the computer, not only to rest my eyes but in hopes of getting a handle on my addiction to reading blogs and news articles.
Pastor John spoke about this awhile back, how reading the things on the web — things invariably from the world — mess up your mental attitude and make it harder to go back to your work — in his case, studying the Word and preparing his lessons, in mine, working on the book. I had already noticed that effect on my own, but didn’t really give it the attention it deserved. I thought it was just me having no discipline as opposed to information and enticements from the world registering with my sin nature, which in turn agitated for “No More Struggling With that Lame Book! Who’s going to like it anyway? It’s not going to be any good, and you have no discipline…” or…. “You’re just not into it today. Tomorrow will be better. Why not take a break now and go do something else?” To which I answered “Okay” far too often.
Or… “But I really want to find out what happened/why he did it/more on this subject! I’ll work on the book later…”
On another day, in another lesson, he talked about how sometimes God will shut us down in the operation of our spiritual gift in order for us to realize that it’s His power that’s doing it, not ours. That really resonated as well, but I haven’t really been able to get my arms around it all enough to write about it in any way that makes sense.
A third concept that keeps floating through my awareness is the fact that all this with the blog… specifically the call to do a post 5 days a week, was really more than I could handle and actually write a book, too. Add to that the notion that since this was supposed to build my readership I should be trying to do posts that people would like, and keep track of the numbers and all that… and it only piled on more pressure. And, I see in retrospect, drained energy away from whatever it is in me that comes up with my stories.
Long ago I had determined that God was not calling me to be a marketer — He would do the marketing, and the promoting and publicizing, and my job was to concentrate on writing the book (which He would also do, but that was where I was to focus my attention, not the other stuff). He told me that in a very vivid and compelling way, and I immediately obeyed and stopped thinking about the marketing.
But the world is relentless in promoting its positions, and after ten years, I became infected with it again. Maybe I had grown enough, I thought arrogantly, that I could handle it now. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to at least try it out, see if it was what I was to do. After all, everyone else is doing it.
No. Not what I’m to do. All the things they suggest one do to build a readership distracts me from my calling. It takes away my time, changes my mental attitude and focus, really seems to mess me up when it comes to my primary calling, which is to write my novels. I learned that once, but as with so many things, forgot the lesson and went back to try it again.
If I’m honest, I have to admit I like the idea of me doing stuff to get folks to read my blog and books. Well, no, actually I don’t like it at all, at least not the actual doing of it. I just like the idea of having some control over it and that’s probably the main issue right there. That I’m going to control things, when God’s the one in control.
Anyway, I’m not going to be doing five posts a week, but 4, and that may not be all the time. I’m not going to be trolling about various strangers’ blogs to see if I might “like” them. I might like them, but I don’t have time to read them. I’m not going to be going out to comment on other folks’ blogs, like they tell me to, in hopes they’ll visit my blog and like it. I’m not going to be trolling about on the internet looking for good ideas for content that will bring in a lot of readers.
I’m going to go back to what this all started out as: me writing my book, posting thoughts that spring primarily out of that and my life and lessons and research. The book comes first. The blog second.
And if the world thinks that’s dumb, I’m okay with that. If I only have six readers, I’m okay with that, too. As our recent lessons on spiritual gifts have taught me, God is the one in charge of the results of my gift, not me.
“For consider your calling, brethren, that there were not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong, and the base things of the world and the despised (or unknown), God has chosen, the things that are not (ie, humble) that He might nullify the things that are (ie, proud), that no man should boast before God.” ~ 1 Co 1:26 – 29
Well, I’m sorry to say that my eye saga continues. Last evening before I went to bed I inspected my problem eye and discovered that for the first time there is a patch of pink now on the white below my iris. Well, that’s one of the symptoms that’s supposed to send you to the phone to call the ophthalmologist. So I told myself that if it wasn’t gone the next morning, I’d call.
Then, during the night, I woke up to find my eye running with some kind of discharge. It felt like I’d just put eye drops in but I hadn’t. I also had these mysterious bumps showing up on my forehead in a vertical line starting at the eyebrow of my affected eye. They didn’t hurt, weren’t red, but they were weird… Were they related? I was somewhat alarmed…
Discharge from the eye is another reason to call the doctors.
So the next morning (ie, this morning) I got the phone numbers for three eye clinics and set to calling. One didn’t open until 8, the second didn’t open until 8:30 but the third had someone who actually answered the phone. I told her my situation, but she had no openings with the ophthalmologists, only the optometrist at 10am. “An optometrist,” she said, “can do anything an ophthalmologist can do except surgery.” I grabbed it to hold as a last resort, but told her I was going to try to get in to see an ophthalmologist somewhere else first if possible.
A few minutes after 8am I called Eye Clinic #1 . Its answering machine told me that if I was calling during office hours I should leave a voice mail message and someone would return my call before the end of the day. Not what I had in mind, but I left a message. Then I waited a bit, tried again and got an actual person that time, but as soon as I said what I wanted she connected me to the voice mail thing again. 🙁
By then I could call Clinic #2. They had actual receptionists, but the receptionist could do nothing. She told me that she would have one of the doctor’s technicians call me sometime to find out the story on my eye, and that person would decide if I should see a doctor or tell me what to do.
Meanwhile, my hubby, who really thought I should see an ophthalmologist and not an optometrist, had done a bit of online research and come up with a list of places, one of which was Eye Clinic #4. I called them, gave the receptionist my spiel and midway through she said I could have a 3:30pm appt with one of their newbie doctors. (Well, she didn’t say “newbie,” I just looked her up afterward and discovered that she was). As the receptionist was taking my info, I heard her asking someone else if they were scheduling the 3:30 slot and moments later she asked me if I could come in at 4 instead of 3:30. Well, that would screw a lot of things up with my day, but okay. I wanted to see an ophthalmologist, and at least it was an appointment.
I then called Eye Clinic #3 back, and canceled my 10 o’clock appt with the optometrist.
Not long after that, the technician from Eye Clinic #2 called — while I was outside hanging up the laundry, of course. So I had to call him back. I was expecting another message left and a return call, but he came on the line immediately. After listening to my probably way-too-detailed recitation of what all had gone on with my eye and also the weird bumps on my forehead, he told me… ahem… that it sounded like dry eyes.
Again? That’s what I’d been told last week.
Apparently it’s “endemic” here in Southern Arizona this time of year, and he said lots of people are suffering from dry eyes. He himself had to use eye drops constantly throughout the day. Every one of my symptoms were consistent with dry eyes, he said. The pain and scratchiness, the pink area (a sign of irritation) and the tears that had suddenly run out of my eye in the night (also a sign of irritation). Nor did he think it an infection from my having contaminated the tip of the bottle of eyedrops once when trying to administer them. He recommended I just start using the drops as needed — all day long.
What he was more concerned about were the mysterious bumps on my forehead. He thought they were shingles.
He thought I should see my primary care ASAP. That I should cancel the 4pm ophthalmologist appt in favor of a primary care visit. “You have bigger fish to fry right now” he said when I asked if I should do just that. Then he went on about shingles and how they could appear one day and suddenly cover your whole forehead the next and hurt really bad and if you don’t deal with them right away… you could have them for a loooong time. Gulp.
Soooo. I called may PCP, talked to his nurse who said he was out of town today, and fully booked tomorrow. But she would talk to him when he called in that afternoon and get back to me.
And around 2 she did. She asked me if the bumps hurt. I said no. She told me that if they were shingles they would hurt. The doc doesn’t think they’re shingles, but something else.
Something else? Like what?
“Some sort of skin infection.”
So of course now my mind is going every which way: what sort of skin infection? Where would I have gotten it? What is it going to do? What will they treat it with? Will I be allergic to it? (I am allergic to three major antibiotics already)
But I have an appointment to see my PCP on Friday, now. So I’ll find out then. And once again I have to wait. The Lord loves to make me wait. Probably because I dislike it so much. I like things resolved. I want to know what’s going on and to take action. I don’t like to have to trust… Which is surely why He gives me so many opportunities to do so.
Needless to say, I didn’t get any writing done today.