Attempting to Reflect on the Horrific Events of this Week

In the work place, on the team, in the neighborhood, and in church we love to work and live alongside people who share credit when things go right and who accept blame when things go wrong. 

Jesus is the perfect example.

He didn’t do any of the wrong in my life. I am 100% responsible for every bad decision I have ever made and every sin I have committed. But Jesus, because he loved me, didn’t let the blame fall only on me. Instead Jesus went to the cross to bear my burden. Jesus paid the price for the wrong I have done.

Unlike me, Jesus never did anything wrong in his life. Jesus is perfect holy righteousness. Instead of taking all the credit for himself, Jesus shared his righteousness with me. Now when God looks at me he no longer sees my sin. God now sees the righteousness of Christ, not because of what I have done. I don't deserve it. I didn't earn it. It’s only because of who Jesus is and what Jesus did. 

Jesus takes on our blame, paying the price and punishment himself, and he shares his perfect righteousness with us. 2 Corinthians 5:21

In our American culture this week we all experienced evil, hatred, murder…so much wrong. Unfortunately we quickly jumped to placing blame on the others around us. This horrific tragedy happened and we think it’s the fault of some other ideology. It’s the fault of some other way of thinking. Our hearts fill with anger, seeking vengeance for some other side. 

Let’s take a different approach. Please. Everyone knows a heinous and wicked wrong occurred. Let’s take a share of the blame ourselves. Let’s own the part of this that is our fault. Let’s assume that within our own approach to life and politics there is a flaw. Let’s assume that we aren’t perfect. 

Since we aren’t perfect, let’s ask the Holy Spirit to show us the hatred living within our own hearts. Expose it. Bring it from the darkness into the light. Pray. Surrender. Repent. 

My mentor always said, “quit looking for the right one and be the right one.” If I can accept part of this American problem as my own problem, then I can ask for help in working out what’s wrong within my heart peacefully, lovingly, and rightly. 

Let’s not place the blame on “the others.” Let’s own our part, and surrender our hearts to Jesus. 

Handwritten Recipe Cards

Forever resist the urge to type a recipe. You should always copy it in your handwriting, or even better ask the owner of the recipe to write out a copy for you. Then for the rest of time, when you need the recipe, it will be a wonderful handwritten treasure for you. 

I made some homemade ice cream tonight for Memorial Day Weekend. For years and years making homemade ice cream has been a family tradition for us on the big summer holidays: Memorial Day (beginning of summer), July 4th (middle of summer), and Labor Day (end of summer). There’s so much nostalgia in pouring the rock salt over the ice, turning on the motor, and waiting. I can still remember before there was a motor when my sisters and I had to take turns cranking the ice cream maker by hand. We all wanted a turn even though our arms would tire out so quickly. 

Making homemade ice cream makes me think of my father and mother sitting at the table in the kitchen at our Goldcup Court house where we lived from 1979 to 1992. I think of my mother’s cousin, Tim. Tim liked homemade peach ice cream. My Great Uncle Robert always had a soft serve ice cream maker at his pool. Aunt Shirley and Uncle Terry would put their ice cream maker in the garage to keep the noise outside of the house. 

One time my mother-in-law ran out of time to make some homemade ice cream so she bought Breyer’s Chocolate and put it in the stainless steel freezer can to make it look homemade. Believe it or not after one bite I knew it was impostor ice cream! 

In the summer of 1999, when Carin and I were dating, she invited me to come with her family to Uncle Howe’s Lake Burton house for the 4th of July fireworks. Of course Uncle Howe and Aunt Vicki made some homemade ice cream. Uncle Howe then waited in just the right spot for me to walk around the corner on the dock. When I turned that corner he dumped the leftover rock salt, ice, and below-freezing water all over me. I was stunned - and I will never forget it. 

All of these memories ran through my head tonight as I mixed together the ingredients for homemade ice cream. Even though I’ve made it about a hundred times before, I still read the recipe card over and over to make sure I did it just right. Our homemade ice cream recipe is written in Carin’s handwriting, with one note on the back in my handwriting (if you want chocolate just add a family size container of Hershey’s syrup before you start the motor). 

Carin copied our recipe for homemade ice cream from my mother’s recipe card. Carin’s copy now sits in the recipe box in our kitchen. Within that little box we have recipe cards written in both of our mother’s handwriting. There are recipe cards copied down by Aunt Diane, Aunt Marnie and many others. There’s even one in our daughter's childhood handwriting where she once copied one of her grandmother’s recipes that she wanted. 

I feel so loved thumbing through our recipe cards. There’s precious handwriting, precious memories, and really good food. 

Never type a recipe. Always copy it by hand, and then give it to someone you love.