Sep 15, 2011 | The Good Word
I was momentarily perpuzzled at a little happening in Acts 16 the other day. Timothy joined Paul and Silas, and Paul decided he’d like Timothy to come along with him on his next adventure for the Gospel. As an important bit of backstory, Timothy’s Mom was a Jewish woman who believed in Jesus, but his father was Greek, which meant he hadn’t been circumcised. Before they took off, Timothy was circumcised, as the Scripture puts it “because of the Jews who were in that region, for they all knew his father was Greek.”
What had me temporarily perpuzzled about that?
Well, just one chapter before, it’s recorded that the Apostles got together for a good wee chat, in those days known as a council, because there was a conflict over circumcision. Some people were preaching that you couldn’t be saved without being circumcised according to the custom of Moses, and new converts weren’t really sure what to believe. And I imagine having to be circumcised might be a hindrance to some of the men-folk believing.
At the council, Peter spoke up and pointed out that God had made it clear that the Gospel message was for Jew and Gentile (non-Jew) alike, that it’s through the grace of Jesus Christ that both Jew and Gentile would be saved, and that trying to hang more burdens on the necks of Gentile believers just wasn’t cool. So to speak.
Then Barnabas and Paul told some stories about all the incredible miracles and wonders God had done among the Gentiles through their work.
Eventually everyone agreed that it wasn’t necessary to put the burden of circumcision on the Gentiles who were turning to God, but rather to encourage them to abstain from eating food that had been dedicated to idols and from sexual immorality, among other things.
So they all agreed that that was a good plan and wrote a letter to the Gentile believers saying as much.
And that’s where I got momentarily perpuzzled — if everybody just agreed that it wasn’t necessary for Gentiles to be circumcised, then why did Paul circumcise Timothy?
The answer was right there in the text: “because of the Jews in that region, for they all knew his father was Greek.” {v.3}
It seems though Paul and Timothy knew they were free from the law, yet the love of Christ compelled them. Timothy was judged to be a good candidate for preaching the Gospel — perhaps he was well-learned or well-spoken, perhaps he was a passionate speaker or easily able to engage a crowd.
For whatever reason, Paul judged that Timothy would be able to do a great amount of good for the Gospel, so, as Matthew Henry puts it,
Paul circumcised Timothy not like the teachers of the law who imposed circumcision upon Gentile converts, but only to render his conversation and ministry passable.
For the sake of the Gospel, Timothy, like Paul, would become as a Jew to the Jews, that he might gain the Jews. They weren’t going according to the letter of the law, but rather according to the spirit of it, “a spirit of tenderness towards the Jews, and willingness to bring them off gradually from their prejudices.” (also Matthew Henry)
What might it mean if we lived this way? What if, though aware that we are free from the law, out of concern for those who don’t know the Lord yet, and perhaps for those who do, we started thinking about what might need to be circumcised from our own lives? Excessive spending? Certain entertainment choices? The way the we sometimes choose to speak to people or about people?
And how would the Lord lead us, if we were willing to listen more often to His leading, and less often to our own rules? What would the God who is looking for mercy and not sacrifice — more relationship and less religion say?
Being very literal, I can only imagine that Timothy’s decision to be circumcised for the sake of his ministry was not very comfortable. His love for others is a beautiful example of the kind of sacrificial love Jesus showed us how to live. More than a Jew to the Jews or a Greek to the Greeks, He is the God who became a human to the humans in the name of love.
When the moment passed, and I was un-perpuzzled, my heart was warmed and my face was smiling, considering the beautiful example this simple story gives of how we ought to love, how we ought to live. Are we willing to be uncomfortable for Jesus?
xCC
P.S. Enjoying Scotland even though it’s Blowing a Hoolie outside!
P.P.S. Bonus points and a clever badge for naming the movie quoted in the title.
Sep 14, 2011 | Guest Posts
I recently read a surprising statistic: The average supermodel weighs 28% less than the average woman.
As women, we often compare ourselves to the women on tv, in movies, and on the covers of magazines. But if we take the time to remember the photoshop magic used to make those eyes bigger and brighter and those thighs tighter, we might be a little less hard on ourselves.
We’re often tempted to compare our children with other people’s children…our homes with other folks’ homes…but if we don’t compare with everyone else, how do we tell if we measure up?

I’m over at Signposts today, talking about the temptation of comparing oneself with others, and how difficult it is to avoid as a parent.
Care to click over and share your thoughts?
We’re enjoying our last day in Scotland today, taking the train down south to London again tomorrow. And we’re NOT stopping at Sainsburys on the way there. In case you were wondering. Can you believe we’ll be in the Carolinas on Saturday afternoon? And our sweet little six month old will meet his G.C. and Gpa for the first time!
xCC
Sep 13, 2011 | Baby Photos
On Hero Hubs’ birthday, besides celebrating the Hubs, of course, we had another little celebration for a little guy who has come a long way.

We set up the pillow, the Hubs had the camera ready to shoot, the lighting was right and our six month old was smiling in no time.

How have six months gone by already?

It seems like this sweet boy is always smiling!

Hello, happy!

{We knew his name meant bright and shining…we didn’t know he’d take it so literally!}
After a few moments he requested permission to show off a new trick.

I sit! {With minimal assistance.}

And I sit and touch my toes! And make an adorable face.

And I sit and touch my toes and make an adorable face and smile and pose while touching my toes. Which rhymes.

You’re impressed right?
Thanks for six months of happy, Baby Blake!
xCC
Sep 12, 2011 | Scotland, Stories
Sorry for the delayed update from the road. By and by an explanation will be produced for this great pause in communication. Really, it all started not long after we last spoke on Thursday. Friday we got ourselves together to take the train up to Scotland. Besides consolidating ourselves to one suitcase for the week away, we also needed to pick up diapers and a quick lunch before the departure.
We found the diapers {but I should say nappies since we’re in the UK} and some snacks for the road {hello, pan au chocolat, I missed you} and the Hubs and I grabbed some chips {but I should say crisps since we’re in the UK}, and what have since been dubbed the chicken wraps of death. We won’t mention the name of the supermarket, but it starts with S and ends with ainsburys.
And all seemed right with the world.
After a quick lunch we were headed to the train to the tube to Kings Cross Station, to take the train up to Scotland.
And all seemed right with the world.
But as we made our way up the largest of the British Isles, as the light began to scatter across the green sheepy fields in the way that it only does in Scotland, and as the long hours of a Scottish summer day were drawing to a close, and we were nearing that sweet train station destination where I first arrived to settle in Edinburgh six years ago, suddenly
all seemed not right with the world.
And by the time the last train journey of the day brought us to our dear friends and hosts (life looked like this when we last were together)

they were offering us dinner and we were asking where the loo was.
And through the night, we got exceptionally well acquainted with the bathroom of their new home.
Hero Hubs seemed to experience a slightly more expedient recovery, and we managed together to muster the strength to make it to the wedding ceremony the next day.
There was a slight drizzle about as we made our way to the absolutely breathtaking church near Linlithgow Palace (gorgeous!) where the beautiful moment took place. I am SO glad I cowgirled up to be there. The bride looked beautiful and so joyful, the groom dashing and kilt-bedecked… love and joy in abundance. The music and readings were very well-chosen, and it was all just so special.
{The father of the bride and mother of the groom, and then father of the groom and mother of the bride, skipping down the aisle after the blessed event… awesome and priceless highlight.}
Very very very sadly, I had cowgirled up for as long as I could, and the Hubs, too, was pale and weathered, and we weren’t able to continue in the fantastical merriment. Meaning: we couldn’t enjoy the reception or the ceilidh, and that was a BIG bummer. My heart is still sore about it.
But the pledging of two loves to one another, in love and faith before God, that really is the highlight of the day (besides folk skipping down the aisle) and I am ever-so glad we were privileged witnesses of that special event.
{Congratulations, Grace and Gordon! We were so happy to witness you two tying the knot!}
In summation, the S to the ainsburys chicken wraps of death rained on the wedding day for us a little, and we were still a little worse for wear on Sunday, but we enjoyed being at church {a story for another day} and catching up with friends throughout the afternoon and evening, and were afterwards anxious to return to the beds from whence we’d risen.
And now to set about the business of enjoying the rest of our time in Bonnie (rainy) Scotland…
xCC
Sep 9, 2011 | Stories
There was a birthday. There was cake. There was a happy Bear. There were prezzies. And there were pictures.
It started with a little excitement about some balloons hanging above the table at breakfast.

Followed closely by the practice and perfecting of an important new skill.

After a brush of the teeth, a comb of the hair, and a special trip to the movies to see Jock of the Bushveld (a birthday gift that doesn’t have to be packed in a suitcase) we were back in time to begin opening a few little prezzies. (Which will be packed in a suitcase.)

Who needs wrapping paper when you’ve got the latest Pick n Pay circular at your disposal? (Or PeeTeePay, as the Bear calls it.)

Lightning McQueen is a hit! Success!

The Cowgirl from Toy Story …. mmmm…. not so much.
The Tank doesn’t care whose birthday it is. He’s HAPPY!

Time to try out the new car with Goo-Goo!*

*Excuse the high-waters. This boy has grown. Most of the trousers that are the right length are in boxes awaiting their turn to get on a ship and get sent to America. (Yes, they’re still on the South African side of the pond. We don’t know when they will depart. If I go to church with you and you see me wearing the same thing every Sunday, now you’ll know why.)
Then came a special surprise, complements of a multi-talented Gammy:

Would you like to bask in the awesomeness of this perfect for a three-year-old birthday cake, complete with working cars and toy helicopters and airplanes?
Savour the flavour. Or if you’re American, savor the flavor.

It was met with delighted three year old approval.

Joy!

Nobody’s giving me cake, but I’m still happy!

Lightning McQueen was happy to have found a good home.

We attempted a family photo with our freshly-turned-three-year-old.

And another with a baby brother…

All in all, I’d say the day was a success!

{Still happy, no matter what!}
We’re on the train from London to Edinburgh today!
xCC