Never before have I posted a pic of a guy in a speedo and encouraged you to focus on his derriere, but this shot of Tom Daly, British Olympian, is just too funny to ignore:
In case you can't quite make it out, his rump says "British Gas".
Did they decide to sponsor Tom just so they could laugh about their logo placement?
The flame is the winning touch. Heh heh heh...
Also, you may have already seen this. If not then please take three minutes to enjoy it. It's quite funny, whether you relish politics or are simply annoyed by them.
Lately, I've been learning the lesson that I have very little power. I know that's contrary to what the world is constantly trying to pep us up with.
Empowerment! You can do ANYTHING! Wish upon a star, people!
I won't go so far as to call these lies because I think the people spouting them probably believe them and have good intentions, but alas, I fear they are misguided.
I mean, think about it...what do I truly have power over?
*insert thoughtful whistle*
Me.
Little ole me.
Yep. That's about it.
I can choose to make myself be kind, choose to make myself seek wisdom, choose to make myself exercise, and choose to make myself think before I act.
But even in all of that, I don't have total control.
If I get some horrible disease, it's not likely to be my fault because I live a very healthy lifestyle. Still, I can't make sure it doesn't happen. No matter how vigilant of a driver I am, I could still accidentally change lanes right under the carriage of a semi truck on the freeway. That certainly wouldn't be on purpose.
Even in rudimentary ways, I don't have complete control over myself.
Several months ago (on my birthday, in fact) I was under a lot of stress from different sources, but there was one in particular that was infuriating me. I knew what was best for a situation (I don't say that sarcastically because I really DID know what was best and important in that situation), but the only person who had any power to change anything about it was unwilling. It was to their detriment and the solution was so simple, yet they refused. My frustration with them and anger with my own impotence was so great that I kinda, sorta, most definitely... flipped out.
I was in the shower (home alone, thank God) and I started screaming...and screaming...and screaming.
Stupid?
Yes.
Embarrassing?
Mm hmm. (Even though no one was around to witness it.)
Stress relieving?
Oh, yeah.
Would I recommend it?
Not as a regular part of one's routine.
I didn't want to do it, but just like the build up of steam in a kettle will make it scream, so (occasionally) will a build up of frustration and stress in me.
I had been praying for months about that situation, asking God what my role was to fix it. Obviously, I didn't get an answer that was as effective as I wanted and the result was a soapy, dripping, enraged me, screeching my lungs out in an echoing, slippery, closet-sized area.
I was disappointed. Ear piercingly so.
You see, I had an agenda for Jesus. I wanted Him to show me how I could change another person's will. I wanted for me and Him to be a tag team of sorts and dually show this person the error of their ways so that their own life would be improved for THEIR sake. (I wasn't even being selfish!)
That didn't happen.
After my squeaky clean shriek fest, I realized that something needed to change, not in the other person because that clearly wasn't happening, but something in me. I needed to think differently if I was going to carry on, if I was going to be healthy in mind and vocal chords.
I acknowledged that I'd been trying to do something which I was powerless to do and I'd expected God to do something He never promised to do. God will not violate the free wills which He has granted us, not yours, not mine and not *insert name of person presently frustrating you here*'s.
The main point of Jesus's ministry was to save us from sin...our own personal sin, not the sins of others. Neither did He ever make any promises that His incarnation, death and resurrection would ensure my good relationships with friends and family members, nor my body's good health nor the realization of my career aspirations, etc.
When we think He has promised us those things, we are wrong and that's where we get disappointed.
That's what some of Jesus's disciples wanted. I can just hear them after Christ delivered His difficult teaching in John 6:53-58.
"What's all this about eating His flesh and living forever? I came for the snacks and good times, not this bizarre mumbo jumbo. I'm out." (This is my very loose paraphrase of John 6:60 & 66.)
SoisJesus enough?
It depends on what you want Him for.
To help you live a somewhat dignified and wise life in the midst of all the poo that cosmic apes sling your way?
Yes; He is enough for that.
Is He enough to make all of your wildest dreams (and some of your mundane dreams) come true?
He certainly hasn't promised to be.
You may have to vote for Pedro for that:
Hmmm...he is quite the orator, but somehow I doubt he'd deliver....
I want to do something well, increase my skill level in something I like doing.
Most of the activities I enjoy aren't so black and white.
When I write a poem, it might be delightful in the opinion of one person, but not worth finishing in the minds of a thousand others. Same goes for a meal I spend time preparing or a song I sing.
Not so with typing. You either pressed the right keys at the right time or you didn't. As you practice, you are likely to improve, and there's a satisfaction you feel when you see that occurring. Any time spent practicing is not wasted--assuming you're not doing it to avoid a more pressing task like making sure your bills are paid on time or taking out the trash that is stinking up your kitchen.
I hate wasting time. That doesn't mean that I don't relish doing things that aren't incredibly valuable. As long as I'm enjoying myself (and it's moral :) then I can feel good about spending time doing all sorts of things. However, when I pour myself into something and have hopes of certain results which don't pan out, it's very painful.
That's why I have a half written novel rotting deep within my computer.
I've spent countless hours pouring myself into it, but I got to the point where I realized I'd be miserable if it was rejected endlessly by publishing house after publishing house. To know I had spent so much time investing myself in something when I could have spent all that time helping people or honing a useful skill would drive me crazy.
I've considered paying for a writing course in which a published author would take my hand and walk me through the finishing of my novel, but then I think I'd be even more crushed if it didn't find an audience.
I guess that, for me, the joy of writing isn't enough. Perhaps I'm just too practical for that. Maybe that's bad. Maybe it's not.
I want to know my efforts are accomplishing something more than just filling up a page that a few people will politely look at.
And so I continue visiting www.typeonline.co.uk and smile as I witness my scores improve.
