Time of my Life…

I’ve been reading through a book about the names of God in the Bible for a couple months now. The book should have been done in one month, but, for possibly the first time in my life, I’m not just reading through this devotional book to complete it. I’m actually reading through it to learn about my God.

Last week, I was attempting to understand – and, please note, I’m chuckling to myself as I write that – Adonai. As I was reading through the chapter on that description of God, I was growling to myself about how it was poorly written. Why on earth would the writer throw Adon into the chapter without explaining the difference between Adon and Adonai? I don’t really understand what this verse has to do with this name…and so on.

Then I quit growling with one more thought: Maybe I’m having trouble understanding the qualities and nature of God we can know through this name because I have not yet had to call on God using this name.

When I first originally started this study several years ago before getting distracted and feeling the need to begin it anew, El Roi – the God Who Sees – was the name that jumped out at me. That is the name that I have used quite often in my personal conversations with God when I don’t understand what’s happening in my life, in the world, in my family, etc. I’ve called on the God Who Sees, a quality first made known in the life and account of Hagar.

Most everyone who has grown up in church or attended a Christian school for any number of years has likely heard of the Jefferson Bible. Thomas Jefferson reportedly butchered his Bible, cutting out verses or passages that he did not like or with which he did not agree. I am by NO means advocating such actions. When you choose to place your faith and hope in the Holy God, you don’t get to pick and choose which words of God apply to you. They all do; every word has a truth, a lesson, a challenge, a command by which you must live.

However. Just like my daddy has different ways of communicating, disciplining, teaching myself and my siblings, I can’t help but think that God started that method. Make no mistake: when God says via inspiration of the writers that something is wrong, He means it’s wrong for everybody. There should not be any debate or question about that. But most people have a verse they may call their “life verse” or just their favorite, a verse that challenges or encourages them, a verse that seems to speak to them more than others. Mine is Proverbs 24:10 followed by Ephesians 4:1. My favorite book of the Bible is the book of Proverbs.

Listening to a podcast of my favorite pastor to whom I listen, he mentions that growing up, he would much rather read through the book of Revelation than the book of Proverbs. I was the exact opposite. I still dislike reading through Revelation. Love the book of Proverbs. I read through that book and am challenged with how I should be living, behaving.

Going back to the study on the names of God. For whatever reason, El Roi and El Shaddai (essentially, the Provider or the God Who Provides) are two of the names of God which I use when I call upon Him for anything, even just regular conversation. I have no problem or struggle recognizing Him as Adonai, Lord or Master. I have not had any problem standing strong when more or less telling a former employer, “no, I serve and obey God; I’m not doing this” when they wanted me to follow their (unwritten) policies that clearly compromised what we as Christians have been instructed to do regardless of how major or minor it might appear. I just struggle with need or occasion to call on Him with that name.

I call my dad “daddy” whereas my brother and sister use “dad.” My brother occasionally calls him “pops” just like he called his dad at different times.┬áMaybe, just as everyone is challenged differently or is taught differently by different passages of Scripture, everyone goes to their heavenly Father with a different name based on where they are in their spiritual life. It makes sense, to me at least.

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Forgotten History

February in the United States is Black History Month. I do not care either way about if it’s fair or needed or whatever. However. I do have a MAJOR pet peeve about the month though: Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, apparently Oprah, and Rosa Parks are the only famous Americans of African descent who are discussed and quoted!

Harriet Tubman used to be a big name during this month, but her name is slowly falling out of conversation as time passes.

A co-worker of mine reminds us daily that we should be celebrating all this month. The leaders of the workplace have been humoring him with our morning, motivational quote (whole different post I could write on that) being from MLK and Booker T. Washington. This co-worker was going on about how we all could stand to study these greats a bit more and how America would not be the same without them.

Guess whose favorite genres of books have always been historical fiction and non-fiction? That is correct. Yours truly. I decided to give him daily quizzes.

The first: Who was Phyllis Wheatley? Nobody knew. The Answer? She was a brilliant African woman who was stolen from her people and sold into slavery before she turned ten years old. She was sold in the British colonies of North America where her “family” recognized her intelligence and gave her an education which emphasized literature and history far above even what the daughters of most colonists were given. She was a poet. Unfortunately, with the dominance of the slavery in the colonies at that time, her work was not overly welcome. Her family took her to England where she and her work was well-received clearing the path for her to return to success in the colonies, which began to fight for their freedom from Britain. She was freed and continued to write and be close to the family who encouraged this African girl who chose to embrace her circumstances and her new country, the United States of America, until she married another free-man who unfortunately ruined her life and led to her death and the death of their children. Nobody talks about her anymore.

Next I asked about Crispus Attucks. Nobody knew. The first death in the War for Independence of the colonies, of the United States, and nobody remembers him. Nobody remembers that the first death in the Revolutionary War was actually a free-man (granted, that was because he was a runaway slave) with good business sense and worth ethic. MLK praised him for his role in American history, in the founding and fight for America’s freedom.

I don’t have a problem with people remembering and recognizing the importance of MLK and the others mentioned at the beginning of this post because they are more recent. There are still people who remember being a part of their influence on current events. However, don’t completely disregard or discard the importance of those who came before any of us or any of our great-grandparents were alive. Those are the people who paved the way for the recent figures. There were four other men, white men, killed with Crispus Attucks. They were all buried together. The British soldiers who killed the men were taken to trial for the deaths of all five men. The final straw that led to the Revolution, the birth of America started with the death of a black man who died alongside his white, brother sailors. How is that fact so forgotten?

Americans have forgotten their history. It is time to learn again and remember.