The Good Portion

Once upon a time, people measured time by the rising and setting of the sun, the cycles of the moon, by the changing seasons, by genealogies, by birth and death. In those days, childbirth and childhood disease, war and plague routinely cut life short, and men imagined magnificent structures, drew up plans, and set to work building great cathedrals they knew full-well they would never live to see completed. Generations devoted themselves to building such architectural wonders. They built them in hope and labored in faith that generations they would never see would continue to worship God as they did. Many of these structures have stood firm, towering over centuries and generations. Today their pinnacles overlook a landscape of scurrying people - people measuring their time by minutes, seconds, and nanoseconds. In our time, speed is of the essence. Our heads down, our focus narrow, the wisdom of the ages eludes us. As we focus on maximizing our moments of pride and pleasure, the ...

I am not a great woman. I am damaged and scarred by a lifetime of sin. At the age of forty, I became convinced of the kindness of God and began to trust him. I became a Christian. That was over twelve years ago. Ten years ago, I married my husband, Paul. I entered this marriage determined to be a good wife. I studied and read books to teach me how. Based upon the books I read and a shallow understanding of the Bible, I worked up a hand-written list of rules I thought a good Christian wife should follow. It sounded very spiritual, and I was very proud of it! After we were engaged, I showed my list to Paul, expecting his approval. He told me to tear it up and throw it away! He didn't want that wife. That wife was nothing but a blank slate to write on. He wanted me, the real me, wounded, abandoned, and prone to depression. Me, the uptight woman who worried more about what others thought than what he did. But Paul saw more in me than my failings. He saw a friend whose wounds and...