Monthly Archives: March 2010

Illogical Love (the best kind)

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I’m really glad I’m not smarter. I’m grateful that, for the sake of my soul, it takes little physical evidence, tangible proof, or mathematical equation to make Christ and His love real to me. I’m glad I’m a feeler and not a thinker (according to Meyers and Briggs).  

Because here’s the thing– I’m pretty stubborn. I get defensive easily.  I have a quick wit, sure, but I have a quicker and more prickly tongue.  I tend to exaggerate too.  I can be dramatic.  And what if I needed math or science or reason and logic, or really profound and complicated theology to break down my walls in order to believe God? I tremble for fear that it wouldn’t come because I know myself well enough to know how much I hate being proven wrong. I hate feeling as though I have failed.  There is little I consider a “learning experience.” Instead in whatever way I have not measured up, I count myself inadequate.

Fleshly response looks like this– RUN AWAY.  Hide.  Get… Out… Of… The… Way. Bow out. Try something else.

Biblical parallel– the Israelites. God’s chosen elite. Set apart. Holy because He called them so. Rescued out of slavery. Delivered out of the desert wandering.  Given a promised land and hope of a promised blessing.  And still they were unfaithful. They saw His hand do miraculous things. They felt the presence of His majesty in peaceful clouds of shade and mighty pillars of fire that guarded them by day and guided them by night. They were endlessly pursued and romanced by a King.

One word- love. And lots of it.

I’m participating in a Bible Study right now that is delving into and dissecting the book of Isaiah.  Two things have been stirred up in me as of late concerning what we have read and studied: (1) God’s people are endlessly frustrating. They have every reason not to wonder, worry, or doubt God’s goodness to them, and yet their eyes and hearts wander; (2) God’s love, grace, mercy and patience are never exhausted. They are unwavering. He never becomes undone. He doesn’t boil over.

What an illogical thing– to love something that loves you back only in words and not in action.  How perplexing to continue to seek out and lavish love on someone who entertains your affections for a brief moment until they see something more alluring, no matter how deceptive, and suddenly they flee.

One word for such behavior– selfishness

Webster defines selfishness as “devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one’s own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.” 

I would dare say that selfishness is the exact opposite, an utter and complete contradiction to love.  And if God is love, then our tendency towards selfishness is a tendency away from God.  Thus, we must choose God, we must choose to love Him back and so love others. 

But choosing to love someone doesn’t sound like love, right?  It sounds like obligation.

That’s what I thought too… til I read the Bible. I will be the first to admit that I am a hopeless romantic. I love love.  But what I am discovering, and I hope that you dear reader can relate to, is that there are times in which you will not always feel love.  But where I think true, genuine, divinely inspired love comes into play, is through our actions of love towards others, and thus towards the Lord.

I kind of feel as though I am rambling with little direction, so I will get to the point– Jesus chose to die in the name of love.

He loves us.  God loves us.  But we have done nothing to create, stir, or encourage such love.  We have not loved Him back, at least not to the extent that He first loved us.  Instead, we have run around on Him.  Truly.  We, none of us, can claim absolute faithfulness to the Lord.  But He has known no other.

How has He loved us?  He selflessly and willingly chose to give His life for us. To stand in the gap of our sin and His holiness.  The debt we could not pay He charged to Himself.  We, like guilty prisoners with a life sentence, were bailed out.  Not by a monetary pay-off either, for justice must be served justly.  Rather, He died for us… because of us.  Had we never failed, death would never be needed.  But because of the sin of selfishness, He intervened. 

And, if I may be so bold, I would dare say He did not intervene for our sake.  I think, maybe, He died in our place for His name’s sake.  For the sake of His holiness, His grace, His mercy, His justice, but primarily, for the glory and praise of  His love.

We were, at the very start, created in love and for love.  While He breathed everything else into existence, He crafted us with His own hands. He made us in His image and His image is lovely and good.  But when we  muddied it up, when we strayed, He graciously planned for the redemption of His bride, because in redeeming us when we deserve no such redemption, He shows the magnitude of His love and the glory of His name.  And the only proper response to such an act, to so much underserved and unwarranted love, is worship. 

As we approach the day of His resurrection, the day that love conquered sin and death and freed us to receive His life and love, may remember with revived and purified clarity that it was love that saved us.  It is love that surrounds us now as we seek to be like Him to know Him, and it is love that shows us who He is and who we are in the light of His glorious grace.

Let’s Play a Game: Level 2

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Alright y’all, the general consensus of the last design/theme/appearance was that it wasn’t bright enough, “loud” enough, too calm, and a little boring.  Dear Brandon said that it wasn’t “Mere enough.” 

So here we are, another option and another opportunity to tell me yay or nay. 

And for those of you keeping score, Mr. Ric Sieben leads the scoreboard with a whopping 15 comments! But the game ain’t over y’all, so let me know what you think, how you feel, and what you like best.

Also, I need ideas for the prize that will be awarded to the person with the most comments.

Spiritual Insight from the Gym Parking Lot

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My Saturday morning rituals have become one of the sweetest and most treasured parts of my week.  I get up whenever, sit in bed with coffee, and stare out my window.  Then, at the appropriate time, I put on spandex and go to a yoga class. 

It sounds simple and overrated perhaps. But I must say, the very simplicity that would seem to you perhaps boring, is the very simplicity that I crave. Quiet, uninterrupted stillness.  A peaceful day when the remaining 6 seem to be anything but. 

People often ask me what I do on the weekend, specifically Saturday.  “Nothing,” I say with a slight smirk. “I make no plans. ..  I take the day to be by myself should nothing come up, or be readily available for any sudden bout of spoteneighty.” They’re always a little surprised too because if you really knew me, met me in the flesh, you would know that I truly love people, fellowship, community, conversation, and everything else that those entail.

But Saturdays are the days that I take to sit and listen and pray and think and not think. 

Soooo… long introduction aside, as I arrived at the gym I started slowly lurking through the parking lot trying to find the closest spot possible. Ironic, isn’t it? Going to the gym for exercise but afraid to walk too far?  That’s not the spiritual insight I discovered. 

As I turned up an aisle of cars, I came to a quick realization that I would not be able to get up the entire row because no one parked in actual, outlined parking spaces.  The snow that I had fallen the night before had hidden the necessary markers that helped to guide drivers on where to put their cars.

So without structure, with no outline to follow, people made up the most random,  illogical, and limiting parking spaces that I had ever seen.  No rhyme, no reason, and no opportunity to fit in or get through.  It was really more dangerous than anything else, as I tried to squeeze by tale-ends that were not aligned with their front-ends. 

Then it hit me– this sounds like some churches I know.  This looks like some Christians I know.  Before I go any further, please understand that I am not declaring this on either (a) all churches or (b) all people.  Rather, what I am saying is simply this: we, Christians, are all in agreement enough to get to the same place- the church.  We all agree on what we do when we get there- worship.  But where lines become skewed or misconstrued is in what it looks like to accomplish this. 

Do we read the King James or the NIV?

Do we sing hymns or something by Chris Tomlin?

Do we preach topically or exegetically? 

Do we preach pre-trib, mid-trib, or post-trib rapture?

My question– Are you preaching the Gospel? Are you telling the truth? Are you presenting Jesus?

If so, then truth brings light to everything else.

An hour later, I walked out of yoga wondering why the men in class were better than me.

I'm actually glad I can't do this.

Fleeting thoughts by Meredith Dunn.

Let’s Play a Game

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The name of the game is “Help-Meredith-Make-a-Decision-Because-She-Sucks-At-It.”

I’ve decided the blog here needs a little make-over.  A little nip-tuck if you will.  Lipo around the mid-section, tightening up around face, and maybe a Botox injection or two to make her look real nice and purdy. She just needs a little oomph.

Here’s how to play– every few days I’ll be updating the look, changing the theme, messing with colors, and playing around with the placement of widgets and such. 

All you have to do, dear reader, is grace me with some feedback, opinions, thoughts, and recommendations. 

And then you win. Prizes will be awarded based on most comments. 

The trophy is the prize, not Mr. Federer. I wish.

So let’s start!  This design is funky-fresh as of … *counting* about 37 seconds ago.

Ready? GAME ON!

Advocating for Marriage

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I don’t know that I have ever “dedicated” a blog to a certain group of people, but there’s a first time for everything.  This blog is dedicated to all of you are married. If you are single, I’d love to know your thoughts and opinions of what is about to follow.

I have an incredible circle of girlfriends whom I “do life” with here in Colorado. We’re college grads, working professionals, self-declared hysterical, lovers of Jesus… and super single.  We range from mid to late twenties and have all been in our fair share of weddings as bridesmaids.  Here’s the catch– we’re all a little scared to get married.

Why? Well it’s surprisingly simple: married folk that we know, both young and old, often leave out the “pros” of this God-ordained institution, and instead dwell on the “cons.” 

“It’s a four letter word– w-o-r-k.”  “It’s not easy and it’s not always fun but your committed so you have to persevere through it.”  “There are so many things you can do when you are single that you can not when you are married. Go out while you still can! Live it up! Travel! Don’t rush it… trust me, forever is a long time.”

All reasons that would make a single man or woman think twice about entering into such a dreary and burdensome relationship, if you ask me. To be honest, these testimonies are all turn-offs to what, for so many us, we were made for.  My friends and I talk frequently about how  painfully aware we are (more so the older we get) of our intrinsic desire to be wives; to be help-mates to husbands that encourage, protect and lead us during our time on this side of heaven.

Is it not an incredibly romantic idea? Is it not lovely? Good? Pure? Holy? Honorable? YES.

What’s more, if I may so bold, it is a reflection of Christ’s relationship with His own bride, the Church. Us. To be married, if Christ be paramount in the life of the man and woman, is to know, understand, and see God in a new, clearer light of love, sacrifice, beauty, and intimacy.

Granted, I know (not from personal experience) that marriage will not look like, feel like, or sound like that on a daily basis. And that’s fine. That’s life. It leaves room for grace, forgiveness, patience, and a slew of other fruits of the Holy Spirit that resonate with us to draw us closer to the Father, and to your spouse. Right?

I mean, am I taking crazy pills?  Is there something that I am missing? I understand that you are pairing two fallen, sinful, deprave human beings together and asking them to be productive and fruitful, and that in and of itself presents a number of hiccups or speed bumps. But does it make impossible? Does it make it miserable? Does it make it not worth it?

I pray that, if you are married, you don’t hesitate to answer those questions. I hope that the answer is a quick “no.”

Here’s the thing– for us singles, we need to hear, see, and be encouraged to know that it is possible. It is worth it.  It is beautiful and lovely and blessed. Married men and women need to advocate for their marriages as well as the marriages of future generations.  Despite what you may think, we listen closely and carefully.  We are more attentive that we look, but we are paying attention to what you say about your marriage and how you say it.  And from you, we render our opinions on whether or not we can do it too. 

So if you are married– be grateful that you are and let us share in that joy with you.

If you are a single woman– you are not alone.

If you are single man– my number is … haha, kidding.

Well Done, Mere. Well Done.

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I have never been technically inclined. That is to say– I can’t fix anything that needs nails, screwdrivers, or, most especially, wires or cables of any kind.  And not only can I not fix things, but I have no desire to learn.  It’s not because I’m lazy or stupid either.  It’s because I want to call a repairman.

Today, this theory came back to bite me.

Our cable has been acting up quite a bit lately.  I tapped on the TV, loosened and re-tightened cables, unplugged and plugged back in random wires, and then sat a stared at a blue screen with the flashing text that read “No Signal.”

After consulting with my roommate, we concluded that calling in a professional was necessary.  I volunteered to be home when he came too.  Here’s what I was expecting…

However, the gentleman that knocked on my door did not look like this. He looked more like a retired WWF figher… Bummer

“C’mon in,” I said and led him to the TV.   I felt a little awkward because I didn’t know what to do, where to stand, or what to say.  I couldn’t explain what I thought had happened… I had no idea.

So I decided to unload the dishwasher.  And because I have seen too many episodes of “Forensic Files” I kept knives close by… you know, just in case.  By the time I had placed the last coffee cup in the cupboard, he finally spoke.

“It was on the wrong channel, ma’am. There’s nothing wrong it.”

Good thing these services are free of charge.