A person whose behavior or responses are wooden, listless, or seemingly rote; auto-maton.
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I'm big about regularly shooing the zombies out of my life. You know, those dead things which used to be alive, but now only appear to be.
Like books I once loved, but now am all, "Eh. Who cares?" about. Go keeping every dead-to-you book (whose covers still appear bright as ever) and your house will someday become a hard-to-walk-around-in zombie book tomb.
And trinkets! That paper mache cat we excitedly bought in 1985 can represent who we were back then-- but now, in 2013--we can have morphed into someone different (hopefully better), and what we've got now is a 1985 zombie cat. The cat's still there, still cute, but--the life our desire gave him--drained away. He's pretty much sitting there, well, dead.
And if we don't regularly release those kinds of zombies--the trinkets, doodads and clothes, etc., which no longer belong--the death piles up and we find ourselves living inside a stopped-up, overflowing hoard of dusty, lifeless zombies.
Our zombie ministries to others which we keep trying to puff life into. The zombie tv shows we watch only because we always have. The zombie flowers we still grow in the yard even though they've made our skin crawl since 2007.
And sadly, we can have zombie friendships, also. Two old friends, but now only one gives, the other always takes--or does nothing at all.
Dead zombie friendships are hard to let go of--I know. I had one die back in 2010, though we've spoken a few times since and anyone looking probably thought our friendship appeared fine. But it was the zombie thing all over. Only an appearance of life, but no heartbeat.
Yet the death of that particular old friendship happened so oddly. Suddenly. And as I pondered its demise, the more I saw God's fingers all over it. I've not found Him to do slow, lingering relationship-deaths in my life, no, usually the sever is quick.
And in this case I'm assured of one thing--I would be in error to try to resuscitate what God, Himself, ended.
The refreshing thing? I blame no one, have no hard feelings toward my former friend and am not pining for that from which God released me. I'm just recalling the fun in the years we spent together, the lessons--and feeling grateful.
Oh, that we would always see God behind the scenes! That we'd remember for more than ten seconds that to everything there is a season, a time, a purpose under Heaven. A time to be born--and a time to die.
And oh, that we'd treasure aliveness and never welcome any zombie into our lives, our homes, for even one moment. Life just might change into something altogether different, alive, if all zombies were shooed quickly away.
*******
Arise, shine; For your light has come! And the glory of the Lord is risen upon you. For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, And deep darkness the people; but the Lord will arise over you, And His glory will be seen upon you. (Isaiah 60:1-2)
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Oh! Almost forgot. Tom and I watched a wonderful old movie last night from the instant films at Netflix. It's called The Scarf. Wow, great story (give it ten minutes, or so, at the beginning to grow on you) and the filming in spots was beautiful--made our tv feel like a huge movie screen and we felt as though we were there. I think many of you would love it.
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I'm big about regularly shooing the zombies out of my life. You know, those dead things which used to be alive, but now only appear to be.
Like books I once loved, but now am all, "Eh. Who cares?" about. Go keeping every dead-to-you book (whose covers still appear bright as ever) and your house will someday become a hard-to-walk-around-in zombie book tomb.
And trinkets! That paper mache cat we excitedly bought in 1985 can represent who we were back then-- but now, in 2013--we can have morphed into someone different (hopefully better), and what we've got now is a 1985 zombie cat. The cat's still there, still cute, but--the life our desire gave him--drained away. He's pretty much sitting there, well, dead.
And if we don't regularly release those kinds of zombies--the trinkets, doodads and clothes, etc., which no longer belong--the death piles up and we find ourselves living inside a stopped-up, overflowing hoard of dusty, lifeless zombies.
Our zombie ministries to others which we keep trying to puff life into. The zombie tv shows we watch only because we always have. The zombie flowers we still grow in the yard even though they've made our skin crawl since 2007.
And sadly, we can have zombie friendships, also. Two old friends, but now only one gives, the other always takes--or does nothing at all.
Dead zombie friendships are hard to let go of--I know. I had one die back in 2010, though we've spoken a few times since and anyone looking probably thought our friendship appeared fine. But it was the zombie thing all over. Only an appearance of life, but no heartbeat.
Yet the death of that particular old friendship happened so oddly. Suddenly. And as I pondered its demise, the more I saw God's fingers all over it. I've not found Him to do slow, lingering relationship-deaths in my life, no, usually the sever is quick.
And in this case I'm assured of one thing--I would be in error to try to resuscitate what God, Himself, ended.
The refreshing thing? I blame no one, have no hard feelings toward my former friend and am not pining for that from which God released me. I'm just recalling the fun in the years we spent together, the lessons--and feeling grateful.
Oh, that we would always see God behind the scenes! That we'd remember for more than ten seconds that to everything there is a season, a time, a purpose under Heaven. A time to be born--and a time to die.
And oh, that we'd treasure aliveness and never welcome any zombie into our lives, our homes, for even one moment. Life just might change into something altogether different, alive, if all zombies were shooed quickly away.
*******
Arise, shine; For your light has come! And the glory of the Lord is risen upon you. For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, And deep darkness the people; but the Lord will arise over you, And His glory will be seen upon you. (Isaiah 60:1-2)
John 8:12
When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."
*******
Oh! Almost forgot. Tom and I watched a wonderful old movie last night from the instant films at Netflix. It's called The Scarf. Wow, great story (give it ten minutes, or so, at the beginning to grow on you) and the filming in spots was beautiful--made our tv feel like a huge movie screen and we felt as though we were there. I think many of you would love it.
*********