Tag Archives: computer

Divine Forgetfulness

Posted on by

1

“No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’ because they will all know Me, from the least of them to the greatest,” declares the Lord.  “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more,” (Jeremiah 31:34, emphasis mine).

Of all the things that God can do, I think the most mind-blowing power He has is the power to forget.  Have you ever considered how God is able to forget?  I mean, He’s God, right?  He knows the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10)—every detail!  How does God forget anything?  Psalm 9:18 says that God will never forget the needy.

I heard a sermon in which the preacher said that in order to resurrect the dead, God doesn’t need the entire body intact, only a sample of their DNA.  But there are many saints who were martyred by being burned.  Their DNA has been completely destroyed.  But God, who has numbered the very hairs on their heads (Matthew 10:30), remembers them in detail, right down to the details of their DNA.  Even with all our scientists and computers, we still don’t know the exact number of genes there are in human DNA, but estimates range up to 150,000, according to the Human Genome Project.  And each person is absolutely unique.  So if God knows the exact number of the hairs on each head of every person alive today (over 7 Billion, source World Population Clock), and everyone who has ever previously lived, which is a number that only God knows, but we could estimate would be another 7 Billion, that is a mind-boggling amount of information.  And God doesn’t need to write it down.  He remembers it—all of it!

So I think I’m safe in saying that God has an infinite memory—He is omniscient, which means that He knows everything (I John 3:20, Hebrews 4:13).  How does someone with an infinite memory forget?  Yet the Bible says again and again that God will forget our sins (Hebrews 8:12, Hebrews 10:17, Isaiah 43:25, and Jeremiah 31:34, above).

The Bible gives the answer in Psalm 32:1: “Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered,” (emphasis mine).  And again: “Blessed are those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.  Blessed is the one whose sin the Lord will never count against them,” (Romans 4:7-8, emphasis mine).  How does someone with an infinite memory forget?  He forgets by focusing on the thing that has covered our sins.  There is only one thing that covers sin, and that is blood.  And only the blood of Jesus permanently covers sin.

If your sins have not been covered by the blood of Jesus, you cannot stand in the presence of our Holy God.  But you can very easily remedy that situation.  Right now you can make Jesus your Savior.  Pray this prayer with me:

Lord God, I know that I’ve sinned against You.  I am truly sorry.  Please forgive me for the sake of Your Son, Jesus Christ.  Thank You for sending Jesus to die in my place to cover my sins.  Help me to live a life that is pleasing to You through the power of Your Holy Spirit who I receive right now.  In Jesus’ Name I pray.  Amen.

If you just prayed that prayer for the first time, welcome to the family of God!  Yes, you have been adopted as His child, and you are now a new creation (Romans 8, Galatians 4:6-7, and 2 Corinthians 5:17).  All the old life has passed away.  Hallelujah!  To start this new life right, you should do 2 things right away:

  1. Read the Bible.  If you don’t have a Bible, most cities have a Christian bookstore where you can get one.  Most churches also sell Bibles—some even give Bibles to new believers.
  2. Get involved with a Bible-preaching church in your area.  Notice I say “get involved.”  Church is not a building.  Church is a living organism—the Body of Christ.  So get actively involved.

Remember this above all else: God is good!

Too Much Homework is Overwhelming!

Posted on by

0

I haven’t forgotten that I need to write Part 2 of my last post, Blessed Reassurance.  But here’s the thing: I’ve just got too much writing to do at the moment.  I need to write:

  1. The script for a film about the missionary guesthouse that my apartment in Milan has become,
  2. The script for a PowerPoint about the ministry,
  3. A new post for the website’s blog, and
  4. Part 2 of my last blog post, mentioned above)

In addition to those writing tasks, I have 2 very big translation jobs:

  1. A book from Italian into English (due by the end of the summer) and
  2. Our corporate paperwork from English into Italian (due as soon as possible)

All this is just overwhelming me almost to the point of paralysis.

So, instead of putting off the blog altogether, I thought I would take a pleasant little detour today, and take you on a little guided tour into a writer’s mind—mine!  I have written 3 complete books (nonfiction), and 2 that I never completely finished (fiction—I lost interest ¾ of the way through), and several plays (3-5 acts) and skits, the majority of which have been produced in schools and/or churches.  That’s not bragging, it’s just establishing that I know a thing or 2 about writing.

my books2 of the 3–the only ones I own copies of!

Sometimes people tell me that they feel that urge to write, but writing a book just seems like too big a task.  It’s funny but, I found books to be the easiest thing to write.  Although by word count my plays are about a 10th the size of my books, they were much harder to write.  It was rewarding when they were done, especially when I saw my plays acted on the stage.  But writing, especially dialogue, was like do-it-yourself dentistry: painful and difficult.  Pulling the words out of my characters’ mouths was like trying to extract my own teeth with a rusty pair of pliers.  (How’s that for a colorful image?)

Books are not so hard to write if you break the task into small pieces.  The blog has helped with that—something I hadn’t imagined when I first started blogging just 3 years ago.  In addition, writing becomes easier if you make a regular appointment with yourself.  I try to write daily, but sometimes my heavy travel schedule makes it impossible to keep up with every single day.  One thing I found is that if you start to treat your writing time as an important appointment, you’ll find that your creative self will meet you at your desk, ready to write.  But you must treat your writing task as something important.  Turn off the phone, don’t answer the door, and close your web browser (unless you need to do research on the internet).

Beginning writers might find more success if they write things out with pencil and paper.  My first book was entirely handwritten before a word of it was put on the computer.  There is something about the sound of the pencil scratching across the page that unblocks the creative wells.  And, yes, even writing nonfiction is creative.  You have an incident that happened, but you choose how to shade it and frame it.

If you want to write, but don’t know what to write about, then take a look at what you like to read.  I have always preferred true life stories, how people overcame their circumstances by faith.  I think that’s why I lost interest in writing those 2 novels.  I just find real life so much more interesting, bizarre, and unpredictable.  Many of the things that have happened in my life are so strange that you simply could never make them up.  And the fact that they are true gives them a meaning that mere fiction could never attain.

It is extremely helpful to be a part of a writing group, that is, a group of writers that get together to support each other’s work.  The key word is support.  If the group you find is only interested in tearing each other’s work apart, then find or form another group.  The most helpful writing group I’ve been in was one in which each of us read what we had worked on that week.  Sometimes it’s only by hearing yourself read it aloud that you can notice things like run-on sentences and nonsensical phrasings.  The others then critiqued the writing, but always in kind and helpful ways.

In general, it’s not a good idea to share your writing with non-writers—at least not at first.  Non-writers usually don’t know how to tell you what works and what doesn’t.  Sometimes their comments will be a sweeping statement of disapproval, when in reality there is just a misplaced word or an awkward phrase.  The writing process has been likened to pregnancy and birth.  You wouldn’t give your newborn baby to an inexperienced and clumsy teenager, so you need to treat your newborn writing project with as much care and tenderness.

Editing is way more difficult than writing.  The most important ingredient for editing is time.  Put your writing aside for several weeks or even months.  That will give you fresh eyes to edit with.  So after reading your work to a writing group, making the changes suggested by your “midwives,” put it aside and work on something else or a different part of the project.  Then when you come back to it, you will be much more objective about what you’ve written.  Sometimes you’ll even be surprised by how good it is.

During the editing process, I like to add the sensory imagery that is missing from the first draft.  Sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste all add a dimension to the writing that will help your reader become engrossed in your writing.  Since my writing is nonfiction, this means going back in my mind to remember these missing elements.  Sometimes these come back to me in Technicolor, Dolby surround sound, and Odorama (does anyone else remember Polyester?).  Other times, I have to imagine what is missing.  But this is such an important element that I dare not skip this step, even if it’s difficult to remember.

So, there you have it: my writing process.  Oh, and one last thing: while praying the other day, the Lord showed me that this year I have been working on 2 books simultaneously—hallelujah!  God is good!

Help! I’m Stewing in a Bureaucratic Caldron!

Posted on by

0

I spent my summer vacation this year much like I did last year:  hosting missionaries in Bob and Jill’s beach house that I was watching for them while they took their kids back home to the UK.  While others were baking their bodies in the sun all day, I finished my book, which is what I did last summer, too.  At about six in the evening, when the sun was lower on the horizon, I would put on my swimsuit and go float in the sea for a while.  Thus, the days passed in creative effort and relaxed play.  I could never have imagined that ministry would be such a pleasure!

Then I returned to the US to help my mom move to another state.  The move went very well, and as problem-free as any move can be.  Moving is always an exhausting chore—and if you don’t know that, then you’re one of the fortunate few that has probably never moved house at all!

Last spring I sold my house in Texas.  I figured that since I live in Italy most of the time, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to keep a house there.  When I sold the house, I told Mom: “Wherever you are is my house.”  She was delighted, and actually started looking for a place to live close to my brother.

My brother had moved into my house when his burnt down in a Texas wildfire.  All the people and pets were saved, but they lost virtually all of their possessions.  After my nephew graduated from high school, my brother moved to another state—one with a more hospitable climate—one where wildfires don’t happen.  Their new home happens to be only about four hours away from my sons and my baby grandchild.

Mom found a retirement center just half an hour from my brother’s new home.  They were running a special that she could have a second person live with her for free, but that person had to be at least 55 years old.  Since I’m 56, Mom got a two bedroom unit, and prepared to move.

So, my new legal residence in the US is in a seniors apartment with my mom.  I have to admit, it was weird at first, but most of the people there are so nice, so kind, so friendly that they have actually taught me a valuable lesson.  They have taught me to stop seeing people by age or infirmity, and instead to see them by their character.  Notice that I said that most of the people are nice, kind, and friendly.  Seeing people by their character also means that my discernment has been sharpened, so that those people who have spent their lives chasing money or seeking esthetic beauty (instead of inner beauty) reveal themselves as the small, shriveled souls that they are.  At the same time, those who have spent their lives cultivating a good character reveal a beauty that age or infirmity cannot diminish.  The discovery of this marvelous truth was like finding a gold nugget in the trash, and I believe that it has actually beautified my own soul.

Before booking my flight home to help Mom move house, I prayed for guidance, and immediately I felt like three weeks was enough time to get the move done, and to get her settled-in.  In fact, three weeks was exactly right, not just for Mom, but was right for me, and the things I needed to accomplish in the US before returning to Italy.

One thing I needed to do, but also wanted to do, of course, was to see my sons and my grandbaby.  We had a really nice, though brief, visit.  My younger son asked for my help in getting a document from Italy that he needs in order to get financial aid for university.  He needs a background check from his last three places of residence.  He tried to ask for it online, but for one reason and another, was unable.  The difficulty of obtaining this document is only matched by the absurdity of its requirement.  He was a child when he lived in Italy, and moved back to the US two months before his eighteenth birthday, so even if he was some sort of child prodigy criminal mastermind, his records would be sealed.

Dealing with the Italian bureaucracy is unfortunately unavoidable if you live in Italy, so with eleven years of experience under my belt, I prepared the requesting documents and went to the Procura (the equivalent of the District Attorney) of Milan.

First Visit to the Procura

Monday – The office of the Procura was on a street I had never heard of.  I arrived just two minutes after nine in the morning.  It turns out that the office is actually inside the Courthouse, not just near it.  So I had to go through screening.  I always carry a camera with me because you never know when you will come across something interesting that you want to remember.  I was told that I cannot enter with a camera, but that there is a coffee bar across the street where they will hold it for me.  So I had to exit, get rid of the camera, and go through the screening process again.  Luckily there was not a line to get in.  By the time I got to the right door and took a number, my number was 50.  The sign showed that they were working on number four.  Twenty minutes later, they were still on number four, and an officer came out and announced that they were shorthanded, and that nobody need bother to wait past 10:30.  All the people there rushed her and began peppering her with questions.  I left.  It didn’t take a genius to see that they would never get to my number by 10:30.

Tuesday – The following morning I had an appointment at the Russian Consulate to apply for a tourist visa to visit Moscow in October.  I figured that was just as well, since all the people who hadn’t gotten into the Procura this morning would be there bright and early the next morning.

My appointment at the Russian Consulate wasn’t without its challenges, too.  I had requested the appointment online, and the address given was, of course, way over on the other side of town.  As always, I allowed plenty of time for searching for an unfamiliar street in a part of town I hardly know.  I studied the map before leaving the house, jotted directions for myself, and headed out.  It did take quite a bit of searching because what the map didn’t show is that the street changes names a few times en route.  I stopped a man and asked directions.  He pulled a GPS out of his briefcase, put in the address, and showed me how to find the Consulate.  I have never known an Italian to be so helpful to a stranger.  Perhaps he was just not typical or perhaps he was an especially kind person who was put in my path by God or maybe he was an angel.  Who knows?

Despite having gone slightly off-course, I still made it about fifteen minutes early.  The big Russian guard that appeared at the door was rushed by people who waved papers at him, speaking in Russian.  I stood nearby and waited.  He brushed them aside when he saw that I had an official appointment paper.  Perhaps they hadn’t had appointments, who knows?  He studied my appointment paper, and conducted me inside, telling me in Italian which window to go to.  I went to that window, and the woman said, “We don’t do tourist visas here.”  She shoved my papers back at me and indicated a man sitting at a table with a sign that said Assicurazione (Insurance).  She had already turned her back and was talking to someone else before I could ask anything.  So I went to the insurance table and waited as he finished dealing with a family.  Confused, I showed him my papers.  He said, “You need to go to this address,” and he wrote an address on a sticky note with the name “Italconcepts” in bold print.  He assured me that it was close by, “Left out the door, right at the end of the block, then right at the roundabout.”

As I walked out, I was feeling somewhat discouraged, especially after the fiasco of that visit to the Procura.  But then my spirit rose up within me and said to me, “Look!  If God wants me to go to Russia, then no power on earth can stop me!”  And with each step I grew more and more confident that I would indeed get the visa to Russia.

I followed his directions, and found the roundabout about a kilometer away (about half a mile).  Then I found the address was another 100 meters or so, but my confidence had started to fade.  What remained was a sort of numbness, and that’s better than worry or fear, but falls shy of confidence’s exhilaration.

The agent was an Italian, and the first person that morning to smile at me.  Don’t underestimate the reassuring power of a smile.  He looked over my papers and said, “We don’t need this.  We don’t need that.”  Then he pointed to my invitation and said, “We can’t use this.”  He explained that because it was a photograph of an invitation, they would not accept it.  He interrupted himself to ask the receptionist a question.  Her name was Olga.  When he turned back to me and saw the disappointment on my face, he quickly added, “But we don’t need this invitation because we will invite you.”  I was confused, but I figured that Italconcepts must be some kind of facilitating agency that works with the Russian Consulate.

And Facilitate he did.  He explained that the online form for inviting Americans is four times longer than that for citizens of other countries, so he filled it out for me, asking me the pertinent questions.  When he got to the question “Organization,” I said that I wasn’t with an organization.  I told him that because as far as the Italian government is concerned, I am living here as a retired housewife, which I am.  There was and is no reason to complicate things by bringing the ministry to their attention, since I earn no money in Italy.  He said, “Come on, aren’t you with an organization of some kind?  A church, perhaps?”  I said, “Well, I do have a church here, and I told him the name of my Italian home church, which is Ministero Sabaoth.  I was about to spell it for him because Italians don’t pronounce the H, but to my astonishment, he spelled it perfectly.  Then he smiled at my shock and said, “I’m a Christian, too.  I know your church and your wonderful female pastor.”

So I’ve been granted a visa to Russia, and as I was about to leave it started to rain buckets.  He looked out the window and said, “Did you bring an umbrella?”  I hadn’t, so he loaned me his umbrella—a nice big one!  As I was walking to the bus stop, God said, “See?  I have people in places you know nothing about.”

Second Visit to the Procura

Wednesday – This time I left the camera at home and made sure to get to the Procura about eight-thirty—half an hour before it opens.  My number from the ticket machine was fifteen.  About an hour after opening my number came up.  The woman at the window looked at my documents, shoved them back at me and in a very harsh tone said, “You need a proxy.”  And like the woman at the visa window in the Russian Consulate, she turned her back and started talking to someone else.

If this had been in English, it would not have been such a problem, but even after living in Italy for almost twelve years, it unnerves me to be spoken to in such a hostile manner in Italian.  I’ve never been able to respond verbally—at least not in Italian.  In fact, the last time it happened, I broke down and cried on the spot—which had no effect whatsoever upon the person who had evoked the tears.  Mute, I gathered my papers and left the Procura feeling like a failure.  That feeling evolved into anger as I returned home.

With nothing else to do, but get back to paperwork at the house, I turned on my computer and opened my e-mail.  I subscribe to a prophecy newsletter, and it’s remarkable how many times it speaks precisely to me and to my situation.  Here’s what Wednesday’s prophecy said:

When your focus is narrowed so that you obsess over things that are not going your way or working the way you desire, you lose perspective and vision.  Refuse to concentrate on your worries and woes and do not allow you heart to be hardened to the point of being ungrateful.  You can choose to maintain a positive outlook, which will improve your disposition and mental health, says the Lord.  Do not despair.

This is not the first time that God has reminded me of the importance of remembering to be grateful.  So, with my attitude properly adjusted, I went on with my work, catching up on my records-keeping and planning for travel in November.

I wrote to my son, telling him what the woman at the Procura had said, and pleading with him to try to find another way.  He wrote back that one of the documents he had given me was a Proxy, authorizing me to ask for a background check.  I looked the papers over carefully, and he was right.

Third Visit to the Procura

Thursday – This time I went about an hour before the Procura opened.  I got ticket number one from the machine, and waited for the office to open.  As I waited, I thought about the Proxy, and decided not to let anyone deny me this time.  Then I began to pray for the hostile woman who had spoken so harshly to me yesterday.  As I prayed for her, God showed me that she is a very unhappy person who feels trapped in her job, but dares not quit.  Prayers full of compassion began to flow out of me for her.  By the time they opened, I was ready to deal with her from a heart full of love and concern for her as a human being.  The person at the window, however, was a man.  He took my papers and looked through them, while talking to another man behind the counter.  He looked very much in his element, multitasking, conversing, and reaching for things he needed without having to look.  I looked for the woman from yesterday, and finally saw her at a desk on the far side of the office, immersed in her paperwork.  That’s when I remembered Monday’s announcement that they were shorthanded, and realized that she must have been filling in at the counter for someone who was out sick.  As I considered that, I realized that she must have used hostility as a way to cover up for not really knowing how to do the work she had been asked to do.  After all, no one likes to be revealed as incompetent—even at a job they are only filling in on.  I wondered how many people before me had confronted her and had made her feel bad about herself before I showed up at her window.

Meanwhile, the man at the window busily tapped at his computer, stapled documents, stamped them, and chatted merrily with his coworkers.  With a final flourish he hit the Enter key and the printer whirred to life and spit out the two documents I had come for.  He stamped them, signed them and gave them to me.  I said, “That’s it?  I don’t need to come back for them?”  He said, “No, you’re done!”  And he turned back to his work, filing my documents in his Out box.

As I returned home with the documents in hand, it occurred to me that perhaps God had a larger purpose in having me go through the drama with the woman on Wednesday—a purpose for me (solidifying the lesson of remaining always grateful) and a purpose for her (in my prayers for her).  Then I realized that even going through the bureaucratic mess that Italian residency requires isn’t really such a bad thing.  God is able to redeem even this frustrating, time-eating, often futile activity.

I’ve said it many, many times before: God is good!

The Table

Posted on by

3

I was going through my computer documents and, I came across the following piece that I had written in October 2011, while I was at the 24/7 worship celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles in Poland.

A theme that kept recurring during that weeklong celebration was The Table.  About six months before I went to Poland I was in Alessandria, Italy, visiting a small church there.  My friend, Pastor Matteo, was guest-preaching that evening, and after the sermon he gave three altar calls:

  1. For anyone wanting to receive God’s free gift of salvation in Jesus Christ
  2. For anyone needing healing or other prayers
  3. For anyone wanting more from God

At that third invitation I leaped to my feet.  Pastor Domenico and his wife prayed for me, and then he told me: “God says that He has put a big Table before you, and it is full of everything you could ever want or need.”  Then he added, “But of course, you need to share with God’s people.”  He didn’t need to add that because it is my heart to share with God’s people.

So in Poland six months later, when there were several teachings that mentioned The Table, I knew that I had to share the Word that God had given me through Pastor Domenico.  And when I did, I told the people there that I believe The Table is for all of us, not just me.  And the next day, the following is what I wrote:

Last night the French team was leading worship and I suddenly became overwhelmed and scared by the task ahead of me: five months of speaking to churches and at conferences all over the US about missions in Europe.  And I said, “God, if You don’t help me, I’m in big trouble because I don’t know what I’m doing!  I need You!  I need You!  I need You!”  And I began to cry in my desperate need for God.

I tried to calm down a bit, but then the thought came: “If Europe’s future depends on me, then Europe is in big trouble.”  Of course I know that Europe’s future does not depend on me, but such is my burden and call for Europe that I cried even harder because it wasn’t my own embarrassment and failure, but Europe and her missionaries.  So I cried and cried some more.  While the French team was singing songs of love and praise to God, I was weeping from a broken heart for Europe.  And I continued to beg God: “I need You!  I need You!  I need You!”

Finally, I calmed down, remembering the table full of everything I could ever want or need.  And I said, “Lord, the gifts are great, but I don’t want any gifts!  I want You!  I need You!”  And I began to cry a third time from my desperate need for God.

Then God spoke, and in a very tender voice He said: “My child, I am in every gift!  I am on the table!  Every gift is simply more of Me!  Why do you think I keep inviting you to take everything you need, everything you want from the table?  Because I am everything that is on the table!  Take all you want of Me!”  And I said: “Lord, I want ALL of You!”

And I saw myself dropping all the things I had been holding onto: the desire for a home, the desire for a godly husband to share my life, the desire to spend more time with my new grandchild.  These things that I had thought were so important, I just let them go.  And I said, “Now I’m ready, and I want only You, and ALL of You!”

And after that I was exhausted.  So when the team leader took the French team back to the hotel, I went with them.  And I slept and dreamed:

Fire came down from Heaven and suddenly I clearly saw the way to go, but I held back because there was someone else there and I thought that person should lead.  But that person couldn’t see the way to go, so I had to lead.

Then I woke up.  There was my answer!  God will lead me during my five month speaking tour in the US!

And now, four months after my speaking tour of the US has ended, I can say that it went very well, but not because of me.  I spent at least an hour in prayer before each speaking engagement, yielding myself, and asking the Holy Spirit to speak through me.  And from those speaking engagements, I got several more intercessors, which is a very precious gift, indeed!

God is good!

God’s Standard

Posted on by

0

Grace is amazing!  I’m so thankful for grace that saved me through no effort of my own.  After all, I could never live up to God’s standard without the work of salvation by grace in the death of Jesus on the cross.  All our good works are like filthy rags to God (Isaiah 64:6—some translations actually say “like menstrual rags”).

But even if grace is free, it doesn’t mean that we are excused forever from doing good works.  Good works are not how we get into Heaven, but they do have value.  Here are some of my thoughts about good works and the fruit (results) of those works:

  • Good works are something that we were created to do (Ephesians 2:10)
  • God’s work of salvation in us will come out as good fruit (Matthew 12:33)
  • Our work will bear fruit, either good fruit or bad (Matthew 7:16-19)
  • We are expected to bear fruit for the Kingdom of God (Matthew 3:8)
  • If we don’t bear fruit, the Father will cut us off (John 15:2)
  • We will bear fruit if we stay close to Jesus (John 15:5)
  • Our work will be tested (1 Corinthians 3:12-14)
  • It’s important to keep doing good works because we will reap a harvest if we do not give up (Galatians 6:9)

We could never save ourselves by good works, so that’s not the point of doing good works.  When we do “good works” in our flesh, we produce filthy rags.  Yes, even those things that seem good are nothing without the Holy Spirit’s guidance.  So you can spend your whole life working alongside Mother Teresa, but if God didn’t call you there, it’s all wasted effort.  And even if you are called there, but don’t spend daily time in prayer, seeking God’s face, it’s wasted effort.

Good works should produce good fruit (results) for the Kingdom—fruit that lasts.  So to produce good fruit, we’ve got to stay close to Jesus through the Holy Spirit.

Now examine yourself.  Think about how you spend your time each day.  How much time do you spend praying and reading God’s Word and then doing good works that He’s called you to do?  Now compare that to how much time you waste in front of the TV, at the computer, or playing with electronic gadgets.  (I’m not perfect, either, just in case you’re wondering.)  The world has lots of ways of seducing us away from our first love (God), so it takes some effort to resist those temptations.  Even things that are not sins, strictly speaking, can be sins if they take us away from those things that we should be doing.

So thanks to Jesus, we’ve gotten a boost that gets us entry into Heaven.  But now it’s up to us to do the good works that will bear lasting fruit for the Kingdom.  And these things we do not just because it’s required of us, but out of a grateful heart.

Once you do surrender your will completely to Him, you’ll find that His yoke really is easy and His burden is light.

God is good.