first kiss: to wait or not to wait? that is the question...

via

      There's been some heated debate as whether or not to save your first kiss for your wedding day. Is it okay to kiss before then...as long as there is commitment? Should you wait until engagement? Should you save it for your first date? Should you keep it for the alter? Should you even have your first kiss at the alter, but wait afterwards when you're in private? Are you just dizzy from hearing theological bullets whizzing back and forth by your head, as arguments are shot from side to side?

      I know the feeling.

      Now, before I give my opinion, I'm not saying that  I'm perfect, or you're condemned because you don't believe the same way I do, or I know all the answers. Because I don't. There is only One who knows everything, and that is God, not me. 

       I don't want to step on anyone's toes, if I can, because I know that opinions vary and situations vary. What I don't believe, however, is that there is a perfect, cut-and-paste answer for every situation. Some people may have a painful past, and it would be wiser if they waited until the preacher said, "Man and wife". Some people may feel like they're ready a little earlier. It really depends on the couple and their situation. To be honest, no couple and no story are the same. That's part of the beauty of it: God made every love story unique. I mean, wouldn't it be boring if everyone had the same story, and you knew how and when everyone--including you--would fall in love? No one would be surprised! So, my point is, every story and situation are different, so *please* don't think that I believe there is one answer as to the question of whether or not one should save their first kiss for their big day.

        However, no matter what Disney or Hollywood says, but there is such thing--no matter how romantic the moment feels--as accidentally bumping noses during a first kiss. First kisses usually aren't always those flawless sweeps-her-into-his-arms-and-suddenly-kisses-her-in-the-middle-of-a-sentence, sort of thing. I've heard first kisses are usually awkward ::chuckles:: So, I keep that in mind.


        If you don't save your very first kiss for your wedding day, I don't think it makes it any less special than if you did. As long as you are careful to remain physically and emotionally pure before. But yet, I also think that saving your kiss for the alter can be very beautiful. It would be still be very special. I don't think there's anything wrong with saving it at all, and I believe very few regret it.

        So, you may be wondering what I'm going to do. To be honest, I don't know. It depends on who I marry, their background, and the situation. I would be fine with either, actually. I would probably feel a little awkward if I were saving it for in front of all those people, but...um...it just really depends.


        Which should you do? I would advise you...just to do it however you're most comfortable! If you would feel better saving it for at the alter, then do it. I think that if you save it for engagement, wedding day, or after the wedding, they all have their advantages.

forgiving those who trespass against us...

       Forgiving others is not an easy thing to do. In fact, it is impossible to do without Christ. If we cannot forgive others, why should we expect Christ to forgive us? He still does, of course, but how can we not forgive other sinners just like us when He died on the Cross for us?


        Here is a story that has touched my heart, a story of powerful forgiveness...

from Corrie ten Boom in Tramp for the Lord
‘I
t was in a church in Munich that I saw him—a balding, heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear.
It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives.
It was the truth they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown. ‘When we confess our sins,’ I said, ‘God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. …’
The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. There were never questions after a talk in Germany in 1947. People stood up in silence, in silence collected their wraps, in silence left the room.
“And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!
“Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: ‘A fine message, Fräulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!’
And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women?
But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.
“ ‘You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,’ he was saying, ‘I was a guard there.’ No, he did not remember me.
‘But since that time,’ he went on, ‘I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fräulein,’ again the hand came out—’will you forgive me?’
And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again to be forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place—could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?
It could not have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
For I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us.
‘If you do not forgive men their trespasses,’ Jesus says, ‘neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.’
I knew it not only as a commandment of God, but as a daily experience. Since the end of the war I had had a home in Holland for victims of Nazi brutality. Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. Those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and as horrible as that.
And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too.
Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.
‘… Help!’ I prayed silently. ‘I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’
And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
‘I forgive you, brother!’ I cried. ‘With all my heart!’
For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then…
But even so, I realized it was not my love. I tried and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit as recorded in Romans 5:5… “because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given to us.”

a forgotten art ~ learning how to laugh at yourself

       To be honest, I don't do this as often as I should. I don't at-all-what-so-ever claim to be perfect at this. In fact, I'm the kind of person who will get super mad when I hit my head on my locker door and then hit it in return as if that made a difference. And then my hand hurts, too. And then I get mad again, and cradle my poor, reddened fingers as I glare menacingly at that oh-so-evil locker.

       As if it actually did something wrong.

       I mentally take a step backward and replay the whole situation in my head through someone else's eyes.

       Then suddenly, I start laughing. At myself. I continue to laugh at myself so loud and so hard, my friends ask me if something's wrong with me. I realize how ridiculous and immature I acted, and I shake my head in disbelief. 

 

        Does anyone else relate?


       I then wonder, "What is God's reaction when we become so angry and frustrated over the smallest things that don't even matter? Does He laugh?"

      It's a matter of learning how to laugh at one's self. A lost art, actually. You know, if you don't laugh at yourself now, you won't have anything to laugh at when you're old.

 

     This is something I'm still learning, but, Lord-willing, I will do it!

      

Have you ever laughed at yourself?