Is your waist less than 35 inches, men? Less than 32.5”, ladies? If not, you may be dangerously exposing yourself to increased risk of heart disease, according to Dr. Mehmet Oz, who appeared recently on Oprah.
My sweet husband lovingly taped this Oprah episode for me, knowing that I could stand to do a slightly better job of living FOR my heart, my physical heart that is. I could only watch a few minutes before feeling overwhelmed by conviction, although Mitch kept assuring me the later part of the show supposedly contains GOOD news.
Dr. Oz tells me I have an organ attached to my stomach – called the omentum - which stores fat. In this picture, Oprah is holding up a healthy omentum. Unfortunately, I think mine looks like the one on the left.
Although many people who know me may not realize this, I am just a couple pounds shy of being officially obese for my height and weight.
Here is one obesity calculator
In 2006 my health plan added an obesity wellness benefit, including extra tests and nutritional counseling for those who qualify. I came home and rather flippantly told Mitch I might be able to get these benefits. He promptly assured me this is not something to be excited about!
One of the positive things which has come out of the recent heartache at my church is that I (and probably you and millions of other Christians) have begun taking inventory of my own life. What weaknesses can I work on correcting? Is my accountability plan adequate to protect me from myself? And so forth.
Shortly after, I read Mark Driscoll’s blog
(thanks to Todd’s Nov 6 post) where Mark talks about women who let themselves go, thereby not helping their husbands any in the battle against sexual temptations. He’s talking about pastors and their wives, but I think it’s relevant for everyone. I promptly went home and related this to Mitch, and told him I want to change. Not only so he can find me more sexually attractive, but so I can live longer to be a blessing to my children and others.
Now Dr. Oz tells me that the number I should be looking at, first and foremost, is not my weight but my waistline. While 32.5 inches may sound do-able for most women, it’s an other-end-of-the-rainbow number for me. Mitch, on the other hand, has gorgeous flat abs that fit in size 31 pants – only slightly bigger than high school – and well within the 35 inches suggested by Dr. Oz for optimum heart health. I’m very proud of him, and wish I could add his waistline with mine and call it a healthy family average. But each of us is responsible for our own chocolate consumption.
Anyone else out there ready to make a change? I know some of us think about this every New Year’s, but this time, I think I need a jump start in November. It’s going to take some serious momentum to trim my omentum.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
The Day The Tower Fell
For me, like so many others, Pastor Ted’s agonizingly public exposure and dismissal is one of those events which etch on one’s mind exactly where and how we heard the news. Right before lunch on Thursday, a close friend called me, a disillusioned believer who questions or rejects many of the beliefs we were both raised with. Someone who had once visited New Life Church with me, in 1992.
“Well, I guess you’re going to be getting a new pastor,” he told me, and briefly recounted what he’d heard on the radio. My stomach did flips and churned into knots, then I quickly pulled my thoughts back from the unthinkable. “I don’t believe it’s true,” I told him. “You don’t understand what a huge target this man is.” Most people who know Pastor Ted in person or by reputation immediately assumed the best, and jumped into the ring in his defense. I wrote a blog post titled, “We Believe You, Pastor Ted,” which I almost published, and then I saw the Ross Parsley quote, “Some of the allegations are true.”
Those who rushed to refute the accusations may now feel they’ve been made fools of. I hope not. Pure loyalty is never so truly foolish as sideline skepticism which risks nothing, believes nothing and gives its heart to nothing.
Although I’ve never been a member of New Life Church, for 15 years I’ve held Pastor Ted (and the church) in the highest regard, as one of my heroes and mentors-from-afar, via books like Primary Purpose and sermons like “Five Ways to Pray For the Lost.”
My first memory of Pastor Ted is from a packed-house Change the World School of Prayer, taught by
Dick Eastman at New Life in about 1991. To alleviate those inevitable long lines at the women’s restroom, the church posted signs on all the first floor men’s rooms, reserving them for the women. I remember Pastor Ted, standing in the crowded halls like a rock in the stream, directing traffic loudly and with enthusiasm. Always smiling, always a servant. I had never seen a senior pastor take on the task of crowd control, and it impressed me greatly.
“Jesus is better than cotton candy!” he would tell his Sunday night congregation. “I want to get a big cotton candy machine and sno-cone machine right here in the sanctuary so we can tell everyone that Jesus is better!” Coming from my rather staid religious background, outrageous, contagiously joyful statements like these, delivered with his million dollar smile, kept me coming back for more substantive teaching (of which there was plenty.) Praying through the 10/40 window with the flags hanging overhead, learning to live from the Tree of Life . . .
In fact, the only reason Mitch & I didn’t join New Life is that we felt called to be members of a tiny struggling church up the road. But we often went down for Sunday nights, or special events, like the Carman concert, or “Hell’s Flames, Heaven’s Gates.”
It’s not that I put him on a pedestal, not that I’m so naïve that I think any one person could never fall. But there are certain people who stand out like Pikes Peak in my spiritual landscape, landmarks we take for granted and expect to see standing come hell or high water. Well, hell came, and for me it feels like there’s a big hole in the Front Range this morning.
Oh, Pastor Ted, my heart is broken for you, for your family, your congregation, and for all of us in the Body of Christ. When one part hurts, we all hurt. Twenty-one years, ended, just like that, in four days. It is beyond comprehension.
Over the weekend, I sought comfort in reading David’s lament for Saul and Jonathan. Like them, Pastor Ted fell in battle. While the responsibility is entirely his own, as he stated, it is obvious to me that his position at the forefront put a bulls-eye on his chest.
Coming on the heels of Pastor Appreciation month in October, the clearest message I hear is the urgency to better protect and care for our pastors, all of whom face attack on many levels and in a variety of ways.
Sunday’s service at New Life (where, after all these years, ironically I just began attending regularly two months ago) is one I will never forget. Pastor Ted’s own wisdom helped put in place the system of outside overseers which dismissed him. This is only the second time in my life where I’ve observed public church discipline. In my opinion (speaking as someone who is more than a casual observer but far less than an insider), it was handled extremely well, with speed, grace, sensitivity, fairness and firmness, with dual goals of protecting the church and restoring Pastor Ted in the long run, albeit to some other ministry in the larger Body of Christ, never again New Life.
The news accounts I’ve read of the service are largely accurate and captured some of the many touching moments. When Pastor Ross opened by saying, “We are a family!” the congregation erupted into a long standing ovation – clearly an emotional release and the first opportunity to express visible unity as a body. In spite of everyone’s hurt, the overwhelming message I heard on Sunday is that God is worthy of our worship and Jesus is the solution to our sin problem. It was almost like the victorious triumphing over sorrow that you see at some Christian funerals – the grief very evident, but also the sense of rock solidity beneath. Even before the service, I had zero doubt that New Life Church will pull through. After the service, I think, even the media now knows this.
On the day the tower falls, God is there to catch us. We can always rely on His unlimited hope, grace and the power of redemption. Because in the end, He is the only strong tower.
“Well, I guess you’re going to be getting a new pastor,” he told me, and briefly recounted what he’d heard on the radio. My stomach did flips and churned into knots, then I quickly pulled my thoughts back from the unthinkable. “I don’t believe it’s true,” I told him. “You don’t understand what a huge target this man is.” Most people who know Pastor Ted in person or by reputation immediately assumed the best, and jumped into the ring in his defense. I wrote a blog post titled, “We Believe You, Pastor Ted,” which I almost published, and then I saw the Ross Parsley quote, “Some of the allegations are true.”
Those who rushed to refute the accusations may now feel they’ve been made fools of. I hope not. Pure loyalty is never so truly foolish as sideline skepticism which risks nothing, believes nothing and gives its heart to nothing.
Although I’ve never been a member of New Life Church, for 15 years I’ve held Pastor Ted (and the church) in the highest regard, as one of my heroes and mentors-from-afar, via books like Primary Purpose and sermons like “Five Ways to Pray For the Lost.”
My first memory of Pastor Ted is from a packed-house Change the World School of Prayer, taught by
Dick Eastman at New Life in about 1991. To alleviate those inevitable long lines at the women’s restroom, the church posted signs on all the first floor men’s rooms, reserving them for the women. I remember Pastor Ted, standing in the crowded halls like a rock in the stream, directing traffic loudly and with enthusiasm. Always smiling, always a servant. I had never seen a senior pastor take on the task of crowd control, and it impressed me greatly.
“Jesus is better than cotton candy!” he would tell his Sunday night congregation. “I want to get a big cotton candy machine and sno-cone machine right here in the sanctuary so we can tell everyone that Jesus is better!” Coming from my rather staid religious background, outrageous, contagiously joyful statements like these, delivered with his million dollar smile, kept me coming back for more substantive teaching (of which there was plenty.) Praying through the 10/40 window with the flags hanging overhead, learning to live from the Tree of Life . . .
In fact, the only reason Mitch & I didn’t join New Life is that we felt called to be members of a tiny struggling church up the road. But we often went down for Sunday nights, or special events, like the Carman concert, or “Hell’s Flames, Heaven’s Gates.”
It’s not that I put him on a pedestal, not that I’m so naïve that I think any one person could never fall. But there are certain people who stand out like Pikes Peak in my spiritual landscape, landmarks we take for granted and expect to see standing come hell or high water. Well, hell came, and for me it feels like there’s a big hole in the Front Range this morning.
Oh, Pastor Ted, my heart is broken for you, for your family, your congregation, and for all of us in the Body of Christ. When one part hurts, we all hurt. Twenty-one years, ended, just like that, in four days. It is beyond comprehension.
Over the weekend, I sought comfort in reading David’s lament for Saul and Jonathan. Like them, Pastor Ted fell in battle. While the responsibility is entirely his own, as he stated, it is obvious to me that his position at the forefront put a bulls-eye on his chest.
Coming on the heels of Pastor Appreciation month in October, the clearest message I hear is the urgency to better protect and care for our pastors, all of whom face attack on many levels and in a variety of ways.
Sunday’s service at New Life (where, after all these years, ironically I just began attending regularly two months ago) is one I will never forget. Pastor Ted’s own wisdom helped put in place the system of outside overseers which dismissed him. This is only the second time in my life where I’ve observed public church discipline. In my opinion (speaking as someone who is more than a casual observer but far less than an insider), it was handled extremely well, with speed, grace, sensitivity, fairness and firmness, with dual goals of protecting the church and restoring Pastor Ted in the long run, albeit to some other ministry in the larger Body of Christ, never again New Life.
The news accounts I’ve read of the service are largely accurate and captured some of the many touching moments. When Pastor Ross opened by saying, “We are a family!” the congregation erupted into a long standing ovation – clearly an emotional release and the first opportunity to express visible unity as a body. In spite of everyone’s hurt, the overwhelming message I heard on Sunday is that God is worthy of our worship and Jesus is the solution to our sin problem. It was almost like the victorious triumphing over sorrow that you see at some Christian funerals – the grief very evident, but also the sense of rock solidity beneath. Even before the service, I had zero doubt that New Life Church will pull through. After the service, I think, even the media now knows this.
On the day the tower falls, God is there to catch us. We can always rely on His unlimited hope, grace and the power of redemption. Because in the end, He is the only strong tower.
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