Tis the season

"Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say throw cares away..."

Carol of the Bells is my favorite secular Christmas song. I love how the beat gets in the body and demands motion, even to the point of stirring the soul. Even my little one loves that song, and is usually dancing wildly by the middle. Who doesn't want to throw their cares away and embrace all the season promises: family/friends, special homemade goodies, beautifully ornamented homes, presents!

"One seems to hear words of good cheer from everywhere filling the air..."

I think that's always the hope, but it never works out that way, does it? I encounter more grumpy, agitated people every Christmas, because suddenly, there's an expectation of good cheer, kindness and generosity that isn't expected the rest of the year. All year long, no one cares about their fellow man, and now because it's Christmas, I'm supposed to give of myself, when no one has given to me, when no one cares about how I'm doing? Bah, humbug.

Tis the season when the expectation rarely matches the actual life of real people. Tis the season where people feel immense pressure to perform to the standards Christmas carols and movies have presented and wind up coming up short. If I had to finish that sentence, I'd say Tis the season for inadequacy.

Not enough money, not enough time, not enough love or support, not enough generosity or kindness, too much disappointment or feeling too disappointed in, too much pressure, too many places to be and not enough self to go around. It's enough to crush the Christmas spirit we once delighted in and make us decide we want nothing to do with the whole season. I know this year, it's been super difficult for me to feel any kind of Christmas spirit because we have more month than money, and with the pressure to celebrate extravagantly, it has made me feel even my best efforts would be inadequate, and has left me asking why bother at all? Like many other days, there is no special event, no friends or extended family, no special food, a few small gifts for my little one and the rest of the day to focus on how inadequate my "celebration" is.

And then, there's Jesus, and the story of his birth. Looking at the circumstances surrounding his coming, many of us would label them as inadequate too; the King of Kings being born into lowly conditions, to a peasant girl, in a raised home and then placed in a manger because there was no guest rooms available, and the only place he could rest safely would have been downstairs with the animals, his first moments being filled with the smell of sheep and horses. His first guests were shepherds, because while the host of Heaven proclaimed his arrival, the rest of the world was preoccupied. (Luke 2) Word spread of what the shepherds had heard and seen, but it still took the Magi nearly 2 years to find him and recognize that he was THE child the world had been waiting for (Matthew 2.) There was no birthing suite waiting his arrival, no decked our nursery, no silver spoon or noble title, no velvet pillow for him to rest his head, no princes or kings to shower him with gifts. Seems like a very inadequate setting for the Savior to be born into. And yet, rather than become frustrated with everyone else's attitudes and expectations of what he would be and decide it wasn't worth it, he embraced the nature of his circumstances and came just as one of us would have. He would not let what others would dictate as adequate and worthy of celebration keep him from showing up.

So this Christmas, I encourage you, whether you deem your expressions of love to be adequate, whether you fear or have been disappointed, whether people have been kind and generous this season to you or not, show up. If you decide to wallow instead over a pint of lo-mein while watching Die Hard, no one would blame you, and many would probably join you in your humbugness, but today is a day worthy of celebration. For behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today, we commemorate the birth of the Messiah, who in the city of David came to us as one of us so that he could later die for us and rise again so that we would not face the pain of death. This is worth celebrating with our whole being, as the angels praised God on that day saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and peace to those on whom His favor rests."

His favor rests on you, so my Christmas wish to you is His deepest peace, releasing you from all feelings of inadequacy so that you might embrace His attitude, and show up to the day full of joy. Merry Christmas.

Waiting for the Father

I hope everyone had a gratitude filled Thanksgiving, where you had space to recount all the things we can be thankful for. I've always thought of holidays as excuses to extravagantly display what's in our hearts all year long. For me, it's the beginning of baking season, and I get a number of calls asking for desserts of various kinds. Usually, I have a couple chaotic flour filled days and then then the dust settles, the counter gets wiped off and I'm done for a few weeks. This year, though, is my first trying to get through the holidays with a TODDLER! It was adorable when he wanted to cut cookies with me, and visions of him growing up baking with his Mama made my heart warm and glad. But then came the piercing screaming when my husband took him back to the living room so that I could keep working. Who knew 2 days of baking around the clock would convince my son I had signed papers to give him up for adoption?? He reached and cried and threw himself on the ground as though I was taking these cookies as my new children. He's only 1 year and 7 months old, so there's no reasoning with him. He just knew I was paying a lot of attention to something else, so it obviously meant I didn't love him.

Hopefully, you see the lunacy in his reasoning. However it did reveal and posit one question: Isn't this exactly what we do to God when we see Him blessing someone while we're waiting for our answer to prayer to come?

As I thought about my son's reaction to my attention being elsewhere, I thought of the story of Lazarus (John 11:1-44.) Jesus' best friend had just died, which Jesus knew would happen, and He gathered His disciples with the intention on going and raising him. Getting to his home, he was met with Lazarus' sisters, Mary and Martha. My favorite verse, which lays bare the humanity in all of us, is when Martha says, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." After seeing if her faith was still firm, and if she still believed He was the Christ, he spoke to Mary, who reiterated her sister's words. Even though Martha followed up saying, "But I know, even now, God will give you whatever you ask," these women laid all of their grief and blame for Lazarus's death on Jesus. It was as though they was saying, "If you really loved us, this would not have happened. If you were paying more attention to us, instead of whatever else you were busy doing, this would not have happened. God will give you whatever you ask, and you were too busy asking for others and look what happened." The weight Jesus must have felt in this statement drew him to Lazarus' grave, where he wept. I can see Him, with His hands over His face, buckling under disappointment and all the hurt these women and friends have felt over this death, and crying out that sickened feeling He must have had in His stomach. He forsaw what was to come was for the glory of the Father, that He was "preoccupied" for the absolute best of reasons, but it didn't matter. All these women knew was in their time of need, Jesus didn't show up, and now, it was seemingly too late.

It is hard to wait for Jesus to show up in the face of dire circumstances, since debt, sickness, and general feelings of hopelessness don't give us a day off. Oftentimes, we fear might He won't be in time. When we see Him answering the prayers of others, fulfilling their needs, even providing for the sparrows while we struggle to make ends meet every month, we quickly interpret it as, "He just doesn't love me as much." We have no idea how long those who are being blessed have prayed patiently, have waited with bated breath for God to rescue them from their circumstances, but if we were honest, it wouldn't matter if we did. We are children who want to be the single concern in the mind of our Father, and when we are not, no matter the reason, the interpretation is abandonment.

So how can we be happy for those we see being blessed in the midst of waiting for our prayers to be answered? I think part of it comes from knowing that our Father is often doing other things that we might not see for our benefit. In my case, I was baking so I could provide for my family, which directly affects my son, even if he doesn't see it's effects until later. In Mary and Martha's case, He had something much bigger in mind than just healing their brother. In either instance, the love of the parent to the child did not waver or change. Remaining confident that God does ALL He does for our sake will help us wait expectantly for His hand to move in our lives.

I think another part is realizing waiting on the LORD is a practice that requires strength. Psalm 27 says, "Wait for the LORD. Be strong, take heart and wait for the LORD." Being involved in a community that will maintain hope with you, continuing to cry out on your behalf, and be with you in the waiting is crucial to successfully maintaining your faith and joy.

Finally, looking for where God is showing up in our lives as opposed to where He isn't can completely change our attitude in waiting, and give us confidence in His faithfulness. If when Jesus showed up, Mary and Martha realized that, (while yes, if He had been there earlier, their brother would not have died,) He was there with them, maybe they would have responded to Him differently. Much like if my little one relied on my character, previous actions, and the fact that I had not abandoned him, but was seriously 20 feet away from him at all times, acknowledging God's presence in the midst of our critical circumstances, that He's not asking us to remain desperate in silence or alone, that He is a God whose concern is never far from us can serve to bolster our faith.

I pray this coming season is one of merriment and abundant joy for all of us, but the ugly reality is that many of us are facing pressing matters. I pray that as we are pressed, we find ourselves against the Father, wrapped in His arms, reminded of the all the instances He has not abandoned us, surrounded with a great cloud of witnesses who believe on our behalf, and with the knowledge that if you woke up this morning, your story isn't over and He is still acting for your sake, even if you don't see it. Amen.

Overcome evil with good

Saturday mornings are my favorite. It's usually just me and my Little, snuggling on the couch, indulging his first thing in the morning request for Sesame Street. Today, though, the cuddles were tighter, my hand was tense on my pregnant belly, and my sorrow filled sobs were only barely drowned out by Elmo, as I read the full accounts of the attacks in Paris last night. As I then read about further attacks in Baghdad yesterday and Beirut the day before, my heart just felt irreparably broken. Laments came in like a flood while I asked, what world will I be raising my sons in? What can I do besides weep for the dead and for what this holds in the future? What does the world do now?

I don't think anything brings out rage like feeling helpless about our child's safety. There's a reason mom's will liken themselves to "mama bears," as a mother bear who sees her cubs in trouble will kill without hesitation or mercy. My first reaction tends to be one involving nuclear winter. “Time to turn Syria into a parking lot, I guess,” I said as my husband responded with a pause and then, “I have no rebuttal for that plan. I don’t know what it would take for this to stop.” 

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good,” the still, small Voice whispered. “Okay,” I thought, “What does that mean?” I took to social media, and friends shared the verses that I was referencing, saying to forgive, not retaliate but to the best of our ability be at peace with all men, and serve our enemies, which by doing so, would heap burning coals on their head. (Proverbs 25:21/Romans 12:9-21) I had been asking for hands on, practical ways I could implement such tenets. Besides attempting to live by these verses, and giving value to the fact I probably won’t have the opportunity to retaliate against or serve these enemies, how was I supposed to overcome evil with good?

I called a friend who is good at processing this sort of thing. He said the thing to remember is that Christ died for terrorists, and that God yearns for them to be delivered. That they are lost, which is why we remember that our war is not with flesh and blood, but with powers and principalities. I went back to the question my husband asked, “what would sink in? what would it take to get this to stop?” I thought of myself before I met Christ, and how I always felt like I identified with Paul, who called himself “the chief of sinners.” It was the inescapable hope of Christ that sunk in, and eventually began to change my life, and the ubiquitous grace that got into Saul and turned him from one who terrorized Christians to one of the greatest reasons the gospel was spread to the world. The gospel sinks in.

So what is the practical, hands on way I can overcome evil with good? To raise my boys in such a way that they understand the only thing that delivers from this mindset, that overcomes such evil is the far reaching nature of the gospel. It means to live myself and teach my boys that overcoming evil with good is not being filled with fear and prepared for the worst, but to pray, full of hope, that He would touch these people, believing that He wants no man to perish, but that they would be saved. It is to be willing to serve in the name of Jesus, and bring the gospel to those all rational thought would tell us keep at an arm’s length, and teach them to do likewise. To present a Savior who dies for sin, and a God who lifts the downtrodden, gives grace to the humble, and loves the undeserving, which is a vastly different picture of god than what  terrorists believe they’re serving. To be willing to go with the open hands of Jesus and present the one thing that produces change, whether by offering hope and grace or food and water, recognizing that whether He is accepted or wanted, they need Him as much as we do. It’s laying down my first reaction of I must protect my family by any means necessary, and being willing to surrender my life for the sake of the gospel, for without, none of us have any hope of a better tomorrow.

Let us cry out together that we would become a community that overcomes evil with good. Abba, show us the way to be the hands and feet of Jesus,and present Your heart to this world who is reeling from pain. Show us how we can comfort those who mourn, lift up those who have been struck down, and present the gospel to those who need to be set free from the demonic mindset that is terrorizing the world. Give us the endurance to not tire in doing good, but to believe it is Your will that all would come to the saving knowledge of Christ. Thank you for being enough, even in the midst of such evil. Your goodness overcomes. In Jesus name, amen.

Weary and Heavy Laden

It was only 7:30pm, a full hour and a half before his bedtime, but that didn't stop him from rubbing his eyes. He was SO tired that it took all he had to look up at me, finding my lap empty and my arms open. "You ok, baby?" I asked, while he looked down at the toys at his hands, quickly abandoning them. In a desperate search for rest, he crawled up me, laid his head adjacent to my heart. and within seconds,was asleep. Being the overactive toddler he's become in recent months, this never happens, and I thought about how tired he must have been while I recounted the day's activities. As I felt him fully settle into my chest, I felt my own exhaustion well up. Being 5 months pregnant, working as much as I can, taking orders for the coming holidays, being present and involved in community, and just trying to keep up with dishes and laundry. I exhaled sharply while my arms wrapped around him. Oh little one, I'm glad you trust me with your rest. I wish I had a lap to crawl into too.

"You do." I heard the Father say. I was immediately reminded of Jesus saying, "Come to Me, you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28) I think many of us have a concept of weariness or what it means to be laden that requires we wait until we can no longer stand on our own before we come to Jesus. We go to Jesus as though He's a triage nurse, with our blisters and open sores, broken hearts and bones, battered, abused and Sabbath denied souls, and then finally surrender to rest, only after we're literally forced on our backs.

As a mom, it's especially tough, because there are many demands and what feels like no days off. The expectation is that if I take even a moment off, the whole world will end. I can't afford to rest. This tape that plays over and over in my head makes parenthood a heavy and difficult yoke. Something that drags me around and if I stop trying to keep up, my work in the morning will just be double what it is today. I've seen how dishes and dust can quickly accumulate and my little one's needs don't lessen just because I'm too tired to meet them.

These concepts of weary and burdened don't serve us but only lead to burnout. Jesus says His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. (vs 29)  He's offering to partner with in terms of accomplishment, and is not a taskmaster demanding we get it all done ourselves. Maybe this is what Jesus meant when He said we must become like little children, who look for empty laps and open arms when they feel tiredness setting in, and who call out for assistance when things get hard instead of trying to tough it out. Who are moved by what brings us together and brings them joy, not a list of things to accomplish.

This world is a taxing place to live, whether you're a Wall Street lawyer or a stay at home mom, and the options for rest can feel so limited, and sometimes, non-existent. His invitation calls to all of us: "Come, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." A rest that's as good as a Father's tender lap and warm hug while we settle our exhausted souls into Him, knowing only there, we will be restored.

Abba, thank you for the faith my little one has in my ability to provide for him, not just his body, but also his soul. I ask that You would increase my faith to believe the same of You, that You desire to partner with me in the tasks the day sets before me, and that when my body and soul are weary, that You want to scoop me up and give me rest. I lay down the expectations I have for myself and what I should be able to do without Your help, and ask Your forgiveness for trying so hard to do it all. Thank you for Your merciful ways of bringing my shortcomings to light, and for covering me with the arms of grace and truth. I receive Your heart for me today. In Jesus name.

The pace of the Father

As a mom of a toddler, I feel like I spend half my day running after my little one. Between trying to keep him from jumping off the highest points he can find and keeping him away from all the hidden dangers he uncovers between the bathroom, the fridge and under the sink, it can seem I spend so much time trying to get to where he's going before he gets there. There are times though that we walk together, and rather than making him move faster, it forces me to slow my pace dramatically...

Whether or not we say it, we're always wishing our kids would hurry up. "Let's get your shoes." "Please finish your breakfast." "We have to go." All euphemisms for, "You're moving too slowly. Hurry up." Being that we chase them around, we know they can move, so we expect them to move at our speed, and keep in step with us. We forget their legs are small, and one step for us is many for them. We forget that our stride is a wide one, and that they would be left in the dust if they were expected to keep up. When their little hands meet ours, we enter into their pace, because if we tried to get them to go ours, we'd just be dragging them.

That being the case, why do so many of us believe that the Father is looking at us disappointingly and sighing, "Would you please just _______?" That blank could be a lot of things: Would you please just move on already/let it go? Would you please just get with the program? Would you please just stop holding me up? Would you please just hurry up! We believe the Father would look at us and say, "Never mind, I'll do it," like we say to our children who are taking forever to set the table or to mix the cookies. We're terrified He'll pass us by and not look back and so we run with panic trying to keep up with Him, believing He'll just take away what he's tasked us with and someone else will be called instead. We never take into account the pace of the Father.

Jesus was worshiped as Emmanuel at birth. (Matthew 2) However, it wasn't until he was 30 years old that he was baptized and began his 3 year long ministry. (Luke 3:23) Many of us feel like we've been waiting at least that long to step into what God called us to. It's easy to believe that if we don't hurry up and make things happen, that calling will disappear, and He'll just get someone else to do it. However, Jesus words in John 5, where He says he only does what He sees the Father doing (vs 19) lends to the idea that the Father's pace is not a hurried one. It's methodical, planned, intentional and as many of us have experienced in periods of waiting, slow. 

I think the pace has more to do with who He's walking with than what the speed of His true step is. He is a Father that walks with His children, like He did with Adam and Eve in the cool of the garden and with Moses and the Israelites as a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. The pace of children is a distracted one, and to walk with our little ones is to provide direction and protection. Walking with the Father is no different. Therefore, this isn't to suggest there is no sense of urgency with the Father, as many of his people were told, "Do this now." It's an acknowledgement that in the same way we slow down when we take our children's hand, that He knows children only move so fast. Whether it's the weight of our baggage slowing us down, or the cautious nature we might have against unknown territory, or even just the fact that our legs are stubby and our gaits are short and even if we ran with all of our might, we would never be able to keep up with Him, He is content to keep pace with us.

I believe the Father sees value in the journey we're on with Him. Allowing us to indulge in the occasional distraction that comes with being awestruck by beauty; to stop and listen to voices of wisdom along the way; to be cautious of what may be ahead and arrive at our destination prepared. The trust and relationship built from walking with Him as He leads to green pastures, still waters and through deserts and dark places is something that takes far more time than we adults are necessarily comfortable with. We just want to go, be there, get whatever it is done so that we can feel satisfied and accomplished. But that is not the pace of the Father.

I pray that as we walk with Jesus, and take his command of "Follow me" sincerely, that we would find contentment in the pace of the Father. That the promised healing that we're waiting on, the restoration we've been working toward, the place whispered into our heart the day passion was born in us, would be viewed through our hand in the Father's, knowing that He walks at the pace we set, and we will get there as long as we keep moving. I pray you would find the grace necessary to walk and not pull away and try to run ahead, but receive the preparation that comes with the journey. I pray that if you are one weighted down by baggage, you would receive His mercy, and hear the words my friend heard in the midst of unpacking her heart, "I'm here, and it's going to be ok."

Abba, thank you for showing me the benefit of slowing down to my child's pace. Thank you for settling my heart and removing the anxiety that comes from the thought that I need to hurry up. I pray that as I follow you that I would find peace in Your pace, and even though I want to dash ahead and get to the next thing, that you would assure me that You are not a God who dangles good things in front of His children to only take them away if they don't get there in time. Help me believe that the things you have planted in my heart will grow to fruition, and that as long as I walk with you, I will arrive at those things prepared to carry out whatever it is you've tasked me with. Thank you for being pleased to hold my hand. In Jesus name.

You make me brave

If you've been to the ocean recently, I'm sure you would agree when I say there's just something enchanting about it. Calming and peaceful, yet incredibly powerful, teeming with life and things undiscovered. It draws something out of the watcher, which is one of the reasons we spent this year's Yom Kippur (the day of atonement) at the beach. We took a friend, and while we watched the surf swell and crash into the rocks, we meditated through the prayer book. At the end, when we were asking God to inscribe us in the book of life for another year, we went out and met the waves, focusing on Micah 7:19, "You will again have compassion on us, you will tread our sin underfoot and hurl all of our iniquity into the depths of the sea." We were a little nervous, because the waves were coming in strong, and reaching much further than they had been, all the way to where we were sitting on a rock ledge. The one time I walked out with our son, the waves hit him chest high (he's a mere 32 inches tall) and knocked him backwards, and if I had let go of his hand, he would certainly have been washed out to sea. Given that was the case, my husband took his hand, and led him out to the waves, to symbolically wash away his sin, and let it be carried away, into the expansive unknown. With chest high waves crashing into him, our little one firmly gripped my husband's hand, and stayed perfectly still. My friend then said lowly, "Hold my hand, Daddy. I can be brave when I'm with you."

I know she was pointing out a touching father/son moment so that I would take a picture, but I immediately thought of the song "You make me brave" by Bethel. We've sung that song often at church, and I think we've used it to romanticize the idea of going beyond the safe shore of life and meeting God in the waves, knowing that it'll be His love crashing over us as we venture into the unknown. I thought of the disciples as they bailed water out of their boat in Mark 4, while someone went and woke Jesus, asking, "Don't you care that we're drowning?!" The waves in that scene did not feel like love, but like utter abandonment, that Jesus could sleep at a time when the boat was on the verge of breaking apart and threatening to leave them all lost at the bottom of this lake. I also thought of Peter, who at Jesus request, walked on water. But then he saw the wind, and wind on a lake makes waves, and as the water moved under him, in an unsteady and unstable fashion, Peter became afraid, started to sink, and cried out for Jesus to save him. (Matthew 14) The waves here were uncertainty, and Peter was too far out to save himself from it. 

We can relate to the disciples in these accounts because we've all been there, right? When prayers go unanswered as it seems like our life is falling apart, or when our whole existence shifts from stable to uncertain and we just don't have the resources to save ourselves, what does bravery look like? It looks like knowing if He lets go, you will be washed out to sea, but having faith that He won't. It looks salt spraying in your face as another wave breaks against your chest with unexplainable weight and force, but knowing you're not standing in it alone. It looks like stillness in the midst of a chaos so deep, you would have no chance if you tried to take it on alone, and remaining confident that He is with you.

I can't tell you if my little one was afraid or not, but if he was, he didn't show it. What he did show was that he was confidence that as long as his Daddy had him, he was gonna be just fine. I pray that we all would have such confidence in our Abba, that we can be brave as long as we know He's got our hand.

Abba, thank you for giving us things in this world that display Your glory and explain Your truth. The ocean, shifting in it's peacefulness and ruthlessness has paralleled the lives of so many, where everything is fine one moment and the next, tragedy strikes. The waves of illness, job loss, ending a relationship and so many others can seem like we're being set up to be drowned. They are too high for us to navigate and too strong to stand against; being knocked into the sand again and again has left many of us weary, and bravery is the last thing on our mind. I ask that those in a season of rocky waves would sense Your powerful grip on them, and would be imbued with confidence that You will not let go, that You are not asleep and that they are not in their situation alone. I ask that the panic that comes with the salt in their faces would dissipate, and that faith would arise, that as long as You have them, that your grip is firm, and that they will be ok. Thank you for showing me what it means to be brave when called beyond our safe shores. In Jesus name, amen.

But it looks good...

I feel like as parents, especially of toddlers, half our job is just keeping them from hurting themselves. Like the other day, when a mug fell off the counter while I was washing dishes. Instead of just looking for the broken ceramic, I had to contain my son in his playpen before I could start cleaning. Since he had been asking anyway, I gave him a snack of some Kix cereal in a little bowl so he had something to occupy his attention while I swept the floor. By the time I was finished, he had taken his cereal bowl and dumped it, flinging it from one end of the living room to the other. I shook my head, telling him that he wasted good cereal and swept up the living room, the Kix joining the broken ceramic in my almost full trash can. I bet at this point, you can see where this story is going, but for those who can't, let me continue. I set my little one free, and he goes to inspect what happened in the kitchen. He decided to check the trash can, which he knows to stay away from, and found his cereal among the broken ceramic pieces. He picked a piece out and ATE IT! When I saw what he had done, I put my fingers in his mouth to sweep it out and he bit me, swallowed and smiled, completely unaware that what just happened could have been an emergency room visit.

What would drive my son to do something so dangerous, so disgusting, when he had been explicitly instructed to stay away from the trash can? Good question, and I think it's been asked of particular biblical figures as well: Adam and Eve.

Many have mused over why when given the entire garden of Eden did they decide to eat the fruit of knowledge of good and evil. They had been absolutely forbidden from even touching it, saying if they ate it, they would die. Some say it's because Satan tricked them, saying, "Certainly, you won't die," and they were deceived into believing God was holding out on them. I think it's a little more basic than that. The text says that Eve saw the fruit was pleasing to the eye, was good for food, and desirable for gaining wisdom, so she ate it and subsequently gave it to Adam. (Genesis 3:6) Like my toddler, Adam and Eve had no context for "you will die." She just knew it looked good and what she would gain from it immediately was good, so even though God said stay away from it, it couldn't have been that bad, right?

There have been many times in my own life where God instructed me to stay away from something, whether it was a relationship, a job, a ministry opportunity, and he didn't give a very long-winded answer as to why; just, "This is not good for you. Don't touch that." Much like my toddler has no context of the dangers of eating broken pieces of mug and trash with his cereal, and Eve had no context for the idea of death, I have no foresight as to everything else that comes with what I take on or take in. I can't know how this one situation will breed nothing but insecurity and bitterness and create death in my life. When I have acted in disobedience, I recognize that it's only his grace, holding me down and sweeping out my mouth to keep me from ingesting all the destruction, all the evil that is bred through that disobedience. Recently, I had to walk away from an obligation I took on a year and a half ago that looked good at the time, looked like I would be helping people, looked like God would be glorified, that has only created anger, disappointment, and brokenness. I didn't ask God how he felt about the situation, but acted impulsively, thinking, that looks like an excellent thing, when in reality, it had far more attached than I realized.

We all want to believe we know what's best for us, but in the examples of Adam and Eve and my own little one, we can see that's not always true. More often than not, we don't even know what's good for us, let alone what's best for us. I am the first person to ask "Why?" with full expectation that I should get an answer from whoever I'm asking (including God.) That said, part of obedience is receiving, "Because I said so." Now, I'm not saying that answer isn't frustrating, but the fact of the matter that there is plenty I don't understand or have context for, and even if God were to be gracious enough to break it down for me, I'll have no idea what He means. It's a particular kind of humility that allows for this, but the rewards for obedience are peace, fruitfulness, prosperity, and God dwelling in our lives. (Leviticus 26) That sounds way better than a snack packaged in potential death.

Abba, thank you for showing me how often I rationalize doing the wrong thing. It's easy to see what we want to see instead of everything that comes with our latest obsession. Help me take pause when I feel you calling me away from what appears to be a good thing, and remind me that you don't withhold anything from your children that they need. In Jesus name, amen.

Wait... that's not Mama!

We were at a Vietnamese restaurant grabbing a quick lunch the other day, and playing swordfighting with chopsticks. My little one was pealing with delight, but then his attention shifted to the other patrons walking through the door. Every woman who walked in, he was calling out to, "Mama!" I was taken aback by his attempt to grab their attention. "I'm right here," I would say. Quickly, I became frustrated. Many of you have read the account of when I was first endowed this title, and the pivotal moment it was for me. It felt as though something that meant so much to me was being given to others who had not comforted my son in the middle of the night, had not nursed him for 13 months, who had no actual interest in him. "They're not Mama. I'M MAMA!" He smiled at me, but kept hitting the table and calling out. I slumped back in my chair, deflated and sad.

And then I heard the still small Voice whisper, "And Lisa, not everything you cry out to is Me, either.

I gritted my teeth as soft expletives left my lips. Conviction doesn't feel good, but conviction that catches us off guard is probably the worst. Especially where I was feeling like all I wanted was my son's attention, and he was just freely calling out to anyone who would look in his direction, using my title.

I'm reminded in scripture of the Exodus, and how in chapter 13, the Israelites are rallied together, and expelled from Egypt. Then, in chapter 14, Pharaoh's army pursues them, and they cross over the river Jordan on completely dry land before the water engulfs the army, drowning them. And finally in chapter 15, Miriam and Moses sing about God's holiness and goodness to His people. This picture changes nearly completely by the time we get to chapter 32, where Moses is on top of Mt. Sinai talking to God, and the people approach Aaron saying, "We don't know what happened to Moses. Make us gods that will go before us (as they continued in the desert)." Aaron commanded they relinquish all their gold and fashioned a calf for them saying, "This is the god who led you out of Egypt." (vs 4)  He then built an altar before it and said the next day would be a festival to the LORD (referring to the calf.) The people then brought burnt offerings to it, and bowed down and worshiped before engaging in all kinds of revelry. (vs 5)

He actually used God's personal name to refer to this calf he fashioned with his own hands. This is the same Aaron that did wonders and miracles in the name of God as Moses' spokesman before Pharaoh. The same Aaron who woke up to the wonder of manna on the desert floor every morning, enough to feed the entire camp. The Aaron who was the first high priest, whose blessing we still pronounce as a typical benediction in services around the world.

Like Aaron, I have seen the hand of God move on behalf of many, and have heard Him speak directly into my life. I've been a part of His moving through the lives of others, in such a clear way. Yet I too have cried out for other gods to go before me as I trek through some of the hardest times in my life. I have worshiped at the altars of control and power, given offerings to worry and lust and cried out for direction from bitterness and resentment. Oftentimes, my prayers sound like I'm referring to God, but if they were scrutinized, it would be clear that I'm not.

Thankfully, the story doesn't end there. Though punishment did come for the disobedience, God relented in His anger, and restored Israel. Today, we live in a state of restoration, through a Savior whose desire wasn't to condemn the world, but save it, and did so by taking the offense of my sin onto himself. When I receive His conviction, it's His kindness leading me to repentance, as He knows idols made from my hands are only as powerful as I am, which isn't very much at all.

Abba, thank You for giving me a glimpse of Your frustration when I cry out to others for help, guidance or strength. Thank you also for gently guiding me back to pursuing Your voice in seasons where I'm not sure where You are, and I haven't heard a word in what seems like a long time. Give me the faith to believe that even when I'm not sure which direction You're coming from, that You are before me as I continue to trek through this desert season we're in. Let Your glory consume all others that would offer themselves in worship, that my family would live in a state of radiance from Your presence with us. Cut off that which would produce any doubt that Your love for us is endless. Thank you for using my little one to guide me back to you. In Jesus name.

The joy set before me

Life is not easy. I personally don't know anyone who would say it is, and those who are fortunate to have it "easier" usually have a pot hole filled past, and their present is just an illustration of triumph. That being said, I don't think anything magnifies hardship more than having a child. I have said often that I could live in a van, by the river, and work 3 jobs to make sure my bills are paid, but my son can't live that life. He needs stable living, and most days, I feel like such a failure that I struggle so hard to give that to him. I have a bachelors degree that I went $120,000 in debt to achieve, but I work at a job, that I hate, as a server, where I make less than $20,000 a year. We live, like so many others, on maxed out credit cards, paycheck to paycheck, with bills never paid on time, some months, not paid at all; Just so we can keep food on the table, gas in the car and make sure our son has what he needs. For the last 2 months, life has seemed overwhelming and dreadful. I haven't wanted to write, I haven't wanted to look for a new job, I haven't wanted to do anything, except binge watch Netflix. Everything seems too hard and like no matter the amount of effort I put forward, nothing will ever change. I have been resigned to hopelessness, and so many times, it makes me feel like I should just walk away from it all...

And then my son wraps his arms around my neck and gives me one of those big baby kisses, usually after meal or snack time. I think it's his way of saying, "Thanks Mom!" We usually turn it into a game, and in those moments, I find strength. His peels of laughter, with his content little belly shaking as I pretend to eat his thighs, give me immense joy. Enough joy to go to a job I hate. Enough joy to put in the 20th application this month. Enough joy to write this blog. His Hebrew name means Joy, and he is set before me, providing all the motivation I need to stay and grind out just enough hope to get through today. The reward I get just for being his mom is so much more than I could have asked for. Strength for today. Hope for tomorrow. Joy in the midst of suffering. Faith that it has to get better, because he needs better. Unconditional love, knowing he doesn't care if he eats oatmeal every morning. He loves oatmeal, and tells me as much with those sweet hugs and juicy kisses.

Christ's life wasn't easy either. When I first became a Believer, I didn't understand why He would endure such ridicule, shame, and suffering for me. If asked, I would have told you that I wasn't worth it. I didn't think anyone was. Now, thinking about it as a mom, I read Hebrews 12:1-3, and I totally get it. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter in what it means to walk this life. The focus of His life was not the job that He hated (Father, take this cup from me...,) or how even those closest to Him never really understood Him. It wasn't filled with resentment toward those who didn't appreciate Him (that's a big one for me,) and it wasn't founded with stress about where His next meal would come from. His focus was the joy set before Him. He could go to the cross because He saw our faces in eternity. Our peels of laughter and poured out expressions of our affection was worth too much too him to give up and walk away. The reward He gets from being our Shepherd is an eternity with those He loves most. For a parent, there is no greater thing.

It is my prayer that if you are in a similar place, as so many I know are, that you would find Jesus on your road. That the love and joy that we pour over our children would be beamed back to you, from His radiant face. That as you consider His love, and your place in His heart, that you would be strengthened, and not grow weary. I pray that we understand our value to Him, as we understand the value of our little ones, and that we would know the hope and victory that comes through perseverance.

Abba, thank You for pioneering this dark, foggy place I'm in. Even if I can't see 10 feet in front of me, I know You have already been there. I pray that you would continue to keep joy before me, that I might consider how I was the joy before Jesus as He endured the hardships He came across. I pray that as I focus on You, and throw off that which has hindered and entangled me that You would give me the strength to receive hope. Thank you for not only walking before me, but walking with me, offering comfort and promising victory. Heal my heart that I might believe what You say is true. In Jesus' name, amen.

Receiving the length and breadth of blessing

My birthday was about a week ago now, and a friend brought her 2 year old daughter over to play with my son while we spent the morning celebrating over breakfast burritos. I told her daughter she could play with whatever toys she liked, and that nothing was off limits. My friend, however, had her ask each time she wanted to play with a new toy. I know that she was being well meaning, and teaching her daughter good manners, especially when playing at someone else's home, with their things, but I stopped her and said, "Anything she wants to play with, is fair game. The toy box is hers." Still, every new toy, "Can I play with ____" came out of this cutie's little mouth. My friend smiled shyly as I sighed with both exasperation and futility. I know my son has lots of super fun toys, and it was my pleasure to share every single one with her daughter.  How I wish she would have trusted that I wouldn't change my mind. How I yearn for my word to be firm enough to play freely on, experiencing the breadth of joy available to her; that I so wanted her to have.

A few days later, the whole experience made me think of Abraham, when he was still just Abram, being told by God to go to the land of Canaan. He and his wife and nephew got up and went, building a couple of altars along the way, and taking a detour in Egypt where they accumulated so much wealth, Abram and his nephew (Lot) had to part ways. Lot settled in Jordan and Abram continued to Canaan. Upon arrival, the LORD said to Abram, "Look around from where you are, from the north and south, to the east and west. All the land that you see I will give to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count dust, then your offspring could be counted. Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you." (Genesis 13:14-17)

If you keep reading, you see that Abram wasted no time, and moved into the Hebron valley, pitched his tents and made an altar to the LORD. God's word was strong enough to provoke him to leave his place that he had known for 75 years on the promise that the land he would receive would sustain his offspring, of which he had none. It would have been rational for Abram to doubt God, and approach the whole situation with insecurity. Maybe he could have thought, "With all the wealth I accumulated in Egypt, I can just go back home and live out the rest of my days like a king! Why bet the farm on a place I've never been, and on offspring that I don't have?!" No logical person could find fault with that argument. Or maybe he would see the land and think, "Ok. God says all this is mine, but I'm just gonna take this small half acre over here, where no one will mind my presence, and I won't bother anyone, and in case God changes his mind, I won't be disappointed." Or maybe every time he realized his patch of grass had run low and his herds needed more, he'd present an offering and ask God if he could have more land. I imagine God saying, "Dude... I already told you, this is all yours. Stop killing the bulls." But he didn't make any of those arguments. Against all hope, Abram believed and so became a father of nations. Without wavering through unbelief, he believed God had the power to do what He promised. This faith is what Romans said is credited as righteousness to him. (Romans 4)

It is gut-wrenching when God calls us to receive the length and breadth of that which is glorious and nearly impossible. Insecurity seems to wrap itself around our heart and try to convince us that God isn't that good, or that it can't really be true, or tell us we didn't work hard enough for what we're getting. We coddle that insecurity and go back to God, time and again, asking, "Are you sure?" expecting Him to take it back. But that's not who He is, and that's not what He does. God always makes good on His promises, as there is nothing to swear by greater than Himself (Hebrews 6:13.)

So that job you just know God led you to, that relationship you prayed endlessly for, that pregnancy you cried out for but have kept hidden, and the healing you've only begun to taste as strength makes it's way back into your bones, walk the length and breadth of it, experiencing all that God has for you there. Like Abraham, against all hope, with unwavering faith, give glory to the One who has the power to accomplish that which He has promised. It will be credited to you as righteousness, and after awhile, you will receive your reward.

Abba, thank you for the unexpected ways you draw me close to You. Thank you for promising that if I ask for bread, you will not give me a stone. Thank you for the promise of never leaving or forsaking me. Thank you for the promise that I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living. Against all hope, with insecurity's talons wrapped around my heart, I praise You as the One with enough power to accomplish ALL that you say you will do. In faith, I walk the length and breadth of that which you have set before me, knowing you prepared it for me and me for it, and no matter what happens, You make good on your word. Grow in me the faith Abraham had, that will silence the timidity and fear within, that I might become a beacon of encouragement for others receiving and living the near impossible and wonderfully radical blessings You call Your children into. I ask in Jesus' name, amen.

I'm right here (Always)

My son woke up the other day absolutely hysterical. As I ran into his room, I noticed his eyes were closed, his backside was in the air, and he was rolling and wriggling around in his crib and he had no idea that I was only a foot away from him. I stayed quiet for about a minute to see if he would open his eyes, as that’s all he would have to do to notice my presence. Eventually, I whispered, “Hey… I’m right here.” He stopped crying immediately and stood in his crib, reaching eagerly for me. He cried out for my presence, and when he had it, he was fine, but it took him awhile to figure out I was there, because he was so consumed with feeling alone, he didn’t even open his eyes to look for me. I talk to a lot of believers today that tell me that they don’t hear from God or sense God in their lives. That maybe they heard Him at a retreat a few years ago, or maybe when they were younger, but even then, they’re not sure it was God. They’ve told me that they tried praying, but feel like they’re talking to themselves, so they stop. They assume that because they don’t hear something, or feel something, that God isn’t there.

We may not always tangibly sense it, but God is always present with us. In Isaiah, He says His covenant with us is that His presence will be with us always, and that His words are in the mouth of the descendents of that time on to forever. (Isaiah 59:21) And Jesus, before returning to the Father, left His disciples with these words, “Surely, I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) I think the word choice God used is so important for us to understand: always. Always is defined as, “every time; on every occasion; without exception.” Every time. Every Occasion. Without Exception. Let that sink in to your particular situation.

I think sometimes, God stands right behind us, to see if we’ll turn around, open our eyes and reach for Him, or if we’ll let our feelings of being alone or abandoned in our distress consume us. I was seriously 6 inches away from my son, but I’m sure if you ask him, I was nowhere, and he was in the dark, left alone for a long time. Some might ask why I didn’t immediately say something, or touch him and reassure him, but it’s because he knows my presence, and I wanted him to act on what he knows of my character and not what his feelings were presenting. God has proven Himself good and faithful, despite what my circumstances say, and when I can’t feel Him or hear Him, whether it’s because the noise is too loud, or the impending doom is overwhelming, I will turn my eyes until I find Him, because I can trust He is never far away, and usually, He’s much closer than I expect Him to be.

I know I make it sound easy, but understand, I know what it’s like to frantically search for God. During my maternity leave, I said, “We are so screwed,” more than anything else. The money wasn’t adding up, the bills were getting higher, calls from creditors more frequent, all while our needs continued to go unmet. It was hard to find God, but we did, and He was so close, with hands open and full of blessing and mercy. Even as I write this, I sense that some of you reading this are like the disciples in the boat with Jesus (from Mark 4), where the waves are so fierce, and the wind is so loud, and you see Jesus, but you aren’t sure if He cares enough not to let you drown. To you, I say God is always working things for the good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) Knowing that He is with you means you can trust in His strength, which is perfected in our weakness. (2 Corinthians 2:9)  

If you need to know God is with you today, pray with me that He would reveal Himself, and that you would learn what His presence feels like; That His presence would linger like the sweet smell of incense in your home, and that the weight of His glory would shadow you. And that as you become familiar with His presence, that His heart would be revealed to you, that He is for you, and His character is one who never goes back on His promises. He said He is with you always.

Abba, I feel like there is a wall between us, where I can’t tell if You’re there. I can hear a thousand times that you are with me, but it just doesn’t feel like it, and more often than not, I feel like I’m just talking to myself. But despite how I feel, I cry out and ask You to reveal Yourself. That you would open my eyes to see Your hand, and attune my spirit to Your presence. Mark me with peace, that You are with me, no matter how fierce the waves are or how loud the wind blows. Cradle me in Your presence that I might hear Your heart, and Your love for me. Create in me a faith that believes You are faithful to Your promises, and You promised to never leave me. Thank You for being faithful to me, and for never being more than an arm’s length away. In Jesus name.

If you prayed and would like to share what the Lord has done in your life, or if you would like continued prayer, please comment or send me a message. I love to rejoice in the work God brings through this, and pray for those it touches. May God continue to reach us through our children. <3

Restrained

If there is one part of every day that’s a constant battle, it’s bed time. My son absolutely hates to go to sleep. Some nights, he crawls up into my arms, lays his head down, and falls asleep, but even then, that’s usually somewhere between 10 and 11pm. Most nights, though, it’s an hour of screaming, coupled with being punched or scratched in the face, kicked repeatedly and having to restrain him until he finally realizes he’s just tired and gives in. I would say that last night was the worst night we’ve had to date. At one point, I actually had to swaddle him, and when that didn’t work, I finally woke my husband up and told him I couldn’t do it anymore. The night before, he'd gotten up 5 times, and last night seemed like an all night affair between the two of us. I wish I could reason with him, and just say, Hey! You’re just tired! If you close your eyes, you’ll fall asleep, and everything will be cool. He’s instead so focused on what he wants, he completely misses what he needs, and needs to be restrained in order to see the full picture.

When I think about the idea of being restrained, Jonah is usually the first person to come to mind. God requested that he go to Nineveh to preach to the people, saying that their wickedness wouldn’t be tolerated anymore. Jonah didn’t like the Ninevites, though, and knew that God would be merciful if they repented, so he decided to go the opposite direction. God saw Jonah’s disobedience, and sent a storm, which got Jonah thrown over the boat he was on, once the crew had discovered what he had done. God then caused a whale/big fish to swallow Jonah, swim to Nineveh and vomit him up there. In half hearted obedience, Jonah then gave the most lackluster sermon to date, but all of Nineveh repented and turned back to God. If you’ve never read Jonah, it’s 4 short chapters, and shows you the lengths God will take to get a message to his people.

You see, God had no problem restraining Jonah. There was a greater purpose, a bigger message, and Jonah’s prejudice couldn’t get in the way of God’s love. Jonah just saw what he wanted, and went for it. In chapter 4, he actually wishes death on himself, after he sees God’s gracious response to Nineveh. God asks him if he has the right to be angry, and points out that as His creation, He has great concern for the people and livestock of Nineveh, who numbered more than 120,000 who were so lost, they “couldn’t tell their right hand from their left.”

Sometimes, I wonder if I react to what God has called me to the way my son reacts to sleep and subsequently, the way Jonah reacted to being sent to Nineveh. I see very clearly what I want. It usually has to do with achieving my own happiness. Most recently, this has manifested itself in my desire to move back home, to NY. San Diego is nice, but it’s a hard place, where making friends hasn’t been easy, despite our involvement in our church, and where finding work that satisfied our obligations was virtually impossible the first year we lived here. I nearly had my bags packed when my husband received a job offer that we couldn’t walk away from. The same week, we had friends back in NY call us and tell us that God was saying “stay in San Diego.” But why? I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home. I want real pizza and bagels and a pint of roast pork lo-mein. I want to drop my little guy off at my mom’s house so my husband and I can actually go out on a date, which we haven’t done except for once since he’s been born. My little picture takes up my entire vision, and I can’t see the sense in being called to stay here. Unlike Jonah, I didn’t decide to make a break for it and see if God would chase me and drag me back, but I’m not suddenly pleased with this change of plans. I most certainly feel restrained and held down, but I don’t want to be a kicking, screaming baby nor do I want to deliver a lackluster, minimal effort for as long as we’re here. I try to keep in mind that God is not restraining me to punish or to hurt me, or because he doesn’t care about my happiness. Neither my son or Jonah are restrained so that they can be hurt or punished, but out of love; my love for my son, and knowledge that he needs sleep to be happy and healthy, and God’s love for Nineveh, and His desire for them to know His mercy. I’m praying for vision greater than what I can see and for an increased sense of purpose for being asked to remain here.

If you feel stuck in your current situation and don’t feel released to leave, or overtly feel called to stay but it’s not what your plan was, feel free to pray with me. God isn’t offended by our frustration, and the only way to let Him into it is to tell Him about it.

Abba, I feel held down. My heart feels disappointed and frustrated because I had so much invested in the vision of coming out here, and it hurt so badly when it didn’t realize and actively fell apart. I can’t see the value in being here, and some days, I just want to sit in the dirt and cry about how much I would rather be elsewhere. But I know the same way I hold my son in place is for his good, even though he doesn’t understand, You are not holding me here to frustrate me, but for a greater reason than I can see. Increase my vision so I can see Your hand, and reveal Your purpose so I might partner with what You’re doing, instead of sulking the way Jonah did. I trust that You love my family, and never call us to purposeless things. I give you the desires of my heart, believing that You will have them realized in Your time. Thank You for Your enduring faithfulness. In Jesus name.

Measuring Milestones

My tiny human turned 1 year old last week. As we looked back on his year, his nurse and I talked about what milestones he’s achieved in such a short period of time. Recognizing us, and being able to call us Mama and Dada. Sitting became rolling, and rolling became crawling, and just a couple months ago, he took his first steps. Now, we’re lucky if we can keep up with him. He’s learned how to throw a ball and if I hold my hand out, he’ll hand it to me. He’s also figured out how to use a phone, and in the most adorable manner, holds his hand to his ear or the back of his head when he hears it ring. Watching him grow this year, I am filled with amazement, and truly, have never been so proud of anything in my entire life.

While measuring his milestones, I’ve been in a position to examine my own life and see where I measure up. Disappointed, I heard myself sigh, “I thought I’d be further along by now.” This is unfortunately a sentiment echoed by many in our community. Friends who thought they’d be in ministry by now, married with children or in their dream career, all still grinding it out, day after day in the same thing they were doing this time 3 or 4 years ago. It’s disheartening, to say the least, especially when I see my little one growing and progressing so quickly. The desire for change, to go from crawling to walking to running, is ever present, but the belief in that ability tapers off as another year passes in my current state. I mean, I’m 30 years old, in a job I swore I’d never be in at this stage and a fear I had when I was 16 has paralyzed me to the point that I don’t have a driver’s license. I really thought I’d be further along by now.

If I were to imagine what the steps of my life life look like, I see lots of circles, loop-de-loops, and many, many turn-arounds. In some areas, I've taken more steps than I needed to accomplish simple things, and in others, I've left the briefest of imprints of just my toes in the areas my heart cries to dance in. In the middle of this, the LORD brings to mind a different picture through His word. He calls to mind that there are very few full body imprints on the floor in which I walk, indicating that since I have started to follow Him, that I may have dropped to my knees occasionally, if not often, but I have not fallen. He reminds me that it’s because He holds my hand, and makes my steps firm. (Psalm 37:23-24)

He also points out that the areas I wandered into, thinking “this could be fun,” and compares them to the the areas I was made for. The areas I was made for, whether it be in the lives of my dearest friends, or my marriage to the only man I ever saw myself having a child with, or even pouring myself out in thought and writing or cooking or worshiping, all have this deep, concrete foundation. These are things that no matter what stage of life I've been in, have endured. They have been tested and tried through blistering fires, and have come out reinforced. He reminds me through this picture that man will make their plans, but it is the LORD who establishes their steps. (Proverbs 16:9) It is His greatest pleasure to encourage me in the direction where I will be abundantly who I was created as. He leads me to these places by giving me solid ground in which to stand on and even when that ground shifts or doesn't look like what I expected it to, it’s substantial.

I'm not trying to say that having goals and desires are bad things and I would be a liar if I didn't mention that the procrastination my life is riddled with is directly linked to fears of failure, or fears of my life being invalidated through that failure. It’s probably about time that I get my driver’s license. It’s probably about time I start listening to the sound of my feet move on the sturdy places the LORD has given me to stand. Maybe you’re like me, and for as much as you want progress, it is terrifying to think you could throw yourself at something you thought would be awesome only to have it crumble to dust around you. If you’re in that place, I completely understand. A previously failed marriage, a business plan that my whole heart went into, that had the entire support of my community, rejected and every single missions trip I’ve been on I have gotten so sick or so injured that it pretty much ruined my trip and any impact I might have had. Failure is the worst feeling, and lays at your feet the question, “Why bother?” I’m telling you why, because there is always another opportunity, and every step you take leads you closer to the three most important goals in life: authenticity, maturity and wholeness. Maybe you’re like some of my friends, who have patiently waited for the opportunity to be fully you to present itself and it just hasn’t happened yet. I encourage you, you are in great company. Even Jesus waits for the culmination of bringing His bride to Himself. There are many verses in the bible which speak of waiting on or for the LORD, but all of them hinge on knowing one thing about God: He is faithful in ALL that He does. (Psalm 33:4) You have not been forgotten, and Jesus said that He came to give you abundant life. (John 10:10) Continue to walk in faith, following after Jesus, believing that He upholds the hands of those who walk with Him. I like the idea of adding an honest parent’s prayer. Whether you are or aren’t a parent, if this resonates with you, feel free to pray with me.
Abba, as I look at my little one, I am amazed at all he has done and can do in his first year of life. I am so amazed that to look at my own life, I feel so inadequate. My pride for him reveals the contempt I have for myself. Forgive me for holding such judgments against who You call me. Forgive me for letting fear of whether or not I succeed determine the value of my very existence. Forgive me for disobeying and not trusting You when You have lead me into what I see as treacherous waters. Teach me what it means to walk with You. Show me how my steps are established. Give me grace for myself. Conquer my anxiety so that I may walk confidently in the areas you have called me to and made me for. I declare that my life will not be settled by might, nor by power, but by Your Spirit. Thank you, Jesus, for walking beside me, regardless of where I step. You are mighty to save, Your love stands firm and Your faithfulness is established in heaven itself.

Lead us not into temptation

As he’s become mobile this last month, my little one has wanted to get into everything. There are 2 relatively forbidden areas of our apartment to him, being the kitchen and this one little corner in the living room that we have blocked off. The kitchen, for obvious reasons, and this corner because it has our lamp, end table, small trash can, laptop wires, and various other electricals. He has made it a full time job trying to get into these areas, and has created a full time job for me trying to keep him out. Just this morning he pulled the kitchen barricade, which we have made up out of producer style chairs, onto himself. We’ve tried boxes, large tote bins, chairs, and he always seems to find a way to pull them down or push them out of the way. More often than I like, I find myself yelling, “No! Stop!” or clapping my hands while saying, “Hey! Get away from there!!” He looks at me with sad eyes, juts out his bottom lip and lets a few tears fall. I don’t know if he’s crying because he’s not getting what he wants, or because he’s getting yelled at. Either way, it’s not fun.

Last night, he did something I didn’t expect. While I was in the kitchen making him dinner, the living room got very quiet. I came out of the kitchen to check on him, and found he had gotten something out of the corner he’s supposed to stay out of. Usually, it’s the laptop cord, where I end up taking it away and explaining to him that getting shocked would not be fun, while he turns in a circle and fusses at me, and then we move along. This time, he had gotten our stash of easter candy. We had kept it in it’s bag in this corner, and he was able to grab the bag through the tiny crack between our couch and chair, pull the bag as far out as he could, and grab the watermelon peeps that were open. When I turned the corner, there he was, both hands full of green marshmallowy goodness, chowing down on his found treasure.

“NO!!!!” I screamed. He opened his hand, and the marshmallow stuck. I snatched them away from him and not so nicely moved him away from the corner. He burst into tears, as if my love was being ripped away with the peeps he’d been holding a minute ago. I didn’t know what else to do that would help me finish his dinner, so I grabbed the playpen, and for the first time, put him in, turned on Sesame Street and begrudgingly handed him a toy. He looked at me confused, and reached for me. I coldly walked by him. I came in and sat down while his apples and carrots were simmering, and he reached for me again, and I said, “No. I have to get up again, and I can’t trust you.”

After dinner, I found I was still angry. I did what I could to get out of my funk, but I couldn’t believe his gall. He *knew* he shouldn’t be in that corner. What if he had gotten a hold of something foil wrapped? Would we have been on our way to the hospital? I was angry at all the could have happened’s and at his total ignoring of what he knew was wrong, and going for it anyway.

It was then that the LORD came to me and said, “You lead him into temptation.” “Umm, what, Lord?” He then brought to mind 1st Corinthians 8, where Paul speaks of not letting ones rights to eat what they want (specifically when it comes to food that’s been sacrificed to idols) become a stumbling block for the weak. He even goes so far to say that if it causes a brother or sister to sin. he would never eat meat again, in order to keep them from falling. (1 Corinthians 8:7-13)

It’s perfectly fine for my husband and I to eat easter candy. Every now and then we give our son a taste of our Lindt truffles or chocolate bunny (I know, our kid’s spoiled,) and I even shared a peep with him. But it’s not ok for an 11 month old to gorge on 3 peeps by himself. That said, by leaving the candy there, I set up a stumbling block for him, putting just out of arm’s reach what he wanted most, and then told him he couldn’t have it, and that it was mine. Looking at it now, it seems incredibly cruel. I apologized to him for yelling, and changed my mood to a playful one. After he went to bed, I found myself in a new kind of funk, where the anger wore off, and I just felt like a bad mom. I think all parents go through remorse after disciplining our kids, especially if we were harsh, or caused the reason for them to need discipline.

After sharing with a few friends, I sat before God and just prayed. He showed me that much in the same way my son is obsessed with his own way, I am mine, and He is able to set me back on track without screaming at me. He showed me the reasons I get angry so quickly at my little one, and asked me to repent for those ways. He gave me greater focus than being respected by an 11 month old, which just isn’t going to happen. It’s a very honest parent’s prayer, and if you’re ever in the same boat, feel free to take it as your own:

Jesus, help me to love my son in the midst of his ignoring me and following his own agenda, as You love me when I am going my own way, and you lovingly find me and set me back on the path. Teach me what it means to lovingly correct my child and set him on back on the path. Make it clear what he's trying to achieve and help me enable him to get what he wants without traversing into danger. Help me keep him from temptation, and forgive me for setting stumbling blocks before him. Forgive me for losing my temper and not directing him, but rather squashing him. Forgive me for being angry when he interrupts my self absorbed tendencies. Thank you for my tenacious, focused, curious, independent little one. Teach me how to be the best mom possible for him. Amen