Becoming like little children

I've officially been on maternity leave for 1 week, and the experience has been mostly wonderful. It's been nice to lay down when I feel like my body is telling me it needs to rest, to play all afternoon with my firstborn and even take part in family nap time. One unintended consequence is that I think my son has been completely thrown off by Mama being home all the time, and Daddy picking up extra shifts at work at night. The last few days, he has pushed every boundary, and the other night was literal hours of "no," "stop," and "don't!" We even went to bed early because I was done; I just could not yell anymore, take one more thing away from him, or attempt any other distractions. That night, I went to bed frustrated, telling my husband that I don't know what's gotten into him, and I'm not sure what to do, especially if his behavior continued. The next morning, I was woken up by a tiny voice shouting, "MAAAAAAMA!!" "Yes Baby," I said from the next room, before seeing he had escaped from his crib and was making his way toward me, beaming this ear to ear smile. He extended his hands upward and I pulled him onto my bed, and he laid down to cuddle. He jumped and laughed, hugged and kissed, and I was so grateful that the hellion I had put to bed had disappeared into the night and my sweet little had woken up.

In that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit remind me of Jesus' words, "Truly, I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven." (Matt 18:3) Many have speculated as to what He meant by this, whether it's the inherent trust children have, or the faith they can contain, but I learned a few other things from that moment:

Little children keep no record of wrongs. My son didn't wake up thinking about the frustrating night before, or recalling everything he could have done better. He woke up thinking about the usual things our morning consists of: wakeup hugs, his cup of milk and Sesame Street. He woke up with the expectation that life was going to be as it usually was, where he is received, lavishly loved and has his needs met. For me to become like a little child would be to wake up without the regrets of yesterday, and not beating myself up for what I did or didn't do. It also means not borrowing tomorrow's anxieties and worrying about what I have to do today to ensure my comfort tomorrow. It means meeting my heavenly Father believing that He loves me, that He is generous with His presence and that He wants to meet my needs. It's seizing the blessing of a new day and the blank slate set before me. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

Little children don't expect constant punishment. My son didn't wake up expecting me to be angry. As a matter of fact, he didn't expect me to be angry 5 minutes after he was punished for doing the same thing I asked him not to for the 15th time. Discipline is the least favorite part of parenting, but like the writer of Hebrews says, we discipline our children for a little while, as we think is best. The verse continues, saying, "God disciplines us for our good, that we might share in His holiness" (Heb 12:10.) That said, I can't tell you how many times something goes wrong in my life or in the life of someone I know where the immediate assumption is that we are being punished for something that we have to figure out. To become like a little child is to accept the chastisement of our Father, and understand that while it's not going to feel good at the time, it's not meant to last long, and that He disciplines those He loves. It's throwing off the notion that God is an abusive Father, who is still angry from the night before, and that we need to do more to show Him how sorry we are. His character is such that for His own sake, he blots out our sin and remembers it no more. (Isaiah 43:25) We were never meant to expect to live under punishment.

Little children are going to stumble again. Maybe this lesson was learned later in the afternoon, but part of being a little child is pushing boundaries; is doing the wrong thing and being corrected over and over again. Their lack of perspective keeps their focus on what they want, regardless if that's a chef's knife purposely kept out of reach so they don't hurt themselves. There are many times in the Old Testament where God sounds like most parents, asking the Israelites, "How many times do I have to tell you?" That said, He never stops telling them. He never stops showing up with the grace necessary to mold them into becoming His people. God never throws His hands up and says, "Fine, I don't care what you do anymore." He is invested in us, even when we're headed in the wrong direction, and will leave the entire flock to rescue us from our moment of trouble (Luke 15:4.) The expectation to our children and to us is grace. Grace to push, grace to fumble, grace to fall, and grace to get back up and try again. 

I pray that as we become like little children, embracing the lavish love of God after our bad days, owning when we're being chastised and the lessons that come with it, and living in the grace necessary to stumble, that we are made more and more into the image of His likeness. May you be set free from any guilt of the past, and embrace the overflowing love of the Father, who never tires of showing up and setting us right.

Do this now!!

My son has a new habit of when he wants something, he'll grab my or my husband's hand and guide it to what he wants. Books, bubbles, turn this toy on, fill my cup, get me food, all communicated by grabbing our hand and putting it on what he wants us to fulfill for him. If we don't immediately, he'll obsess over getting us to do his bidding, continuously moving our hand back to the object of desire and within a minute, throw a full out fit. I've written before on how I wish he felt like he could trust me with his needs and wants and how I'm not holding out on him, but it seems even now, at 21 months, he has no sense of security in my nature; no assurance that I always want what's best for him, and yes, that I want him happy. I wonder why this is, since he's never gone without having his needs met, but I think it must be that in the moment of desire, that's all he can see. It is the loudest voice in his head, the most urgent alarm in his heart, and it demands to be satisfied immediately.

The disciples experienced something similar with Jesus, in Luke 8, where a squall came over the lake they were crossing and in a moment of panic, they woke Jesus, yelling, "MASTER! WE ARE PERISHING!!" It is obvious at that point they did not know the full extent of Jesus' power and ability, though they had seen him raise a boy from the dead, heal many people and even bestow forgiveness to a paralyzed man upon restoring him. They had no assurance that Jesus had their best in mind, no sense of security in his presence. Whether or not Jesus was in the boat with them, they were going to die, or so they thought. Jesus sat up, rebuked the wind and waves and then turned to his friends, asking, "Where is your faith? I recently learned that the word faith can also be translated as trust, and Jesus may has well have been saying, "Why don't you trust me?" The disciples looked at each other with fear and amazement, saying, "Who is this man, that even the wind and waves obey him?"

In truth, I had no intention on sharing my current struggle with this, but felt the need to in the interest of full disclosure. Much like my toddler, despite all the evidence that proves otherwise, I feel as though I have no assurance, no security in Jesus' presence with me. More often than not, I say that His presence isn't what I want, but His intervention. I just want bad things to not happen, and I want the plans I come up with to be honored and blessed. I'm like my son, guiding the Father's hand to what I think I need most and say, "Do this now!" In those moments, those needs consume all of my focus and I am completely unable to see where He has come through in the past; I declare that God has abandoned me before taking resentful control of my situation, and walking away in a huff, deciding if God won't give me what I want, I will get it myself. Usually, this ends with a friend or two expressing concern, and pointing out all the places God has provided my daily bread, and even if I had to wait, or if things didn't go the way I planned, that He has come through. They encourage me to see the forest for the trees, take a step back, and remember that for every urgent matter that has come up in my life, God has continued to deliver me. And you know what? None of it makes me feel any better about what God isn't doing right this second. 

I share this with you because I don't think I'm alone. Trust is hard in any relationship, and it doesn't seem any easier when life has been disappointing, when prayers have been met with silence, and when our best plans blow up in our faces. The reason we have such a hard time trusting God is because He doesn't offer security beyond His presence. "Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid, for the LORD your God goes with you wherever you go," "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you," "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me." (Deuteronomy 31:6, Isaiah 43:2, Psalm 23) Throughout scripture, His promise to us in the midst of trial is his very self. When most of our needs are so tangible, presence doesn't seem like it's enough, but I think that proves Jesus' point that much like the disciples, we don't understand who's with us.

I know I usually end with a prayer, but this time, I ask that you would pray for my family in this time. Faith (certainty in what we do not see,) and Hope (confidence in what we do not have,) are not satisfying the urgent cries of our hearts, and while our church is engaging in their yearly Leap of Faith, where we go to God with what matters most to us, my husband and I are looking at our lives, asking where God fits into anything right now. My friends have been faithful in pointing out blessing after blessing in our lives, and the alarm that screams, "Do this now!" overrides their voices. I feel resentful at being built so resourceful, and even though I can see the manna on the ground for today, I am angry that there is only enough for this moment, and I am consumed with worry for what the next moment will demand of us, while looking at depleted bank accounts, cupboards and strength. If you are in our boat and can relate to what we're experiencing, I'm sorry. I can only say that I hope and pray that we are proven wrong in the most magnificent way imaginable. But if you are firmly planted, looking at our situation from dry land, remembering what it was like to be in the midst of the storm, please keep us in your prayers, that we would trust that in His presence is the fullness of joy, and at his right hand, pleasures forevermore, which He desires to give to us. Thank you.

What's in a name?

As we are rapidly approaching the coming of my second son, my husband and I are narrowing down what we want to name him. Both names are unique, straight from the Old Testament, but one is so uncommon, it is almost unheard of. We like them both, and think they compliment each other, but are unsure as which  name to use first. In trying to choose, I started thinking about studies I've read that say people with less common, more ethnic sounding names tend to experience discrimination in job placement and salary assignment, and I don't even want to think about the sheer cruelty of children toward anyone who's "different." The more I thought about it, fear welled up within my heart, and felt responsible for shielding my son from this reality. Is it wrong? Absolutely. Should I have to worry about potential future hate? No. Does this actually happen? Yes. So I've been terrified that in picking a name we love, we would inevitably handicap our child and make him part of a fight he might not want a share in.

I explained all of this to a friend at work, and she asked me, "Where's your faith? Are you trying to build your son's identity on fear of this world or on faith that, like this name suggests, God hears him, loves him, and will take care of him?"

Conviction punched me straight in the gut with that question, but she was absolutely right. I have been focusing on creating an identity for him that is world-proof and not giving much consideration as to how God would play into his life. As I thought about it, I realized it's something I've done for myself as well, and a common theme society pushes on us to embrace.

One of my pastors recently taught in our adolescence, we develop a sense of self that includes the opinion of the collective. We get labels, surrender what makes us special, and attempt the common goal of community void of conflict. I find many of us continue that trend into adulthood, even into the church, some not even remembering what makes them special to begin with until they are hit with their first major existential crisis, forced to ask, "who am I and why am I here?"

The Bible identifies us as many things, very few of which are world-proof. Salt of earth, Light of the world, Chosen people, royal priesthood, holy nation. (Matthew 5/1 Peter 2) Co-heir, Conqueror, Filled with the fullness of God. (Romans 8/Ephesians 3) are just a few examples of an exhaustive list. To walk around and live as though you carry the very spice and essence of life, created to bless others through a power that is not your own, with belief that you are able to combat and conquer anything that comes against you is brazen in a way that makes many of us uncomfortable. "What if the Bible is wrong?" "What if I can't be that?" "What if I'm ridiculed?" A Christ-identified life butts up against our world-proof identity and leaves no space to exist with a foot in each. 

Jesus, in the book of Matthew, says, "The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness! No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money." (Matt 6:22-24) I know Jesus used the example of money here, but I think we can replace that with a couple of other things and still get the spirit of what he was saying: fear, self, man. If we choose to live in a way that bows to fear as opposed to faith, that is devoted to self promotion instead of sacrifice, and loves the opinion of man instead of the opinion of God, it means our eyes are not healthy, and that a great darkness blankets the truth of our reality. 

I think it's human to create world-proof identities for ourselves, for our children, and to expect them from society. There is a strong allure to a conflict free, self fulfilling, promoted existence. But we are given a new mantle, a greater purpose, an opportunity to live interactively with the God of the all creation. The truth is we can't have both. Either we will trust that God loves us, hears the desires of our hearts and will take care of us or we will trust in our self made abilities and that the zoning we create around our souls will keep us safe and happy. I can tell you from experience that as risky and terrifying option 1 seems, option 2 never works. I pray that you will be filled with faith to jump into the arms of Abba as you live the life Christ has called you to, believing he'll catch you and never let go.

Abba, thank you for giving me this little life to steward, and for already using him to highlight where I fall short. Help me to trust You with who I am, and receive the name you've written on my heart, and call me when we're alone in the secret place. Break down the zoning I've built to keep me safe, and give me the faith to live audaciously. Cast out the darkness that has blinded my ability to see the truth of my reality, and fill me with the light You have called me to be in this world. I surrender my fear to You, and ask you to drive out the doubt that I am anything less than what You've called me to be: Chosen to be a co-heir with Christ, filled with all the fullness of God; A dearly loved child, called to be an example in this world of how far You're willing to go to restore Your creation to Yourself. And where I continue to struggle, help my unbelief. In Jesus name, amen.