What's in your mouth?

My 14 month old is usually really good at keeping things out of his mouth these days. Even really tempting little bits, like coins and small parts of toys find their way to my hand as soon as he picks them up. "Good job, buddy! You're right, these are not food," He beams at the praise and scampers away. Every now and then, though, I'll see him next to the couch, or under the highchair and I know he's eating something. "What's in your mouth?" I ask, and he'll hide his face, or run from me. Normally, it's a week old goldfish cracker or something from last night's dinner that got pushed off his tray that I didn't see when we cleaned up; something he knows is entirely edible, and he will fight me to eat it. Usually risking being bitten or kicked, I have to hold him facing the floor, squeeze his cheeks and scoop out his mouth. "Blech! We don't eat off the floor. This is yucky," I'll tell him, and even though he'll cry, I know it's better than letting him eat the old and likely gross stuff he finds.

A little over a year ago, I wrote about my big guy doing this as he'd just turned 2, and how instead of asking us for what he wanted, he'd settle for Crumbs, and if you wanted to explore how that relates to Jesus and his offer of abundant life, you can read that here. The difference in the kids is when I offered my big guy good food, he'd lose interest in the crumbs, but my little guy will fight to keep what he has. I don't know if he sees equal value in what he finds and what I offer or if he just has a sense of "This is mine," but he doesn't give it up willingly or easily and once I get something in my mouth, neither do I.

Some of what's in my mouth, the words that linger on my lips, is absolute garbage. Leftover phrases from darker days in my life that even said in exasperation, are awful. I think we all have those habitual sayings and autopilot phrases that we respond to the world around us with. Whether it be a resigned, "That's life," an angry, "I don't need anybody," or a controlling, "I have to figure this out," our words dictate not only the lens for how we see our reality, but also how we will engage with our circumstances and the extent we let the Father interact as well.

Joyce Meyer says, "The words that come out of our mouth go into our own ears as well as other people’s, and then they drop down into our soul where they give us either joy or sadness, peace or upset, depending on the types of words we have spoken." (Words and Your Life) This conclusion is directly drawn from Proverbs 18:21, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat it's fruits."

Now I want to make clear, this is not the same as the power of positive thinking, or a name it and claim it theology. This is a recognition that "our words are containers for power, and can carry our faith to the Kingdom of God where angels are released to help us or carry our fear to the Kingdom of darkness and release more trouble in our lives." (Joyce Meyer, The Power of Words.)

In the context of being a parent, I get the power of words, and how a child can be empowered or absolutely decimated with them; the principal of creating life or death in their heart and the effect that will have on their world and yet I don't apply the same to myself. Things I purposely don't say to my sons I will tear myself down with all day, and instances I would tell them to be courageous in, I guard my fear like it's some beloved pet. I would hope to teach them that it's ok to not be in control of every aspect of life all the time, but I am someone who will (ridiculously) position myself in every facet of a situation for the sake of my own sense of security.  Often, by guarding and excusing my faithless, destructive language, I find my circumstances riddled with heartache and trouble I spoke into existence, while my hope sits somewhere buried in the recesses of my heart, and the Father's hand is no where to be found

I want my son's mouth to be full of good things because then I know his body will be properly nourished. When doubt, anger, anxiety, etc spill from our lips, it's a sample of what our soul is fed, as Jesus said from the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks (Luke 6:45.) The Father desires to give good gifts to His children, and act on our behalf, showing His glory and mercy in our lives, but  we can't receive that which will sustain our souls if our mouths are already full. 

What is the Father asking you to spit out today? What is the hard, medicinal, thing He's trying to put in your mouth, which might not initially feel right, but you know is good? What healing do you need that will remove the barbs of a once outer voice that became an inner voice? Let me know in the comments or shoot me a message on how I can pray for you. Our Father is good, and wants our language to create and reflect a full, flourishing, abundant life for you.

Mud Slinging

I don't go to the park with my kids. Don't worry, my husband takes them because he gets it. Honestly, I just can't negotiate other people's children. I'll never forget the time a 5 year old went up to my 3 year old who had been playing at a voice amplifier and started screaming, "Shut up!!" That same day, a little girl did the super unsafe act of going down the slide face first. Both instances turned into me going up to my son, who attempted to emulate the bad behavior, and while staring down the other child said loudly, "No buddy, we don't say/do that. I don't care what ANYBODY else's kid does, we do not act like that." I looked around the park to see what checked out parents these kids belonged to, and was met with eye rolls and a caption bubble above their heads that said, "Come on, lady, we're on a break."

In that moment, I saw this behavior as muddying up my kids, and I couldn't believe other parents didn't care. If my boys were slinging mud at other people, I would address it right away! As I followed after my toddler, playing with him so he didn't need other kids, I heard the Holy Spirit speak into my analogy, "If your son really had mud thrown at him, would you address him, or the kid who threw it first?" OF COURSE I would tend to my child first! What kind of question is that? "What if he screamed 'Don't worry about me! Get them!" My heart would break for him, but I would still clean him up first. I realized where this was going, and it's not a place I let God go often.

For someone who is a Christ follower, I'm really bad at forgiveness. If we're being real, I know moral humanists who are more forgiving than I am. Most of the people I had to forgive as a child were repeat offenders, not safe and to continue attempting interaction with them lead to further damage to my heart. Absolving them from judgement seemed like the most nonsensical thing I could have imagined. Now if you're like me, you've heard people say, "Unforgiveness is like a poison you drink hoping it kills someone else," usually with the caveat added that the people who have done wrong against you don't care. I never understood that; unforgiveness for me felt like that magic bubble I wrapped myself in so as not to be subjected to the bad behavior of others. In the park, though, the Holy Spirit showed me I was that child, caked in mud, pointing at her offenders, screaming to be vindicated.

How my Mama heart broke for the picture of that little girl! I examined the mud smeared into her hair, across her mouth, caked into her shirt, splattered on every part and just wanted to wash her in the biggest tub with the most luxurious bubbles and comfort her while restoring her beauty and glory. I thought about the Holy Spirit's question with my 3 year old as the example, and if he spit the vitriol that I had heard come from my own mouth, I would be devastated, because he would be telling me to do something that as a parent I could not do: Make his healing second to revenge. Throwing another child into a pit wouldn't wash the mud off of mine, and while I understand that in context being a mother, I hadn't understood it in context of being a daughter of my Father.

About a month before Easter, I shared this little vision with some friends, who offered to pray with me, and lead me through washing off the mud. It took me 2 hours to forgive 8 people. The last few, I literally wanted to crawl inside of myself, hide under a table, do anything except continue because I had seen unforgiveness like a protective barrier for so long that as I let it go, I felt so unsafe, more so than any time I can remember. I struggled to breathe as the last matted pieces were brushed out but when I finally felt like my head had come above the water, I was clean. I looked at myself for the first time in years and didn't feel defined by this calcified hate. In no way did I forget what had been done to me, and the process didn't remove any physical boundaries that were absolutely healthy to maintain with those who've proven themselves untrustworthy, or make what had happened to me suddenly okay, as I thought forgiveness would do. Instead, I had let my Father bathe me in love and confidence, restoring beauty and dignity. I let myself weep for the wounded little girl I was, and received the comfort vengeance wouldn't have given, my tears washing away all signs of compressed anger.

Isaiah 61 says that God bestows a crown of beauty in exchange for our ashes, the anointing of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. He calls those who receive such oaks of righteousness, planted by the Lord, for the display of His splendor. I felt strong in my bubble which slowly grew into a fortress, blocking out even the possibility of being hurt, but I was made to display the healing glory of God. I don't feel as strong anymore, but I feel clean. I feel free. I feel radiant and I feel more equipped to handle how to love my sons when someone actually does pick up a dirt clod and throw it at them. I hope to see you in that same display of brilliant restoration and would love to pray with you if you need help washing off.