Creating a Culture of Grace in the Home

January 20, 2014January 23, 20142 Comments

My dad was a military man whose father was a military man.

Sometimes, his boot camp methods made it home.

Like the time he woke us all up after we’d gone to sleep, lined us up in the kitchen while we were half-dazed from sleep still, and interrogated us (yelled) over who put the jelly jar back in the fridge without wiping down the outside of the jar first.

Or the time he put all us kids and a baseball bat in a bedroom and told us to fight it out until someone confessed to whatever horrible crime had been committed.

Or the many threats of polygraph tests and elaborate forensic schemes to uncover a culprit or that everyone would be punished severely until someone took the blame.

This was the discipline he knew, so this was the discipline he gave.

I’m a mom. I know the importance of discipline to direct the hearts and minds of our kids. I want my children to learn personal responsibility and the nature of consequences for poor decisions.

But I also know something else….

Our homes need grace.

Not parents who ignore the issues, or who are uninvolved or lazy and can’t be bothered, or who don’t want to follow through with training and right discipline.

Or spouses who give up, or grow bitter, and don’t care enough to talk it out and find a way to grow closer instead of grow apathetic.

No, this: Heaping portions of deliberate grace.

The urge is there, of course.

When my wayward cat dashes out the back door for yet another jaunt through the woods, we want to know….

Who didn’t shut the door? Who was the last one in the house?

Who is to blame for this?

A drain gets clogged and we want to assign responsibility.

Who isn’t following proper plumbing protocol?

Who is to blame for this?

Blame. We want to assign blame. We want someone to fess up.

But so often that just pushes the guilt around, and our kids tremble like Adam and Eve in the Garden, pointing fingers, making accusations. (This woman you gave me. That serpent who lied.)

She did it.

No it was her.

I only did it because she told me to.

Sometimes, truthfully, when we’re stressed and tired and overcome, it becomes less about lovingly correcting character. It’s needing an outlet for the anger of the moment and placing a cumbersome load of guilt onto the shoulders of a kid or even a spouse who’ll be crushed by the weight.

It takes a discerning mom to know the difference:

When to assign the consequences of loving discipline.

And when to hold a repentant child close….or one who simply made a childish, foolish, costly mistake….and whisper, “I forgive you. It’s okay. Now you know what to do next time.”

Jesus told his disciples:

Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously (Matthew 10:8 MSG).

In the NLT, I read:

“Give as freely as you have received” Matthew 10:8 NLT

And Paul said this:

And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ (Ephesians 4:32 HCSB).

The Message says it here:

Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:32 MSG

Don’t be stingy about this. Give mercy, give grace, give healing, give freedom, because I’ve given all that to you. I’ve poured it down in a shower of undeserved blessing on your heads, just drenched your soul deep-down with my love.

So, don’t dispense grace to others with rations of tiny drops or an insufficient trickle.

We’re grace-givers because we’re grace-receivers. We’re human. We sin. We say the wrong thing. We get snippy or react in frustration. We forget. We make a bad choice. We break things. We lose things.

Sometimes we make a right awful mess.

But I want to be a family that “does grace and second chances.”

That means correcting and instructing my children when necessary, delving in deep to the sludge of sin, assigning right consequences when needed and sticking with them.

Yet, it also means knowing their hearts well enough to respond when they need to see Jesus-grace in me. See how He forgave a mob of murderers screaming at the foot of His own cross. See how everyone needs mercy sometimes.

It’s not always assigning the blame that matters.

It’s about teaching them to make a better choice in the future.

More than that: It’s about leading them to Jesus.

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer and worship leader. Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness. Her book, Ask Me Anything, Lord: Opening Our Hearts to God’s Questions, is available now!
To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Greater, Book Review

January 18, 2014January 23, 2014Leave a comment

Greater: Dream Bigger. Start Smaller. Ignite God’s Vision for Your Life.
by: Steven Furtick

Steven Furtick’s book, Greater, wasn’t at all what I expected. That’s a good thing. It seems like most Christian books nowadays are about how to reinvigorate stagnant Christian walks and overcome the common, mundane feel of our faith. Everyone seems to know the one magic formula, catchphrase, object lesson, or key verse that will revolutionize your life and make you sell your house, quit your job and move to Africa as a missionary.

The trouble is that such books sometimes miss the value of the entirety of God’s Word by focusing on one tiny passage! They also often leave me disillusioned. If I’m not a missionary in Africa, does that mean I’m not passionate enough about God or that He isn’t Lord of my life? There’s not much hope then for a small-town mom of four young kids like me.

So, what is there left to say about being “Greater” that hasn’t been said by the fifty other Christian authors flooding the market with books on this topic?

It turns out, Furtick’s take is a little different. This book is based on a study of Elisha’s life, who we’re told in Scripture did twice the amount of miracles and had double the anointing of his mentor Elijah, but who we tend to talk about far less. With practical tips, encouragement, and stories from his own life, Furtick teaches how Elisha’s ministry involved sold out obedience to God even in the most everyday of activities.

The key here, as Furtick says, is: “Maybe God will call you to make a major life change. Or maybe He simple wants you to come at your present life with greater passion from a fresh perspective.” For the study on Elisha alone (including group study questions in the back of the book), Greater is a good read. And if God does open your life up and invite you to something new and fresh that He wants to do, well that would be even . . . Greater.

I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review and the opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Confident Faith, Book Review

January 18, 2014Leave a comment

Confident Faith : Building a Firm Foundation for Your Belief
by Mark Mittelberg

Confident Faith is one of those rare books for skeptics, new believers, and long-time Christians alike. Mark Mittelberg was raised in the church, but when he went off to college, he found himself grossly unequipped to deal with the difficult questions of non-Christians professors and others. Even when he returned to his home church and asked spiritual leaders to give reasons for their faith and arguments to support the Bible, they failed him. They could do little more than say, “The Bible is true because it says it’s true. Period. End of Story.”

But Christians need to be equipped to defend our faith. We need to be prepared to answer the hard questions when people ask them. Sometimes as Christians it seems like we avoid digging deep on faith issues because we’re afraid that the Bible won’t ring true and bear up under the scrutiny.

Mittleberg begins his book with a discussion of six general paths to faith, such as just accepting the traditions of the path, or going with what feels right, or assuming it’s all relative anyway. He examines the logic of each and argues for a more evidential approach. Following that, he presents 20 arguments that show how science and logic point toward spiritual truth. Along the way, he investigates the Bible, the Koran, the Joseph Smith papers for the Mormon church and other doctrines of various religions.

Some books that cover science, apologetics, and logic may be overwhelmingly dense and hard to follow. Mittelberg’s book, however, is an engaging and informative read–fun even at times. When you put the book down, you’ll be better equipped to understand your faith, share it with others, and defend it when necessary. For those who aren’t Christian, it may be an eye-opening read and a great way to really investigate the claims of the Bible and get some answers to questions you may be asking.

It’s When They’re Quiet That You Need to Be Worried…

January 17, 2014January 23, 20144 Comments

It’s when they’re quiet that you need to be worried.

That’s parental advice passed down through generations, usually learned from personal experience.

I learned my lesson, too.

My oldest girl did this thing when she was three years old called a “tantrum.” Maybe you’ve heard of them? Maybe you’ve seen one . . . or thrown one.

After a particularly rowdy tantrum on the car ride home one day, she stomped into the house still screaming, ran into my bathroom and slammed the door.

Unfazed, I took my time setting her baby sister down for a nap and tossing my keys and arm-full of papers and baby paraphernalia onto the kitchen counter. I breathed in deep breaths of Mom sanity.

Then I realized that the banshee wail had subsided into silence, frighteningly loud silence.

Throwing open my bathroom door, I saw my red-faced preschooler crouched on the carpet, her hands covering her head as she sobbed.

On the floor next to her was her hair.

Her hair!

Her long, totally beautiful, golden curly hair. In her rage, she had climbed onto my bathroom counter and dug through to the bottom of my makeup case where I hid the hair scissors. Then she had systematically snipped off the two pig-tails on the tip-top of her head.

She was bawling. I was bawling. We raced to the local hair salon and plopped her up in the chair for a rescue mission. Our superhero that day sported a comb and some clippers.

Sometimes we think silence means inactivity and stagnation, abandonment and loneliness, but instead it’s often a sign of focused activity.

With kids, that might mean trouble.

With God, though, as heart-wrenching and full of despair as His silence is, we needn’t fear the quiet. It’s often a promise that He’s at work right there in the middle of your circumstances, deeply involved in your life.

This was me not long ago. I thought I had it figured out, what God was doing and how He was at work and how He planned to bless and care for us, but I was wrong.

The thing about cramming God into boxes is that He shatters the confines of the cardboard.

So, when life didn’t go as I had planned, I cried out to Him: What are you doing? What does this mean?

Why can’t I hear You?

The silence is so oppressive and filled with overwhelming sadness. We just want to hear His voice, His quiet voice or His booming command, His encouraging cheer, or His tender whisper. Whatever He wants to say, we’re desperate to hear it.

Because we feel afraid.

I drove off that night on an arbitrary errand, alone in my car, praying away in the quiet. Then I hit the play button on the CD for our church Christmas cantata:

“Peace, oh my soul, weary from the struggle
Don’t be afraid, Love knows your deepest need.
There is a light shining in the darkness.
There is no shadow where it cannot reach.
Peace, peace, Jesus has come
O soul, be still, receive your King”

The song faded and one lone voice cut through the silence:

“The Lord is with you . . . Fear not, Mary ….For nothing is impossible with God….Joseph, fear not. Fear not! For unto us a child is born, to us a Son is given…Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy…Fear not! They will call Him Immanuel–which means, ‘God with us.’ Fear not, for I am with you”

My husband asked me when I flopped on the couch later, “Were you crying?”

How could I do anything but cry?

I had been desperate for the slightest trickle of His voice and He had drenched me in His Word.

But even when I didn’t hear Him, God was still there, still active, still with me. That hadn’t changed.

In his book, Greater, Steven Furtick writes:

God is often working behind the scenes of your life, orchestrating His destiny for you. Even though you don’t have a clue what He’s up to. Just because you haven’t heard God call your name or tell you specifically what to do with your life doesn’t mean He’s not conspiring great things for you.

Sometimes we feel like Job: “I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me” (Job 30:20).

But even in the silence we can hold to the promise:

As for me, I call to God, and the Lord saves me.
Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress,
and he hears my voice
(Psalm 55:16-17).

He hears you. And when He chooses to speak, the wave of His voice might wash over you and knock you off your feet and carry you to safety. For now, just keep listening, keep waiting, and don’t be afraid of the silence.

Originally published October 5, 2012

Made it to the bus with 30 seconds to spare

January 15, 2014January 23, 20143 Comments

“I think it’s Career Day at school today,” she announces.

“No, I think it’s tomorrow,” her older sister explains. “I wrote it in my agenda.” She pulls out the book as evidence and shows us where she penciled it in.

“See….Dress like what you want to be when you grow up…. That’s tomorrow.”

“Who told you it was tomorrow?” I ask.

“My teacher. She had it written on the board like this and I copied it in my book like she said.”

“Okay,” I turn to the other sister, “did your teacher tell you it was today?”

“No, but all the smart kids in my class except for me heard it on the announcements and they said it was today.” She lists the name of every “smart kid” in her class that she can think of. It’s a long list.

I turn back to the oldest girl. “Did you hear it on the announcements?”

“No, but my teacher said….”

We’re right back where we started.

Easy enough, though. We have the largest dress-up collection on the East Coast. (I really need to check into whether we can get into the Guinness Book of World Records or something).

I ask the daughter who thinks Career Day is today (as in starting 20 minutes from now when the bus will pull up in front of our house) “Okay, what do you want to dress up as?”

A magician. Or maybe a clown. Or maybe a rabbit who has his own children’s show and entertains kids on TV.

Magician it is.

I find the black cape. I scramble through the largest dress-up collection on the East Coast and find the hat (a little crushed perhaps, but still a hat). I shuffle through the magic kit and pull out the magic wand.

Bam. Magician’s outfit.

Then I fold it all up, pop it in the backpack and declare the solution to our entire morning crisis: If Career Day is today, you can wear the magician’s outfit today. If it’s not, keep it in your backpack until tomorrow.

I then zip up the backpacks, hand them to my daughters and toss open the front door.

It’s raining. I grab umbrellas and hand them out.

We make it to the bus with 30 seconds to spare.

Thirty whole seconds.

Because we’re awesome like that.

The sky is that curious ashen white of winter and the rain drips rhythmically on the roof as I flop down onto the sofa, cradling my baby boy close and holding my Kindle in the other hand.

I’m looking at dishes in the sink and the aftermath of the morning whirlwind of pajamas, blankets, ponytail holders, brushes, and more.

But then I open that Kindle up and there’s the Bible. It tells me right there that even when the world was a nothingness of empty void, “The Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:2).

Maybe that’s how I feel right then, like His Spirit hovers over the start of this new day. Like He’s present and waiting for the invitation not just to enter in, but to roll up His sleeves and create something beautiful–something “good”— in the middle of the noise and mess and all the busyness.

Yesterday, my four-year-old pantomimed what looked to me like an outfielder in baseball, dropping a mitt to the ground and snatching up a ball.

As she did, she said, “God scooped up the dust of the earth and “whooo” blew His breath and made man.”

Just like that, she says it, like the sing-songy rhythm of a well-choreographed routine.

I read it this morning again, “God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” (Genesis 2:7).

I take a deep breath, letting that air fill me up after the suffocation of the morning stress, and I pray—

Lord, don’t let it just be a day when Your Spirit hovers over my life. Breathe Your breath right into me and let me feel Your presence.

Because even on the hard days, the sad days, the crazy days, ,the hectic days, the stressful days, the fun days, the unexpected days….

You reveal the path of life to me;
in Your presence is abundant joy;
in Your right hand are eternal pleasures
(Psalm 16:11 HCSB).

And you know something else, His presence isn’t just the joy I need right here in the middle of a rainy winter day after a morning rush.

It’s this:

For the joy of the Lord is your strength (Nehemiah 8:10 NIV),

In His presence, there is abundant joy, and that joy is the strength I so desperately need.

Ask Me More: The Unexpected Ways of Grief, and the Expected Presence of our Savior

January 13, 2014January 23, 2014Leave a comment

Grief has a way of surprising you.

It’s the impish way memory has of trampling in all unexpected and unannounced in moments you least expect and on the most average of days.

It wasn’t ever my dad’s birthday or father’s day or even the anniversary of his death when the sadness came heavy.

No, it was when I walked into the fire station for my four-year-old daughter’s field trip years ago.

A dozen preschoolers clamored for a chance to scramble up into the driver’s seat of the fire engine. I sucked in my breath, blinked tears out of my eyes and then wiped them off my cheek, trying to look natural, like there was just dust in my eye.

My dad was a firefighter.

I explain this to someone else: that sometimes it’s not the days when you are most prepared for grief that are the hardest. But it’s the way an unexpected sound or sight or smell can usher in a memory that just knocks the breath right out of you.

She speaks wisdom in return: Better to have those memories that stir up grief than to completely forget.

Yes, how much better not to forget because, given time, Jesus turns those ashes right into beauty and surely we wouldn’t want to miss the sight.

Somehow even the pain and the tears become sweet when we bring them to Jesus and receive the memory not as bitter loss, but as a precious gift that He gives.

When Mary Magdalene sat outside the empty tomb of Jesus on Resurrection morning, she cried with hopelessness.

Grave-robbers. Defilers. Someone had been in there and taken the body of her Lord.

She still called Him, “Lord” even after she’d seen Jesus hang on that cross. Even when others might have been stunned by the failure of the man they thought was Messiah, still she believes at least this: He is still Lord.

Somehow she clung to belief and managed to carry it even with her sorrow. She held on tight to see what God would do.

After the disciples rushed into the tomb, saw the emptiness and ran back to others with the news. still Mary lingered outside the last place she’d seen Jesus. She “stood outside the tomb crying” (John 20:11).

It’s not to Peter or John that Jesus appears first. He doesn’t rush into the town to show the crowd His resurrected body.

He appears first to this weeping woman at the grave and asks,

“Woman, why are you crying?” (John 20:15)

Jesus met with her in her despair and asked her to bring the grief to Him.

Maybe her eyes were so cloudy with tears or maybe her brain just couldn’t comprehend the matter, but she thinks Jesus is no more than a gardener. So, she begs him to tell her where Jesus’ body may have been moved.

He stops her there, not just in her sorrow, but in her accusation and anger, and He reminds her of His presence by just speaking her name– “Mary.”

Did she recognize the way her name sounded when Jesus spoke it? Did He open her eyes to see what had been veiled before?

Whatever happens, she realizes it’s Jesus Himself, not some gardener laboring over weeds.

“Rabboni!” (Teacher), she yells as she worships a risen Savior. That becomes her testimony and her joy, “I have seen the Lord!”

And over time, slowly and without me ever knowing when it all happened, the memories I used to meet as a shocking reminder of loss have become like dear friends stopping by for a surprise visit.

I’ve learned, like Mary, that God is present even in the places of sorrow.

I think this as I plug in the record player a friend gave me last week.

She brought me this old technology in a brown carry-case and I’ve toted it home and placed it on my kitchen table. I pull out records that I couldn’t listen to before, ease one out of its sleeve and place it on the turntable.

The moment that needle dips down into that first groove, my kids come running to marvel over the mysterious sound.

We listen to some of my dad’s records, and for once I’m not tearful.

It’s sweet. Like the memories alone keep him present.

And I think, how precious that God walks us through the tears and reminds us of His presence even in the brokenness.

How precious that He calls us by name, that He knows our sorrow and even asks us to bring it to Him by asking, “Woman, why are you crying?“

Our Resurrected Savior wipes away tears. But even more than that, He gives us hope for a future that is forever and ever in His presence.

Want to read more about the questions God asks?
Check out my book, Ask Me Anything, Lord, available in paperback and for the Kindle and nook!

Ask Me More: I Don’t Really Need to Hear Who Had the Lego First

January 10, 2014January 23, 2014Leave a comment

Most days my kids get along like peanut butter and jelly. But some days it’s more like peanut butter and mayonnaise.

She thinks I really need to know that her sister called her a bad name and took the Lego that she needed for her Lego house.

Her sister thinks I really need to know that she had the Lego first and, by the way, she only called her a name because she called her a name first.

Pretty soon, everyone’s crying and shouting and interrupting each other with “nah-ah” and “ah-hah” and “I didn’t” and “She did.”

They’re waving their arms frantically at me as if that helps me understand the complicated chain of events that led to this sibling explosion.

Maybe a better mom than me could sort through all the noise to discover the instigator, the true culprit here, and the ultimate source of injustice.

Me? I’m not that better mom. All I know is they needed to stop fighting in my face, like, 5 minutes ago because it’s totally trampling all over my peace and happy, holy, Jesus-girl joy.

And what about minivan fights? I can’t even send them to separate corners because seatbelts have certain restrictions and even though these children are driving me crazy at the moment, I do actually love them and want them to be safe. So I can’t tie one to the roof or anything.

Pretty soon, I’m the crazy mom behind the wheel whispering the name of “Jesus” over and over again because there’s nothing I need more at that moment than some saving grace.

When we fought as kids, my own mom used to make us quote Ephesians 4:29.

Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear (Ephesians 4:29)

She’d interrupt the tattling and squabbling with, “What’s the Bible say?” And then, BAM, we’d have to quote Ephesians 4:29 at her. It’s pretty hard to keep on fighting while actively quoting the word of God.

It’s genius.

So, I’m thinking of making up some of my own verse cards. Maybe a little Ephesians.

Maybe this:

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! (Psalm 133:1)

And this one, too:

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another (John 13:34)

As it is, I’m giving the Mom-speech.

Show kindness. Give grace. Be gentle, slow-to-anger.

And, I’m thinking as I whisper Bible-truth to my daughters that maybe this isn’t just a lesson for my kids.

It’s a lesson for the church.

We have our own way of erupting into sibling squabbles and could there be any uglier noise to God’s ears than His own children battling it out?

My daughters seem to think that I really want to hear about their sisters’ offenses.

And maybe sometimes in the church we think God really wants to hear what’s wrong with those around us. We think we’re somehow doing God a favor, rooting out unrighteousness or hypocrisy, failure or imperfection.

Saul (who became Paul) did. He plowed through the New Testament church like a raging bull in a china shop, smashing to pieces any believers he encountered.

He was a murderer, a church-persecutor, thinking he was doing God’s will the whole time.

But when Jesus showed up as a blinding light in the middle of a highway to Damascus, Saul crashed to the ground and heard this:

“Saul! Saul! Why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:3).

It’s a stunning question, because Saul didn’t even know who this was. This was the resurrected Jesus he didn’t even believe in.

So, when Saul asked his own question, “Who are you?” Jesus gave the shocking reply:

“I am Jesus, the one you are persecuting! (Acts 9:5).

Persecuting Jesus? Nah. Saul was persecuting wayward Jews who were tainting the law. That’s what he thought.

But Jesus takes it personally when we hurt His people.

And sadly, so much of the time it’s His own people hurting one another with our legalism, judgment and in-house fighting, all in the name of zealous righteousness.

Instead of taking it to prayer, instead of confessing our own sins or showing grace, instead of overlooking faults or even speaking the truth but doing it in love, we’re making a horrible racket of hurting our brothers and sisters in Christ.

No, we’re not killing one another or sending each other off to prison like Saul did. But too much of the time, we’re acting out of self-righteous rage, not love.

And that’s just noise to Him.

So maybe God can ask us that same question when we’re all enthusiastic about condemning another believer.

Why are you persecuting ME?

Oh Lord, forgive us. We didn’t know that was You we were hurting all along.

Want to read more about the questions God asks?
Check out my book, Ask Me Anything, Lord, available in paperback and for the Kindle and nook!

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer and worship leader. Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness. Her book, Ask Me Anything, Lord: Opening Our Hearts to God’s Questions, is available now! To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

What My Three-Month Old Is Teaching His Mama

January 8, 2014January 23, 20144 Comments

I hear his sharp, startled cry.

It’s only been half an hour since I cradled him and tucked him into his baby bed for the night. This awakening is unexpected.

I slip into his room and its deep darkness. Even though I can’t see his tiny frame, I hear him squirming, kicking, tossing his face side to side searching for me and calling out for rescue and help.

The floor creaks under my footstep and he ceases the cries, lies still for a moment, just waiting for Mommy to reach in and scoop him up into arms that will soothe and fix and comfort.

He knows I’m there even though he can’t see me. And for the moment, that’s enough.

I lift him out of the bassinet, snuggle him close and rock from side to side, patting his back and assuring him that “Mommy’s here, baby boy. Mommy will make it better.”

Soon his muscles relax and his head droops down onto my shoulder. His breathing slows and deepens.

Still, I sway back and forth in the darkness and quiet, cuddling this infant blessing, not ready yet to move and let go.

And I’m thinking about this.

After just three months of life with me, my son calms simply at the creaking floorboards that announce my presence in the room.

But me?

I don’t have an infant faith or a 3-month experience with my Savior.

Thirty years into this faith journey, still I scream and thrash and demand attention and rescue even when I know He’s with me, even when He’s assured me of His presence, even though He’s never once failed or abandoned me.

I cradle my son and continue rocking back and forth as God reminds me:

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
Psalm 46:10 NIV

It’s not a verse about quiet times or somber worship. It’s a battlefield Psalm, written when circumstances crushed God’s people and their hearts were trembling. The Sons of Korah wrote a song to remind God’s people of this:

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1 NIV).

Ever-present. That’s what our God is. He’s with us. Even before He lifts us out of the pit, we can hear the creaking of His footsteps nearby and know He’s there in the darkness.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.

Therefore—-because He’s always there—-we need not fear, no matter what rumbles and falls to pieces around us. Even if the foundations of the earth shake, He is our unshakeable Foundation.

Indeed:

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress (Psalm 46:7 NIV).

So, “be still.”

Be still and know that He Is God. He will be exalted.

In the midst of any darkness, in any storm, in any crisis or struggle or pain, He will display His glory through the rescue and redemption of His children.

That’s me and you.

Those Psalm-writing sons of Korah say it again. Maybe they know we struggle to understand. Maybe they know that a three-month-old baby can trust his imperfect Mama, and yet we’ll fail to trust our perfect God.

So they repeat it for our stubborn, slow-to-learn shaky souls:

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress (Psalm 46:11).

It’s not just the earthquakes and battles that make me question His presence sometimes. It can be as simple as the overwhelming rush of my minivan life.

But there, yes, even there on the busiest of breathless days, The Lord is with me and it’s His presence that gives me peace.

As I lay my sleeping baby boy back down in his bed, I find myself singing an old hymn, a favorite that I’ve sung through some of the hardest times of my life.

It’s a song I’ll be singing all month long as I pursue the presence of Christ by being still and knowing He is God.

What songs do you sing when you’re scared or overwhelmed and need to know God is with you?

Be Still, My Soul
by Katharina Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below….

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last…

Why I’m Serving Up Spaghetti and Brownies for Three Kings’ Day

January 6, 2014January 23, 20142 Comments

I’m slipping ornaments and lights into Rubbermaid containers and packing the Christmas village into Styrofoam and cardboard today.

On the kitchen table, though, I place the three wise men from our nativity scene.

They aren’t glass or hand-carved from precious olive wood. I have four kids, after all.

Instead, they are three little plastic figures that my daughters have been playing with for five Christmases at least, reenacting the birth story of Jesus with unbreakable Nativity toys.

Tonight, the wise men take center stage.

My middle daughter announced this year that we should celebrate Three Kings’ Day on January 6th. That it was important. Necessary even.

She instructed us:

We must leave our Christmas decorations up until then.
We must have a special dinner with a special kingly treat.

I tried to ignore the pleading at first and then made futile attempts to explain that since January 6th was the day we return to the insane schedule we call everyday life, that perhaps we could skip Three Kings’ Day.

But no.

I did what any mom might do after that. I Googled it and Pinterest searched and Facebook asked about how to make this happen.

I read about traditional dishes like “pickled cabbage leaves stuffed with grouts drizzled with water and sauerkraut juice, ” “broccoli accompanied by crostini with chicken liver pate” and “stuffed ravioli with rich duck or rabbit ragu.”

I’m not loving this holiday.

But a friend speaks truth to me. It’s not about the menu. It’s about the family time and the celebration.

So, I let my daughter plan the feast: Spaghetti with King’s Hawaiian bread and brownies.

Slowly, this Three Kings’ Day or Feast of Epiphany captivates me as we celebrate men who abandoned it all to seek truth—to seek Christ.

I read that it’s not just the celebration of “three kings,” but the rejoicing in the Epiphany, the humanity of Christ, God in flesh. It’s the reminder that He’s not a cold and impersonal deity too far out of reach to care about the passions of my day-to-day heart.

He’s God come near.

God bent low.

God of compassion, who knows what it’s like to be hungry, tired, hurt, broken, sad, joyful, loved, and hated.

And I marvel at the magnitude of this, that when God’s infant Son cried out in a hay-filled manger, right there at the beginning of the salvation story, God sent the birth announcements to the whole world.

Not just to the Bethlehem natives. Not to the religious elite or the most righteous among them. Not even just to Jewish shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night.

For God so loved the world….

The whole world.

He sent a Messiah to the Jewish nation, but then announced redemption for us all with a star that Gentile sages could see and follow to find their Savior, as well.

These men, these watchers-of-the-sky, not so much kings as bookworms, as astronomers, as students and sages, they remind me to pursue the presence of Christ.

How long had they been seeking? They knew the prophecies, knew that a Messiah would come, knew where He would be born.

They knew when they saw that star in the sky that God was at work.

How hard it must have been to explain to wives, to family, to employers, to friends, to the people in their hometown that they needed to journey far in pursuit of a newborn King.

Sometimes I’ve imagined them following a star without really knowing why, without knowing what it could mean or where it would take them. Yet, when they arrived in Jerusalem, they pestered Herod with questions:

“Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him” (Matthew 2:2).

They couldn’t understand why everyone else could continue on life as usual when they were willing to rock their entire lives in radical pursuit of the Messiah. It was so clear to them. So simple.

See the star.
Follow it.
Find the Savior.
Worship Him.

Reality, though, can complicate the simple too often. Life gets busy. Radical seems too hard. Maybe the journey will cost too much. Perhaps I forget along the way whatever it was I was seeking to begin with.

Or maybe I’m too busy and distracted to seek at all.

The wise men saw that star because they were actively looking. Too often, I’m missing God’s presence because I’m not bothering to look.

But I’m reminded tonight that God comes near and wise men seek Him.

Tonight I celebrate these magi who pursued the presence of Christ with wild abandon and focused determination. And I celebrate the God who promised this:

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart (Jeremiah 29:13 NIV).

Have you ever celebrated Three King’s Day? How do you make it special?

Praying for Boys, Book Review

January 4, 2014January 10, 2014Leave a comment

Praying for Boys
by Brooke McGlothlin

When I like a book, I mark a few quotes here and there, when I really like a book I turn down the pages to mark whole sections, and when I love a book it ends up a worn and weary mess with turned down pages, highlighters, pencil marks and maybe even a few food stains. I really loved Brooke McGlothlin’s book, Praying for Boys, and after just one quick read my copy already looks like I’ve carried it through a battle zone. That’s okay. I intend to do just that.

I’ve been praying for my kids diligently for years, using books and my own way of praying through Scripture to commit them to God. But after having three daughters, I gave birth to a baby boy just a few months ago and Brooke McGlothlin is giving me a whole new way to pray specifically for him. She proposes using focused and determined prayers in the battle for boys’ hearts and minds.

The book itself is short with quick and easy to read chapters. She begins with a call to prayer, why, how, and when to pray. In response to specific questions she’s received on her blog (The M.O.B. Society), she even includes a chapter of encouragement and tips for those parenting alone. Following that, McGlothlin offers 21 prayer points for sons, including praying for their salvation, integrity, honor, and each of the fruits of the spirit.

The book can be read in one sitting (like I did last night), but then it can be used as a constant companion to prayer. The prayers are extremely short (one sentence long, maybe, and usually personalizing a Scripture verse in the process). That means I could use them all day, every day, in any way I can imagine. I could post a few up around my house and pray whenever I see them. I could join with a group of other moms and pray through them together for 21 days (she includes discussion questions at the end of each chapter to use for small groups). Anything goes as long as the book doesn’t just sit on the shelf gathering dust. It’s meant to be used and applied.

Along the way, McGlothlin shares parenting tips, Scripture verses, personal stories of both success and failure, a sense of humor, some grace, and her passion for praying for her sons. It’s a book I read in one evening while my three-month-old son played happily in his bouncy seat next to me, but it’s a book I hope to pray through many times in years to come.

Heather C. King – Room to Breathe

"He's solid rock under my feet, breathing room for my soul" Psalm 62:1-2 (MSG).

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Greater, Book Review

Confident Faith, Book Review

It’s When They’re Quiet That You Need to Be Worried…

Made it to the bus with 30 seconds to spare

Ask Me More: The Unexpected Ways of Grief, and the Expected Presence of our Savior

Ask Me More: I Don’t Really Need to Hear Who Had the Lego First

What My Three-Month Old Is Teaching His Mama

Why I’m Serving Up Spaghetti and Brownies for Three Kings’ Day

Praying for Boys, Book Review

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