Tag: devotions for moms

The Picture of #AnywhereFaith

10 Comments

AnywhereFaith 1

A few weeks ago at the height of summer, I took my kids to a local water park for the day.

My older girls were slipping down water slides while my two-year-old son and I hung out in a splash area for little kids.

While we were there, I prayed for God’s help as I prepared for the October release of my new book,  Anywhere Faith: Overcome Fear, Insecurity, and Excuses and Say Yes to God. 

I asked God to give me a picture or story to share with others that described what it meant to have “Anywhere Faith.”

At the water park that day, my son, Andrew, found this one particular slide he just loved.  He would climb up the steps, wait in line, slide down, and then run around to get back in line and do it all over again.

But he wasn’t always waiting his turn.  If he thought one of the kids in front of him hesitated for even a split second, Andrew would nudge his way forward and slide right down.

His two-year-old brain was probably thinking: “if you’re not going to go down right now, I sure will!”

Since I want my son to learn about waiting, patience and taking turns, I stationed myself up on the slide platform to make sure he didn’t get in front of the other kids.

That’s when I saw the “Anywhere Faith picture” I’d been praying for.

A little girl, maybe two years old, had discovered the same slide as my son.  She was decked out in her little polka dot bathing suit with frills around her waist and her hair pulled into a tiny ponytail.

Her daddy walked with her up the steps and waited with her while the other kids slid down. Then, just as it was her turn to slide, he’d run back down the steps and around to the bottom so he could catch her.

In the meantime, she positioned herself on the slide, laying down on her belly, feet-first (so she couldn’t even see the bottom) and gripping the top of the water slide with all her might.

She hung there for a few seconds, waiting and waiting and waiting.  No way was she letting go before her daddy was at the bottom of the slide.

Then, she’d hear her daddy say, “Okay, Abby, come on down!”

That was her cue.  Immediately, she let go and splashed down to the bottom where he was waiting to catch her.

When I was a teenager, I discovered a poetic prayer written by the missionary, David Livingstone, that began like this:

Lord send me anywhere,
only go with me

I copied the prayer into the cover of my Bible and truly meant that with all my heart.  I’d go anywhere. anywhere-faith

Of course, God has certainly changed any plans I made as a 16-year-old girl.  He brought me to unexpected places of ministry and service for Him.

I definitely didn’t know as a teenager where my “Anywhere” was.

But I’m still just like the little girl who splashed down a water slide backwards because she knew her daddy called her to come and was there for her.

when God calls my name, I want to let go of anything holding me back and follow him anywhere he asks me to go.

David Livingstone knew He needed God’s presence in order to live in faith.  “Lord send me anywhere only go with me, ” he prayed

That little girl on a water slide knew she needed her dad’s presence so she could let go.

God’s presence is what we need, too, in order to have the faith to follow Him whether it’s around the world, across the street, or in our own homes.

When we remember that God never leaves us nor forsakes us, that He stays with us and walks us through the hardest seasons and the toughest days as well as the everyday and the mundane, we can have the faith to follow Him anywhere.

Sometimes there are things holding us back.

Maybe we’re not sure we heard His voice correctly.

Or we’re afraid of what others will think.

Or perhaps what God is asking us to do doesn’t fit in with our perfectly good 5-year-plan.

That’s okay.  Having Anywhere Faith means trusting God with the honest needs and struggles of our hearts.  We don’t have to pretend to have it all together.

Instead, we tell Him the truth:

“I’m scared.
I’m confused.
I’m worried.
I’m insecure.”

But we also tell Him this:

“I want to be where you are, God.  I’ll follow you anywhere because anywhere with you is better than any place I’d go on my own.”

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you (Psalm 56:3).

 

This is for you

7 Comments

romans-8-16

I had been preparing him for at least a week.

“Andrew,” I’d say, “the girls are going to go to school soon.”

And he’d nod his in agreement as if we were totally on the same page here.  “Yes. Andrew goes to school.”

“No, babe.  Andrew stays with Mommy.”

“No, I go to school with Catherine!  I go on the school bus.”

I explained it.  I corrected him.  I tried to make sure he’d really understand.

But of course he didn’t.

Tuesday morning came, the first day of school.  We strolled out to wait for the school bus and snapped some “first day of school” photos.

He wore his own John Deere backpack and looked eager to fit in with the big girls, posing for the pictures with everyone else.

He didn’t ask why we were hanging out in the front yard.  Why we stood around wearing backpacks and watching the road.  Why I placed a hand on each of my daughters and prayed for them.

Then the bus arrived.

I scooped him up and held him as he slowly and fully realized the situation.

“No!!!  I go to school!”  He squirmed and wiggled, trying to escape and make it onto the bus, but then it pulled away and there we were: just mom and the two-year-old.  No more summer fun with the big sisters.

I had a plan, though.  After all, I’m an old-pro at this by now.  We stopped long enough in the house just to grab our bag and then walked right back out the door.

We played at a playground.  We took a long walk.  We hung out at the library.  We ate chicken nuggets.  We came home just in time to watch some Mickey Mouse before he took a nap.

And when he woke up, it was time to get the girls.

There.  One day down.  169 more school days to go.

I can’t treat him to a morning out on the town every day of this school year, of course.

But my heart is FOR him.  I plan ways to ease his disappointment.  I prepare him for difficult seasons and the hard days.

I know what he loves and how to bring him joy.

I pray for his year just as much as I pray for the girls who climbed up into a school bus and headed off for classrooms, playgrounds, and busy hallways.

Maybe it felt like I was against him.  I was the obstacle to him climbing onto that big yellow bus and having a grand old time at school with his sisters.

But no.  This is the tough love, the mysterious mercy.  Kindergarten will arrive all too soon and then he will go and time will rush on.

No need to skip over this precious time and these few years without homework and tests, grades, playground squabbles, and the like.

This is the way I love my son.

And this is the way I am loved.

And this is the way God loves you too.

In Romans, I read a question:

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?  (Romans 8:31 ESV).

It means that I shouldn’t fear persecution from others. I shouldn’t fear what any man could do to me because God is mighty and able and is my Protector and Shield.

But before I get to that, I need to stop here:  God is FOR us.

This is the truth we rely on.

If God wasn’t for us, we’d be deeply vulnerable to the attacks of others and the battering of this world.  We’d be lost causes and hopeless messes.

But that’s not who we are because that’s not who HE is.

God is, indeed, FOR us, and that changes everything.

He tenderly cares for the truest needs of our hearts.  He extends mysterious mercy, protecting us in ways we don’t see, providing for us in ways we can’t imagine, and preparing us for futures we can’t anticipate.

In this same chapter in Romans, we see what this looks like:

  • We are no longer condemned (Romans 8:1)
  • We have life through His Spirit (Romans 8:12)
  • We are beloved children and heirs of God (Romans 8:14-17)
  • The Spirit helps us in our weakness (Romans 8:26).
  • He’s working everything out for our ultimate good (Romans 8:28).
  • Christ is interceding for us even now (Romans 8:34).
  • We can’t be separated from the love of Christ (Romans 8:35).
  • We are more than conquerors in Jesus (Romans 8:37).

We can rest right here, just stretch ourselves out on this sweet bed of promise:  Because God is FOR us, we need not be afraid–not of the unexpected, not of the uncertain, not of the painful or the downright hard.

This is what it means to be extravagantly and abundantly loved by our gracious God.

 

The Craziest Thing Anyone Ever Said to Me at Target

6 Comments

psalm 30-11I’d been married a week.

A week.

We visited my great-grandmother and she asked me, “So, when are you going to give your mom some grandbabies?”

A week.

I thought the question was mildly shocking, moderately annoying and mostly downright crazy talk.

But, you know, what can you do?  So, I giggled awkwardly or something and dodged the whole wildly uncomfortable conversation.

Not long after that, I was having dinner with a dear friend in a crowd of other friendly folks and someone asked her the question.

“So you’ve been married for a few years now.  When are you going to have kids?”

I thought the question was mildly shocking, moderately annoying and mostly downright crazy intrusive….

It was so much more than that for her.  It was deeply painful, treading like heavy steel-toed boots all over the most tender places of her broken heart.

That’s what she told me later.  How no one ever thought before they asked her that question…and people asked her ALL the time.

When are you having kids?  When are you having kids?  When are you having kids?

The truth was that she was desperate for a baby and yet it isn’t just that easy for everyone, is it?  Hadn’t she prayed and prayed?  Hadn’t she tried and seen the doctor and then had to answer the clueless questions of nosy onlookers?

We just think we’re making conversation, but we’re really battering and bruising the sweet soul we’re chatting with over dinner.

Sometimes, it’s ridiculously comical.  Like when I stood in the shoe section at the Target with my three blond-headed beautiful daughters, my youngest at the time less than 2 months old.  Such precious gifts to me.

And this random lady waltzed right on over and gave me creepily personal tips on how to have a boy next time.

In the Target.

With my kids there.

And I didn’t know her.

Good gravy.

Or when people see my beloved little boy and say right there in front of my three precious girls, “So, you finally got your boy.  I bet your husband is happy.”

Like my daughters were just three attempts at having a son gone wrong.

We just say things, don’t we?  We aren’t meaning to be mean or hurtful.  We just say….stuff….  It seems innocent enough and we just don’t think maybe there’s a world of hurt left trailing after our destructive conversation.

It doesn’t get any harder than when we see a loved one grieving. We want so much to say the right words, soothe the hurt, ease their throbbing pain because we love them so.

But sometimes we get it all wrong.  We try to cover over their hurt with platitudes that sound so right, “It’s God’s will.  It’s for the best.  He always works everything out for the good” and yet what we’re essentially saying is, ‘Suck it up and get over it.  You’re a Christian so you shouldn’t be sad.”

Holley Gerth says in What Your Heart Needs for the Hard Days:

While we mean well, comments like those are like stripping off someone’s sackcloth. Instead of helping, we leave their hearts even more exposed. What our hearts need is something new to cover them in hard times. And that’s what God offers.

We leave their hearts raw and exposed, open to further wounding.

Yet, God, such a gracious God, covers us with protection and love.

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever” Psalm 30:11-12

It takes time, yes, it can take so much time.  But he does this—he removes our sackcloth and clothes us with joy.

And what I want to be is the kind of person who shares this grace with others.

We won’t get it right all the time.  We’ll say the wrong thing and maybe mess it all up.  Maybe we just don’t even know what to say when we are eyewitnesses to the hurt inflicted by a sin-stained planet.

But we can start here.

Dear friend, I don’t even have the right words, but I love you.  I am praying for you.  I am here for you.

And we can start here—-thinking through our questions before we ask them, so we don’t leave a hurting heart raw and exposed after what we just thought was casual, totally normal small-talk.

And we can start here, praying this:  Dear God, May we be wise and grace-filled in our conversations with others today.  May we speak the words that show Your love—and nothing less than that.—Amen.

Originally published 09/24/2014

It Helps to Know We’re Not Alone

5 Comments

2 corinthians 1

“I get it.”

That’s what I said to my girl.  She was feeling ashamed, a memory from a mistake held her a little hostage.

It was a simple thing that had overwhelmed her: a new situation, someone giving her instructions she didn’t understand, pressure to make a decision and she did the wrong thing.

It wasn’t that she sinned.  She just messed up.  It was a misunderstanding, an accident.

And it deflated her, embarrassment and shame threatening to suck the joy right out of the whole experience.

Weeks later, any time she thought about that day, she still remembered it:  The MISTAKE.

And she felt all that pressure and all that shame and all that self-criticism beat on her all over again.

So, one day I dipped my head down to hers and slipped my arm around her shoulder and I said, “I get this.”

And I do.  If I’m pressured to make a decision, I will almost always do the wrong thing.  My split-second reactions are foolish, and all that imperfection is embarrassing, crushing even, to a perfection-striving girl like me.

Then I told her what I’ve learned and what I’m learning about how to overcome my decision-making deficiency and the way I can mess up and the way I can get buried in shame.

I felt the tension in her shoulders ease at the sound of my confession.  It never occurred to her that she wasn’t alone.  That maybe others, maybe even her mom, does foolish things sometimes. Or that others have a hard time letting go and getting over past mistakes.

There’s power in knowing someone understands.

And, I take comfort in this also, even though Jesus doesn’t understand what it’s like to sin, He does understand what it’s like to be tempted.  He knows what the accusations of Satan sound like.

When he asks me to endure, be patient, withstand trials or suffering, love my enemies, speak truth, or show love, He gets it.  He has been there.

Eugene Peterson wrote:

“Lord Jesus Christ, how grateful I am that You have entered the arena of suffering and hurt and evil.  If all I had were words spoken from a quiet hillside, I would not have what I needed most — Your victory over the worst, Your presence in time of need.”

Jesus could have preached “Blessed are the merciful and the meek and the pure in heart,” and those messages would have been challenging, beautiful even.

But ultimately, they’d be meaningless pep-talks about morality and character.

He didn’t just make speeches, though.

He showed mercy.

He lived with meekness.

He interceded for those crucifying Him as He labored to breathe on the cross.

He remained pure even as Satan tempted Him in the desert.

Jesus didn’t just say it; He lived it.

That’s why the writer of Hebrews reminds us that:

For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people.  Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted (Hebrews 2:17-18).

This mercy is our comfort and our joy.

Jesus doesn’t stand aloof and full of judgment, looking down at us for messing up or falling short.

Our merciful High Priest bends down low and helps us overcome.

In the same way, Jesus asks us to do more than just make speeches at people and proclaim truth.  He asks us to live it and then share it.

Paul wrote:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God (1 Corinthians 1:3-4).

So, we who have received mercy, offer others the relief of mercy.

“I get it…I don’t always have it together either.”  That’s what we confess.

We don’t pretend everything is perfect; we share the vulnerability of life.

When we’ve walked through cancer, we love others through cancer.  We who have experienced loss, love others through loss.

We comfort the friend, we share in her struggle, in the bad news, in the mistakes, and we pour out generous helpings of grace because God heaped grace on us.

We give others the gift we’ve received ourselves:  Knowing we’re not alone.

What comfort has God given you so that you may comfort others?

I was tempted to fret

5 Comments

psalm 37-3

I trekked across the parking lot at Epcot in the mid-day August heat with my two-year-old in tow.

Why were we attempting this feat?

Because my son uses Caprisun juice pouches like most kids use pacifiers or a security blanket.  When he is tired, overwhelmed, scared, or maybe even bored, he asks for a juice.

Normally, this is no crisis.  But that day was the final stretch of a six-day marathon at DIsney.

He was tired.

He was a bit overwhelmed.

He was a teeny bit bored because, while Epcot was awesome, he was too small to ride some of the attractions.

That meant he was cruising through our Caprisun supply faster than I anticipated and I was running out.

No fear, though!  I had more in the minivan.  Hence, my mid-day jaunt out to the parking lot.

We finally arrived, a hot, sweaty mess.  I unlocked the van, plopped him on a seat and enjoyed a few seconds of air-conditioning while I pulled Caprisuns out of the cooler.

He promptly hopped into the front seat and pretended to drive.

Then, we walked back to the park and had a grand old time with our refilled Caprisun supply and a happy two-year-old.

But that’s when I began to fret.

Normally, any time my son climbs into the front seat of the minivan, he immediately turns on the lights.  He has an auto-reflex with buttons.

See button.  Push button.

So, we’re touring around Epcot and I’m wondering, “Did my son turn on the van lights?  If he did, did I turn them off?  Will the van battery be dead by the end of the day?  Will we be stranded at Disney in the August heat?  Will we be abandoned forever in an Epcot parking lot?”

My fretting began as a fairly reasonable question and quickly escalated to worries beyond proportion.

I had to get control.

After all, I’ve never been to Disney before.  This was my big chance to enjoy the day with my family.

I could spend it relishing the moment.

Or I could spend it fretting over a hypothetical future.

It was my choice.

I considered the worst case scenario: He turned on the lights and I didn’t turn them off.  The van battery is drained.  We ask the Disney car-rescue people to jumpstart our van.

Would it be miserable?

Probably.

Would I survive?

Well, yeah.

So, could I let it go?

Yes, I could.

At the end of the day, we found the minivan with its lights off.  No crisis at all.

Had I spent the day worrying, I’d have wasted every joy-filled moment on a hypothetical that never happened.

The truth is, we have plenty of opportunities to fret in life and most of them are for naught.

We often worry over a future we’ll never face and circumstances we won’t even endure.

I certainly had a week full of chances to choose to fret or choose to trust.

Our cat became extremely ill just as we left for Disney.  An odd warning light flicked on in our minivan just as we pulled into the first Disney parking lot. My husband’s car sat at a repair shop back home waiting for the mechanic’s verdict about brakes.

Fret, fret, fret.  I could have done it all week long.

But God cared for us: Cars without the problems we expected, a cat who was better cared for than we could have even cared for him ourselves.

All those opportunities to worry became opportunities to trust Him and find the blessing of His grace and abundance.

During the week, I read Psalm 37 once again:

Fret not yourself because of evildoers;
    be not envious of wrongdoers!
2 For they will soon fade like the grass
    and wither like the green herb.

3 Trust in the Lord, and do good;
    dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
4 Delight yourself in the Lord,
    and he will give you the desires of your heart.

5 Commit your way to the Lord;
    trust in him, and he will act.

David was tempted to fret also, in his case over evildoers who seemed to get ahead.

But, like me, he had to discipline his vision.

Where was he looking?  At circumstances?  Hypothetical tragedies?  At others?

No, he recaptured an eternal perspective.  What truly matters in the light of heaven? (verse 2).

He focused on God:  trusting Him, delighting in Him, and committing his ways to the Lord.

And then he chose to “do good.”  He didn’t remain paralyzed by the fear and the fretting; he took one right and true step forward at a time and kept on moving closer to God.

We can do the same.

Recapture a vision of heaven.

Fix our eyes on Jesus.

Take the next good step and trust Him with everything else.

Are We There Yet?

Leave a comment

psalm 130“Are we there yet?”

Twelve+ hours in the car with four kids means you’re bound to hear that question a time or two or a hundred.

Really, though, my kids did pretty well on our journey to Disney and back.  We had one outright, “Are we there yet?” yelled up from the backseat.

And one time my baby girl tried to pull one over on us:  “How many miles is it to Florida and how long does it take us to drive one mile?”

She figured her math skills would come in handy. She didn’t really have to ask us for an arrival time estimate; she could just gather some info, answer on her own, and we’d be none the wiser.

We didn’t fall for her tricky ways.

But this is the question I find myself asking at times, too.

Are we there yet, Lord?

And it’s wrapped up in childlike fears and wants.

It’s my own impatience, the wanting to be done already, the desire to wrap up the story I’m in with a fairy tale sort of sweet, happy ending.

It’s having a goal in mind, a picture and vision of what’s to come.   We’ll know when the journey is over when we get that job or that promotion, when the prodigal comes home, when the relationship heals or the body heals or the heart heals.

For my kids, they knew their story end was Disney World one way and Home on the trip back.

Then, when you pull into the driveway and park your minivan, you’re done.  The End.  Finished.

You have arrived at your destination.

That’s not always so easy to discern in life, though.  When I ask God, “are we there yet?” it’s not just childish impatience because I want the journey to be over already.  Sometimes I’m just wondering “Is this IT?”

Is this the end, the destination?  Is this where the journey stops and the story finishes?  Is this the completed work?

Or is there more?  Is the story ongoing?  Do I keep praying through these circumstances and trust that we’re not at the end; we’re just somewhere in the middle?

In the silence and in the waiting and in the lull of visible God-activity, I’m tempted to settle into a “new normal.”

This must be “it.”  So, I settle down into complacency and resolution.

I don’t love this ending.  It’s not what I hoped for.  I don’t see God glorified.  The story feels unfinished; the promises unfulfilled.

So, “are we there yet, God?”

Because here is where I am.

The Psalmist said:

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
    and in his word I hope;
6 my soul waits for the Lord
    more than watchmen for the morning,
    more than watchmen for the morning (Psalm 130:5-6 ESV).

Philip Yancey writes,

The picture comes to mind of a watchman counting the minutes for his shift to be over.

The watchmen have this advantage over me, though.  They know when morning has come.  All through the night, they count down those minutes with anticipation and hope:  1 a.m.,  3 a.m. 4:30 a.m.

Then the moment arrives. Dawn.  Morning is here and their shift is over.  Finished.  Completed.  The end.

What to do, though, when The End isn’t so clear?

Maybe the problem is the question I’ve been asking.

Maybe it shouldn’t be, “Are we there, yet?”

Maybe I should be asking, “Am I with you, Lord?”

After all, family time on vacation didn’t begin at Disney.  Family time didn’t end when we pulled into our driveway at home.  We choose to be together throughout the journey.

The Psalmist said he waits for the Lord.  He hopes in His Word.

Not he waits for deliverance and he hopes in his army or his friends or allies.

And that time with the Lord doesn’t begin with the answered prayer.  It doesn’t end with promises fulfilled.

It’s here and now, it’s past and it’s future.

This very moment, the one right here where we feel stalled and uncertain about the future, the season of waiting and in the hours when we wonder if God has finished with us and we didn’t even know it…this is all the opportunity to choose hope.

Not hope for an outcome: Hope for Him and hope for His presence.

And so we don’t wait with impatience.

We wait with anticipation of what He’s doing in this grand story, knowing that “The End” doesn’t come until we’re with Jesus, face to face, in the fullness of His glory, worshiping at His throne.

5 Prayers for a New School Year

6 Comments

Prayers for a new school year

I stood in the line of nervous parents and excited-though-apprehensive elementary school children at Open House years ago.  I was praying….a lot.

“Oh Jesus, please give me daughter a great teacher this year…..please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaasssssseeeee.”

Of course, while standing in line at Open House isn’t a bad place to pray, it’s not the only time to pray.

After all, when it was our turn, we stepped up to the table and the principal handed us an index card with a teacher’s name and a room number on it.  But those decisions had been made weeks before we saw it all written out on a piece of paper.

So, maybe that’s when to start praying?

Or maybe the answer really is that we never stop praying for our kids.

Not ever.

We move from need to need, praying today for today, but also for tomorrow and for five years from now and on into their adult years, their marriages, their careers and ministries.

So, here are five prayers I start praying before the school year begins, long before I step into that line on Open House night and certainly before I kiss my kids on the head, pray for them quickly and watch them step onto the bus on the first day of school.

  1. For the right teacher and classroom:  God, you know my children best.  Yes, you know them even better than I do.  You know exactly what teacher is going to work with their strengths and weaknesses and what teacher will help them reach their potential and be excited about school and learning.  Please give the teachers and administrators wisdom as they place our children into classrooms and help my children be matched with the perfect teacher and the classmates who will be good friends rather than bullies, mean girls, or distractions this year.  Please bless the teacher’s summer, helping it be restful and fun so he or she can start the school year with enthusiasm, excitement and energy!
  2. For safety:  Lord, it’s hard for me to let my children go where I can’t see them or be with them all the time.  I want so much to be there to protect them and guide them, intervene for them, and love them through the hard things.  But, I know You are with them even when I can’t be.  You can care for them better than I can.  Please watch over them with Your providential care and protection.
  3. For their choices:  Father, my children will be making tons of decisions every day.  Please help them to know they can always turn to You for help when they need it and please help them draw on the wisdom from Your Word that we’ve tried to teach them.  Holy Spirit, direct their steps and guide their hearts to do what is right.  Help my children be a witness for You all day, on the playground, in the lunch room, in the classroom and more.
  4. For us as parents: God, we need just as much help as our kids do for this school year.  Help us make wise decisions and know how to mold their character, give advice, when to get involved and when to let our children handle things on their own, and how to train up this child in the way that he or she should go.
  5. For their friendships:  Lord, one of the biggest decisions my kids will make this year is about who to befriend.  Please give them discernment and wisdom to know how to choose good friends, those who will lead them to you, those who will encourage success and help them do the right thing.  When there are children being picked on or ignored, I ask that you will show my child how to give them compassion and to reach out to them in love.  Give my children the strength to lead others to You rather than be led by others away from You.  Please protect them from bullies, mean girls, and bad influences and help them know how to stand up for what is right when necessary.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

Originally posted August 2, 2013

When Your Toddler Knows Your First Name

2 Comments

1 john 3-1

“James”

“Daddy.”

“James on the phone.”

“Yes, Daddy is on the phone.”

“James.”

This is the back-and-forth conversation my two-year-old son and I have been having.

Over the summer, he mysteriously figured out his dad’s first name and started using it.  We’re not exactly sure how this happened.  He just started saying, “James” out of the blue.  We didn’t teach it to him.

So, for about two weeks it became:

“James on the phone.”

“James at work.”

It was “James” this and “James” that.

I kept correcting him and it took him time to understand that “Daddy” and “James” are just two names for the same person.  But while lots of people might call him “James” only a few people get to call him “Daddy.”

And, two-year-old children don’t get to call their dads by their first names.

Besides that, “Daddy” is the personal name, the relational name.  It’s not just about what is technically on the birth certificate or what anyone can call him whether they are stranger or friend.

“Daddy” shows the privilege of intimacy, position and belonging.

And this matters, not just when we’re talking about family, but when we’re talking to God.

Why would my son choose “James” when he has the privilege of position, the right to call him “Dad?”

Why would we choose distance when God offers us His very presence?

Sometimes, that’s what we do, though.

It can creep up on us so stealthily. One morning we realize we’ve been calling God by formal names and keeping the conversations “all business” instead of making it personal.

Perhaps we’re like Israel out in the wilderness, heading out of Egypt after the grand and glorious displays of God’s might.

Usually, we say that God brought them out of Egypt so He could take them to the Promised Land.

But that wasn’t God’s first intention for His people.  Instead, He took them to Mount Sinai to meet with them.

As John Bevere writes in Drawing Near:

Remember God’s words to Pharaoh, through Moses, “”let my people go, so that they may worship me in the desert” Ex. 7:16 NIV). It was not “Let my people go, so they can inherit a land” (p. 4).

But at the foot of that holy mountain, they knew their sin stood in the way.  They could never survive the presence of the Holy God, so they told Moses,

Go near and hear all that the Lord our God will say, and speak to us all that the Lord our God will speak to you, and we will hear and do it.’ (Deut. 5:27 ESV).

Instead of drawing near themselves, they sent in a go-between, an intermediary. Moses could hear from God and tell them about it later.

If only they’d been prepared for His presence. If only their hearts were pure and made ready.

Instead, God said,

“Return to your tents” (Deut. 5:30 ESV).

John Bevere says:

How God’s heart must have broke, and how heavy was Moses’ heart as he returned….God brought them out of Egypt for one reason—to bring them to Himself—and they missed it” (p. 75)

I don’t want to miss it!  When God brings us to Himself, may we be ready to go up, not sent back down to tents far from His presence.

Or maybe we’re like Martha in the New Testament, who allowed busyness, stress, and too many distractions from too many worries keep her from the feet of Christ?

Maybe it’s that we fear what God will ask of us.  Like the Rich Young Ruler in Mark 10, we think we want to be with Jesus, but then He asks us to give up position or power or possessions or habits or relationships or plans and dreams.  And the choice is harder; we want God, but do we want Him more than everything else?

Or perhaps it’s the slow drift, drift, drift of our hearts, worn down by the daily grind, where time with Him is duty and not delight.

Or maybe our hearts are tender and bruised with disappointment because even though we know God is good, and even though we know He’ll never leave us, we’re hurt.  Prayers weren’t answered the way we hoped.  Expectations weren’t met.  Dreams didn’t work out.  Healing didn’t come.

So, we cradle our hearts with a wall of self-protection, not just from others—from God Himself.

But here’s what Scripture promises:

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are (1 John 3:1 ESV).

We are His children.  His beloved.

That means relationship.  It means repenting. It means talking it out when we’re hurt. It means choosing to trust.  It means drawing near and knocking down walls.

And He allows us, invites us even, to draw near, to call Him “Father,” to call Him “Dad.”

 

Rebooting the Calendar in August

9 Comments

psalm 143-8

“Mom, I saw the Boy Scouts float in the Christmas parade.”

This is how my oldest daughter started that conversation about six years ago.

“Uh huh.”  I said hesitantly.  She clearly had an agenda for this conversation and I couldn’t tell what it was yet.

“Well, if there are Boy Scouts, does that mean there are Girl Scouts?”

Oh, now I understood.  She saw those Boy Scouts and she thought surely if there are Girl Scouts she should join them.

But of course she also wanted art lessons and horseback riding lessons and swim lessons on top of the church activities and ballet classes she was already taking.

“Babe, yes there are Girl Scouts.  But, you can’t do everything.  You are doing ballet.  Do you want to stop doing ballet?”

“Nope.”

Okay then.

We had that conversation about six years ago and we had something like it again this week and the week before that and probably every single week of her life since she turned five.

My husband tells her that she’d have to live a hundred lifetimes in order to do all the things she wants to do.

That sounds about right.

I consider this now as I step into August and begin my annual prayer season over our fall family schedule.

Every August, I reboot the family calendar.

In the past week, I’ve received several requests to join and lead, to volunteer and help out.  They are coming at me in email messages, newsletters, and meetings.

So, just like my daughter, I need the time to evaluate and prioritize.  I need to know God’s will, His plan, and His heart for me in the year ahead before I jump into anything.

I’m imperfect and a work in progress on this.  Sometimes, we still end up weighed down with too much.  Sometimes the balance is just right.

But here’s where I begin:

  1. Spend the first part of August praying and not committing (if possible). Ask God to give you His heart for this season and ask Him to give you a sense of purpose and priority.  I pray through these verses:

    If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him (James 1:5 ESV)

    Teach me the way in which I should walk;
    For to You I lift up my soul (Psalm 143:8 NASB).

  2.  Ask Him if there’s anything you need to step down from or let go of.   Don’t do just because you’ve always done.  Submit your current activities to Him in prayer and seek His guidance.
  3. In mid-August, mark a calendar or sketch out in a notebook what your non-negotiables are.   This might be the school calendar, your work schedule, or church activities.
  4.  If you have kids, pray with them and make decisions about fall activities.  Decide what to keep and what to eliminate.
  5. Pray over any possible new activity or commitment and ask if it fits in with God’s plan and purpose for you in this season.  If He’s been teaching you about prayer, the prayer group might be “yes” and the small group discussion time a “no.”  If He has given you a heart for kids, perhaps it’s “yes” for the kids’ ministry and “no” for the food ministry.
  6. Be accountable.  Before you say “yes” or “no,” pray about it with your spouse or seek counsel from someone you trust.
  7. Do leave blank space on the calendar for the unexpected, the last-minute, and the chance to rest. 

When it’s all sketched out, I pray again for God to make any necessary changes, and to stop me, move me, guide me as He sees fit.

People may disagree with your schedule and that’s okay.

You may hear how if you’re a good Christian….a good wife….a good mom…then clearly you’d sign up for another program or event.

On the other hand, others might tell you that you’re doing too much and you need to focus more at home.

This is why the August reboot is personal and prayerful.  It is between you and God.

He knows whether you function better with lots of activity or little activity and this is not the same for everyone!

Mark 3 tells us:

And he appointed twelve…so that they might be with him and he might send them out… (Mark 3:14 ESV).

Jesus’ first priority for the disciples was that they be with Him.  It’s the same for us.  We can’t let busyness strangle and suffocate us and leave us with no time to be in His presence.

Our first priority must be to be with Him.

But He also sent them out and we should be willing to go out also, out of our homes, outside of our families, our comfy cliques, our routines, and our comfort zones.  We go where He leads us to go.

So we personally and prayerfully seek Him and His plan for our year–to be with Him and to be sent out for Him.

 

I Blame the Weather App

5 Comments

Proverbs 3-5.jpg

I love summer.

I’m not a fan of heat and humidity, but otherwise, I really love it.

I love my kids being home and the quiet nights of freedom instead of the evenings rushing to activities.

I love not having an hour of homework and a surprise project sent home on the one week you don’t have time for an extra project.

I love lightning bugs and lemonade and concerts by the beach.

I love not rushing through the morning routine every day to make the bus on time.

Love it.

But last year my husband said he thought I was more stressed during the summer.

So, I wonder, how can I feel like I love summer so much and yet exude stress to others?

I blame it on the weather app.

Because, as much as I love summer, what I really love is a plan.  Summer would be so much more fun for me if I could just schedule every relaxing activity, every day trip, every play date on my calendar in May.

That way, I would know exactly what kind of fun I was going to have every single day from June through August.

Perfect! It’s probably the only way besides outdoor air-conditioning that I could possibly improve on the whole concept of summer.

But, alas, the essential unpredictability of life bumps into my happy bubble.

So, one day I’m blissfully driving my minivan into town for a walk on Main Street.   The sages who run my weather app say there is 0% chance of rain for the next few hours.

It starts raining on me as I drive.

Maybe we need to have a chat about what 0% really means.  I mean, I’ll allow for a tiny bit of rain if there is even 10% chance of precipitation.  But when you say 0%, I’m kind of going to count on sunshine.

Last summer, I foolishly thought ahead, gathered information, and made a plan for a week of summer fun.  I even wrote on my calendar in Sharpie marker.

Sharpie marker! That’s permanent planning for you.

I checked the commitments we already had on the calendar.  I checked my weather app.  This day would be gorgeous.  I could take my kids somewhere outside.  It will be 86 and sunny.  Perfect.

On Sunday, though, my weather app reloaded with new numbers.  Surprise!  It would be 95 and gross outside.  Make a new plan.

I hate making new plans.

I get it.  Really, I do.  The weather folks have a tough job with vocal, unreasonable critics like me who mistake ‘predictions’ for facts.  It’s a complicated system and God can move clouds and alter weather patterns at will.

But here’s the bottom line.  What stresses me out about summer is that I am forced into a flexibility I don’t possess.

It’s like my daughters complaining about doing the splits in dance class.  I’m yelling at the pain as my Teacher assures me I can go a little lower.

This feels as low as I can go. It hurts.  I’m pretty sure I could snap some bones and permanently damage my hips with all this forced flexibility.

And, one of the few thing I hate more than changes in plans is making decisions.  But every time a plan changes, I get to make a new decision about something I had already decided before.

I am now making double the decisions and trying to make them with constantly changing, thoroughly unreliable information.

I hate summer.

Oh really, what I need, what I truly, deep-down really need is grace.

God made me a planner.  He etched agendas and schedules and calendars on my soul.  He loves me enough to use all that’s good about my planning ways, but He won’t leave me here with the pitfalls of control and idolatry and lack of trust.

He stretches me into someone even more beautiful and Jesus-filled:  A planner who trust Him with her plans.

That means not hyperventilating when someone calls me and asks to interrupt my plans for the day.

It means checking the weather app without a meltdown.

It means getting rained on sometimes and just laughing in the rain.

It means making a decisions that turn out to be wrong and just letting that go instead of allowing it to throw me into a mudpit of self-condemnation.

Maybe I can learn to really love summer after all.  It won’t be easy, of course, but it will be God at work in me, and that’s beautiful.

Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track (Proverbs 3:5-6 MSG).