When You’re Not The Best Mom Ever

July 31, 2015July 23, 20151 Comment

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best mom ever.”

It was a casual minivan conversation. She climbed up into her seat after preschool. I promised to make her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with strawberries and pretzels for lunch.

She bestowed on me the title of “Best Mom Ever,” clicked her seatbelt, and then asked if she could play on my Kindle.

But two days later, I am still thinking about the mercy of this.

I may be a good mom, a making-an-effort-mom, an intentional mom, an organized mom, a take-this-seriously mom….

…but I am not the “Best Mom Ever.”

I have those days. (Don’t we all?)

I grow weary. I snap. I grumble over dirty dishes and toilets. I push too hard. I hold on to things when I need to let go. I feel distracted or selfish. I forget.

This girl, though, this tiny encourager in the minivan seat behind me, doesn’t give me what I deserve or merit or earn. She overlooks the faults and failures.

That’s what mercy does.

Mercy says, “You deserve judgment, discipline, and second-class status….but I choose not to give you what you deserve.”

And this is how I’ve learned to pray.

Lord, have mercy.

That Pharisee stood all bold and confident in the synagogue, booming out those prayers. “God, I’m so righteous. God I’m so worthy. I’m not like those other people, the riff-raff and the sinners.”

But that tax collector dropped his eyes low:

“God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Luke 8:13 NIV).

Have mercy on me, Lord.

And that blind man begging by the side of the road heard that Jesus was passing by and what could he cry out? That he deserved healing? That somehow he had suffered long enough and had earned a miracle?

No, he screamed it out so Jesus could hear this one desperate cry over the noisy chaos of the mob:

“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me! (Luke 18:38 NIV).

This mercy prayer is what Jesus loved, the one that caught His attention and made Him pause, turn aside, and deliver. Lord, have mercy.

Even Daniel, this man so righteous in the Baylonian world of unrighteousness, knew he couldn’t pray because of his own merit.

We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy (Daniel 9:18 NIV).

So I pray this also about situations for others and situations for me: Lord, have mercy on me!

This is no manipulative mantra, no magic incantation. It’s not the words themselves that matter.

It’s the attitude of my heart. God delights in the humble. He shows compassion to the needy.

And it’s right here where I recognize my utter dependence on Him that He shows His glory most clearly.

God, I know what I’ve already been given—mercy and grace, so much grace. You have been good to me.

And I know I can’t come here asking for Your help because I’ve worked this hard or because I am this good. Not because I’ve tried to obey or because I’m righteous. Not because I’ve spent this much time in Your Word today or got down on my knees when I prayed instead of praying with my eyes open while I’m driving.

There’s no holy act that could earn me the right to ask this….

No amount of “good” that makes me “good enough” to request Your favor or Your blessing.

And yet, I pray simply because You are merciful.

Scripture says God hears my prayers, but the answers don’t seem to come and it feels like He’s not even hearing me.

Am I being too bold? Am I asking for too much? Are there far more important things on His agenda?

Am I complaining too much and should I just settle for less and be grateful for what I get? Am I too needy? Too demanding or spoiled?

But then this.

I open up my daily Bible reading and start to run right through that Psalm for the day and at that first verse I sit stunned. I read it over and over again:

I love the Lord, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live (Psalm 116:1-2 NIV).

He blows this fresh wind of mercy over me and He fills my hyperventilating lungs with His very own breath of hope and life.

I still can’t see the answer to my prayer. I don’t see the solution or the end.

But I know this—He hears my cry for mercy.

Originally published May 21, 2014

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.

Fear is an ill-fitting hand-me-down

July 24, 2015July 14, 20154 Comments

We called her our Roller Coaster Baby. My middle girl was a fearless climber and intrepid explorer in her younger days. When she played with Daddy, she always wanted to go higher and faster.

We thought she’d be a mountain climber, an adventurer, a bold and brave pioneer, who wouldn’t be intimidated by peer pressure or life’s obstacles.

Then she learned the word “scared.”

From the first time that word rolled off her tongue, she changed. Her reaction to every movie or TV show, every playground, every game was, “I’m scared.” To emphasize it, she would clutch her arms around her body and tremble.

Now, she’s growing up afraid. She’s afraid of heights. She’s terrified of spiders. She can’t sleep in the dark. Most movies are off-limits because any bad guy of any kind ‘creeps her out.’ She can’t sleep with her head uncovered at night for fear of intruders and murderers.

Unfortunately, this middle girl of mine is passing her fear on like a worn-out, unwelcome hand-me-down.

My youngest girl is a brave soul, taking on challenges and amusement park rides with courage.

But last night, her older sister’s fears trickled down to her. This little one couldn’t stay in her bed, couldn’t sleep in her own room, couldn’t turn out the lights. She was tearful, fearful and overcome.

She had learned that you were supposed to be afraid.

I’m discovering that fear is a cursed ill-fitting hand-me-down that we sometimes pass on to one another.

At the very least, I know one thing with certainty–fear isn’t something given to us by God. It’s never part of His plan for us. He wants us all to be intrepid explorers, brave pioneers, and valiant defenders of what is right and true.

Instead, we are run-out-of-the-room afraid. We are hide-our-heads-under-our-blankets scared.

How has this happened? Paul wrote so clearly that:

“God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7, ESV).

When Jesus left the disciples, He gave them another precious gift:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid (John 14:27, ESV)

We trade in the gifts that God’s given, of power, love, self-control and peace, for a fear-filled life and anxious hearts.

It’s a learned trait. At some point, someone we respect and believe in tells us to be afraid and suddenly the childlike fearlessness of our innocent days is tainted and torn.

Or we are hurt and abandoned, abused, or neglected and we learn what it means to be terrified.

Or circumstances just loom so impossibly over our shoulders and our practical minds assure us that destruction is imminent.

Or Satan, the father of lies, fills our hearts and heads with doubt and discouragement. He tells us, “God’s not with you. You’re alone. You have no hope. This is impossible. Nothing can save you now.”

Whatever our story is and no matter who or what it was that first shoved fear into our hands, it’s time to stop agreeing to the exchange. It’s time to stop accepting hand-me-down terror.

It’s time to fight for the gift God’s already given us—peace in His presence.

Remember that “with His love, He will calm all your fears” (Zephaniah 3:17) and even “though I walk through the darkest valley,I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4).

God’s Word also reminds us:

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10)

Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6)

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

We don’t know the future. We don’t know all the reasons for evil and pain in this world. We don’t understand everything that happens and we’re not guaranteed perfect lives of comfort and prosperity.

But we don’t have to be afraid. God has lavished us with perfect gifts—peace, love, self-control, power. He promises to be with us, wherever we go, whatever we face. That’s a gift worth keeping. Don’t trade in that promise for anything.

To find more verses on fear and worry, click here.

When You Feel Like the Runt

July 22, 2015July 14, 20153 Comments

Dearest Catherine,

Did you know that King David was the youngest of all his brothers?

In fact, when the prophet Samuel showed up on Jesse’s doorstep and announced that one of his sons would be anointed as the new king of Israel, Jesse didn’t even remember that David existed.

Jesse had son after son parade before Samuel.

Tall ones. Handsome ones. Brawny ones.

Every one of them seemingly fit for royal position based on their outward appearance.

The Lord rejected them.

Still, it didn’t occur to Jesse to call for that youngest boy of his.

As the parade wound down that afternoon, Samuel asked if that was the lot of them. Any more sons?

It was like he was jogging Jesse’s memory. Can you recall, by any chance, any other son you might have forgotten?

Of course, Jesse had indeed forgotten one.

You know, David: David the teenage shepherd boy, reeking of livestock and still far out in the fields instead of participating in this Search for Israel’s King Part 2.

Jesse brushes it all off. Obviously God doesn’t want that son when He could have the pick of so many fine, strapping young men. Why even bother calling David in from the field? It’d just be a waste of the sheep’s good grazing time.

He says it like this: “There remains yet the youngest, but behold, he is keeping the sheep” (1 Samuel 16:11 ESV).

Max Lucado writes that what Jesse literally says to Samuel that day is “I still have the runt” (Traveling Light, p. 107).

The runt.

Some nickname.

God picked ‘the runt,’ though. He chose the smallest. He chose the overlooked. He chose the boy in the field, the hard-working, faithful shepherd with a heart for worship and prayer.

That’s what God does. He uses the small ones, the weak and the weary, the youngest, the outcast, the dreamer.

Baby girl, it’s not the same for you, of course. You are treasured and beloved. We adore you so. This year, you’ve been shining bright at school and we are so proud of you.

Still, I see it, the struggle and tension sometimes as you tag along after two big sisters, always the youngest of the King Girls Trio.

They rag on you some and pick on you at times, complaining about your tender heart and whining when you want them to play with you and they have other plans.

Those older sisters are off to bigger things and they forget that a six-year-old girl has every right to play with dolls and toys and make pretend picnics.

It seems like you grew two feet in kindergarten. I still do a double-take at times, looking to see my Catherine hiding behind this tall, grown-up six-year-old standing in front of me.

But it’s you, of course. You’re not a teeny girl any more, not the preschooler I have in my mind.

And it’s more than how many inches we’ve measured out on the kitchen wall.

You’ve grown in wisdom.

You rattle off your Bible lessons over Sunday lunches and you never just stop with the story itself. You always tell me what it means.

That we should be kind to others.

That sometimes God doesn’t take away our pain, but He helps us through.

That God looks at what’s in our heart, not just how we look on the outside.

God is at work in you. Yes, six-year-old you. Yes, youngest sister you. Yes, the tiniest King Girl–you.

I see it in your heart for prayer, the way you cover everything from your day as you bow your head at night.

I see it in your grateful heart, how you’re always so thankful for every gift and every opportunity. You never expect or demand; you just rejoice to receive. You’re overflowing with gratitude and joy, celebrating the tiniest gifts like they were precious jewels laid at your feet.

I see it in your tenderness and sensitivity to those around you, treating others with gentleness and deep compassion.

You’ve announced to me this year that in addition to wanting to be a doctor, you’d like to be president some day because you’re really smart and super-good at math (as if that’s the job description of a politician).

Precious one, be who God has called you to be.

You don’t have to keep up or compete with older sisters.

You don’t have to fall for the trappings of acclaim or worldly success and push to be president because somehow that seems more important than caring for patients or any other ministry God has for you.

Remember what God told Samuel:

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7 ESV).

God values what’s in your heart, and your heart, dear one, is so beautiful to Him.

Happy birthday.

Love,

Mom

Taking the Tenderness Challenge

July 17, 2015July 14, 20152 Comments

Here’s the challenge:

Your child spills her cup of milk at dinner.

She wasn’t being bad. It certainly wasn’t malicious. But she was a child who was being…childish. Not quite paying attention. Acting a little clumsy, a little distracted, and a little too caught up in being silly and not paying enough attention to the distance between her hand and the cup on the dinner table.

You know…this is how accidents happen. We make mistakes.

Do you:

Sigh. Big. Maybe roll your eyes. Make a big body language statement about how fed up you are with childish behavior.
Lecture. Give a grand ol’ parental speech about paying attention, maybe even covering topics such as physics, human behavior, and child psychology.
Yell. Call the child names and shame them.
Give them the silent treatment.
Place your hand on their back gently as you hand them some paper towels and whisper the reminder that mistakes happen.

Me? I’m generally a lecturer. In fact, my speeches take on a life of their own at times. I know I should stop lecturing my child and driving home deep life lessons at such a moment, but it’s like I just cannot stop my tongue and hush my mouth up already.

What about you?

I’ve been reading and re-reading this story about Martha, grumbling and complaining in the kitchen and then running to Jesus to tattle-tale about her sister, Mary.

Maybe during the summer months when my own kids are devolving into spats and squabbles and then come running to me for judicial rulings, I’m totally interested in how Jesus responds to sisters fighting.

First, I notice what He doesn’t do.

He doesn’t shame Martha.

He doesn’t heave His shoulders up and down in a big, audible sigh. He doesn’t roll His eyes or nonverbally scream that He’s oh-so-tired of Martha’s childish behavior.

He doesn’t call her names.

He doesn’t bully her, abuse her or lecture her.

Jesus responds with tenderness. Right in the middle of her chaos and conflict, right where she is in sin and ugliness, right when you’d think she merited punishment or admonition , Jesus chooses the loving response instead.

He starts off by saying:

“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things” (Luke 10:41 ESV).

Only then, after He’s gentle assured her of His attention and care, does He address the greater need of her heart.

And then there’s Peter, of course, sitting with Jesus after His resurrection and likely feeling desperately afraid of what Jesus might do or say.

Peter was the denier. The one who promised to stick by Jesus no matter what and the one who betrayed him at the earliest opportunity.

How would Jesus react to Peter?

Duck behind the aisles of Jerusalem’s Wal-Mart in order to avoid Him?

Un-friend him on Facebook?

Stop answering his phone calls?

Would he yell or scream or turn away or belittle Peter, such a failure of a disciple?

No, Jesus shares a breakfast of newly caught fish with Peter and over the crackling of a seaside bonfire, restores Peter and commissions him for leadership within the new church.

Jesus reflects God’s heart for us, just as the prophet Isaiah wrote:

Therefore the LORD longs to be gracious to you, And therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you… (Isaiah 30:18a ESV).

He chooses to be gracious. He doesn’t give us what we deserve; He gives us compassion.

Of course, it’s not natural.

Lectures are natural.

Frustration is natural.

Annoyance and even anger are natural.

When someone else fails, we can default to what’s natural or we can choose what is Jesus.

As a mom, a wife, a friend, a woman….I want to choose Jesus, not just when it’s easy, but when the pressure is on. When my heart is racing, when I’m hurt, when I’m annoyed or even angry, choose Jesus.

May my instant reaction, the one unfiltered by niceties and good Christian girl facades, be deep-down compassion and grace.

Gary Smalley wrote:

Remaining tender during a trial is one of the most powerful ways to build an intimate relationship (Love is a Decision).

He also said,

At the moment of vulnerability, and particularly in the midst of the crisis itself, what a person needs first is tenderness (Love is a Decision).

Character-training can come later. Loving boundaries or correction can come later, quietly, privately, gently. There’ll be plenty of time for that.

But right there when there’s mess all around and their heart is hurting, people need tender mercy not condemnation.

So, I can build up relational walls and spout off words I’ll later regret, or I can reach out a gentle hand, place it on the small of their back and take the tenderness challenge by learning how to love others like Jesus loves me.

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience (Colossians 3:12 ESV).

Taking a Spiritual Retreat When You Can’t Get Away

July 13, 2015July 7, 2015Leave a comment

I’ve always needed to retreat spiritually, to run away for an afternoon or spend a weekend away in quiet.

I’m an introvert and a workaholic. I’ll fill up every available space in my day with to-do list items and then crash from the emotional overload from the noise.

I must get away in order to be healthy: spiritually, emotionally, physically. My sanity and spiritual well-being depend on it.

That was true before I had kids.

Now I have four little people who don’t fully understand the sacredness of “Mommy Time Out” at the kitchen table with my tea and my Bible.

When I sit down, alarms go off all over my house that only children can hear. It’s a secret alert system that lets them know, “Mom is about to sit down. Quick, find something you need!!”

Last Saturday morning, all four of my children needed me for everything and anything nonstop. I probably heard the word “Mom” 200 times in 2 hours, including from one child who thought the best way to get attention was to repetitively say the word, “MOM” over and over and over and over again until it finally floated into my circle of awareness.

Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom.

A incessant drone of need.

Just when I need to retreat the most in life is when it’s hardest to get away.

I’m feeling it this week—the crush, the breathlessness, the emotion that gushes out of me at the slightest bump from life and the unexpected and other’s attempts to heft one more load onto my shoulders.

How exactly do you take a retreat when you can barely slip away for an hour or so after dinner for a break and some quiet (and maybe groceries?)

Let’s be honest. There’s no easy answer here. I’m not going to pretend and push a heavy burden
of “you must get away even when it’s hard” down on your shoulders.

Some of you are single moms or homeschooling moms and I feel so whiny complaining about how hard it is for me when I think of what it costs you to retreat for a few short minutes.

Yet, time away with God is what we crave, what our souls need so that we don’t suffocate and die from spiritual dehydration.

The truth is some of these ideas will work for you and some won’t. Some you can fit in when school is in session if you don’t home-school. Some of them require effort and help from a spouse or a friend.

Here are some ways to take a spiritual retreat without breaking the bank or staying away overnight:

Spend some time in your garden.
Take a walk alone.
Treat yourself to a good book. Sometimes I feel guilty reading for fun. Don’t feel guilty. Enjoy a story for a while.
Read a book slowly. Choose a book to read just one chapter a day. Let it soak in. Think about what the author is saying or just relax into the story.
Discover a new hobby or re-discover an old one: Puzzles, knitting, sewing, crossword puzzles.
Create something. Rejoice in our Creator God as you make something beautiful.
Unplug from social media. Don’t check your email or Facebook after 8 p.m. perhaps or maybe don’t answer messages after 4 and spend the evening resting with your family and enjoying some time off.
Exercise without watching TV.
Take an afternoon field trip: Visit the library, a museum, botanical garden, the beach, or a bookstore for an afternoon, but go by yourself. Sit and read. Walk a little. Journal some, read some, rest a lot.
Slow down with some fast food: Meet up with God for a date, just the two of you. Treat yourself to an ice cream sundae or a cup of coffee. Sit in the corner booth by yourself with your Bible. The only words you say to another human that day might be, “I’ll have one scoop of chocolate, please.”
Take a bubble bath—just be sure to lock the bathroom door so little ones can’t continue to pester you long after they are supposed to be in bed
Early morning cuppa: I’m not one to wake early before my kids. I’m a young mom and sometimes snagging a few more minutes of sleep in the morning is the most spiritual, holy thing I can do. But every so often, an early rise for a quiet time on your back deck before the little ones emerge from their beds is worth it.
Mommy time out: When you simply cannot get away, a Mommy Time Out is worth a try. Set the timer in the kitchen and announce that mommy is unavailable for 15 minutes unless there’s an emergency. This takes training! Everything seems like an emergency to a four-year-old. Keep on trying, redirecting and training until your children understand the sacredness of the Mommy Time Out and then treat them to a game of Candy Land or a special snack when they’ve given you the time you need.

How do you “retreat and refresh?” Do you have any ideas for how to take a spiritual retreat without going away overnight?

Want Honesty? Ask a Preschooler

July 10, 2015July 7, 20152 Comments

I was the preschool party mom for the day.

Snacks? Check.

Games? Check.

Crafts and activities? Check.

Party success.

I packed up my goodies and the kids grabbed jackets to line up for the end of the day. I chatted with the restless kids who already stood in line while they waited for classmates to finish up.

So, I was inspired. A game of “I Spy” would help pass the time and keep these preschoolers from losing it in the line.

I Spy something red.

The apple!

I Spy something yellow.

The bus!

I think I’m being too easy on them, so I go in for a tough one.

I Spy something gray

Your hair!

Well, no, my gray hair wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but thanks for pointing that out.

Preschoolers can be so stinkin’ honest. Gotta love ’em!

Maybe we grow out of it, the honesty. We start filtering our thoughts and hiding away the trueness and the realness of our emotions, dreams and even disappointments.

Some of it’s healthy. No one needs to be blurting out the ‘truth’ about hating your friend’s new haircut, after all.

And yet, when it’s with God, why do we still hide?

Why do we fake goodness and pretend to have it all together with Him? Why do we act generous and humble and keep our real motives hidden deep down?

Why do we hold back from Him when we’re hurt?

I read about Martha in Scripture. We love to pick on her.

Whining Martha. Complaining Martha.

Too busy in the kitchen to listen to Jesus-Martha.

Too worried about her sister to check her own heart and motives-Martha.

Distracted and stressed-Martha.

Yet, there she is, bringing it all to Jesus.

Sure, maybe she slammed the pots and pans around the kitchen for a little bit and maybe she let the oven door slam a few times as she worked herself up into a frenzy.

But eventually she strode right out of that kitchen and told Jesus what had her in a tizzy.

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me” (Luke 10:38-42 ESV).

“Do you not care?”

There’s the truth.

Of course He cared.

But when we’re overwhelmed and distracted and trying to handle everything on our own and failing at it all, it’s hard to feel like He cares.

That’s the truth for us sometimes, too.

We see all the ugly bits of Martha’s heart because she laid it all out there. She was one honest woman, carrying even her worst sin and her pettiness and all of her weakness and dumping the messy lot of it down at Jesus’s feet and asking Him if He even cares about what she’s going through.

She did it when Jesus and His disciples were guests in her home.

She did it again in when her brother, Lazarus, was dead—dead because she sent Jesus a message telling Him that her brother was sick and to hurry to Bethany to heal this dear friend, and Jesus didn’t come for days. He delayed and Lazarus died.

So Martha took her troubles to Jesus: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (John 11:21 ESV).

Doubts?
Worries?
Fear?
Sin?
Anger?
Disappointment?

Maybe we hide them away because we don’t want to face them ourselves, don’t want to look in that mirror and see the brokenness in our own reflection.

Or maybe we think we can avoid God’s sadness over our failures, that somehow we’ve let Him down and if we just try hard enough, we can get back to that perfect good Christian girl who juggles it all and who stays calm and whom everyone can depend on.

Yet, the Psalmist says:

Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being,
And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.
Psalm 51:6 NASB

Truth from the inside out, that’s what Jesus wants from us.

And, we need not fear how He’ll respond when we leave that mess at His feet.

Martha’ s honesty allowed Jesus to do the greater work in her, to teach her, to grow her faith, to help her know Him more.

Yet, He never lost His temper with her. He didn’t turn her away or reject her or refuse to help.

He loved her so, and He traded her mess for His mercy.

Bring it to Jesus. All of it. Lay it at His feet today. Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t be afraid.

The moment you give it to Him is the very moment He can love you through the healing and forgiveness and help you overcome.

I have my heart set on it

June 26, 2015June 26, 2015Leave a comment

My grandmother took me to the beauty shop to have my hair permed for the first time when I was in third grade. I needed a booster seat to sit in the chair.

It’s such a distinctive smell, the scent of perming hair, but they covered over it (or tried to) with coconut-scented solutions and apple-scented conditioners, and this is what brings back the memories.

One whiff of coconut or apple beauty products even now and I’m still thinking of curlers, cotton wraps over the forehead and behind the ears, a plastic bag holding it all in and tied in a knot to the side, and time with my head stuck in a huge bubble of a dryer with the roar of hot air drowning out the gossip from the stylists and their customers.

Every six months to a year I went back and watched the experts roll my hair into tight curls.

Then I stepped into a salon in my 20’s and told them I wanted my hair permed, needed my hair permed in fact because I couldn’t take the boring straightness of my boring hair with its boring style one more minute!

The lady sat me down in the chair, snipped a little with her scissors here and there and staged an intervention, refusing to perm my hair. She said I’d look better if I just learned to blow dry my straight tresses. Then, she pointed to a super model photo on the wall and promised that I could look like her if I could just get over my aversion to blow drying my hair.

I left the shop and cried in my car.

My hair had always been curled; it’s what I knew, how I thought I looked best. I couldn’t handle all that hair without bounce and body, weighing down on my face, getting in my way, and just ending up in a ponytail by noon.

And I ….hate…blow….drying….my…..hair.

I hate everything about it. My hair is porous and retains water like a pregnant woman. It’s long and heavy. It takes what seems like a million years to really dry it.

I could end world hunger and find homes for all the world’s orphans if I had all that time.

Beauty takes effort, though. Hours spent in a salon with chemicals and curlers for a perm, an eternity in front of my mirror holding a blow dryer, either way it’s an investment. It’s an effort.

For some, it’s manicures, for others it’s eyebrow waxing or plucking, tanning beds, vitamins, exercise sessions, hair coloring and wrinkle creams.

I’m a simple girl, really. Most of that is far beyond me and most days I’m a rebel and ditch the hair dryer in favor of “the wet look.”

That’s a real style, right?

But all those years of perming my hair taught me this: If external beauty takes the effort, the intentionality, the investment of time and resources, then surely internal beauty should require as much.

And I should be willing to pay a costly price and willingly sacrifice for faith like that, the kind that roots itself deep in my soul and blossoms out so full it pushes out all the ugly, the doubt, the worry, the anxiety, the selfishness, the bad attitudes, and the sin.

Faith–that’s a gift from God. It’s not something we work for or earn.

But I can choose to look to God for faith or reject His gift.

In her book, The Faith Dare: 30 Days to Live Your Life to the Fullest, Debbie Alsdorf talks about establishing the groove of faith spoken of in Psalm 84:

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it a place of springs…
They go from strength to strength
till each appears before God (vv. 5-7)

These pilgrims set their hearts on a God-destination. They purposed to journey to Him, transforming valleys into springs of refreshing life and fulfillment and joy along the way until they finally appeared before God–strengthened from the traveling, not fatigued and worn frail from the task.

Debbie Alsdorf writes:

I have to set my heart on the pilgrimage, which is an extended journey with a purpose…And I have to set my heart and mind on faith in God for the journey, the life he purposed for me alone (p. 12).

Here we begin, making this decision: No more distractions, turning aside for easier paths, growing
disheartened and taking refuge in tents along the road, following short-cuts that lead us astray, pursuing other destinations, and allowing others to talk us out of it.

We set our heart and mind on faith in God and we get going.

The Mystery of the Missing Dustpan

June 19, 2015June 16, 201514 Comments

My son lost our dustpan last week.

This is the second dustpan he has lost.

I do not know how these things happen. There really is no logical explanation, but my dustpan is lost just the same.

One day, I pulled out the broom, dustpan and mop and attacked the kitchen floor with cleaning vigor.

Then my son ‘swept’ the floor and ‘mopped’ it himself in a little game of pretend cleaning.

I, of course, did not stop this child because a little tiny boy who thinks chores are fun could grow up into a responsible adult.

So what if he just pushes the broom around the kitchen to no effect?

It’s adorable.

That is, it’s adorable until you put the broom back in the closet and realize the dustpan is MIA.

I mean, really, how well can you hide a dustpan? It’s such an awkward shape and it’s too large to fit into most of the drawers and stashing places around my kitchen.

I shrugged it off at first, figuring it would just turn up as I cleaned later that day, or week, or whatever.

It has not!

Last time this happened (yes, there was a last time), I broke down and bought a new dustpan the following week. This time, I kept hoping I’d find the top secret hiding place where he is stashing these things. Then, maybe I’d have two dustpans and new-found knowledge to help me prevent this crisis in the future.

Of course, now I’m truly appreciating the full value and utility of a really good dustpan. Without it, I was sweeping my kitchen floor dirt onto a piece of cardstock paper, until I finally broke down and paid the $1 for a new one….again.

And I’m thinking how many days I just swept my kitchen floor without giving that dustpan a half-second of thought or appreciation. I just used it. It’s a cheap, plastic tool, and I had no idea how much easier it made my life.

What have you been overlooking?

What have we been taking for granted, using without gratitude or appreciation or even worship?

What have we been grabbing out of our storeroom Christian closet and putting to work without fully valuing its impact or purpose?

I read Paul’s words today:

The first thing I want you to do is pray. Pray every way you know how, for everyone you know ( 1 Tim. 2:1 MSG).

Maybe you’ve been taking a spiritual gift for granted or you’ve trudged into church on Sunday or even just skipped the service and opted for a morning nap.

Perhaps your Bible is dust-covered and serving as a nightstand paper weight.

Or maybe you’ve stopped writing notes of encouragement to others or calling your friend or your sister and sharing a cup of coffee.

We do this. We get busy. We grow complacent. We do what we’re supposed to do without passion or joy just because it’s what we’re supposed to do.

We grab the appropriate tool, use it, and stash it back in the closet for the next cleaning day.

But I return to Paul’s words about prayer and I start here today.

I’m thankful for prayer. I want to acknowledge the power of it, the blessing of it, the gift of it.

I want to pray first, not second, not after I’ve tried everything else, not as a last resort or in one desperate act of hopelessness.

Pray first.

I want to pray about everything, not just what’s spiritual and holy or big enough to garner God’s attention. Everything. Every minor annoyance and daily need, every concern over my children, each new day and all it brings and the ministry God lays at my feet.

The disciples watched their resurrected Savior ascend into heaven and heard His command to wait for the Holy Spirit. They walked down off of that mountain and journeyed straight to Jerusalem.

¹³And when they had entered, they went up to the upper room, where they were staying… ¹⁴All these with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer… (Act 1:13, 14 ESV).

They went right to prayer. They devoted themselves to it. They lingered there.

Then, filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter delivered the sermon of all sermons.

Mac Lucado writes:

For ten days the disciples prayed. Ten days of prayer plus a few minutes of preaching led to three thousand saved souls. Perhaps we invert the numbers. We’re prone to pray for a few minutes and preach for tend days. Not the apostles.

The disciples didn’t pray for a preaching service. They just prayed. They treasured God’s presence, recognized His power, and acted because of His Spirit in them.

Pray first.

Pray for everything (yes, including the missing dustpan).

Pray for everyone.

Pray all day.

Pray, not for God to make things happen your way, but for God to be at work His way.

Just pray.

What have you been overlooking?

I Blame the Weather App

June 17, 2015June 16, 20153 Comments

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 recently 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 week, I foolishly thought ahead, gathered information, and made a plan for this week. 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 will 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).

When you’re tempted to react instead of respond

June 12, 2015June 9, 20154 Comments

I made a speech about it.

My oration covered the themes of procrastination, respect for others, taking things for granted, and gratitude. I delivered my speech while I drove in my minivan, while I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, and on the phone to my husband while he drove home from work.

It was a great speech and I delivered it really well. My points were well-argued and well-reasoned. By the time I finished, I had her accused, cross-examined and pronounced guilty on the stand.

This woman….

This woman had not only ignored my email messages, she had left the email group I was using to send out information about an upcoming event for her child.

So, how’s she going to know all the info that I’ll be sending out in the highly important emails she now had prevented me from sending her?

I mean, good gracious, what is wrong with people?

It wasn’t until the next day that I got hit in the face by the full impact of my foot flying into my mouth.

Turns out due to the odd spelling of her last name and some messy handwriting, I had mis-read her email address.

Turns out this woman had never gotten any of my messages I’d sent and I’d actually been blocked by some poor, random stranger who probably thought—this lady is out of her mind.

Oops.

Good thing all those speeches I made were to myself, my mirror, my one-year-old and my husband.

Serves me right for jumping to conclusions, for being easily offended and for judging without contemplation, without grace, without time for facts and truth and gentleness.

I was wrong. So, so very wrong. And I had to take a long humbling look at myself and see what was ugly, infected and festering in my heart.

The Psalmist says:

The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Psalm 103:8 ESV).

In fact, I read this song of worship all over my Bible. It is the hymn of God’s character:

“The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6 ESV).

‘The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression, but he will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and the fourth generation.’ Numbers 14:18 ESV

But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious,
    slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. Psalm 86:15 ESV

Return to the Lord your God,
    for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love;
    and he relents over disaster. Joel 2:13 ESV

I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster (Jonah 4:2 ESV)

I read it and I’m so thankful. I’m moved to worship, moved to humble gratitude.

Because if there’s one thing I need, it’s a God who is slow to anger, who is gracious and full of abundant mercy for a messy, sin-covered girl like me.

Yes, our God is Slow To Anger.

Are we?

We could chalk this up to divinity. That’s just who God is.

But no.

James writes:

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger (James 1:19 ESV).

Ouch.

God wants to do this work in me also.

He wants me to listen first and listen well before making speeches in my car or shooting off a nasty email or calling up a friend to gossip or jumping into conflict.

I am to be quick to hear, slow to speak.

And yes, slow to anger also.

More willing to bestow grace than to deliver an oration.

More apt to overlook an offense than leap into an argument.

More inclined to believe the best about another person’s intentions or motivations than assuming the worst and jumping to unfair conclusions.

More prone to listen and love even when someone else hurts us, because maybe they just had a bad day, maybe it’s not how things appear, maybe they just didn’t know or didn’t mean it that way.

This world doesn’t respond to situations. It reacts.

Heather C. King – Room to Breathe