Tag: Jesus

That Time I Did Spontaneous

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mark 14I did spontaneous.

This miracle happened right here two weeks ago. Yes, this Planning-Mom-Extraordinaire did spontaneous.

My son woke up from his afternoon nap and I loaded my kids into the minivan for a trip to the beach.  The library’s summer reading program is hosting a ‘drum circle’ every Wednesday evening along the beachfront.

So, we went.

They had drums of every size and variety, egg shakers and rain sticks, tambourines, maracas and more.  My son claimed the upside down 5-gallon bucket that he could beat on with a drum stick.

We played music.  My kids climbed on the playground.  We explored the library truck and found the exact book we’d been looking for since summer began.

Spontaneous trip success.

Then we headed on to our evening activities at church, driving through the KFC to grab a quick dinner first.

Now, I have yet to master the drive-thru ordering at KFC.  The options seem endless and I’m an overwhelmed soul feeling rushed by the mystery voice on the other side of the order screen.  “Hi!  May I take your order?'”

“Ummm…..”

I squint my eyes because they have all these meals with chicken and biscuits and sides and half gallons of lemonade and who knows what else and I can’t see the tiny little print underneath all of that.  I want chicken. I just want a bunch of pieces of chicken to feed all the people in my family.

Try ordering that through the little noise box, though.

Finally, I collect myself enough to order food, but I realize as they hand it out the window that I forgot to order a large lemonade for my kids to share.

Still, I had taken them to the beach.

I had let them play on the playground.

I had ordered them food from a drive-thru.

Surely, I still had some claim to supermom status.  I had Caprisuns and cold water.  Would that do?

No.  Not hardly.

A child (who shall remain nameless) could not get over the fact that I hadn’t ordered a drink.

Could. Not.

She glared.  She huffed.  She whined and complained and confronted me with my oversight.

Nothing makes you feel like a Mom-failure so much as an ungrateful child.

Really, it’s a struggle for me anyway.  Maybe it’s that way for all moms.  No matter how much we are doing, it just never feels like it’s enough.

It seems like others are doing better.  Other moms are more….more fun, more wise, more crafty, more creative, more gentle.

I’ve been working really hard this summer to improve my spontaneity, flexibility, and effort at playdates.

But every single time I do something spontaneous, flexible, fun and playdate-ish, they want to know when they can do it again. What about tomorrow?  What about a sleepover?

However much I’ve done, it’s just not enough.

Today, as I read Hope for the Weary Mom, I suck in my breath because she’s describing me:

“Communication is her best asset, but she often feels like she’s not good enough at having fun or coming up with creative ways to laugh and be spontaneous with her children”  (Brooke McGlothin).

And, she tells me the best way to combat that weariness and insecurity is to stop focusing on my weakness and start recognizing my strength.  She says, “Live freely in who God made you to be.”

I’m still thinking about this as I read the Scripture. Right there in the middle of 2 Chronicles of all places, I find it:

Ahaziah also followed the evil example of King Ahab’s family, for his mother encouraged him in doing wrong (2 Chronicles 22:3 NLT).

I’m not the perfect mom. None of us are.

But we also don’t have to be perfect.  God doesn’t expect that of us or require it.

I read about Ahaziah’s mom, how she actually encouraged him to do wrong, and I breathe deeply of grace.  Because if there’s one thing I do, it’s love Jesus and His Word.  Spontaneous might not be my thing, but encouraging my kids to do what is right—yeah, I’m totally into that.

So, I’m working on teaching my kids gratitude and appreciating what they have instead of greedily demanding more, more, and more….

But I’m also teaching myself that I don’t have to be the mom their friends have or the mom on Pinterest or Facebook.  I have to be the mom God has called me to be.

When the woman broke that alabaster jar and poured the perfume down over Jesus’ head, those at the table criticized her offering.  It wasn’t perfect, right, acceptable.

But Jesus said this, “She has done what she could” (Mark 14:8 NLT).

Dear Mom, God isn’t expecting you to be perfect; He finds your heartfelt, all-in offering beautiful.  He knows when you’ve done what you could and that is indeed enough.

Heather King is a busy-but-blessed wife and mom, a 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.

Want Honesty? Ask a Preschooler

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Psalm 51-6

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.

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.

When They Cancel the Fireworks on July Fourth

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psalm 118

“This is the best July 4th ever.”

That’s what my five-year-old said when I served up red, white, and blue pancakes for breakfast.

And again when we made star-shaped sugar cookies and Jello in patriotic colors.

She announced it at lunch when I sliced up the watermelon, in triangles, per her request.  No plain-old, everyday cubed watermelon.  Triangles are what people had at picnics.  They were exotic and special, making this the best July 4th ever.

She made her declaration when she had corn on the cob for dinner and when I popped popcorn to take with us to the fireworks.

We lugged our gear to the crowded beachfront and she said it again.  Family time at the beach with her grandparents?  Yup, the best July 4th ever.

And when the jellyfish stung her….

And even when the storm clouds showed up on the horizon and the news spread down the beach from family to family that the fireworks were canceled….it didn’t change a thing.  Best July 4th ever.  Even then.

She never waivered.  Never gave up.

Her sisters were doubters and naysayers.

They whined about the fireworks as if one July 4th without seeing live fireworks somehow destroyed all of their childhood memories and traditions.

I stood on the sidewalk while the five-year-old on my left still said, “It was the best July 4th ever” and the child on my right announced it was the “Worst July 4th ever” and desperately searched for alternative fireworks options to redeem the night.

She wanted to take back control.  You can’t control lightning and thunder showers, and that shocked her little system.  July 4th had to happen a particular way.  It had to include particular things.

And if it didn’t meet every expectation and check off every check box, than it was a big failure.

We stopped by the snow cone place on the way home for a final treat.

We cracked their glowsticks even if we weren’t sitting outside in the dark and my toddler giggled at the sight.

At home, we snuggled onto the couch and stayed up late watching the Washington, DC fireworks extravaganza on the TV, complete with cannon blasts and the 1812 Overture.

Maybe July 4th was different this year, but it was also beautiful and fun. Family memories and character-shaping happen most when life surprises you with the unexpected.

I told that to my kids as we finish up nighttime prayers.

You can’t always control every detail of life.  Weather changes.  Storms come.  Plans get changed or maybe cancelled.

Don’t throw a tantrum of disappointment or get worked up in a frenzy of effort trying to salvage the day.

Take a cue from their little sister, who celebrated the beautiful and the extraordinary all day long.

They nod their heads a bit and confess that it really was a great day.

I don’t know if the lesson sinks in, maybe it’s one you learn for a long time, maybe it’s one I’m still learning myself.

This…..this right here….the day you are living right this moment….could be the best day ever.  All it may take is some watermelon slices or some food coloring in pancake batter–and the joy of a five-year-old determined to celebrate.

How we deal with the unexpected, the surprises, the changes in our plans and the disappointments is one of the truest, most essential things about us and the greatest commentary on our faith.

This week, I read my youngest daughter a devotional about disappointed disciples, those who turned away from Jesus because His teaching was hard. It required so much.  It shocked their system and they just couldn’t keep following Jesus when He didn’t meet all of their expectations.

So, Jesus asked the remaining followers, “You do not want to go away also, do you?” (John 6:67 ESV).

That’s when Peter said it:

“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life.  We have believed and have come to know that You are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:68-69 ESV).

To whom shall we go?

Only Jesus has what we really need.

Maybe our plans don’t work out the way we hoped.

We planned for fireworks and then it rained on our little parade of expectations.

Maybe what Jesus asks us to do is hard.

Maybe we’re straining to see the beauty in what God is doing right here and now.

So, we press in and we press on. We don’t abandon Jesus and look for answers somewhere else like those followers who left Him. We lean on Him all the more.

He is the help we need, no matter what we face.  He is how we have joy and hope in every situation.

But it requires a letting go….and letting God.

And it requires a certain kind of faith, the joy-filled kind, the kind that rejoices in all that God is doing and all that God has done, and the kind that holds on tight and absolutely refuses to let go even when the hardest of times come.

This is the day the Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it
Psalm 118:24

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.

Copyright © 2015 Heather King

When the tiger piece doesn’t fit in the tiger space

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Psalm 77

My son drops the tiger-shaped piece onto the tiger-shaped space, but it doesn’t slip in easily.  It’s askew, just a bit.

He snatches the piece up and tries again.  Puzzle piece into the puzzle….almost.  It’s slightly off again.

Bang!  Slam!  Bang!  Slam!

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, apparently.

Over and over he tries.  He knows exactly how this puzzle should look in the end, how it will all fit together.

But it just….won’t…..go……in.

Finally, I cradle his hand with my own, helping him shift the piece, wiggle it a bit, shimmy it around until it can fit right into the puzzle with ease.

He protests with some rising pride and unwillingness to be helped:  “I can do it myself.”

But I insist.  I show him how to do it because he can’t do it on his own, not this time.  Next time, maybe.  With practice, yes.  With the skills I’ll show him, absolutely.

His resistance is familiar.  “I’ll do it myself.”

Sometimes I don’t even recognize my own little prideful tantrums and uprisings, my insistence that I do it myself, and if I just work at something long enough, maybe I’ll figure it out.

But this is what I do.

Last week, I wrestled in the night with a ‘problem.’

I felt like God was asking me to do something.  But if I did this, then that would happen and what about this possibility and that issue?  It was a train reaction of complications all initiated by my own act of obedience.

So, I lie there in bed in the middle of the night, slamming that puzzle piece down onto the board.

Slam!

What if I did this instead?

Bang!

What if I asked her to do this?

Slam!

What if we tried it this way?

Bang!

What would happen….?

Nothing fit.  I failed and failed and failed.

Finally, I stopped shoving, and straining, and making all this effort to work this out on my own and I prayed:

“God, this is not my problem.  It’s Your problem.  If You want me to do this, You’ll need to make a way for me to do this.  It’s got to be You.  All You.  Only You.  I just need to get out of the way and leave this in Your hands.”

Nothing has happened yet.  I’m still waiting.

I keep praying about it, of course, but I’m refusing to hunt for the fix or the solution any longer.  I’m just praying, “God, take care of this, please” and then moving along with my day.

This is hard.

My mind keeps slipping into the old habit, turning that problem over and over and looking for the new angle that will make everything fit.

But I think of Mary….

At the wedding at Cana, Jesus’ mother saw the problem.

No more wine for the wedding guests.  Social faux pax!  Party disaster!

She could have brainstormed solutions and considered all the posibilities.  She could have calmed down the hostess and offered strategies and fixes.

But instead, she brought the matter to Jesus, telling Him simply, ““They have no wine” (John 2:3 ESV).

Not, “They have no wine; please make them some wine from water.”

Not, “They have no wine; please miraculously keep everyone’s glasses full.”

She just told Jesus the facts of the situation: Here’s the problem.

And then she left it there with confidence, telling the servants:  “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5 ESV).

Who knows what she expected in that moment?  What possibilities had she considered?  What solution did she have in mind?

We just know that she trusted the Savior to handle the problems she faced, every detail of them,

It’s not easy, releasing that control, opening up those hands and letting the problem fall at the feet of Jesus instead of clutching it tightly to our chest.

But it pushes us into expectancy.

We hold our breath and open ours wide and we just can’t wait to see what God will do.

God, I have no idea how to fix this. 

The problem is too big.

I am too small.

Nothing I’ve thought of is the right answer. Nothing I could do would make this right.

But You are bigger and more powerful and more creative than anything or anyone.

So, it’s up to You.  I thank You in advance.  And, I sit back and watch to see You at work. It’s going to be quite a display of Your glory.

~Amen~

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.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Viktor Hanacek at PicJumbo

Made it to Mt. Everest and back (AKA finished the school year)

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Photo by Viktor Hanacek at PicJumbo
Most moms cry on the first day of school.

They watch their babies step onto that big yellow bus, faking smiles and putting on excitement for the sake of their children.  Then that bus pulls away and they pull out the tissues.

Not me.

I cry on the last day of school.

It’s hard to explain really.  I want my kids home and I long for summer all year.  I’ve never been one to celebrate with a mani/pedi that first day of school in September as if I’ve re-asserted my freedom from the constraints of children.

I cannot wait for summer to begin.

But somehow that last day of school for me is like the emotional upheaval of making it to the top of Mt. Everest and back.

We did it.

We survived.

Not just dragged our tired behinds across the finish line, either.  We had a great year and I’m so proud of these girls and all they’ve learned and how they’ve grown.

They. Rocked. It.

Now they bring home broken crayons, used gluesticks and a pile of awards and certificates and I just pray with this gratitude that spills out in those pesky tears like an emotional dam bursts and I’m just gushing:

Thank You, Lord.  You answered my prayers. You gave them great teachers.  You gave them success and helped them shine.  You guided them through a million tiny and seemingly not-so-tiny decisions and worries.

You brought us right on through and onto the other side and I am just so thankful.

Exhausted.

But thankful.

I’ll cry a bit.  And then maybe I’ll flop right down on this new shore and take a nap because this momma is plumb wore out.

There were times that I thought I could not make it if one more child brought home an unexpected project for school.

Could.

Not.

And I’ve discovered that I really do have a “look” that I flash whenever my child brings home a handwritten note in her best cursive writing asking for a playdate this Saturday when we have 12 other activities already on the weekend agenda.

But here we are.  The last day of school.

The last….day…..

I wonder how the disciples felt climbing out of that storm-tossed boat after fighting for their lives and stumbling in their faith right before the calm.

Did they crawl out of that fishing vessel, soaking wet, panting, dragging out one limb at a time and then stretch themselves out in the sand until they could catch their breath?

Or  did they hop out of there totally unflustered, like they hadn’t been screaming for rescue just moments before?

Something tells me they didn’t just shrug that typhoon off and move along.

Maybe they took the time to cry and thank God for salvation.

Like me today.

I knew we’d make it, though.  At times it felt like I was hanging on for dear life, but I knew He is faithful.

God’s grace does that.  It holds us up and carries us on, and our calling is never too much for Him to handle.

Too much for us?  All the time.

Too much for Him?  Not for a second.

So we throw the full weight of our survival onto Him, casting those cares over and over onto shoulders strong enough to carry them.

We trust in His promise.

Those storm-weary disciples could have done this.

Jesus didn’t invite them out for a pleasure cruise that day.  He didn’t tell them, “Get in the boat so we can sail around for a bit and maybe catch some fish.”

He gave them a promise of destination:

 Now it happened, on a certain day, that He got into a boat with His disciples. And He said to them, “Let us cross over to the other side of the lake.” And they launched out.  Luke 8:22 NKJV

Jesus never abandons us halfway.  If He makes a promise, we know He won’t abandon us in the boat.   He’ll take us to the other side.

So the storm rages.  So your boat groans and creaks.  So those around you start scrambling into life vests, preparing to abandon ship.

Just hold on.

God has promised to take you to the other side.  He is faithful and He will do it.

Originally posted June 11, 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.

30 Bible Verses on Having a Humble Heart

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verseshumble

  1. Deuteronomy 8:2-3 ESV
    And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. 3 And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word[a] that comes from the mouth of the Lord.
  2. 2 Chronicles 7:14 ESV
     if my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.
  3. Psalm 18:27 ESV
    For you save a humble people,
        but the haughty eyes you bring down.
  4. Psalm 25:8-9 ESV
    Good and upright is the Lord;
        therefore he instructs sinners in the way.
    9 He leads the humble in what is right,
        and teaches the humble his way.
  5. Psalm 55:19 ESV
    God will give ear and humble them,
        he who is enthroned from of old, Selah
    because they do not change
        and do not fear God.
  6. Psalm 147:6 ESV
    The Lord lifts up the humble;
        he casts the wicked to the ground.
  7. Psalm 149:4 ESV
    For the Lord takes pleasure in his people;
        he adorns the humble with salvation.
  8. Proverbs 11:2 ESV
    When pride comes, then comes disgrace,
        but with the humble is wisdom.
  9. Proverbs 15:33 ESV
    The fear of the Lord is instruction in wisdom,
        and humility comes before honor.
  10. Proverbs 18:12 ESV
    Before destruction a man’s heart is haughty,
        but humility comes before honor.
  11. Proverbs 22:4 ESV
    The reward for humility and fear of the Lord
        is riches and honor and life.
  12. Proverbs 29:23 ESV
    One’s pride will bring him low,
        but he who is lowly in spirit will obtain honor.
  13. Daniel 4:37 ESV
     Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven,for all his works are right and his ways are just; and those who walk in pride he is able to humble.
  14. Micah 6:8 ESV
    He has told you, O man, what is good;
        and what does the Lord require of you
    but to do justice, and to love kindness,
        and to walk humbly with your God?
  15. Matthew 11:29-30 ESV
     Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
  16. Matthew 23:12 ESV
    Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.
  17. Mark 9:35 ESV
     And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”
  18. Luke 9:48 ESV
    and said to them, “Whoever receives this child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me. For he who is least among you all is the one who is great.”
  19. Luke 14:11 ESV
    For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
  20. 1 Corinthians 1:28-29 ESV
    God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, 29 so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.
  21. Romans 12:16 ESV
    Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.
  22. Galatians 5:13 NIV
    You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.
  23. Ephesians 4:1-3 ESV
    I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 3 eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
  24. Philippians 2:3 ESV
    Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.
  25. Philippians 2:5-8 ESV
    Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, 6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant,being born in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
  26. Colossians 3:12 ESV
    Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience,
  27. James 3:13 NIV
     Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.
  28. James 4:10 ESV
     Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.
  29. 1 Peter 3:8 ESV
    Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind.
  30. 1 Peter 5:5-6 ESV
    Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”6 Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you,

Would You Give Up Your Favorite Seat in Church?

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1john4-19

One of our cats ran away for a 30-hour trek into the woods.

Our other cat stayed home.

In sympathy, my daughters talked about our large black cat missing his smaller orange “brother.”  He meowed and we thought it was a meow of sadness.  My three-year-old showed him extra affection out of concern for his worried feline heart.

Maybe he was just meowing because he was hungry.

Because when our orange cat finally sauntered home at 2 a.m., the stay-at-home cat seemed to care less at first.

Then the hissing started.

Four days later there was still hissing.

The prodigal tries to eat food, or brush up close to the larger cat, or snuggle up on the bed where the stay-at-home cat is napping.

And we hear the ugliest, most evil hissing sound.  It’s hardly a warm reception for our runaway.

We have the classic case of the prodigal son and the older brother who remained at home working the fields.  It’s playing itself out between a behemoth black cat and a skittish orange cat in our very own home.

And this I understand just a tiny bit.003

In Scripture, the prodigal son demanding his inheritance before his father’s death was more than just a young adult rebellion and a little bit of wandering and partying before responsible adulthood.

Sure it sounds so calm and level-headed at first glance when the younger son said to his dad, “Father, give me the share of the estate I have coming to me” (Luke 15:12).

Yet, it was really the ultimate rejection of a parent.  In essence, the prodigal son said, “I wish you were dead, so I’m going to take my inheritance and leave as if you had already died.”

We sometimes miss the enormity of the disrespect and insult and treat the prodigal as if he just had a wild stage that he needed to get out of his system or simply a little curiosity about the big wide world.

But it was so much more than that.  It was cutting off that relationship in what the son knew was a permanent, hurtful, totally destructive, rude, and unfeeling way.

“I don’t want to ever see you again.  I wish you were dead.  I hate you.”

That’s what the son said.

And here I am with this runaway cat, feeling the tiniest bit of rejection (and worry) that he would choose a night outside over our cozy home with food, fresh water, and places to stretch out for comfortable naps.

How much more the hurt of that father watching his son slamming doors and shouting in anger?

Of course, in their case when this same prodigal son crawled home, humbled and hurting, the father killed the fatted calf and threw a Welcome Home party.

And we haven’t done that.  No special treatment.  No canned tuna opened to celebrate our cat’s return.  It’s just business as usual for us.

But still our other cat hisses in annoyance like that older brother in the field, re-asserting his authority and his territorial rights. It’s more than a bit ugly.

Every week, folks might walk through our church doors who we’ve never seen before or those we haven’t seen for a long time.

In some cases, they will be simple visitors, passing through the sanctuary for only a brief time.  Others might be long-lost friends.  Still others might be the prodigals slipping into the pews, hoping not to draw too much attention to themselves.

And we have to choose how to welcome them.

With open arms.

Or with territorial hissing.

Or unforgiveness.

Or sanctimonious displays of righteousness and very little grace.

This past week, I read of a woman who slipped into the pews of a church before the service began one Sunday morning.  She bowed her head low and cried, mourning the death of her son.

A woman in the church walked over and stood looming over her while she prayed.

Finally, the visitor looked up expecting someone to pray for her or hug her or ask how to help her.

Instead, she was told, “I’ve been attending this church for 17 years and that’s my seat.”

That’s the ugly sound of hissing.

We do this in other ways, making us 200-or-so “older brothers” feel mighty cozy on a Sunday morning while showing the prodigals they really aren’t welcome here.

Perhaps we need the reminder to leave room–and not just pew space–for the younger brothers returning home, for the lost, and for the hurting.

How do you make visitors, new folks, and pretty much anyone feel welcome in your church?

Originally posted March 25, 2013

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.

 

The One Thing I Forget To Pray About That Really Needs Prayer

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luke 19

Our prodigal finally tiptoed through our backdoor at 2 a.m. last night.

We’ve had our orange cat for about 12 years now.  I picked him out of a litter of tiny strays at the Humane Society when we lived in New Jersey.  He was strikingly beautiful with swirls of white in his fur.

And he was terrified of us and the world.

When people visited us, our other more-friendly goliath of a black cat would greet them at the door, and our orange skittish feline would hide away for safety.002

Since he had lived outside as a newborn before he was taken to the Humane Society, what he knew was the outdoors.  For years, he would stomp all over my potted plants to push their leaves down and then sleep on the soil.

At some point, this Scaredy-Cat, who is supposed to stay inside, got a taste of the outdoors again.  At first, it was little excursions out the back door.  Then longer jaunts into the wooded area behind our house.

On Wednesday night, he ran out in the evening and didn’t run on back home after an hour.

So, we went into “recovery” mode.  I opened the back door and made a loud production of pouring food into his food dish.  My husband searched the yard and called his name.  We left the door cracked open all night and put his cat bed out on the deck.

And we prayed.

But he didn’t come home.  Not all that night.  Not all the next day, even though I abandoned chores to trek through the woods calling his name and spent the rest of the day peering out the back windows watching for him to shoot up the stairs of the deck.

…Not even after I started to suggest to my daughters that maybe he wasn’t coming home and they invented adventure stories about how he made a new friend or went to kitty preschool or visited the cat doctor.

…Not after we bowed our heads as a family and each daughter and parent prayed that Oliver would come home.

At 2 a.m., though, I woke abruptly and fought the urge to roll back over and go back to sleep.  I fumbled for my glasses and plodded in bare feet to the back door, expecting to see an empty deck.

Instead, I saw our orange cat nibbling at the food we’d left for him. He lifted his face to look at me as if nothing had ever happened, and when I opened up the door, he just tiptoed inside nonchalantly like it was no big deal whatsoever.

All that time he was gallivanting through the woods or maybe hunkered down somewhere trying to keep warm, I thought and prayed about this cat.  Every time I walked outside,I thought about him.

And I’m not sure I ever really understood Jesus’ passionate, intense, and committed pursuit of the lost and the prodigals until now.

I was worried about a cat.

He’s concerned about people He loves enough to die for.

Sure, I read the parables in Luke 15.  The Lost Coin.  The Lost Sheep.  The Lost Son (there’s that prodigal).

I thought I knew–Yes, “the Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10 HCSB).

But I really didn’t understand.  Not the way that they would linger on His mind or how He’d put aside other agendas to pursue them or that He’d keep searching long after most of us would lose all hope.

He leaves the 99 sheep, to wander the hillside looking for the one stray.

He runs full speed toward the prodigal returning home and welcomes him in, celebrating rather than chastising.

And that woman who lost the one silver coin—I’ve been there.  Turning on all the lights.  Sweeping the whole house.  Scripture says she would “search carefully until she finds it” (Luke 15:8).  I don’t know what “carefully” looks like for her, but it sounds so methodical and orderly.

My searches look more like frantic overturning of dresser drawers, tossing things out of closets, sweeping papers off of desks and rumbling through junk all while whispering desperate prayers that God would just help this crazy woman find this oh-so-important-thing already!

I lose that for people too much of the time, that willingness to keep on relentlessly praying for the lost and the fervent intercession for and seeking out of the prodigals.

I struggle to confess–it’s ugly, but true—I think I felt more worry over my runaway cat and more desperation about finding missing pieces of paper than over the wayward and hurting around me.

And that needs to change.

Do you need to re-commit to praying for lost loved ones or loving the prodigals you know?

Originally published MARCH 22, 2013

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.

Copyright © 2015 Heather King

Band-Aids Fix Everything

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john13-34

I fought the good fight.

I lost.

It must be some guaranteed stage of child development:  The Band-Aid stage.

It’s that season when kids believe in the magic of the Band-Aid to insta-heal all bumps, bruises, minor aches, pains, and scratches.

I have endured tantrums.

I have given speeches: You don’t need a Band-Aid for any casualty that doesn’t involve an open wound and significant blood loss. 

But really.  Truly.  As a mom, it’s easier just to pop that glorified sticker over the bruise and be done with it rather than arguing unsuccessfully with a two-year-old about proper Band-Aid usage.

Maybe it wasn’t even the Band-Aid my kids needed; I know this.  Perhaps it was the acknowledgement: I see you hurting.  I’m tending to this need.  I’m not going to leave you here aching alone, wounds sore, pain throbbing. 

This is, after all, why Mom-kisses on the tiniest of boo-boos are where the miracle cures begin.  Because the love and attention and the simply doing something–anything– says, “I love you,” louder than any actual words.

This is the Mom-life and the life of nurses, care providers, teachers,  grandmas, and true friends.

It’s saying, “I care about you,” and meaning it at night when it costs you sleep and during the day when it costs you patience.

It means never pouring a cup of tea or a soda and drinking it all down yourself.  It means spending all day putting other people first and scheduling every moment of your life around the schedules of other people.

“Motherhood is the big-leagues of self-sacrifice.” That’s what Rachel Jankovic wrote.

And this is the sacrifice, she tells me, that God finds such a sweet-smelling aroma.

We worship Him as we lay ourselves down, offering our lives to others, burning up our selfishness on the altar.

And, after all, as a mom shouldn’t I be thankful that for now a Band-Aid is all it takes to soothe the pain?

Sadly, that won’t last.

This world pesters and pounds, and wounds aren’t always so superficial and easy-to-heal.  Sometimes they dig deep.  Sometimes they fester and infect; they spread and ache long after we’ve bandaged over them.

So our calling becomes this: loving others enough to care about the depth of the pain rather than just covering over it with an ineffective Band-Aid.

Sure, we could snatch that trusty box down from the cabinet shelf and toss a sticky bandage over a hurt.  All better.  Stop your crying.  No need to fuss.  Don’t you see the Band-Aid I’ve slapped on your skin?

This is what Queen Esther did, unknowingly, of course.  She heard of her cousin Mordecai’s distress.  How he had torn apart his clothes and now sat at the city gate, covered over with burlap and ashes, wailing with loud bitterness.

She responded with concern, but without listening and understanding.  Yes, she essentially snatched down the box of Band-Aids and sent one his way:

“She sent clothes for Mordecai to wear so he could take off his sackcloth, but he did not accept them” (Esther 4:4 HCSB).

That’s what she thought would help, just superficial care.  Change your clothes.  Stop that mourning, Mordecai, and everything will be well.

But he needed so much more.

He needed her to put her life on the line for her entire people by interceding with the king.  Mordecai needed self-sacrifice, unselfishness, and humility.  A change of clothes simply wasn’t enough.

When we love, we also need to take the time, to make the time, to thrust our hands into a hemorrhaging wound, if necessary, and become a right bloody mess in order to stop the bleeding out.

Jesus did this

He didn’t leave us desperately sick and dying.  If he had only healed some physical hurts, if he had simply taught some important truths, if he had solely righted a few social injustices, he would have given Band-Aid care for a terminal disease.

Yet, Jesus did more, sacrificing His life for ours, because he knew we needed radical intervention to save our dying selves.

And then He asks us to live this life of love:  

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

Loving with Band-Aids some days.  Loving with time and attention on others.  Loving with messy healing and laying ourselves down at times.

But loving like Jesus always.

Happy Mother’s Day, National Nurses Week, and Teacher Appreciation Week to all of you!!!
Thank you for all your care and sacrifice for others.

Originally published May 10, 2013

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.

Copyright © 2015 Heather King

 

Look at Me (The Teacher’s Mantra)

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psalm 121

Look at me.

Look, look, look at me.

You’re not looking at me.

You need to look at me.

Look. At. Me.

Please.

That’s what she’s going to say this morning to the adorable and restless group of four-year-olds who are practicing their songs for their spring program.

She’s a teacher who knows these little cherubs will be just fine if they focus their eyes on her.

They’ll know when to start singing.  They’ll know what words to sing.  They’ll know when to stop singing and when to rest instead of barreling right through the song so they can get to the big finish.

But they’re four.

And they’re excited.

They are also occasionally annoyed with each other for various infractions such as not sitting in the right place, talking when they aren’t supposed to be talking, touching someone else’s hair, or messing up the singing.

They are eager to wave at the piano player (that’s me) while climbing up the steps to the stage, which inevitably holds up the rest of the line.

They are distracted by the child next to them, the child in front of them, and their own fingernails which apparently merit their undivided attention in the middle of a song.

So, no matter how many times their ever-patient teacher says, “Look at me,’ they forget.

And they look away, maybe at their neighbor or their fingers or the pianist.  They look anywhere and everywhere but at the teacher.

Then there is the miracle moment, that one microsecond in time when the whole class actually looks at the teacher and we all smile back at them because they just sound great and their parents are going to take tons of pictures and post lots of videos on Facebook because four-year-olds are awesome.

Here’s the truth, though.

Preschooler aren’t the only ones who are easily distracted.

I know another choir directer in her nineties and I’ll tell you what she has to say to her own adult choir all the time.

Look at me.

Let’s be honest.  Most of the time that’s probably what God is saying to us.

We’re a distractable lot, us humans, easily caught up in everything around us and everything within us.  We may grow up, but we don’t necessarily grow out of it.

We’re distracted by others around us.

Why are they doing that?  It’s invading my space.  It’s so annoying.  She is doing it wrong!  That not right and it’s not fair!

She sings better than me.  Why is she so perfect?  How come I can’t look like her or sing like her or act like her?

We’re perpetually distracted by circumstances.

The bills are too much.  The job is too difficult.  The marriage is too strained.  The kids are too lost.  This is hopeless and impossible.

We’re distracted by our own inner voices.

You are a failure.  You’re a mess.  I give up!  I cannot do this.  I’m not capable.  It’s just too hard.  I’m not equipped, not strong enough, not sufficient!

We’re whining and complaining.  Maybe flat out freaking out.  Throwing a tantrum.  Collapsing under the strain of anxiety.

But God is saying what He’s always said:  Look.  At.  Me.

The Psalmist wrote:

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
    From where does my help come?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth.

It’s an ascension Psalm, one in a series of songs the Jewish travelers would sing during their climb up to Jerusalem for the feasts and celebrations, a traveler’s hymn and a pilgrim’s chorus.

And, aren’t we all travelers here?

The journey had its dangers.  Stumbling over rocks (verse 3), heat stroke and even moonstroke (verse 6).

Life is dangerous still.

But the promise is there.  Our help doesn’t come from looking down at our clumsy feet.  It doesn’t come from looking to the mountains, the sun, the moon, our fellow travelers, or the evil that threatens to overpower us.

We don’t need to look anywhere at all except at the Lord because our help comes from Him.

The Psalmist repeats a thought, over and over again like the rhythm of the waves beating against a shore:

    he who keeps you will not slumber.
4 Behold, he who keeps Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord is your keeper….

7 The Lord will keep you from all evil;
    he will keep your life.
8 The Lord will keep
    your going out and your coming in
    from this time forth and forevermore (Psalm 121 ESV).

The Lord is your keeper.

Look at Him for guidance, for encouragement, for help, for strength, for assurance, for conviction, for compassion, for salvation, for provision, for direction.

Look at Him.

 

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.