I've always loved the word "Maranatha". It has such a beautiful flow to it, and it just sounds so rich. I've never really been able to use it, though. I've never liked what it means.
"Come, O Lord."
I've never quite been ready to say that. I like my life. I always have. Sure, there have been super hard parts - things I would much, much rather do without. There were days in junior high that I thought I'd be better off dead. I have a lot of memories I wish I didn't have. I've cried more tears than I hope to ever cry again. I've held people in pain both in their hearts and in their bodies. But none of it has ever been bad enough that I would wish for this life to end and the New Life to begin.
I know I should want that. I know my hope should be in the soon return of Christ, but I just have too much to look forward to.
I wanted to get married. I wanted to have kids. I want to see my kids grow up. I want to see my family members come to know the Lord.
But finally today I said "Maranatha" and I meant it.
My friends hurt. They hurt in ways people should never have to hurt. They hurt in ways that I have lived my whole life dreading that I, myself, would hurt, and there is nothing I can do to fix it. Why? Because this world is broken. That's just the way it is. And until Christ comes again, this world can never be right.
I'm out of tears tonight. My prayers are starting to repeat themselves. I still can't fix the pain in my dear friends' hearts. And more than ever before in my life, my heart yearns for things to be right.
Come, O Lord. Maranatha.
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
A Stubborn Mule in the Grip of Grace
"God, give me grace!"
I pray this prayer at minimum 57 times a day regarding my children. Another tantrum, another injury, another early morning after another bad night. My kids require so much more grace than I ever knew I would need and oh-so-much more than have to give. Which is a good thing, I suppose. It keeps me drinking from the Well, that's for sure.
As I go through my day pleading each moment for another rain of tenderness toward my children, it's easy to get caught dwelling on, well, why they're demanding so much grace in the first place (i.e. another tantrum, another injury, getting up way too early again). When I feel like I'm reaching the end of my grace rope, my tendency is to pray away the things that are driving me nuts.
"Lord, remove this stubbornness in his heart!" "God, his recklessness will be the death of me...or him...or both! How do I make him more cautious?!"
But what if, instead of asking God to graciously remove the things in my kids that I don't like, I ask him to get a grip on those things and never let go.
I think every parent has dreams for his or her children. We imagine what their personalities will be, who they'll marry, the careers they'll have, how self-sufficient they'll be (nursing moms dwell on this a lot). We look at our children's strengths and wonder how God will use his creativity, or her gentleness, or his natural leadership. It's not hard to imagine God using a friendly disposition or a love for learning to His glory. It's another matter, however, when all we feel like we see are tears over hurt feelings and selfish swiping of toys.
One day recently, as I sat on the edge of the tub after disciplining my son again (my place of refuge when I need a minute to recoup), I was praying a prayer of exasperation that is all too common these days, "God, he is so stubborn!" In that moment I remembered my prayer for my boys that morning. "Lord, make them men who know how to persevere. Who don't give up just because things are hard, but who will push through knowing that their goal and their hope are worth it."
Suddenly, I felt and knew this truth: Perseverance is stubbornness in the grip of God's grace.
Whoa.
My mommy world was shaken and a whole new horizon was opened.
That same stubbornness that I just had to discipline my son for could be the answer to my morning prayer for my boys if only he would let God get a hold of his stubborn heart.
Even the darkest things I see in my kids (and in myself, now that you mention it) can be used to the honor and glory of God. He doesn't have to take things away from their personality to make them effective for His name. All that needs to happen is that they humble themselves before the Lord, and the grip of His grace will shape them into effective ministers for His glory.
So, Lord, take a hold of my son's stubbornness and build him into a man who perseveres. Grab my son's recklessness and turn it into a fearlessness for your Truth. Help me to see the ways that you have uniquely gifted my children to show your glory to this world, and make me a minister of your grace to them, helping shape them into the men you have designed them to be.
- Is your son cocky? Imagine the advantages of sharing the Gospel with such confidence.
- Is your daughter a know-it-all? The Lord could use some assertive truth-tellers.
- Is your son a tantrum thrower? I'll bet God could use such passion.
- Is your daughter bossy? The church needs people with vision and organization.
- Are your kids whiners? God desperately wants people to be vocal about injustice.
What do you see in your children that drives you nuts? What makes you say, "God, give me grace!" What could that trait become in the grip of God's grace? Let's pray that the sinfulness we see in our children's hearts will be transformed into mighty tools for the Kingdom of God.
I pray this prayer at minimum 57 times a day regarding my children. Another tantrum, another injury, another early morning after another bad night. My kids require so much more grace than I ever knew I would need and oh-so-much more than have to give. Which is a good thing, I suppose. It keeps me drinking from the Well, that's for sure.
As I go through my day pleading each moment for another rain of tenderness toward my children, it's easy to get caught dwelling on, well, why they're demanding so much grace in the first place (i.e. another tantrum, another injury, getting up way too early again). When I feel like I'm reaching the end of my grace rope, my tendency is to pray away the things that are driving me nuts.
"Lord, remove this stubbornness in his heart!" "God, his recklessness will be the death of me...or him...or both! How do I make him more cautious?!"
But what if, instead of asking God to graciously remove the things in my kids that I don't like, I ask him to get a grip on those things and never let go.
I think every parent has dreams for his or her children. We imagine what their personalities will be, who they'll marry, the careers they'll have, how self-sufficient they'll be (nursing moms dwell on this a lot). We look at our children's strengths and wonder how God will use his creativity, or her gentleness, or his natural leadership. It's not hard to imagine God using a friendly disposition or a love for learning to His glory. It's another matter, however, when all we feel like we see are tears over hurt feelings and selfish swiping of toys.
One day recently, as I sat on the edge of the tub after disciplining my son again (my place of refuge when I need a minute to recoup), I was praying a prayer of exasperation that is all too common these days, "God, he is so stubborn!" In that moment I remembered my prayer for my boys that morning. "Lord, make them men who know how to persevere. Who don't give up just because things are hard, but who will push through knowing that their goal and their hope are worth it."
Suddenly, I felt and knew this truth: Perseverance is stubbornness in the grip of God's grace.
Whoa.
My mommy world was shaken and a whole new horizon was opened.
That same stubbornness that I just had to discipline my son for could be the answer to my morning prayer for my boys if only he would let God get a hold of his stubborn heart.
Even the darkest things I see in my kids (and in myself, now that you mention it) can be used to the honor and glory of God. He doesn't have to take things away from their personality to make them effective for His name. All that needs to happen is that they humble themselves before the Lord, and the grip of His grace will shape them into effective ministers for His glory.
So, Lord, take a hold of my son's stubbornness and build him into a man who perseveres. Grab my son's recklessness and turn it into a fearlessness for your Truth. Help me to see the ways that you have uniquely gifted my children to show your glory to this world, and make me a minister of your grace to them, helping shape them into the men you have designed them to be.
- Is your son cocky? Imagine the advantages of sharing the Gospel with such confidence.
- Is your daughter a know-it-all? The Lord could use some assertive truth-tellers.
- Is your son a tantrum thrower? I'll bet God could use such passion.
- Is your daughter bossy? The church needs people with vision and organization.
- Are your kids whiners? God desperately wants people to be vocal about injustice.
What do you see in your children that drives you nuts? What makes you say, "God, give me grace!" What could that trait become in the grip of God's grace? Let's pray that the sinfulness we see in our children's hearts will be transformed into mighty tools for the Kingdom of God.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Potty Training the Disciples
On the mommy side of things potty training is tough. And messy. And exasperating at times. Since I've been doing my business in the commode for quite some time now, it's beyond me how something so simple (and so sanitary) just isn't clicking for my 2-year-old. How could he not know how to do it? And when he does do it, why does he not keep doing it? Why doesn't he get it?!
I had a moment the other day that I'm sure any mother of a potty trained toddler has experienced. I asked him if he had to potty. He said yes. He sat on the potty. Nothing happened. He left the bathroom. He cleared out the linen closet. He closed the door. He opened the door. He said, "all wet in there." We changed his underwear. Again.
After he went on his merry way I sat in the bathroom feeling so frustrated, just asking the Lord to give me the grace to love my son well. I knew he wasn't trying to pee everywhere but the toilet. I knew he wanted to do what mommy was asking him to. But something just wasn't computing for him, and I was left following him around with paper towels, a spray bottle, and a headache.
But, as is often the case, God gave me so much more than the grace I was asking for. He gave me a clue.
In Bible study we have been working our way through the gospel of John. It has been so refreshing just to look at the Jesus that we claim to know, to study his words and his actions, and to discuss what they show us about the Christ that came as the Savior of the world. Keeping a pretty rapid pace, I've been able to notice some things that have either escaped my attention before, or that I just didn't realize the significance of. One of those things is the faith of the disciples. John's stated purpose for writing that book is found in John 20:31. "These things are written that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you might have life in His name." Everything that is included in the book is intended to solidify faith in who Jesus was and what He came to do. But the disciples just.didn't.get it.
It's amazing to me how often they would say to each other, "What does he mean?" or "We don't know what he's talking about." And Jesus says to them (more than once), "Do you still not understand?" How is it possible that, after He recently fed five thousand people, they still ask, "How are we going to feed them all?" How can they not get it?!
And then there's me. How can I read the Bible, do the studies, talk about it, teach about it, sing songs with my sons about it, and still not get it?
As I sat there on the edge of the bathtub, sighing about another puddle to clean, asking that God would help me be gracious as my son learned what was right, I became very, very aware of Christ's patience with his chosen disciples and the Lord's continued grace toward me. And I was so grateful for the verses that we read this week:
Then Jesus’ disciples said, “Now you are speaking clearly and without figures of speech. Now we can see that you know all things and that you do not even need to have anyone ask you questions. This makes us believe that you came from God.” “You believe at last!" Jesus answered.
They got it! They finally, truly got it! Since I am eagerly awaiting that day when I know my son really gets it, I have a small sense of the delight that must have brought to Jesus.
After all, I'm just cleaning up tiny messes of a two-year-old. He was cleaning up the sin of the entire world. Praise God for His grace during the training period.
I had a moment the other day that I'm sure any mother of a potty trained toddler has experienced. I asked him if he had to potty. He said yes. He sat on the potty. Nothing happened. He left the bathroom. He cleared out the linen closet. He closed the door. He opened the door. He said, "all wet in there." We changed his underwear. Again.
After he went on his merry way I sat in the bathroom feeling so frustrated, just asking the Lord to give me the grace to love my son well. I knew he wasn't trying to pee everywhere but the toilet. I knew he wanted to do what mommy was asking him to. But something just wasn't computing for him, and I was left following him around with paper towels, a spray bottle, and a headache.
But, as is often the case, God gave me so much more than the grace I was asking for. He gave me a clue.
In Bible study we have been working our way through the gospel of John. It has been so refreshing just to look at the Jesus that we claim to know, to study his words and his actions, and to discuss what they show us about the Christ that came as the Savior of the world. Keeping a pretty rapid pace, I've been able to notice some things that have either escaped my attention before, or that I just didn't realize the significance of. One of those things is the faith of the disciples. John's stated purpose for writing that book is found in John 20:31. "These things are written that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you might have life in His name." Everything that is included in the book is intended to solidify faith in who Jesus was and what He came to do. But the disciples just.didn't.get it.
It's amazing to me how often they would say to each other, "What does he mean?" or "We don't know what he's talking about." And Jesus says to them (more than once), "Do you still not understand?" How is it possible that, after He recently fed five thousand people, they still ask, "How are we going to feed them all?" How can they not get it?!
And then there's me. How can I read the Bible, do the studies, talk about it, teach about it, sing songs with my sons about it, and still not get it?
As I sat there on the edge of the bathtub, sighing about another puddle to clean, asking that God would help me be gracious as my son learned what was right, I became very, very aware of Christ's patience with his chosen disciples and the Lord's continued grace toward me. And I was so grateful for the verses that we read this week:
Then Jesus’ disciples said, “Now you are speaking clearly and without figures of speech. Now we can see that you know all things and that you do not even need to have anyone ask you questions. This makes us believe that you came from God.” “You believe at last!" Jesus answered.
They got it! They finally, truly got it! Since I am eagerly awaiting that day when I know my son really gets it, I have a small sense of the delight that must have brought to Jesus.
After all, I'm just cleaning up tiny messes of a two-year-old. He was cleaning up the sin of the entire world. Praise God for His grace during the training period.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Walking in a Winter Worryland
I'm a worrier by nature. I never really knew this about myself until a few years ago I was talking to my sister about one of her children. She was describing my niece to me and she said, "She's a worrier...a lot like you." (I took me a minute to figure out that she said "worrier" not "warrior". That was disappointing, but far more accurate, I suppose.)
In retrospect, though, I had to admit she was completely on point.
When my dad was late coming home from work, I assumed he had been in a horrible accident.
When I can't get a hold of a family member, surely some great danger has befallen them.
When I get a phone call from someone out of the blue, I'm positive they're going to relay some tragic message.
I won't even tell you the thoughts that went through my mind when I was in VA and I couldn't get a hold of my husband in TX all night. (I put him on NyQuil probation after that one.)
My husband told me last night I come up with the worst possible scenario on my mind and then act as if it's the reality of my life.
So here I sit, totally stressing myself out about things over which I have absolutely no control and, frankly, things that I'm not even sure are the case. And I say to myself worry is a sin. I remind myself to cast all my cares on Him. I'm trying to present my request with thanksgiving and then let it go.
But I still have a knot in my stomach.
How do we really, genuinely, completely lay our anxieties down? I'm sitting here in a rare, quiet moment trying to be the good Christian who trusts her God.
But my head is throbbing.
In my prayers I plead with God to help me trust Him. I know He is good. I know He cares. I know His hands are capable. I know my hands are not.
But when I think about it, my heart races.
And then I read some words that pierced through the dark, anxious cloud hanging around me.
Our lives are full of supposes. Suppose this should happen, or suppose that should happen; what could we do; how could we bear it? But, if we are living in the high tower of the dwelling place of God, all these supposes will drop out of our lives. We shall be quiet from the fear of evil, for no threatenings of evil can penetrate into the high tower of God. Even when walking through the valley of the shadow of death, the psalmist could say, will fear no evil; and, if we are dwelling in God, we can say so too.
~Hannah Whitall Smith
You see, it makes all the difference when I consider my vantage point. I am not lying on the ground being buried under the troubles of this life. I am high above the worried world, safe and secure in the Shelter of the Most High God. What, for crying out loud, am I so very afraid of?
My tummy is still a little fluttery. My head definitely still hurts. I'm very much looking forward to getting some answers and putting this all behind me.
But, under the wings of God is a very good place to be. There is rest here. There is comfort here. There is a nice, gentle breeze up this high. And I'm very willing to scoot over if you want to join me up here.
Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
~Psalm 91:1-2,4
In retrospect, though, I had to admit she was completely on point.
When my dad was late coming home from work, I assumed he had been in a horrible accident.
When I can't get a hold of a family member, surely some great danger has befallen them.
When I get a phone call from someone out of the blue, I'm positive they're going to relay some tragic message.
I won't even tell you the thoughts that went through my mind when I was in VA and I couldn't get a hold of my husband in TX all night. (I put him on NyQuil probation after that one.)
My husband told me last night I come up with the worst possible scenario on my mind and then act as if it's the reality of my life.
So here I sit, totally stressing myself out about things over which I have absolutely no control and, frankly, things that I'm not even sure are the case. And I say to myself worry is a sin. I remind myself to cast all my cares on Him. I'm trying to present my request with thanksgiving and then let it go.
But I still have a knot in my stomach.
How do we really, genuinely, completely lay our anxieties down? I'm sitting here in a rare, quiet moment trying to be the good Christian who trusts her God.
But my head is throbbing.
In my prayers I plead with God to help me trust Him. I know He is good. I know He cares. I know His hands are capable. I know my hands are not.
But when I think about it, my heart races.
And then I read some words that pierced through the dark, anxious cloud hanging around me.
Our lives are full of supposes. Suppose this should happen, or suppose that should happen; what could we do; how could we bear it? But, if we are living in the high tower of the dwelling place of God, all these supposes will drop out of our lives. We shall be quiet from the fear of evil, for no threatenings of evil can penetrate into the high tower of God. Even when walking through the valley of the shadow of death, the psalmist could say, will fear no evil; and, if we are dwelling in God, we can say so too.
~Hannah Whitall Smith
You see, it makes all the difference when I consider my vantage point. I am not lying on the ground being buried under the troubles of this life. I am high above the worried world, safe and secure in the Shelter of the Most High God. What, for crying out loud, am I so very afraid of?
My tummy is still a little fluttery. My head definitely still hurts. I'm very much looking forward to getting some answers and putting this all behind me.
But, under the wings of God is a very good place to be. There is rest here. There is comfort here. There is a nice, gentle breeze up this high. And I'm very willing to scoot over if you want to join me up here.
Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
~Psalm 91:1-2,4
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