Getting Re-Sensitized

We live in a graphic society.  Our movies have become more gory, more horrifying, and more disturbing.  Hollywood doesn’t hold much back.  We are drawn to the detail and the emotion that it evokes.  If a wound would draw blood, we do not want it to be left to the imagination; we want to see it.  Or at least it would appear the general public does.

When I was in 9th grade my older brother went to see Jurassic Park in the theater and he protectively informed me that I may not be able to handle it.  I will admit when I finally saw it on video I spent most of my time leaping off the couch, but I proudly handled the gore which had been unseen in my world thus far.       It was the first of many movies I would subject myself to that continued to push the envelope of graphic images and disturbing material.  I have since learned that it is best for my mental and spiritual well-being to avoid these types of movies or television shows, but there is one graphic movie that I will continue to watch because the imagery actually brings a lot of benefit.

As many did, I went to the theater in 2004 to see The Passion of the Christ and left drained of tears and emotionally raw.  While many shied away from the violence, I appreciated it.  Having grown up in the church, I was accustomed at a very young age to the idea of Jesus dying on the cross.  I suppose it was oversimplified when I was a child in order to protect my sensitivities and then as I grew older my own spiritual lethargy lead me to never contemplate the graphic nature of the event.  And on another hand, in my spiritual immaturity, I had always minimized what took place by considering that dying must be as simple for God as any of His other feats.

It is easy to become desensitized.  In a world where pain and suffering is a common companion to our friends and families in the form of illness, addiction, emotional trauma, tragedy, and the like; we find ourselves drawing the line of how far we can even allow ourselves to care about our neighbor… or that homeless guy in Detroit… or that hungry kid in Africa.  Sometimes it is just too much to even consider our own sorrows to allow sorrow to creep in for mankind.  And maybe that’s why the box office blows up with movies that lead us to become desensitized to some of the pain and suffering that exists in our own small world.

Or maybe, for some of us, it reminds us that we do care, when we have tried so hard to not care just so we can function.

It is why I welcome Good Friday with a somber heart, because it is necessary to cause ourselves to care.  Sometimes we need that reminder.  And especially as a Christian who loves to delight in the gifts of my Savior, I need to remember that it came at great expense.

He suffered.  Contemplate it.  Cry about it.  Experience it.  Remember it.  Because the joy that comes after realizing why He did it, will restore you enough to care about who He did it for…    

 

Stinky Feet

After bearing the weight of seven children, my mother’s legs and feet were laced with purple varicose veins.  I remember as a child admiring my mom’s legs and thinking they were pretty and this was not by recognizing the symbolism in those veins that bore the sacrifice of my life.  They were the legs of my mother and as many young girls do, we look to our mothers to understand beauty, and to me, her legs were beautiful simply because they were mom’s.  I’m not sure when this world’s influence swayed me to the side of admiring smooth and tan legs, despite what I knew in my heart as a little girl.  Sadly it happened.

Like most girls struggling with self-image at the age of 13, I was mortified when one of my best friends exclaimed on a bright and sunny morning that I had ugly feet.  I had never considered that one might have ugly feet.  Feet were feet… until I looked at her small, smooth skinned feet and her darling painted toes next to my wide and veined, un-manicured clods.  Suddenly I became very aware of feet; my own with shame, others with disgust or envy.

Perhaps it was this heightened awareness that led to a general aversion to feet- unless they are the piggies of one of my precious little pumpkins- otherwise, keep your dirty, smelly, scaly, sweaty hooves away from me.

Can you imagine why I get a little squeamish when considering what Jesus did at the Last Supper?  He and the disciples are dining together and Jesus starts washing their feet with a basin of water and a towel tied at his waist.  To put this in perspective, He wasn’t removing a pair of Nikes and cushiony socks before starting in on the job.  He was most likely faced with a layer of grime that would turn your stomach, mingled with blisters and callouses and cracks.  Those feet had done some serious walking.  This is why there was often a servant in the household who would wash the feet of those that entered.  So when Jesus took it on Himself to fill this humble position, Peter was aghast.

Quite frankly, it catches me by surprise every time, too.  I have to resist the urge to exclaim, “Yuck!”  We’re talking about Jesus who touched Lepers, but I’m turned off by a little foot-washing.  And maybe that’s the point.  Because every time I hear the story, I am humbled by my vanity.  (Does that sound like an oxy-moron to anybody else?)

Jesus wasn’t just washing those feet.  He was loving those feet.  They were feet that had been following Him around for three years, and were ripe with the sacrifice of it.  And He knew where those feet would be going when He left this earth.  They would be the feet that would carry the Gospel to many nations.  Those feet had a story.  They belonged to someone.  He humanized those feet and that’s why He could lovingly wash them.  It’s why my mother’s legs were beautiful to me, because my mother was beautiful to me regardless of how the world would define her.

Despite the grime of our life, Jesus loves us.  He looks beyond what disgusts others- the callouses of  greed, hate, envy, pride and anger; the painful blistering of alcoholism, addiction, prostitution, and murder- and sees what He created to be beautiful.  And when He’s done washing away the ugliness, He reveals the new life hiding underneath all of those layers of dead skin.  

Isaiah 52:7 proclaims, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!'”  Those feet that had travelled mountain terrain would be anything but beautiful to the average eye, but to the one who sought the message, one might even kiss those feet.  I suppose it could be said that each of our feet has a story to tell, not so much where we have been, but what message we bring.

I’ve never had a pedicure- as much as I don’t like other people’s feet, I’m certainly not going to subject someone to mine.  But I think it’s time for a weekly, Godly pedicure, because I’m pretty sure there’s some work that needs to be done to these toes.  The message they bring is too often not one that brings a smile to the beholder.  And while I’m at it, I’m going to stop judging a foot by its callouses, and consider instead its Maker.  No panicking if tonight’s Maundy Thursday service requires a little dirty work ;).  

 

            

Gone Fishing

It’s amazing how a story I have read straight from the Bible a good 50 times all of a sudden generates a new perspective.  What other book can do that?!  Though I have this happen frequently, the story of most recent inspiration is from Luke 5:1-11.  I bet as I start sharing the story, many of you will go, “Oh yeah, I know that one.  Fishing all night.  No fish.  Then lots of ’em.  Fishers of men. Yep.  Got it.”  I’m not criticizing, because I have a tendency to do this often when re-reading anything.  It is in part because I have a pesky Know-It-All complex, so I like to convince myself that I have nothing new to learn.  And this conceit is probably why it took me 50 readings to get such a basic and amazing concept from the well-known, yet well-overlooked, story.

The account takes place at the beginning of Jesus’s ministry when He is in the process of gathering disciples.  A crowd had gathered to hear him speak just as some unsuccessful fishermen have come in from a night of fishing.  Jesus steps into a boat belonging to Simon so that He can be visible to the crowd.  After teaching the people, He asks Simon to push out to deep water and let down his nets.  Simon answers, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything.  But because you say so, I will let down the nets.”

Now, I have heard sermons prepared on the miraculous event that takes place- so many fish are caught they need extra boats.  And I have heard sermons on Simon’s response- he falls to his knees, recognizing that this is God who stands before him, and he is “a sinful man.”  I can even remember as early as my first Sunday School class teaching us to be “fisher’s of men,” as Jesus calls those men to be.  What struck me as “new” in the story, was how fishing all night with no results is much like ministry.

Sometimes there are no catches and we have given up hope and pulled our boats ashore.  Sometimes we can lift our spirits by considering tomorrow is a new day and a change is in the winds.  Sometimes we feel so discouraged, we wonder if God has use for us at all.  And it is often on those days that God tells us to get right back in the boat and try again.  We might be tempted to point out to God what He already knows.  We have been trying!  All night, all day, our whole life and nobody (or maybe it’s just that one somebody) is taking the bait.

But because You say so, Lord, I will go.

I have a friend whose father is facing death; a father who in all appearances had strayed from the faith, though he once had served in the church.  On Monday, this friend had shared with me the pain she felt of knowing what her father faced in death and not having the comfort of his salvation.  And just when it might seem time to row the boat ashore and consider it too late to hope that he might make peace with God, she and others continued to share the Gospel message with him.

It is Thursday.  What a difference God can make in three days… or 3 hours… or 3 minutes.  I received an email that this friend’s father has asked for forgiveness and is in the process of finding peace in Christ, even in death.  What an amazing blessing to see this prayer answered!  

Luke 5 is a story of hope- one that says even when it defies the odds and your own sensibilities, God is at work preparing a catch that will make our hearts burst with joy, unable to contain the bounty.  As I read it, it brought to mind many whom I have witnessed to with no result and I rowed away, feeling defeated and leaving them in the seas of doubt.  But God calls us to go back out and let down the net again.

When we are feeling discouraged, especially when the salvation of a loved one is on our mind, we are reminded that sometimes it only requires pushing out to sea one more time.  It might seem tiring, it might seem hopeless, it might even be frightening, but if God has called us to do it, He will be faithful to see us through it.

God and Coffee

I have always left the act of giving up something for Lent to the Catholics.  Originally the thought never crossed my mind because I’m not Catholic.  And then there were a few years where I thought the idea was kind of nice, but we would be halfway through the Lenten season or I just couldn’t think of something that wasn’t self motivated.  For example, if I considered giving up sweets, I would be hoping for the added benefit of losing weight.  It just didn’t seem right to have another motivation.

Yesterday I did not have a paczki and I did not come up with a plan of self-sacrifice for Lent.  My church is promoting 40 days in the Word and I thought that suitable preparation for Easter.  But this morning as I reached for the coffee to make my morning cup, I felt this very clear impression that I was to give it up.  Before I had pulled the coffee grinds entirely from the cupboard, I was putting them back.  The decision was made that fast.

Now I will just preface this post by saying that I am not a caffeine addict.  I don’t have some massive mug that accompanies my day and I don’t feel like I require it in order to function.  But I do really, really, really enjoy my one cup of coffee in the morning.  There is something really peaceful about the warmth of the mug in your hands and the pace at which you have to drink the steaming liquid.  My kids have a clear understanding that coffee is for adults and they do not get to partake which means that coffee is the one thing that I can leisurely enjoy without somebody asking me for a taste, leading to several others clamoring for what’s MINE.

I wanted to share with you some reflections I had while I wrestled with this commitment this morning:

1.  It was a fleeting thought.  Perhaps this was just silly.  What affect can giving up coffee have?
These thoughts took place moments after I walked away from the coffee cupboard.  The decision had been made so quickly with no forethought that my brain attempted to convince me against the commitment I had just made.  As I tried to reason my way out of giving coffee up for Lent, it occurred to me that the fact that thought came from nowhere was evidence that it came from God.  How many times do we have impressions from God that we don’t immediately act upon because we dismiss them as being not well thought out?

2.  It’s not like it’s a big sacrifice- you’re not addicted to the stuff.
I prefaced this blog by mentioning that I am not a caffeine addict, but I discovered this morning that I have a lot more reliance on the stuff than I even realized.  The fact that I tried to convince myself that I could have it because “it wasn’t like I needed it,” is enough said.  How often do we fool ourselves in thinking we depend on God when we allow so many other dependencies in our life and then convince ourselves that they don’t exist?

3.  This is not a good idea.  I’m probably going to get a headache and I won’t be able to write later which is a greater service to God than giving up coffee. 
Well that sounds like a pretty good argument to me!  But then it occurred to me that perhaps I needed to trust that if God was asking me to give up coffee, He would sustain me; headache or not.

4.  “Time to start school, Colette!  Mommy’s just going to grab her… cup… of…coff…..BLAH!”
I can not tell you how many times I almost forgot that I had committed to giving up coffee and kept looking for it.  It is so routine that I fear I will forget tomorrow until after I have completed a cup!  And I wonder how many things are so routine in our life that we form dependencies we don’t even realize we have.

5.  But I’m going to someone’s house and I know they’ll have coffee and I can’t resist the temptation and it will look rude if I decline and why should I give up when everybody is else is having some?
Sacrifice doesn’t come easy and it certainly doesn’t come without temptation.  It’s time we stop fooling ourselves that the Christian life is a paved and easy road to walk.

6.  What if two days from now I give up?  Wouldn’t it be better to not try than to try and fail and let God down?
The devil specializes in convincing us we’re licked before we even get started.  The only winner in that situation is him.  2 Corinthians 12:9 “But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

My final revelation came when I was about to pretend like I never thought that thought because I really just wanted a cup of coffee.  It occurred to me that I should pine after God’s Word like I was pining after that cup of coffee.  What if my source of peace in the morning was God’s Word?  What if that was my source of warmth and comfort?  What if not getting God’s Word affected my daily functioning?  What if I feared the disastrous results if I didn’t take time to connect with Him?  What if spending time in His Word was so routine that I couldn’t break the habit no matter how hard I tried?  What if I accepted the fact that the day is filled with temptations and I am called to a life of sacrifice, not a life of pleasure?  What if I recognized that it is only in my weaknesses that I can actually see the power of God working?

What if giving up coffee was the only way God planned on calling me to these reflections and I missed that opportunity with Him?
Proverbs 16:3 “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.”  Here’s to 40 days without coffee, but a God who will be filling my cup to overflowing!

Cleaning House!

No one probably expected much from Josiah.  His grandfather had lead a great massacre of innocent blood and his father was murdered by his own trusted officials.  At the tender age of eight, when boys in our time are still stumbling in their reading and have not yet conquered long division, Josiah was made king of Judah; a whole nation entrusted to the rule of a boy who was from a line of kings that had long been leading Judah down a path of destruction.  What could we expect from a child, but to follow in the examples laid before him?  How could he know any better?

But somehow he did.  It was said of Josiah in 2 Kings 23:25, “Neither before nor after Josiah was there a king like him who turned to the Lord as he did- with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his strength, in accordance with all the Law of Moses.”  I find it fascinating.  During Colette’s school time this morning, we read the story of Josiah and it lead me on a cross-referencing search for more on this king, but the answers I sought, I did not find.  What caused Josiah to live so differently than those that had come before him?

Here is what we do know.  In the eighteenth year of his reign (so when he was about 26!), Josiah ordered that the Temple of the Lord, which had long been neglected and desecrated by idol worship, be cleaned and repaired.  We do not know what inspired this; whether it was an earnest seeking of God or a shallow desire of aesthetic pleasure.  While cleaning the temple, The Book of Law was found and brought to Josiah.  Apparently, this book had been long-forgotten as a result of a disregard to lead God-pleasing lives.  Upon it being read, Josiah was gripped with emotion because it clearly brought to light God’s justice in dealing with a nation that had long turned from Him.  Josiah rightly feared for his nation because the law clearly warned of what would happen if Israel turned from God and worshipped idols.  Josiah did everything within his power to turn the nation around, and began by renewing his nation’s commitment to God and then he started cleaning house.

There was a lot of work to do.  Within the temple there were idols for the stars, sun, and moon, as well as for the false gods, Baal and Asherah.  In the very Temple of God, male shrine prostitutes were living and women had a station for weaving gifts for Asherah.  Horses and chariots had been dedicated to the worship of the sun.  Israelites sacrificed their own children in fire to Molech!  There were altars throughout the land of Judah to various pagan gods.  There was a booming business for mediums and spiritists.  Idol worship was so commonplace and widely accepted that few places went untouched.  So Josiah went on a destructive, but righteous rampage against the evil that infiltrated his nation.

And it all started with a little housekeeping.

How’s your temple looking?  “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?  You are not your own; you were bought at a price.  Therefore honor God with your body.” 1 Corinthians 6:19-20  What about your “Jerusalem”, the city that is home to the temple?

I would venture to guess we could all do a little housekeeping.  How many of us have lost the Book of the Law?  Collecting dust on a bookshelf somewhere?  Let’s talk about our temples.  Josiah found idol worship right on the doorstep.  How are your doorsteps looking?  What kind of garbage do you let pass through the thresholds of your eyes and ears?  Maybe you need to consider what is coming out of the temple by way of your mouth.  If people were to come to the temple to seek God, is your tongue giving them the wrong direction?  What kind of idols do you find in your appearance?  Do you spend more time showering than you do in prayer?  How about exercise over studying the Bible?  Do your wardrobe needs exceed your charitable expenditures (don’t forget to include all of your body products, hair cuts and makeup in that figure)?

Is your home a place you would expect to find a godly temple?  Is it a place that welcomes prayer, praise and worship?  Is it a refuge to the weary?  A reflection of holy conduct?  Is it a place that can balance mercy with justice?  Does it offer instruction in the ways of righteousness to its citizens?

I wonder what it would look like if we followed Josiah’s example and called a meeting of our household to instruct them in renewing their covenant with God.  What if we went on a symbolic journey of removing the idols that have made their way into our homes?  What if we smashed to bits and burned to ashes those things that have lead us away from worshipping our God?  And what if in the midst we found the ability to love and obey our God with all of our heart, soul, and strength?

 

 

Joseph’s Staff

I caused myself a lot of anxiety this Christmas.  And a large part of that anxiety lead to blog-freeze (a new term I just created to describe my brain’s inability to form a coherent blog entry).  The other responsible party for the blog-freeze would be Julia, the Twenty Minute Napper.

I have always been pretty low-key about Christmas.  I do not get roped into everything having to be just perfect, but I enjoy the pursuit of making it memorable.  I love the decorating and baking and gift-purchasing.  The most enjoyable activities for me is setting out the Nativity scene and attending Christmas Eve service.  Now, as much as any other parent, I do love seeing my children filled with excitement and joy when they open gifts, but this year I began to fear that the focus of Christmas would get shifted to the presents, which is so easy for young and old to do.

Fretting often causes a state of agonizing indecision for me.  I wandered down toy aisles and craft aisles over-analyzing every gift and the spiritual impact it might have on my children.  Meanwhile, the rest of the holiday season continued stress-free.  We participated in church activities and purchased gifts and food for the less fortunate and almost every night enjoyed singing Christmas songs.  We focused our activities on celebrating Christ’s birth, but how to gear the presents in that direction nagged at my heart daily.

I had read on a blog an idea to present gifts that resembled the symbolic gifts that the Magi brought to Jesus.  I loved the idea.  I still love the idea though it sadly became a source of holiday frustration.  I adopted this idea to give the children’s gifts a spiritual focus.  Frankincense was burned in the temple and signified drawing close to God in worship.  Myrrh would be used to prepare a body for burial and an appropriate gift for children would be something hygiene related that teaches us to value our own bodies.  Gold was a gift for the King of Kings and should be replicated by the parents by giving a gift to show the child how much they are valued.  I loved the idea, but I found the gold aspect surprisingly hard to fill.  I adore my children.  My daily life is committed to a sacrificial love for them.  Finding a gift that communicated this became an impossible task when surrounded by a sea of gaudy-colored toys that held the potential of being discarded two days after gifting.

Two days before Christmas with only gifts of Frankincense (a child’s devotional) and Myrrh (toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner), I handed the task over to my husband with no small amount of angst.  He charged through one store and made some very well-recieved purchases.  Though I felt relief, I also felt a strong sense of failing to really expose through the gifts what Christmas really should be centered around.

And it wasn’t until just a few days ago that I ushered those feelings out the door.  I would like to share with you what has been most frequently played with since Christmas.  The item that has been the source of hours of play, as well as several sharing altercations, has been a cardboard tube that once held wrapping paper.  Everyday since Christmas, Colette dons a blue blanket affixed to her head by a headband, wraps a baby doll in a blanket, and hops aboard a hobby horse which is lead by Mary wielding the cardboard tube.  If you haven’t guessed, they are Mary and Joseph reenacting the Christmas story and the tube is Joseph’s staff.  The fights take place when “Mary” decides that she needs a staff too because she’s pregnant afterall, and can’t be expected to ride on the donkey the whole time!

I can not tell you how many times this sweet display of their knowledge of the true meaning of Christmas has brought tears to my eyes.  And they have made me giggle too when Jon was playing the role of one of the Wise Men and was reprimanded for coming in too loudly and waking the baby up or when Colette (Mary) told Mary (Joseph) that the baby was about to be born and he needed to go to the store quickly to buy some hay for the manger.

The lesson in all of this?  Sometimes I think we tend to get fancy with the simple act of speaking God’s Word.  Sometimes we get so fancy that we forget that the power is in hearing God’s Word, not in our fancy presentation.  I am going to trust that as I continue to share God’s Word with my children it will be His love that points them in the right direction, not my creativity or intellectual reasoning or my persistence.  Romans 10:17 “Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the Word of Christ.”

I am not at all implying that God does not use us in creative and exciting ways to bring His message to the lost.  I strongly believe that we are each gifted in a manner that God uses for specific purposes in ministering to the hearts of the unsaved.  What I am implying, is that we can become easily distracted from the power of the simplicity of hearing God’s Word.  In all that we do, we should make sure that the message of Christ is coming through loud and clear.  I trust that Colette, Mary and Julia are getting the message because God’s Word promises it.  Isaiah 55:10-11 “As the rain and the snow come down from Heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

The “staff” is becoming slightly mangled from the daily journeys to “Bethlehem,” but I am keeping what others would discard because it is valuable in the eyes of my children.  What was on its way out to the trash, became the most valued “toy” in our household.  In the eyes of the world, we may seem to be discardable with no potential worth keeping, but God sees not just the salvageable, but his most valuable possession.  Just when we think we are heading out to the trash, we can become the staff that leads the way to Bethlehem.

Today is a Great Day!

Today has been a great day!  And it may seem hasty on my part to deem today a great day when it is only 1 o’clock in the afternoon and there are still a host of events that could take place that could turn it sour, but I am telling you it is a great day.  Let me tell you what happened today…

The day started out normal enough.  Julia was up several times last night as she is battling a cold.  My throat was sore and I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes when I faced with the first discipline issue of the day.  I instructed Colette that she would be serving a time-out for her infraction and lead her to the wall, reminding her that the timer would only begin once she was quiet and in the proper time-out stance of facing the wall with her hands at her side.  I have to be very strict about composure because if I leave it up to a simple instruction of staring at the wall, suddenly I have children: licking the wall, pushing the wall in an effort to actually knock it down, scratching the wall, wiping their nose on the wall, climbing the wall, laying down and staring at the wall, etc., etc., etc… My children beg for very clear boundary lines.  I don’t know where they get it from…*ahem*

Colette faced outward.  Defiantly.  She was very calm and collected.  The look of determination on her face was very clear.  She was going to attempt to win me over with partial obedience and I must tell you, it was very tempting.  She was not loudly protesting her time-out.  She was standing quietly, but she was not facing the wall.  And maybe some of you will groan, but the rule is that you must face the wall.  Part of the intent of the time-out is for reflection on one’s actions caused by the inability to be entertained by anything else but a blank wall.  I informed her that she would have to complete time-out facing the wall and as soon as she was ready, I would start the timer.  She didn’t say a word.  She set her jaw and crossed her arms in quiet protest.  So I cheerily turned away and began serving breakfast to the other children.

Twenty minutes passed and she didn’t budge or make a peep.  She’s not even five yet!  At this point I informed her that the kitchen would be closed in 20 minutes and if she had not served her time-out by then, she would not be getting breakfast.  I reminded her that all she need do was face the wall.  She said in a very steady tone, “If you make me face the wall, I will have to cry.”  I informed her that proper time-out procedure requires all elements to be fulfilled: wall-facing, hands at sides, no body parts touching the wall, quiet.  The stand-off continued.

I started dreading the imminent threat of continuing the time-out boycott long after breakfast dishes were cleared and her little tummy was rumbling.  It pains me to watch my children make such silly decisions.  Pains me to the usual point of anger, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

Suddenly, a little whimper escaped.  Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she angled her body toward the wall.  Don’t cheer yet.  She was only half-facing.  Sigh.  I told her that once she was fully facing, I would start the timer.  She successfully completed her sentence, we had a pleasant discussion about her choices, and all in time for her to eat breakfast.

I resisted the urge to dance and shout in victory.  Which was good, because Mary pushed Julia just as I was considering it.  Sigh.  Off to the wall.  Mary wailed.  Mary sat.  Mary wiped her nose on the wall.  Mary ran away.  Mary wailed.  Mary rolled on the floor, kicking and screaming.  Mary continued for twenty whole minutes, while I gave her gentle reminders of what I expected her to do.  Then Mary took her pants off and stood in her underwear and cried and screamed some more as she informed me in a threatening tone, “I TOOK MY PANTS OFF, MOMMY!”  Take that, Mommy!  But I held out and pretended to ignore Mary’s ridiculous antics when all along I was really just hiding the giggles.

And then, after twenty minutes of standing in the same spot crying with her pants off, Mary put her pants back on and said very softly, “I am ready for you to start the timer, Mommy.”  And I did.

Now, here is the reason why this is a great day-  I didn’t get angry!!  Not once.  This is the kind of behavior that baffles me to the point of yelling, “For crying out loud, just face the wall!  This is ridiculous!”

But the Lord has been dealing with me about my anger.  I have stumbled upon articles and books and Bible verses so consistently dealing with this topic, that I am well aware God is bringing about a great work in me regarding my anger.  So on Sunday when Pastor John gave a message about peace and shared Ephesians 4:26, my heart opened like a vessel just waiting to be filled with God’s message to me. “Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.”  Initially I thought this was such an odd way to phrase this.  By beginning the sentence with the focus on the sun, it would appear that our instruction is to exert some form of control over the sun.  Of course, we know all efforts directed in this way would be fruitless, so our focus shifts to the second subject, “while you are still angry.”  Suddenly, I was very aware of what God was saying.  We do not have control over the sun, but we have control over our anger (or any of our emotions for that matter).

Now, I will be the first to tell you that I actually contemplated if in fact it might be easier to gain control over the sun rather than even consider managing my temper.  I have red hair, okay?  Yet, all joking aside, I realized that God was telling me that this is the one thing I have control over.  I cannot even control my own children’s actions.  I would love to make my children stand in a time-out quiet and composed, but they are far more likely to put up a big fuss and roll around on the floor.  And at the same time that I stood baffled by their inability to pull it together and do what was being asked of them, I would have told you that I could not help but be angered by their actions.

Part of my problem with anger is that I have a sense of entitlement to it.  You hurt my feelings?  You didn’t listen?  You disobeyed?  You betrayed?  Well then, you better believe I’m gonna be angry!  I have a right to it!

I have come to discover that anger is a perpetual motion that becomes a massive snowball of angry and unfortunate events.  And I’m over it.  I don’t want to justify my actions anymore because YOU made me angry.  I can’t control what anyone else does, but I can control my decisions to model peace, patience, and love.  I am done with allowing anger to appear like some evil force that takes ahold of my body and causes me to do things that leave me with remorse.  I made a decision last night that I was not going to allow anger to be a part of my day and I wrote the following prayer to guide me each morning in welcoming a new spirit to rule my household.  Gone is the spirit of anger.  Welcome the spirit of love!

This is my answered prayer.  This is why today is and will continue to be a great day!

Dear God,
You know the desires of my heart to raise children up in obedience and love, and most importantly with a heart for You.  Yet, I fail consistently in acting upon these desires and instead let anger, guilt, and my own selfish desires play out in my children’s lives.  I commit myself to you, God, and ask that you would mold me as your child with your characteristics.  I pray that you would fill as a vessel in thirsty desperation for patience, kindness, gentleness, and meekness.  You alone can provide me with what I need and how I might achieve all that you have called me to do.
Lord, give me a dedicated heart.  Lord, remove that spirit of anger that creeps up on me so regularly and replace it with eyes to see my children as you see me- a child of God who is at the beginning of learning to obey Your Will.  I ask that you would call to mind for me a special scripture that will serve as daily encouragement and that it would come boldly to mind in the face of temptation, so that I will remember the spirit you desire me to have- not one of anger.
Lord, I also pray that you would help me to serve my children and husband with a joyful heart.  Remove from me the desire to grumble about the interruptions of life as I would have it be, and instead, welcome them as opportunity to learn from You your gifts of patience, kindness, and long-suffering.
Giver of all that is good, I ask only to please You in requesting that you would bring order to my life, for you are not the God of chaos, but of peace.  Help me to overcome my sinful inclination for laziness and replace it with an ever increasing desire to serve you with the work you put before me.
Gracious God, I thank you for the peace that comes in knowing that all I have asked for, I will receive in the name of your Son, Jesus.  Amen!

God’s Go-to Girl

It’s 8:30am and the only sound in the house is the clickety-clack of the keyboard and the hum of the dishwasher.  Normally my home does not achieve this level of quiet between the hours of 6:30 am to 8:30pm and even then there is an uncertainty in the air that communicates at any point some child could come rumbling from their beds with protests and complaints.  But today my house is quiet as a result of my wonderful husband taking all three of the girls out and about so I can write.  Specifically, so I could work on my book.  But instead I am here at my blog because I don’t feel I can focus on my book until I spit this out…


I have been reading this book, The 10 Second Rule by Clare De Graaf, which I received as a surprise gift in the mail from the homeschool curriculum company that we use, Sonlight.  I am so excited to recommend this book to you that I am not even going to wait until I finish it to do so.  The concept of the book is to “just do the next thing you’re reasonably certain Jesus wants you to do.”  Essentially it is encouraging an awareness on your part of what God would have you do each moment of the day so that you are ready for the opportunities that He calls us to serve in love.  Just like what I blogged about in my last post- the nagging feeling to offer the marketer in my sub some coffee!


The book triggered a thought for me last night.  I pray regularly that God would put people in my life that I can minister to and be a beacon of light and love to.  I’m pretty sure God has done his part.  I have confessed many times on this blog, my failings in doing my part.  And this is what occurred to me last night- with me being flimsy in my service to God, how can He place in front of me important needs when I constantly reject his calling for the smaller things?  This is not to imply that God has no idea what I will do when He places a task before me (for He knows with certainty my actions before I have even laid them out), but why would God place the hearts of the spiritually dying in my hands when I have regularly turned away even in the case of my own friends in need?!  It became apparent to me that God has a list of “go-to” people when He wants a job done.  They are the people He knows are consistent in their service and are actually waiting for their assignment.


I want on that list.  I want to be God’s Go-to Girl!  I want Him to say, “Today I have a widow in need of companionship and Katie will not let me down.”  I want Him to say, “The seed has been planted in the heart of a struggling man and Katie will water it until it blooms.”  I want Him to say, “Well done good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.  Come and share your master’s happiness!”  Matthew 25:21


Right now God is saying that the job is all mine but I have to prove I am ready for it.  I have to prepare myself by becoming more faithful in the little things; by not denying those naggings at my heart but responding to them immediately; and by standing before Him each day when I awake and asking how He would have me conduct my day, not calling Him in as a back up plan when mine fails.
I feel like I just got the call that I have been accepted for an entry level position at a dream job.  I have to prove myself here as a consistent and dedicated employee before I get the opportunity for promotion.  But when that promotion rolls around, I want to be the first name that pops into my Boss’s mind.


  

Abort Mission!

Yesterday I posted a blog about committing to the act of love even when we don’t feel like loving someone.  Today I thought I would share with you my first attempt to do that.

As a stay-at-home mother, I often do a lot of staying at home, which tends to limit my contact to the general public.  I initially had no plan to go out this morning, but as the day progressed smoothly and all morning responsibilities were completed, I thought we would venture out to get Colette a pair of snow boots.  Everyone was chipper and cooperative as I loaded them into the vehicle.  As we were exiting our subdivision, I noticed a man entering the sub on foot struggling to keep on a plastic poncho that was blowing in the blustery wind.  The poncho had pockets with bundles of paper in each and from the ones that were escaping, I could see that he would be hanging advertisements on our doorknobs.

As we continued on our way I thought about what an unfortunate job this man had on such a day as this.  There would be no respite from the cold and the wind would be fighting his every effort.  I felt a tug to turn the car around and wait for him to make his way back to our street so I could offer him a cup of coffee.  I ignored it.  I had promised Colette we would get her boots today.

We continued on our way through downtown Howell and we noticed a crowd of people gathered around a monument at City Hall.  It was 11:10 am.  I realized the crowd was gathered in honor of Veteran’s Day.  I had spent time that morning discussing with Colette how we live in a free country as a result of those that served, but I didn’t know about the event taking place.  I thought to myself how it would have been nice to have gone in support, but finding a parking spot and facing the wind and cold with three small children seemed too challenging a task.  And we were on a mission to get boots.

 We arrived at Kohl’s and all children were happy and accounted for as we entered the door.  I sat Julia in one of the shopping carts and as I was strapping her in, Mary selected another cart.  “I push this, Mom?” she asked.

“No, Honey.  We have a cart,” I say, unsuspecting of the trauma this would cause.  A store employee had innocently ventured over to admire Julia’s cuteness just as Mary fell to the floor.  She started wailing.    I attempted to scoop her up and explain calmly my reasoning.  It was the only other cart.  Other people would need it.  The wailing got louder and suddenly she was flailing her arms and legs.  Oh my.  It was clear from the amount of staring by patrons, I needed to leave.  I picked up Julia, informed Colette apologetically of my intent to leave, and turned to find Mary fleeing from me as fast as she had ever run in her whole life.  I followed, all the while trying to maintain my cool and a respectable level to my voice as I beckoned her to come back.  I am not sure how I must have appeared to the amount of onlookers as I snagged one of Mary’s arms, causing her to yo-yo back in to me.  I scooped her up in a football hold, as I was balancing Julia on my other hip, and bolted for the door that seemed miles away now.  The wailing and flailing continued.  Colette and Julia must have looked like angels and drawn the sympathies of everyone present.

Everyone made it safely back to the car, but I was humiliated.  Suddenly, any confidence that I had in my parenting abilities were left at the front entrance of Kohl’s.  The child, now restrained by the straps of her car seat, seemed unconquerable.  “It’s okay, Mommy.  I don’t need boots today,” Colette said, as the tears started falling down my cheeks.

I informed Mary of her consequences as we drove home.  She cried and promised she would be good now and begged for me to let her go to the movie night at church.  As we pulled into the sub, there he was- the man with the blowing poncho- making his way toward our street.  The tug to offer some form of kindness was present again.  I considered all of the excuses I had to just ignore him- Mary was still crying and needed consoling and discussion of her actions, Julia somehow was sleeping in the midst of chaos and would need to be carried to her room, I had no coffee brewing, lunch needed to be made, and really, I just felt like I needed somebody to hug me and tell me I’m loved, because those looks from the people in Kohl’s communicated quite the opposite.  I did not feel like showing someone else kindness!

And that is exactly what made it the right opportunity.  I unloaded the children, got them settled, and watched as he made his way to my house.  I went down the drive to meet him and greeted him with a smile, “How are you?”  He looked at me cautiously.  I suspect he was waiting for me to tell him our sub didn’t welcome his marketing.  “It’s a cold day for a job like that!” I said, “Could I get you a cup of coffee, maybe a hot chocolate?”  His old and weathered face broke into a bright smile, “Oh no, ma’am.  I just ate, but thank you!”  He wished me well and went on his way.

I went in the house, wondering what the point was of all this morning’s events.  I feel pretty certain that I was wailing and flailing in front of my God when asked to do a simple task.  I will not at all imply that He had a hand in Mary’s temper tantrum, but I will say He used it to make sure I understood what my real mission should have been this morning- love, not boots.  And much like it is with our children, when I finally got around to obeying, I was ashamed with how simple it was to carry out the task.  I think we often resist God’s call to love, refuting it as too difficult a request.  But the reality is, the request itself is not difficult, the denying of self that it requires is what poses the challenge.

I do not know, and will not ever know, if I made a difference in that man’s day.  I am holding on to the mental image of that smile as a small consolation prize.  I believe that as I follow in obedience with a more joyful heart, my reward will be witnessing hearts and lives changed by the love of Christ.  Today, the call to obey was not about what I could do for this man, but what I need to do for myself in understanding my life of service to my gracious and forgiving Father.

Fighting Nature

I have several drawers, cupboards, closets, and possibly a room or two, that pose a reasonable threat to anyone that dares venture into them without being acquainted with the proper procedure of opening doors that have been used to actually restrain contents.  Let me give you a visual.  I have a broom handle that frequently comes flopping out at dangerous speeds each time I open the pantry closet.  My tupperware cupboard rains plastic debris upon the simple task of searching for a container for leftovers.  It is our practice to open these doors by turning ones face and all major organs away from the onslaught.

Have I ever mentioned I am not an organized person?  I have two sisters that are Danny Tanner by nature (is it okay to use Full House references when talking to the mainstream public or just with my family?).  My oldest sibling and youngest sibling are the neat little sandwich ends that hold in the rest of the sloppier makings of their five other siblings.  I’m not sure how this happened, but I am pretty sure it has to do with survival and birth order.  Missy and Melonie cannot function without organization.  While I admit that I would function much better in the midst of organization, I often feel overwhelmed by the many options that come with order- alphabetical, size, color, favorite to least favorite, etc.

For years I have excused my disorder on the basis that I was not gifted with the same nature as my sisters.  This actually encouraged me to embrace some very sloppy habits and accept that this was the lifestyle I was destined for.  It didn’t come easily for me, therefore I determined I must not be meant to do it.  This allowed me to accept myself and not repetitively measure myself up against the abilities of my sisters and feel like I was failing in some way.

My first attempt at welcoming some organization into my life was in the area of couponing.  I realized that the more organized I was before hitting the store, the more money I could save.  It was easy for me to commit to setting aside every Sunday to clip and organize coupons and plan grocery lists because I would see immediate benefits on the grocery bill.  It floored me when people would see my coupon binder and exclaim, “You are so organized!”  Because I have had success in this area, organization has spilled over to other areas of my life.  It does not come natural.  It begins with a committed effort, continues with a lot of failure and fine-tuning, and settles in as a habit that has to be maintained with conscious effort.

So where am I going with all of this?  I do not at all intend this to be a “cleanliness is next to godliness” blog entry.  My point is that good traits do not always come naturally.  In fact, it is quite the contrary, but our nature is not an excuse to embrace poor or lazy habits.  This past weekend I had the pleasure of participating in my best friend’s wedding.  The priest gave an awesome sermon on love (did you expect some other topic?).  One statement that struck me was that we are commanded to love.  I think some of us are more gifted in the areas of being compassionate and loving just by their design or experience, but the word “command” means we must do it in obedience, whether we feel naturally inclined to or not.  We so often allow love to be optional based on how we feel.

How do we conjure love?  We live in a world that convinces us that falling out of love with someone we committed our life to, happens more often than not, and that it is understandable and expected.  We live in a world that teaches us that the way we feel is paramount to another individual; we desert commitments, spouses, and families in search of our happiness.  We live in a world that accepts sinful nature as God’s design.  We have adhered to the philosophy that if we feel a certain way about a person, it is okay to act on those feelings; whether it be love, lust, hate or indifference.

But if God has commanded us to love, He has removed feeling from the definition because, knowing our sinful nature, He knows that we do not always feel like loving each other.  So He is calling us to something greater than our own definition.  If you have ever had children, you soon discover in toddlerhood that they do not always resort to loving responses.  I find myself frequently teaching Colette and Mary compassionate responses to situations.  When one accidentally injures the other, I have to urge a concern on the part of the injurer.  I model an example of how they should ask the injured if they are okay and offer aid.  It is often obvious that the child really does not care in that moment, but I am creating a habit that will hopefully become adopted and the emotion will follow.

In the same way, we are being commanded to act in love where we may otherwise be void of feeling.  We are not allowed to use the excuse that we don’t feel like it.  Truth be told, I think a lot of us would struggle to find loving feelings naturally aroused by an old drunken bum on the street, or an imprisoned felon, or someone that has betrayed us.  Love, as Christ commands it, is a commitment to an act, not a feeling.

I have come across a number of people in my life who have been challenging to love.  I can recall several times where my inclination told me to run in the opposite direction.  There was a particular individual who posed a health risk to me just by being in the same room because my blood pressure seemed to elevate in their presence.  Were I to share some of the details of past interactions with this person, many would tell me I was entitled to my contempt.  However, just by maintaining my composure and forcing myself into polite conversation, God exposed to me a very sad individual in search of Him.  And suddenly, there it was… love and compassion bubbling up in my heart for a person I didn’t think was worthy of it.  I was only nice out of consideration for the other parties involved.  I wish I could tell you that it was out of obedience to God.  Still, God revealed to me how if we act in love even when we do not feel it, we expose ourselves to the opportunity to love as God loves.

Just as organization does not come easily to me, but requires a constant, committed effort on my part, so too must I commit to the act of love.  It is a conscious effort.  It does not always come naturally.  By nature I feel inclined to love those who stir up an emotion in my heart.  This leaves out a large majority of people with whom I come into contact.  By God I have been commanded to love everyone.  I will often be fighting against my very nature, but I will be doing it by the power of God.