Tag Archives: Christian life

On Being “At Home”

02 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by in Home and Family

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Some days the house just gets to me. Too many unfinished projects, too much clutter, too much to clean.

Life gets to me. When will I ever find the time or the willpower to drop those 20 pounds and feel strong again?

The temptation to despair of life in this body, in this house, arises from thoughts like these. And that’s ok, right? Because I’m supposed to be looking forward to my eternal home. So this hum-glum existence until then is just par for the course. A right of passage, you might say.

Or is it?

After recently wrestling through such thoughts, I’ve come to see that in order to be actually looking forward to our eternal home, we need to learn to be grateful for the home we’re in now. Let me back up a couple weeks to explain…

learning to be at home warm content

I stand at the window on a crisp, February morning, staring out through two panes of glass into 30-degree weather.

And I am warm.

This is a good house.

It’s a timely reminder that halts the grumbly thoughts in my head, and I take a deep breath. The knots on my forehead begin to unravel.

As I consider the cold that I am not feeling, I begin to notice how my hands are resting firmly–one on the window sill and the other against the corner of the wall, framing the window. I take a moment to really feel that wall.

It’s sturdy. It’s withstood 70-mile-per-hour winds and little boys ramming into it.

This is a good house.

In the midst of the mess and hustle and bustle of a family that lives, learns, and works at home, and especially ten months into a “five-week” exterior remodeling project, it can be hard to enjoy just being at home.

It can be hard to see the beauty in the home that I’m making when unfinished projects crowd my view. But if I take a moment to sit and observe–not with a critical eye and a running to-do list but rather with eyes enlightened by grace–I begin to see not my work nor my lack of work but gifts of God.

I can wonder at how well we are provided for. Not only by my husband but by the mind-blowing development of things like running water, central heating, and washing machines. And the incredible blessing of dirty little hands, red cheeks and noses, and piles of clothes that signify the beautifully rambunctious lives that fill this place.

There’s another temporary house I’ve been given, and sometimes (many times?) I look at it with the same kind of scrutinizing fix-it-up mentality that I use to greet my dirty linoleum-tile kitchen floor.

My body isn’t as young or strong or capable as it once was. My knees give me trouble, and I’m currently four weeks into a bout with some combination of cold, allergies, bronchitis, and asthma. I’m well enough to function, but I’m not functioning well.

While there’s work to be done for my health and strength (and time required for recovery), I’m finding that there’s also a desperate need to learn to rest–not just physically, but to simply be in this body, just as I have to learn to be in my home, dilapidated as each may seem.

Whatever degradation may come, this body has run races and climbed mountains.

This body has carried, birthed, and nursed two sons–not without complications, but still, it has.

This body has given hugs and held hands.

And it still seems to get me from point A to point B pretty effectively.

It can still kneel prayer, sing in worship, and offer hands to serve.

It’s a good body.

It’s a good gift.

If we are to serve the Lord with gladness there is a real sense in which we need to learn to be at home in our houses and in our bodies. Not in some self-exalting or self-excusing way, but in a very real and contented and Christian way. We need to learn to be at home in our houses and bodies because they are the primary places and primary tools we have for worship and service. And they are gifts that the Lord not only gives but also fills.

He’s not afraid of nor ashamed of broken vessels. In fact, He delights to redeem them.

My house, my body–these are places to be filled with the grace and love and Spirit of Christ. They are not forever, of course. They are a mere shadow of things to come. But as we embrace the “homes” that our Father has graciously given now and by faith see how He transforms and fills them, we are in a better position to truly appreciate and anticipate the Kingdom Home He is preparing for us–a new creation and a resurrected body that are both whole and wholly filled with His presence.

Too often we look with discontentment at our earthly state and say with a grumble, “Well, I’m glad I’ll get a new body and a new home someday.”

But the eyes of faith see the good in God’s gifts both now and in eternity–because the eyes of faith focus more on the goodness of God Himself than on the frailty of our here-and-now. We need not spurn His hand in this life in order to treasure it in the next.

May we have such eyes to see and receive God’s gracious provision–to be at home where He has us now, gladly doing His will until He calls us to that better Home in glory.

on being at home christian mom body image homemaking

Goodbye, Grinch Mama

13 Thursday Dec 2018

Posted by in Home and Family

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There’s this thing that happens when you read a story out loud to your kids. It hits you in a different way than it ever would had you been reading quietly to yourself.

Sometimes the blow is a rush of emotions that makes you tear-up against your wishes. And sometimes the blow comes with the stinging pain of conviction.

Take, for example, a recent Christmas read-aloud.

Grinch book dr. seuss christmas

Staring down from his cave with a sour, Grinchy frown,
At the warm lighted windows below in their town.

…he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming,
“I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!”
For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Who girls and boys,
Would wake bright and early. They’d rush for their toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!
Noise! Noise! Noise!
That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE!
NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

I have to admit, I can relate.

There’s something about December that seems to stir my children up to a level of hyper-activity unknown the rest of the year. Maybe it’s the sugar. Maybe it’s the seasonal excitement. Maybe it’s the lack of sunshine … or a lack of training.

Whatever the cause, I recently found myself growling and nervously drumming, eager to squash the noise, noise, noise from my boys, boys, boys at our homeschool group’s recent visit to the local nursing home.

We come to play instruments, we come to spread cheer,
We come to sing hymns to the folks gathered here. 

Like the Whos down in Whoville, we’re a jovial lot,
But the Grinch Mama among us most certainly is not. 

Her children are happy but she can’t rejoice
Because of their bouncing, their climbing, their noise.

goodbye grinch mama christmas

It’s easy to characterize my children’s behavior as “horrible” when they have been nothing but jovial, albeit a bit careless and wild. It’s the careless and wild part that I know needs wise attention and careful training in the long run, but in the moment it gets my evil eye and sharp repremand, throwing gentleness and patience to the wind.

All I lack is green fur to adorn my furrowed brow.

I’m not against correcting children in public, mind you, but what really needed correcting in this case was my attitude.

Maybe I should just go get the T-shirt, because that is apparently a thing.

Let’s hold that thought.

While it may be hip and humorous right now to wear our worst attitudes on our sleeves, or even boldly screenprinted on the front of our shirts, these tendencies we (cough, cough, I) have toward grumpiness, selfishness, and stinginess are not acceptable. Let’s call it like it is: sin. That may sound harsh, but it’s actually quite hopeful.

But before we get there we have to recognize that mere authenticity isn’t a virtue. We have to bring Truth to bear on the mess in which we find ourselves. This is why the Scriptures are compared to a mirror–God’s Truth shows us what’s in our hearts (and more imporantly, what’s in His) so that we can, by His grace and in the power of His Spirit, deal with it.

No Mama I’ve ever met finds a rat in her kitchen and decides to make a comfortable bed for it on the counter. Eeew.

If we pursue authenticity as a “righteous” end in itself we risk becoming people who glory in our shame on principle–as though the right response to a bad attitude is to give it a pat on the back. Instead we must recognize that being honest with ourselves is just an initial step toward repentance and growth in Christ.

Acknowledging there’s a rat in the kitchen is just an initial step to removing it and disinfecting.

If we are honest about who we are, Grinch and all, and meet that honesty with the Truth, then we can have hope of both forgiveness for sin and strength for the fight. Then we can know not just ourselves in our futility and weakness, but God in His sovereignty and strength.

This is why I’m saying, “Goodbye, Grinch Mama,” even if I have to say it daily (or perhaps on the hour). She may be at times an accurate depiction of my selfish heart, but she isn’t welcome to stick around. By the grace of God, she’s shown the door as I seek the Lord to produce the fruit of His Spirit in her place.

It’s time to put off the Grumpy T-shirts and put on the Lord Jesus Christ.

 

The Grinch in our picture book comes to see that Christmas isn’t about all the materialistic things he had taken away from the Whos. The joy and celebration still comes despite his efforts to the contrary.

“Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

His small heart grows three times bigger as a result, and yet, somehow I don’t think it works quite that way for me. My problem isn’t the size of my heart, it’s the content and focus.

Dr. Seuss was on to something, but heart change, perhaps, means a little bit more.

I’d like to say goodbye to her once and for all, that Grinch, but I know it’s a day-by-day, moment-by-noisy-moment repentance and God-oriented faithfulness I need.

The children kept bouncing, and scolding she gave them
‘Til she saw that her anger indeed woud not save them

‘Twas grace that enveloped her more than the sound
Of jubilant voices and greetings all ’round

Grace that proved greater than sin or her goal
Of well-behaved children and a sense of control

She yet could not muster a match for their glee
But a heart now contrite was a sight for to see

“Merry Christmas,” she offered, remembering the One
Who loved a Grinch Mama by sending God’s Son.

 

These boys… So much joy, so much hustle and bustle, so much noise. It’s the way of children.

This time of year… So much joy, so much hustle and bustle, so much noise. It’s the way of celebration.

Do I make room for such as these? As we welcome the Lord Jesus as a child, am I welcoming my children in His name? Do I make room for the celebration of the Lord, be it a bit more rowdy at times than solemn?

I can’t hold on to my Grinch Mama and answer positively. She’s got to go.

Alone? Unseen? You’re in Good Company.

30 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by in Home and Family, Living Faith

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It was one of those less-than-ideal Sunday mornings.

The church meeting was to be at our house this week, but we had been busy and the weekly housecleaning hadn’t exactly happened when it was supposed to.

So, as has been the case more times than I care to admit, quite a bit of tidying was left to be done on Sunday. You know, the day of restful, refreshing time with the Lord and His people.

Yeah, Sunday.

Usually my sweet husband takes care of breakfast for our family on Sunday mornings and even helps straighten up when we’re hosting, but this particular Lord’s day, breakfast was all he had time to contribute. I found myself not-exactly-joyfully decluttering the living room, coaching the kids on sweeping the floors, and cleaning up the breakfast mess in the kitchen. Not to mention preparing the elements for communion and doing something (anything!) to make myself look presentable.

My personal quiet time with the Lord didn’t happen that morning, either. Instead of recognizing Jesus was with me anyway, I pouted. Instead of serving the saints with joy, resentment began to build.

There were probably several things building up to this point, but I can’t remember all the details. I just know I felt very alone in my work. Ragged, unnoticed, uncared for, and alone.

I’m pretty sure the resentment didn’t die down in time to greet people warmly as they arrived. In fact, I remember finally coming downstairs after changing into sensible clothes and doing something with my hair and makeup to find that everyone was seated in the living room.

It was hard to sing joyfully.

But then came time for communion.

It’s difficult to hold on to your resentment when the bread and wine silently tell of the One who died for it. 

My thoughts began to spin. I felt alone. He bore my sin alone. I can’t remember, but I think one of the men mentioned something to that effect as they served the Lord’s supper.

Wherever they came from, the meditations on communion spoke to my heart. I’d had a lot of resentment–not just this particular morning, but as a pattern recently. For times when I felt forgotten, alone, neglected, and unhelped in my work–in the cleaning and regular upkeep of life, and most freshly in getting the house ready for church.

Well, I considered, Jesus was betrayed by Judas and abandoned by His followers and friends when He faced His greatest trial, His most weighty work. Jesus bore the wrath of God against sin utterly alone. It wasn’t right. And yet He submitted Himself to it without grumbling, but as the will of God.

He laid down His rights.

There was no defending my resentment at this point. There was only room for repentance.

And comfort.

After all, Jesus, my High Priest, could identify with everything I was feeling. And in all the places where sin merged with those feelings, He had made provision for that, too.

Isn’t the Lord’s table such a precious gift to the body of Christ?!?

alone unseen company

After communion, my thoughts turned to the hidden care of God. When my service and work is overlooked, or taken for granted, or underestimated, I can remember that God is all the time doing good to people who do not see it or appreciate it.

When God says to “do in secret” and that He rewards what is “done in secret”, I don’t think it is only a test of our awareness of God and our desire to please Him. It certainly is this, but I see something more. I think the command must also procede from the character of God–that He Himself delights to “do in secret” and that we should be like Him.

The flowers of the field, we are reminded in the same passage, are beautifully arrayed. The lesson of God’s greater care for His people is clearly connected to our observation of the flowers we can see, but have you ever thought of the fact that God makes beautiful flowers that no human eye sees before they whither and die?

If we aren’t there to behold it, does it mean that the beauty and glory of God isn’t there? No.

He creates beauty and shines light in places where we have yet to venture. So much of His handiwork is unseen to us. I can’t help but think He must take some pleasure in His own work regardless of man’s interaction with or appreciation of it. 

The implications of this on homemaking are numerous, though I won’t slog through the details here. Suffice it to say, these thoughts exposed yet again how far my self-focused and praise-hungry heart is from the heart of a God who lays down His life for His enemies and who lavishes the earth with unseen and unsung goodness.

Is it too much that I’m called to find joy in serving others? Too much that I have a home to care for and that most of that work falls to me? Too much to trust and persevere even when I feel alone and unnoticed? Even when I am alone and unnoticed?

No. I’m not really alone in any of it. There’s one who sees and cares when it seems no one else does.

My great God and Savior has been there. He knows what it is to be alone. He knows what it is to be unappreciated, and on a scale far greater I can imagine.

Yes, I’m in good company.

We, dear sisters, are in good company.

 

Self-Doubt, God-Doubt

15 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Living Faith

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We humans are funny creatures, we can look at our own performance and find it wanting and then look up to the heavens and ask, “God, are you even there?”

self doubt god doubt woman sad

I originally wanted to wax eloquent on this topic, but I’ve recently found myself smack in the middle of it.

Life has been a bit heavy lately.  February brought with it several weeks with a house guest, an impending but yet-unsettled job change, my grandma in the hospital, and a whooping cough scare in our family and close friends.  Just when things seemed to ease up, there’s more emotional heaviness, my husband’s grandma in the hospital, a running injury, a minor car accident, and my house is a wreck as we prepare for my husband to start working from home.

I can count my blessings, to be sure—the Lord has been good to us.  But the past few days as I’ve been trying to keep up with schooling the boys, supporting others, reorganizing all the things, and nursing my physical injuries, I’ve just come up short.

This out-of-control season, with its full load of stress—good and bad—has gotten to me.

I’m not strong enough to bear it.  I’m not together enough to catch up on the cleaning, the cooking, the financial planning, the interrupted school days, you name it.  It seems there are so many plates spinning and people needing and I’m failing them all.

Yesterday I couldn’t really enjoy anything.  I was dull to any feeling but sadness.  Emotionally needy.  Physically hurting.  Spiritually exhausted.

And my pride doesn’t like the feel of it all.

At times like these it’s easy to get discouraged.  My glaring limitations stare me down, and I allow my personal gloominess to cloud my view of the Sovereign God who loves me.

The truth is, I’m finite.  Limited.  Small.  That’s part of what it means to be a creature in contrast to the Creator.  And while it might shock me at times when I’m faced with my limits, God isn’t surprised.  “He is conscious of [my] frame, He is mindful that [I am] but dust.”

But all too often instead of looking up to see the One who is strong for me, I continue to look within and mourn my lack of God-like power over my circumstances.

When my self-confidence wanes, I find my wayward heart can project that same lack of confidence onto the Lord.  Have you ever done the same?

“Things aren’t going my way!  I can’t get control of this!  I can’t seem to get control of myself!  God, are You even there?”

That’s not exactly a rational train of thought, is it?

On our good days we might think of ourselves as “independent”, “self-sufficient”, “got-it-together”, “responsible”, “emotionally stable”, and, let’s be honest, just plain “awesome”.

And then when things fall apart, “I’m failing at everything.” “I’m a burden to others.” “I’m a hot mess.”  “I just can’t even.”

Been there?

Sometimes our confidence fails because it was misplaced to begin with.  Sometimes our faith falters because we took our eyes off the Lord long before things went sour.

I’m not necessarily saying the hard times and our failings are caused by this misplaced confidence (though sometimes that might be the case).  What I’m saying is that when our confidence is shaken, it may be that we’re upset with God not because He has failed us, but because we aren’t as awesome as we thought we were.

When we’re brought to the end of ourselves, the world’s counsel is often to dig deeper within. “Believe in yourself!”  “You’re stronger than you think!”  “You’ve got this!”  And while it’s healthy to silence the voices that accuse and condemn with the promises of forgiveness and life in Christ (see Romans 8!), we can’t ultimately combat our short-comings by looking within.  God doesn’t intend for our struggles to lead us to despair of ourselves and then stay there.

Check out the exhortation in Isaiah 40:26-31:

Lift up your eyes on high
And see who has created these stars,
The One who leads forth their host by number,
He calls them all by name;
Because of the greatness of His might and the strength of His power,
Not one of them is missing.

When you feel out of control, don’t project that uncertainty on the Lord by thinking that you’re the only one who can fix your situation.  Look up!  Your God is the sovereign Lord over all the universe!  He made and sustains the stars and He made and sustains you!

Why do you say, O Jacob, and assert, O Israel,
‘My way is hidden from the Lord,
And the justice due me escapes the notice of my God’?
Do you not know? Have you not heard?
The Everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth
Does not become weary or tired.
His understanding is inscrutable.
He gives strength to the weary,
And to him who lacks might He increases power.
Though youths grow weary and tired,
And vigorous young men stumble badly,
Yet those who wait for the Lord
Will gain new strength;
They will mount up with wings like eagles,
They will run and not get tired,
They will walk and not become weary.

When self-doubt strikes, don’t project that doubt onto the Lord by continuing to wallow in your own weaknesses and failures.  Look up!  Your God is strong and gives strength to the weary!

Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.

When you’re afraid and think no one notices, don’t project human ignorance onto the Lord by assuming He’s forgotten you, too.  Look up!  Your God knows the hairs on your head, and He who watches over the sparrows cares even more for you!

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.

When help is hard to come by and your situation and yourself seem helpless, don’t project that hopelessness onto the Lord by forgetting to run to him with your need.  Look up!  Your God is your “refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46)

While this season has been hard and humbling for me, bringing with it more than a fair share of tears, I’m riding the waves more smoothly than I have in the past because these truths have been much more at the ready and I’m quicker now to cast my cares on the Lord.

I’ve heard it said recently, “Trials can make you bitter or better.”  For the Christian, the “better” God intends for us is to be strengthened in our confidence in Him.

Our human resources may fail us, and while it humbles us to realize that we can’t ascribe greatness to ourselves, let’s not forget to ascribe to the Lord the greatness due to His name (see Psalm 29).  We’ll find our confidence will return when it is grounded in the right Person.  And we’ll find the next storm of self-doubt and disappointment, while still painful, will have less impact on our faith when it is firmly rooted in a God who doesn’t disappoint those who hope in Him.

Here’s to growing in grace.

No Story is the Same, No Pain Ever Wasted

08 Friday Dec 2017

Posted by in Guest Posts, Living Faith

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Here’s a guest post from my friend Tabitha Alloway who writes at Pursuing Logos.  Tabitha is a fellow homemaking, homeschooling wife, mother, and electrician–well, we don’t have that LAST part in common!  She’s also a long-time family friend.  Enjoy!

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Have you ever started into a set of books by a particular author and found that before long you could predict the entire plot before you’d even cracked the next book open?

I remember a set like this from my teen years.  I fell in love with the G. A. Henty historical fiction series, and for a while I devoured every book I could get.

But slowly I realized my interest was fading.  Every book seemed to have the same plot; only the names, faces and times changed: Boy goes on adventures.  Boy goes to war.  Boy is captured.  Boy escapes.  Boy becomes hero.  Boy meets girl.  Boy settles down and lives happily ever after.

Sigh.  Very idyllic.

And so predictably formulaic.

Now I’m not knocking the series—I still like the books and I’m looking forward to the day my kids can enjoy them.  But it’s sometimes amusing (or annoying) to see an author embrace a seemingly one-track plot.  A good writer is able to spin each story in such a way that, while it will always reflect their own unique style and voice, the story itself is fresh and new.

I think of God as a Master Writer, scripting the days and circumstances of our lives, inscribing our stories page by page.  He’s the Master Composer, ordering the “rhythm and rhyme” of our lives as an ode of praise.  He is the Potter who shapes our lives for our good and His glory.

While certain themes shine through every story He writes—goodness, mercy, grace, redemption or justice—each one is uniquely different.

Have you ever been tempted to question or wonder what God is doing in your life when you find yourself in difficult circumstances and trying times?  Or even perhaps to envy the way God is working in the lives and circumstances of those around you, rather than humbly accepting what the Potter is doing in and with your life (see Jeremiah 18:1-6)?

I have.  I’ve been tempted many times, when finding myself in less-than-ideal circumstances, to compare my lot with that of others and to envy God’s plan for and ordering of the lives of those around me.

One morning a couple of months back, feeling burdened and discouraged by the weight of recent trials, I poured my heart out to the Lord about it all.  I opened the Word and my attention was drawn to the passages that spoke of giving thanksgiving, honor, worship, and praise to God; of investing our trust in Him because He is good.   Not exactly the typical comforting passages you might expect.  These precious words comforted by lifting my eyes.

I began to think of the stories of the saints of the Bible as well as the experiences of modern-day saints.  No two are exactly the same!  God works in such a wide variety of circumstances and ways to accomplish His will in each of His children’s lives.

Look at Hannah.  She prayed for a child, and God blessed her with one.  Yet many Christian wives through the ages have prayed with the same desperate desire for children and have been told “No.”

Jabez prayed that God would bless him and keep him from harm and pain.  God granted His wish.  Yet Job was permitted to experience unimaginable grief and pain in his lifetime.

Daniel was saved from the lions’ mouths.  But many believers in the early centuries of the church were torn apart and eaten by wild beasts.

Under the reigns of David and Solomon, the saints and prophets rejoiced with gladness and singing.  Under the reigns of Ahab and Manasseh, the saints and prophets suffered, and served their God in hard times and discouraging circumstances.

The apostle John lived a long life in service to Christ while Abel’s life was cut off prematurely.

Paul could have been tempted to envy the many believers around him who experienced miraculous, physical healings, while he himself was given a thorn in the flesh and denied its removal.

So many people.  So many stories.  All of them different.

Had God denied Hannah her wish, or Jabez his, would He still have been good?  Would His people have continued to trust in Him?  Was God’s work in the lives of Hannah, Daniel, and Jabez better, more kind, or wiser than in the lives of Job, or Jeremiah, or Paul?

According to Hebrews 11 we see that trust in God is not (and cannot be) rooted in our personal circumstances, but rather in the character of a faithful God Who is working in His children that which pleases Him, as He orders our lives for our good and His glory (see Romans 8).

The Word tells us elsewhere: “He is the Rock, His work is perfect: for all His ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity: just and right is He” (Deuteronomy 32:4).  The Psalmist reminds us that “The Lord is righteous in all His ways, and holy in all His works” (Psalm 145:17).

In declaring his trust in the Lord, the prophet Habakkuk indicated it was not contingent on any circumstances: “Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.  The Lord God is my strength…” (Habakkuk 3:17-19).

We often see both Old and New Testament saints giving thanks to God even in the middle of painful circumstances.  While the personal testimonies and experiences are different, I imagine they would share one common sentiment: God is good.

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Photo Credit: Tabitha Alloway

One of my favorite hymns is Day by Day.  The first verse goes:

Day by day, and with each passing moment

Strength I find to meet my trials here;

Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,

I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.

He whose heart is kind beyond all measure

Gives unto each day what He deems best—

Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Some of the most precious portions of Scripture to me are those in which God reveals His own heart of compassion toward His people.  It’s the theme that brightens even the darkest story.  We’re all familiar with the passage in Lamentations that speaks of the faithfulness, mercy, and compassion of the Lord.  Then Jeremiah goes on to say, “But though He cause grief, yet will He have compassion according to the multitude of His mercies.  For He doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men”.

God does not cause pain or withhold desire for no good purpose.

Isaiah breaks out in thanksgiving: “I will mention the lovingkindnesses of the Lord, and the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord hath bestowed on us…For He said, surely they are my people…In all their affliction He was afflicted…in His love and in His pity He redeemed them…” (Isaiah 63:7-9).

God sorrows in our sorrow; He is afflicted in our affliction.  We do not have a High Priest who   is insulated from our pain; He experiences it with us and has compassion on our weaknesses.

It is this God of love, kindness, and wisdom who composes my story and your story.  Do we trust Him to do what He deems best?  Are we content in His provision for and ordering of our life?

The Master Writer is weaving the days and circumstances of our lives into one story for His glory.  Every daily page whispers His goodness, and even the darkest chapters are traced with hope, pointing to the beauty of His eternal purpose.

And that eternal purpose hints at the fact that the Author’s story doesn’t end with us, with this life.  There is a “happily ever after” that’s already written, just awaiting publication.  If you know Jesus, aren’t you looking forward to reading that story?

 

Had You not granted Hannah’s wish

And given her a child…

Had You let Jabez feel anguish,

Not blessed with life so mild…

 

Had You not shut the lions’ mouths

When Daniel prayed to You…

Did You not save his friends, when, roused,

A despot gave death cue…

 

Had solitude been David’s lot

Instead of throne and crown…

Had Jacob not grasped riches sought,

Nor prosperity had found…

 

Had Hannah lifted empty arms

In worship to Your Name…

Had Jabez met some earthly harm

In showing forth Your fame…

 

Had Daniel died a martyr’s death

In service to his Lord…

Had fire snatched the faithful’s breath,

And death been their reward…

 

Had David sung in open fields

Instead of regal courts…

Had flocks and fields returned no yields

While Jacob sought the Source…

 

Your faithfulness would be the same,

Your goodness ever new,

Your mercy rich exalt Your Name,

And saints would hide in You.

 

You are the God of grieving Job,

Of joyful, dancing David.

Your ways and works across the globe

Will always be redemptive.

 

The God of weeping prophets and

The God of singing saints;

All things lie open in Your hand—

From You derive their fate.

 

You are the source of grace for Paul

When thorn afflicts him sore.

You save the cripple from a fall

And his weak legs restore.

 

You’re the God of brave queen Esther,

The God of humble Ruth;

To each his lot, Dispenser,

The One Source of all Truth.

 

In pain and gain, our love and loss

You are the Sovereign One;

You knew real sorrow at the cross

Now-risen, conquering Son.

 

You walked on earth in mankind’s shoes

You know heart’s deepest throb;

Appointing things as You so choose,

You hear the smallest sob.

 

You’ve cried and wept with broken heart,

Felt agony of pain;

When on the earth You shared our part,

Your loss became our gain.

 

To come to You a man must trust

You are the great I AM;

Your works are true and right and just,

And You reward the man.

 

Your ways are far past finding out,

No finite mind can see

Exactly what you are about—

Your great Eternity.

 

You are our life, our love, our light,

Our hope, our help, our haven,

Our Rock, Redeemer and our Right—

Praise God of highest heaven!

What Do We Do with Doubt? [VIDEO]

12 Thursday Oct 2017

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Look out, world.  I have a YouTube channel.  It’s still quite laughable in my mind, but alas, it now exists and I am now telling you about it.

All not-taking-myself-too-seriously aside, my first video seeks to answer the question, “What do we do with doubt?  Where do we go with it?”  I didn’t figure my channel needed much introduction besides simply jumping right in with something that matters to me, and I suspect, to many of you.

I hope you will find the discussion encouraging to you in your walk with the Lord, whether your current situation finds you steadily leaning on the everlasting arms or shakily hanging on for dear life.

You can find my first video here.  If it’s a blessing to you and you’d like to see more videos of this kind, along with some practical home, life, and school management videos, please consider subscribing to my channel.  Lord willing, this first video will not be my last.

God bless!  Soli Deo gloria.

Five Things: Hospitality Edition

09 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by in Home and Family, Living Faith

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This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase through one of these links, I may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. 

013Do you have a vision for hospitality?  Do you use your home as a place to welcome and refresh others?  Here’s some reading material on the subject that I’ve been chewing on lately.  I hope it will be an encouragement to you in this endeavor.

  1. Mystie Winkler has written several articles on homemaking and hospitality lately that I have found quite helpful.  Forget Pinterest or that magazine cover, Mystie’s tips get straight to the heart, encouraging us to be ready to show hospitality toward everyone who enters our home–by practicing on our own family members.  Here’s the most recent article I’ve enjoyed.
  2. Did you know that hospitality is a characteristic required of those in church leadership?  Tim Challies reminds us that the hospitality that elders are to exemplify is to be a characteristic all believers should pursue.
  3. I don’t usually read Christianity Today, but this article came to me recently by recommendation from another blogger.  Have you considered God’s role of “home-making”?  There’s good food for thought here, but I would suggest the conclusion we draw from this shouldn’t stop at awe and consolation for our souls (as wonderful as that is in and of itself!).  We’ve been made in the image of God and we can reflect His care for humanity in our care for our homes–in fact, it’s both explicitly encouraged and commanded.  All the same, if you are in a season in which you are overwhelmed by the mess, wondering if you’ll ever get things under control, take heart.  As the article says, your God has prepared and is preparing a home for you.  And He’s always on top of His game.
  4. My father-in-law recently finished reading Alexander Strauch’s The Hospitality Commands to our church over our fellowship meal on Sunday afternoons.  We took it about a chapter at a time and discussed how we might grow individually and as a church in showing hospitality.  This is a great read if you want to go deeper than a few blog articles will take you. 
  5. As I’ve considered God’s call for His children to practice hospitality, I’ve been reminded of a metaphor from one of my favorite mommy books:  Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic.  The chapter entitled “Heavy Branches” likens our gifts and the things we produce to fruit on a tree.

    In the side yard, right outside my window, were two old apple trees.  And year after year they made apples.  …these trees had been throwing apples on the ground every August for probably ninety years or so.  It is something I love about fruit-bearing trees and bushes–that God told them to make something, and they do it enthusiastically.  They don’t care about what happens to the fruit.  They do not measure their efforts or fuss when no one appreciates it.

    …What happens to all our fruit is not our problem.  That doesn’t mean that we are not to care about the fruit.  While it is on our branches, it is our life work.  It is an offering to God, and we ought to care intensely about the quality of our fruit.  But the branches are our responsibility; the ground is not.

    May we joyfully produce fruit in our homes to bless our families and any who walk through our door–without being discouraged when an apple gets bruised or the beauty we sought to create gets overlooked.  May we not grow weary in doing good–our God is at work in it to accomplish His purposes.

What’s your favorite book on hospitality?  Have you read any good articles on the subject lately?

How have you been blessed by the hospitality of others?

What things get in the way of you opening up your home, and how can you, by God’s grace, overcome those obstacles?

If you’re in a tough season of life, what are some small ways you can show love and welcome to others?

Running for Another

29 Wednesday Mar 2017

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I’m one of those crazy types that actually enjoys running.  Once upon a time I even looked like a runner.

Over the years, running has filled several important roles for me: it’s been a way of escape, a way to burn off energy, to get or stay in shape, to cope, to get alone and talk to God, to enjoy sunshine and wildlife, to improve my running time, to compete, to show off, to win.

Admittedly, some of those are more virtuous motivations than others.

But this past Saturday I had an opportunity to run for a very different reason.

My local women’s running clinic was invited to participate in the sixth annual Arkansas Run for the Fallen, an apolitical 146-mile weekend-long event honoring service men and women who died in the line of duty since September 11, 2001.  Our part was to join the team of running soldiers for one mile through the middle of town.

In the weeks leading up to the event, I thought about it quite a bit.  I read the stories of the two Navy SEALs who would be remembered at the Hero Markers at the beginning and end of our course.  I thought about my own grandparents and aunt and uncle who served in the Army Air Force and in the Navy.

And I felt quite small and pampered by comparison.  Not exactly worthy to be running with people who have taken on so much personal risk for something bigger than themselves–or for people who have quite literally laid down their lives for others.

When Saturday came and our red-shirted local ladies assembled, the anticipation we all felt was a strange mix of excitement and sobriety.  Soon the running servicemen arrived, paused to remember one fallen comrade, planted a flag in his name, and then we were off.

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The usual “racer’s mindset” tried to assume its place in my thoughts, but there wasn’t any room for it.  No room for looking ahead to see who you’re going to try to pass next–that wasn’t the goal.  No room for pulling away from the crowd–the purpose this time was to get lost in the crowd, in the small sea of red.  No room for going at your own pace–we had to keep pace with those who were leading us on.  No room for thinking about how to position yourself for the best finish so you could point to your rank or time in the end–this run was intended to point to someone else.

It’s easy to get comfortable in our lives here in the West and forget that the blessings we enjoy have been paid for by others.  So too as Christians, we can lose sight of the fact that our greatest, eternal blessings have been paid for by the Lord Jesus Himself.  Sometimes our normal routines need to be shaken up a bit to give us new perspective.

That’s exactly what happened for me on Saturday.  This whole experience has refreshed my view of the race set before us as Christians.

We “run with endurance” remembering those who have gone on before us and with our eyes fixed on Jesus (Hebrews 12:1-4). 

We encourage one another (1 Thessalonians 5:11) and cheer each other on rather than treating the gospel of God’s grace as a program for self-advancement and our fellow runners as competitors. 

We “keep in step with [His] Spirit” (Galatians 5:22-26)–He sets the pace for us to follow, not the other way around.

Our run on Saturday morning lasted less than ten minutes, but the impact of running to honor someone else has been felt all week.  And while my legs have been resting, the words of John the baptist have continued to run through my head:  “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30)

Let Him be seen as I run this race called life.  Not me.

In a world that preaches so often that we are the most useful or influential when we place ourselves on a pedestal to be seen by others, we need to be reminded that it’s ok, right even, to live outside of the spotlight, to blend in with the crowd of those who live–who run–not for themselves, but for the glory and honor of Another.

Soli Deo gloria.