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My Cross to Bear

09 Monday Nov 2015

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“So you want me to use this turkey meat, but what seasonings do I add to it to make it into sausage?” my sweet husband called up to me as I was closing my Bible and about to make the bed.

“Uh…” I said out loud with wide eyes, thinking, I never measure the herbs and spices, if I try to tell him a guess as to how much to put in, it’ll be more than my brain can handle this early in the morning and he won’t know where to find half of the spices anyway… “How about I come do that for you?”

A few minutes later I was dressed and downstairs, and he had the ground turkey already beginning to sizzle in the pan.

It was Sunday morning and we were getting ready for church. My disposition was remarkably cheerful this week. Sunday mornings can be the most stressful time of the week when you’ve got two small children to get ready, a meal to prepare, toys to pack, Bibles to load—and if you’re homeschoolers, it’s also the only day of the week that you actually have to be out the door by a specific time. Having a history of emotional Sunday mornings is part of what inspired my husband to take over the breakfast prep for me several years ago. Usually it involves pancakes or waffles, but this week it was sausage. Either way, having such a servant-hearted man is an incredible blessing.

But on this Sunday I may have been particularly happy because instead of having to make lunch to bring along with us, I had bought a frozen lasagna the day before and all I had to do was pull it out of the freezer and take it along to our friends’ house. (Who says you can’t ever buy peace of mind?)

Anyway, I’d just pop it in the oven at our friends’ house. Yes, that’s where we were headed. For church.

You see, we are a part of a small fellowship that meets in homes. This week church happened to be at a house only ten minutes down the road from us (perhaps another reason for the minimal stress of our morning). Other than the three year old coming downstairs in a white polo shirt and having to be instructed to wear something different (because I could do the math in my head: White Shirt + Lasagna = Disaster), getting ready and out the door was pretty smooth sailing.

The boys hopped in the van, I buckled up the three-year-old, my husband grabbed his guitar, threw it in the back, and we were set. We got in our seats, closed the doors, looked at the clock, looked at each other, and thought, “We’re early!”

Yes, indeed. It wasn’t yet 9:45 and we only had a ten minute drive to make. Sure, we’d like to have left sooner (maybe one day we’ll get there), and 9:55 is hardly early when the meeting is supposed to start at 10am, but this was progress, and progress is worth celebrating.

To our surprise, as we pulled into the rocky driveway ten minutes later, we found the parking area in the back of the house already full of vehicles. Apparently we were not so very early after all. Oh, well. At least all I had to do when we got inside was turn on the oven and sit down on the couch.

Nathaniel found a chair and set up his guitar while the boys and I found a place on a couch next to my sister-in-law. After singing praises and scripture songs, my father-in-law taught from Mark chapter 8. I was quite tired and admittedly had a hard time paying attention to the first section of verses he covered, but then I woke up a bit when he got to Jesus’ call of discipleship at the end of the chapter.

“Many Christians like to borrow this metaphor of taking up our cross and apply it to trials, saying ‘This trial—whether it be cancer or loss of a loved one—is my cross to bear.’ But that isn’t what Jesus is talking about. Those trials are involuntary—they happen to you. Jesus is making a call to His followers to do something voluntary—to deny themselves and take up their cross and follow Him. Even those who don’t follow Jesus experience trials like illness and loss. Those things are common to life, and certainly there are instructions for us in scripture about those things, but here Jesus calls us to deny ourselves for His sake—to be willing to endure whatever loss comes, not as a result of being human, but as a result of following Christ.”

I mulled over these words, trying to mesh this understanding with my own physical trials—a pregnancy related autoimmune disease and issues that accompany both it and its treatment—even as we moved on to another teaching, and then prayer and singing. After the meeting ended, we enjoyed some good discussion on the subject during lunch, fleshing out what “taking up our cross” might look like—living in obedience to Jesus even when it brings persecution or ridicule, loving Jesus more than this life even though our neighbors might think we’re lunatics, loving the lowly like Jesus did, spending time with them rather than seeking self-promotion and pridefully distancing ourselves from the needy. Our time of fellowship lingered into the evening before we all went home to prepare for the work week ahead.

That night I couldn’t sleep. As often happens when I so desperately need some shut-eye, my mind kept wandering to lesson plans and books and other nerdy and exciting things. Then I began to think again about Jesus’ words in Mark 8. “If anyone will deny himself and take up his cross and follow me…” And then I thought about my father-in-law’s comment that taking up our cross is not an involuntary thing, but a voluntary thing. Despite the practical application we had hashed out over lunch, I still wondered about its application to my trials. So if it’s not the disease and pain that’s my cross to bear, I thought, What is it?

I nudged Nathaniel, who was not quite asleep yet. “You know how your dad said that taking up our cross isn’t an involuntary thing like cancer?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was just thinking about it some more, and I still have a lot of questions. But I was thinking: Okay, so maybe my disease and whatever pain or other symptoms it causes aren’t my cross to bear, but maybe my choosing to joyfully serve others, to serve the Lord, in the face of that pain would be.”

“That sounds about right. I think that’d be a pretty good application of it.”

“I guess I’d be denying myself the ‘privilege’ of feeling sorry for myself or grumbling, choosing to be joyful instead. And not just for my sake. But for others.”

Nathaniel agreed.

After a pause I lamented, “That’s pretty convicting. That’s not what I usually do.”

We said our goodnights and my sweet, sleepy sounding-board husband drifted off as I lay contemplating this concept in light of the countless believers whose lives I have admired, and in light of Christ’s example. The people I have most looked up to for their faith and strength are those who have joyfully served others despite great physical pain, setbacks, and trials. The Lord Himself laid down His privileges, just in becoming a man! But even more so when He took upon Himself the wrath of God and the pain of public scorn and crucifixion, all the while praying, “Father, forgive them.” The cross wasn’t a hindrance to God’s plan, but the vehicle through which He would bring blessing to the whole world.

From what I can tell, my physical limitations and pains, should the Lord continue to choose not remove them, will be with me in this life whether I embrace them or not. So the ball is in my court: Will I shirk responsibility to respond joyfully and choose to grumble instead? Or will I take up the cross of humble surrender to the Lord’s will, seeking to rejoice in every circumstance and persevere in service to God and to others? On one side is a life of pain and inner turmoil with it. On the other is a life of pain overcome by the grace of God. One choice leads to bitterness and condemnation, the other to eternal joy and glory.

I let out a deep sigh, a kind of physical surrender to the supernatural peace of God that comes when at last we say, “Ok, I trust You.” And finally, too, a few moments later, I surrendered myself to restful sleep.

Here is what I read that evening from Elisabeth Elliot’s devotional, “Keep a Quiet Heart”, that prompted my late-night thoughts on this subject of taking up my cross. God is very kind to ordain even my reading schedule for His purposes and my benefit.

“The worst pains we experience are not those of the suffering itself but of our stubborn resistance to it, our resolute insistence on our independence. To be ‘crucified with Christ’ means what Oswald Chambers calls ‘breaking the husk’ of that independence. ‘Has that break come?’ he asks. ‘All the rest is pious fraud.’ And you and I know, in our heart of hearts, that the sword-thrust (so typical of Chambers!) is the straight truth.

If we reject this cross, we will not find it in this world again. Here is the opportunity offered. Be patient. Wait on the Lord for whatever He appoints, wait quietly, wait trustingly. He holds every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year in His hands. Thank Him in advance for what the future holds, for He is already there. ‘Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup’ (Psalm 16:5, NIV). Shall we not gladly say, ‘I’ll take it, Lord! YES! I’ll trust you for everything. Bless the Lord, O my soul!’”

~In the essay entitled Maybe this Year, page 51

I’ve many a cross to take up now,

And many left behind;

But present troubles move me not,

Nor shake my quiet mind.

And what may be to-morrow’s cross

I never seek to find;

My Father says, “Leave that to me,

And keep a quiet mind.”

~Poem by an anonymous author, page 52

“For those of us who are not at the moment in pain, may we not let slip any cross Jesus may present to us, any little way of letting go of ourselves, any smallest task to do with gladness and humility, any disappointment accepted with grace and silence. These are His appointments. If we miss them here, we’ll not find them again in this world or in any other.”

~ In the essay entitled Love’s Sacrifice Leads to Joy, page 68

“The Stronghold of Obstinacy”

24 Thursday Sep 2015

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“I want to turn the internets off, so it won’t take so long,” my four-year-old said one afternoon as we walked back to the house from checking the mail.  I chuckled, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

“I will turn the internets off,” he continued.  “That will make me happy!  Ha, ha, ha, ha!  I really can turn them off.  That will be good.  You won’t spend time on them. Ah-ha, ha, ha, ha!”

This adorable diabolical scheming is a pretty precious view into the heart of my child–helping me to see what he sees when mama checks out of the living room and into cyberspace.

With that scenario playing in my mind, the reading in My Utmost for His Highest this morning was quite convicting.  Here is an excerpt:

Do you have anything to hide from God?  If you do, then let God search you with His light.  If there is any sin in your life, don’t just admit it, confess it.  Are you willing to obey your Lord and Master, whatever the humiliation to your right to yourself may be?

Never disregard a conviction that the Holy Spirit brings to you.  If it is important enough for the Spirit of God to bring it to your mind, it is the very thing He is detecting in you.  You were looking for something big to give up, while God is telling you of some tiny thing that must go.  But behind that tiny thing lies the stronghold of obstinacy, and you say, “I will not give up my right to myself”–the very thing God intends you to give up if you are to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Lately my greatest claim to myself has been my own self-determination.  I get very frustrated when my plans are foiled, and I spend my time according to my whims and pleasures–rather than according to my responsibilities and divinely-appointed interruptions, which are the clear will of God for my days.  Instead of serving my husband and children, or producing something useful or edifying for others, I flit time away online or just twiddling my thumbs, being nothing but a busybody–finding some skewed sense of urgency, importance, and needfulness in what I am doing when I am really accomplishing nothing but my own entertainment and self-indulgence.

Thinking that my time is my own is part and parcel to thinking my life is my own, only I deceive myself into thinking otherwise.

O God, please help me to number my days, that I may present to You a heart of wisdom, to be careful how to walk, not as unwise, but as wise, making the most of my time, which You have allotted to me, because the days are evil.  And may I do all of this knowing that I am not my own, I have been bought with a price–with the precious blood of Christ–set apart to live every moment for Your glory, accomplishing the works You have prepared for me.

As I was writing all of this down in my journal, the boys were listening to the Jesus Storybook Bible.  As it told the story of Jesus’ and His disciples’ last evening together in the upper room, there is a supposed conversation going on about the fact that no one had washed their feet:

…Someone had to wash away the dirt, but it was a dreadful job.  Who on earth would ever dream of volunteering to do it?  Only the lowliest servant.

‘I’m not the servant!’ Peter said.

‘Nor and I!’ said Matthew.

Quietly, Jesus got up from the table, took off his robe, picked up a basin of water, knelt down, and started to wash his friends’ feet…

Hearing voiced the loud and proud objections so common to my own heart, “I’m not the servant!” and then imagining the quiet humility of Jesus in contrast about brought me to tears.

My life is not my own.  My time is not my own.

May God break down that “stronghold of obstinacy” within me.

May I learn to be a servant.  May I learn to be like Jesus.

A Time for Everything

20 Monday Apr 2015

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As I type I am anxiously awaiting a phone call. A sweet friend of mine is expecting her firstborn son. Her due date has passed, and her usually intermittent contractions have been intensifying today. I have the incredible privilege of being on the “first-call” list, even (hopefully) getting to play a support role in the birthing process.

You’d think I was in the earliest stages of labor. My anticipation and excitement is through the roof, I’ve been busy today trying to focus on the ordinary things that need to be done (like laundry, the dishes, schooling, and food prep) while also scrambling to make sure my bag is packed for the hospital—with personal items I may need, lotions and massage therapy tools that may be useful during labor, snacks, a Bible, my journal, a notebook for keeping track of labor’s progress and hopefully soon baby’s stats.

Bags packed, I finally got a text saying they were in town walking to encourage things to move along a bit more quickly (apparently the going has been slow). Sigh. Ok. Not needed yet. Hang in there, Lauren. Don’t get too excited. This could still go on for a couple of days. Just move on with your day and be ready whenever the call comes.

It’s a beautiful day, so I decided to walk down our long drive way to check the mail. The boys were in bed for nap time, and I usually like to step outside at this time of day for some fresh air. The grass and ivy, ferns and flowers, trees and bushes are all so lush and bright with color. Spring is a beautiful time of year, reminding us of God’s promise of new life. What a wonderful time of year to have a baby!

As I walked down the driveway I saw that the large trashcan was at the curb. Yes, the trash truck had been by and now the can was empty. I’ll get to pull that back up to the house, I thought. It wasn’t a hard job, but something about the slight physical exertion required sounded perfect to me right now. It would give me an opportunity to exert some of my pent-up energy. As I drew closer to the mailbox and the dumpster, I took a look down the road to our next door neighbors’ house. We had collected their trash in our can so that we could help them out during the difficult time of trial they’re facing.

It suddenly struck me that I could be celebrating the birth of a precious newborn and comforting a grieving widow this week. I do not know what the future holds exactly, of course, but it is a possibility. Our next-door neighbor, George, was recently diagnosed with both lung and brain cancer. About a week and a half ago, his wife Carolyn had to drive him to the ER as he suffered a heart attack. Just this past Saturday, when we stopped by to check on them, we found out they had just returned home from an overnight visit to the hospital—the cancer in George’s lungs had metastasized and began causing internal bleeding that had to be dealt with immediately. Carolyn is weary but hopeful that the Lord will deliver them from this trial. Our prayer is that we can be a blessing to them, that the Lord would intervene on George’s behalf, and that most of all they would hope in the Lord no matter what happens.

And so I walked back up to the house, mail in one hand and the handle of the trashcan in the other, remembering how, about six years ago, and about this same time of year, Nathaniel and I felt many of these same emotions. We lived next-door to a woman named Evelyn. At about the same time I gained a husband, she had lost hers. And with her husband, she had lost the will to go on. I visited her from time to time. We’d sit and have a snack and talk, or I’d sit with her while she watched TV. It was a very hard decision for both her and her daughter when they finally sold the house she had shared for decades with her husband and moved her into a nursing home, but one bad fall when Evelyn was home by herself sealed that fate. I continued to visit her in her new home—and Nathaniel and I were glad to share the news with her—we were expecting our firstborn son. I had hoped Evelyn would get to meet him, but we told her goodbye in the nursing home a couple of months before he was born. Life and death. Rejoicing and grieving. I remember how stunned I was to experience them so close in time.

Once the trashcan was back in its proper place, I gazed at the irises that had already bloomed and withered next our front porch, and I considered how fleeting life is. How beautiful, but how fleeting. Like the flowers that spring up as the days grow warmer, but fade ever so quickly away. We enjoy their radiant beauty—a reminder of the creative splendor of our God—but soon they whither as the cycle of the seasons moves on.

So, too, does the cycle of life move on. It can be a bleak meditation to consider that just as life seems to really get going, we begin to realize that our parents are aging, our friends are aging—we are aging. And not only this, but we see that when one person dies, the rest of the world just keeps on going without them, the majority of people unaware that someone has died at all. Our own insignificance and mortality begins to stare us in the face, and we wonder, what’s the point? We’re here for such a short amount of time. Much like the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, we ask, Why do we go about our work or pleasure just to leave it to another? Our lives are so fleeting, a vapor. Where is the significance that I long for?

But oh, when I consider the creative beauty of God, and His purpose in ordaining the seasons—both the natural seasons of each year and the changing seasons of our lives. There is much beauty to behold. And its purpose is not merely to grant us some bit of pleasure here and now, as precious a gift as that is, but to point us to the true and lasting beauty that is the Lord Himself in all of His glory and perfections. As we ache for the changing of winter into spring, so too our hearts long for the eternal spring to one day relieve us of every dark and dreary winter. He has set eternity in our hearts. He is not far from each of us.

And so this mixed up time of anticipation—in which I both delight in the thought of a friend’s new baby and fear the impending death of a dear neighbor’s husband—I remember the wisdom God has given concerning such things:

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—

A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.

What profit is there to the worker from that in which he toils? I have seen the task which God has given the sons of men with which to occupy themselves.

He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end.

I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and to do good in one’s lifetime; moreover, that every man who eats and drinks sees good in all his labor—it is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will remain forever; there is nothing to add to it and there is nothing to take from it, for God has so worked that men should fear Him.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-14

There is indeed a time for everything.  Including that phone call.  I suppose now I can take a deep breath and continue on with my day.

The Grace of Grape Tomatoes

29 Monday Dec 2014

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I was on my period. I hadn’t had enough to eat. It was about 11am, and I was at the grocery store with two little boys. We grabbed some bananas and carrots, and then I saw them: organic grape tomatoes. With the exception of one picky eater, my family enjoys snacking on these little red gems. So I picked up a package to examine it. Some of the tomatoes looked a bit wilted, so I placed it back on the temperature-controlled shelf and began to reach for another box.

And that’s when it happened. The box didn’t exactly like the way I had set it down, apparently, so in protest it decided to slowly lean forward until it fell to the ground, bouncing from cauliflower to lettuce to floor, where the box finally burst open, allowing over half of the precious fruit to scatter on the icky grocery store tile. Since there was no store clerk around to tell me, “Oh, it’s ok, I’ll take care of that,” I bent over and picked up every last tomato, closed up the box, and put it dutifully in my cart, with the words, “You break it you buy it,” spinning around in my head.

I thought at this point God was trying to teach me something: despite my being a bit of a grump about the whole thing, at least I did the right thing by picking them up and paying for the potentially damaged goods. But God wasn’t done with me yet, nor was He done with the grape tomatoes.

We meandered through the store, grabbing the things on my list (or was this the day that I went in for nothing more than peanut butter and made a list in my head as I shopped and ended up with half a basket full of groceries?), until we finally made it to the checkout line and then headed home.

My blood sugar levels were dropping by now and my muscles felt a bit weak. But we had to unload and put away the groceries before sitting down to eat lunch, so I got to it. I rearranged a few things in the fridge, managing to make room for the abundance of groceries I hadn’t planned on bringing home today (but when you’re out on Monday you might as well make the most of it and try to get what you need for the week so that by the time Thursday rolls around you can be at home doing something productive instead of having to go out to the store again, right?).

Then there they were, the last item to put away, those floor-germ-infested tomatoes. I figured I’d give them a preliminary rinsing off before putting them in the fridge using just water, until I thought better of it and pulled the vegetable cleaning spray out from under the sink. Spray, spray, spray. Toss, toss, toss. Rinse, rinse, rinse. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll just do this again before serving them so I feel confident that they’re clean.

And then it happened again. As I was turning toward the fridge, my limbs defied me and, after bumping into the refrigerator door, I dropped the box of tomatoes onto the floor…the kitchen floor that didn’t get cleaned last Friday like it was supposed to. And, sure enough, the box opened on impact and all those clean tomatoes went rolling on the floor, under the lip of the fridge, the oven, and the dishwasher.

I started to get angry. One of those less-than-justified “Why, God?!?” moments. But then I felt the tension in my clenched fists subside as I realized this was from His hand—not a curse, but an opportunity. An opportunity to see that I don’t have it all together. Not only am I not as physically in control as I’d like to be (hello, dropping the same box of tomatoes on the floor TWICE in the span of about 90 minutes), but neither do I really have things together emotionally or spiritually. I was ready to raise my fist at heaven, figuratively speaking, to whine and complain and throw a grown-up tantrum…over some tomatoes. Forget that I “did the right thing” in purchasing them at the store. I grumbled against the God of heaven. These tomatoes were simply a small chisel in the hand of a master craftsman, working to chip away at the hardened, bitter stone of my heart, in fact rebuking my self-righteousness by revealing to me that there was work to be done there at all.

On many occasions this kind of scrutiny, though private, would cause me to despair because I wasn’t living up to the perfect standard that I so desperately desire to meet. But in this instance, those tomatoes became a means of grace for me. As I washed them off again, with tears beginning to form in my eyes, I realized that Jesus came to save sinners. He came to die for sinners, to make them clean. And I am one. There is hope for me. There is grace for me, a sinner.

Like those tomatoes that needed washed yet again, so did I. What a joy that His gift of forgiveness, love, and cleansing is not given begrudgingly, as I grumbled at first to clean the tomatoes, but freely. In the very moment that I knew my sin and unworthiness, I also knew that “It is finished,” and I am redeemed, restored, and loved.

There are a lot more elaborate ways the Lord could choose to show me my sin and His love. But this simple little demonstration was sufficient to show that my attitude in such a small thing revealed big things about my heart. But “where sin abounded grace abounded all the more.” His mercy and grace are infinitely bigger than my sin. And so I thank God for the grace I found in an ornery package of grape tomatoes.

The Rich Young Ruler

28 Sunday Dec 2014

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From Luke 18:18-30

Hearing that the great Teacher was in his neighborhood, a rich young man comes to Jesus asking what he must do to inherit eternal life. Being a well-mannered man of high society, he begins this dialog politely by addressing Jesus as “Good teacher.”

Instead of commending him for his platitude, Jesus immediately recognizes the man as a flatterer.

“Why do you call Me good? There is no one who is good but God.” If this man calls Jesus good, whom the rich young ruler only sees as a mere man, a “good” teacher, Jesus can likely perceive that this man would be willing to call himself good. And that’s exactly where Jesus takes the discussion:

“You know the commandments…”

The young man could be beaming and hopeful at this point, “Yes, I have kept them from my youth!”

“What you lack is this: sell all your possessions, give to the poor, and come, follow Me.”

But the man goes away sad, because he owned much property. He’s just unwilling to let it go.

This rich young ruler came to Jesus asking what he could tack on to his self-professed squeaky-clean life in order to secure salvation for himself. Jesus pointed out to the man that it wasn’t something he could do, something he could add on, just one thing more for extra credit. What he lacked was the willingness to be lacking in possessions for the greater treasure of following Jesus—he was unwilling to let go.

Jesus basically told the guy, “He who does not forsake all to follow me cannot be my disciple.” “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me.” “Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”

Certainly the good deed of giving to the poor was a good and right goal that Jesus put before the man, but it was also a device to reveal the man’s heart—he had not, in fact, kept all the commandments. He’d blundered the two most important ones. He didn’t love God or the poor, he loved his honor and his riches. He didn’t have faith in God, he had faith in his own assumed “goodness”.

I wonder if the man went on in self-righteousness after that point, or if Jesus’ words eventually opened his eyes to see that he wasn’t so good after all.

I wonder if he clung even more tightly to his wealth, bearing the misery of an old miser to his grave, or if he finally did let it go, embracing instead life and joy and peace with God.

I wonder if we will recognize our own tendency to love our stuff more than God, more than our neighbor.

I wonder if we will take the blinders off and see our own spiritual poverty, despite what material riches we may possess, and trade it in for the true riches Jesus offers to those who are humble enough to see their need of Him.

Books Read from July 2012 to June 2013

13 Saturday Dec 2014

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I have, for quite some time now, wanted to keep a record of the books I’ve read each year.  What better place than on a blog?  I started keeping track of this in 2012 in my day planner, but now here it is making its debut on the interwebs.

Shepherding a Child’s Heart by Tedd Tripp  Excellent overview of parenting and child-training according to biblical commands and principles.  At the time I had a one- and three-year-old, so it was a good time to take a first pass at this book.

The Autobiography of George Mueller  Incredible testimony to God’s grace and provision, not to mention a great example of faith and prayer.  Must read.

The Hand of God by Alistair Begg  This book was given to me by my youth pastor when I graduated high school.  It’s a look at the life of Joseph, eleventh out of the twelve sons of Jacob (Israel), sold into slavery in Egypt, raised up from the dungeon by God to save his people and declare God’s good purposes in it all.  It’s a Romans 8:28 kind of story.  And one that I’ve read through twice now.

Managing God’s Money by Randy Alcorn  Very thorough look at the Christian view of stewardship.  Challenging our usual perspectives, freeing us to give generously and manage our money well so that we can use it wisely for God’s purposes (because, as the title suggests, it’s all God’s anyway).  I only slightly disagree with the handling of the subject of debt, being that my husband and I have a conviction to never go into debt–even for a house.

Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic I read this little gem of a parenting book twice that year.  Encouraging.  Hilarious.  Spiritual heart-surgery for moms.

Lose Your Mummy Tummy by Julie Tupler  Having a one-year-old at the time and recently discovering that my stomach muscles were not quite where they used to be, I picked up this book and have been doing the exercises (when I think of it) and have indeed significantly improved my condition.

Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliot  One year after giving birth to my second son, I had just gotten off of prednisone, and the darkest year of my life was finally giving way to somewhat brighter days, but the struggle for joy, vision, and stability continued.  Elisabeth Elliot’s words in this devotional pointed me to tough, trusting stability in Christ and in Him alone, helping me to crawl out of my pit of depression.  God bless Elisabeth Elliot.

The Ministry of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson  Dealing with depression you can hardly see straight enough to motivate yourself to do anything, much less inspire your children as you care for and train them.  This book by Sally Clarkson gives fresh perspective on motherhood, encouraging moms to give grace to their children, looking to the life of Jesus as our example.

Eat Fat, Lose Fat by Mary Enig and Sally Fallon  This would be a follow-up to Nourishing Traditions which I must have read the previous year.  They promote properly prepared grains and legumes, whole foods, low sugar, and healthy fats (particularly coconut oil and cod liver oil) to aid weight loss and alleviate health problems.  Good read, but many of the recipes are far fetched for my lifestyle.

Preschoolwise by Gary Ezzo  Love ’em or hate ’em, I have read most of the Babywise books.  I don’t necessarily endorse them, but have found them helpful in establishing order (generally more so with toddlers and older) and especially for the tools I can add to my child training toolbox (blanket time, anyone?).

The Pilgrim’s Regress by C S Lewis  Listened to this as an audiobook.  Fascinating exploration of ideologies that compete with a biblical worldview.  The “regress” section of the book, however, is quite disappointingly short, but that is understandable since Lewis penned this book shortly after becoming a Christian himself.  He couldn’t write what he didn’t yet know.  🙂

Oh, For Real! by Heavenly Homemakers’ Laura Coppinger  This is a cookbook.  And it is a wonderfully practical whole-foods cook book.  Yes, I do read cookbooks.  This one has a great bunch of introductory information and tips.

Made to Crave by Lysa TerKeurst  As you may have noticed, there are a couple of cook books on this list.  So you might safely assume I have a thing for food.  And that explains the need for this book.

Large Family Logistics by Kim Brenneman  I revisit this book regularly.  It’s a great read every time, and a great resource when I need to refocus on one particular area of my life as wife, mom, homemaker–so much is covered in this book.  It is a manual for life.  I believe this was the second time I read it.

Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry  The follow-up distopian novel to Lowry’s The Giver.  Nathaniel and I read this together on a road trip.  I still need to find a copy of The Messenger to complete the series…

The Jesus StoryBook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones  I have read this through I don’t know how many times with my boys.  What a joy to cover the stories of the Bible from beginning to end, all with an eye to the main story of redemption through Jesus Christ.  It is beautifully and whimsically illustrated.  While I enjoy this book with my children, I do feel that at times it does a bit more interpretation than I would have liked, especially in the way it puts words into Jesus’ mouth that are not even real paraphrases of things He actually said.  Creative license?  Yes.  Main message remains unchanged?  True.  But it is still an area in which I think we ought to exercise a bit more caution.  That is all.

The Good Samaritan

04 Thursday Dec 2014

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From Luke 10:25-37

An expert in the Law of Moses came to Jesus and asked Him “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

The Scripture says the man asked this question to test Jesus, and in accordance with His usual style in such situations, instead of answering the question Himself, Jesus asked the man what he thought: “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” What tasteful conversation skills—allowing the expert to speak on his area of expertise. Well played, Jesus.

“’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’, and ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'”

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

This was perhaps a brief moment of pride for the law expert—his conclusion had just been affirmed, after all. But he wanted to justify himself, the scripture says. So he asked this question: “Who is my neighbor?”

At this point, Jesus could have very easily just answered straightforwardly—“Well, anyone near you who is in need is your neighbor.” That is how we like to summarize Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan. But that’s not actually the point. Jesus never really answered the man’s question, despite the fact that the question itself does logically follow the train of thought of the command, “Love your neighbor”.

As Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan, it demonstrates that this expert in the law was asking the wrong question—and for the wrong reason.

Let’s read the story for ourselves in Luke 10:30-35:

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. `Look after him,’ he said, `and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

This scenario gives us one man who is hurt, and several men who interacted with him. If Jesus were directly answering the man’s question, he’d have set up a story in which one man is wondering who his neighbor is, and then has to choose between several options. Jesus turns the question on its head, demonstrating that obeying God by loving others doesn’t begin with my evaluation of their worthiness, but with my willingness to help anyone who is in need.

The priest and the Levite demonstrate the hearts of someone asking the wrong question—seeking to justify themselves, they’re the ones thinking, “Who is my neighbor? This man? No. I don’t know the man. Besides, I am important and must get to my important destination and do my important religious things for God. This man’s blood will defile me and make me late. I don’t have to help him—he’s not my neighbor. Perhaps someone else will help him.” Ah, the logic of self-justification, taking the word “neighbor” in God’s command and finding in it a loophole that allows selective obedience.

In contrast, we see a Samaritan come along and take pity on a man who is his social and political enemy—by no stretch of the imagination is this injured man his neighbor. The Jews despised Samaritans, and it’s likely the Samaritans returned the sentiment. This Samaritan, however, doesn’t seem to get tripped up with “Is this man my neighbor?” He simply sees a man in need. And then sees to it personally that those needs are met.

How does Jesus bring this lesson home for the man who sought to justify himself?

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

Never mind the first question, Jesus is saying. Answer this question.

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

He Remains Faithful

11 Tuesday Nov 2014

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So often I’m confronted by my own lack of faithfulness.  To keep up with housecleaning, to keep up correspondence with precious old friends and family, to proactively train my children, to to keep up with finances, to write in my journal, to meditate on God’s word, to stick to a meal plan (or follow through with any plan, for that matter), to keep the things of the Lord at the front of my mind, to keep looking to Jesus as the greatest treasure of my life when I am faced with lesser things that vie for my attention.  And I have a tendency to become consumed with my failures, endlessly looking within until all I can see is my own inadequacies.  It’s a good recipe for discouragement.

IMG_4265Such was my state of mind the other morning as I sat out on our front porch, soaking in the early morning sunlight and breathing the crisp, cool air, trying to wake up enough to read my Bible before the boys awoke and demanded my attention.  Since we’d recently had some good rain, I could hear a quiet rush of water in our creek, the sound gentle but constant.  The birds, squirrels, and even a deer had all put on a small show for me.  Getting to see some of God’s curious creatures always seems a special gift to me that makes me smile.  Some relaxation and a smile was nice, but still I was carrying the weight of my own failures, my own lack of faithfulness.

I began to study the trees, now rich with colors of orange, red, green, and brown.  I love fall.  Every year.  Every … year … It struck me how faithful and constant the seasons are.  And how mankind has for all of his history depended upon them for survival, for sustenance.  All of the constants by which we measure time and number our days, the sun, moon, and stars, the day and night and seasons, these things are constant because they are made and upheld by the ultimate constant:  God.

Then God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years; and let them be for lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth”; and it was so.   Genesis 1:14-15

He did good and gave you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, satisfying your hearts with food and gladness.  Acts 14:17 

He [Christ] is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the word of His power.  Hebrews 1:3

So many truths of Scripture poured into my head as I gazed upon the beautiful view of fall foliage on our own little slice of creation.  But most of all, I was struck by God’s constancy, His faithfulness, His utter dependability–especially now in contrast to my own lack of the same.  The God who created the heavens and the earth, who keeps this world spinning, who keeps the seasons coming, on whom we all depend whether we realize it or not–this unchangeable, trustworthy God has sent His Son to die in my place, wiping clean my record and crediting His faithfulness to my account.  He has called me His child, promised to never leave me nor forsake me, and has promised to return for me some day, righting all the wrongs and establishing His righteous kingdom forever.  Why do I despair over my own instability when I have such a Rock to lean on?

So often, blinded by my own self-reliance or self-loathing, I fail to hear creation screaming to me of God’s faithfulness (see Psalm 19).  The beautiful, constant, humbling reminder that all of creation–and even all of my salvation–depends first and foremost (and ultimately) upon God’s faithfulness and not my own.  Praise God.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.
 
Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.
 
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!
 
Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!