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Kept and Keeping

~ Rest in Grace, Labor in Love

Kept and Keeping

Tag Archives: meditations

Learning from My Children: To Dance Like David

28 Tuesday Feb 2017

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

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boys, children, dancing before the Lord, dancing for joy, dancing like David, Joy, Learning from my Children, meditations, motherhood, Music, parenting, Reflections, worship

https://i0.wp.com/www.jesuswalk.com/david/images/tissot-david-dancing-before-the-ark-640x444.jpg

“David Dancing before the Ark” by James Tissot.  The ephod might have been a simple robe like this, or it might have been a loincloth.

Last night as I was making dinner I put on a Fernando Ortega CD.

My seven-year-old began moving to the music, something reminiscent of interpretive dance and ballet, though he has had no instruction and has seriously no chance at all of picking up such graceful moves from his parents.

At the end of “All Creatures of our God and King” my son announced that he wanted to dance to that song for next year’s talent show.

My initial reaction was less than enthusiastic.  I’m a rather reserved person.  I’d be somewhat embarrassed for him if he did something like that, something so…so…contrary to our culture’s gender stereotypes.  I wouldn’t want him to be labeled or made fun of.

And then it hit me:  I was responding in my mind like Michal did to David.

Are you familiar with the story?

And David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, and David was wearing a linen ephod.  So David and all the house of Israel were bringing up the ark of the Lord with shouting and the sound of the trumpet.

Then it happened as the ark of the Lord came into the city of David that Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart.

My precious boy was dancing before the Lord, in jeans and no shirt, joyfully moving his feet and lifting his hands to heaven, rejoicing in a song of praise that he has long loved.  Not unlike David danced before the Lord to celebrate the return of the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem.

And I was thinking about what other people would think of it if they saw it.  Not unlike Michal, who despised David for his exuberant worship and criticized him with biting sarcasm.

My son wasn’t the one missing something–I was.

“I will celebrate before the Lord,” David responded.  “I will be more lightly esteemed than this!”

Oh for the freedom to express our love for the Lord, giving Him the worship that He is due without allowing the fear of man to hinder us.

Am I willing to be undignified in the views of the world?  Am I willing to come to God as a joyful child?  Without reserve?  Without concern?

Am I willing to give my children the freedom to do so?

My boy may not remember this idea by the time the talent show comes around next year, but I at least am taking his example to heart.

Has the Lord ever taught you a lesson through the simple, unreserved faith of your children?  Please share in the comments below!

The Word Became Flesh, Part One

21 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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Advent, Christmas, Jesus, Lamb of God, meditations, Son of God, Word became flesh, Word of God

This is Part One in a Series of meditations on the incarnation from John chapter one.  If you missed the intro post, you can find it here. 

Jesus is the Word of God.  I’ve been meditating on John chapter one for a while now (months, actually), and I can’t get passed this description.

Words are essential to clear communication.  But written words alone can’t always give us a completely accurate picture.  Ever sent an email that was completely misinterpreted by someone because your tone and inflection was taken in a totally unintended way?

In Jesus we have a picture of what God is like and who He is–in words, in deeds, in emotion, everything.  We don’t exactly have a visual because we are those who believe without having actually seen Him (1 Peter 1:8, John 20:29).  (Cheesy nativity scene pictures admittedly don’t help, but alas I have succumbed.)  Nothing seen can truly define the unseen God anyway.  Maybe that’s why the bible didn’t come complete with an inspired painting of the Lord.

Still, in Jesus Christ, we have the ultimate representation, the ultimate communication about God.

God, after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the world. And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the word of His power.  Hebrews 1:1-3

This Word was not only spoken or written, but it was translated into real, live humanity.  To be seen.  To be touched.  To be felt.  To be heard.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.  John 1:14

But more than a mere representation, more than just a communication, the scripture demonstrates that this Word has been around since the beginning.  This Word was with God.  This Word was God.  Emmanuel, God with us, isn’t just a platitude or a nice meaning for a nice person’s name.  It describes the very essence of the incarnation itself.

It tells us who Jesus is.

More to come tomorrow.  But for now, I’d love to hear your thoughts.  Have you ever longed for God to show Himself to you?  Second Corinthians 4:6 says “For God, who said, ‘Light shall shine out of darkness,’ is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” How does this compare with the description of Jesus in John chapter one?  How does this meet our longing, at times, to see God? 

Part Two   Part Three

The Word Became Flesh: A Short Series of Meditations on the Incarnation from John Chapter One

20 Tuesday Dec 2016

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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Advent, Christmas, Jesus, John chapter one, Lamb of God, meditations, Son of God, the Incarnation, Word became flesh, Word of God

The opening of the Gospel of John is a grand invitation to “come and see” who this Jesus, this “Word” and “Light” and “Son of God”, is.  The first sentences to leave the apostle’s pen are some of the most poetic and yet absolute statements about Christ in all of scripture:

In the beginning was the Word,

and the Word was with God,

and the Word was God.

He was in the beginning with God.

All things came into being through Him,

and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being.

Three verses, six strong assertions.  They are foundational statements–not merely about this man Jesus, but also about the nature of God Himself and the relationship of Jesus to all of Creation.

This isn’t a passage to gloss over.  It is rich with grandeur.  To simply nod and move on doesn’t seem right.  I have to weigh these statements because they are heavy.

Who is this Jesus?  Do I believe the things John is saying about Him?  Do I also accept the testimony of John the Baptist that “this is the Son of God, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world”?

The apostle John says that “His own did not receive Him.”  Jesus warns in the Sermon on the Mount that few actually believe and follow Him.  And so I have to ask myself these questions and not rush past them.  I have to take time to ponder, to let it all sink in.

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, who were born not of blood, nor of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.  (John 1:12-13)

So the invitation is to come and see–and believe.  Come and see–and become a child of God.  Come and see–and receive grace upon grace.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.  (John 1:14)

I invite you to join me in meditating on the incarnation over the next few days leading up to Christmas.  Let us sit for a while in John chapter one as we prepare to welcome and celebrate the One who has come and is coming again.  

Part One   Part Two   Part Three

Of Children and Angels: A Thought Experiment

14 Tuesday Jun 2016

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family

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Tags

children, children and angels, do not despise, love, meditations, motherhood, parenting, thought experiment

cherubs

Ditto by Raffael, public domain

Imagine with me, if you will, that your children are little cherubs instead of mere humans.  (I know, I know, this is an inaccurate view of both children and of angels, but bear with the thought experiment.)

Suppose your little cherubs, instead of being in your care every day and every night, were instead entrusted to your care only during the day, and you were to return them to their heavenly Father every evening.  What would they report to Him?

Would they climb up on His lap, throw their arms around Him and say, “Oh, Father, I had the most wonderful day!  This ‘mother’ you have given me is so kind!  She is so much like You!”

Or would the child perhaps say through a sniffle, “Oh, Father!  She yelled and yelled and yelled!  I wanted her to see my picture, but she was too busy.  I wanted her to play with me, but she had ‘work’ to do.  And when I cried, she yelled and scolded me even more.  Oh, I wish I could just be with You.”

Or perhaps, “Oh, Father, today was rough.  I disobeyed ‘mother’ and she spanked me.  She told me to talk to You about it, too.  I’m sorry.  She said she would talk to You, too, since she yelled when she didn’t want to.  I guess we both need You.  Will You help ‘mother’ and me to be more like You?”

Or perhaps, “Umm… Hi.  Do You really love me?  This woman who You gave me to isn’t very nice.  She says she loves you and that I should, too, but she ignores me, and when she doesn’t ignore me, she hits me.  And I don’t even know what I did wrong.  Are You even there?”

Point being:  If we could imagine the report our children would give to God each day were they to literally go and sit on His lap, how would that change the way we treat them?  And besides a report that could be given, how does our behavior coupled with our claims to follow Christ add up in their little heads?  Do we put a stumbling block in front of them?  Do we upset their faith by our lack of self-control?

Or do we, by both consistent love and consistent training (and confessing humility when it is–so often–needed), demonstrate the heart of the God who gave His own Son so that these precious little ones could someday call Him Father?

Now, the Bible is clear—children are not angels—angels are more like bright, shining, terrifying mighty-men than like the silly little cherub images that humanity has conjured up.  But Jesus does say in Matthew 18:10,

See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven continually see the face of My Father who is in heaven.

Directly preceding this verse is the exhortation to pluck out our eye or cut off our hand if it causes us to sin.  Do we take Jesus’ command to “not despise” our children this seriously?  What gets in the way of loving our children the way we ought?  Are we willing to part with whatever it is?  For their sake?  For the sake of the glory and gospel of Christ?  In the very fear of God?

 

Gone Country: Reflections on the Last Two Years

05 Thursday May 2016

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family

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Bow Hunting, Changing Seasons, Country Living, Creation, Gone Country, Honeysuckle in May, Hunting, meditations, Moving to the Country, Naturalist, Nature, Nature Studies, Nature Study, Outdoors, Reflections, seasons, Therapy

I grew up in the booming, bustling suburbs of North Texas. While it wasn’t exactly a concrete jungle, it was a far cry from “small town America”. While most of my time was spent in school or organized sports, I loved to venture off on a trail near our neighborhood—a trail that wound its way through town, along a creek and what little pasture land that was left. This was always my escape, my therapy, if you will. Getting away from everything else and catching glimpses of what God has made—birds in the trees, ducks in the creek, the rare treat of a rabbit popping out of the bushes, an orange sunset beyond an empty field and the line of trees that scaled the horizon—whether I ventured out in a pair of running shoes or on my bike, this was my retreat. My place to think, to pray, to cope.

I know that I more or less grew up as a “city girl”, but I like to think I was a country girl at heart.

Fast forward a decade or two—through my college years and beyond early married life in the sizable city of Tulsa. My husband Nathaniel and I had now moved back to our small college town in Arkansas, eager to find a quiet place in the country; a place we could let our energetic young sons roam free. After two years in an apartment, we found it. A nice little cabin of a house on seven acres. And in our price range thanks to its being on the market for over a year and the owners’ eagerness to get out from under their mortgage.

And probably also because of the three-foot-deep 1980’s Jacuzzi tub that took up an entire small bedroom upstairs—surrounded by pink carpet for good measure.

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The Lord answered our prayers for a “good house for cheap”. The day after we closed, a bunch of our friends helped us begin the moving process.

And they helped us rip out the defunct tub, taking it out the six-foot-wide window and lowering it carefully down from the roof with a friend’s tractor, happily opening up another bedroom for us.

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Rub a dub, dub…how many men can fit in a tub?

We spent the next two months sleeping sometimes at our apartment and sometimes at the house while we worked late into the night to remodel the upstairs (all of it having been covered in said pink carpet). It was a tremendous relief to finally move in for good.

Another great relief came when someone paid us $200 for the tub. Seeing as how it sat for a month on our front porch, making us feel a little too hillbilly for my liking, I would have paid someone to haul it away! But this is Arkansas, after all, so it thankfully didn’t take too long to find some real hillbillies to take it off our hands.

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You want one for your front porch, don’t you?  You know you do.

That was two years ago.

I’m now sitting on our front porch just after sunset, enjoying the mild spring temperature and the sound of the water rushing in our creek after last night’s heavy rain. Our creek. This has to be one of the best features of this slice of creation we call home.

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It provides the pleasant sound of rushing water and supports the lush vegetation and wildlife we get to see on a regular basis. Not to mention it’s fun to play in when the water is low.

One of my favorite sensations since moving out here is the smell. The flowing water and cooler temperatures of evening bring wafts of sweet, clean smelling air—and especially this time of year, when the honeysuckle is in bloom.

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I’ve found that I am far more aware of the changing seasons now that we live in a home surrounded by grasses and trees. At the very least, I have to notice the first dandelions of spring since my boys love to pick these yellow flowers and surprise me with them on a daily basis as soon as they pop up out of the dead grass. And I don’t think I ever had any idea what time of year honeysuckles began to bloom and share their sweetness with the world—but now I know it very well and look forward to the end of April and all of May, when they are at their peak.

Soon, too, it will be berry picking time. There are wild blackberry bushes by our creek that have already worn their white blooms so beautifully—and I know that the berry farm two miles away must also be showing signs that the rich, juicy fruit will be ready for the picking in just another month. The boys and I read Blueberries for Sal each year before we go and gather several gallons of them, popping them warm from the sun into our mouths, the boys with purple juice running down their chins. It’s not a bad way to mark the beginning of summer.

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I can’t say that I wasn’t aware of the seasons when we lived in town—I was, to be sure, and especially the coming of fall when I have always found sweet relief from the relentless heat of summer in the south. But I don’t think of seasons like I did as a kid (mostly by the arbitrary signposts of school starting or winter and spring breaks) or even as I did a few years ago (seeing summer as something to merely endure and winter as a time for Christmas and trying to avoid the flu). Being out here means I simply can’t help but notice the changes in the grass and trees, the flowers and the wildlife when I step outside our door. I now don’t just lament that we didn’t get any snow to play in this year. I’m wishing we’d had a good solid freeze to kill off more of the ticks and mosquitoes. Despite the fact that I’ve mostly learned to shrug off all kinds of insects and spiders, simply ducking away from wasps and bees and brushing other assailants away when they happen to land on me rather than freaking out about it, I’m still not looking forward to increased numbers of the two aforementioned blood-suckers and the itchy welts they inevitably leave. This year’s bug situation aside, however, I now understand so much more the beauty and unique bounty each season brings—and how much we depend upon them for our food.

The colors, smells, sounds, and other sensations that mark the seasons have been great fun to share with our children. It’s a huge part of their early education, just to notice the world around them, the things that God has made: collecting leaves and bark, flowers and insects, poking with a stick at an ant pile in order to observe the little red soldiers at work, sitting outside at night to watch the moon and the stars, playing “Pooh Sticks” on the bridge over the creek and noticing how sometimes the sticks move quickly and sometimes they don’t move at all depending upon how much rain we’ve had recently.

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Of course, there are some unintended consequences of raising boys in the country—like when my youngest, who was only two when we moved out here and thus is more thoroughly countrified than his older brother, saw a swimming pool at a hotel and exclaimed gleefully, “Look Mama! They built us a pond!”

It was one of those Beverly Hillbilly moments.

And there’s the unavoidable skill that little boys pick up from their father when there aren’t neighbors within view—peeing off the porch. This easily translates, in a three-year-old’s mind, into peeing off of the top of the slide at the playground or out of the side of the van in a parking lot.

Theoretically speaking, of course.

Perhaps this has created some extra work for me in training the boys on how to behave in public, but along with that there have been many good opportunities for us to work together as a family—clearing trails in the woods, piling up tree branches and sticks to make a bonfire, digging up rocks and dirt in our crawl space so that we can encapsulate it, lining the smaller creek that runs by our house and empties into the big creek with stones, watering freshly planted peach trees, and this year preparing the ground and growing seedlings to start our first garden.

I’d like to say we are eagerly anticipating a bountiful harvest, but at this point we will be doing well if any of our crops survive.

Living in the country has certainly brought a heavier work load for me (and a heavier dirt load for our floors—one day, I keep telling myself, we will have a mudroom), but I welcome the opportunity to be outside in a place I love. About four of our acres are covered in trees, but the rest is a mixture of various grasses and ground-covers that needs to be mowed six months out of the year. After mowing just the half-acre right around our house with a used-to-be-self-propelled push mower, I was elated to get a zero-turn riding lawnmower. Cruising across our yard, feeling the warm sun and breeze on my skin and the speed and power of the machinery beneath me, I have almost come to appreciate the annoying few lyrics that I can remember from “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” that used to play over the loud speaker at high school softball games.

…Almost.

Speeding around on the mower has perhaps translated too easily into speeding along down the curvy asphalt roller coaster on our route into town. I used to be so much more careful when we lived in town. I guess there’s something about the fresh air, the usually unpopulated roads, and the general feelings of independence that bring out my inner libertarian. That and it makes driving a minivan much more fun if I can imagine it’s a race car. Oops.

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Yes, we have a beautiful drive into town.

On a much more law-abiding note, living in the country (perhaps, if I’m honest, along with my fascination with The Hunger Games) has led to a growing interest in hunting, what with my recent acquisition of a compound bow and the plentiful supply of deer that grace our land. Of course, to make this paragraph accurate, I’ll have to get a hunting license first. Cue screams from my inner libertarian.

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Too bad this was taken through a screen…

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Accuracy…meh.  Precision…not bad.

It’s clear to me that living in the country is beginning to leave its mark on us. As a matter of fact, my husband insisted on playing “Sweet Home Alabama” on his guitar while I read him this article to get his feedback.

Silly interludes aside, I have to say that since I didn’t grow up in the country, and despite having lived in this place for two years now, all of our activities out here are still so new to me—bird watching, star gazing, gardening, lining a creek with stones, attempting to identify flowers and plants and bugs, cutting trails, pitching tents and hammocks, talking about raising chickens next year—it’s helped me to realize that while I received a good education, and even a degree, I still have so very much to learn about the world God has made. I’m like a child trying to soak up every experience of the natural world around me, just beginning to learn that each object I encounter has a name and a purpose.

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Purpose. I’ve wondered at times if we’re not just hiding ourselves away on our land without one. Having never lived on more than a quarter acre before in my life, the thought of “Are we actually making good use of this land?” has crossed my mind.

Of course we want our children to have room to run around and explore. And we enjoy the quiet and privacy, as well as the potential for food production. But it wasn’t until last fall that I had a moment of confirmation that, yes, this is why we have this place.

We held a shindig with somewhere near forty friends, old and new. Our small living room was easily crowded with only a fraction of the people who had come over. Cars lined the long driveway from the big creek up past the house. I had been so busy with serving food that I missed a good portion of the activities. But right around dusk, when I finally stepped out on the front porch to see how things were going outside, I had to stop and smile. I could see shadows of our friends circled around a bonfire a stone’s throw away on the other side of the yard creek. Someone was playing a guitar. Most were singing praises.

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Yes. This. This is why we’re out here. Not just for our family to enjoy, but to be able to share this place with others.

I can only hope that our guests (and the members of my family) will find this place half as beautiful and comforting as I do. I’ve always needed to get outside to get away. Getting out of the four walls of our house is a metaphor for getting out of the four walls of my own mind. I need to be able to see beyond myself—beyond the duties and messes and failures that can so frustrate me, the thoughts that seek to entrap me—to see the expanse of the sky, the bigness of the world outside of my concerns, and to know that my God has made it all and holds it all together. His faithfulness to His creation and His transcendence keep me grounded when I am tempted to give into the waves of turmoil spilling over within my soul.

Living in the country doesn’t make anyone more godly or more spiritual, but I have found it a balm to my soul to be able to walk outside and see what God has made—to catch a glimpse of His nature revealed in creation.

So I’m thankful to be right here where we are.

The Lord knows I need it.

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Purity Isn’t for Me

12 Friday Feb 2016

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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devotional, glory of God, love, marriage, meditations, Purity, sanctification, set apart life, singleness, the

Purity isn’t for me. No, really—it isn’t.

There seems to exist some disillusionment for those who have reached what we could call “the other side of purity”. I’ve seen an article or two from people in my own generation bemoaning the fact that saving one’s virginity for the wedding night just wasn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. The reality that came after saying “I do” just hasn’t seemed to measure up to the ideal they were promised by their parents and youth pastors. Somehow these people who once made a commitment to purity now regret following through with it.

But why?

Maybe they were given all of the practical considerations and potential blessings of purity as though they were promises: avoiding STDs and unwanted pregnancy, having the potential for a very special physical relationship in marriage free from comparison with and the baggage of past “experience”, having a sense of self-respect, keeping your parents and church leaders happy (because the Bible says so!), making sure you don’t waste your gift on someone who doesn’t really love you, and, let’s not forget “married sex is the best sex”. In the minds of all too many teens and young adults, this boils down to: you will be healthier and happier if you wait. None of those are necessarily bad considerations or potential outcomes, mind you, but perhaps, neither are they proper motivation for a lifetime of purity.

I would offer that those who are disillusioned with the results of waiting didn’t understand what purity is for in the first place. Their complaints seem to be along the lines of “It didn’t work out for me like I thought. It didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.” But, as the title of this article suggests, purity—in the Christian sense—isn’t for me.

My husband and I were recently asked to speak to a local youth group about how the Lord worked to bring us together (especially since our story is quite different from the way many people go about finding a spouse), so the issue of purity has been fresh on my mind for the past several weeks.

One of the discussion questions my husband tossed out that night for the teens to consider is, I believe, a very fitting one for any godly discussion of purity: What is the most important thing in the world to you?

I’d be interested to hear answers to that question from those who regret their past purity.

Hopefully those who know the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior would at least know that the answer ought to be God Himself, or some variation including loving, serving, or glorifying Him. After all, the Bible says “Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” The Westminster Shorter Catechism suggests that the “chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” Once you know that is the correct answer, it’s pretty easy to come up with—but a whole lot harder to say honestly, isn’t it?

Riding that train of thought a little further, the greatest commandment, according to Jesus, is this:

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.

Here’s something to consider: If this is the greatest commandment, perhaps we should understand God’s call to sexual purity in light of it. Could it be that the goal of those “lesser” commands is in fact to obey that first one? Let’s review a few passages and see:

 

Now flee youthful lusts and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart. 2 Timothy 2:22

 

“Youthful lusts” stand in opposition to the pursuit of “righteousness, faith, love and peace”, and this is to be done with others who “call on the Lord”—the Lord and His goals for us seem to be the focus.

 

Finally, then, brethren, we request and exhort you in the Lord Jesus, that as you received from us instruction as to how you ought to walk and please God…that you excel still more…For this is the will of God, your sanctification; that is, that you abstain from sexual immorality…For God has not called us for the purpose of impurity, but in sanctification. So, he who rejects this is not rejecting man but the God who gives His Holy Spirit to you. 1 Thessalonians 4:1-8

 

We are exhorted to walk in a way that pleases God, here and also in Colossians 1:10. The strong message of this passage to the Thessalonians is that our sanctification, or being “set apart” unto God, is not only pleasing to God but is also somewhat synonymous with sexual purity. In other words, good luck being set apart for God’s purposes while clinging to sexual sin. Sexual purity is so important because sexual sin is so at odds with our greatest goal: loving and glorifying God.

And perhaps the strongest statement yet:

 

…the one who joins himself to the Lord is one spirit with Him. Flee immorality. Every other sin that a man commits is outside the body, but the immoral man sins against his own body. Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body. 1 Corinthians 6:17-20

 

This passage sets up a two-fold view of our bodies:

1 – There is a sense in which our bodies have dignity and we can disgrace them by acts of sexual sin (“the immoral man sins against his own body”), so arguments for purity that involve a sense of self-respect and dignity are actually, in my opinion, rather appropriate according to this verse. But…

2 – The strongest point to be made in this passage, however, is not that we sin against ourselves, but, if we are Christians, that we sin against the very purpose for which we have been rescued by Christ—to be a set-apart vessel, a temple for the Holy Spirit. Sexual sin is clearly at odds with glorifying God in our bodies, because our bodies are not ultimately ours, but the Lord’s, for Him to fill and abide. What could be more dignifying than that?!?

In my study of these passages, among others, I don’t see God holding out any carrots in order to twist our arms into sexual purity. There isn’t any bait-and-switch, as if God were to say, “Do this and you will be happy, healthy, whatever you want—but eventually I’ll tell you that I really I just want you to glorify Me.” God’s word is actually quite straightforward. If these passages tell us anything, they tell us that purity isn’t about us, it’s about God.

So to those who are young and wondering if sticking it out for the long haul is worth it: yes, it is. Not because it will ensure “your best life”—now or later—but because it is God’s good will for you and it pleases and honors Him. The commitment to set apart your body for God’s service will be a testimony to a world that His ways are better than theirs and that you are willing to wait for God’s good gifts in His good time.

To those who are not so young anymore and wondering if marriage and family will ever happen for them or if they will have lived a life of purity “for nothing”: take heart, it is not for nothing. It is for God and for your eternal delight in Him far above anything else. This will speak volumes of the value of your God above anything this world can offer. It may be a hard and lonely road, and it may be that you don’t see a reward for it in this lifetime, but “God is not unjust so as to forget your work and the love which you have shown to His name” (Hebrews 6:10).

To those who have not lived a life of purity and wonder if they can somehow make up for their sins: no, you can’t. But Jesus already did. He died for sin—for all kinds of sin, including the most perverse and unfaithful. Look to the cross, cast your cares on Jesus, believing He died for your sin and rose from the dead. He lives now to intercede for all who trust Him. So trust Him. And dig into what God’s word says about how to live with a goal of pleasing Him—and walk now in purity because the death of Jesus has made you clean and His Holy Spirit gives you new life.

To those who are married and think that the pursuit of purity is behind them: it’s not. Purity is just as important in marriage as it is when single. The goal is still the same—to glorify God with our bodies—only, in marriage, this includes both nurturing our relationship with our spouse and guarding our minds and bodies from temptation to sin. The fight isn’t over; it just looks a little different.

And finally, to those who think that their commitment to purity before marriage has let them down: it was never meant to be the key to temporal happiness anyway, though it certainly can contribute to it. If you’re a Christian, purity wasn’t ultimately about you at all, but about God. Try not to be resentful towards those who may have misled you into believing the whole point was to be healthy and happy—they probably meant the best for you. Instead of looking back in resentment, open up God’s word to see more of what He has to say about it. If your attitude has been sinful, selfish, or self-righteous, repent. Jesus died for those things, too. And don’t let go of purity—just recognize it isn’t an end in itself or a means to merely temporal ends. It is a part of living life to the glory and enjoyment of God.

I have, of course, only barely scratched the surface when it comes to what the Bible says about sexual purity, nor have I even really shared my own experience in the matter, but I hope that I have at least demonstrated the central purpose for the Christian’s call to purity, which is the very purpose for life itself: to love and glorify our Creator God. If I have as my greatest aim something other than that, my lifelong commitment to purity will quite likely be fraught with disappointment. Because, after all, purity isn’t for me.

 

Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father. Colossians 3:17

 

Amen.

The Grace of Grape Tomatoes

29 Monday Dec 2014

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

clumsy me, devotional, grape tomatoes as a means of grace, grocery shopping, He Remains Faithful, Jesus, love, meditations, motherhood, weaknesses revealed

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

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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Tags

asking the wrong question, blessed are the poor in spirit, devotional, humility, Jesus, Let it go, Love God, Love Others, meditations, Rich Young Ruler, self-righteousness, that evasive Jesus

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.

He Remains Faithful

11 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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Tags

devotional, faithfulness, Great is Thy Faithfulness, He Remains Faithful, Jesus, meditations, seasons

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!
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Lauren Scott

Lauren Scott

Christian. Wife. Mother. Homemaker. Home Educator. Blogger. Book Addict. Outdoorist.

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