rain, rain, go away…

May 27, 2015 — Leave a comment

The rain here in Houston just keeps coming. Yesterday, school was cancelled as sections of major highways were submerged in water. My children spent the morning wanting to watch the news. They were enthralled by the extreme nature and power of the water, the drama of high-water rescues caught on tape, the tragedy of cars being swept away in the floods, and the science of meteorological forecasts. Our hearts ache for those in Wimberley, San Marcos, and Houston. Those who have lost much in the wake of such abundant rainfall.

This morning, a sideways downpour met us as we raced to the car for school. It’s ironic that yesterday when multiple school districts were closed, we had dry patches of back porch. This morning, as we drove to school, we were pelted by torrential rains.

How odd is the abundance of a good thing. Rain becomes flood. Hydration becomes destruction. Sugar turns to fat. Wine becomes alcoholism. Appetite shifts to gluttony. Money fuels greed. Job provision develops into family neglect. Ministry births idolatry.

How odd also when the abundance of a good thing has been present, yet the back porch seems dry. There have been entire seasons when others around me are drowning in the same blessings being poured out on me, yet all I see is dry bones. Perception can be quite the deception. Have you ever been so blind to a plethora of grace-filled showers that you actually pray for the rain to go away? We, who are so small compared to the vastness of the universe and the Being who by a single word bore all we know and see…we who think we know, but have no clue. We think we can define blessing and curse, based on the wisdom drawn from the state of our comforts or the lack thereof. What if that which was brutally irritating provided a path to the deepest peace? What if that which depleted earthly provision sanctified and produced the fullest satisfaction?

I’ve written before of God’s abundant grace and how we never arrive at a place where we render it useless. It is free, unending, and always available, whether we seek it out or not. We are covered by its huge umbrella of acceptance, that knows no distinction and can’t be held by our good works. This I know. However, as I mentioned above, there is so much that I do not know, understand, or comprehend. If there is one thing that I will never have enough of, it’s God’s perspective. It is the one thing that won’t turn in on itself: Godly wisdom. For to see the world and our circumstances through God’s eyes requires humility, compassion, justice, and a servant heart. Idolatry defies God’s perspective. He detests the worship of anything other than Himself.

I want this: His perspective. With it, there is nothing to fear, nothing to solve, nothing that can steal my joy or His throne. How do I find it? Unlike grace, Scripture tells me that wisdom requires a bit of my action:

“Blessed is the one who finds wisdom, and the one who gets understanding” (Proverbs 3:13).

“The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom, and whatever you get, get insight” (Proverbs 4:7).

The Hebrew word “qə·nêh” is used in these verses for “get”. The same word is used when Scripture talks about buying or acquiring land. It is a word of action, involving sacrifice or payment. Do I really want to “get” wisdom? What if it costs something of sacrifice? What if it’s price is uncomfortable?

Proverbs 9:10 also explains that, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.” Maybe today the price to be paid is accepting the fact that I am small, finite, and foolish compared to the size, longevity, and wisdom of God. Maybe today, I simply stand in awe of Him, this world He created, the power of the raging water before me. In recognizing my smallness and His largeness, I will begin to “get” some wisdom with the sacrifice of my pride.

I want to shout, “rain, rain, go away…”. Yet, I will watch in awe, and submit that I don’t know the condition and needs of my own back porch. And I will let Jesus and His compassion overtake me as I see the needs of others unfold.

I continue to pray for those who are meeting disaster and destruction head on. Please pray with me. If you are able to financially help or donate goods, please visit ADRN (Austin Disaster Relief Network) which is gathering funds to help those in Wimberley and San Marcos, not only with their physical needs, but spiritual and emotional as well.

Spitting Surrender…

May 20, 2015 — Leave a comment

In the past 24 hours, I have been spat at more than anytime in my life. My oldest three children love the taste of amoxicillin, so much so, that they are usually jealous of whoever has the ear infection or strep. But this child #4 will have none of it. He starts spitting before I even get the first little squirt from the syringe down the inside of his cheek. And then, to top it off, he laughs after every time he spatters pink goo into my face.

My carpet, clothes, and comforter are spotted with the sticky substance. Remember in Steel Magnolias, when Sally Field’s character describes the church at her daughter’s wedding, “Looks like the place has been hosed down with Pepto Bismol…”? That’s my house right now.

The funny thing is that I know he likes the taste. When we are done with one dose, he immediately asks for more. Turkey. But when it’s time to administer the next round of meds, he reverts to spitting. I also know that it’s making him feel better. He is full of energy now (of course he is, now that I’m wiped out by the same cold).

He willfully rejects that which is sweet and healing. Hmmm…sounds familiar.

Confession time: Ever since my string of Lenten posts, I’ve had a really hard time engaging in the Word. Quiet time, devotions, prayer journaling…all of it has gone by the wayside. I’m not really even sure why. The routine of daily applying scripture and acknowledging blessing was so good and fruitful. Why is it that now I keep “spitting” at the idea? For some reason, I’ve been rejecting that which is sweet and healing. It’s a form of rejection because the prospect of sitting down with my Bible for even a quick Psalm has crossed my mind, and I’ve simply disregarded it.

I’ll do it later. Tomorrow. If I feel up for it.

Perhaps it’s time to implement routine. I don’t feel like it, but maybe I need to walk in obedience. If my doctor tells me I need to start exercising 3 times a week to lower my weight and cholesterol, whether I feel like it or not, I need to follow his recommendation. If God tells me to abide in His Word, then I probably should, even the pages of my Bible seem to weigh a ton. Like any regiment that’s good for us, it takes a few days of fatigue and soreness before we hit our stride. Daily studying God’s Word is no different. I’ve gotten off my rhythm, and it’s time to head back to the spiritual gym.

So here’s some stretching to ease back into it:

My soul clings to the dust;
give me life according to your word!
When I told of my ways, you answered me;
teach me your statutes!
Make me understand the way of your precepts,
and I will meditate on your wondrous works.
My soul melts away for sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word!
Put false ways far from me
and graciously teach me your law!
I have chosen the way of faithfulness;
I set your rules before me.
I cling to your testimonies, O Lord;
let me not be put to shame!
I will run in the way of your commandments
when you enlarge my heart! (Psalm 119:25-32)

When I think about Judah spitting his medicine back in my face, I mind less the mess, and more the boy. I believe that God, in His gracious and loving role as Father, is also more concerned with us and our health, than anything else. He doesn’t need our obedience. He is bigger than that. But He knows we need Him and His Word. In the same way that I delight in my son when He finally sucks down the antibiotics, God delights in my surrender. He rejoices and sings a song over me, even if I’ve been spitting along the way.

bountiful within the blah…

May 13, 2015 — Leave a comment

This morning I turned to this verse: “I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me” (Psalm 13:6).

I live in a world full of stuff. Advertisements tell me I need every last bit of it, too. I rarely feel as though I’ve been dealt with ‘bountifully’.

But, here are the facts: I have been dealt with bountifully, even if it’s hard for me to comprehend.

As I type, I’m watching my Judah play on an exercise mat. He’s munching on his goldfish, trying to grind the crumbs into the plastic with his bare feet. He’s got a saggy diaper…again. He’s calling our puppy over to eat the crumbs, making a “kissing” sound with his lips.

Life is bountiful with crumbs, mischief, and soggy diapers. I just told our congregation on Mother’s Day morning, as a part of a Mom’s Panel, that it is a struggle as a stay-at-home mom to have a sense of meaningful identity, value, and worth. The difficulty comes in moments like this…when the floor is covered by yellow cracker shrapnel…when I am attempting to focus on something greater than the fact that my son is now sharing his cup of water with the dog. When these are the endless details of my day I feel as though my days are useless. I can’t even finish forming a thought before the next mess is made or the next disaster needs to be averted. Feelings of bountifulness seem to only revolve around frustration…not blessing. I’m not even considering bountiful blessings.

Have you ever been poked repeatedly? In the same spot? It can become numbing, not only to that particular area of the skin, but to all the senses. This is how detainees are tortured! Loud intrusive sound, constant touch and pricking…if it’s used to break even the strongest of secret spies, than imagine what it can do to an already tired mom! This is what happens to people who stay at home with young children. Our emotional senses and mental processes are poked repeatedly throughout the day, that a coma is induced. Introspection and spiritual growth seem as confounding and impossible as waking the dead. Good judgment and resolve go out the window.

I think much of my anxiety about sounding dull or stupid among small groups of adults was birthed out of this motherhood zombie state. I can feel as though I have nothing worthwhile to share with other adults because I am not reading insightful articles or engaging in philosophical conversation throughout the day…I don’t even have the news on, just SuperWhy. It greatly effects my view of self. Hot topics and relevant adult conversation fly over my head. (And rarely, do a group of adults find the value in being able to sing every PBS kids show theme song.) I can lose my identity in the mundane repetition of diaper changing and household duties. I rarely do anything by myself, including going to the bathroom! And I do my best thinking when I am alone. It can feel as though we, as care-takers, fade into the background, void of individual talents or unique perspective.

I daily need to re-identify myself with Jesus–who He is, and therefore, who He says I am. It’s a struggle, especially, when all my faculties of thought and insight seem to have left the building 11 years ago. However, it’s necessary for me to realize my value and worth. I am a priceless treasure to God, with a unique perspective of His love and grace, because I am not relying on the success of my own talents throughout the day. I have to remember He has good things for me, even in the goldfish crumbs.

As I look at my two-year old and focus on the goodness of God, I see less crumbs and more cute: His white-blond hair as it flips behind his ears. His sparkling blue eyes. His huge smile as the puppy eats goldfish from his hands. He isn’t focusing on the magnitude of his soggy diaper situation. He’s focusing on all that is good. What an example of thankfulness and joy, of magnifying the good, not the bad.

He has just brought me a single goldfish. “Aaahhh,” he says to me. “Mama- Aahhh.” I can choose to focus on the meek and meager size of the snack, perhaps spend time questioning wether or not it’s been licked by the pet. OR, I can choose to partake and savor the cracker, because it is a gift. It seems small and insufficient. It will take concentration from a weak and spent heart and mind. This is the true task of the day. The blessing is there, though…it’s in the palm of my hand.

Jesus, help me see you in every part of my day. Help me to find the sufficient in the scant. The satisfactory in the sparse. The bountiful in the bare. Amen.

5 tips for Mother’s Day gifts…

May 9, 2015 — Leave a comment

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. I have mixed feelings about the holiday. Sure, I’m a mom and love that there’s a day on the calendar in honor of mothers. It is wonderful to be appreciated for all the hard work and sacrifices we’ve made on account of raising children. But for me, expectations can run high and get the best of me. Consequently, my high emotional hopes on this annual celebration rarely happen the way I fantisize and I end the day disappointed. For all you kids and spouses out there who are searching for the perfect last-minute Mother’s Day gift, here are 5 tips:

1) No gift can ever appreciate your wife/mom enough. There is no fancy diamond bracelet or spa treatment that will cancel the years of late night exhaustion, erase the interrupted showers, or relieve the worry of a mom. (I’d love to receive a day of pampering, don’t misunderstand…hint, hint) However, instead of searching for the perfect gift, or perhaps along with your gift, let her know how invaluable Mom is to you and how irreplaceable she is. As moms, we often feel as if our cleaning, cooking, nose-wiping, and diaper-changing are routine tasks that any human, regardless of skill or gifting, could accomplish. It’s incredibly rejuvenating to know that though anybody could get the job done, others recognize that our actions are a choice done out of love, and that our presence is meaningful and important.

2) Don’t get frustrated when you ask her what she wants to do tomorrow and she doesn’t know. As mothers, we have been conditioned through childrearing that our desires and needs come second. I have no idea what restaurant I want to go to for lunch. I have forgotten what good food even tastes like. I think I like Italian food, or Mexican, maybe? I honestly don’t remember. Over the past 11 years, it has become more important to me to keep the peace and make meals-on-the-go easy outings. I often pick McDonald’s, Chick-Fil-A, or pizza, just to prevent the kids from screaming. Mother’s Day is no different. In fact, if my kids complain about the food, even if I have before me a margarita and some quality queso, guilt of selfishness will consume me. Mothers usually just want everyone to be happy. Do whatever results in the least amount of tears for lunch and make her a margarita after the kids go to bed. 🙂

3) Don’t buy her an iwatch. As a mother of four kids, I already have 4 “I-watches”. They watch me change. They watch me go to the bathroom. They watch my every move. They remind me I haven’t made their morning chocolate milk yet, I haven’t washed their favorite shirt yet, and that they still don’t like Mexican food. I don’t need another thing physically assaulting my wrist throughout the day, interrupting my own personal thoughts. I’d rather receive some personal uninterrupted face-to-face time with some girlfriends or my spouse. I’d love to have an evening where doctor’s appointments, school projects, the chore schedule, and planning activities are OFF the table of conversation. (This would also be an appropriate time for a margarita) 🙂

4) Remind her of who she is. As a mother, one of biggest struggles I have faced has been identifying myself as “only” a mother. I remember coming home from the hospital with my first baby and my husband asking me, “Do you need anything, Momma?” I nearly flipped over the table. I didn’t want to be called ‘Momma’. My name was ‘Angie’. I was scared that who I was (rather, who I thought I was) would be lost forever in the craziness of motherhood. And to some degree, I was right. But, God has taught me more about who I really am through the service of parenthood. It is true, that many of my interests and gifts have been overshadowed and neglected by a house full of children who need my attention. But, I am learning to rest more in the identity that has and will always be mine. I am a daughter to the King, chosen, beloved, worth more than fine treasure, and forgiven. My talents and abilities make me unique, but Jesus makes me special and valuable. Remind the mother in your life of this! Give her the gift of some time or resources to re-engage with her unique talents. Yet, remind her of who she is in Jesus. She needs to know that even if she doesn’t paint, or write, or sing, or garden–or whatever she is great at–for the next 15 years, it doesn’t de-value her or make her fade into the background.

5) Pray for her. Cover her in prayer. Audibly. Out loud. In front of her. Even if you are uncomfortable doing so…ESPECIALLY if you are uncomfortable. She will cry. I guarantee it. Thank Jesus for her. Ask God to sustain her. Ask Father to tend to her heart, to meet her every need. Ask for forgiveness for the times you’ve not appreciated her. Ask the Spirit to fill her and equip her. Being a mom, or let’s face it–a human–is hard. None of us can do it on our own. No matter what role or title we acquire (mom, grandma, single-mom, childless, business woman, doctor, accountant, etc…), we all need Jesus–His grace, His mercy, and His love.

He is the best gift.

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.”

Romans 3:23-24

Flying through a Jungle of Pride…

April 30, 2015 — 1 Comment

Last week, I was in full “let’s-try-to-be-a-super-mom” mode. You’d think, by now, I would know it just ain’t possible. But, yet, I try. Along the way, (usually when I start to feel I am way in over my head with paint projects, Pinterest craftiness, or sewing catastrophes) I realize just how far I’ve gone into unrealistic super-hero status. I start down a quaint and inviting path of creativity that eventually leads me into a jungle full of prowling lions of self-criticism, mocking monkeys of comparison, and howling hyenas of stress.

When will I learn?

My most recent illusion of grandeur began with a trip to the WWII Commemorative Air Show with my three boys. (Yes, you added right, the hubs counted as a boy that day.) Gideon was in awe of the planes and propellers, and of course, all the big guns. So, when the soon-to-be birthday boy, who for the last two years has celebrated with an Easter Bunny Pirate Party (don’t ask), requested to have planes instead, I jumped at the fresh idea. However, when I asked more details about his desires, I soon realized I was already further into the jungle than I thought. Not only did he want to have a WWII plane themed party, but he also wanted the Easter Bunny Pirate character to return, including Easter egg bombs and a Pirate treasure hunt adventure. Mercy.

So I took plenty pictures of the B-17 Flying Fortress from multiple angles, mentally planning how the metal beast could be replicated with edible sweets.

Over. My. Head.

I took note of the bombers and where they sat and envisioned white chocolate pirate bunnies taking their positions with their chocolate guns.

Entering. The. Jungle.

I started perusing Pinterest for ideas.

Welcome. Jungle. Predators.

Why do I do this? Why do I submit myself to these crazy ideas and plans?

For a few reasons: 1) I like the challenge. I am by nature a person who likes to express herself creatively. It is how God made me. And as a stay-at-home mother of four, whose responsibilities outside the home have changed since our relocation, I rarely have the opportunity to fully unleash my creative juices. 2) I love my kids. My heart overflowed when I witnessed my little boy struck with awe as the gust of wind from old plane propellors swept the hat off his head. If I can create a birthday celebration that generates even half of that excitement, it’s worth it. 3) Pride. See, here’s the nasty thing about being halfway good at anything: we somehow in the back of our hearts think we can earn favor or worth by being awesome at something. Because somewhere in the process of doing the task or making the speech or singing the song, we give ourselves credit for the abilities we have to accomplish whatever it is.

Have we worked hard? Probably. Have we studied? Likely. Have we practiced? Yep.

I can’t speak for everybody, but here’s where I think I go wrong: I start to assume that the beginning inklings of talent or skill that were planted in me by God are even my own doing. Proverbs 16:18 says, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Maybe this is why the night before the party, the airplane cracked in half down the middle and crushed the cake beneath.) However, Psalm 139:13 corrects me: “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.” He is the source of any good found within me.

Just like my fondant covered B-17 would be nothing without that one initial flake of Rice Krispie’s Cereal with which it started, so is anything good that I can produce without the Father’s design: NOTHING. It is a challenge, however, to maintain that solid footing in a slippery and treacherous jungle of pride. We somehow become disillusioned with our size and strength, feeling either invincible under the shade of the thick green canopy, or fearful of becoming prey for the larger and fiercer wildlife. We forget who we are. The truth is we are small, yet equipped. We lack control over our destiny, yet are empowered. We are not our own, yet heirs to an entire Kingdom.

When I focus on who I can become with all my hard work and fine-tuning, I forget who I already am. When I strive to grow my talents for my own accolades and affirmations, I actually diminish in maturity. Ephesians 4:15 says, “Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.” Rather than aiming for personal praise, we are to grow up in EVERY way into him who is the head: JESUS. Whatever we do, it should be done to grow closer to Him. This doesn’t mean I stop challenging my creativity with icing and modeling chocolate. However, it does mean that when I find myself seeking the praise of others because of it, then I should stop. If I am discouraged because my efforts or talents aren’t appreciated, then I need to glory in the joy the process brought me, and give thanks that Jesus gave me the desire for and enjoyment in such a task. To consider that He loves me enough to give me joy in such things…that draws me to Him!

Yeah…I’m not very good at that thinking either. But like all areas in which we seek to better ourselves, He is the source and genesis for all of our development, growth, and maturity. A more fervent trust in Him, greater satisfaction in His favor, and authentic humility in our hearts all start with a little flake of Holy Spirit planted in our inmost being. Like a mustard seed, it can be small, but He nourishes it and cultivates it into a great tree of beauty.

I’ve got more lofty projects underway, especially this week. And as I enter a time of intense focus, my prayer is this:

Jesus, may I end this week where I started in the womb, owing all my value, worth, and purpose to you. May I always be established in You. “For [Your] invisible attributes, namely, [Your] eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. [Including me.] So [I am] without excuse. For although [I have known] God, [I] did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but [I} became futile in [my} thinking, and [my] foolish heart [was] darkened. Claiming to be wise, [I] became [a] fool. (Romans 1:20-22)” Please forgive me and help me to walk forward in newness of life, recalling who I am because of You… only You. Produce good fruit in me that brings glory to Your namesake.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

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ANGIE GOEKE

Life After Rehab