Family rehab

An abundance of Water

October 30, 2013 — Aside — 1 Comment

Life has been crazy!  There is just no other way to say it, and yet it feels so understated and overstated all at the same time.  The raccoon has had ear infection after ear infection.  Last week, I attended a worship conference and was out-of-pocket at home.  Our weekends have been packed with all kinds of stuff and so the school week has been more recovery time than school time.    I have to remind myself that’s one of the reasons we are in Family Rehab–to recover.

A few weeks ago, Paul and the kids planted some grass seed in the backyard.  We have been in this house for a year, and finally, we got around to planting some seeds in the dirt wasteland of our sad backyard.  As luck (or God) would have it, the next day after sowing the seed, it rained.  It rained twelve inches.  The backyard was a swamp and those seeds were now floating and riding the flash flood waters.  As the water receded over the next couple of days and the sun eventually dried things out, we were amazed to see where new bright green grass was growing–in the front yard, next to the street curb and even across the street!  I began to wonder if the water could have defied gravity by flowing uphill in some areas.  It was amazing.  Cullen Country can thank the Goeke’s for supplying the block with some new grass.

Now, in the backyard, there was only a little grass growing under the hammock.  There was still a lot of dirt after our seeds had been displaced by the storms.  So, Paul went back to the store and sent the kids back out to sow.  The bluish-green seed sprayed against the muddy dirt did not look very promising to me.  And would you know it?  The next day, it rained again.

Today, as I look outside the window into the backyard, I actually see more bright green grass than dusty dry earth.  The second rain was just enough to soak the seed and nourish it, rather than send it to the neighbors.  Thank goodness.  When that second round of rain hit, we were sure we had wasted more money on seed.

All of this has reminded me of the parable of the sower.  So I went to the book of Matthew and read it again for a quick refresher, and this time, there were a few things that stuck out to me.  When Jesus tells this parable, He is sitting in a boat close to the shore.  This is interesting to me to think about the scenery as He was talking.  It sounds similar to the scenery of my water-logged backyard–water everywhere, no grass, just sand and dirt.  Why in this seascape setting, does Jesus talk about sowing seeds?  He told many parables throughout the 3 years of His ministry and on many occasions His “lessons” were hands-on, or used the setting or situation He and His disciples were in. It’s at least interesting as I read the story now, in light of our floating seed that He told His parable in the abundance of water.  (Hold on to that thought.)

He goes on to tell how the sower scattered the seed on different types of soil–the path, rocky ground, thorns, and good soil.  The seeds didn’t thrive due to birds and the plants didn’t survive due to shallow soil, the scorching sun, or the choking weeds.  Nowhere does Jesus mention torrential downpour.  So, I start to think that there is no lesson to be learned from our deep-shade-grass-seed and our abundance of water.

Then it hit me–abundance of water.  The issue with our seed, was not a disparaging soil situation.  The issue with our seed was an abundance of water.  We have good soil in the backyard, and apparently in the front yard, across the street, and up the mounds of construction dirt nearby.  The seed was having no issue taking root, being eaten by woodland creatures, or being overrun by thorny bushes.  The seed was thriving–just in the wrong place!  Or, should I say, in the wrong place according to me.

God’s divine plan goes outside the fenced boundaries of my backyard goals and desires.  He has given me seed to plant–the story of His love.  He wants me to sow without discretion–to spill over with blue-green Gospel.  He doesn’t want me to worry about how much money has been spent on seed, because His supply is endless.  If I am faithful with the seed He provides,  He does the work of sending it where it should go.  On the floodwaters of His Holy Spirit, He carries anything that I have to offer, to the places and people He wants it to go.  There is a lot of good soil out there.  There are a lot of people with hearts that ache and yearn to be unconditionally loved.  The question for me, the lesson for me, is am I willing to let God take His Gospel where He wills it?

The seed we planted was genetically altered and manufactured to grow in deeply shaded areas like our backyard.  It was designed to grow where the sunshine is weak and light is scarce.  But, God moved that seed into the bright areas of the street, where there is virtually no shade, no cover.  I like to think that God has created me with specific talents and gifts–that I am created to sow seeds of His love in certain areas, using certain strengths and giftings that He has given me.  But, what if He wants to carry me somewhere else–somewhere I feel I am not made to grow–to thrive?  What if He wants to carry me across personal boundaries into areas that don’t provide cover from things that could potentially scorch me?  What if He wants me to be uncomfortable and away from my hammock of preference?

I am, after all, His little seed in a wide scattering of His people.  I am, after all, created not just with a genetic disposition towards certain styles of growth or purpose.  I am created with the overarching purpose to serve Him, to glorify Him, to sow seeds of the Gospel for Him.  I am created foremost, above all else, to love Him and seek Him.  We love because He first loved us.  And so, I love Him and the people around me, in response to all He has done for me.  I freely give Him my life, my devotion, my control.  I say “freely” not because it’s easy to do so, but because I don’t “owe” Him anything.  He gave His life for me not so that I would be indebted to Him to do what He wills.  He gave His life for me freely, and so I give all that I have to Him freely.

Even though it is hard to put aside my own plans for a lush backyard oasis, with a hammock, some shade, and the occasional margarita, I can trust that what He has for me, where He moves me with His Holy Spirit, comes from the same love that provided me with all that I currently have.  If He loves me enough to give up His heavenly oasis, to come to a dirt-filled wasteland, on my behalf, He loves me enough.  He gave up a heavenly throne, to be a king that was mocked and spit upon.  He gave up His righteousness, to die for my sinfulness.  He gave up so much of His divine giftings and talents for me.  All so I could have access to an abounding source of grace–a sower’s seed bag overflowing with grace.  There is so much that it can be spread over and over again, after sin-filled flood after flood, and take root in my heart time and time again.  His grace is unending.  His love unfailing.  His mercy everlasting.  If He wills through the waters of His Holy Spirit to push me up mounds of dirt, defying the laws of physics–my self-written laws and limitations of my personal capabilities–then I can remember that His grace is sufficient.  His provision to give me deep fertile soil will not go away.

Back to an abundance of water…(still holding that thought?)  He does not leave me.  In the same way that there was an abundance of water as He told the parable from that boat, and in the same way, that there was an abundance of rain on our drought-forsaken land, He pours an abundance of the Holy Spirit onto every situation.  He doesn’t command me to scatter seed and then turns His face from me.  He provides the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  It might be rocking my boat at times.  It might be carrying my plans down the street and out of my control.  But He doesn’t leave me.  His Spirit is not just an all-consuming force that changes my plans.  His Spirit allows new things to grow and thrive.  His Spirit provides direction for new paths and plans, that I would have never imagined on my own.

As Jesus was telling the crowds the parable of the sower, He sat in a boat that was floating on abundance.  Most likely, as the people listened to Him talking about seeds and thorns and dirt, they weren’t thinking about the need for water to make a seed grow.  But, we all know water is necessary in the process of seed germination.  Most likely, the people were not looking at Jesus on the water, and seeing the abundance that sat before them–the never-ending supply of salvation and restoration found in Jesus.  He was watering them with the “secrets of heaven”.  When the disciples asked Jesus why He spoke in parables, this was His answer:

“To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.  For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.  This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. ”

Not everyone in the crowd understood that Jesus indeed was their Savior.  Not everyone who saw Him in the boat that day, understood that right there, in front of them, was grace overflowing.  I don’t always see the water over the plans of my heart as grace abundant and provision of the Holy Spirit.  I don’t always get it.  I don’t always understand what Jesus is explaining and how He is moving.  But, occasionally, I do see that His overwhelming flood waters that stir up my backyard plans, are providing growth opportunities in unexpected areas.  I see the movement in His kingdom and the power of His love being revealed to people who don’t ever step foot into my backyard.  He doesn’t long for any of us to stay in the dark.  He wants us all to know Him and to receive the abundance that He has for us.  We all need Him.  We all need his unconditional love.  Whether we admit it or not, we all desire to understand it–to get it.

“Blessed are your eyes for they see, and your ears, for they hear.  Truly, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.  Hear then the parable of the sower:  When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart.  This is what was sown along the path.  As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away.  As for  what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful.  As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it.  He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

My prayer is that the seed of grace is firmly rooted in my heart, and in the hearts of those around me.  I pray that I don’t miss the abundance of grace that is flooding my world, no matter how far it scatters my plans.  I pray that I allow for the Holy Spirit to guide where the seeds I have been gifted with are planted, and that I willingly let them go where He wills.  I pray that I trust His provision and sufficiency, that no matter where I fall, He has the power to bear fruit in and through me.  I pray for those who are stuck on a path where the Truth is stolen from them.  I pray for those who are living with shallow roots and falling away because things are getting hard.  I pray for those who are living among the thorns of worldly success and striving for financial gain, because those things choke out the only thing that can really satisfy.  I pray that God sends His flood waters to move all the deeply shaded seed to good soil–that He nurture and feed and cause new life to grow in all of us.

headphones and the artist’s angst

October 16, 2013 — Aside — 1 Comment

Monday at lunch, the raccoon was up to his normal mischief.  When Paul rhetorically asked, “What are you going to be like when you are a teenager?  Are you going to drive too fast and always see what kind of trouble you can get in?”,  Ava didn’t miss a beat: “Or date too early!”  We laughed.  She said, “You know, he’ll be one of those teenage boys who dates too early and wears headphones for no reason…”  What a little social commentator we have!  Thank goodness, she’s got some wits about her!

Yesterday, we celebrated Columbus Day by searching for materials to use for our Texas Explorers unit.  The girls will be making their own Native American costumes.  They both have chosen to do their best to emulate the Karankawa Native Americans who lived on the coast of Texas along the Gulf of Mexico.  They also have both chosen the explorer, Cabeza de Vaca, to research.  (I think their decision to pick the same explorer is solely because Helen is trying to ride on the coat tails of Ava’s research.)  Their costumes will double as their Halloween costumes.  We are combining several areas of study: how to research, historical narratives, map making, art, and Texas History.  They will research Cabeza de Vaca and make a map of his journey to and in Texas.  They will gather some facts about his discoveries and his relationship with the Native Americans he met along the way.  They will then write a historical narrative that includes facts they have gathered, but is written from the perspective of their personal characterization of the Native Americans.  On Halloween, they will have a green button and a red button taped to their arm.  When someone presses the green button, they will start to recite their historical narrative.  When the red button is pushed, they stop, mid-sentence even.  (We are trying to make it as fun and silly as possible.)

We found imitation suede, leather, and feathers for the costumes, and we bought some dowel rods for spears.  We also bought some raffia to weave some baskets.  On our field trip last month to the Bob Bullock Museum, the girls had noticed all of the baskets in the Karankawa exhibit.  They thought it would be neat to weave their own and then have it to collect all their Halloween candy.  Yesterday, when we came home from the store, we went to work weaving their baskets.

Now let me tell you, raffia is thin and it has the tendency to split.  Making a basket that is woven tight enough to hold candy was dang near impossible.  We spent all day on this project.  Raffia was all over the floor and we spent the majority of the time wrestling it away from the raccoon and the cat.  We didn’t really have a plan, and so we created as we went.

This is usually how I function.  I cook this way.  I clean this way.  I paint this way.  I mold clay this way.  I sew this way.  For those who always use a cookbook, a system, a template, a model, or a pattern–I’m sorry.  I know that people like me make people like you uncomfortable.  When people with a plan see people like me pull out the paints without drawing an outline in pencil first, they wince.  When people with a plan see people like me add more salt and then scan the contents of the refrigerator for something else to add to the pot, they usually speed dial the nearest pizza delivery.  When people with a plan see people like me whip out the scissors to a yard of freshly bought fabric just laying on the table, they usually say a prayer.  When the shape of the painted bird wing is too long, when the sauce is too thin, and the armhole too large, I improvise.  I get creative.

So yesterday, when the raffia was too thin, the weave of the basket too loose, and the circumference of the bottom too small, we got creative.   As I watched Ava and Helen chuckle at the baskets as they appeared more and more haphazard, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Just wait.  We’re not done yet.  You’ll see.  It’s gonna be something.  I don’t know what, but something!”  And as we mutually twisted and tucked, pushed and pulled, the baskets began to take on more shape, more form, and more strength.  After we finished our attempt to just miraculously weave Native American baskets without guidance or directions, we happened to find ourselves with some pretty realistic and authentic woven goods despite our lack of premeditation.

photo

What was intended to hold candy, will now hold spears for Helen.  For Ava, she will just have to also carry an extra bag for when the contents of her candy basket overflows.  At least my seemingly foolish unplanned projects result in something.  At least there is more purpose to them than wearing headphones that aren’t plugged into anything.

I like to think of my lack of directions, recipes, and preparation as a necessity for an artist.  I rarely find joy in following a pattern.  But when I can hold up a dress that I made from scratch, knowing all the pain that it took to get there, all the dresses that ended up in the scrap bin along the way, there is such an overwhelming satisfaction.  I’ve been told that if I just followed a pattern I could avoid so much of the frustration, so much of the waste.  If I just started with a pencil, I could avoid all the crumpled up paper in the basket…I’m killing trees after all!  But to me, it’s not waste or trash, rather it’s all valuable trial and error that holds irreplaceable lessons. The angst of solving the problem is like completing a puzzle without looking at the picture on the box: I believe there is no other way to live life!

If ever there was an artist, none could argue with the magnificent art of God.  From beautiful sunsets to animals that are so colorful and abstract they hardly seem real, He created them all from scratch.  I like to think that God is working His artistry in and through us as well.  He might not sit down at his craft table with a bag of limp raffia and start haphazardly weaving a Native American basket for Halloween candy.  But- I think he sits down with a limp me every morning.  He stretches out my frazzled ends and lays me out next to a bunch of other messed up people and starts to weave us together.  Through out the day he wraps and winds together our seemingly stray and loose ends into something that looks to us rather haphazard and misshapen.  Months and years sometime pass as He continues to work more and more people, experiences, and places into His great masterpiece.  I would argue, that while God knows everything and knows the end result, He is an artist who works in redefining ways with those of us who resist staying in the weave.  He has angst over those of us who have colored outside the lines, not with disappointment, but as an artist, who finds a new, creative way to adjust the painting.

Right now, I have days where I know without a doubt I am acting like that darn piece of raffia.  I come to the craft table too thin, too weak, to wily.  I refuse to follow God’s plan.  I push against the weaving of his giant loom.  I try to control the paintbrush and end up spilling the water over everything.  But, the artist that He is–He blots the dripping water and reshapes the running colors.  He gently tucks and pulls on my stubborn straw-like nature, and I start to take shape, have more form, and have more strength.  He reassures me, “Just wait.”  While things look haphazard and down-right ridiculous in my world right now, He’s not done yet.  One day, I will see.  He’s doing something.  He’s making something.  He’s got a plan.  He may not be using a pattern, or sketching lightly in pencil first.  He is wandering through the pantry and the spice rack looking for something to excite and dazzle the senses.  He’s an artist.  I am so thankful that He is the potter and I am the clay.  I appreciate the angst and the tension He has over me, as He works out the kinks and chuckles at what is becoming of me and my plans.  He delights in me, His creation.  I am excited to see what He does, where some of the crazy paths before me will lead.  I pray I can continue to hand over control.  I pray that I stop trying to draft a pattern for Him, stop suggesting more salt, and stop looking over his shoulder as He works His magic artistry.

I pray that I stop wearing spiritual headphones on my ears that are plugged into silent pockets of nothingness.  I pray that I stop acting as if I’ve got His plan in there, and that I am tuned in, when really I am just ignoring all that is going on around me.  I want to be more aware, more keen to His great tapestry.  I am engulfed in it.  It is all around me.  From where I am, if I keep my eyes up, and not worry about how odd or ridiculous I might look, I might catch a glimpse of the Great Creator overhead smiling and working all things out for my good.  I might realize that my spiritual headphones actually have a purpose when they are plugged into the sounds and movements of the Holy Spirit instead of my static-filled expectations.  I can stop being uncomfortable like those who have observed me going straight to the wall with a hammer and nail without measuring first.

I can trust the ultimate artist.  Who am I kidding?  I don’t find joy in following a pattern.  And while it may take less time to do so, I’d miss the satisfaction at the end.  So, why can I not give that creative freedom to God?   Go on, God!   Put together the puzzle of my life without looking at the picture on the box.  When You put the last piece in, I will be ready to stand back and marvel at what you have put together.  I wouldn’t want to live life any other way!

To Those Who Wait

October 8, 2013 — Leave a comment

I have found a theme song for “family rehab.”  The words of To Those Who Wait by Bethany Dillon seem to sum up the plea of our sanctioned Family Rehab.  Everything from the laid-back and slow tempo, to the crazy time signature of the verses, to the resolution of meter felt in the chorus seems to resonate with my heart.  If I was technologically savvy, I would attach a link to the song so you could hear it…but well, the lyrics will have to do for now:

I am waiting on You,
I’m waiting on You.
You say You’re good to those who wait.My heart’s discouraged,
So I come to You expectant.
You say You’re good to those who wait.Lord, today You know what I need to do,
But You can do more in my waiting than in my doing I could do.
So I won’t run anymore.
I’m waiting on You.

Oh, wretched man that I am!
Free me from my distractions.
You say You’re good to those who wait.

Then confession and repentance
Find me in the quiet.
You say You’re good to those who wait.
Now I know You’re good to those who wait.

Lord, today You know what I need to do,
But You can do more in my waiting than in my doing I could do.
So I won’t run anymore.
I’m waiting on You.

Oh, my soul,
Wait on the Lord.
Keep your lamp filled with oil.
Oh, my soul,
Be not deceived!
Wait for Him.
Don’t be quick to leave.

Lord, today You know what I need to do,
But You can do more in my waiting than in my doing I could do.
So I won’t run anymore.
I’m waiting on You.

I’ve had to remember that we are taking this time to slow d-o-w-n.  This past weekend we were super busy with ministry related things: a wedding rehearsal, a conference, the wedding, Sunday service, and a funeral.  It was non-stop.  Come Monday morning we were all tired and emotionally and physically done.  So I had to remind myself that taking Monday off from school was okay, and one of the reasons we are taking a different approach to school this year is that sometimes weekends just don’t exist for us.

Today, getting back to work went so smoothly.  I thought that if we had tried to do this yesterday, the results would have been catastrophic.  Today we had another breakthrough in math for Helen.  She has been just storming through concept after concept, really mastering each new step.  She has been so proud of her progress, and I, too, am have been proud of her.  Today we worked on subtracting two-digit numbers from other two-digit numbers.  Trying to understand that you can steal a ‘ten’ from the ‘tens’ column when you don’t have a large enough number in the ‘ones’ column tested her abstract mathematical mind.  But she got it!  Pretty soon she was ‘renaming’ all those numbers in the ‘ones’ column and subtracting with no problem whatsoever.  (It may have helped that we sang a little math genius diddy after every problem and downed a few M&Ms.)

Ava is also doing well in math, though the time she spends on it is still frustrating to her.  She is used to getting done with assignments in record time, but with more complex problems that require multiple steps, having to slow down makes her anxious.  She doesn’t like that each of her growing multiplication problems has more and more steps.  I tell her that with each one she gets closer to the answer.  I also tell her that each step is like a part of a secret code that unlocks the answer.  Following the code is a lot quicker than making tally marks for 376 X 45.  I mean, really, can you imagine all the paper and all the time used to count those little lines to figure out that answer?!  And then, you’d probably have to recount several times just to keep track of all those little chicken scratch markings.  That would be far more frustrating.  Despite my reasoning, it is still frustrating to her that her math isn’t just quick and easy anymore.  I think it’s a matter of growing up, right?  I wish life were still quick and easy. 🙂

Oh, Ava…we are so much alike.  The times when I am forced to slow down and wait, I can feel unproductive and anxious to get back to work on the next easy thing.  There are just some things in life that need to be pondered and drawn out.  There are just some life lessons that have multiple steps and each step has to be carefully and purposefully executed.  If only every life “assignment” could be simple one-digit addition.

What a good reminder to sit and wait on the Lord.  As the song says, God can do so much more in our waiting, than in our doing we can do–to trust that takes courage and surrender.  Surrendering all control, all anxiety, and all earthly wisdom and reason over to Jesus is a scary thing.  But in doing so, we are able to reach new understandings of abstract concepts, and in the process some of our desires and needs are renamed. My ‘lack of financial freedom’ is renamed to ‘freedom of time that would otherwise be taken by material things and their upkeep.’  My ‘pile of laundry’ is renamed to ‘mindlessly folding clothes, yet finding myself in the quietness of confession and repentance.’  My prayers for ‘a break and rest’ are renamed to prayers for ‘more oil in my lamp as I wait patiently on the Lord.’  Taking a slower pace and realizing that I’ve got lessons to learn, and that those lessons might take some time, puts me in a posture of receptivity and not in anxious doing.  I am thankful that God indeed does do more in my waiting than in my doing.  I don’t have to run anymore.  I don’t have to go, go, go.  I don’t have to keep up with the worldly standards of success and the schedule that will get me there.  I can slow down and trust that God is doing the work: all of it–the work on my heart, the work on my children, the work the kids are supposed to learn, and the work of renaming us daily as His treasured children of God.

Our bible verse for this week is Isaiah 41:10: “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  I think this verse describes some of the many things that God can do when I am waiting.  He can strengthen me, help me, uphold me.  When I am busy fearing or dismaying, I forget that I have a God who is with me, and who has promised to do so much for me.  I have to sit still long enough to let him do.  His quiet is more powerful than my noise.  His stillness more productive than my marathon.  His peace more satisfying than my attempts to rest or sleep.  There is such a good and gracious Father ready and willing to do so much for and to those who wait.  I pray that he renames my desire to be productive–that he transforms my inner wheel that spins uncontrollably.  I pray that He gives me oil in my lamp to wait on Him, and to not be quick to leave–that I may stay and sink into deeper understanding of his abstract and wonderful nature.  I pray for patience and stillness, especially for those times when my “breakthrough” seems to never come.   I pray that during this time of rehab, we learn to wait, not do…and that He truly is good to those who wait.

A Hand To The Face

October 8, 2013 — Leave a comment

I thought I would share our bible verse from last week and how we have started to practically apply it to real life situations.  I just walked up the stairs from trying our practicum on the children, and it actually had a positive impact for the first time. So, I thought I’d better share while it’s fresh and still true that it’s working.  (I better type fast!)

Last week our verse was, “We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19.  I had the girls draw a heart in their prayer journals.  In the middle of their heart they wrote their name.  Around the edge of the heart, they wrote the verse.  Then we talked about what it means.

Q: “Who loved us first?”

A: “God”

Q: “How did God love us?”

A: “He sent Jesus to die on the cross for us.”

So we drew a cross to the left of the heart with an arrow pointing to the heart.  Because God loved us, the arrow points from the cross to our hearts.  The love of God enters our hearts by way of the cross.

Q: “Because God loved us, what can we do?”

A: “Love others”

Then we drew some stick people to the right of the heart.  Again, we put an arrow in between the two to show that love flows from our heart to others.  When you trace back the path of the arrows, it all starts with Jesus and the cross.

Q: “So what is unique about the way that God loved us?”

A: “He gave up his Son”

Q: “What is unique about how Jesus loved us?”

A: “He gave up his life.  He died for us.”

So there was a “giving up” of something.  That’s called sacrifice.  God loved us with a “sacrificial love.”

Q: “So if the same love that starts with Jesus on the cross flows out of us onto others, how can we love others?”

A: “We can sacrifice for them.”Image

“Great discussion”, you say, “but how do you put that into practice…with children especially?”  Below is what we have been trying, and as of 10 minutes ago (and counting) it is working (well, once so far…)

Here is our plan:  When someone is yelling (usually in our house it’s “STOP!”), whether it be to stop kicking, singing, smacking, or generally stop being frustrating, the new rule is to hold up a hand to the face to accompany the “STOP!”  In our family, the “STOP” seems to be second nature and takes no training, so I decided to use that to my advantage.  Usually our yelling is self-seeking and is accompanied by name-calling.  Having the hand up reminds us all that we need to stop.  It doesn’t matter if we are the one doing the yelling or the name-calling, or the annoying, we all need to stop.  We need to think about our heart drawings in the prayer journals.  When a hand goes up, everyone should stop and say the verse together.  “We love because He first loved us.”  Then we have to pause and ask the questions: “How did Jesus love me?” ( He sacrificed for me.) “And how can I sacrifice for the other person right now?”  Our frustration and yelling and difficulty in loving each other usually arises when we are thinking more about what we want to get out of the relationship or situation than what we can give up for the other.  So, in an effort to retrain our first response in those situations, let’s ask ourselves not what I can get, but what can I give, remembering all the while that it is only because of Jesus that we have the capacity to love sacrificially.

Earlier I ran into the kitchen because I heard a cacophony of screaming and yelling and name-calling.  The kids were playing their own version of “town” or “life” where playing cards are used as currency and someone is manning the bank, the store, and the cafe.  Instead of joining in with my own self-righteous yelling and name-calling, I just held up the palm of my hand.  All three little hands went up and the room was silent.  I almost didn’t know what to do next, I was so shocked.  I started, “We love because…”  and they joined in.  (Oh, don’t screw this up, Angie!) I lead them through the simple explanation of how Jesus taught us sacrificial love and how that same love lives in us.  I asked, “how can we give up something right now in order to love one another?”  Helen, without hesitation said, “Here, Gideon, I will give you some of my money.”

GULP…it worked.  Without further thought, I ran upstairs and started typing.  I probably should have followed up with them more, but I was so encouraged and shocked that I didn’t think about that until now.  Honestly, in retrospect, I don’t even know if the money was the issue at the center of all the yelling.  I probably should have at least checked that much, but needless to say, as of yet, there still has been only happy play noises down there, so I don’t dare dig up old bones.  This moment is going on the “Count Your Blessings” board.  Hopefully, having a practical way to apply the gospel to those intense situations will stick.  My hope is that they will eventually start leading the way themselves by putting up a hand without me even being there.  Who knew a “hand to the face” could be such a gesture of sacrificial love?

Dedicated to the Realists

September 30, 2013 — 1 Comment

I attended a retreat this weekend and saw lots of friends that I just haven’t seen in either a year or more.  These sweet ladies of all ages are such a refreshment to my soul.  Their love of Jesus and the sacrifices that they have all made for the sake of the Gospel is inspiring.  Every year I look forward to spending a weekend with this “sisterhood” of women.

I sat with a very good friend who has four children of her own and is walking through the struggles that most moms of four children have–with the added component of homeschool.  She was tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed.  She commented on these blog posts of late and gently confessed that it was really hard to read most of my posts.  She found herself comparing her experiences with mine and leaving the computer screen discouraged because what I wrote about that day seemed to be on the other end of the homeschool experience spectrum from hers.  I love her so much for being honest and vulnerable with me.  I know she is reading this now, so thank you, my sweet friend.  I love you.  I told her the next post would provide a correct view of our family rehab experience so far.  Let’s be real… It has been hard.  It has been tiring.  It has been frustrating.  It has been very overwhelming.

I confess, I think that there is a discrepancy between the desperation I feel at different points of the day and the “positive spin” at the end of most of these blog entries.  It might appear that I’m not a realist.  That I’m not being honest about the overwhelming feelings of failure that can cripple me.  There is only one way to explain this–Jesus.  This blog has been the equivalent to an empty church pew for me.  Surrounded by quiet, I enter my time in front of the keyboard, with my bible in hand, the same way every time, much like I would kneel at the altar.  I enter not having any answers, not having any ideas, and only carrying the burden of the day, or the funny moment that stuck in my mind.

This blog has become the designated space and time of the day that I rest in thought at the feet of Jesus.  Often, I just start retelling my day, the high points and the low, and sometimes the mundane.  Somewhere along the way, as I process the day in letters, words, and sentences, the promises and themes of Jesus’ love and faithfulness rise to the surface of my mind.  They sit on my forehead between my wrinkled brows as I ponder and think about the day at a deeper level than if I hadn’t taken my seat in front of the sanctified computer screen.  For me, there is something about having to reflect on my day with such intentionality and persistence, in order to produce a 2 minute read, that seems very appropriate for “family rehab.”

I can’t describe it, but taking the intentional time to think through even the simplest of things or the most frustrating of circumstances, helps me shape my otherwise bland or disappointing day.  My day doesn’t differ from my friends’ day all that much.  The details might be different, but the struggles are still the same.  I am attacked with folly and failure every day.  I am attacked with frustration and fatigue every hour.  I am attacked with fear and fickleness towards this crazy “family rehab” every minute.   It’s the time that I spend in front of a blank, white and intimidating computer screen at the end of the day that helps me gain perspective.

The process of reflecting at the end of the day and intentionally writing down what comes to mind, forces out those truths that creep up from deep within my gut and get stuck in the middle of my brow.  They just sit there until the Spirit draws connections and distributes meaning.  Then things start to make sense… other scripture comes to mind… and the bible gets opened and the healing words of Jesus start to wash over all that angst and frustration that I wore on my shoulders when I sat in my empty-church-pew-repurposed-computer-chair.

Jesus says in John 16:13-14, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.  He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”  When those truths of scripture come to mind–the truths about my value resting in Jesus, the truths about my purpose resting in Jesus, the truths about my trust resting in Jesus–it is the Spirit of God, “the Helper”, Jesus calls him, that is doing exactly what Jesus promised he would do.  He guides me to the truth about my day.  He declares to me the things that are to come.  He gives me whispers that something special is happening in this intentional time of “family rehab.”  He reveals to me the glory of Jesus, reminding me of all that Jesus has done for my sake, His death in my place.  He takes what Jesus says His purpose is for me, His love is for me, His endless, love-filled, pursuit is for me, and declares it to me.

I cannot type the final period without coming to a place of rest in those truths each and every time I sit down at the computer.  I cannot press publish without coming to the end of my means for the day.  It might seem that I have a positive spin on even the most hair-pulling, tear-filled, unproductive day, but what is happening in these blog posts is the work of the Holy Spirit on my heart.  He comes and transforms my mind, heart, and soul.  He pulls me out of my emotions and reminds me of the reality of His love and my identity found in Him.  That’s why I type, I write, I meditate on His word.  That’s why I have a relationship with a God who is living, because He’s the only God that has power that is moving and touching the depths of my gut, heart, and wrinkled brow.

Being a Christian doesn’t mean you write a blog every night to process your thoughts and feelings.  But, it does mean you engage with a living, loving, and limitless God who seeks to bring joy and peace to every facet, every minute of your life.  Loving Him and seeking Him, whether in a church pew, in front of a computer screen, or in the depths of your still and quiet heart, changes things.  It changes everything.  It renews.  It refreshes.  It reveals that there is more to life than what the world offers. Having that kind of God, who sends a Helper into the depths of even the most frustrating or overwhelming of days, and turns it into a deeper, more meaningful exploration of who He is, makes faith a REAL, meaningful part of life.  It makes even me a realist.