Category: faith

In Job

After 10 days of wading through his “pushing it” moments, his “right on target moments” and his friends’ “poor theology” moments in Job, it was such a breath of fresh air to read God’s response this morning. There was no need to decipher or question and try to figure out the real message behind the Words. It was a clear-cut humbling as God explained only a fraction of his Omniscience and Omnipotence. Whenever you need a pride kicker, fellow Older brothers of the Prodigal son (I’m speaking to myself here too), jump into chapter 38 and 39 of Job. It’s just not possible to leave those chapters feeling mighty.

Yet what a great God that even in our righteous indignation moments, He stoops down to correct us because we have the privilege of being His kids.

The Privilege.

He doesn’t need us.

He wants us.

“Slightly off’ in so many moments, ‘a little too prideful’ in so many moments, sinful and ‘battling out this flesh and Spirit” us.

What a privilege to be His.

– Thanks for the reminder in Job.

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Pure and Undefiled

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” James 1:27

 

I love this verse and I hate this verse.

This verse nails me to the floor every time.

My husband did a great, God inspired, job of preaching a sermon on this verse many months ago (maybe even a year ago now). It was one of those sermons I haven’t been able to shake from my head. One of those sermons that revisit me periodically to poke… and push… and chisel away at me, that I would look more like Christ.

I love this verse so much… and my flesh hates it so.

Widows, orphans. I want to make those the cute little people in Hallmark worlds, so far removed from us. Annie, the classic redheaded example of an orphan. And then pictures begin flashing through my head.

See, this verse uses these terms in their specific contexts of literal widows and orphans, but it also applies beyond the fatherless and the spouseless. It refers to the “least of these”. The filthy. The “left for dead”. The abandoned by society and the world. The hated. The devastated by culture and community. The utter and completely undesirable.

And it’s meditating on this verse that draws the pictures of those hostages in the brothels, and their captors. Those walking the shores half-naked after a tsunami. Those faces I have seen of children and families trapped in poverty all around the world. Those rendered useless because they are too disabled to hold a job. Those penned as mentally unstable, and therefore are wandering the streets.

And my flesh cries out, “I don’t want to go there!”

“I don’t want to sit down in the filth and the pain and the destruction! I don’t want to walk a mile with that burden I’m called to help carry.”

But then the Spirit within me reminds me of my own filth. My own utter desolation and destruction without Christ and even my own ugliness when I operate in my flesh while IN Christ.

The filthy rags of the orphan and the widow still smell putrid.  The hurts are still real. And deep. And there are still so many unanswerable questions. And sitting beside the girl on the brothel floor may not remove her from the brothel. But is Christ still Beautiful in a brothel?

“PURE and UNDEFILED religion”

Oh there are certainly times I wish God didn’t define work with widows and orphans as “pure and undefiled religion” and yet He has opened my eyes. He has given me His heart. Even though I so don’t deserve it.

See, religion is and can be pure and undefiled when I am not in it. When it’s not about me. When it’s all about Christ.

See, my flesh doesn’t want to “visit”, which in its context is not talking about a one-time affair but instead is referring to a “living with” or “traveling with” affair – a “walking alongside” and “carrying their burden” kind of visit. Yeah, my flesh doesn’t want to visit… so I have to leave it at the door to accomplish this command.

I am forced to shed my desires, my wants, my reservations, my discomforts and instead put fully on the robe of Christ. Maybe, just maybe that’s what Christ was referring to when He said “If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you…” (John 15:7). Maybe that’s what it means to let His Words abide in me. Let Him abide in us…

Oh that He would even stoop down and find me desirable – not in any way needed for His mission – but desirable to be a vessel of His unconditional love.

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” (James 1:27)

It nails me every time.

 

 

“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.” Galatians 2:20

 

 

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Losing

I absolutely LOVE this song. Now I’m one that can’t dance. And the bounce looks nothing but foolish running through my veins, but this song… oh people, this song puts a little rhythm in my step that I pray never leaves.

I do not believe that you can lose your salvation. You see, if you can lose your salvation that there is something out there stronger than Christ. If you can lose your salvation, then the cross did not overcome ALL. The Savior is not ALL-Sufficient if he cannot hold you for eternity through salvation. See where this poses a problem? Take it to Scripture, WHOLE Scripture, and decide for yourself.

That being said, there is a Daily, minutely, every second battle for our minds. We can either be focused on Christ OR ourselves. NOT BOTH. Oh, friends, this one is so hard. See, I want to glorify myself. That’s what the flesh does. It begs distraction from Christ. But the Spirit within us, oh that beautiful Spirit that Christ implanted within us when we fell to the very raw of ourselves begging for forgiveness of sin… that Spirit directs us to the Father. That He would receive glory from my words, my actions, my thoughts, and my everything.

It’s so easy to become tempted. Lead astray. And this song reminds me that it is a fight worth fighting, CONSTANTLY fighting. No, my salvation in Christ is not in question, but my fruitfulness in Christ IS constantly combatted. For if I can be distracted, hindered or swayed from walking a faithful walk in Christ, then through my testimony others can be equally turned off to Christ.

No, no one’s perfect, dear friends. But we can accomplish NOTHING of eternal value without showing up for the fight, armed in the Word.

So today. In this exact moment. I don’t want to lose my soul to this world’s distractions. Here on this side of the cross, I don’t want to gain this world’s values and lose my soul. MY SOUL!

We all have to come to that choice, be it here in this world or when we meet Christ face to face and have run out of time to choose. And it is my prayer that my life, my walk and my faith would push others to ponder Christ. And I pray lead them to His feet.

Please, Lord, in this moment and every moment help me. Please, help me to focus on your world view. Your eternal thoughts. And Your Kingdom above all that I see before me. It IS such a challenge that I will surely fail without falling at your feet. I must decrease that You may increase.

 

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The Medium of Homeschooling

We’re getting ready to start the homeschooling season again. We have taken the longest break ever from directed teaching due to the boys arrival being mashed in with summer. We moved from more focused academics to more play and discovery. But I have to be honest, I’m really excited to start back into a more directed study time.

Big Guy started school last week so that forced us to become more regulated and routined. Honestly, I am really happy about that. I love Big Guy, but the entire dynamic and hyperactivity level of this household takes a shift back into our discovery norms when he’s at school. Our days kind of slow down and become more natural feeling to me. It becomes less about burning a kid out and more about discovering our world together. I feel more calm because there are more opportunities for quiet in our household and for this introvert that is really important to me. Odd that four kids can feel quiet, but it really is true – especially during the babies’ morning naps. Things allot themselves more naturally to sit-down teaching in the morning and hands-on learning in the afternoon.

But one of the things I look most forward to during this school year is returning to reading. Reading a book on my own. Our missions reading before nap times. Oh our snuggling reading on the couch has stayed consistent throughout the summer, but just the calm of enjoying a good read – that I look forward to so much.

It was nearly impossible to instill missions reading over the summer, sadly. Big Guy’s attention span is very, very short. And reading to the girls before nap time always left Big Guy out since sitting in the hallway between the boys and girls’ rooms rocking my nurser created a very fussy nurser that I nearly had to yell over to read. Yeah… less calming.

Rachael actually leapt for joy when I returned to my rocking chair with a missions book in hand at nap time. “YEAH! Mommy’s going to read missions novels to us again!” She couldn’t contain herself. I love that she remembers that about me. I love that she, at such a young age, is already enjoying longer chapter books. And I have noticed that since I stopped reading to the girls at nap time, my Abi’s vocabulary hasn’t built as quickly… and her annunciation just flat-out needs work. Funny but reading aloud to her will help a lot with those things as she is more accustomed to broad vocabulary and listens to my sounding out foreign city names.

But really, even if it had no educational piece to it…. I just love sharing that time with them. I love talking about what God has done in and through people. I love learning, myself! And it’s also a helpful gauge for telling if Rachael is ready to transition from naps. If she can stay awake for the full chapter, then she may not need a nap that day. See, reading has MANY benefits. 😉

I’ve decided to begin homeschooling after Hannah’s first birthday. Summer has been a little hectic and draining, quite honestly, despite the large amount of fun as well. So I’d like to feel ready. I’d like to include Rachael and Abi in decorating the homeschool wall. I’d like to solicit their ownership of their portfolios this year, decorating the cover and putting the dividers in. I’d like to settle into a routine of reading and more consistent morning naps for the babies and in many ways healing from a wonderful, but long summer of greater demands on me for the enjoyment of the kids. I’d like to read ahead in our curriculum, get hyped up and have everything settled really nicely before day 1. And the beauty of homeschooling is… we can do that. We can afford to start our school year whenever we’re ready. Truly ready.

I love homeschooling. It’s a passion of mine. No it’s not for everyone. Yes, it’s draining, but the investment is really an utter delight. I LOVE sitting beside my children and soaking in their worlds. I love discovering life with them. I love hearing the Scriptures return without void. I love praying over their math problems, piano lessons, and puzzle play. I just love doing life with them. And I love knowing precisely what they are learning, from the books to the social interactions to the Scripture. No, it’s not for the purpose of controlling them. It’s for the purpose of training a child in the way they should go… that God would bless their paths to be more straight. I just love being a missionary to my kids. Oh and I pray that light would overcome their darkness, in turn allowing them to be light to the world and sisters in Christ.

So thanks be to God, for this season of preparation. Preparation of our minds and our hearts and our souls for all that He will teach us this year

through the medium of homeschooling.

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13.1

I was asked once what the cure for laziness is.

Hard work.

No really, hear me out. The complete opposite of laziness is working your butt off. So want to overcome your idleness? Pray and work hard.

A friend put up a little status update on Facebook a while back. She was biting off a big one… the Air Force half marathon. I instantly remembered my triathlon training days.

Matt and I have made it a point to place health as a priority in our household. Almost everyone takes vitamins, we try to eat balanced meals, proper portions (which goes an awful long way), be careful how much soda we drink (we don’t usually keep it in the house or buy it at restaurants). But health goes beyond just eating and drinking. We try to provide the opportunity for enough sleep (sometimes it works better than other times), knowing that a lot of our impulse eating choices has to do with a weakened self-control filter, a byproduct of minimal sleep. But then there also comes the active lifestyle piece.

We decided to try to get some 5k’s on the calendar yearly. Realistically with past pregnancies and little kids in the household doing a jogging stroller friendly event is a must. We don’t mind walking during the more “full with child” times of pregnancy, but maintaining activity and exercise in our lifestyle is important in being ready to go and do all that the Lord has for us.

Then I saw my friend’s update. I reminded Matt of my bucket-list desire. We talked it over and within 48 hours we purchased our registration spots.

That’s right… we signed up for the airforce half marathon. 13.1 miles of pain.

My goal: Survival. And no walking. It doesn’t matter how slow I jog… there will be no walking.

Matt’s goal: keeping my slow pace.

I think he’s going to have to work harder than me since his stride is almost twice of mine.

But our training looks different from most. See, when I trained for the triathlon I was not married, and certainly no kids. I stepped back from social groups a bit and found myself running and biking (canoeing wasn’t available. I did that for the first time on race day) in almost all of my spare time. I found a plan online that took me from the couch to a triathlon in 2 months, and did it for 4 months.

Today, well look to the sidebar, friends… *ahem* there’s a bit more riding on my shoulders.

So training for us looks like running at 6am. Or at 9 or 10p when the kids are sleeping. Sometimes it’s cramming in a cardio workout (thank you p90x pain) with a baby on your hip. Or taking turns stretching with a baby teething on our legs.

See, we don’t believe our family should take the back seat. Oh they certainly have to make some sacrifices sometimes because Mommy and Daddy are some seriously smelly people after running on a Sunday afternoon. But we really don’t think our fitness should be at the expense of our children. So we try hard to meet the training needs while also guarding our time with the kiddos and each other.

It’s been going decently… you know, as decently as being dragged from the tailpipe of a car… over shards of glass. But we’re rolling with it. In all honesty I think I have recently made a breakthrough. The utter and complete pain after mile 1 has subdued to a, ironically, comfortable pain that I barely notice any more… well until the next hill comes. I honestly hit a point in my running yesterday that I thought I could go on for so much further than the run’s end. And I hit a lung maturity where I actually stopped breathing out of my mouth (don’t judge) and breathed out of my nose with my fly trap shut for a whole block. I don’t expect that to ever happen again, but it was nice.

We’ll hit the halfway mark this Sunday before Matt leaves for another week of youth ministry. Then I’ll have to run alone. Or, sniff, use the treadmill of death.

I’ve been told by a few people since starting this endeavor that they could not find the motivation to push themselves into exercise. I totally agree. That’s why we were speedy to pay our registration. Cause now we’re stuck. We are running come race day, ready or not. That motivates me to get out there in the heat (sometimes) and the rain (sometimes) and the bugs (all the time). I used to joke that it’s a pride thing now… how ugly am I going to look when I cross the finish line. But it’s really a Spirit verses flesh thing. Christ. Will. Overcome. I believe I can do all things through Christ. Now it’s time to strap my belief into my running shoes.

I am no runner, people. My left knee does not like me. I look like I’ve been hit by a car at running intervals and I feel like it for most of the first and last mile. And my face doesn’t stop looking like a tomato for hours after my run. But I am confident that hard work for Christ and calling on Him in my time of need (during every run) has brought my flesh into greater control than I could ever do from the couch.

In Christ Alone… 13.1.

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That I AM

Matt and I were chatting yesterday after church. The babies were down for their naps a bit early. The older kids finishing a movie that helped me get ready for church earlier that morning.

He said it so clearly. Articulated with such wisdom.

We were mulling over why we Christians get in such funks. Satisfied with mediocre faith. Church attendance only. Going through the motions. We’ve all been there, but the conversation can’t just stop there. Else we run the risk of taking up residency there.

We’d landed that being challenged is certainly a key factor. But we don’t challenge ourselves. I’m certainly not going to push myself out of myself. We need someone else. Someone full of the Holy Spirit. Jesus speaking through someone.

And he hit it right on the head. We need someone to say, “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if God wants that for you?”

You know, I’ve found in other peoples’ support a similar theme arise. The “that’s good for your family” theme. You know, it’s as if orphan care is a sole calling of my family. Or a few families. And their call is something else.

I used to think like that. Nursery care was my calling. You do the other stuff. Senior adult care is for you. Or those rowdy youth. Or crazy VBS kids. In fact, I’ll just fold the bulletins and sharpen the pencils. You mediate the funding argument. You pray for the terminally ill child.

Once He moved me past that phase I started praying for the terminally ill. Those with the life sentence and the failing lungs. Those that would most likely never get well. Those that went to see Jesus before I said my “amen”. Prayer became more than a “give me” fest. Prayer with it’s mystery slowly became comfortable. And the ‘no’s felt a little less stinging.

I started to pray for those missionaries I will never meet. The ones giving their lives overseas. The ones being tortured. I started reading some accounts. Those martyrs. Those starving to death to feed the lost. Prayers felt like portals. Intercession felt more alive. The mystery not so uncomfortable and unstable.

And suddenly my living room became a throne-room. Falling at His feet. Crying over injustice. Hurting for the aborted. Those who lost their life before taking a breath. Those stuck in sexual trafficking. Those little children lost in slavery. Doing sickening crimes. My stomach started churning. Such hurt. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. My prayer life had pushed me there. God was unveiling how much He wanted the lost and dying world… even when they’re still in their sin.

World Vision became an opportunity. An opportunity to be faceless and yet still foster Hope.

The orphan suddenly expanded to the helpless, the lost, the estranged, and the poor. The widow suddenly expanded into the hopeless, the stuck, and the ugliest least. The swept under the rug. The forgotten.

That’s what brought me to “my” boys. That’s what will bring you to “yours”.

It had nothing to do with comfort. It had nothing to do with ease. Or thrill. Or some kind of higher purpose.

It had everything to do with obedience.

When your Father calls. You say “here, I am, Lord. Send me.”

You don’t ask how much it’ll cost. You don’t weigh the heartache.

You don’t offer an alternative plan.

When you hear His voice. You RUN to meet Him.

It’s easy to get lost. I am not for foster care. I AM for Christ.

And He has brought me to fostering.

It would not have been my choice. I am not designed for fostering. I am not designed for mothering. I am designed for worship. And I worship through obedience.

He equips. He constructs. He ignites. He sustains. He recollects. And He rebuilds.

And it is through His love that I feel compelled.

Compelled to reach out to the orphan. Compelled to love the neighbor. Even when it’s not convenient. And when it’s frustrating. And when I just want to be “our family” without someone else calling the shots. Even when I just want to get away from always asking for help. Even when I want to be selfish and just hold my babies. Even when I’m jealous and don’t want him thinking so fondly of his mother when I know the choices she is knowingly making. Even when I am prideful and want to the world to acknowledge my struggle. Even when I want to hide because I don’t want exposed the worse version of my tired, undone self. I am compelled to run to the darkness. The Light cannot be contained.

I don’t have to fear losing myself. I AM.

I don’t have to fear walking a narrow path. I AM.

I don’t have to fear losing these boys. I AM.

I don’t have to fear never sleeping again. I AM.

I don’t have to fear life feeling disrupted. I AM.

It’s not my life to live.

It was crucified on the cross.

… And yet I live.

I Live.

Truly LIVE.

Not I but Christ that lives within me.

And I can do all things through Christ who gives me the strength that I need.

The strength that I need daily!

To daily set myself aside and say, “Yes, Lord. I choose to obey today.”

I don’t know what today holds. But I AM.

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