Whispers? Really?

11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

1 Kings 19:11-13 New International Version (NIV)

I have loved this passage since I became a believer. I just loved the story of God not being a violent, loud, destructive voice, but rather a gentle whisper. 

But I hope this is a safe place to say that since becoming a mother, my view of this passage has become a little jaded. Why? Because I’m not sure I can always hear God’s gentle whisper above my boys making gun noises while playing “Battle Turtles.” My life is loud.

So here’s the truth: God and I have been having a conversation. I trust that God is not a manipulative or game-playing guy. I trust that He wants my heart, and when He has a message for me, He wants me to hear it. And I affirm that God’s Spirit is living within me and working in my life. But when I had 4 kids age 6 and under, it wasn’t always as quiet as being “on a mountain in the presence of the Lord.” So I told God that I trust that He is going to speak clearly to me in a way that I could hear. And I’m at peace with that. 

I don’t think He’s going to whisper the secret of life to someone and say, “Ha! You missed it! You don’t get to hear from God because you were distracted by your toddler’s temper tantrum.” That just doesn’t sound like the God I know. The God I know speaks in whispers, but we also see God communicate through thunder and fire and dreams and healings and wine and music and mud and electrons and miracles and babies and bread. He creates galaxies with his spoken word. I think He can figure out how to speak to me in a way I can hear.

Certainly, I love it when I get quiet space to be in the presence of the Lord, especially if it’s on a mountain. I cherish those times. And now that my kids are all in elementary school I get that much more often. But I believe the gospel is for all people– even moms of toddlers. And I believe that God wants to proclaim His message. Which is good. Because I want to hear it. 

P.S. Battle Turtles is a game in which you put a laundry basket on your back and pretend to be a turtle. Typically the turtle-brothers want to battle each other, so you can hide under your turtle-shell-laundry-basket in a defensive mode, or you can run around holding the basket to your back in offensive mode making gun noises and chasing your turtle-brother. 

I’m Not Sure How to Pray

More and more often I don’t go to prayer to ask for healing, blessing, or intercession. More and more often I’m going to prayer to hear from God. To hear his affirmations of his love for me, or to hear a specific message, or to get clarity on his direction on a decision. And even more so, more and more often I just want to sit with Jesus and feel his closeness. I care less and less about prayer requests. Not that I don’t pray for my loved ones, but I am less and less sure that I have any idea of how a particular situation should unfold, and I’m not in relationship with God for the benefit it brings me. Rather, I’m just wanting to be in connection with Him. More and more I’m surrendering to God’s ways, and wondering how I can help others surrender and find comfort in that surrender. 

Of course, when someone close to my heart is struggling, I still beg God to make their way easier. But I’m learning that what I want for myself or another may not be God’s best. And I certainly don’t want to be asking for God to give anything less than his best. So I struggle with prayer requests and intercession. Because Im just not sure what to ask for. And I know that the Bible is clear that we can intercede on behalf of another and that God honors our repeated requests. But I’m starting to see that my prayers for people are much more focused on spiritual growth than praying for specific circumstances. 

I just don’t know if God wants you to have the job you’re interviewing for. I just don’t know if it’s best for your grandmother to be able to stay in her home instead of going to Assisted Living. I don’t know if your child passing 2nd grade is the best thing, or if him repeating a grade is part of God’s mysterious plan for him. I’d really like you to have a safe trip and strong relationships with your in-laws, but I don’t really know how that should come about. I truly hate that you’re sick, and I’m so glad that we’ll all be healthy in heaven, and I know that Jesus loved to heal, but I also know that sometimes God allows suffering, and works through our pain, and it’s all pretty confusing to me, and I’m going to trust that God knows better than I do. I am pretty sure that God wants you to be patient and loving, and I’m sure that being close to God will give you peace. So I tend to pray those things. Whatever your circumstances are, I want you to be walking with Christ; with His spirit within you and His love shining through you. That’s my desire for you. The rest I’m not so sure about. But I know that wholehearted living comes from being intimate and honest with God and people, and that you are loved beyond what you can imagine and that gives you worth. And the depths of my heart wants you to lean into that love. 

And when my 6-week old baby was in the Emergency Room at the Children’s Hospital struggling to breath, I knew that probably everyone assumed we were soliciting God for his life. And I knew others were praying for his health. But Brent and I both had a strong sense that asking God to spare his life was not what the Spirit was leading us to do. And honestly? Neither of us prayed for God to give us our baby back. Without talking to each other, Brent and I both had experiences of surrendering our Baby to God. Neither of us were sure that his survival was God’s will. And each of us told God that was ok, and we both felt pretty nauseaus. Brent faced the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, and he was quite sure that God was asking him to have the same willingness. And I could see, almost like a vision, the veil of death and felt the strong reality that death isn’t final and our baby dying was not the end of his existence, and him being on the other side of that veil wasn’t really so terrible. I also told God that I would surrender my child if God asked that of me.

Looking back on it, it seems strange but also not. We were asked to surrender instead of petition. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very grateful that our baby is now a flourishing 7-year old. But there was a moment in that ER where it was quite clear to me that he isn’t mine.

I don’t know what to pray for, but I do know how to pray. Your will be done. Your kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. For sure, I don’t hardly ever know what God’s will is, and I certainly don’t know what God’s kingdom looks like or how to make it “come” to earth. But I know what it feels like to surrender to God. And when I get a chance to come alongside God’s Spirit bringing the Kingdom to earth, I want to join in. So those are my prayers. Surrender. Love. Give. Do what God is doing. 

Annoying Kids? Or Depleted Mom?

Some days the kids just seem so extra super annoying. Am I right? What is wrong with them? Did they have too much sugar or caffine? Not sleep enough? Did they secretly band together to ruin my day?

I suppose it’s possible, but after a few years of having these supremely awful days every so often, I had a realization. My kids are actually not really any more or less annoying on any given day. The only thing that really changes in this equation is me.  What changes is that my attitude and ability to offer patience and love diminishes on some days.  It took me a while to realize what was different about these awful days. And it wasn’t the kids. The bad days are the days that I’m depleted. I’ve neglected caring for my own needs. I’m left lacking in every single Fruit of the Spirit. I’m not loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, good, fathful, gentle, or full of self-control. That equates to a cranky Mommy.  If the kids seem extra intolerable, it is far more likely that I haven’t slept well, or I have some unmet emotional/spiritual/physical needs that I haven’t cared for.

In fact, I now use my kids’ annoying-ness as more of a barometer of my own self-care. If the kids are really bugging me, I know it’s time to look at myself. What unmet needs are pulling me down? Do I need some alone time? Prayer? A date night? A cry? Am I hungry? Do I need an early bedtime? Do I need help with housework? Time in nature? Or do I need deper self-care, like therapy, spiritual direction, or intercessory prayer? Or perhaps I need a major life change?

In general, I’ve started to treat myself like a toddler. If I have no patience for a schedule change, or I am crying over little things, or I am throwing a temper tantrum…. I probably need snuggles or food or alone time or sleep. #toddlerlife.  Or I need therapy, prayer, or some life coaching.

But of course, sometimes the kids really do have a bad day. It happens. They have needs too. The child in question probably needs a nap, or perhaps a snack. They need you. So make sure you’re ready.

Christian Parenting: More than a handout

When you’ve worked in Children’s Ministry for all of about 3 minutes, you start to wonder How can we encourage parents to influence their children’s spirituality? From my experience it seems pretty clear that the traditional method of giving parents some sort of written resource to use at home is not the assistance parents are craving. Whether it is a take-home review sheet, a family devotion, a magazine, a website or book, it is just not very helpful or useful.

Some families use a resource at home, but I find that they typically like to select their own resources. But that’s not really the issue. Because really we’ve inadvertently veered off course from the original question. We asked How can we encourage parents to influence their children’s spirituality? And then we start looking for fabulous book-type resources that we can recommend. We’re making an assumption that a resource can equate to influence. And that’s flawed thinking.

But here’s the deal:

Parents already are the primary spiritual influence of their children’s faith development, whether or not they accept that role.

Think about it. When you consider what your early perceptions of God are, you immediately start to think about the messages you were taught from your parents and the role they played in your life. The truth is, you start to think about what type of person your mom or dad was. Did they teach you that you had to earn approval and love through working hard or succeeding academically? Did they seem to never have time for you? Were they quick to forgive, or did they write shame messages about your identity? Did they struggle with an addiction and put you in a caretaking role? Were you victimized and left feeling unsafe? Did you feel protected and cared for? Did you learn that keeping the peace was what was needed of you? Did you feel safe and nurtured? These messages quickly turn into our views of God, and rewriting them is part of our spiritual growth.

So now, it’s our turn. We are the parents. And we can read our kids a devotional and take them to church (and that’s great), but the true impact of our parenting is going to be How Jesus has transformed our lives. Because our kids see more clearly than probably anyone what our character is, how we deal with our flaws and how we are loving the world around us. The best thing we can do for our kids is to let them see that Jesus is working in us to make us more loving, more generous, more forgiving and more patient. Our kids need to see that we are pursuing Him. That we fail sometimes, and in our failure we turn toward God, not away. Let your kids see that you are striving after Jesus and figuring out how to love people. Talk about these things “when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” (Deut 6:7-9). This is so much harder than reading a couple paragraphs to your kids. This will take courage and vulnerability and time and energy.

I’m not saying that resources aren’t a great thing. And I hope you’re reading scripture with your children. But don’t forget that your kids need to see “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Col. 1:27) This hope is what they crave, and seeing Christ in you, will make Jesus something they trust and crave.

The Motherhood Lie

The basics of parenting are somewhat easy to figure out. You should feed and clothe your kids. You should provide a home for them. You should love them. When they are infants it is so very difficult because #nosleep and #hormones, but it is mostly clear what Baby needs. It is an exhausting and difficult season. And if you’re there, let me know because I will bring you a casserole and hold Baby so you can take a shower.

But the worst part isn’t the lack of sleep or the hormones, it’s that there’s this lie gurgling in your gut. Most moms hear this lie within days of becoming a parent, if not earlier. The lie whispers “You aren’t enough.” Soon enough this lie grows louder and louder until it is deafening. Listening to it may very well be the hardest part of Motherhood. It’s easy to let the lie become overwhelming. 

The lie has many voices. I can’t do this. All the bad in me will damage my child. Not good enough, not capable enough, not patient enough, not organized enough, not skinny enough, not beautiful enough, not smart enough, not accomplished enough, not old enough, not young enough, not creative enough. Not giving enough. I AM NOT ENOUGH

We think we aren’t enough because our kid will only eat white foods. Or because our kid stole a toy. Because breastfeeding was difficult or impossible. We aren’t enough because we work (or because we stay home). We aren’t enough because we can’t keep the house perfectly tidy. We aren’t enough because we can’t shed the last 10/20/30/more pounds from the pregnancy. We aren’t enough because our 3 year old doesn’t like to go to church. We aren’t enough because our kid came home with a note from the teacher. Or because our kid didn’t get into the gifted program. We aren’t enough because we can’t afford ballet lessons. We aren’t enough because…

Take a deep breath, Moms. 

God gave me a little gift before I became a mother. It’s a bit unique, so I’m going to share it with you. Before I had kids of my own, I worked as a Social Worker in a group home for foster children. I saw almost every sad situation you can imagine. Sexual abuse. Parents who choose drugs over their children’s welfare. Physical Abuse. Abandonment. Neglect. Every story was sacred in its own way. Every child coped with the pain in different ways. It was hard to be close to this pain. It was hard to hear these stories. These kids deserved so much more. It was an emotionally exhausting job with little appreciation. But it was one of the greatest gifts to my parenting journey. 

You see, when I hear the lie speak to me that “I am not enough” I think back to those children. When I hear the lie in my heart, I remind myself that those kids in foster care deserved a parent like me. That’s not me bragging. It’s just acknowledging that those children deserved a basic level of imperfect love and care, and I am more than able to provide “good-enough” parenting.  I’m not perfect, and my kids might end up in therapy to process me. But I’m enough. My mothering would be enough to give each of those foster children what they needed. Each of those kids deserved a mom who was willing to make sacrifices, was able to manage her past traumas without drugs, who didn’t gain control through violence or sex. A mom who cared for their basic needs of food, shelter and snuggles. A mom who shows up. 

To be clear, I’m no better than the moms whose children are in foster care. No mother chooses to not care well for her children. It is our basic desire. These moms are victims of the lie, too. These moms could be enough. Moms who have lost their children to the foster system are in their own suffering. They need our help. Please don’t ignore them, and certainly don’t hate them.

But if I’m enough of what those foster kids needed, then I’m enough to be a mom to my own children. I don’t need to believe the lie anymore. Not serving organic carrots, or any carrots, doesn’t make me a bad mom. Not taking my baby to Storytime at the library doesn’t qualify me as a failure. Yelling at my kids might be a mistake, but it doesn’t mean I’m not enough. I rarely know what advice to give my kids. I might not volunteer at the school often and I’m on my phone too much and I run out of energy and I just can’t keep up most days. But I am enough. 

But still I hear the lie most days. Especially when one of my children has a failure, another mom criticizes me or I’m fighting with my husband. But I’ve learned to recognize the lie. I see it coming. I can hear it crouching up behind me. Most of the time I can shoot down the lie before it gets to my heart. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I live in freedom. Some days I need a friend to speak truth over me. But some days I cry because I believe I’m not enough. But you know what? Believing the lie doesn’t make it true. Even when we believe the lie, it doesn’t mean that we aren’t enough. Even that is forgiven.

We aren’t perfect mothers, and we don’t have to be. There is just so.much.grace. Layers and layers and layers of grace. It washes down on us. It washes our hearts and it washes over our families. And that grace is enough.

You’re doing great, Moms. 

Settled At Home

I will settle them in their homes,”
    declares the Lord. (Hosea 11:11b)

Let’s not downplay the importance God gives to our home, being settled, and to claiming a land/space. God values the rootedness of home. He wants to give us a home and bring us to a literal and figurative place of feeling settled- a place that brings us peace and comfort. Ultimately, that place is found resting in God’s arms. But we are also given earthly places of comfort and safety.

This passage in Hosea begins with God speaking his love for the people of Israel in parental terms. He says

When Israel was a child, I loved him (Hosea 11:1)

but the people of Israel rebelled away from God, rejecting not just his laws but also the relationship with Him.

And then we read this heartbreaking account of our Father God speaking about his lost children:

It was I who taught Ephraim to walk,
taking them by the arms;
but they did not realize
it was I who healed them.
I led them with cords of human kindness,
with ties of love.
To them I was like one who lifts
a little child to the cheek,
and I bent down to feed them. (Hosea 11: 3-4)

Can’t you just hear how our Father misses his children? He’s always been there caring for us.  His love is not receiprocated. He’s being rejected. Can you imagine being the parent of a child that wanders away?

Then He gets real with His kids. We’ve all been there. Sometimes a bit of angry-parent is what our kids need to fall back in line. You might call it “losing your mind” with your kids. Sometimes we step across the line and need to apologize, but that’s not what happens in this passage. Sometimes it’s just a stern voice that straightens up the kids real quick. It’s not always bad. In fact, God nails it. He roars like a lion at his kids, and they tremble and shape right up. That cracks me up; I’ve been there.

They will follow the Lord;
he will roar like a lion.
When he roars,
his children will come trembling from the west. (vs. 10)

And something about God’s lion-roar gets their attention. We see the children respond. And then I love how this chapter ends.

They will come from Egypt,
trembling like sparrows,
from Assyria, fluttering like doves.
I will settle them in their homes,”
declares the Lord. (vs. 11)

The children come back to Dad. Our Father welcomes us back, and even “settles us in our homes.”

You know those awful days when it seems like your kids have misbehaved all day long and not listened to anything you’ve said???  We’ve all been there. The day may have included some lion-roaring at the kids. And then at the end of one of those truly awful days, have you ever just been able to forgive them for it all? Have you let all of the anger melt away, and allowed yourself to relish in the sweetness of tucking your child into bed? So has God. He settles us at home. He forgives all, and just tucks us in bed with a hug and a kiss. We can be “settled at home.”

Trust is Hard at Easter

Easter is always a strange experience for me. I’m not sure a lot of other Christians are going to resonate with this, but Easter is the time of year when I am most clearly face-to-face with my doubts about my faith. Everybody else is singing about victory in Jesus and hanging purple banners of royalty and there is so much “He is risen indeed.” But I’m over in the corner wondering if my faith is really enough to carry me through the real experiences of life. Metaphorically, that is. Literally, I am trying to keep my sons from taking off their dress shoes and throwing them at the pastor in the middle of the Easter service.

As Christians, we believe that Jesus actually was dead and then came back to life. It’s not some weird medical condition where Jesus was in a coma or just really sick or was a good actor. Historical evidence is clear about the fact that Jesus died on the cross. 

And then three days later He was alive. 

Ummmm….. why don’t we talk about how this is absurd?

But it’s a core tenant of our Christian faith, and I’d like to suggest that it’s the absurdity that makes Jesus worthy of worship. We can’t just skip over Friday and Saturday to Sunday’s celebration. Denying the magnitude of the situation doesn’t make this story seem more normal. It just makes our faith seem small. Jesus’s resurrection is only amazing because it is so improbable. 

Everything we know says the resurrection is impossible. Faith requires that we admit that logic has failed us. If we can explain it with logic and science, then we have reason, but not faith. I appreciate apologetics so very much, and I’m grateful for those who do the hard work of supporting our faith with evidence. But logic will come to an end. We will not be able to science our way through to belief. I wish i could. I’d so much rather be told scientific explanations for God and His work, and be able to trust in logic and reason. I’d rather understand God than trust God.

But faith. 

It would appear that God makes concerted effort to make sure that explanations and logic and science and brain power will make us appreciate Him, but will never be quite enough to prove to us that He is who He says He is, and He does what He says He does. It appears that God leaves a gap. A gap that requires faith to cross. He desires that we trust, admit lack of answers, surrender, die to self, and give up control. 

We’re not going to be sure. We can’t know everything. There will be mysteries and confusion and missing pieces. We’d like to believe that we have explanations and answers and confidence; that we have the right answers. We’d prefer a good solid “right answer” instead of having to admit that we have to trust that redemption will make all things new. We are asked to believe that the story isn’t over yet, and it has a good ending.

God is a God of trust-falls. He doesn’t want us to know; He wants us to trust. It would be great if God would explain Himself to us, mark out the path, show us the science, or prove to us why we can trust Him. I’d love for God to give us this safe, and scientifically validated, staircase to climb. But no, He asks us to just jump, trusting that He will catch us.

Let’s stop and pause to respect our doubts and uncertainties and lack of knowledge. If we don’t, we refuse to give our faith the space it needs to flex its muscles. Let’s admit that the resurrection is hard to believe. Let’s ask the hard questions about evil and suffering and failures. And let’s be ok with there not always being an immediate answer. Give God our doubts and uncertainties. Let’s talk about that gap. That gap is faith. 

I don’t think we’re supposed to know all the answers. The hardest of questions don’t have quick answers. But those are the questions we need to ask and ponder. There will always be a gap in our understanding. Our world is broken, and needs restoration. There’s a gap between what is and what should be. There’s a gap between what we question and what we understand. There’s a gap between how we want the world to work, and how it actually functions. The gap is real and it’s often ugly. The gap reminds us that we need an absurd solution. We need a resurrection.

I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief! (Mark 9:24)