My mom’s childhood church stories are some of the funniest.She is one of five kids and both of her
parents sang in the church choir, leaving the children to sit unattended during
the service. And with all that freedom they couldn't help themselves. They rolled up the
offering envelopes and pretended to smoke them like cigarettes, waited for a quiet moment to
ruffle the hymnal pages and slam the book shut and rolled marbles down the church aisle from the back of the sanctuary.My uncle and his friend licked the communion wafers and stick them to
their foreheads.It didn’t matter how
hard my grandparents glared from the choir loft or how bad the punishment was
when they got home.It’s a wonder that all five of them have grown up with a love of worship
and rightness with God!You would have
thought my grandparents would have thrown in the towel, but it was clearly more
than just good discipline practice at work.It was God’s grace.Somewhere, in
the midst of all those shenanigans, a seed was planted.God’s grace allowed it to grow.
I’m sharing this because this morning I grumbled at my child
during church.I wanted him to listen
and learn and appreciate, not draw on the
back of the bulletin and try to lay down in the pew.But somewhere inside my heart I felt the Lord
say, Be still.
Be still and know that
I am God.Be still and know that I am
faithful.And relax! Sew the seeds I’ve
given you and let my infinite grace do amazing things.
As our pastor, Lynda Zelenka, likes to say, Lord, put me aside. Put aside my pride and my prejudice.Put aside my weariness and my aggravation.Put aside the things that bind me to this
earth and let instead your glory shine through.Let your grace water the seeds we are so humbled to plant for you.Let your grace allow us to grow.
XOXO....Kelly
And, P.S., God's seed can't grow if you don't plant it in the first place. Get your kids to church. Get yourself to church!! Pass it on.
Zachary recently learned to swim and a ride a bike on his own, big milestones indeed! To celebrate he got a trip to Menchie's and picked out a new toy at Target. On the way home Blake announced that he couldn't wait for his next reward, which he intends to collect after learning to whistle. That's right. Whistling. Blake wasn't born without lips, so as I was trying to figure out why a feat such as whistling might be reward-worthy, my mind flashed to the image of this ribbon he recently won at a swim meet...
Yes, you're reading that right. It says 14th place. This ribbon might be cool if there were like 750 swimmers in the competition. I think there were 30. Someone, somewhere at the Acme Ribbon Company is planning a very exotic vacation right now from their fancy new sports car because they are making a KILLING on sporting awards.
It's not that I'm not proud of my kids. Did I squeal in delight when they first learned to sit up/crawl/walk? Of course. I've not seen a performance yet of Lowery Elementary's hit Kindergarten program "How Does Your Garden Grow?" that hasn't brought tears to my eyes. I'm just wondering if 14th place and rewards for whistling might be taking it a bit too far.
It's not that I'm a hugely competitive person. Ask me how many sports I played as a kid. I signed up for dance because of the recital costumes. When I learned you had to also dance in a recital I quit. And frankly I think there is way too much meanness in the world. We need to build each other up. We need to promote and protect the sanctity of life, the preciousness of God's creation.
But it can't come from a ribbon.
If we don't know that we are special, that our lives matter, no amount of frozen yogurt and sporting trophies are going to fix that. If we don't see ourselves as God sees us, beyond what any new car or house or cell phone or clothing label could possibly do for us, then we are sunk. And what hope do our kids have?
You matter. And not because of your job performance or place in society or athletic prowess or your ability to whistle the entire Battle Hymn of the Republic in four part harmony. You matter because you are God's creation, fearfully and wonderfully made, so treasured that He sent His only son to die on the cross that we would have life eternally with Him. The things that matter, the things that count have nothing to do with how fast you run, swim, walk or bike, how much money you make or the people you know. His glory is there for each one of us, that we might be the light of the world, the best kind of champion.
Saturday concluded my two oldest sons' first season on our neighborhood swim team. We have had so much fun on this new adventure, but let me just say we are tired!! Not that I didn't see this coming. When you sign up for an activity that requires 4 practices a week on top of everything else you have going on you know you're going to be tired. And so out came the lines....
"The lines" are little safeguards I put in place, promises I make to myself to keep my priorities on track and my joy intact. For example, I don't buy dyed bridesmaid shoes. I will lovingly stand beside any sister or friend in their wedding. I will have my hair done. I will buy the dress. But I will not pay $60 for uncomfortable dyed shoes. I'd rather be in a good mood on your wedding day.
I also don't buy baseball pants for t-ball games at the YMCA. When everyone on the team can make it through a season without crying (my kids included) we'll talk. Until then, no. I draw the line.
Some of my other lines include homemade baked goods (baking stresses me out), birthday presents that cost more than $20 (everyone has too much crap anyway), monogrammed sports shirts and buttons with my kids' faces on it (again with the crying....). It's not because I see anything wrong with this stuff, but life is short and, frankly, it's okay not to do everything. It's okay to draw a line, to say no thank you. It's okay to want to enjoy something without all the optional extra's getting in the way. And it's okay if your lines aren't the same as someone else's.
I read something recently about joy, the kind of pure, unfailing joy that comes from a life with Christ, that does not depend on our circumstances, but on our assurance in Him. Oh, how precious that joy is, how absolutely necessary it is to preserve it. There are so many things that cross our path, fill our days, rob our thoughts. But steal my joy? That's where I draw the line.
Like most kids, mine like to put their toes on the line every once in a while. You know, see what they can get away with before Kevin and I shut it down. For a good month it was burping and farting at the table. We started making them pay a fine every time they did it. Then it was trying to order Coke when we went out to eat. They didn't get very far with that one. And now it's the word "butt". I know, you should pick your battles with kids, but I can't stand hearing little kids say the word "butt". It sounds so crude. And, no, I don't care that there are worse words they could be saying. We don't let them get away with smacking each other on the face just because it's better than stabbing each other. So, anyway, no butts.
You should see their faces when one of them lets it slip out. They give me this sort of side look with raised eyebrows like they're daring me to get on to them. Which I do, of course. With soap.
But it can be hard to explain language choices to kids. Is the word offensive or is it just annoying? How come some jokes are okay sometimes but not others? How can it be that bad if everyone else is saying it? Oh, the devil is indeed in the details.
There's a Toby Mac song called "Speak Life", and when "because I said so" or "would you say that in front of Jesus?" doesn't work that's really the best way to sum it up.
Our words can be so powerful. Imagine if we used that power for good, to bring light and life to others. It's not really about whether something qualifies as a curse word or not. And, holy cow, it is NOT about freedom of speech. We always have a choice. Why make a bad one just because you can? No, it's about whether we are honoring God with what comes out of our mouths.
Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Show me the words that bring healing, that bring comfort, that bring life to your people. And when I am tempted to head another way, kindly put some soap in my mouth...... Amen.
My husband, Kevin, is one of those people that could talk to a fencepost. It's one of my favorite things about him, his instant ease with people. When we first started dating I was in awe that he could hang out with my family and not need me constantly at his side. So when the homeless man on the corner called out to him as he walked by, of course Kevin stopped to talk to him. After a few seconds of conversation the man asked Kevin if he was a Christian. "Yes," he said.
"I could tell," said the man. "I can tell by the way you're treating me. I've been sitting here all day and you are the first person that's bothered to make eye contact and talk with me."
St. Francis of Assisi said to preach the gospel at all times and use words only when necessary. I watched over 80 middle school students be Confirmed at our church yesterday morning. I think of all the things they've been learning over the last several months, the Bible verses they've memorized. Will it show? When they go to school this morning or step out into the sun this summer, will it show?
What about my own life? Does it show? I am living the will of God so rightly that I needn't even use words to explain it? Maybe some days, but probably not most days. If it had been me passing that man on the street I might have smiled. I might have said hello. I know I wouldn't have stopped to talk. And all of the goodness God could have shown that man through me would have stopped right there.
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God....For I am not seeking my own good, but the good of many, so that they may be saved. Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ." 1 Cor 10:31,33, 11:1.
Not a word today, God. Help me not to use a single world.
"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet as without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:15-16
Mercy comes in funny forms sometimes. Like on Wednesday this week when Zachary threw up in my newly cleaned van. Miraculously and mercifully it all landed on the floor mat, which was easy to take out and clean off. Does the great Lord in heaven have much larger, pressing issues to deal with than the direction of a 4-year-old's throw up? Probably so. But it was 6:30 in the evening, everyone was tired, everyone was hungry, Zachary felt awful. Whatever my need was in that moment, God's mercy met it. He who counts every sparrow also knows every hair on my head, and how much more valuable am I than a sparrow? (Luke 12:6-7). Nothing is overlooked in God's mercy.
And as such, this was one occasion where this tired mother of four did not have to pull the car over to scream and cry. This week.....
I prayed a lot before I started up this blog. I wanted it to be inspirational. I wanted it to be honest. I wanted, most of all, for it to be to God's glory. And so each time I come to the computer to write I ask for His blessing and His guidance in my words. I am very careful to avoid a soapbox, which is VERY hard. I want my words to come from a good place, not a spirited rant brought on by whoever cut me off in the Walmart parking lot this morning.
But this has not been one of those weeks. It's like every thought in my head has bloomed out of irritation. It all started with the license plate frame on the BMW in front of me in traffic Monday. "I'm not spoiled....I'm blessed." Oh, please. I hope it was custom-made and there's not in fact someone out there producing those in mass quantities so that more than one doofus can proudly display that message. Then there were pictures for swim team (no, I do not need a mock trophy with their pictures on it), someone wants money to monogram my son's YMCA shirt (NO!!), the book fair is selling toys (don't we have enough novelty erasers already?), a dozen ridiculous Facebook posts. Oh, great. Now there's something in my eye...
With hardly any effort, any one of these annoyances could have easily been turned into a preachy, judgmental excerpt on righteous living. But that's not why I'm here.
So, I take a deep breath. I visualize my sharp edges softening. I turn my heart once more to God and ask Him to enter in. He's more than willing to fight my battles for me, but not if I don't hand them over first.
"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written; 'For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.' No, in all things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present or the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:35-39
Don't let the license plate frame on the car in front of you take you away from God's glory today. It may seem like the devil is shouting for your attention and God's voice is only a whisper. Take a deep breath. A shout is not near as endurable as a whisper and certainly no where near as pleasant. Something to think about when you're getting ready to mount your own soapbox...
Ask Him to enter in. There's no other place He'd rather be.
