Counting on Christ and Keeping Track

You should know I tried this ultra-natural ultra-moisturizing treatment on my hair. In my effort to get rid of all things scented, and not spend a fortune on hair products*, I read yet another article about the crazy miraculous benefits of coconut oil. So I did it. About 10 minutes before my shower I gently coated my hair with coconut oil. I let it sit, then washed it out. Then washed it again. And again.

I think I did something wrong, maybe? It took roughly 5 washings over 3 days to get all the oil out. During that time I shoved my head into a hat and called it good. One silver lining to having sick kids- I don't have to worry about facing the world with straight up greasy hair.

All this to say: I screw things up on a regular basis. And things bigger than tropical hair.

Which makes it tempting to play it safe. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Because I honestly live my life like a giant golf game. Unintentionally, I keep track. And the goal is to have the least amount of screw ups before getting it right. Failure hurts. Why oh why go through it unnecessarily? I look at my kids weekly, after another screw up, and go, "Hey look, I've never done this before."

It's true. I've never lived this day before, raised an almost 10 year old girl like my oldest, or raised any other kid like my other kids.

So the most tempting thing to do would be to tell myself to stop keeping track. I could tell you the same thing. Stop keeping track. Just live. There's only one problem. We can't seem to do it. Sure, some are better than others at it, but at some point do you ever look at something you've done or said, and think, "Really? Again?"

I am beginning to think there is a reason we keep track. God keeps track. For those in Christ, that doesn't have to be a scary thing. And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of  your flesh, God made alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This He set aside, nailing it to the cross. -Colossians 2:13-14

I believe the "keeping track" part of us is part of God's character in us. The distortion and sin comes in when we use it to focus on ourselves or others. Job kept track of his good works, his faithfulness. God kept track of His own faithfulness, His own greatness. God won out big time. (Job 40-41)

I'm not going to tell you to stop keeping track. I will say that we need to redirect that very natural tendency toward a much more Worthy Subject. Let's keep our eyes fixed on the Author and Perfector of our faith- let's keep track of His faithfulness. His deliverance. His mercy.

We don't need to keep track of ourselves- He does that already. You know when I sit and when I rise... Psalm 139. 

And He does it in perfect love.

How would we live if we just kept our eyes on all the ways God shows us His love, namely in Christ, and stopped worrying about doing it all just right? It would be a messier life for sure, but so much larger than what we can fit into our safe little boxes.

So, can we make a deal? How about when we make mistakes or just blatantly bad choices, instead of putting another tally under our own "screw up" column, we put the tally under God's column- and count on Him to be faithful and forgiving? It will make all the difference.

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* By the way, if you know what I did wrong with the coconut oil, or know of some inexpensive unscented products, I'd be so grateful if you shared your wisdom with me. :)

Why I'm Taking a Vacation From Exercising

I had been on my nutrition/lifestyle plan for all of five hours and I was already the expert.

I gave my husband a "chill out" look, and he shot me back an "are you serious", and it became clear that after we had dealt with the children before us, we would need a game plan on how to handle our new lifestyle changes.

Let me back up. I have rheumatoid arthritis. You may know this already. Shortly after it presented 9 1/2 years ago I realized that I was in good company. Or at least plenty of company.

I can tell you of a host of treatments that worked temporarily, but the list is long and that is not the point. Somewhere along the line I realized I was tired. Tired of pills. Tired of health companies. Tired of pain. And I'm not knocking the good people out there who manufacture and distribute things to make people feel well, but I think what I was tired of most of all was the feeling that I was owned. If my life wasn't totally dictated by the pain, then I was owned by those things that take the pain away.

So through a series of "random" events beginning with our sweet church in River Falls calling my husband (again) to be their pastor, I came across a man who pointed me to a woman who could help. Himself a medical professional, he gave me the tools to visit a woman who has treated thousands of clients with RA and seen amazing results. Her tools- foods. That. is. it. I already eat food. This could be a game changer.

Two weeks ago, I watched Karen Hurd's DVD, learned back almost everything I forgot in high school chemistry, biology, and physics, while being quite entertained by her theatrical examples of blood pressure, adrenaline spikes, and the like. You'd understand if you watched it. My husband and I watched bit by bit (it is a lot of information for our after-bedtime minds to absorb, and while watching it with fully functioning minds would be ideal, we have four kids who injure each other at the slightest hint of boredom). I asked him his thoughts. "She's kooky, but what she says makes sense".

Before it was half through I was internally apologizing to my adrenal glands. I'm sorry little adrenal glands. I won't beat you into labor anymore. I will stop jolting you with sugar and caffeine. C'mon adrenies, we'll do it together. You can trust me. We'll be friends. I told you I was tired.

The next day I decided to sneak peek the end while Heidy took a nap. So I folded my laundry and multitasked as usual. That's when she hit me with a curveball out of nowhere.

Her 18-24 month program to heal RA was not entirely food related.

Get this, she wanted me to rest.

Not take a nap every once in a while. We're talking minimize stress, and no formal exercise. None.
So, naturally, I cried.

To understand my tears I should tell you that where we live there are hundreds of non-profits, hippie grocery stores, holistic practitioners, gyms, coffee shops, music, theater, and art scenes, trails and state parks. On top of that, I have become so immersed in the desire to reach out into the community and join along other brothers and sisters, I have been on philanthropic sensory overload. And that's not even counting what is available to my kids. "I'm ready for something different, Lord. I'm ready for the next big adventure. Just point me in the right direction. What do you want me to do?"

His answer? Rest. She confirmed that answer when I met with her last week.

I haven't rested much. I am not allowed. You are allowed. I will give anyone else permission to rest, but me? Well, take a snooze when you get the laundry done. Rest when your flare-up doesn't give you the ability to be productive anyway. I alone put the pressure on.

And God says, that's enough.

In light of this first week I've noticed some things. 1. I really need to be patient and turn the "knowing" looks toward my husband off. Nobody likes a know-it-all. 2. I let too many things bug me. 3. Making a big influence with Jesus is nice, but it will not be accomplished by finding my own lane in the rat race. Things here have been functioning without me for some time and they will continue to do so. I need to pace myself. 4. We do too much. Then we feel like crap, take a pill or a drink, and keep going at the pace that is hurting us in the first place.

Then there is this: I have a lot to learn and a more than capable Teacher, if I will sit still long enough to listen and heal. 

Forget working out. We are working in.

We run such a tight ship in our lives, communities, churches, that we do not leave any room to sit and be still and know that He is God. For ten minutes in the morning? Fifteen, tops? For how long on Sunday? I pray we are beyond watching the clock. Are we taking, making, the time to recognize His presence every day?

So this gift of rest, I really don't think it is just for me. I think it is for you too. You can certainly tell people, "I'd love to, but no thank you. I need some time to heal." They'll give you funny looks, but who is going to say, "Heal? You don't need to heal!" (If they do say that, I recommend walking away and not punching them in the face.) Sabbath it up! Or if you are filled to the brim with life and need a tiny Sabbath, you can just come here, because my lack of running and exercise should give me some serious time to observe and report. I'll try to make it somewhat entertaining as well.

Or, if you are one of those folks who gets this whole Sabbath deal and takes the time and has some words of wisdom for me, share. Please. Share. I'll take all the wisdom I can get. And now apparently I will be able to sit and listen to it. Whatcha think?

More Than Tissue Paper Christians

They scurry in the door.

 

Backpacks thud on the kitchen table top.

 

Frenzied zippers fling open and the mouth of the bag opens wide.

 

Little mittened hands shove full-force into the void.

 

And emerge. With a plastic bag of treasures.

 

Their classes have one assignment for the week:

Turn off your screens and turn on your minds.

 

To aid in the effort, the school sends home 2 gallon Ziplocs filled with odds and ends. Yarn, tissue paper, glue sticks, straws. paper plate etc.

 

Project time. Make something, anything, creative. Then turn it in. Relentless doodads, claiming residency on my kitchen table. Evicted every single day.

 

He makes puppets. She makes a... can you guess it?

 

 

It's a chandelier.

 

She's got vision. She just plans as she goes. A little duct tape here. A flashlight there. Voila.

 

It's a masterpiece she is proud of, therefore so am I.

 

She clicks the button and the flashlight burns bright, the tissue paper letting the light through. Not all

of it, but some. With a gentle green glow.

 

Not transparent, translucent.

 

I've been struggling with this parable. Is this what we want to be? Translucent? Casting a gentle glow of Jesus, with just a tint of ourselves?

 

I want to say yes- because God made each of us unique. He gave each of us gifts to shine His glory into a dark world. But I'm confronted with Matthew 5- a city on a hill that cannot be hidden.

 

Translucence is not the goal.

 

I wouldn't say the most faithful witnesses I know are translucent- I'd say they were transparent. Or at least pretty close. Brightly colored by the Creator God, but seeking to shine Him everywhere.

 

Absolute beacons of hope.



 

So then, what if our beacon doesn't amount to much more than an LED bulb shining through the middle of a paper plate covered in tissue paper? That's how I feel. How much is enough? How transparent do I need to be?

 

I confess. I'd rather be wrapping paper than tissue paper.

 

And tissue paper rather than crystal clear glass.

 

Then maybe we need to remember Who the light is that is streaming through our chandelier. Not so we can try to take over. Try to shine harder for Him. He is the only one who can do the shining.

 

All we need to do is get out of His way.

 

The things that cloud God's love in my life all have to do with me. Is that how it is for you too?

 

We just get scared.

 

Because getting out of the way means giving up the control.

 

But Who better to take control in our lives than the One Who holds all of life in the balance in the first place?

 

The One Who gave up His life for ours.

 

The One Who rose again, and Who gives us the joy of the resurrection every single day.

 

The One Who knows us better than we know ourselves and Who is sufficient for us.

 

When we focus on the true Light of the World, instead of the vessels that carry Him, letting Him through is not only less frightening- it's far more satisfying.

 

Praying that He shines undeniable love, forgiveness, grace, and mercy into and through your lives today, every day. More and more.

 

 “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16

 

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I'm joining up with Missional Women today for Faith Filled Friday! Come on over and join us!



Rats in the Cellar and the Strong-Willed Child

Shortly after becoming pregnant with our second child, I decided to get to the library and check out some more parenting books. This new endeavor would naturally take more parenting skills that I had yet to develop. I perused the shelves, in search of any of the books I had seen in the bookstore, but was too cheap to buy, until one book caught my eye. I snatched it up, took it home, and set to reading.

 

The name of the book, The New Strong-Willed Child by Dr. James Dobson. After all, other than some clinging issues, our first was a rather compliant child, but I couldn't afford to take any chances. I needed to be "prepared" in the eventuality that this second one was more headstrong.

 

I read the first chapter. The second. Then quit. It freaked me out. A young mother, I was already struggling with the idea that I would be capable of loving another child as much as the one I already had. If this second child acted like any of the case studies in Dr. Dobson's book, I was petrified that I wouldn't love the child at all. Plus, it just looked like so much work to love that kind of child. And mothering one obedient child was tiring enough.

 

Our second, a son, had issues like every other kid, but being strong-willed wasn't one of them. Antagonizing, anxious, goofy, sensitive- he's all of those. Strong-willed? Not really.

 

Then I had the privilege of raising a third child. For this child I prayed. And God let me have it. I wonder why Dobson's book doesn't grace our shelves as a source of constant wisdom.

 

 

 

You've gathered it from previous posts. She's our spit-fire. Our "wild card." Jekyll and Hyde. Time-bomb. She's even been referred to (lovingly) as Sybil on a couple occasions.

 

After a series of hard days this past week, I finally got around to asking people to pray for me as I navigate this relationship. The switch she flips between happy and irate was on a hair-trigger, and so was mine. It was rough and I was coming unglued.

 

It was her fault, I believed in the heat of the moment. I couldn't possibly be expected to respond civilly when she was always catching me off guard. But too much musing in bed revealed what I knew to be true. It was on me.

 

It reminded me of a point C.S. Lewis made in Mere Christianity. (Which is amazing, considering this morning I went into the basement to grab something, only to stare blankly at the overflowing shelf, completely lost as to what it was I needed. I headed back upstairs. Bingo. Paper plates. I chanted "paper plates" the whole way back down.)

 

"On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in the cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am." Mere Christianity, Book 4, Chapter 7

 

So I am embarking on a thankfulness journey, again. Not because it is November. Not even really of my own will. "After the first few steps in the Christian life we realize that everything which really needs to be done in our souls can be done only by God." Mere Christianity, Book 4, Chapter 7

 

It is starting because of this relentless love. Turns out, I can love a strong-willed child. No matter how long their season of stubbornness lasts.

 

And that's not on me, or in me. I have the rats of selfishness and anger running around in my cellar.

 

The relentless love begins, continues, and ends with God. I'm the strong-willed, weak-willed, disobedient, fickle child. And yet He rejoices in me. He delights in me. He loves me and He even likes me.

 

He rejoices in us. He strengthens us. He makes us new. He shines the light of His love into the cellars of our souls, and doesn't recoil at the rats.

 

Again and again and again.

 

And there is one person who reminds me of that day after day- my third-born. God will show me the good. Give grace to our short-comings. And if the only thing I see at the end of the day besides my regrets and her tantrums is His relentless forgiveness, then that's a good day.

 

Pray for me in this please!

If there are any prayer requests you have, please message me at my Facebook page!

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Today I am linking up with the fabulous writers at Faith Filled Friday! Click on the link and join us! Write, read, enjoy:)

Love Answers

My kids are not funny. Well actually, they're circumstantially funny quite a bit. Unintentionally- accidentally-they are hilarious. But deliberately, not so much. The older kids are getting better. They are honing their comedic skills, reading joke books and mastering the art of the punch line, even if they don't get the joke.

The three year old has a ways to go. Like last night:

Her: Knock-knock.
Me: Who's there?
Her: Apple.
Me: Apple who?
Her: There's a wolf outside! AHH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I must be quite the actress, because she translated my attempt at a laugh as, "Great joke, Babe! LOL! You're on a roll. Keep 'em coming!"

She turned to the second grader, "Knock-knock!"

The good thing about three year olds? Most of them look like three year olds. So you expect nonsense. You give all the right answers and they respond out of left field, because that's what they are supposed to do. It's their job.

Other three year old mentalities are a little harder to manage- because they are trapped in adult bodies. You give all the right responses and they respond out of left field, and you are left feeling exhausted, frustrated, and angry. You explode.

Where did that come from? What are they thinking? Didn't they hear what I said? I didn't say anything wrong! They are acting like such a three year old!

The funny thing is that whether we are three, thirty, or beyond, chances are we still haven't mastered the skills we need to predict human response: mind-reading and heart-seeking. No matter how many books we read, how much Dr. Phil we watch, how much therapy we sit through- we just can't get a handle on the inner workings of other people.

Look at those questions above again. Only this time, switch the "they"s and "I"s.

Honestly, we can't get a handle on our own hearts, minds, and actions.

That is a privilege the Lord reserves for Himself alone.

Isn't that awesome?! That's what David thought!

 

 

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
    you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
    and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
    behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
    and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
    it is high; I cannot attain it.

Psalm 139:1-6

So then is there no hope for us? If God alone knows the right thing to do, do we throw in the towel? No way. Because God didn't ask us to fill in for Him. He told us to love.

And love answers.

Love isn't about being right. It's about being there.

Love is about the Truth. And Truth is about Love. You cannot divorce the two. But being right is never the end goal. If it happens in the process, then I guess that's a bonus. But speaking from experience, any time my thoughts and energies were devoted to being right, I blew it on the love end. Any time my thoughts and energies were devoted to loving (really loving- not just sycophancy) the truth was served as well.

So, I'm pitching the palm-reading and turning in the turban. Enough of the predicting. I'm about 0 for a million, so I guess I wasn't that good anyway.

We're much better equipped for the love job. God makes sure of that. It's still hard and unpredictable, but it's worth it.

Praying you connect with God's love today, and love someone else in the process.

 

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This morning I am linking up with Missional Women for Faith Filled Friday!