I Will Try Harder

My son is reading a heady book as part of his Starting Points Biblical Worldview curriculum: C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianty.  He's a little behind in his reading (and frustrated enough to snap a pencil in half!), so I offered to read a couple of chapters to him yesterday and help him complete his questions. 


What I didn't expect was to nearly cry in relief at the sage words of this great atheist turned-Christian philosopher.  Noah looked at me strangely as I read the words, then hugged the book to my heart and said, "Thank you, Lord."  I don't think it was an accident that it was Book III, Chapter 11, p. 109  that I read to my boy yesterday.  I believe it was God's provision for me, a tired, striving mother. 


You see, I have set loftly spiritual goals lately, and the more I grasp for them, the more they elude me. 

In December, I chose my three words for the 2012:  thrift, nurture, decrease (fasting.)  After two months, I'm painfully aware of how unthrifty I am, how many opportunities I neglect to nurture people in my life, and how quickly I can talk myself out of a fast.  I recall with a wince how enthusiastically I shared my three words and associated goals with a group of women in January.  I was inspired and trying to be inspiring.  Now it's halfway through February, and I am instead clinging to these words Lewis wrote many years ago....

"(We must) make some serious attempt to practice the spiritual virtues.  A week is not enough.  Things often go swimmingly for the first week.  Try six weeks.  By that time, having, as far as one can see, fallen back completely or even fallen lower than the point one began from, one will have discovered some truths about oneself.  No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good." (p. 109)

"All this trying leads up to the vital moment when you turn to God and say, 'You must do this.  I can't.'" (p. 113)

-C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

So I will not stop trying to be good.  I will pour myself out trying to be good...and this will lead to the truth, that I am a weakling who is personally bankrupt.  And then I will know that I know that I know why Jesus had to pay.

Her Little Rended Heart

Rend your heart.  These three words from the Book of Joel draw me deep this morning.  Rend is not a word we use now.  It means to tear into two pieces, like the curtain of the temple splitting supernaturally, so that the barrier meant to separate, now falls away and we step with awe into the holy of holies. 

It's how I stepped into my daughter's heart the other night, when she came home rended and trying bravely to hold back the tears.  I quickly surmised her evening had not gone well when she shed her coat and lunged into my arms.  I felt my own throat catch with her pain. 

But the blessing that accompanied her rended heart was that I could cross the threshold, her little holy of holies, and hasten the healing, whisper words of truth in her ear, hold her close.  It came quicker than I expected, the healing.  I could see it in her eyes as she turned up her sweet little face and gazed gratefully at me.  I could hear it in the words that began to flow from her..."Maybe next time, Mommy." 

She told me that when she was sitting in the middle of the disappointment, she remembered a poem she had read, about how to find one, good thing, when everything is going bad.  She said, "I thought about how I had made a basket at my basketball game on Saturday, and it made me feel better." That's right, girl, you are learning "eucharisteo," the hard thanks.  

Tomorrow is the beginning of Lent, the season of fasting and reflection before Easter.  It's a time to rend my own heart, or allow it to be torn, broken, spilled out for my Savior, who did the same for me.  How do I do this?  I think about my heaping pile of sin.  I count my flaws and repent for all of us who turn our own way and twist every good gift from above into an idol.  Yeah, it's no fun.  I'd rather watch TV and eat ice cream.  But the sweets will go for Lent and the bitter taste will settle in for awhile.  And healing will come.  And Easter morning will be GLORIOUS!

Eucharisteo: The Hard Thanks

If you have read A Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, you will understand what I mean about giving "hard thanks." 

She elaborates on the word eucharisteo, which refers to the painstaking gratitude Christ displayed when at his last supper, he broke the bread and gave thanks, knowing in his bones that he would soon die a slow and painful death.  This incredible book inspired me to put the Greek word on my wall as a reminder of how to live.

I've been thinking about stories old and new of people who have learned the art of eucharisteo, this life-filling gratitude.  I think of Corrie Ten Boom engaging in eucharisteo over moldy bread in a Nazi concentration camp and how it led to reconciliation with Nazi prison guards.  Every missionary book we have read over the years has told a story of struggle mingled with thanksgiving. 

Gratitude rescues us.

In the past few weeks, I have been drawn into multiple stories of people in my own circle of life with heavy burdens, painful surprises, longsuffering...broken bones, broken spirits, car accidents, husbands struggling with lust, children struggling with the world, chronic illness, confusion about God, bankruptcy, long health recoveries, suicide, death. 

So much grappling with pain and disappointment and dreams deferred.  I pray for these precious souls.  I wait and see if they will claw their way toward eucharisteo.  It can be a long, bleeding fight out of the pit of despair to the communion table, but those who find their way are blessed beyond measure. 

I have done it several times in my life.  Given the hard thanks for the worst of things.  I can attest to this: 

The overpowering grace of God trumps the pain of the fall every time.   It's what keeps me coming back to the table again and again. 

"In this world you will have troubles, but I have overcome the world!" John 16:33

My Thoughts on Abortion, Breast Cancer, and Money

I've been thinking about abortion lately.  A lot.  The news that the Susan G. Komen Foundation for breast cancer awareness gives substantial grants to Planned Parenthood, the top abortion provider, has sent me searching my heart. 

There was a time when I was pro-choice and believed in what Planned Parenthood stood for.  Then my new-found faith in Christ turned my life upside down and began to mold my heart and my worldview.  It gave me a new lens with which to scope the issues of the day. 

I eventually came to this conclusion about abortion:  everyone values life. 

One person values life from the point of conception, believing a God-woven human being, with every hope and potential, exists in the womb.  Cells collide.  A miracle happens.  Life begins.  It is real and sacred and should be, at the very least, as valued and protected as an eagle's egg. 

Another person values quality of life.  If the baby will reduce the quality of life of the mother, or if the baby is simply unwanted, it is better off never being born.  The mother, in all her emotional agony and hormonal fervor over the surprise pregnancy, gets to decide.  The consequences can devastate her life.

I was deeply moved by the pro-life commercial last year that never aired during the Super Bowl.  It intimated that Barrack Obama, a fierce proponent of pro-choice, was a prime candidate to have been aborted.  This  intelligent, articulate, charismatic leader was born to a poor, single mom, who risked her own quality of life to keep him. Oh, the irony.  It makes me painfully aware that a million potential Barrack Obamas are never born each year in America. 

Perhaps even the doctor who would have discovered the cure for breast cancer.

And here I have circled back around.  Do I continue giving my money to Susan G. Komen when a friend or relative asks me to support a cancer walk or give a donation?  Does my desire to support them trump my deep-seated convictions?  I would have to say "no," until Komen reverses its decision.  I would honor my loved one by giving money to a different breast cancer awareness organization, like Join the Journey, a Rochester-based non-profit, but I will not knowingly direct my money to a charity that crosses a line I have drawn. 

I do not stand in judgement of the woman who has had an abortion.  My friend, Julie, has a powerful ministry to these women, born of her own painful decision to abort her baby, and I share her compassion.  I also care about for the spiritually-blind doctors who provide these abortions.  There is hope of restoration for them.  This truth is at the root of my faith. 

But I will not be ashamed to speak for the unborn and to make my stand. 

Busyness Redefined

I regularly ask myself, "Am I too busy?"  Like most people, my schedule is full and I have to be pretty creative to get everyone where they need to be.  The interior of the car serves as dining room, prayer room, library, movie theater, coffee shop...you get the picture.  Some people are surprised to hear how much homeschoolers are not at home!  Think about it:  everything but actual bookwork is in other buildings (in another town!)...choir, gym, play practice, out-of-town games.  And I am THE BUS DRIVER! 

So back to my original question:  Am I too busy?  Are we over- committed?

No.  And here is why:  like Jesus, I do ministry "as I go."  If you read through the gospels, you note the oft-repeated phrase,"As Jesus was on his way..."  Did he even have a home?  He always had a destination, but he constantly stopped to minister, heal, pray, teach, love, and serve along the way.  He knew his purpose, and it wasn't just to arrive at the next thing on time.  It was to do his Father's work. 

I wake early each morning to meet with God and ask Him to direct my day.  I fill out my daily schedule and then acknowledge that the day is in His hands.  At the end of the day, I reflect a bit.  It's encouraging to realize that on most days, I am able to keep to the schedule, AND minister along the way, engage with people, notice little things to be thankful for, connect with my kids, serve a nice dinner.  It's about paying attention and inclining my ear toward God.  It's about having a swirling spiritual awareness on one level, while I move and breath in the temporal world. 

Yesterday, I received an e-mailed prayer request to my women's Bible study group.  A woman asked for prayers as her husband prepared to leave for a business trip to China.  Simple enough, but God gave me the insight to read between the lines.  He reminded me how it felt to send my husband into the exotic, temptation-filled world of Asia.  I stopped immediately to e-mail her.  The floodgates opened.  There was much to minister to between the lines. 

I was tired after a long day yesterday, and happy that I would have the evening home.  Then my daughter got sick and couldn't babysit for my friend's "small group" gathering...17 kids!  So I went in her place.  I got to read to a sweet toddler, hold a 5-day old baby, and have lovely conversations with some beautiful friends at the end of the night. 

When the kids were little, I wanted to be out more.  Now I want to be home more.  But my purpose does not change based on my stage of life.  I can glorify and serve God in all things...changing diapers, scrubbing dishes, spearheading fundraisers, performing concerts, emailing, blogging, babysitting, cleaning cat puke, driving the bus.  My home is a haven; my family is a gift and a mission; but there is much good to be done "on the way." 

For Becky and the Circle of Hurt

My beloved friend, who stole my heart in the college dorms and has blessed me for two decades with her friendship, told me last night that she and her community are hurting in the wake of two suicides in the local high school.  Bright, well-liked, active boys now gone.  I wonder at the inner turmoil that can lead to such finality.  I have seen dark places, but the door was always cracked and a sliver of light was always shining through. 

What to say?  My heart aches for those who do not know the value of their soul; that they are created, purposed, beloved, empowered, redeemed.  When Evil tells them they are failures, worthless, hopeless, and powerless, I want to shout, "NO!  Don't listen to the lies!" 

It's too late.  Now there is just aftermath.  But in the aftermath, there is that sliver of light. 

I thought I would share the lyrics to a new song I am working on.  It's a song for the aftermath.  I wish I could sing the plaintive melody for you, but for now, just the words...

More of God Now

It's the hard thanks you give in the dark
Sifting through the ashes for the beauty
Finding the tiny, little spark
And you know, you know more of God now

It's seeing how a loss can be a gain
How to travel light and hold loosely to things
Reaching up and out of pain
And you know, you know more of God now
Deeper, wider thoughts now

It's when you have no words to say
you're hoping someone says them for you
Until your timid prayers turn brave
You know, you know more of God now
Deeper, wider thoughts now
The weight of the cross now

It's when you're emptied out and bleeding
and, suddenly, you're overwhelmed by grace
That bit of hope is what you're needing
And you know, you know more of God now
Deeper, wider, broader, higher thoughts now
The weight of the cross now
More of God now