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How We Should Risk Big on Ordinary Days

Pastor called out questions that hung thick, “Are you willing to take a big risk? ... To give your whole life to love people who may break your heart?  Relationships are risky business.”  Ah, to say the least, right?  His take on the parable of the talents (Matthew25:14-30) was that the servant whom the master praised for bringing the best return on his investment was obviously the one who had taken the greatest risk. 

Sometimes I look at my children, and I wonder who they will become.  I have flash backs of all these kids I knew who grew up to break their parents hearts—chased hard after all the wrong things.  I look in the wonder-filled eyes of my own, and quietly ask the Lord, “Is this one going to break my heart?”

 

Sure, I’ve had a broken heart but not the kind that your own children can give you. 

The Lord whispers back, “Maybe.  But they’re always worth the risk, aren’t they?  Give them your whole life.  Love them with everything I pour into you—pour it into them.  Let them break your heart a thousand times.  Through them, I’m making you look more like Myself.  Practice.  Practice dying for them by dying to yourself, giving yourself in love a thousand times a day.”

When you want to throw in the towel on hard days or on difficult people, remember loving is always worth the risk.  Jesus said so – showed us so.

The Toy Rapture: How I Waged War on Ingratitude Among my Little Tribe Today

This morning I whispered a prayer, “Lord, please help me to be patient with my children.  I don’t want to parent out of anger but out of love—all day.”  Today was the day—I was going to lean into God.

The war began at breakfast (of course).  Not a war against my children but the one for their hearts.  The bacon wasn’t crispy enough, she complained.  The ice in her juice hurt her teeth.  There were no “thank yous,” no “pleases.”  Demands smacked hard.  When I would normally sling biting tones back about being grateful, today I just whispered my prayers.  The Lord is so gracious to give wisdom when we ask for it. 

 

As my girls ate (or didn’t eat) their breakfast, I walked back to my girls’ bedroom and started to pack up dolls, doll furniture, play kitchen stuff…what felt like nearly every toy that China or Wal-Mart has to offer…and quietly carried the boxes to the attic. 

Then the pleas of my eldest began, “What are you doing?  Why are you doing this?” 

“I will explain it to you in a few minutes.”

I really wanted to rattle off the facts--how privileged they are, that they are in less than five percent of the world’s population of children who have this kind of stuff, this kind of food, this life of ridiculous lagniappe, that there are starving children in the two-thirds world who would love to trade places with them.  But I held all that in.  None of that would resonate with little round faces who just had almost all of their possessions hauled off. 

So I took a deep breath and for once in my life didn’t say anything sarcastic.

I just sat Indian style on the floor of the big empty bedroom and said, “This morning I realized that I’ve messed up.”  I recounted their words to me at breakfast and then quietly said, “I want you to learn to be thankful, and the one who is supposed to teach you that is me.  I haven’t done that great of a job, so this is just a little project we’re going to try for at least a week to see if it helps you to appreciate what you have, to take care of your stuff, and to say “please” and “thank you” to your mama and folks who do things for you.”

To my amazement, there’s been no weeping and gnashing of teeth since our “Come to Jesus” meeting.  Instead, we’ve walked around a little more light-hearted today.  We took our “read-aloud” book outside and sat on the quilt in the shade this morning.  They played with the grass, made a card out of grass and construction paper and put it in the mailbox.  They found that an empty toy box has all sorts of fun uses, like climbing in it for a boat.  And some long lost toys that didn’t get snatched up in the toy rapture were rediscovered.  

 

The conversation has been hilarious:  “Mama, I like this little thing we’re doing.  I don’t have to pick up so much.”  “Hey, when company comes, we can just pick up our two things and have it all looking good.”  “Mama, thanks for cleaning all the furniture out of this doll house; I’ve been needing to dust it!”  “You know what?  We have so much more time without all the stuff!”  …and that from the mouth of a five-year-old.

Time.  That illusive thing that we crave while it slips through our fingers.  If I’m not careful, my time with them will be gone before I’ve had a chance to teach them all these things I’m dying for them to understand.  If I waste it, chances are they will just grow into entitled adults—just larger versions of the five-year-old who complains about her hot breakfast.  I’ve seen an adult like that a few times…in the mirror, and it’s a war for her heart too.

Our Calling to be IN the Tornadoes

     That familiar lump started developing in the base of my throat as I drove through the aftermath of the F-4 tornado in Louisville on my way to my parents’ house.  My three young children were happy-go-lucky in the backseat, oblivious to the devastating scene right outside their window.  I passed the same two churches I’ve passed a million times before, but this time at the sight of them the lump fell and tears started to roll.  Signs in the church yards beckoned—help was here, all were welcome.  Right there in the seeming chaos I felt the presence of God so strongly…Jesus saying to these families and to me, “I am here.  I am here in the midst of your destruction.  My presence is here, and that is all that you need.”   
    Looking at concrete slabs and trees piled on homes that held memories for families I’ve never met and remembering the horrible loss of life—so many families in that one little area changed forever—Jesus said, “I am here, and I will be their portion.” 

    As I continued down the road, I felt Him reminding me that I walk in the midst of that kind of destruction everyday—lives pressed beneath the heavy weight of broken hearts, broken families, addiction, and emotional trauma of every kind.  On the outside it doesn’t appear as horrifying as the wake of the tornado, but on the inside people’s lives look just like this.  And Jesus says I am to carry His presence into those horrifying places. 

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others . . . .” –Matt. 5:14-16  

    We Jesus-followers are to be in the midst of the destruction as those churches on Highway 14 are with the Good News that a Savior is reaching out to them with arms wide open.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” –Matthew 11:28-30

Wherever you are, be all there.

            We sit in meetings and check our watches, our tweets, our texts, our calendar app, our to-do list.  At home we feel guilty for not being on the job; on the job we feel guilty for not being at home.  (Or for the stay-at-home mom, we feel guilty for being enslaved by the to-do list rather than playing with the children.  When you relinquish it to play in the yard, you feel tugged away by all the demands inside.)  During supper we think about the clean up, the night-time routine, the exhaustion, the things to do before crashing.  During breakfast we worry about getting to the next thing on time . . .  How often we miss the joy of simple conversation and laughter during supper, miss the chance to sing crazy songs in the car-ride, miss a moment God was trying to teach us something during that meeting, miss the chance to show that person Jesus.

            It was on the car ride after a hectic morning routine of waking the girls, feeding, clothing, brushing teeth, hurrying into the car, that it hit me – maybe not hit me for the first time but hit me harder . . .

            A friend in my church family went to Africa this summer and encountered a missionary who gave her this one line:  “Wherever you are, be all there.”  She brought the line back to me.  Much more succinct than I’ve ever said it, but I’ve been thinking it over for about six years now . . . “How can I be fully present where I am at all times?” 

            Jesus lived it.  On a mission, with purpose, often surrounded by crowds, but never in a hurry. 

            What hit me in the car was this:  “What if I only had one more month to live, but I still had to do all of my daily responsibilities (full-time mom, part-time ministry job) within that month?  What would I do differently than what I’m doing right now?”  Certainly, I wouldn’t want my girls remembering a mother who just rushed them out of bed, to breakfast, to car, to drop them off—all in one hurried blur.  If I still had to go to work and my elder child still had to go to her “school” (home school program 2 days a week)—in other words, if I still had to be away from them for several hours several days a week—with what would I want to leave in their precious little memories.  I would want them to remember a mother who woke them with a smile, who had kindness on her lips, who cooked them a yummy breakfast, and who encouraged them even if their bodies were still sleepy and minds foggy.  Love – that’s what I want them to remember.

            Practically speaking, then, how can I be fully present where I am at all times?  I haven’t mastered it yet, but here’s what I’m aiming for:

1. Slowing down where I can.  How?

-          Being realistic about what I can accomplish in a given period of time.  (Of course, this is my hardest one.  I’m forever the optimist.)

-          Not being too proud to receive help.  (God doesn’t call us to do family or ministry alone.  In fact, that’s the opposite of what God wants for us.)

-          Not being too proud to say “no” when I can’t do it all.  (Yes, for people-pleasers and performers, it’s a pride issue.)

2. Paying attention to the blessings in the moment.  (Learned this one from Ann Voskamp’s book One Thousand Gifts.  LOVE her blog too; she writes about this slowing down often.)  Naming the gifts.  (I’m on #899 – writing down thanks to God.)
   
   
3. Praying for spiritual eyes to see what’s most important—the one thing needed. 

-          “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “You are worried and upset about many things,  but few things are needed—or indeed only one.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41-42 NIV).

I have so far to go.  Tell me, how do you live this line – “Wherever you are, be all there”?  Don’t be shy.  Leave a comment for those of us who need it!

A Renewed Mind, Part 2

          The combined effect of Jesus and children has really messed up my life!  I like order and clarity.  I used to have a bit of that.  I remember a time not so long ago when I would put things where they go, and they would actually stay there until I moved them again.  I remember a time when my body would actually stay asleep past 5:30 a.m., when I would start doing something and actually finish it, when I would spend uninterrupted hours on the same task, when I would string together lots of little intellectual thoughts for seminary papers and churn out those papers one right after the other. 

            I’m thankful for that season . . . that spring season, planting time, when God turned over the soil of my life and used that season to prepare me for the next.  He’s so good like that.  Always going before us, forming us, preparing us.  Spring prepares for summer.  Summer prepares for fall. 

            It was in that season that He gently showed me that I had been “content” (complacent) with my version of Christianity.  I had been content with the idea of lots and lots of pockets of luxury—the primary luxury being “free” time—“my” time that I could “control.”  Jesus shifted my paradigm—my grid for my life.  He did it gradually.  He did it instantly.  He still does it.  I’m so thankful that he “messes up” my life. 

            He showed me my desperate need for Him all day every day.  He showed me that my “old Christianity” only works in a vacuum where there are no demands on my life.  He loved me too much to let me stay there, and he brought me to a new season, a place where my rough edges can be smoothed by the sandpaper of little people who live with me all the time and big people too who don’t think just like I do.  He gives me a place to get stretched, bothered, misunderstood, and overwhelmed in a good kind of way.  It’s a way that slowly looks more like the Kingdom of God than the kingdom of self.

            I’ve been reading the gospel of Mark, and I love how it does something to me every time I read it.  In Mark 2 (and all over the gospels) Jesus messes with the religious folks’ thinking too.  He forgives sins, calls a tax collector, invites the scum of the earth to eat with him, doesn’t fast like “they” think he should, harvests on the Sabbath.  It’s a paradigm shift of gigantic proportions.

            It got me thinking . . . is what I think is good and righteous truly the way of the cross, the way of Jesus, or is it fraudulent self-righteousness instead?  In short, where am I the Pharisee who has tragically, sadly missed Him?  “Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves” (2 Cor. 13:5 NIV).

            You don’t have to have children or a husband to have this good kind of messed up life, but you must have Jesus.  You must make room for the Savior to come in and shift your paradigm and move you to the next season.

What we really need . . . A Renewed Mind, Part 1

            We spend most of our waking hours on the “doing.”  The Word certainly supports a life of doing:  “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Eph. 2:10 NIV).  But in order to do the doing that God has called us to do, we must know who we are—the being.  If we are going to serve with joy among the joyless, endure hardships, stand firm in adversity, mature, live out our gifting with power and purpose, we must know who we are . . . namely, who we are in Christ.

            For those who’ve grown up in the church, we blow this off.   Check.  I know the verses—I’m an heir of God, adopted Gentile kid.  Caught in a trap of false humility, we don’t want to think of who we are in Christ—maybe because of our pride . . . (but that’s for another day).

            Christ didn’t die for that—just for me to live in a trap.  He also didn’t die for you or me to walk around defeated with a gray cloud over your head, powerless and without joy or victory.

            No, he died to make you a new creation, an heir of the Father and co-heir with Him, to graft you into His family and make you His own.  He defeated your sin and your death so that you might be filled with the Holy Spirit and live in freedom and victory and enjoy His presence all the time.  He defeated my sin and my death so that I might “do good works” with REAL LOVE in a depraved, messed up world.

            So if you need a swift kick in the behind . . . I mean a gentle reminder of who you are . . . as I do sometimes, maybe these verses will get you started:

Who I am in Christ

Colossians 3:10-12 (NLT):  Put on your new nature, and be renewed as you learn to know your Creator and become like him. ¹¹ In this new life, it doesn’t matter if you are a Jew or a Gentile, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbaric, uncivilized, slave, or free. Christ is all that matters, and he lives in all of us.  ¹² Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.

Romans 6:4 (NLT):  For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives.

Romans 8:17 (NIV):  Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

2 Corinthians 5:17 (NLT):  This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!

2 Corinthians 5:20 (NLT):  So we are Christ’s ambassadors; God is making his appeal through us. We speak for Christ when we plead, “Come back to God!”

Ephesians 4:22-24 (NIV):  You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; ²³ to be made new in the attitude of your minds; ²⁴ and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

Galatians 4:4-7 (NIV):  But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, ⁵ to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. ⁶ Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.” ⁷ So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir.