Tag Archives: Christianity

Seasons.

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Life is full of seasons, made up of seasons. There are seasons of abundance and joy and dry seasons when the soul is weary and parched. It reminds me of the land I grew up on in Missouri and the way we talked about the weather like it was money–because rain, too much or too little of it, could mean everything to a successful crop and harvest.

This winter season feels like the longest I’ve ever experienced. I usually declare it spring as soon as we’ve poked our toes across the line into March but there doesn’t seem much point in doing that this year with the snow still falling and forecasted as far out as we can see. This winter has been made up of long days cooped up in the house taking care of a baby and long nights waiting for Darren to get home from work and class. And I’m starting to feel a little parched, dried up, in need of some cleansing rain.

I’ve been discouraged, tired, overwhelmed. I’m ready to be done with winter, done with house remodeling, done with busy days that keep my little family from being together and enjoying each other.

I want to quit.

But I remembered yesterday, that life is made up of seasons–seasons of abundance and dry seasons without rain.

This discouragement, this weariness, this wanting to give up and walk away–this is just a season without rain. Seasons change. Winter, no matter how stubborn, always gives way to spring. The flowers always poke through, even if they must first poke up through the snow.

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I’m thankful that seasons come and go, ebb and flow in and out of life like the tide. I’m thankful that the longest, darkest night always gives way to dawn. But I’m even more thankful that right in the middle of the dark and dry spells, there is water and light and hope. There is God. And God doesn’t change, he doesn’t ebb and flow or fluctuate. I don’t need my life or circumstances to change in order to be refreshed–I can be refreshed right here in the desert by a God who always brings light and hope and renewal.

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Soon, the snow will melt. I will feel the sunshine on my skin and be able to go outside and stretch my legs. I can’t wait. But until then, I’m using these cooped up winter days to find the light and rain I need in my soul. This season will pass. I will look back at this winter and these first months as a mother and see this time I’m now in from a different vantage point. I have to remind myself of that–that this is a season. No matter how overwhelming a day or period may be, it will pass, it will change. And even when I’m in the middle of a long, discouraging stretch without change, God is always the same–always present, always renewing, always what my parched soul truly needs for actual, lasting change.

I Wanted a Girl

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One year ago today I found out I was having a little boy. I was disappointed. I had wanted a girl—deeply, almost desperately wanted a girl. It’s not that I don’t like boys just as much, but there’s just so many of them in my life. Five brothers. Loads of nephews. I love every man and boy in my life and wouldn’t trade any of them for a girl, but still…I wanted a daughter. I wanted some girl time. I wanted flowery dresses and mommy/daughter fun.

So when the ultrasound tech said with all kinds of enthusiasm, “It’s a boy!” I faked a smile and fought back tears. I pretended to be happy. I called my family and faked excitement as I gave them the news. And when all the calls and pretending were done, I sat in the car and cried. I felt horrible, selfish, and ungrateful. I had a perfectly healthy little boy growing away and all I could do was cry about not getting what I wanted. But it was more than that.

I felt like God had let me down.

This desire for a daughter was so deeply rooted in my heart that I honestly didn’t think God would deny me. And when he did, I felt like I was being taunted. Why had I wanted a girl so much if I was just going to be told no? Why couldn’t I will myself to want a son just as much as a daughter?

That night we went to dinner with Darren’s family to celebrate. We opened gifts of blue and cowboys and I felt a million miles away. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to celebrate. When we left the restaurant the whole sky was robed in pink with the sunset; and I thought again that God was making fun of me with the world dressed in pink. Darren and I went to the mall after that to buy the first outfit for our baby boy—blue jeans, blue shirt, blue, blue, blue.

When we finally got home, I lay in bed and cried. Was I spoiled and wallowing in my own disappointment at not getting what I wanted? Probably. I have friends who want children but have instead faced infertility, miscarriage, and stillbirth. Though my heart hurts for them, I can’t pretend to understand what they’ve been through. And I’m sure I, with my perfectly healthy baby, must sound incredibly stupid and selfish complaining about something as simple as the specific gender of a child. I knew it then and I know it now and yet I couldn’t will myself to feel differently at the time.

But I have learned something since this day last year. I have learned from experience that sometimes what I want is not nearly as wonderful as what God wants to give me. Sometimes my plan isn’t best. Sometimes God withholds one thing to fill my heart and arms with something I didn’t even know I needed or wanted. God is, in fact, smarter than me.

The other night I sat on Roman’s nursery floor holding my sleeping boy in my arms. He was done eating, I could have put him to bed and gone to bed myself but I just couldn’t put him down. I wanted to hold and snuggle him because already he’s growing and changing so fast—it makes my heart hurt realizing I won’t always be able to snuggle him close in my arms. Once I had put him down and gone to bed, I lay there thinking about how I had once been disappointed over him, how I had thought I wanted something else. And I cried again, not out of disappointment, but out of disbelief that I had ever thought he wasn’t enough, wasn’t what I wanted. And I was thankful that God knew better and gave a gift I cannot deserve.

When I hold this child, this child who I once cried hot tears of disappointment over, I am thankful that God loves me enough to not always give me what I think I want. Somehow I think learned love is even better than love that comes naturally. When you have fought and worked for something, it means more to you than things simply given. I didn’t know if I would love my son as much as I would have loved a daughter, that’s the truth. But I can tell you, now that he’s here, I wouldn’t trade him for a dozen daughters and I can’t imagine loving any child more.

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Is Modern Christianity Relevant?

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10859615_10152506058101517_915080845_nThere is something about the rain that makes me want to write…a sleeping baby doesn’t hurt either. I’m curled up on the couch in a dark living room listening to the rain hit the window. The cat is in my lap, after turning about 15 times before finding just the right spot—that spot being one that requires I hold the laptop just far enough away to be a bit uncomfortable for typing. But I feel sorry for him—he doesn’t get much attention anymore so I’ll hold him and type this way if it lets him know I still love him—even if I am the one who brought that noisy baby into the house. Besides, I need someone to proofread this for me and he’s quite scrupulous.

And now the baby is awake; you see why I don’t write anymore?

I’ve been thinking lately about modern Christianity. I think it’s the modern part that’s bothering me. I was looking through a list of the Top 100 Christian Bloggers or something like that. I was familiar with some of the names and faces and have read articles from many of them. But it was the words describing these writers that got my attention:

Progressive

Change

Radical

Rethinking Biblical Christianity

Brew your own faith

All of these blogs seemed to be coming from the same basic perspective: Modern Christianity is bad so we need to rewrite our faith.

Now before you start pummeling me with words, let me be clear: I’m not against change—sometimes change is needed. I’m not against asking hard questions and examining our faith knowing we may find things we’re doing wrong. I’ve been attending conservative Baptist churches my whole life and let me tell you, sometimes Baptists can be cray cray. Some of the worst people I’ve ever known were “born again” Baptist church goers and I’ve been to a few churches that caused more harm than good. So I’m not here to defend organized religion or the people who run it. There’s been more than one day when I was ready to be done with religion {not God, religion} altogether.

But on the other side of this story, I believe if our faith is right and true, then it is also timeless. There’s no need to “brew my own faith” because my faith is not my own—it wasn’t written by or for me. It was written by and for God, for his people all over the world for all time. Perhaps my particular church in my teeny, tiny corner of the world needs to change—but my faith, the Bible I read to know and understand that faith, and God himself—these are unchangeable and no new or progressive interpretation need change that.

I’m getting tired of the negativity among Christians these days. I’m getting tired of my brothers and sisters in Christ being ashamed of our faith and practice. This is not to say I haven’t at times been guilty of the very same things. But it seems the general attitude about the church among my generation is, let’s burn it to the ground and start over.

Let’s take our ancient, timeless faith and do something new and exciting with it.

Let’s show people how our peculiar, countercultural way of life is super relevant and not hard or sacrificial.

Forgive me if I sound harsh but this doesn’t make sense.

Because here’s the thing: my way of life doesn’t make sense unless it’s based on something bigger and more important than me, something bigger and more important than what I find relevant and exciting for me personally. I do not need to make my way of living relevant to the culture around me because I am not trying to be like the culture around me. I’m trying to be like Christ and if Christ is anything like the world I live in, then why would I want him anyway? My God is different. He’s light. He’s beauty. He’s justice. He’s hope. He’s everything this world can’t give me and that is part of why I believe and hope in him—not because he’s relevant but because he’s so very different from everything else I’ve ever known.

I don’t want to change God into my image; I want to be changed into his. I don’t want God to be current or progressive; I want him to be timeless and unchanging so I can anchor my soul to a rock who won’t move.

I’ve been reading my way through the Old Testament and am just a few pages into Leviticus. Leviticus is not easy reading, my friends. This book is all about rules and regulations and the very specific way God wants things done. Why? Because God is holy and not like us. Because God wants his people to be set apart and different from the people around them. Christianity is about God and about being his peculiar people. Though organized religion may falter and change, the God of the Bible and the way he desires his people to live never does.

Let’s not confuse changing our mistakes in religion with changing the timeless truth of God and his Word. Yes, God is relevant to modern culture but it’s not because we changed him and made him that way; it’s because he and his timeless truth are always relevant in every culture just as they are.

 

Not Alone

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My Boys Collage

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10735788_10152432829691517_710490961_nTonight I sat outside in the dark looking at the stars. I felt small here on earth looking at all the light poking through from up there. Roman was with me and fussed if ever I took my hand off of him. So I rested it on his head or chest and he quieted back to sleep with his mittened fingers wrapped around mine in the cold. He just wants to know I’m there, still holding onto him in the dark. Maybe that’s why I look at the stars, even though they make me feel small—I just want to know God is watching over me in the dark.

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.” Psalm 19:1 {ESV}

Fingerprints

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I didn’t know until this week how our fingerprints are formed but apparently the amniotic fluid flowing around our fingers in the womb creates the waves and patterns that leave every single person with their own unique prints.

Isn’t it sort of amazing that we are forever marked and identified by the distinctive way we were carried around in our mother’s womb?

It makes me think about God and the way he flows and moves in our lives, leaving his fingerprints all over us. It makes me think about how his prints are unique to every individual life and how no two people are marked exactly the same way by his touch.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.” Jeremiah 1:5 {NIV}

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.” Psalm 139:13-18 {ESV}

His fingerprints are everywhere—touching, shaping, and forming all things; and we are but clay, forever marked by the unique prints of the master potter’s hands.

On Becoming a Mother: It’s Okay to Change

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The thing that scares me the most about having a baby is the idea of change. There are things about my life I love and don’t want to change—and it scares me to think that they will.

The other day I thought about writing myself a letter as a way of looking back after the baby is born and reminding myself of who I was before I became a mom. I wanted to remind myself of who I am and what I value. I was afraid of getting swallowed up in motherhood and losing myself completely. I wanted that letter to remind me who I was so I could make sure I hadn’t changed.

But I didn’t write that letter.

Because I realized instead that it’s okay to change.

Even though I don’t want to lose myself when I become a mother, I also don’t want to fight and resist the changes that can and should be born in me during this time.

Pregnancy is changing me; it’s changing my heart and my soul and my body—and that’s okay. How could I possibly bring another life into this world—through my own body—without being transformed in the process?

What I realized when I thought about writing that letter is this:

Change is okay.

Change is good.

Change is not something to fight or resist or run away from.

All the best things that have happened in my life have required that change be born in me. If I were to hold onto who I am, to who I was—I would still be a child, immature and incapable. Change moves me forward and helps me grow into who I am able to be.

So yes, becoming a mother still scares me and I still wonder in what ways I will be different on the other side of this journey. I still don’t want to lose myself completely along the way. But I’m not afraid to change. I’m not afraid to grow. I’m ready to let pregnancy and motherhood birth new life not only in the child I’m carrying, but also in me—in my own soul and spirit as it stretches, grows, and changes right along with my body.

There is this story in the Bible, a parable used to illustrate a bigger idea, about how a seed must be buried, torn open, and essentially—die—before new life can sprout up out of that seed {John 12:24}. The seed is useless if it stays the same, if it doesn’t give itself up and allow new life to spring from it. And I think right now I’m that seed. New life can only be born from me if I’m willing to be buried, torn open, and die to myself a little bit. It sounds really bad for the seed, but think of the blossoms and the life that springs from that giving up and giving out of oneself. It’s really quite beautiful and spiritual.

So it’s true—I will not be the girl I am today when I reach the other side of this journey. I will be a mother. I will have brought life into this world. New life will have been born in me. And everything will be different after that.

And that’s okay.

The Comforts of Home

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Today we are home, curled up on the couch watching football. The cat is curled up on the other couch, because obviously, he needs a whole couch to himself…diva. The Pats are playing the Dolphins. I would rather be watching my home boys, the Chiefs, but they don’t show their games out here. We were in Kansas City a few weeks ago and were almost late for our flight because I just had to see the Chiefs finish their game while I had the chance. They normally lose, you know, so watching them win for once is a lot of fun :]

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We had big bowls of hot soup for lunch today and dipped thick chunks of warm bread in it. The heat is on because it’s cold, cold, cold outside and we are sipping mugs of hot coffee to warm up. I sprinkled cinnamon over the coffee grounds before brewing it; between that and the pumpkin creamer, it’s just about the perfect mug of coffee for a crisp fall day.

The whole house smells like the jasmine and sandalwood incense I’m burning…I love how the tangy, sweet smell of the smoke permeates everything in the house.

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This morning we went to church and I worked in the nursery. There’s a bit of a baby boom going on among my friends right now. Every time one girl has a baby, another announces she’s pregnant. It’s fun…all these kids and babies and watching families grow and change. Sometimes working in the nursery is completely exhausting because all the babies melt down at once and you’re left wiping tears and noses and wondering what on earth you did wrong. But this morning, it was fun. The kids were mostly good and it was nice visiting with the moms and watching them visit with each other. It made me really thankful for my church family and the little group of girls I hang out with here; their friendship means so much to me and I was reminded of that this morning.

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Last night we had dinner with Darren’s brother and sister and their families. We all live within 15 minutes of each other and I love the way we are able to spend time together and move in and out of each other’s lives. My sister in law made a big batch of chili and my brother in law made an apple pie. We all sat around eating and talking while the kids played on the floor. Our new baby nephew was passed around and held while the bigger boys climbed all over us and wrestled with each other on the floor. It was nice.

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I tell you all these bits and pieces because together they remind me of one thing…comfort. Our little home and mugs of hot coffee are comforting on this Sunday afternoon. Spending time with our friends at church was comforting this morning. Dinner with family was comforting last night. Even the cool weather and hot meals are comforting. And with all these bits and pieces that make up our normal, everyday lives–I’m thankful. Thankful for the comfortable, familiar things that settle our hearts and minds and for the weekends that give us a chance to rest and regroup before heading into another busy workweek.

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This is why God gave us a Sabbath–because he knows us and knows we need rest and refreshment. It has been good this weekend to be reminded of the simple gifts of home and family and to enjoy this day of rest in our little home.

Out of the Mud

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I have long loved the Scripture that reads,

“I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure” {Psalm 40:1-2}.

I have seen God in my life bring me up out of the pit, out of the miry clay and set my feet upon a rock. Often when I pray, I pray that verse back to God—thanking him for bringing me up out of a pit and building my life today on a rock. What I never exactly thought about though was the remainder of the passage which reads:

“He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see it and fear, and put their trust in the LORD” {Psalm 40:3, ESV}.

God has been good to me. He has brought me out of dark places into the light. He has brought me out of a pit and built my life on a rock. This is beautiful and humbling but it’s not all for my benefit. It is so people may “see it and fear [stand in awe], and put their trust in the Lord.”

God’s goodness to me is meant to reflect back on him. He has given me good things and brought me to a good place because he loves me and because such love and goodness are meant to reflect back on him, meant to draw people back to his love and the goodness he offers us all.

I often think of the verse,

“To whom much has been given, much more shall be required” {Luke 12:48}.

I have been given much in my life and much is now required of me in how I use what’s given. Does my life reflect back to the giver of all life?

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On Time Before Time

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I sit here tonight all cozied up on the couch with a book and a mug of hot chocolate—the real stuff, not the store-bought packets. Cocoa powder, sugar, and milk warmed together on the stove top. Heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar and vanilla whipped together into a fluffy cloud of heaven melt into the hot chocolate and I think I might be complete now.

I ran out to the car for something and had to put my weight into pushing open the front door against the snow that has accumulated on the porch. The snow is already up to the tops of my boots and the wind is swirling around like a sort of snow hurricane. It’s exciting {so long as you’re safe and sound inside with a good book and a proper mug of hot chocolate, that is}.

I’m reading Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. She writes:

“I stomped out the door, back into the car, still in my pajamas, and as I opened the garage door again, I stopped in my tracks. In the park across the street, one of the tallest trees, twice as high as a two-story house, was the brightest, most insane, lit-from-within red I have ever seen. And it took my breath away, for two reasons.

First, because it was so beyond beautiful, and second, because I had not noticed one step of its turning. I had been in and out of my driveway a zillion times in the last two weeks and could not have told you if the tree was even still standing or not. As I stood there in the driveway, I realized that I had stopped seeing the most important things to see.”

Reading that I was struck by how God had that tree ready just when she needed to learn something from it. God didn’t zap the tree and turn it red at that moment, no, he slowly, carefully turned it red one week at a time until it was just right at just the right moment. That took some thinking ahead and I think it interesting all the work and preparation that goes into the moments that stop us and teach us something about life, or God, or beauty just when we are most in need of such a lesson.

And I wonder what God is preparing right now while I sit here in a snow storm sipping hot chocolate. I wonder what tree he is growing or what person he is teaching that will someday cross my path and guide me when I most need some guidance. I wonder what God is planning ahead before I have any concept of a need that will someday be met, seemingly, in the nick of time.

God is working, he is moving. He is growing trees and people and directing so many paths and patterns and working all things out and together to meet up in just the right place, at just the right time.

And I think that is beautiful.

Don’t Waste Your Pain

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If you go through something terrible and don’t learn anything from it, you are wasting your own heartache. I believe everything that happens in my life, good or bad, is meant to change and instruct me.

The way I grew up was not easy, not terrible, but certainly not easy. Sometimes I look back and think life was unfair; I think I would have been better off if everything had gone differently.

On better days I look back and realize that all those hard times helped me become who I am. Not only am I stronger but I know now just how strong I can be. I know what I can do without. I know what life looks like from the other side and can better empathize with people. Yes, life could have been easier, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would have been better. I would not be who I am today had I traveled any other road.

Sometimes pain is the only teacher able to speak loudly enough to get my attention. C.S. Lewis said,

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

He’s right. The good things in my life keep me going but the bad things bring me to my knees and force me to grow and change in ways beyond my comfort.

I have a very good life but sometimes I get caught up in the things that are difficult, the things I would like to be different. Today I am reminded that every season of life is filled with purpose. There is something in today’s troubles that will instruct me in tomorrow’s troubles if I’m willing to learn and be made better by whatever I’m going through.

One thing I know for sure, I don’t want to go through a hard time for nothing. If I’m going to struggle then I at least want to come out on the other side having learned and changed into a stronger, more mature person.

Don’t waste your pain; use it, grow from it, be made better by it…just don’t ever waste it.

“I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.”

Donald Miller