Post Category → faith

another ramble

Another goodbye early this morning: Louissa is on her way back East after a week of visiting her big sister.

I love my sisters. Every one of ’em.

So it goes without saying that I love Louissa, and I loved having her here with me.

As for what we did? It doesn’t amount to much in terms of fun reading. (Holding babies, picking up toys, buying groceries and turning them into dinner…) But it amounted to very much in terms of fun living. We did have one special day — a whole Saturday, just us and William, in San Francisco. Sunshine, perfect temps, strolling in and out of indie shops and creperies, and sitting on park benches watching the sun set and sailboats glisten in the Bay. And a fun, splurge of a dinner, just us. Yes, that was all very much fun. (Thank you, Ryan!)

Funny, though, how after only a week of her helpful company, I’m left feeling a bit like, How do we do this again? How do I do the laundry and baths and meals and cleaning and library and train sets by myself?

Part of me says to just dig in and work hard — there’s nothing you can’t do with hard work.

The other part of me says, honey, you need Jesus.

Yes, I could probably muscle my way through a much larger mountain of laundry. But I look at my little Jameson, so precious and unique and willful (and sinful) and I know you can’t just muscle your way through mothering. This isn’t just a Nose To The Grindstone sort of occupation; this is a Get God Every Day calling.

I realize as I lay in bed at the end of another day that these are winepress days. You know — squeeze and squeeze and squeeze till you pop, and what’s in there is what’s going to come out. Is it Jesus? In some seasons, I may have had the time and space to make sure the right stuff was spilling out. In these long, pressure-filled mama days, there’s no time for looking in the mirror at my soul to make sure nothing ugly is showing. Fact is, if there’s ugly inside, it’s on its way out. And my precious, precious children are the ones watching, receiving.

If that doesn’t make you desperate for God, I don’t know what will…

And so I find myself, in the midst of the constant giving and caring and correcting and confronting, desperately reaching for the life of the Vine. Wherever He is, I need to be there. Need to be there.

Jesus, be the center.

You are my supply
My breath of life
Still more awesome than I know
You are my reward
Worth living for
Still more awesome than I know

And all of You
Is more than enough for
All of me
For every thirst and
Every need
You satisfy me
With Your love
And all I have in You
Is more than enough.

roe v. wade

Brietta posted this today:

Proverbs 24:11
Rescue the perishing; don’t hesitate to step in and help.
If you say, “Hey, that’s none of my business,” will that get you off the hook?
Someone is watching you closely, you know–
Someone not impressed with weak excuses.

Sometimes we don’t know what to do, where to begin. It’s hard to wrap your mind around 50,000,000 babies being killed.

Today, let’s pray. It’s the greatest work we can do.

This morning I wake to another dark anniversary, and I feel insignificant, to say the least. I don’t even know what words I should cry out. I don’t know where to start.

But I know the One who does know the answer. He knows how to affect change. He knows which hearts to turn.

So I pray.

50,000,000.

Will you pray, too?

*****

[edited to add:]

There may be some who read this blog who find themselves on the pro-choice side of the equation. I wonder if we all understand the holocaust we’ve lived through? (We probably don’t; there’s certainly no effort on the part of NOW or Planned Parenthood to fully inform.) Here’s just a glimpse. Now imagine it times fifty million.

daily grace

Since getting home on the 1st, I feel like I’ve been the recipient of a million little graces every day.

Little graces like being able to enjoy an evening with candlelight, even when there are laundry baskets in the middle of the room. Like not noticing until last night that the house hasn’t been dusted since my mom did a run-through. Like being aware of how desperately the bathroom needed to be cleaned, but not losing my temper about it. Like being happy to make a pretty spot, and be able to enjoy it even when the house as a whole may not be orderly. Like ditching the clock and being happy that we’re dressed when we’re dressed, the beds are made when I get a chance, and I’m chipping away at the overall goal: living today. Like feeling initially flustered by William throwing up all over the couch this morning (in the midst of what already felt like a slowly fraying morning, if you know what I mean), deciding to just wash all of the cushion covers, and then realizing I’m really enjoying a day of granny afghans. Sort of cheerful. Sort of home.

Like just feeling like I’m able to settle into each day and be all here instead of scrambling so desperately to stay above water and way on top of things that my nerves feel wound tighter than the lowest note on a concert grand, and watch out or I might just break, and you know how much damage a flying piano string can do. Ugh. And yuck.

And I know it’s grace, because I haven’t really even been trying. My part has simply been to say, “Thanks God.”

*****

more grace in my life:

forgive the random nature.

Jameson is napping. William is sleeping in my arms. Ryan is at work. And I am sitting in quiet for the first time since December 1st.

Back to life as usual.

January is gray here. The lamps have been turned on since we woke up this morning, and will stay on until we go back to bed. The chill that creeps in is damp. This is our winter. (I like the clean snow. I like the sunshine that sparkles and dances and turns the world shades of pink. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s awfully nice to not trudge through parking lots of sandy salty yuckiness with groceries and babies and all that fun stuff.)

I feel a bit updated. I also feel the satisfaction of having beat the system, having procured my update at an outlet ($$ saved), on clearance (muchos $$ saved!). I’m not exactly a fashion plate these days, but once in awhile, it’s nice to feel in touch. I’m still in my 20s, you know. I may as well live it up.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. I think that maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to make some order out of this household chaos. My trouble is that once I get an idea of reorganizing or rearranging or somehow making my home better, I don’t want to do it; I want it done. And I chafe and inwardly fume at anyone and everyone who gets in my way. (This is bad, wrong, and sin, by the way.)

I don’t know if it’s new gifts, coming home after a month away, or a combo, but I’m feeling ready to purge. (Again. I’ve been purging since long before William was born!) Just feeling the weight and chaos of too. much. stuff. I find this is a bit difficult in this season of life. I want to say, “one toy in, one toy out.” I want to say, “If we don’t have room for it, it goes.” But on the other hand, we’re a young family trying to build a collection of books, toys, etc. And we’re in a small house that will inevitably one day be left for a larger one. How do you all handle these things?

Jameson sat at the table, coloring, and William was in his seat, quietly taking in the world around him, and I was at the kitchen sink, scrubbing onesies that had suffered damage during a blow-out. And I began singing, “I want to serve the purpose of God in my generation…” Yes. That’s what I want to do. Scrub, scrub. “Jameson, you are not allowed to break crayons. William, shhh, it’s okay, I’m almost done.” Scrub, scrub. Not glamorous, for sure. Hum drum, you might say. But Lord, if this is Your purpose for my life, I want to do it. I just want to serve You.

And, “I want to build with silver and gold…” I got to that part, and was challenged. This might be a pretty random application of that verse, but forgive me: I don’t want to scrub and shush and correct with fuming in my heart. I’m pretty sure such service will quickly be consumed like hay and stubble. I want to serve His purposes with a heart that says, “I delight to do Your will!” That shouldn’t be so hard. Really. He’s not [currently] asking me to do anything, you know, awful. In fact, most days, His tasks for me are pretty wonderful (love and respect a really good guy, love and nurture two adorable babes, and do my best to steward this house.)

Anyway, I’m glad to be reminded that today, my life can be lived not in vain. Because serving Him, doing His will, makes this fleeting life meaningful.

And I’m glad to be reminded that today, I can love Him as I serve Him. (Aren’t love and obedience inextricably connected?) Because you know what? I just want to love the Lord.

Don’t you?

from elisabeth elliot: live by the Word

I need this reminder over and over in my life. Ears get tickled too easily. Flesh looks for an easier way. Flagging perseverance wants something new.

But no. His Word is the only way.

(And, to those who follow me, I am reminded of my responsibility to accurately live the Word. Woe to me when I cause them to stumble… Serious stuff.)

“Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly” (Psalm 1:1, AV).

At a recent convention a young woman told me that her husband had wanted a divorce, but consented to see a Christian counselor before making it final. A member of the team in the counseling center told him that he himself was divorced and very happily remarried. That was all the husband needed. The man to whom he looked for help set the example he was hoping to find. Of course he went ahead and divorced his wife.

The twenty-third chapter of Jeremiah describes what is happening in our country today. The land is full of adulterers. Pastures have dried up. Powers are misused. Prophet and priest alike are godless, doing evil even in the Lord’s house. Jeremiah’s description of the prophets seems terribly fitting for some of those from whom Christian people are seeking guidance: “The vision they report springs from their own imagination. It is not from the mouth of the Lord…. To all who follow the promptings of their own stubborn heart they say, ‘No disaster shall befall you.’ But which of them has stood in the council of the Lord, seen him and heard his word? Which of them has listened to his word and obeyed?” (Jeremiah 23:16-18, NEB).

Here is a good test to apply to any of whom we seek counsel. Has this person stood in the council of the Lord? Seen Him? Heard His word? Listened and obeyed? Note the few who have actually paid a price for their obedience (like Jeremiah who was flogged, imprisoned, dropped into a pit of slime, etc.). These few are the ones to follow.

The chapter goes on to describe prophets who speak lies in God’s name, dream dreams, give voice to their own inventions, concoct words of their own, and then say, “This is his very word.” They mislead with “wild and reckless falsehoods.”

“If a prophet has a dream, let him tell his dream; if he has my word, let him speak my word in truth. What has chaff to do with grain? says the Lord” (v. 28).

Beware of those who are afraid to quote Scripture, who say it’s too “simplistic,” doesn’t apply here, won’t work. Beware of the counselor who is “nondirectional.” Be cautious when the advice given makes you feel comfortable when you know you’re really wrong. “Do not my words scorch like fire? says the Lord. Are they not like a hammer that splinters rock?” (v. 29).

It wasn’t only the awesome prophets of the Old Testament who spoke this way. Think of the words of Jesus. Though often He spoke “comfortable words,” words that brought peace and hope, He spoke also those words that seared like fire (“Depart from me, I never knew you”; “Get behind me, Satan!”) and splintered rock (“You will never get out until you have paid the last farthing”; “Whoever wants to be first must be the willing slave of all”).

“The form of words you shall use in speaking amongst yourselves is: ‘What answer has the Lord given?’ or ‘What has the Lord said?'” (Jeremiah 23:35, NEB).

This applies, of course, only to those who care what the Lord wants. Those who have already decided to do their own thing need not apply for truly godly counsel.