Post Category → scripture

joy: a life of repentance

Sin certainly hampers joy, doesn’t it?

But: there’s the Cross.

I’m reminded of this as I ponder joy and the things that stand between it and me.

The cross means that the sorrow of sin is no longer where I have to live. Repentance restores joy.

Repentance is a process, yes, but it’s also quick. It’s saying, Yes, I sinned. Yes, I’m so sorry. Yes, I want to change. Jesus, cover my sin, and give me the grace to turn and walk the other way. Again. (And again. Oops — and again!)

Suddenly, amazingly, even my own sin need not steal joy away.

Repentance is a place I need to find more often. The Enemy wants to keep me from the throne of grace, make me think it’s not necessary. Blur the lines of sin and holiness. Make it sound like a huge ordeal that I don’t have time for.

Not true — none of it!

Repentance is taking His yoke. Shedding chains. Being made clean. Turning my face toward the sun. Stepping from the shadow into His healing love.

And all in a split-second! Isn’t that amazing? Why don’t I do it more often? Why do I trudge through sin — and then guilt, and then condemnation, and now I’m a slave again — when I could be living at a throne of grace?

So I remind myself, when I feel the weight of my own failures mounting — frustration, impatience, sharp words, rolled eyes, worry, stress — to just stop, repent, and have joy restored. Sometimes it’s easy. Sometimes I don’t want to repent, because it feels deceptively good to hold a grudge or a bit of anger and frustration. But that’s not abiding, and there’s no joy there.

Really, “repent” is just another way of saying “return to Jesus.” And that’s the direction I want to always be headed.

You will make known to me the path of life ; In Your presence is fullness of joy ; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever. –Psalm 16:11

zeal: for all seasons

Something stirred this thought again today, and so I share it:

We were exhorted yesterday, reminded of things we ought not forget, and yet somehow always do. I was listening, really listening, and I want to rise to the challenge to love Jesus according to His great example and not according to the world’s sensibility.

Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. —Rom 12.11 (ESV)

Zeal has nothing to do with physical age, spiritual age, season or calling. God doesn’t expect us to outgrow zeal along with Mountain Dew and Hilary Duff. He doesn’t think it’s another name for the bubble of bliss in which the newly saved walk. There’s no renouncement of it written into wedding vows, because it’s supposed to carry over from single to already-taken. And it’s not in the job description for youth pastors only, along with the ability to look way-cool.

It’s for all of us, all the time, until Jesus takes us home. It’s not a matter of style; it’s a matter of whether or not we’re spewn with great disgust from the mouth of God. The young can be filled with zeal, because it doesn’t require great wisdom and experience, but simply a revelation of God’s love. The old and arthritic can be consumed by it, because it’s not about dancing to the fast songs, but about a life that is poured out selflessly.

It’s about priorities, about fire in the bones, about being so wrapped up in the Second Coming that we sort of forget about prestigious college degrees, Pottery Barn couches, and making sure our kids don’t miss a season of soccer.

It’s about letting the embers of love be stirred so that we start to live like strangers and aliens, more like ambassadors; not so much for Now, more for Already and Not Yet.

(a repost from the archives.)

Therefore if you have been raised up with Christ, keep seeking the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. –colossians 3

joy: delight in His will

“I delight to do Your will, O my God.”

Why do I lose joy?

Perhaps because I need to be freshly filled with the Spirit.

And perhaps because I need to be reminded: it is the Lord Christ whom I serve. Seasons come and go, but joy doesn’t have to when I realize that I am called, fundamentally, to serving Jesus. Yes, I love this wonderful family! Yes, I love being a mother. I do! — far more than I ever could have imagined. But the thing that has continually been a source of joy, through every season, high and low, has been this: Doing the will of my Father. Knowing that I’m doing what God has asked me to do, and delighting in serving Him.

My soul delights to do God’s will. It just does. And sometimes, the cherubic face of my sleeping 3 year old just won’t cut it: my soul needs to know that I’m doing the will of God. No matter how menial the task, how exhausting the day, how buried the seed, I can find joy in the secret communion of my soul with Him: This is for You, Jesus.

And He smiles.

That brings joy.

joy: a fruit

There are just way too many nights that find me fried, frustrated, and happy to just hurry up and end the day. Usually that frazzled state of soul takes me by surprise — a quiet, peaceful, well-paced morning somehow just spirals slowly but surely, and suddenly I’m Mean Mama. Anybody? Just me?

It happens way too often. I’d reached Frazzled Status last night on our way out the door, and when I landed with three kids at church, I was strung tighter than a piano string. (I always think of that metaphor, because I can only imagine the damage one of those HUGE bass strings could inflict if it suddenly snapped. Not that me snapping ever does any damage. *wink*) Somehow, somewhere, my soul had a chance to take a deep breath, and the idea of joy came to mind. Joy. I want to be joyful. I have the best job in the world, you know? Why do I sometimes so lack joy?

Left to myself, I would rectify this situation in one of two ways:

— Berate myself for my lack of joy. Look at the three beautiful faces of my children, faces so quick to smile at me with twinkling eyes full of love, and say to myself, “What’s wrong with you? Get joy!” Wonder if they think I lack joy. Wonder if my husband thinks I lack joy. Wonder how terrible I am. Yup, I’m terrible. (Is this approach getting me any closer to joy?)

— Decide to be joyful. That’s it — from now on, I will be joyful. I will look for joy in my every day, because I know it’s there — it is! (Really! It is!) I just have to snap out of my Frazzled Status and see it, live in it, take it in, pour it out.

But there’s another conclusion. A better one. The error in my first approach is obvious. The error in the second is more subtle. See, joy is a fruit. Fruit is the result of the life of the Spirit. (We all know this, right? But maybe you have as much trouble living it as I often do.) I cannot bear fruit on my own. And when I get sidetracked with pursuing fruit, I end up frustrated and empty handed.

The answer is Jesus.

Instead of just looking for joy in my every day, I need to look for chances to say YES to the Holy Spirit. Yes, Holy Spirit, fill me, change me, be my source. Yes, I’ll meditate on Your Word, listen for Your voice, respond to Your guidance. Yes, I’ll sing a song of praise, put off heaviness, exalt You above this moment.

I want to be continually filled with the Spirit, continually looking at Jesus, continually experiencing the power of His salvation. Then there is joy. (And love, peace, patience, kindness…)

back in shape

Today, I realize how out of shape my soul is when it comes to spiritual work. (Ironically, this closely mirrors the physical reality of my current condition. Three kids has been fun, but exercise has been soooo far from my mind.)

And I know — give myself a break, right? I’m a mom of young kids. My days fly by in a blur of cuddling babies and pulling out my hair. It’s life right now. But here’s the thing: I hear, “Just do the best you can, ” and I translate that as, “You’re off the hook. Worry about it later.”

But I know better: it doesn’t work that way.

The “I’ll worry about it later” philosophy (in reference to spiritual things) assumes that the only thing against me is my own flesh. I’ll just put dealing with selfishness on the back burner for now; how much worse can it get, right?

Wrong. Because there’s something else against me. Someone. He doesn’t get a lot of attention in mommy blogs or popular parenting books, but that’s okay with him. He’d rather skulk around in the shadows, doing what he’s best at: making us forget he’s there.

Yes, I’m talking about the devil.

Because yes, he’s real. He’s out to destroy, and my kids, my husband, me — we’re all on his hit list. He seems to be unflagging in his energy and drive, too, which means while I’m giving myself a 9 month postpartum vacation, he’s taking advantage of every opportunity to whisper lies to my soul, doubt to my kids, seeds of destruction in my family.

I’m reminded the other night, as two older moms (mine included!) talk about standing strong for your family, that this warfare I’m called to do isn’t complicated. I do have three young kids. Fly-by days are my reality. His yoke is easy, His burden light — but it is still a yoke, and there’s still a field to plow. Jesus didn’t invite me to pluck daisies in the meadow with Him. And I’m challenged afresh: when an older mom says, “Do the best you can,” I need to do the best I can.

I need to pray in tongues…
I need to lift up my family to the Lord…
I need to read, memorize, and meditate on the Word — the sword, the truth that will protect and deliver me when the battle gets fierce…
I need to sing…
More.

Those aren’t hard things. They’re not easy, either (and there’s an enemy who wants to keep it that way.) But this isn’t a 3 hour quiet time regimen.

It’s doing the best I can: Scribbling a verse on a 3×5, making all the kids sit with a Bible story for 10 minutes so I can read, playing a worship song over the morning craziness of breakfast prep, praying every time I wash dishes.

Do I feel better when I’m working to include the disciplines of Christianity in my life? Yes. Do I feel better because it makes me a “better” Christian, or because I think God will be mad at me if I don’t journal for 3 months straight? Goodness, no! Discipline in relationships bears the fruit of intimacy — and I want to have a heart that is ready to hear and know the Holy Spirit.

Anyway, it’s time to get back in shape. I want to be ready to wield that sword with the best of ’em.

Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.

Easter, etc.

Lots of things get squeezed out of the routine these days. But one thing I miss is writing here regularly. Sure, I have my journal, but the bits of thoughts and prayers that land in there don’t begin to capture the life I’m living with this little family. And so. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that for a month, I’m going to write on this blog every single day. Even if it’s just a picture.

Phew. Here we go.

William. William makes my heart smile these days. Last week, I walked into the family room one afternoon and found that he had built a little pillow fort with Beatrice inside, and he was just having a blast talking to her and “playing” with her. She obliged by laughing and kicking her feet and seeming to be excited about whatever it was her brother was doing.

A few nights ago, we had big treat: a movie in the family room, and an assortment of chocolate-dipped butter cookies. I told the boys three each. And then I watched while William’s fingers hovered above the tin, not moving until he saw which cookie Jameson took, and then quickly grabbing the exact same kind. All three cookies matched. That’s my little William these days — suddenly wanting to be just like Jameson.

Today we sat on the couch and cuddled with his new Easter book for quite awhile, and when it was done, his sweet voice asked, “Mama? Can woo tuddle wid me for a few minutes?” (Translation: Can you cuddle with me.) Uh, yeah!

His eyes sparkle and his smirk is just the best. He’s stubborn and opinionated and totally content and skips through the house and makes “rushing wind” sounds whenever he runs. He’s the best little William.

We got dressed up for Easter. All of the clothes were ironed days ahead of time, and hanging in the closet of excited boys. Jameson’s first impression of his madras shirt was that it was too pink, but I said, “Oh, no! See, William’s looks like water, and yours looks like fire!” And that settled it — the shirt was officially okay. Can you believe the stuff you pull out of thin air when you’re a mom?

I set my alarm for almost an hour earlier than they usually wake up — and yet, one minute into my shower, two little sets of feet ran into my bathroom. “Mom, we’re ready to find our Easter baskets!” I stalled them as long as possible before they ran to wake up Daddy, too. We got to chase down clues outside and enjoyed beautiful spring sunshine. Just the way Easter should be. And when they finally found their baskets, well, I’ve never seen candy shoveled into mouths quite so quickly. Clearly they had discussed a game plan: Just go for it, before Mom even has a chance to say something like, “Only two pieces, boys.” Ha!

Celebrating salvation with our little family is so amazing. I look at these little faces, and my heart just aches to think of the world they’ve been born into, to know the horrific sin and brokenness they’re going to face out there — and even in their own hearts. How wonderful to know that there is a Savior who has placed His love on them, who is seeking their hearts, and whose love is stronger than death itself. I can’t protect them from the truth of sin, but I can point to Jesus.

Tonight, as I was kissing the boys good night, William grabbed Beatrice’s hand and said, in his sweet voice, “Jesus wuvs woo, Beatwice! Jesus wuvs woo!”

Yes, William, He sure does. And that’s the best — the only — thing worth knowing. He loves you guys.

Us:

The boys, in real life: