Love, for Cynics Like Me

"We love because he first loved us." 1 John 4:19

Love.

I shy away from this four letter word more than the others. Amazing how one little word can come with such baggage and freedom all in one tiny package.

I question the radio ad I hear that says the more we love, the more we will be loved. Sounds a bit self-seeking if you ask me. Call me a cynic (because that's what I am and yes, I pray about it) but is that true love?

I remember the day my dad first told me that he loved me. He sat in the worn recliner, crying. His father was dying. At eighteen I didn't know what to say so I sat and waited. I knew that he wanted to tell me something important. I'd never seen the old cop cry and have only seen it one time since.

He told me something that his father had just told him for the first time on his seventy-two year old death bed. "I love you." My stomach flipped, I repeated the words back to him, gave him a half hearted hug and walked away.

As I went off to college soon after, I heard the other girls in the dorm declaring their love for their parents on the line-demanding pay phone in the hall.

These words that were so foreign to my family. Forced words that seemed to be saved only for weddings and funerals.

Wanting to fit in with the other good Baptist girls I began to force the short little phrase into the goodbyes of my parental phone conversations. After all, the other girls were listening. To my surprise my parents began to say it back.

It all seemed so forced, but it was said nonetheless..."I love you, too."

Things have changed since my college days. We've walked through more weddings and funerals, and endless amounts of weekly phone calls. All ending in "I love you."

Its not forced anymore. It's out of a non solicited, genuine love. A love with baggage. A love with walls. But it's real love.


The First "I Love You"

Some of you have heard the tender words of "I love you" since the moment you caught your first breath. Yet others still await the words you've longed to hear since you were a child. But as you and I walk in the shadow of the cross we both hear the same sweet whisper from our Savior's lips, "You are my beloved child."

No matter how many or how few times we hear the enchanting words "I love you" here on this earth we know that there is only One that truly loves us. There is only One that can speak these words and fill our souls with a love that is pure and can never be taken back.

Christ's incarnation, life, death and ressurection were the first "I love you" spoken to this world. A gift of love from a God who longed to save us through His son.

-It was love that reduced Him to the size of a seed in His mother's womb.
-It was love that was helpless at the hands of first time parents, learning to eat, walk and speak.
-It was love that grew as a boy, being completely God and man, under the submission of sinful parents.
-It was love that perfectly served an imperfect family.
-It was love that resisted every temptation known to man.
-It was love that was falsely accused, mocked and beaten.
-It was love that went to the cross without opening His mouth.
-It was love that was humiliated and spat upon in open nakedness.
-It was love that saved the sinner next to Him while in suffocating pain.
-It was love that was separated from His Father, void of perfect fellowship for the first time.
-It was love that took the most tragic day in human history and redeemed it for my Salvation.
-It was love that united us to Himself, leaving with us the Holy Spirit so that He would still be near.

He loved me when I had no love on my lips, when the other four letter words outweighed the L-word.
He knew I'd struggle to love Him back yet He chose to love me.
He knew I'd love myself more than I love others yet He pursued me as His bride.
He knew I'd hate my enemies yet He chose to love me when I was His.


Had I never been ship-wrecked and rescued by the only One that loves without self, I would have never known how to love. I would have continued to tag the words on to the end of phone calls, weddings and funerals but only because I hoped to hear them returned.

And now I am free to say those three beautiful words, "I love you", all because and only because He first loved me. 

The Masks We Wear

I once had someone tell me that I should "fake it until I make it." I took those words to heart and flung myself into the art of mask wearing only to end up bound to legalism and fear. The Mask of Acceptability was only one of the many masks that I was proud to wear not realizing the implications that it had on the rest of the church body.

Steve Brown, in his wonderfully freeing book A Scandalous Freedom, encourages his readers to take off The Mask of Acceptability.

“When the requirement for acceptance in any particular group is to think certain thoughts, to act in certain ways, and to fit in certain molds-and we don’t think or act that way or fit the mold-we tend to fake it. We put on a mask that says, “I’m just like you. Now, will you please love me and accept me?” I can think of hardly anything that will kill your joy and freedom more than wearing a mask geared to get others to accept you because you are acting like them.

Allow me to let you in on a secret: Nobody fits the mold, and most of us wear the mask to cause others to think we do. The greatest tragedy of the church is that, in many cases, the most dishonest hour of the week is the hour we spend at church."

My friends, let's take off our masks of acceptability, get real and be free in Christ. We are doing a great disservice to ourselves and to one another when we pretend that we are something other than sinful moms who need Jesus and each other. Let's allow each other to be free! [1]

What masks do you see yourself wearing?

---

[1] Steve Brown A Scandalous Freedom(Howard Books, 2004),108

Dear Discouraged Moms,

I have heard that you are struggling to fight the funk that has found it's way to your doorstep, into your home and has met you lying in your bed paralyzed by the thought of facing the day. I am so sorry that you are feeling this way and can say that I can relate in every way.

There are days that I feel like my life as a mom is only an opportunity for failure. I long for peace from my kids so that I am not faced with the challenge of discipline yet I don't seem to ever come by it. I know what you are feeling when you say that you sometimes liken them to Piranhas and don't want to leave your room for fear of being attacked.

I imagine that most people you have heard from have offered advice. I have probably heard the same things myself in times of despair. Maybe you've been told that you must not be having faithful quiet times. Maybe you've been told to have a stricter schedule so that you always know what to do next. Oh and my favorite has always been, "Get some rest!" I'm not sure about you but not one of these remedies has ever pulled me from the pit. Are they good? Of course! But never the solution.

I hesitate to offer my advice but I feel that maybe you have not heard from anyone else what I am about to say. I write what I know as a desperate, broken mom who has found freedom in her beautiful, soul satisfying Redeemer and who wants you to find that freedom too. So may I?

In all the times that I have found myself in a funk that I can't debunk it has come from an obvious source; my incessant inability to believe that God is as good as He says He is.

I have spun my wheels going nowhere but further into the ground by trying hard to gain an acceptance that Jesus Christ has already earned for me. I convince myself that there is something more that I must do even though Christ is calling out for me to rest.

I fall into the trap of thinking that "IT IS FINISHED" was only about the end to Christ's suffering on the cross and not about the work that was completed on my behalf. So I toil and I worry about whether I'm doing enough to be called His beautiful daughter.

Continual thinking that I must do more and be better only produces two reactions in my heart and both are sinful. Either I fail at the work that I am trying so hard to produce and fall into despair or I triumphantly succeed and fall into pride. The pendulum of works swings wildly back and forth in my heart until I look to the cross to pin it down.

It's when the pendulum stops that I see how Christ's incarnation, sinless life, death and resurrection were so carefully executed on my behalf so that God in all of His blinding holiness could turn His face towards me. It's when I see the beauty of being hidden in the Cleft of the rock as protection, rest and comfort that I stop fretting. I am His.

This life that you are in dear friend is not your life. If Christ is your redeemer then your life is in Him. It is not what you do that makes you His beautiful daughter with whom He is well pleased. It is the fact that your life is Christ's life; Christ's life is your life. You have died and are now one with Him and that cannot be revoked. He is your new life. He is with you in your funk. He is praying for you, loving you and presenting you spotless and righteous before His Father.

Please stop believing the lies that others are telling you that you must work your way into His presence. Stop believing that you must work to keep your status. Stop believing that the work you do today; wiping faces, bottoms and floors must be done perfectly to keep His love. Dare to believe right now that nothing that you do today whether good or bad, or the attitude you have today joyful or resentful, will change the way the Father loves you. Rejoice in His outrageous grace!

And with only having said an ounce of what I think you should hear I pray that your hearts would be comforted by the gospel. Go now...rest in His finished work and believe that God really is as good as He says He is.

Love,
A mom that cares

Moving Out Of Funky Town

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. John 8:36

My heart has been living in the slum of Funky Town.

I look at my house and wonder why I can't keep up. I vow to do better tomorrow.

The giant Wrestle Mania sticker remains stuck to the wood floor. Not quite my decorating style, but seeing it there exhausts me. I know it's going to take time and energy to get that up. I tell myself I shouldn't be so lazy.

I go to bed exhausted and overwhelmed and wake up in the morning no different.

I scold myself when I see Justin digging in the dryer for underwear. I must do better. If only I would take better care of him. I tell myself to be a better wife.

I am worn down by the ever changing needs of my kids. Grace for them is hard to find and I want to ignore their needs. I tell myself to be a better mom.

I'm spinning my wheels.

Eat better.
Sleep better.
Clean better.
Love better.
Do better.

This becomes my mantra throughout the day.

Where is my freedom?

Freedom from having to earn my way. Freedom from the need for spotless perfection.

Why must I put myself in this prison again? Why am I trying to earn a freedom that I already have? Have I forgotten who I am?

I am living as though my salvation lies within. As though if I can just "do better" then I will gain the stamp of approval.

And then someone brings me the gospel.

I hear the words of Jesus' incarnation, sinless life, death and resurrection. For me; all for me!

Had I been able to be the wife, mom or person that I desire to be Jesus would have died in vain (Galatians 5:21).



My hope in myself fades and I face my day in a different light. The spotlight that I put myself in is turned to Jesus. My joy begins to return and rest comes quickly.

It has been done. There is no need for my perfection, I can stop trying to attain it. I rest in His completeness.

Telling myself to "do better" one thousand times a day is no more than a ploy of guilt to get my act together.

My act is already together.
I've been called righteous.
I am free from the voice of condemnation that demands my perfection.

In the midst of the chaos I find Him. Leading me, loving me and whispering His promise of "It is Finished" in my ear.

It's time to move on, pack my bags and move out of Funky Town.

I am ready for a day with much work to be done. Ready for a day that no longer seems impossible.

I am free.




Your turn:

How do you get out of funky town? What changes your heart when you get the "do better" blues?





photo credit

Christ in a Motor Home

As our family travels up the great state of California motor home style, involuntarily taking in the smell of cows, onions and whatever else it is that they farm in the central valley, we have grown. Grown Rather grumpy, impatient and selfish that is. Cramming the six of us and a dog together for hours on end sure brings out the yuck.

As I write I have a six year old singing in my ear. Literally in my ear! And when she's not singing she's whining about how she doesn't like the movie and when she isn't whining she is making grunting noises or talking to herself. That's how she rolls. She wants to be heard. Always.

From the back comes the complaining of my four year old because he wants to unbuckle to get a toy just like his sister just did.

The dog is eating the dropped snacks off the floor and someone keeps yelling, "I can't see!" Oh and I can't forget my oldest child who is freaked out about the whole traveling in a motor home thing. Anxious about every noise and bump and intolerant of us all.

But we're making memories y'all (no I'm not from Texas, I've just always wanted to say that).

I look over at Justin who's been so quiet knowing that he is struggling with patience and holding his tongue unlike me. I say something along the lines of, "NEVER AGAIN." He smiles knowing that I don't really mean It.

It's always on these trips that my attitude falls into a sink hole and I decide that our family needs to make some major changes. It's when I decide that we must be the biggest sack of complaining losers this side of the Mississippi. It's when I try to play the role of the Holy Spirit.

So as I feel the need to correct every comment, every intolerant sigh, every complaint over someone touching someone else I become exhausted. I forget to rest. I forget that I am not in control.


I forget about the outrageous grace that is given to this family of six.


It's in these moments when our hearts are being pushed, punched and twisted by the temptation to look only to ourselves that I am reminded of His grace. He never tells me that this is the last trip He'll take me on. He doesn't look at me in exhaustion saying, "Never Again". He doesn't throw his hands up and declare that He can't take it anymore.

No, He simply washes my feet over and over again.

And when I think of my beautiful Savior, a King worthy of all praise on His knees washing the filth from this impatient, irritated mom I can't help but want to do the same for the little girl who's feet keep migrating to the back of my head. Ew!


My desire to say "No" to my flesh and "Yes" to the Spirit increases, not by trying to be a better mom but by remembering His perfect love for this imperfect family.

How to Keep a New Year's Resolution

As I get to the end of this year and read the world's lists of resolutions I can't help but feel like a bit of a loser because I just don't seem to care.

I have no interest in trying harder in 2012. I have no desire to write out a list of what I want to do better this year.

Of course there are things I want to accomplish including writing a book and homeschooling my fifth grader without killing myself. I'm confident that I will accomplish these goals because I am pretty certain that God has called me to do them and He will be faithful in helping me. But really there's just no desire here for much else.

Sure I think it would be great if this was the year that I got in shape or made it past Numbers in my Bible reading plan. But I highly doubt that writing these things down on a list again will get me any further than it has in the previous years.

So what do you think? Am I a loser because I lack motivation to better myself? Is my negativity bringing you down?

I use the words loser and negative because that's what the world would call me but in reality I have much more hope for myself than that. Some may be thinking that with an attitude like mine I will never change or better myself. I'll never grow past where I am in life.

But honestly in all of my list making experience I've never seen much change by trying harder to do better. Oh sure it lasts for a while like everyone else. I hit the gym the first few weeks in January only to end up back on the couch. I say no to the sugar and caffeine only to end up in the Starbucks drive-thru with a vente frappawhatever after I've been up all night with a sick kid. I sleep through the 5:00am alarm to get up and pray because my insomnia gets the best of me. Whether its feeling as if I've failed or feeling proud and self-righteous because I've succeeded, my heart remains unchanged.

But like I said, I have hope. I know that I will change this year. I know that I am growing and being sanctified daily because that is what He has promised me. Even in the years that I had completely given up on life He was kind to change me. 

I can rest knowing that I don't have to earn my way into God's favor in 2012 because I cannot gain or lose ground with God. Failures, successes, whatever comes my way I will remain in His love and His face will never turn away from me. I am His beloved daughter.

There is a list that's already been written. It has spelled out every good and perfect thing that I must do to be acceptable. It's like the New Year's Resolution List Extraordinaire. I look at it and I'm crushed. Love your neighbor, do not be jealous, love God with all your heart it goes on and on. I can't even begin to do these things well; I've failed before I have even started.

There is One and only One who has kept the list of perfection. Jesus never had to make a single New Year's resolution. He never had to try harder to be a better person; to sin less and love more. But at the cross He chose to take my identity as one who can never get it right no matter how many years I put it on a list and in exchange He gave me His identity of the perfect list keeper.

I don't have to make a do better list. I don't have to look inward and find the courage to love myself more. I don't have to put post-it notes around the house reminding myself of the promises I have made to be a better person. I have Christ who has set me free from the need of constant self-improvement. It is Christ who will work in me to complete a good work this year.

And if I don't get any better this year He will love me the same as He did yesterday, today and forever.

My list has been completed. He Has torn it up, thrown it in the fire and dared me to be free.


Now where's that protein shake?!


photo curtousey of Flood

His Story

Last night ended in tears.

Yes, many an evening has had me in tears…tears of frustration, tears of pain, or tears of sheer exhaustion. These weren’t the hot tears of anger nor the free flowing tears of sadness. These tears were ones that have dripped into my heart carving out a special spot to always be remembered.

As I lay on the couch in exhaustion, watching TV and reading my emails I became overwhelmed. I was overwhelmed by how completely and utterly I am loved by my Savior. A Savior that has given me His story to tell, something to live for, something to hold on to.

I had the opportunity to share with the women from my church this past weekend something that I never thought I had until recently, a testimony. As I stood in front of eighty women and my pastor...

Can't wait to hear what happens next? Finish reading my guest post over at (in)courage.

When I Think I'm Better Than You

I stood in line at the drugstore. Cheap wine and a bottle of tums in my left hand, the arm of a floppy four year old who would not stay upright in the other. Not quite feeling put together like the person that my self-righteousness has carried into that same store many times before. I felt just as weak as the lady in front of me who was buying six packs of her favorite cigarettes and some breath spray. Just as weak as the man behind me waiting to pay for his antidepressant and whiskey.

Maybe this isn't how you'd picture this lover of Christ. Nothing about me shouted believer in the store that day.

Nothing.

Maybe that's good.


As I stood there in line I was tempted to wonder how I looked to those around me. After all, if I was standing in line at a homeschool conference, private school spelling bee or women's ministry event; unshowered annoyed and grasping a bottle of wine while impatiently pulling my four year old up off the floor by his arm, I would certainly not have impressed anyone.

Real never impresses.


Nobody knew my story and frankly nobody cared. The wine; bought to replace the one that fell out of the back of my car and smashed in the grocery store parking lot early that week. The kid; a late night party and early morning left him obedience impaired as his body became a wet noodle in exhaustion. But like I said, no one cared.

Except for maybe me.

Maybe just a little.

Perhaps my own self-righteousness was once again wanting those around me to think I was better than them. In my heart of hearts I was truly ashamed that I didn't appear any different. How's that for being honest?

You see, I still feel that obligation to impress.  We all do, but as Christians we falsely believe that we are impressing others when they notice our behavior. We somehow relate our manners and politeness to the amount of godliness within us. We tell our children things like, "Using our manners shows others that we love Jesus." or "They will know we are Christians by our cheerful attitude." We believe that if we dress nicely and don't dye our hair purple then we are somehow more righteous than the rest.

What about the atheistic, humanitarian family that has taught their children to be just as cheerful and well mannered and that they should love others too. There's plenty of polite people out there that don't love Jesus.

While this is not meant to be a post about politeness or parenting it goes to say that there is a disconnect in our hearts between the things that we do and the God that we love. I love my God and one of the reasons that I am free today is that I understand that I will not always be a picture perfect representative.

I am a real person with real needs and real weaknesses just like the people I stand in line with. I don't know their hearts but I do know mine. It is a weak and sinful heart unworthy of the status that He has given me. Yet He loves me in my weakness, He desires me when I look down on others and fight to push my way to the top. He gets me when I say "I'm better than you." I am His, covered in His blood, wrapped in a robe of His righteousness.

And when I think I should look, smell or smile differently than I do He reminds me that He has made the only impression that matters. And that final impression was made for me, becoming mine.

Because of Christ...I have no need to impress.

The Gospel for the Good Mom

I hate that I can't sleep. I'm tired of watching reruns of The Office.  I was tired when I went to bed. Dead tired like every other night. But once the lights are off my mind is on, ready to make big out of what is little.

I replay the stupid question that I asked that was never answered and wonder what others thought. I remember that the kids' lunches aren't packed and that my mom is sick. I hate my apathy for buying Christmas gifts and wonder why I find gift giving such a bother. But even more, I hate my newly discovered cynicism. I barely know what that means but after looking up the definition on Wikipedia I think that God might just be right about me.

I wonder if I'm well liked, I wonder if what I wrote or said today offended or impressed. I'm obsessed with myself when the lights go out. Obsessed with wanting approval so that I can sleep peacefully. If everyone is happy with me; my husband has his needs met, the kids are content, then I can rest.

But is that really it? Is my sleep contingent on how I am esteemed? Better yet is my happiness dependent upon others approval?


My desire to be good hunts me down and finds me lying awake at night. Good inasmuch as my identity. "Good Wife", "Good Friend", "Good Mom", "Good Writer", "Good Daughter", "Good Christian" good, good, good.

And when I can't prove myself worthy of these titles I scramble. I get to work trying to find ways to approve of myself, to earn my standing. But this all seems a bit far from the gospel if you ask me. Is good really what I need to be?

What happened to my true identity? Do I hang that on the back of the bathroom door before I climb into bed? Does my memory fade in the horizontal position?

I find myself wondering who I am, scheming to be better in the morning and then I stop. I am drawn to prayer. Asking Him to remind me of who I really am. I'm not going to wake up in the morning as "Mom Extraordinaire" my husband will have no reason to bow down to a "Wife Above Rubies" I will not have published a book in my sleep becoming an "Influential Writer".

No. I will wake up as me. A "Sinful and Flawed yet Loved and Welcomed, Righteous Daughter." A title that cannot be stripped, destroyed or forfeited. A title that needs no living up to. One that cannot be gained or lost in the midst of a sleepless night. I am His and He keeps me. I cannot be unredeemed.

I need no other approval then that of the only One who's approval matters. And that approval I have a gazillion times over. I need not be esteemed by anyone but the one who has diligently pursued me since the dawn of time. In His love I remain forever and always not because I have done good, not because I am doing good and not because I will be good but only because He is good.

Good when He came to earth, was born and placed in a manger.

Good when He lived sinless, perfectly loving those who hated Him.

Good when He was mocked and spit upon.

Good when the scourging He endured ripped into His flesh exposing His true human state. A body that He suffered in for me.

Good when spikes were driven through His flesh, muscles, tendons and joints to secure Him to the beam of His death.

Good when the sky turned dark. Pitch black. Forsaken, bearing the weight of my sins.

Good when in the darkness He suffered the agony of being separated from the perfect and complete union with the Father.

Good when He rejoiced in His suffering, knowing it was right for our sake.

Good when He called us His brothers and sisters.

Good when it began.

Good when it was finished.

And He continues to be good. Calling us righteous, serving us through the Spirit. Interceding on our behalf.


Lying awake at night, trying to prove myself as good melts away in comparison to this. No, I'm not good. No, I don't need to be good. There is only One who is truly good so that I don't have to be. And now I am free to sleep knowing His goodness is mine and will always be.

Grace for "One of Those Days"

This morning I was met with "one of those days".

One of those days that the tears sit in the gutter along your lower lid waiting for a blink to push them out. One of those days that you rack your brain to find an explanation for your urge to fall apart. A continual holding it together hoping to avoid a trigger because if you cry you can't say why. You know...just one of those days.

It's a day where I feel confined when I'm really not. The pain in my back keeps me from from doing as I wish and even doing as I need. My little buddy can't understand why I don't want to push him on the swing and he doesn't want to watch as much TV as I need him to.  He asks why we are doing preschool from the couch again.

It's one of those days that I have learned to stop asking "why?" A day that I learn that we will indeed survive if no one does the dishes and the laundry waits. It's a day that I learn patience, give up the guilt and wait. A day to listen, a day to petition. Not a day to figure it all out.

These are the days that  His promises become real. This is the time that I am grateful to have read Luther and gained the freedom to rest. The time to say "no" to the law that heaps on guilt and "yes" to the grace that sustains me. This is when I call upon what I have learned about my justification, sanctification and my identity as His daughter. It's when theology is lived out and why I'm glad it's in my heart. If it depended on me to "work for God" today, oh what guilt would await me.

This is a day that the gospel of grace tells me that I am still loved and accepted even when I don't live up to the demands of the day.  This is when just being His daughter, resting my head on His chest and waiting it out brings me close to Him.

These are the days when my couch becomes an alter of praise.

The Gospel for the Grumpy Mom

It's always hard coming back to a house full of kids after being away serving myself for three days. I love my kids, miss them while I'm gone, and thoroughly enjoy every moment of freedom that I have when I'm not with them.

Therefore, coming home is always an adjustment. 


As Justin and I traveled home from an amazing three days of rest we received a phone call from the in-laws. The amazing in-laws that agreed to stay with the kids one more night so that we could extend our trip, the amazing in-laws that had all of our laundry done and house cleaned when we returned. I was glad to know that the string of uh-ohs I overheard Justin repeating were not because a child had broken something or someone but rather our suburban had broken down. But none the less this was a big uh-oh. 

After returning home I spent the morning on the phone and met a tow truck, talked to the mechanic and retrieved forgotten car seats. Quite the contrast to my weekend. My four year old finally had enough of my neglect and made sure that I knew it.

I was exhausted, disappointed and just plain grumpy.

My grumpiness followed me to bed that night along with my old friend guilt. The list of "should haves" ran through my head waking me up the next morning. By then I had just decided that it wasn't possible for me to live with my children without being grumpy. I had given in to the lie that grumpy is who I am and that's who I will always be.


I was mean to them getting out the door, blaming it on the stress of having my parents flying in that morning, blaming it on their foot dragging and complaining. 

Arriving at school I asked for the forgiveness of my all too frequent morning grumpiness and it was met with the usual forgiving smiles of their sweet faces. That's when it changed. That's when I started to smell the smoke of the lie I had been living in.

Sitting in the car wash annoyed with my four year old, Christ reminded me of who I Am. I am His. He loves me in my grumpiness. He adores me when I am unlovely. He sings over me when I am miles away from praising Him.

Through Him I have been made righteous.

I'm not grumpy. That's not who I am. I am loved, redeemed and forgiven. My identity is not in what my attitude is and whether I am remembering to be thankful. It's Christ that defines me. It's His forgiveness, acceptance and love that I am called to live in.

And do you know what happens when I think on these things? My heart softens and thankfulness replaces complaining. I repent and draw close to the one that I was ignoring thinking He was disappointed. I soften toward my children. I look forward to seeing my parents.

My grumpiness can't help but melt away as I think about how much I have been loved.  

It's His love that breaks me from my cycle of self-pity. It's His love that gives me the power not to be grumpy. To know that I can never disappoint Him, to know that my attitude hasn't pushed Him away is the one and only thing that will get me home with a smile.

Love Pursues

As I bustle about my day, baking pies, smashing sweet potatoes and enjoying my parents' company a friend is in Uganda fighting to bring home her little girl.

After being in Uganda for seven long weeks pursuing the little girl that she loves my friend is told that the United States will not grant her a VISA.

We need to pray!

My friend has pursued this little girl, she has done everything she can for her, she desires her, loves her and calls her daughter. She longs to bring her home into her family. Her brothers and sisters long to share what they have been given with her. A beautiful picture of what Christ has done for us.

He pursues,

Never gives up,

Calls us His own and brings us into His family, lavishing us with all that is His.

Please, please pray for this family. They long to bring her home and give her all that is theirs. Please pray that the Lord would move quickly. And if you have prayed will you please share?

Failure, Fear and Freedom

This week I am happy to present to you a guest post from Amy Kannel. Please go visit Amy at her blog Lavender *Sparkles* and say "Hi." Thanks for sharing with us Amy!


Motherhood has laid me low like nothing else.

Over the last four years, God has used two precious little boys to humble me to the dust, to expose just how "false and full of sin I am," just how inadequate and helpless and dependent I am, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. I have, to be totally honest, hated it at times for that very reason. I don't like being brought face to face with the reality of what a mess I am, what a failure I am and how totally I screw up all the time.

And if I don’t like knowing how far I fall short, I certainly don’t like for others to know it. I want to be the mom people admire; I want to have the kids everyone finds delightful. Instead, those around me see me fumbling and stumbling, no more awesome in this parenting gig than I was four years ago when I held a tiny newborn and wondered, “What have we done?”

So when I am full of despair at how little I have grown and changed in the last four years…when I am embarrassed by my children’s behavior or fearful of how other moms are judging me…I have only one place to go.

“In the fear of the LORD one has strong confidence, and his children will have a refuge” (Proverbs 14:26).

When I look to God alone in reverence and awe—when I believe that His judgment, His truth alone is authoritative, and no one else’s opinion matters—when I find my identity and status and worth in Him alone—then I can have strong confidence. Not confidence in myself or in my ability or methods, but confidence in His mercy and grace, in His love for me as His daughter, in His acceptance and approval of me because of Jesus, in His promises to give me all that I need and to complete the good work He began in me.

To fear man in my parenting, to obsess over the opinions of others, will only bring grief and pain to my children. It will cause me to act not out of my convictions about what is best for them, but out of what will make me look good to those watching. It will cause me to resent my boys when they make me look bad, and to respond to them with anger and frustration instead of patience and compassion and gentleness. It will burden them with the crushing weight of my reputation, my identity, my happiness—burdens they were never meant to bear.

But if I will fear the LORD instead, I can give my children a refuge instead of a burden. I can show them the joy and freedom and rest that come with living for God rather than living for the approval and acceptance of fallible men. I can love them unconditionally, in the midst of their misbehavior and sinful hearts, because that's how He loves me. I can breathe a sigh of relief in knowing that my standing before Him does not depend on how my children act. I can extend to them the mercy and patience and compassion that He extends to me. I can lead them to the cross, where we both can find help and hope as desperate sinners in need of grace for forgiveness and transformation. And they can learn that if you place your hope and trust in the loving, wise, sovereign God who plans all things for good, you have nothing to fear.

Bad is Better

As I promised, here is a fabulous guest post by Brenda Jung. Brenda's authenticity and understanding of God's outrageous grace for sinners makes her blog OPEN KIMONO a must read. Go on over, look around and make sure to say "HI!"

Bad is Better.

If you are willing to be a “bad” Christian, you are ready to be a true Christian. If you insist on being a “good Christian,” you will never get on your way to experiencing a real life of faith. The pursuit to be a good Christian is an illegitimate quest. You must be a bad Christian or no Christian at all.

“All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away” (Isaiah 64:6).

When we set out to follow Christ, sometimes we expect to look like a champion marathoner. We envision ourselves running steadily on a dirt path through a beautiful amber canyon at dawn, a bird chirping while a gentle wind conveniently nudges us forward. But as many of us have already experienced, there is a gap between the ideal and the actual—between fantasy Christianity and real Christianity. Instead of running like Olympian Florence Griffith-Joyner (“Flo-Jo”), we run like a college freshman making a mad dash for the campus shuttle that is pulling away from the curb. Complete with spilled coffee on our shirt, heavy backpack slugged over one shoulder and arms flailing, we yell, “Wait!”

And we wonder: Am I going to be a rookie-Christian forever?

The short answer is: Yes. When we recognize Jesus Christ as the only "expert" Christian, we will realize that even the best we can offer is not so hot. Nobody has it together. Not Billy Graham, not Charles Spurgeon, not R.C. Sproul, not even Mr. Mere Christianity himself, C.S. Lewis. Only Jesus had it together. No believer will ever "arrive" at the apex of discipleship; only Jesus arrived. On the spectrum of Christ-likeness, every one of us will (for the rest of our lives) have to settle somewhere in between total success and total failure.

I find being a rookie-Christian repulsive, and yet...strangely attractive. Rookies are amateurs. Goof-ups. Immature and inexperienced. These are not words I would choose to describe the kind of person I aspire to be. In fact, these are words I would use to describe a “bad Christian.” There is nothing initially appealing about being a rookie; that is, until you consider the qualifications required to be a "good Christian.” Think of it. To be considered a good Christian, you’d have to think all the right thoughts, say all the right words, do all the right things and have all the right motivations—all the time. Basically, you'd have to be Jesus. If that attempt isn’t a slow and painful death, then I don’t know what is! And yet, so often I place this heavy yoke of being a good Christian on myself. So often, in my efforts to be a faithful, worthy disciple, I end up killing myself. Because in order to be good, holy, upright and blameless, I have to resist my humanity, deny my limitations and suppress my fears. On top of that, I have to feed a secret desire to be like God. Having it "together" comes at a high—yes, impossible, price.

God loves rookies. God loves those who stumble toward Him. The beauty of the Gospel is this: We do not have to be Jesus. But we do have to be His disciples: imperfect, fallible, selfish and sinful, yet deeply loved, always accepted and ever changing to be more like Christ. We do not have to get over our weaknesses; we only have to get used to them. A pastor once said, “We live and minister out of weakness.” Every time I remember this, I breathe a sigh of relief. Christian growth is not turning every one of our weaknesses into strengths, but learning how to live with our weaknesses, and even with some of our sins. If we want to be a real Christian, we must learn how to be a weak person: dependent as a branch, malleable as a heap of clay, needy as a baby. When we realize that we bring nothing to our relationship with God except a broken heart and contrite spirit, it is then we will experience God’s grace to be sufficient, and God’s love to be unfailing. Paul understood this, saying, “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10, emphasis added).

We should be grateful that God never asks us to "get it together." He only asks us to admit our need for the One who had it together and allow Him to represent and change us. Believe it or not, God is content with our needs and our shortcomings. He proved this by choosing to die for us when we were in our worst (but also our truest) condition—while we were sinners. Chances are, you are still a sinner.

And the last time I checked, I'm still one, too.

Gospel Gatherings

Happy Friday everyone!

I just thought I'd throw together some gospel centered, grace filled resources that have encouraged me this week. I hope you are as encouraged as well.

*If you haven't heard, Tullian Tchividjian's new book  Jesus + Nothing = Everything was released this week. Go get yourself a copy and be soaked in God's ever welcoming love for you.

*Steve Brown always has it going on over at keylife.org. I love listening to his podcasts in the car and my kids are quite fond of his voice and his stories. I've been especially blessed by his Scandalous Freedom series and I know you will be too.

*Brenda over at OPEN KIMONO will be guest blogging for us next week. Look for her great post Bad is Better here on Monday morning. And while you are waiting go visit her blog for other great posts.


Now it's your turn. What have you read, watched, or listen to this week that have encouraged you to find Christ in the chaos of your week?

Giving Up and the Gospel

Found this on my camera from the pumpkin patch...pretty much somes up my week.

I gave up today.

I didn't want to do it anymore.
You know, the whole Christian walk thing. Trying to be a good mom, trying to do it all well.

Maybe it was the emotions of having watched my husband being taken away in an ambulance last night. After all, watching the one you love the most swell up before your eyes is an alarming experience.

Things like that hit you the next day; realizing that without medical care you would have lost him.

Maybe I used the stress and the tiredness of the night as an excuse.

Or maybe the unexpected night away with my husband was the cherry on top of my week of defeat. Not quite what I had in mind when I said we needed to get away together soon.



The trip to the pumpkin patch seems fun until your child spits in the mouth of your sweet friend's boy and you become angry and harsh.

All is good until your child yells at the same sweet friend's daughter and you become angry and harsh.

Then you run over her gate with your car as you are leaving, feeling like a wrecking crew and wondering why she puts up with you.


Your at a breaking point. Your sin consumes you. You want to give up.

You've spent the week in exhaustion; over committed, under organized and wondering why you can't do "it" right like other people. Whatever "it" is.

You've been ungracious, unloving and unkind most of your waking hours. Your husband disagrees but you know the gutter your heart has been in.


I know I'm not supposed to give up. I'm supposed to "fight the good fight", "run the race" and know that "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

But GLORY!

How's a girl supposed to do it?! Laundry, cooking, driving, teaching, sex, dishes, writing, listening, encouraging, being nice. It all seems so big when you've been up all night. Am I right?

So I give up.

There's Something to be said for giving up. Something that others won't say.

Preaching a try harder/do better self sermon is not the remedy. I know, I know...where's the positive thinking? Where's my "can do" American spirit? Well, it's at the bottom of the dumpster hanging out with all of the other worldly advice that I have adopted as a Christian.
The stuff that I've since thrown away.
Adding only drives me to pride or despair.

I'm over it.

You see, it's not until I give up my efforts to do this christian life right that I break and see the glory of Christ.

So I give up doing and remember what's been done.

I give up working and start resting.

I give up comparing and start being.

I give up pretending and start living.



And then it comes to me, He has been rejoicing over me all week! He's been loving me when I haven't loved others, he's been singing over me when I've been harsh, He has adored me when I haven't been adorable. All of this brings me to my knees. Amazed at His relentless grace. A grace that increases in my weakness.


A grace that increased after doing it right for this sinner.

A grace that showered me after dying a death to make me acceptable.

And a grace that remains after ascending; loving to love me, as if the first two were not enough.



In all of my sin and weakness this week I've remained in Gods favor. I don't have to make any payment for my mistakes.

I am covered.

And when I think about this...the shedding of blood, the forgiveness and righteousness given to me as an act of grace and mercy, I fly to Him. His kindness leads me to repentance and calls me into obedience.

 

Grace, grace, God's grace.

  Grace that is greater than all our sin.

Irresistable Motherhood or Irresistable Grace?

I just yelled at my little boy.

On the driveway.

In front of all the kids.

Strawberries covered the gravel and my little girl had just finished picking up the box of cherry tomatoes that she had dropped.

I didn't wait for the whole story, I just knew that they had argued over who was going to carry them in and there were strawberries everywhere. So I blew. I gave into sin and chose to belittle my boy and make sure he knew I was disappointed. He cried and I walked away.


Great mothering.



I have an extra kid this week. She's the one who kept saying that after being in our home she no longer wanted to be the mother of four kids, until I told her to stop. She hasn't said it while staying with us this time...yet.

So all in all I haven't really made motherhood irresistible to this little girl or to my own girls for that matter.

But wait, I didn't realize I was supposed to. I didn't know that I was supposed to make it look breezy and delightful even when it's not. I was just being a mother. One who loves her children, no doubt.

Let me tell you something, I HATE my sin. I hate when I choose to disobey. I hate when I hurt my children with my words.

Is it really up to me to make sure these girls desire children of their own by my outstanding performance? Does that really lay on my shoulders? Because if it does its awfully heavy; awfully oppressive and guilt inducing.

Now if you ask some they may tell you that yes indeed it does. Maybe not directly but I know, I've read it.

I love my girls. I desire the best for them but reality is that they have a sinful mom in constant need of a Savior. Yes, there are days that I may look like an old worn out goat because mothering is hard...life is hard. It's on those days that I ask my girls to pray for me. I sin against them and then repent asking for forgiveness and telling them about the ridiculous grace that God provides for me when I don't find joy in my calling that they see His grace is irresistible.

It's Christ that I want them to see. Not a mommy that does everything with a smile and never complains. That would be lying.

I'm finding that the more I am living in the gospel of His grace the quicker I am to run to my kids and ask for forgiveness. Just like I did minutes after the strawberry incident. The more I am resting in His grace for me the more I want to tell them how wonderful of a Savior that I have. One that loves this mommy that sins.

My friends, it's Christ and Christ alone that is to be made irresistible in our home and the only way to do that is by pointing our girls towards His irresistible grace, not to our own irresistible mothering.

And them desiring children?  I'll let the holy spirit take care of that when the time comes.

Free Parenting

Every day when we come home from school I let the kids end our twenty minute drive doing something that, quite honestly, has become so enjoyable for me that I don’t ever want them to stop. As soon as we hit the dirt road they start begging to unbuckle their seat belts. They can’t get out of those seats quick enough and scramble to get the windows rolled down. Then they take their positions and proceed to “hang” out the windows. I love to look in my rear view mirrors and see them in all of their glorious freedom. It truly highlights their day and mine as well.

I love the quarter mile of freedom to do something unusual, something exciting that feels a bit scandalous. I love that I am free to let them do it. I love to crank up the radio as we go and wave at my neighbors as Tom Petty escapes through our the windows.

But just yesterday the excitement of the freedom began to wane. The kids started leaning too far out the window and I had to start setting some boundaries to reign them in. “Both feet on the floor.” There, that will keep them grounded and make it so that they don’t get too free because too free is dangerous.

If I were free, I mean really free as a parent what would that look like?

Would it mean that when my six year old throws her daily fit in public that I wouldn’t look around to see who’s watching?

Would it mean that I wouldn’t get angry and shake my head when she says something mean and wonder if people know that I do indeed discipline her at home?

Would it mean that when I find out that my boy cries at school I don’t get embarrassed?

Would I not be distraught and wonder what I am doing wrong when I get a phone call from two different teachers on the same day?

Would I not feel the inkling of shame that I feel right now because I don’t home school and be worried about what you might think of me?

There are times that I feel free, and I mean completely free to be who I am in Christ. Fully hanging out the window with lips flapping in the wind, but when it comes to parenting I’m not there. I’ve still got two feet on the floor because I’ve been told that parenting in freedom is dangerous. It’s not safe and I could get hurt.

Now it’s good that I set boundaries to my children’s "hanging out the window of my car" freedom. I love them and want to keep them from dying young. But when it comes to spiritual freedom, the kind that I long for there is that voice, the one learned by other Christians that says “easy does it” or “I’m glad you are enjoying your freedom but make sure you keep two feet on the floor.”

My friends, this is not how it should be! Christ DIED so that we may be FREE!

Free to fail.

Free to let others fail.

Free to let others hang out the window without glancing down to see their foot placement.

Freedom is free and if we ever have to wonder if we are doing it right then we are not truly free. Right now I’m wondering. Wondering where my spiritual freedom intersects with my parenting freedom and praying that someday I will be truly free.

What would you do with freedom if you truly had it?

Tell Me What's Been Done!

A Prayer Amidst the Chaos

Dear Heavenly Father,

You alone our worthy of our praise.

You alone know the chaos of our lives. You have planned and reside in every detail of our day.

You have not left us to ourselves and you continue to guide us and protect us through your Holy Spirit.

It is of no good works that we can be made righteous, but you Lord have covered us in your righteousness through the gift of your mercy.

You Christ, came and lived perfectly among the chaos because you knew that we could not.

You suffered the persecution, trial, beating, and shame of the bloody cross for us. It was our sin that was layed upon you as you bore the wrath that we so deserved.

And it was you that was resurrected, ascending to be with your Father and gifting us with the Holy Spirit who guides us and leads us so that we are not alone in our chaos.

Thank you lord for the grace that you so freely bestow on us throughout our days and may we see you in what we call chaos but you call planned. For we know that you are working for the good of us that love you.

May we find you in our chaos today.

The Final Three

AHHHHHH!!! This is so hard! Thank you so much for your suggestions. I loved them all but obviously can't choose them all. One of my deciding factors was to google the name to see if there are any other blogs with the same name. And then there was that one smarty who thought I should call it: I Love My Husband So Much or God is so Good...To Give Me Such a Husband. I wonder who that could have been :) 

I may have tweaked some a little. Is that OK? I'll still give credit to where it originated.

Well, here they are. This is scary!


1.) Finding Christ in the Chaos or Christ in the Chaos

2.) Recipients of Grace

3.) Growing Them in Grace or Growing in Grace

Leave a comment here, on facebook, or tweet me to let me know your pick. I can't wait to see what you guys pick!

Voting will end Monday October 10th and the winner will be getting her gospel on with her new book A Gospel Primer.

Because He First Served Me

Ok, so here it is. My "testimony" from this weekend's women's retreat. Thank you to all who were praying for me. I still can't believe that the Lord gave me the opportunity to share and I can't wait to do it again. I even had a few women tell me that I should write :)



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The local church is a visible tangible, real life expression of how God views us." -John Sale




"So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us." 1 Thessalonians 2:8

I am weak. I am very, very weak but I serve a gloriously strong God who uses my weakness.

Through the past years I have trudged through depression, illness, physical weakness and all of the challenges that life brings with it. All of these things brought into my life by a God who wanted to show me who He really was.

It was a "gospel life change." A time that the Lord stripped me from all of the things that I relied on, all of the things that I had put my hope and trust in. He was stripping me of myself. He did this out of His love for me so that He could give me a new love and a new life.

You see I used to go about my days relying on my own strength, working hard to serve a God that I thought was disappointed in me. But through the love of the church body he sent special people that He had hand picked to bring into my life, to turn everything that I knew on it's head and show me Jesus.

I worked hard at being that "Godly woman" that I read about in all of those well meaning books, that woman that so many ministries were preaching that I needed to work hard to be. I thought that if I did certain things, looked a certain way, used the right words than surely I would appear Godly enough to be in His presence.

What I didn't understand was that I was already Godly- I was already righteous. When I was saved I was given two gifts. One was that of having the record of my sin wiped clean but not only that my record was then replaced with the perfect, righteous record of Christ. I had nothing to earn because in one moment I had gained it all, yet I went on living as though I needed to earn my way to God.

Martin Luther said that,"The reason Christ came down, was born, lived among men and women, suffered, was crucified, and died was so that He might present Himself plainly to our eyes and fasten our spiritual sight upon Himself, so that He might keep us from climbing into heaven..." I was missing this in my Christian walk.

I spent many years trying to climb my way into heaven, looking up the rungs of a ladder that disappeared into to the clouds never knowing where it ended. My eyes looked right past Christ thinking that I needed more.

The rungs kept breaking under my feet, my hands couldn't hold on and as I slid further down the ladder of works I began to despair thinking that I had failed, that my good works weren't good enough because I just couldn't get there. I thought surely that God must be disappointed in me because everyone around me seemed to be closer to heaven. What I didn't realize is that maybe they were all pretending to have it together...just like I was.

As I slipped further down the ladder that seemed to be turning into a slide descending into hell at times God brought some very special people into my life. People who had their eyes on Jesus and knew that climbing a silly ladder would only get them nowhere because they had once tried it themselves.

These were the years in my life that I affectionately call "The Great Depression." Not because I enjoyed being there at the time but because I am so thankful for where it led. It was truly a "great" work of God to save me from myself and turn my eyes to Him.

During this extended time I began to think that my spiritual gift was that of helping others to use their spiritual gifts. I really felt that I was useless in the church. I didn't have the physical or emotional strength to give. It was a time for my brothers and sisters to hold up my arms.

We were being pelted by trial after trial that just seemed too hard for us to bear at the time. This is when the church stepped in. So much relief was given to me in my utmost darkest times. Women who sat with me just to be there, women who took my children so that we could hold the hand of a dying friend, meals cooked for us just because, laundry, house cleaning, homeschooling, counseling.

During an extended time of illness our gospel community group stepped in. Taking a child to the Dr. when I was too sick to leave the house, picking up prescriptions, taking the kids to the zoo or out for the day so that we could rest, feeding our animals and one friend was even brave enough to go buy a mouse and feed our pet snake. Even recently I had a friend call up and offer to help clean my house knowing that I was just back from vacation and had a group of women coming over the next morning.

All of this, from the men who dropped off fast food on their way home from work to the kids that came to feed our animals or water our plants showed me that Christ loved me. He was taking care of my needs through the church.

As I began to see the people of the church serving I began to see more of Christ. I could see how He was loving me through them and using this difficult time as a way to take my eyes off of that ladder and off of myself to look into my Saviors face, not having to look up but seeing Him standing right there next to me.

In my time of need not only was I given the gospel by the church, but I was loved. A picture of Christ's service to us. As life settled down and I was pulled out of the pit of despair I could not help but fall in love with not only the gospel that had now set me free but also with Gods people. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted everyone to feel the love and the freedom that I had gained. This love awakened a passion in me. A passion to serve other women, to tell them to get off that ladder and look at the Savior who is standing with them holding their hand. A Savior that, as my daughter Grace so well observed, had given up being a King to come and be a pauper. He gave up all the luxury of His kingdom to come and serve us.

Just as 1John 4:19 says that I love because He first loved me. I can say that I serve because He first served me. It's not a service out of payback or guilt. My debt has been payed, I'm not required to do anything but believe. It's not a service out of obligation but rather celebration. He loves me so much that I just can't help but do something about it.


-Jesus served me by giving up His status and lowering himself to the state of lowly man.


-He served me by living a life not without temptation but without sin because He knew that I could never live up to God's standards of perfection.


-He served me by giving His life and suffering the bloody, gruesome, humiliation of the cross. But even more than that he served me by taking on all of Gods wrath in the span of hours enduring it only as he could, being separated from his perfect intimate relationship with His father so that I might be free. So that there would be no condemnation against me. None.


-He served me by taking my record of every heinous sin that I have ever and would ever commit, replacing it with the grace gift of his perfect and righteous record so that when God looks at me He is not disappointed or disgusted but instead He says, "This is my beautiful daughter with whom I am well pleased. Always and forever. Not just when she is doing good, and even when she runs from me."

Have you every had anyone do this for you? How can I not want to serve a Savior that did all of this and even more than I can comprehend for ME? He did this for ME! He did it for you as well. He has served you in this most insane, incomprehensible way and now resides inside of you serving you through the gift of the Holy Spirit. Protecting you, guiding you and loving you each and every moment even when you feel empty and alone. He's there. He has promised never to leave you or forsake you.

Serving in the church body looks different on everyone. For some it's more tangible service such as cooking, cleaning, driving or child care. For others it may be serving women through encouragement, a listening ear or Speaking the truth to someone when they aren't believing it.

In my own life I no longer see myself as just a recipient of others gifts. I now see what the Lord was doing in my life through those difficult years. He was giving me a passion for the gospel of Christ. Giving me love for the church, giving me something to celebrate so that I could encourage others.

Serving is not a job, an obligation or a burden if you see it as an act of worship. Serving becomes a burden and a chore when we make it about ourselves. Its not about me, it's not even about the people I am serving its about Christ.

Now I don't want you to hear what I've said and think that I am telling you that you need to go out and serve more and be better. That's not what this is about because that's not what he's about. I hope to spark excitement in your heart for what He has done. I hope that with that excitement you will run to him, thank him and out of celebration want to pass on what he has given you. I'm not here to tell you what to do but rather where to go. Go to Christ. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you. Do you have a passion? Do you see a need that you can meet? . There are no rules to service, no limitations, all that is needed is the willingness to step out in faith and celebrate.

Moving On

Well, I knew this day would  come.

I knew my littles would grow and my days would no longer be about diapers, naps, strollers, high chairs and sippy cups...eventually.

But that seemed so far away.

So far away and yet its here.

My little guy is four now. FOUR. There was a time that I couldn't believe my oldest was four.

And here we are.

Three has faded as fast as my beach glow from this summer. Gone out with a similar disappointment, remembering the fondness but looking forward to a change of season.

With our ever changing family my blog has followed suit. It has changed by leaps and bounds over the years as the Lord has changed my law filled heart. I've watched it grow like I've watched my children grow. Not only growing in the number of readers but growing in a new direction. As the gospel continues to permeate my life it is all I want to give. My desire is just that, to bring the much needed, freeing power of the gospel to anyone who dares to read.

With all that said, my house full of kids that aren't so little, and changes all about...it's time for a name that we can grow into. That's where you get to help.

Ive decided to let you, my faithful readers, do the big rename.

Here's the deal:

*Leave a comment here, on my facebook page, tweet or email me and tell me what name you think would look fab with the boots and aptly represents what you read here.

*I will pick my favorite three and then let all of you choose the final name.

*The lovely contestant that suggests the winning name will receive a copy of one of my most beloved books A Gospel Primer by Milton Vincent.

*You have from now until Sunday to think of something "snazzy."

Who's in?

Rest for the Angry Mom

To quote the dear Miss Clavel from Madeline, "Something is not right!"

There's something not right in my heart. Something causing me to crawl through my day, hardly able to crack a smile. I don't feel unhappy. I have joy, yet I'm fighting to show it.

My interactions with my family have been impatient, love lacking and altogether anger laced.

When I'm overtired, overextended, over committed, and just plain over it...I swim in anger. Not a screaming at my kids, throwing plates at my husband anger. But an everyone go away and leave me alone anger. An anger that tells me I need to look out for number one. An anger that makes me want to push away my family and God because it's all just too much work and I can't keep up.

A lonely anger that leaves me feeling ashamed and forgetting how much I am loved.

It's not my exhaustion that causes this anger, no exhaustion is just another thing that exposes the yuck of my heart. Exhaustion doesn't equal anger, exhaustion equals exposure.

When I'm exposed I am stopped in my tracks, seeing the sin before me. My first reaction is to try harder, do better...conquer this! But no my friends, all He asks is that repent and rest.

Rest? There's a sink full of dishes, lunches to make, bible study to prepare for...how am I supposed to rest?

He calls me to come to Him, rest my weary head on His chest and know that I am still loved.
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28


To rest where Christ began...in the coming of a sinless child.

To rest where Christ lived...in the perfect completion of all that needed to be done.

To rest where Christ suffered...in the agonizing, all sufficient payment on the cross.

To rest where Christ continues...in the ever reigning, ever working, never ending pursuit of His beloved daughter.

Christ's birth, life, death and ascension all for this angry, exhausted mom. So that God may look upon me and see completion and perfection. He has done it all, there is nothing left for me to do.

...and now I rest.

When Guilt Floods In

I sit on the red plastic bench of the playground structure pretending to enjoy my wood-chip french fries.

Guilt floods in.

Playing seems like work today, most days lately.

"Enjoy it while you can", "They grow up so fast", "Take advantage of the time you have alone with him." I hate when I hear these words.

I wasn't enjoying him, it seems as if he'll never grow and all this time alone? Just me and him? It scares me.

He says his days with me are hard. He says I make him do hard stuff like take naps. I wish I could take a nap.

The Legos I bought him to keep him busy have now become my job. Finding the pants for the Lego guy becomes the reason for my existence.

I should enjoy it while I can. Take advantage of this time but I don't.


Big kids come home and we have a surprisingly pleasant afternoon. I give Him praise for my softness toward them because it's not me. I confess that to my oldest.

She knows of His grace today, she sees it too.

Husband is home and needs me. Work is tough right now. I'm impatient with all the talk and my feeling of inadequacy. I'm careless and he suffers.

Dinner comes, I actually cooked tonight. It was nice.

Laughing fits at the table with two squirrely boys, nobody listens. It seems like boys only listen when you yell, but I don't yell...not this time.

Harsh words and indifference become me as I clear the table. I want to be served. I'm exhausted, it's late and I don't feel like caring. I give into the enemy's lie that the sin will make me happy. It never does, not for long.

"Time for bed."

"Mommy, will you sing and pray?"

"I'll pray but I just don't want to sing tonight."

Why was singing so hard? Why has my calling become my chore?

Tears of self pity, anger and shame. The guilt lingers. If I were a good mom I'd_________.

Despite my husband's insistence that I've been an encouragement to him I continue to preach to myself...and it's not from the gospel pulpit.

Where does the Godly part come in? Why can't I just do better? My family doesn't deserve this. I can't do anything right. I'm ruining them.

Alone. Up too late.

Grace floods in.

The guilt? Wasn't that taken away at the cross? Gone, completely gone.

The bad mom stuff? It's all true. That's why I need Jesus. If I could do this, if it were easy, I wouldn't need His unmarred, unstained record. Death would have been in vain.

His life...perfection, because mine couldn't be.

Traded for my impatience, indifference, carelessness. Put on Him. For me.

His death...hanging, despised, rejected, beaten, spat upon, separated. For me.

Ascension...forever reigning, working, that I might rest...in Him. For me.

That He might say, "You are my beautiful daughter with whom I am well pleased."

Guilt? Erased.

Guilt? Replaced.

 This is love.

The Gospel for the Weak Mom

      "I thought parenting was going to portray my strengths, never realizing God had ordained it to reveal my weaknesses." - Dave Harvey




106 degrees.


I stood leaning against the port-a-potty dutifully eating a Lunchables, trying not to let myself taste the smell that only an outdoor toilet that's been baking in the sun can create. Not at all hungry because of the heat (and smell) I shoveled in the turkey and crackers so that I could get to my chocolate candy dessert before it melted. I suppose I could have eaten it first now that I'm an adult but since everything in me was rebellious that day I thought I'd do something "good."

It was the first soccer game of the season.

It was hot.

It was lunchtime.

My three year old had to use the potty.

I wanted nothing to do with soccer, Lunchables, sunscreen, port-a-potties and hot kids touching me that day. I wanted my air conditioner, a good book and some peace and quiet.

As I stood there on the hot blacktop baking in the heat I was certain that every other woman in the world was doing something more glamorous. Well maybe not, I guess there were those missionaries on the field in India dealing with stenches far worse than a port-a-potty. There were women who could only dream of eating the lunch that I thought I was too good for. And women who had, after years of heartache, never been gifted a child to take to soccer. And here I stood complaining.

"What a jerk I am! Do I really have anything to complain about? Come on...whiny kids, an umbrella that keeps getting blown over by the hot wind and a husband who is late... are those really hardships worth complaining about? What is my problem?"

I continued to to preach to myself the gospel of my "jerkness" as we headed back to our spot on the sidelines. Trash strewn about, articles of clothing and small complaining children were all that I could see. Until I spotted the team on the opposite side of the field. Really?

"Ugh...I have to move all of this? By myself?" It was a long and painful journey across the field that day. One that ended in grumpier kids, and some not so nice words from their mom. One that sent me into a tailspin of self condemnation.

Once settled and seated I hand-held the umbrella while trying to serve waters from the cooler explaining that nobody was to touch Mommy. I sat pouting, wishing I wasn't there and wondering where my husband was with the back up.

It was the moment my youngest flung himself on the ground screaming about not wanting to move his chair over that I gave up. It was then that I finally gave myself up of stubborn rebellion and self pity that had snowballed through the week. I couldn't do it anymore. I told God that I was tired of being a jerk and that I wasn't good enough for these kids.

Gentle as He is, He brought me hope on that soccer field. He reminded me that it wasn't "jerk" that I should be calling myself but rather "weak." You see if I just call myself a jerk, wallow in my sin and then try harder I miss the whole point of the gospel. It's weak that I am. It's utter dependence on Him that I need. So I repent and remind myself of His never ending love for this weak mom.

It's my weakness that Christ died for and in my weakness that He is glorified.

He knew that I couldn't have a good attitude about eating lunch next to a port-a-potty. He knew I would snap at my kids every time they touched my sweaty body.

He knew I'd want to be anywhere but a soccer game that day and yet He chose me and is not ashamed to call me His.

The gospel tells me that I can never disillusion God, never disappoint God and never surprise God with my sin.

The gospel tells me that there is no condemnation for my sin. No payback, no grudge.

The gospel tells me to abandon all dependence on myself and my pretty little mom rules, to stop trying and to start resting. 


He lowered Himself to human status, lived a life of perfection under trial and suffered in ways unimaginable ending in a death we will never know. And then He ascended and is now reigning and working so that I can be free and rest in the work that He is doing in me.

I may be a weak mom who's sin is great but I have a great and mighty Savior who's forgiveness is even greater.

 

Give Them Grace...Winner!

And our winner is.....AILEEN!

Aileen said, "I would love this book! I've had it in my cart on Amazon for a while...waiting for enough swag bucks to get it! I have been so blessed by 2 other Elyse Fitzpatrick books during difficult times. I am sure that God will use this book as a blessing and as a tool to encourage me through the journey of motherhood."

SO excited for you Aileen...no more Swag Bucks worries :)

Please email me at kimmy(@)crandalls(dot)net with your address so I can send to the book ASAP.

For everyone else still wanting to read Give Them Grace you can order your copy here.