Know-Love-Obey God

Or perhaps I should call them my Soulguards:

Discretion
and
Understanding

They are protective pair,
one at the front door,
and one at the back,
each one a tattooed bouncer
in his muscle shirt,
hands closed in fists,
spiked leather straps
circling both wrists,
ready
to boot out any
foolishness
or hasty, thoughtless
life choices.

Discretion will guard you.
Understanding will watch over you.

- Proverbs 2:11

(And for another Soulguard, see Turn That Puppy Around!)

I stand on unfamiliar ground.
Places unknown lie before me.
You call me to follow,
You’re carving my way,
Yet still I hesitate.

I turn to see who’s behind me:
Souls You have placed in my care.
They watch my direction,
They’re following me,
And I no longer hesitate.
My feet take the path I should take.

Point out the road for me to follow.
I’ll hear Your voice
And I’ll follow Your lead.
You go before me;
I’ll walk in Your ways,
For someone is following me.
Little ones are following me.

Show me the right path, O Lord;
point out the road for me to follow.

- Psalm 25:4 NLT

(this song—a reminder for me—inspired by a friend’s story of her boys snowboarding with their dad)

I think of trees and reach up,
wanting to touch green leaves.

I want more than to touch, I want to be
the tree, the kind of tree

that even in soul-scorching heat,
even in the droughts, long droughts, can still

reach down, roots reaching down past
cracked and rainless ground, down

to deep places where water waits
and my leaves remain

green and very green, vibrant,
swollen with life, transluscent

so the Light penetrates,
passes through me, in and through me,

shining. In drought I won’t merely survive
but thrive, leaves swollen with life,

branches heavy with fruit
and even more fruit, flourishing.

So I trust in the Lord, I know
He is my hope, the Light, the sap, the water

and I am the tree,
the green.

But blessed are those who trust in the LORD
and have made the LORD their hope and confidence.
They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat
or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
and they never stop producing fruit.

- Jeremiah 17:7-8

I was twenty-four and dressed in my only suit, the same one I wore as I job-hunted from one Silicon Valley start-up to another. I had just survived most of an all-day interview complete with grilling technical questions from different groups. I sat across a polished conference table from my last interviewer. Almost done.

Then, in that room with bright, white walls came The Worst Interview Question. “What makes you think you’re qualified for this position?” he asked.

What do I say to that?

“That’s your job to decide,” I answered, and he did decide. I did not get an offer from that company.

Lucky for me, midwives and obstetricians never ask that question: What makes you think you’re qualified to be a mother? Because once I became one, and the more children I had, and the older they got, the more I thought that the parenting task is above me.

At our church’s last baptism, a seven-year-old and a nine-year-old were baptized. Recently I heard of a five-year-old who prayed to accept Christ. Two of our sons just attended a week-long Christian camp where several other campers became Christians during the week. I read blog posts about other people’s young ones becoming Christians. Every month during Communion Sunday, I watch children reach for the bread and take the cup.

At this point, none of our children have professed faith in Jesus. Not one. They pray and enjoy God, learning about Him, but at this point their faith is not yet their own, I think.

So, I wonder. What kind of parent am I? What kind of spiritual leader? Do I adequately model God’s grace, love, and forgiveness to my children? Why do they not yet believe?

I get overwhelmed. Parenting is a gigantic task much larger than I imagine. Who am I to have spiritual oversight over these three boys? How many times have I felt inadequate as a parent? I feel unfit.

Whenever I feel this inadequacy, I turn to these Scriptures . . .

For I am the least of the apostles, who am not fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am . . .

. . . and my feeling is confirmed: I am unfit to be a mother.

Yet here I am, a mother; three undeniable evidences sit around our dinner table, drink four gallons of milk per week, and throw their dirty socks in the laundry basket. I am, in fact, a mother. This means that God has made me what I am not fit to be. Every time I try to understand that, I can’t, really. God gave me this job, even though I am underqualified. Counterintuitively, this knowledge—this realization that I am unfit to be a parent—strengthens me as a parent. My best parenting credential is God’s grace. By the grace of God, I am what I am . . .

. . . and His grace toward me did not prove vain; but I labored even more than all of them, yet not I, but the grace of God with me.

(above quotes are from 1 Corinthians 15:9-10)

The parenting role is overwhelming, but I strive and try harder to be a good parent, even while recognizing that I am a parent only by God’s grace. My efforts and striving only follow in the wake His grace makes. Paradoxically and wonderfully, God’s Word which makes me understand that I am unfit to be a parent is the very same Word that gives me utmost confidence to be a parent.

Maybe feelings of inadequacy can be healthy. They actually give me confidence and better ability, for what is more enabling than God’s grace?

Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as coming from ourselves, but our adequacy is from God, who also made us adequate as servants of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.

(2 Corinthians 3:5-6)

Lord, I’m inadequate, yet this is what YOU have made me, so I offer myself, yet not on my own strength but by Your grace. Amen.

(This Wednesday Ann Voskamp hosts a community of those who share about Parenting. Visit Ann’s place for more posts on parenting!)

(Also for the “One Word at a Time” on Children, hosted by Bridget Chumbley. Visit Bridget’s for more posts on Children!)

All summer long
I have folded,
created. Why do I find
such solace in this?
Origami calms,
comforts, heals, reassures.

It begins with a little sheet,
a simple square of paper
unadorned, plain,
smooth and untouched.

What can come
of such a thing,
so thin, so frail
and blank?

The sheet has nothing yet.
I precision-align corner to corner,
edge to edge, and make
the first folds,
mountain- and valley-folds, all
irreversible,
hard creases it will remember;
creases that cannot be undone.

I am the paper
with such a memory
and each crease is a word said
to me, or a deed done
by me, words and deeds,
mountains and valleys
that cannot be
undone, I remember
each one.

I find solace in folding.
To make each crease is to
remember grace,
that God can take me—
thin, frail, plain—
and, despite flaws
and can’t-go-back
life choices, He can transform me
into something of beauty,
something redeemed
into beauty.

I keep my folds
and will not try to smooth
out the creases. He is the one
to make lines invisible,
if He will. If not,
His grace makes those same lines
into the good
He will make of them.

For the High Calling Blogs “solace” poetry prompt)

A vertical from sea level to where we stand
measures better than 12,000 feet. We begin
at the elevated backbone dividing a continent. Here
a raindrop falls and makes its way
to the Pacific Ocean. Another raindrop landing
just a little bit east takes a very different
course to the Atlantic. Just a small step
in the beginning makes a wide, wide
difference in the end.

Unlike the raindrops, we choose our direction
and decide west. Trees don’t grow at these
air-thinning heights, and my lungs understand.
We step carefully, trying to tread on rocks
instead of alpine tundra vegetation. Up here
the low-growing ground cover takes
a long time to recover.

I thank God that He has held back
high-mountain lightning and storms that would
be normal for the afternoon. We feel sun.
Big-rock cairns mark the right place,
call us to stay and assure us
we are on the trail, though the path
is not often trodden, not well defined.

We thirst, we need to drink often
especially at the mountain’s bare top,
yes, a giddy height, but a place hard-blown
by bullying winds and fierce sun bombarding
with not much air to protect us, not much air
between sun rays and skin.
Where is the map? I want the valley.

Our goal is the valley, and we can see
that is where the trees grow, the stream gives
life, the land is lush, our bodies
are protected in the low, low valley,
in the depths is growth and nourishment.

We cross the Divide east to west,
we cross tree line,
we cross the midpoint of August,
we cross a stream but first need
to build a bridge, dragging heavy logs
to the stream where the fishing is great.

What other crossings will be before me?
I consider, I take steps, I trust.
After the valley I load the pack again,
now lighter, and make my way, a harder way
back to the top, the mountain’s bare top
where I can turn around to see
where I have been, where I have grown,
and I know
I have risen from the valley.

For the “pilgrimage” PhotoPlay prompt from Claire Burge. Visit High Calling Blogs on Friday, August 20 to see other photos!

Did I hear her right? With the phone at my ear, I felt a familiar excitement; my pulse was already quickening even in the middle of her question.

“Would you lead one of the ensembles at the Women’s Tea?”

I can’t say for sure, but I think I began to drool. Of all things in music, ensemble singing is my absolute favorite.

In another time, my answer would have been an immediate yes, without regard to calendar or family (I am ashamed to admit). But God has been working on me for years, teaching me to adjust my thinking, to redirect my intensity from frantic to calm. This time, I had my pre-determined response ready.

“Let me check my calendar and talk with Charles first. By when do you need me to decide?”

The lips were speaking, but the mind and heart were already there, two months ahead, singing with three others whose beautiful voices I could already hear blending exquisitely. As she gave me the details of the tea over the phone, I was already planning whom to ask, what parts each woman would sing, which pieces to look for, at which websites to search for sheet music, when and where and how often to rehearse. And of course, all the songs would be a capella, musically challenging, with suspensions in the harmonies. We would work on the dynamics and blending and phrasing until we nailed each piece, and—ohhhh!—it was going to be beautiful.

But even then, even before I hung up the phone, even as I mentally planned, I knew:

God wanted me to say no.

“I’ll get back to you.” Thus began the next thirty-six hours of resisting, wrestling, being stubborn with God. I rationalized and made excuses.

It’s only one night—not a regular, long-term commitment.

(blah, blah, yadda, yadda, etc.)

I recognized the familiar resistance. I nearly talked myself into it. But by God’s grace, rather than reason my way into disobedience I stopped rationalizing and decided it was a good time to work on my memory verses.

John, chapter 15. It was perfect. God turned my mind to abiding in Him, to my desire for fruitfulness, to what happens when the branch does not abide in the Vine.

Before my mind returned to rationalizing, I sent her the email response: I believe God does not want me to lead the ensemble. There. Done. *Whew*. Saved by the Word.

This “no” was not an on-the-spot, easy deal. It was but one step in the months (years?) of training God is instilling in me:

Slow down.
“Increase your focus; slow your pace.”
In serving God, intense does not mean frantic.

This is my direction: Calm Intensity.

It is all part of a big-picture preparation.

And it was the preparation day, and the Sabbath was about to begin.

- Luke 23:54

For good, effectual rest, I need to prepare. Preparation precedes rest. The rest time will not be very restful if I have not taken time and forethought to plan for it beforehand.

Ideas on preparing for rest:

1. Think well on what to say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to.
Before I say “yes” to something, consider the existing commitments. Before I take on something new, is there something old that is still incomplete or needs my attention?

2. Work.
Good rest requires work! That is, pre-rest work, like the preparation day before Sabbath. I should complete what needs to be completed before the rest-time (groceries in the pantry, dinner for the family, chores, business and paperwork, etc.).

3. Work well and with excellence.
Do the pre-rest work well and thoroughly. If I do a half-hearted, rushed, insufficient job, my mind will still be on the incompleted or poorly done task during the rest time.

(Originally posted at my other blog, Calm Intensity (which I have discontinued for now).)

Like grandmother’s soup recipe
and “when I was little” stories
and sepia portraits with lips and cheeks
rosy-painted in,
the worship of God
and the wonders of His works
exhibited
both in His Word
and in my own life
live only as long
as I tell it.
It only takes one generation
to lose knowledge of the Lord.
Unless I pass on my spiritual heritage
to my children and those who come
after me, the death
of faith and praise
is only
a generation away.

After that generation died, another generation grew up who did not acknowledge the LORD or remember the mighty things he had done for Israel.

(Judges 2:10)

One generation shall praise Your works to another,
And shall declare Your mighty acts.
On the glorious splendor of Your majesty
And on Your wonderful works, I will meditate.
Men shall speak of the power of Your awesome acts,
And I will tell of Your greatness.
They shall eagerly utter the memory of Your abundant goodness
And will shout joyfully of Your righteousness.

(Psalm 145:4-7)

(This Wednesday Ann Voskamp hosts a community of those who share about Parenting. Visit Ann’s place for more posts on parenting!)

She is always smiling
giving encouragement
cheering up those who come
to her for spirit-lifting
and fun, bright laughter.
She must never
have problems.
I hear her laughter
but can I listen well
enough to hear the tears
and weeping
of her heart?

Even in laughter
the heart may be in pain.

- Proverbs 14:13

For the “One Word at a Time” on Laughter, hosted by Bridget Chumbley.

(I was revisiting this from my private journal dated 6/17/2008 and thought, why not share it? Some processing I did back then . . .)

I am seeking the Lord’s face as I learn how to live with past failures and confessed sin—that, after recognizing and repenting of failure, I would move on rather than dwell on it. My mind replays the scene of my fault, my spirit drags, and I shake my head in the remembrance. “Why did I do that? Why did I say that? Why didn’t I do or say what I should have done or said?”

Instead of repeatedly finding my mind stuck in the same rut, I want to change for the better. I enter this study to fight stagnation, to get out of the rut, to forbid my mind from returning to mistakes past and forgiven.

Right and Wrong Remembering

It’s okay to remember past failures if the result is repentance, thankfulness and wonder at grace. But if the result is condemnation and hindrance, then I undermine grace. If the result is growing weary and losing heart, then it is the wrong kind of remembering.

Unbelief

Persistent regret at past failures indicates unbelief and lack of faith. By wallowing in confessed sin, I show that I do not believe that God forgave me. I undermine grace. What, then, can I do? How can I turn from displaying this kind of unbelief? I can meditate on the opposite: belief and faith. The Lord then directed my mind to Hebrews:

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance, and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you may not grow weary and lose heart.

- Hebrews 12:1-3

Before. The race is on the path before me, not on the path behind that I have already walked. To turn and walk the path already (badly) trodden is not the way to run a race. The believer’s path is before, not behind.

Then, the verbs:

Lay aside. Giving thought to mistakes is an encumbrance. Discouragement hinders. Take those words spoken in an ugly tone, that forgotten commitment, last Wednesday’s boastfulness, the actions that caused someone pain. Confess it to the Lord, and turn away from it, and then lay aside the past. Take it off the racecourse. Set it aside. Clear the path. Eliminate the obstacles.

Run. Persist. Surge ahead aggressively. Don’t be timid. Continue wholeheartedly. Run, and run with endurance, continuing on despite the distance. Endurance doesn’t come for free; it must be earned. Train myself, run regularly, to build up endurance.

Look. Fix my eyes on Jesus. Consider Jesus. Staring at the past turns the eyes away from the Lord. Look not at the failures. Set my gaze on Jesus, and consider Him. Consider His ways in the Scriptures, how He loved, what He did, what He said. Fix my eyes on Him. Look!

This reminded me of how A.W. Tozer described faith:

[F]aith is the gaze of the soul upon a saving God . . . From all this we learn that faith is not a once-done act, but a continuous gaze of the heart at the Triune God . . . Faith looks out instead of in and the whole life falls into line.

- A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God, pages 83-85.

John Henry Jowett says almost the same thing:

Now, faith is first of all an attitude and then an act. It is primarily a spiritual posture which reveals itself in moral obedience. And to be rich in faith is to possess a poise of soul which steadily contemplates and rests in the love of God, in sunshine and shower, and through all the changing seasons and temperatures of our years.

- John Henry Jowett, Things That Matter Most (from Chapter IV, “Spiritual Abilities”).

Tozer says faith is the soul’s gaze upon God. Jowett says faith is the soul’s posture or poise towards God. If all of me is Godward, looking on Him and facing Him, then I demonstrate my faith in Him. I believe He has forgiven me, and I move on. (See Tozer’s entire chapter, “The Gaze of the Soul,” in The Pursuit of God.)

(More later . . .)