Throne Room

This post first appeared here, on Ungrind's blog, Fresh Brew.

Embarrassing confession: sometimes I read my Bible...in the bathroom. Not while I'm going to the bathroom, mind you. But since the bathroom door locks, and since the noisy exhaust fan can drown out most of the children's chatter, well, a porcelain stool is sometimes the best this mom can manage.

When the kids were younger, and even less likely to "give Mommy some quiet time," I met God in that throne room quite regularly. Once, after a particularly kid-crazy afternoon, I locked myself in the bathroom, sat cross-legged on the linoleum floor, and opened my Bible.

Knock, knock went a little fist on the door. I ignored it.

"Doin', Mommy?" came my toddler son's voice.

"Mommy's reading, honey. You go watch the show while Mommy reads."

The little feet padded off and I read on, until two chubby fingers wiggled under the door.

"I pay you some music, Mommy!" And with that, a toy kuzoo appeared where the fingers had been, and my son, laying in the hall outside, began to blow. Loudly.

Isn't that how most mommy getaways go? And yet, even though a young mom's "quiet time" is infrequent and interrupted, it's still important. Too important not to take. After all, "You cannot impart what you do not possess." I can't give away what I don't have, which means I must stay in constant contact with the Source of life. I can't impart faith to my children if I don't have my own relationship with God. At church, I can't teach what I haven't learned. I can't speak kind words to my husband unless I let God soften my heart through prayer and His word.

What can I offer, if I don't spend time alone with my Savior? And so, I lock myself in the bathroom, and ignore my sweet children (and their kazoos) for just a bit, so that I can come into the transformative presence of God...in the bathroom.

Famous U-Turns

(This post first appeared in September, 2007.)

If I were to make a list of things I hate, driving would be very near the top. Just after diet soda and CSI: Miami.

Driving has always scared me. I didn’t get my license until I was 20, and I only did then because Andy said he wouldn’t marry me until I could drive. For some reason, being responsible for the lives of others while trying to maneuver a giant flammable machine has never excited me. I often dream about car accidents or driving without brakes, and I have to gulp down my fear for a simple trip to the grocery store. I’m a chicken.

I also don't like driving because, quite simply, I get lost. A lot. In places I’ve been many times. Absolutely no sense of direction. It’s not that I don’t try; I rarely leave the house without turn-by-turn instructions from Andy. But I still manage to somehow choose the wrong way. A lot.

For example, there was the time I attempted to bring a McDonald’s lunch to Andy, but I couldn’t find his office. I wandered around and around, with my children calling from the backseat, “Are we almost there, Mama?” I lied that I thought so, and passed back fries by the handful to keep them quiet.

Once I went looking for a house for sale, and ended up on a dead-end dirt road in the Angeles National Forest. When I tried making a 27-point turn to get back to civilization, I high-centered across the low-shouldered street and got stuck.

But my best story of lostness happened when I took my friend to Ventura for a beach day…only I couldn’t find the beach. I could smell the water, I could see the gulls flying overhead, but I could not locate the entire Pacific Ocean to save my life.

My kids have a name for what to do when I get us lost: “Mom’s Famous U-Turns”. “Mom, shouldn’t you make a famous U-turn?” “Do you know where we are? Just do one of your famous U-turns.” Delightful children. But I suppose it’s nice to be famous for something.

Wrong turns are harmless enough when it comes to driving. They're an annoying inconvenience, but little else. However, when it comes to my spiritual journey, bad choices have much greater—even eternal—consequences.

Lately I feel like I’m standing at a spiritual crossroads—as though I’ve come to a giant fork in life’s road and I’m choosing which direction to take. One path will leave things much the way they are: manageable. Little will be required of me if I choose this direction. After all, I already attend church, tithe, and obey the rules (usually). I will continue to say whatever pops into my head, to lose my temper or complain, and to keep everything else under my control.

But the other path—the one I feel drawn to, yet scared to start down—is much more difficult. I don’t know exactly where it leads, but I know it will require growth, and faith, and love. I will have to trust other people rather than protect myself from them. I’ll let myself love completely and be loved in return. On this path I’ll give away my possessions generously, trusting God to provide. I’ll make my thoughts “obedient to Christ” and my speech “helpful for building others up”. Here I will never be in control, yet I will experience a freedom like never before.

These two roads remind me of a passage in Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis:

“…every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow-creatures, and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other.”

I want to make the right choice—to become the creature in harmony with God. And unfortunately, I will most likely veer off in the wrong direction at times. I’ll get lost, as usual, and make many bad choices along the way. But good news! God allows U-turns. He is famous for them.

Missionary's Prayer

Recently, I read this prayer by Betty Stam, a missionary with China Inland Mission. To be honest, I'm not sure I could pray these words...what humility and faith!

Lord, I give up all my own plans and purposes,
all my own desires and hopes,
and accept Thy will for my life.
I give myself, my time, my all,
utterly to Thee to be Thine forever.
Fill me and seal me with Thy Holy Spirit.
Use me as Thou wilt,
send me where Thou wilt,
work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost,
now and forever.

Random Funny: Who's Nicer?

Overheard...

Molly: "Who do you like better--Mom or Dad?"

Anne: "I like them both the same." (Typical middle child.)

Molly: "I do, too. Mom's a liiittle bit nicer at teaching school than Dad is. But Dad's nicer at...everything else."



Who's nicer at your house?

Lessons from a Basset Hound, part 7: Reward

“Get in your bed, Belle.”

She raises a heavy hound eyebrow but remains otherwise unmoved.

“Bed, Belle.”

Still no movement. Her expression says, “No thanks. I’m comfy right here.”

Andy stands up and walks toward the kitchen. “Belle, get in your bed. Do you want a treat?”

Now she’s interested. She rolls over, stretches her legs, keeps an eye on Andy to make sure he isn’t bluffing, and slowly heads for her crate.

Belle only—only—performs for treats. No inner motivation from this girl. Often, we have to wave the treat directly in front of her nose before she’ll budge. Belle wants a reward, and she has to see it before she’ll obey.

The people listed in Hebrews 11 weren’t like Belle. They obeyed by faith, without tangible proof of reward. Noah “built an ark”, Abraham “obeyed and went”, and Moses obeyed “because he saw him who is invisible”. But where was their reward? “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised: they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.” (Hebrews 11:13)

I wonder…do I have such faith? Do I truly believe that God will reward, and that His rewards are best? Or do I, like my basset hound, only obey when I see the reward I want already on its way?

“Yes, God, I’ll obey You in this…because You’ll ‘bless’ me financially for it.”

“Sure, I’ll obey…because people will praise me for a job well done.”

Obedience for a selfish, short-term “treat” isn’t what God wants. He wants faith. He wants me to believe Him for a better reward.

“These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.” (Hebrews 11:39-40)

Belle won’t budge until she sees a dog treat headed her way. But I must obey by faith, and believe God for His promised reward. I may not see it now, and I may not receive it on this side of eternity. But when God waits…when the reward is delayed…He has something better in mind. Something even better than what I think I want.

I must faithfully obey.

He will faithfully reward.



Other Lessons from a Basset Hound...

• 1: Obedience
• 2: Perseverance
• 3: Love
• 4: Hope
• 5: Smelling Like Poo
• 6: Tweet!

Bookshelf: TrueFaced

Recently our friend Jason Casey sent us the book TrueFaced, by Bill Thrall, Bruce McNicol and John Lynch. It has great thoughts on grace, forgiveness, and the struggle of pleasing God vs. trusting Him. A few quotes from TrueFaced:

"We will never please God through our efforts to become godly. Rather, we will only please God--and become godly--when we trust God."

"If a relationship or community lacks grace, that relationship or community is low on trust."

"Who am I? I am a person already deeply pleasing to God."

"How I view myself is the most revealing commentary of my theology."

"God's ultimate goal is maturing us into who he says we are, and then releasing us into the dreams he designed for us before the world began."

"Forgiveness produces results so far out of our normal experience that it feels mysterious. Forgiveness brings alienated enemies together again. People who hated each other. People who do whatever they can never to see or talk to each other again....When people forgive, their hearts are woven together in love. This is mysterious stuff."

Not My Kid

"I'm like, the only one who can't say bad words," Nathan announced one afternoon. He wasn't complaining, just stating fact. The neighbor kids had taken a poll on which curse words they were each allowed to say, and Nathan couldn't say any of them.

He's also the only one who can't watch certain TV shows, and the only one who can't ride his bike beyond certain streets. And, sadly, he's the only one who must come home at a certain time for dinner.

Occasionally Nathan complains.

"But he doesn't have to go in yet...."

"But he can watch the movie...."

And my response? "He is not my kid. You are mine, so you have my rules."

Ah, that's one of those parenting lines that echoes around in my head as God's Spirit gently nudges, "Yes, Amy, that's what I've been trying to teach you, too."

Sometimes I complain.

"But she gets to retaliate when she's angry. She complains and pouts and gossips."

"But she handles things on her own. She sets her own agenda, and she's very successful. I know You tell me to wait on You, but God, she gets things accomplished by herself!"

And God lovingly replies, "She is not My kid. You are Mine, so you must live by My rules--according to My life-giving word, given for your own good!"

"My children--those who would follow Me and call themselves by My Son's name--must love and forgive, not retaliate and hold grudges. My kids don't complain or gossip. My daughters trust Me, and hope in My promises, and wait for Me to advance My kingdom through them, rather than take matters into their own hands, for their own selfish gain. Child, do you insist on being unloving? Untrusting? Then you are not My kid."

A prayer: God, I want to be Yours! Oh, how I long for it! Why am I tempted to settle for less than what You've promised? Let me not be completely happy until I completely submit. I love You, God, and I'll obey. Thank You again and again for letting me be Your kid. Amen.