All the Way My Savior Leads Me

A prayer for 2010: Jesus, lead me all the way!

"All the Way My Savior Leads Me"
by Fanny Crosby
(performed here by Rich Mullins)

All the way my Savior leads me
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His faithful mercies
Who through life has been my guide?
Heavenly peace, divinest comfort
Here by faith in Him to dwell
For I know whate'er befall me
Jesus doeth all things well

All of the way my Savior leads me
And He cheers each winding path I tread
Gives me strength for every trial
And He feeds me with the living bread
And though my weary steps may falter
And my soul athirst may be
Gushing from a rock before me
Lo! a spring of joy I see

And all the way my Savior leads me
Oh, the fullness of His love
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father's house above
When my spirit clothed immortal
Wings its flight through realms of the day
This my song through endless ages:
Jesus led me all the way

Random Funny: Christmas List

Molly wants Monopoly
Anne wants a set of drums
Nathan wants "Harry Potter stuff"--
can't wait until it comes.
Andy wants the Apple Store
(the whole place is hard to wrap)
And I? I haven't had one in ten years,
but I'd surely love a nap.

Numbers 6:24-26 and the Stomach Flu

We've been up to our tree-topper with Nutcracker rehearsals and performances. This year, Molly was a bonbon, and Anne was a soldier. In my ballet-challenged, motherly-biased opinion, they were, of course, phenomenal.

However, just before the final performance, the stomach flu came on Anne with a vengeance. And when I say, "with a vengeance", I mean, "in the van". Twice.

And several times thereafter.

Thank goodness for two casts of performers, and alternates who can fill in for sick soldiers at the very last minute. Anne and I came home and snuggled on the couch before I tucked her in bed with a giant plastic bowl. I prayed and sang until she fell asleep.

As I sang, I thought about when she was born nine years ago, and how hugely inadequate I felt to be the mother of a daughter. I prayed for wisdom in raising her to be the woman God created. I imagined her life years from now--a life filled with beauty and music and, stomach flu notwithstanding, dance.

I made up one of my terrible off-the-cuff tunes to Numbers 6:24-26, and sang it over her again and again.

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.

An hour later, Anne was up again with another bout. When I settled her back under the covers and kissed her hot forehead, she said sleepily, "Will you sing that song you sang before? The one about God's face."

I'm certain the tune wasn't the same the second time around, but at least it still put her to sleep. As I sang version two, I prayed again.

Lord, make my whole life sing about You! Every word written, every lesson taught, every laugh shared, every tune sung over a giant plastic bowl--let it all be a song about You, Your glory, Your face. Amen.



A lesson from last year's Nutcracker - Advent Week 4: Angels and Peace

Behind the Scenes

As a baby, Nathan often woke up hungry after his naps. When I heard him stirring, I'd heat water for a bottle, and have it ready when I retrieved him from his crib. One day, though, I was too slow. Nathan whined at first, then whimpered, and by the time I mixed the powdered formula, he was completely wailing. He cried at the top of his lungs in his bed while I worked as fast as I could in the kitchen.

Did he think I would let him starve? Hadn't I fed him every few hours a day, his entire life? I shook the bottle a little harder than necessary and said out loud to my kitchen, "Nathan, if you could only see what I'm doing, you wouldn't cry. You'd know I'm taking care of you."

And then it hit me. How often did God say the same thing to me?

"Child, if you could only see My hand at work behind the scenes, you wouldn't worry!"

"Haven't I always taken care of you? Am I not faithful?"

"Why do you complain and doubt? If you trusted My character, you'd know I have your best in mind."

Lord, You are faithful.--You never leave me nor forsake me. You are good.--You give me a future and a hope. Thank You for always taking care of me, whether or not I see You at work. Let me trust and rest in Your unfailing love. Amen.

Happy Birthday, Andy!

We love you so much! Happy 35th!

Happy Now!

Re-posted from April 2009. Thanking God that our friend Mike is happy now.

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Revelation 21:3-5)

Nathan spent half his toddlerhood perched on an old chair in our living room. It was a green armchair—or, as he called it, a “geen keer”—where we sent Nathan when he was naughty. If he told Mommy no, or whacked his baby sister on the head with a toy truck, Nathan sat on the geen keer until he was ready to be kind.

Which was approximately 3.5 seconds.

“Kind now! I weady to be kind now!”

And once the punishment passed, and I no longer frowned and spoke sternly, Nathan would light up with a big smile and say, “Mommy happy now!”

When I praised him for picking up his toys, he’d point out that I was “happy now”. When Andy arrived home from work, and scooped him up for a hug, Nathan would yell, “Happy now!” And when I’d lift him from his crib after naptime, he’d hug my neck and holler, “I happy now!”

My most favorite “happy now” happened one evening just before bed. We were reading books, and Nathan brought me his picture Bible. He flipped to the end, and landed on a picture of God on heaven’s throne, surrounded by a rainbow. Nathan ooohhed and aaahhed as I described our future home. I put the story in his terms even more, telling him that he could sit on Jesus’ lap, and have cake and soda. Maybe those things weren’t in John’s revelation, but they certainly spell heaven to a toddler.Nathan absolutely exploded with joy. He jumped to his feet and marched around the room, pumping his little fists in the air and chanting, “Hap-py now! Hap-py now! Hap-py now!”

Revelation is a confusing book, and people much smarter than I have debated its meaning, and speculated on exactly what the end of time will be. But I think Nathan summed it up beautifully. On the day when I see Jesus—on the day when tears stop flowing and hearts stop aching, when mothers are reunited with the babies they never held, and when every doubt is instantly answered—then, in His forever-presence I will finally and completely be…happy now.

Lessons from a Basset Hound, part 9: New

On an extra hot day last summer, the glass in our patio door shattered. First, it popped loudly, as though hit by a rock. Then, it crackled quietly as thousands of thin lines spread across the whole door.

Andy called a repairman, who said that shattering is common in glass that gets direct sunlight. He also said that he was on vacation and couldn't fix it for two weeks. For five of us, two weeks with a broken door was just an annoyance. But for one of us--the one who walks on four legs and drools terribly--the non-working door was a puzzle. Belle could not understand.

"Ruff," she'd say, sitting at the broken door, asking to be let out.

"Come, Belle," we'd call from across the room, to take her through the front door instead.

"Ruff?" she'd repeat, confused.

Basset hounds, the dog books say, enjoy routine. That's one of the reasons we chose her breed, actually, because I'm not fond of change, either. But the broken door ruined Belle's normalcy. For two whole weeks, she was forced to do something--gasp!--new.

Aversion to change is harmless enough in basset hounds. I suppose it's even understandable in my personality type. But a problem arises when my dislike of "new" becomes a lack of faith, or worse, a willful disobedience of what God tells me to do.

Andy and I have been in a season of change. One area of ministry ended and another began, and I must say, at times I've obeyed God only after pitching a royal fit about it. My kids are changing, too. Last night as I folded Nathan's laundry, I sighed and wondered aloud, "When did we get big kids?" How dare they grow so quickly. Our church, too, is fast-approaching a new building, with new opportunities for ministry and growth. It's exciting! And, terrifying.

But God is in the "new" business:

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:18-19)

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:26)

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

"He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'" (Revelation 21:5)

Lord, You're leading me through a new door, and I want to follow. Thank You that what is unknown to me is nothing new for the Ancient of Days. Help me to trust, and to obey with boldness and joy. In all the changes, I rely on Your unfailing love and Your unending faithfulness. I love You, Lord. Amen.


Previous Lessons from a Basset Hound:

• Lesson 1: Obedience
• Lesson 2: Perseverance
• Lesson 3: Love
• Lesson 4: Hope
• Lesson 5: Smelling Like Poo
• Lesson 6: Tweet!
• Lesson 7: Reward
• Lesson 8: Wisdom