Yesterday was letter 'T' day for Caleb at his preschool. He took careful preparation in collecting his train tracks and placing them in a ziploc. I was hurriedly trying to finish chores so we could be halfway on time and told him to get his things and get in the van. Halfway to the church, I ask him about his train tracks. Immediate emotional shutdown-Caleb remembered the backpack but forgot the train tracks.
I am hurled into a moment of truth. Do I turn around and get his train tracks or is this a life lesson of facing responsibility? For Caleb, it is my fault, and he tells me so. Is it my responsibility, or has he tried to replace the responsibility onto my shoulders because he doesn't want to face it on his own?
This reminds me of a close friend of ours. Anytime my husband tries to talk to him about coming to church, any church, trying to get him to develop a relationship with our Savior, his argument is he's just as good as all those judgmental hypocrites who go to church and try to pretend they're better than everyone else. And the sad reality is he has a point. But he's missing the bigger issue. He is replacing personal responsibility for his salvation with finger-pointing competitions, judging others for judging him. Hmmm, maybe that's not such a comical irony.
Maybe it's time we all quit making excuses for why we are the way we are and own up to the fact that we are responsible. The choices we make are our own decisions, regardless of some of the very real, very hard events that have occured in our pasts. And the future we carve out is in our hands, until we make THE right decision-placing it in His hands.
I kept driving. And when we got to preschool, a fellow mom expressed her concern for Caleb. So I explained to her, and his teachers, the events that had transpired since leaving our home. And the whole way back home I battled whether I should step in and save the day and return to an elated Caleb with his train tracks. But I knew in my heart the answer. It is my place as his mom to replace responsibility back onto his shoulders, because if he never holds the key to his own future, if I am always stepping in to fix life for him, he will never hold the key to Heaven, because he will still be expecting me to obtain it for him. And I certainly hope to see him there with me someday, so I am choosing to think big as I start small.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Competing Comparisons
It must have started when I was born, at least I have no
recollection of it being any other way-confined to competing against others
around me because when I compare myself to them, I don’t measure up.
Like when I was in elementary school. My dad arrived home from a ride on his
motorcycle. Now our mother had warned us
plenty of times to stay away from the bike because we could burn ourselves on
the exhaust. My sister accidentally
grabs hold of the muffler while we are playing and starts to cry, stating it is
very hot and has burnt hands to prove it.
In my arrogant competitiveness, I tell her she is a wimp and proceed to
grab the muffler for myself, only to find I am not the tough stuff I think I
am. A little girl competing against
comparisons because when I sized up my sister, my internal defense mechanisms
sprung to action to remedy my lacking significance.
I would like to say three decades remedied my dilemma,
but I would be lying. I have two friends
who are rather ‘popular’ in their respective fields and are gaining renowned
prominence. Just today my Facebook
stalking left me inwardly cringing a bit over their newest triumph toward
public advancement. And I found myself
once again competing against the comparisons that wage war in my mind and
heart.
Ugghh. This is
only the beginning of my disparaged tale of past competitive comparisons. Throughout my school years, I did everything
in my power to be the valedictorian of the classroom and the MVP of the court,
which then turned into attempts to be the Teacher of the Year and the envy of
the neighborly husbands. When that
became obviously impossible, it switched to Martha Steward Living for my
homestead and the Brady bunch saga for my family, which then evolved to
encompass goals of martyrdom and Billy Graham acclaims. Yet time after repetitive time, the devil
whispered on:
“Oh, look how talented they
are. You’ll never be that talented.”
“Wow, she’s really got it all
together. Her house is beautiful. She is beautiful. Her children are beautiful. Everything about her is just so-so. Even in her
lounge pants and sweatshirt she’s got you beat.”
“You’ve wasted your whole life
trying to be like Jesus and look at you.
You can’t even measure up enough to influence one person to Christ.”
“Try as you may, but you’ll
never get it together. Why don’t you
just give up and deal with the fact you’ll always be a little less than
impressive.”
Years of sharing life tells me I am not alone in this
matter, but tonight I feel very isolated.
My heart screams everyone else is something and I am nothing. I have missed the boat when I tried to step
out and walk on water. God called and I
failed. If only . . .
And then in the midst I again hear God’s voice. It is not loud. It is not prominent. It is simply there. And he says I am something. He says He is not comparing me to anyone else
in this world so neither should I. He
tells my heart to stop beating for the recognition of others and start pounding
for the fulfillment of His very being indwelling me. He reminds me that in His eyes, I always
measure up, I am always significant.
And then I hear loud and clear what he perhaps wants me
to hear most of all. As long as I am
following His lead in His kingdom and remaining obedient to His call for my
life, I AM GAINING RENOWNED PROMINENCE, only
I’m laying up treasures and trophies where it counts-gaining fame for The
Famous One.
“You are the Lord, the Famous One, Famous One. Great is Your Name in all the earth. The Heavens declare, “You’re glorious,
glorious.” Great is your Fame beyond the
earth.” –Chris Tomlin
So if I never become anyone in your eyes, it’s okay. I am with someone and in someone and part of
someone who is the greatest Someone in all the heavens and all the earth. And that, dear friends, makes me Someone
too, for now and forevermore.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The Dandelion Rose
The
Dandelion Rose
written for Kyle and Jessica, June 2011
The story goes of a weathered couple who had seen
countless years of the storms of this life.
In spite of life’s missiles though, they were just one of those couples
that permeate a soft, smooth, warming effect to all who came into their
presence.
This couple, faithful in much, remained as such in
their daily walks. Every morning, they
would drive out to a little country church, park their green ford ranger, and
then walk several miles down the oil and chip and back, so they could return to
their home in town and the tasks their days brought.
The years went on in such a manner, until one fall
they began encountering a younger woman out for her daily run. No words exchanged, but of course always the
warmth of a smile. Perhaps she thought
of them much, perhaps not so much until a need arose. The busyness of youth tends to heed
self-focus instead of outreaching contemplation. But the couple prayed. Every day they prayed for her.
The leaves fell, the winter snow set in, then the
cold began to melt way to the warming of spring flowers. Still faithful, every morning the drive, the
walk, the return to daily life. But this
particular morning dawned anew. As our
couple approached the normal place they met their running friend, she was
nowhere in sight. They walked on and before
long they came upon her, curled into a ball by the side of the road. The older woman rushed to her aid. With a tear-stained cheek and a bloody lip,
the young woman explained her fall and the impending damage, and asked for
help. Immediately, the husband walked as
fast as he could back to the ranger, leaving the two women with life and all
the calamities it brings.
As the young woman sat in her sorrow, she suddenly
thought of this couple, wondering how their life could bring such happiness
when hers had brought much sorrow.
Pain-stricken and tired from the days’ bringing, she looked at the woman
and spoke with a twinge of bitterness, “My life has been full of stench and
heartbreak and ugliness. So I must know,
how do I get what you have?”
The older woman’s face slowly lit with the warmth of
a weathered joy-filled smile. She simply
said, “Most of life on this earth is full of stench and heartbreak and
ugliness. But God is a perfuming,
beautiful love for all who welcome Him in.
Sweetheart, it’s not the details of my life that are any different than
yours, it’s the focus.”
Perhaps the young woman would have left in amazed
shock had the older woman shared the very real, very monotonous, very hardships
of her life. Perhaps the older woman
would have left encouraged had she known that her simple words had the power to
change a life. But perhaps, yes perhaps,
the God of All saw it all and He is the only focal point.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
A Cancer of the Heart
We found out yesterday that a good friend of our family has
cancer. Several months ago our community
found out that a teacher and coach of our local school district for countless
years has cancer. My grandma died of
cancer. Someone you love has probably
suffered from cancer. It is
affecting. It is infecting, as it
reaches its ugly fingers deep into our souls and begins to spread wide its
grasp of debilitating fear, unspeakable pain, and gripping loss. And as I sat my children down to explain to
them, the tears welled in my eyes, as I look at them and know they don’t really
understand, but they know it is serious enough to cause Mommy to cry, so they
should take note and store this recollection for some other rainy day, when
cancer will again rear its ugly head and come a knockin on our door. For though we know not it’s next victim, we know
it’s next victim is inescapable, as are the effects of it tidal waves ripping
through our family, through our world, for endless years to come.
It has made me think about my Jesus. We are in the midst of a service project at
our church. We had sign-up sheets out
for a couple of weeks and very few responded.
So our pastor gives the congregation a talk, call it a guilt-trip if you
will, but I say more of a motivational speech.
And the people of God’s church responded. One member commented that guilt is a good
motivator. And though unfortunately she
is very correct, I couldn’t help respond yes, but wouldn’t it be awesome if
love for Jesus were our greatest motivator.
I mean think about that.
Really stop and think about that.
Imagine all the things we could do for our dying world if we simply
loved Jesus enough to do what he asks of us.
Imagine all the people we could influence if we joined together and died
to ourselves and took up our cross and followed him. Not just gave verbal recognition of our love
for Him, but demonstrated our love for Him in this, that we lay down our lives
for our friends, for our brothers, for people we don’t even know.
But instead we as Christians have allowed Satan to implant
cancer into our hearts. And it is
affecting. It is infecting. It is reaching its ugly fingers deep into our
souls and spreading wide its grasp of debilitating fear to speak up,
unspeakable pain that we refuse to share for fear others will judge us or that
we won’t measure up, and gripping loss as we lose out on the best opportunity
to be fully well-living a life for Jesus as the Holy Spirit fills us to the
point of bursting out onto everyone around us.
Satan’s cancer has moved into our hearts and convinced us that attending
church is just one more event on our calendar.
I’m tired of cancer.
I’m tired of showing up but not really getting in the game. I’m ready to engage. And I’m ready to fight like a child of God.
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