Grateful Introspection

Sometimes when a person is expressing gratitude, others call their words a "humble brag". Ty explained this to me. The person is actually bragging but contriving to make it appear as simple, and humble, gratitude. 

This phrase, "humble-brag", while it may be accurate, has a negative effect on other people. One cannot be truly grateful for something and express that joy without fearing how it might appear. This, in turn, leads to much less gratitude in the world. FOMO (another word from my children meaning "Fear of Missing Out") paralyses gratitude. Or at the very least, the expression thereof. 

There are moments in life (mine, at least, I cannot speak for others), when the thankfulness wells up and spills over. My friend, Quinn, told me these are moments of Shalom, when things are as they should be. 

I stood outside tonight as the sun was setting. I stood under the Party Tree, now well over twenty feet tall. I stood under this oak tree where the birds were flitting from branch to branch, where the shade was just so, where the small iron chairs from Uncle Don are positioned, and let the peacefulness of the moment soak into my heart. This is the tree I ordered from the Arbor Day Foundation and Chris planted when it was 12 inches tall. This is the tree that started growing when there were no other trees in the man-made hilltop of our front yard. This is the tree my kids used as their pivot point when riding their bikes. This is the tree we hung lights in for Brendan and Rhema's reception. This tree marks the starting point of our life in this house; a measurable, significant, assessable gauge of time. 

My childhood was chaotic and lonely with moments of tranquility. This is probably because my mother was chaotic and, I suspect, lonely, but with moments of tranquility. As I near my 49th birthday next week, I am introspective. I can't help but draw comparisons between my life and my mother's life. I cannot say what she felt on her 49th birthday, but I know it was only three years before she died in a way that gave me PTSD. I know she was mentally ill and angry and almost destitute. I know she exhibited a frantic obsession with leaving us a legacy. 

Today as I stood under our tree I looked at my house. The house Chris, with the help of others, built with his sweat and exhaustion. The house that is now over twenty years old. The house that Maggie said the front of was "#goals". And as I stood and looked around me, I couldn't stop my words.

Thank you, Father, for this house. Thank you for the gift of a home for my family.

Thank you for the flowers that you taught me to grow.

Thank you for the tree that towers over me and gives shelter to the birds.

Thank you for Uncle Don and the generosity of his heart in giving us these sweet chairs. 

Thank you for the cats and the dog who want to be near me.

Thank you for the grass that grows without prickles and is soft under my feet.

Thank you for the woods that surround me and shelter me from the world.

Thank you for the gift of family close by, volitional and other.

Thank you for the sidewalk that my grandchildren will one day draw on with chalk.

Thank you for stillness of the air and the blueness of the sky.

Thank you for this... life. This sweet, precious, peaceful life. This life that I could have never envisioned when I was young and lonely and confused. This life that is also filled with worries and cares and fears and opportunities to trust You.

Thank you, Father, for this taste of heaven until I can be with you in the true and complete Shalom. 

I am so grateful.

Prayer

"And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints." - Rev 5:8

For a long time I struggled with the idea of prayer. For me, it was either a way to manipulate God, or a means of setting myself up for disappointment. My response was to give up. Hide behind the providence, omnipotence, and sovereignty of the Lord. I mean, He can do what He wants, right? What does he need MY prayers for? And if I can change his mind? Well that scares me. I'm too fallible, changeable and fickle.

So where did that leave me?

The Lord sent a dear, dear friend to me. Mrs Karen is an older woman who attends the Springville church. Her suggestion to me was that we just... pray. Sounds simple. But shouldn't I know the point of it? The reason behind it?

Nope. She said, let's just pray. So we did. Every week. For years. We still pray. Not as often as I wish though.

Through this simple exercise of faith-  these stuttering, flailing, confused, contradictory prayers - something mysterious happened. No mountains were moved and it's difficult to even quantify it, but I  think it's that I changed. I stopped viewing God as a far off, disinterested being and began to see him as a Father with Personhood, interested and involved in my life. He told me to pray in  scripture. It's a command. But he WANTS me to pray.

As the verse above illustrates, He values and treasures my prayers. He breathes them in like incense. My prayers. My confused mutterings. That can only mean that he really, truly, ACTUALLY loves me. Why else would he care? He doesn't need me in order for him to be perfect and complete, but he desires relationship with me.

It also shows his glory. He is worthy of my prayers. He alone should be worshipped. My prayers should be to him alone. When I set my hopes in money to rescue me, when I depend on other humans to answer the longings of my heart, it's like giving them the incense that should be in those golden bowls. That's what idolatry actually looks like.

I love this beautiful picture in Revelations. I love the other passages, too. Ones that tell us we have a Great High Priest who identifies with us in our sufferings. So when I'm crying out, he's not rolling his eyes or pushing me away. Or like in Zephaniah where he says that he will quiet us with his love and rejoice over us with gladness and sing over us. So when I'm praying my heart out because of my failures and fears, he's got that big golden bowl of prayers and his love pours over our hearts.

The more I meditate on these things the more I WANT to pray and the less I feel the need to intellectually figure it all out. It's enough to simply pray and add more incense to the bowl.

So Many Plates

This morning I told Chris how overwhelmed with details I felt. His response was a worry free, "But you're really good at it. You'll get it done." So far he's right. The fear is always there though that I won't be able to get it done.

This month has been... I can't even think of an appropriate word. "Overwhelming" sounds too dismal. "Jam-packed" sounds too exciting. Maybe I should just show you a compilation of my lists...

Find Ty a desk

Go to Gadsden to pick up desk

Paint desk

Find Ty a dresser

Go to Anniston to pick up dresser

Paint dresser

Stock Ty's kitchen

Get tires for the van

Get tires for Ty's car

Pay for Ty's parking decal

Check Maggie's financial aid

Check Ty's financial aid

Take Maggie shopping for her new classroom

Go to Brody's pre-op appts

Surgery for Brody

Doctor with Maggie

Post-op with Brody

Deal with insurance

Find Brody's English curriculum

Buy Brody's science and english

Buy Gracie's textbooks

Apply for Jeff State for Gracie

Request transcript

Organize MDO work emails

Email all new students

Print out student handbooks

Make copies and assemble student packets

Help teachers with room set-up

Sell laminator

Contact all Children's Ministry Teachers

Schedule Teacher Training

Plan training content 

Teacher Training

Meet new renters

Tweak and print out new lease

Schedule meeting to sign lease

FIND THE KEYS (ugh)

Get the trailer ready for new tenants

Call the dermatologist 

Plan food for potluck at church

Research and decide MDO book study

Margaret's surgery

Pick up pain meds from WalGreen's

Register for school!!! (for the love)

Find boxes for Ty (but not until next week. no space)

All this plus regular details like buy groceries, pay bills, clean house, answer emails, etc. The above list is copied from my actual lists. I have them divided into urgent/important/maybe-I-can-get-to-it. See what I mean? 

I'm honestly not complaining. It's just life. At times like this it is so easy for me to slip into super-woman mode and MAKE IT HAPPEN. "I will do the work. I will get it done. I will lose sleep and stress out about it." 

But...

I'm learning there is a better way. The way of rest . The way of faith. And it starts with the belief that my identity is not connected to my ability. It continues with the understanding that God truly is sovereign. His plans are good and cannot be thwarted. His yoke is easy and His burden is light. His steadfast love endures forever. He will accomplish all His holy will. 

It's okay for me to keep taking one step in front of the other. It is also okay for me to take ten minutes of down time to meditate on His word. It's okay to rush around. But it's also okay to snuggle with Chris on the couch and forget it all for a bit. Jesus is with me in the crazy. He reminds me of truth, and sometimes he even reminds me of appointments. 

#itsallgood

Weakness and Faith

I've been spending a lot of time in the last two weeks reflecting, meditating and studying weakness and faith, and subsequently, sanctification. I've had some enlightening and disturbing conversations with fellow believers and this morning it is all converging on me in a wave. I, as you may know, process best when I write it all out. Bear with me...

*deep breath*

Weakness.
I usually associate weakness with shame, failure and renewed effort. This is unbiblical. For real. UN-BIBLICAL. Need proof?
Read Romans 8:26: "Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness." Footnote in ESV Reformation Study Bible says, "The Holy Spirit strengthens us in our state of weakness, of which we are constantly conscious. Perplexity as to how to pray for oneself is a universal Christian experience. Our inarticulate longings to pray properly are an indication to us that the indwelling Spirit is already helping us by interceding for us in our hearts, making requests that the Father will certainly answer."
Read I Corinthians 1:25 "For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men." Why am I even trying to do this life on my own? My best effort is foolishness.
Read II Corinthians 12:5-9 "...I will not boast, except of my weaknesses... 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
Read Hebrews 4:15 Christ sympathizes with us in our weakness.
Read Hebrews 5:2 He deals gently with our weakness.

I know that was a lot of reading, but I hope you read it. SLOWLY. Reading it slowly turns it from skimming to meditating.

From these passages I realize that God not only doesn't condemn our weakness, He encourages us to acknowledge it and BOAST in it.

This blows my mind. I work really hard to cover up my weaknesses. Know what happens when I do that? I am actually using my own strength to deal with my flesh. "Trying harder is attempting to add your works to the work of Christ." - World Harvest study on Grace (lesson 4.2) Yep. I do this partly because I don't want others to see it, especially those unsafe people who will use it against me. I do this because I am afraid. BUT this is rooted in the false truth that Jesus is not enough for me in that moment.

This takes me to I Corinthians 1:18-31. Do you know who God chooses to accomplish his kingdom work? Oh, I know," you say, "It's those people with degrees who have all their sh*^ together!" Nope. He chose what is foolish, what is weak, what is low and despised. So what about those people with the outward togetherness? Well. No one was more competent that Paul. He had all of his crap together... and yet... "And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling." 2 Cor 2:1-3 (emphasis mine)

So Paul set aside his gifts, his eloquence, his pride, his togetherness and it left him nauseous. Sick feeling. Shaking all over. Why?

"So your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God." 2 Cor 2:5

This brings my feverish mind to faith.

But can I first just say something? I feel a little nauseous too. I like to function out of my strength, not my weakness. I like to conquer an issue and then stand at the top of the mountain and yell for others to get it together and join me. I do not like the idea of weakness. Here I am reminded of the scene on the slopes of Mordor's Mt Doom. I am Frodo and I've done all I can. I've collapsed in weakness. Sam comes along and picks me up and carries me across his shoulders up the heated, crumbling slope. ... THIS is faith.

Faith is resting across the shoulders of my Jesus and letting him carry me to where I need to go. Francis Schaeffer calls this "active passivity." Not a sheer passivity, but an active yielding of ourselves to God. "Faith involves a choice to yield to the work of the gospel and the Spirit on our part. It is not resignation. We are called to live in dependence on God by choice, on the basis of the finished work of Christ... by faith."

In a study that I have done many times and that has been taught by many of the godliest pastors I know, there is a section called Vague Feeling/Truth. One in particular sticks in my mind. And I quote:
Vague Feeling: Justification is an act of God. Sanctification is what I do.
Truth: Sanctification grows as I focus on my justification. That focus or looking to Christ is called faith. Faith is at the very heart of my becoming holy. While justification and sanctification are two distinct concepts both are a work of grace through faith.

Go get your Bible. Imma bout to blow your mind. Turn to John 6:28-29. For real. Go do it. ...

....

They asked Jesus what they were supposed to be doing to be doing the works of God.

Did Jesus say tithe more? Nope. Did Jesus say go to church? No. Did Jesus say read your Bible more? NO! What did He say? Read it. Out loud.

"This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent."

Jesus said believe.

Against all appearances. Against all other hopes and strategies. Against the mounting evidence to the contrary. Believe.

And if you're having trouble believing, turn to Hebrews 11. What did those lying, cheating, adulterating, murdering, whoring sinners have in common? They believed. They believed that God loved them and chose them and set his love on them. They believed that God would raise their dead and rescue them from certain death and that God was bigger than their physical pain. They were stoned, sawn in two, flogged, mocked and imprisoned. But they also, right there in the middle of verse 34, "were made strong out of weakness."

They were losers, just like me. They screwed up, just like me. They didn't know what the heck they were doing, just like me. But they had a God. A God who chose them above all the peoples of the earth. A God who rescued them from this fallen world "so that they might rise again to a better life."

Oh my heart! Oh my soul!

He is real and He loves us.

My faith is made stronger as Paul says in 2 Cor 12:9 when, "I will boast ALL THE MORE GLADLY of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

The weaker I am, the bigger He is. Can you see that? Can you see what I'm talking about? If I can do all the good things, without ever feeling my weakness (aka fear and trembling) and having to depend on the indwelling Spirit, who is glorified? Me, that's who. Good job, me! The Westminster Confession says that even if we could attain to the greatest height possible in this life of good deeds we would never be able to do any more than our duty and our duty is mixed with sin and corruption. And yet... "Yet notwithstanding, the persons of believers being accepted through Christ, their good works also are accepted in him."

The Westminster Confession also says of this, "Their ability to do good works is not at all of themselves, but wholly from the Spirit of Christ." (chapter 16, section 3)

What I like to do is try harder. What we are told to do many times is to try harder. What trying harder involves is us relying on our will power to break bad habits and our gift packages to do ministry. We experience zero freedom and just manage our sin.

In his book, When Being Good Isn't Good Enough, Steve Brown wrote, "People become antinomian (wild, immoral) for the most part, not because they are rebellious or because they don't care but because they are tired. They become antinomian because they just can't keep on keeping on anymore, because they have tried and failed so many times that trying again seems pointless, because the flesh is weak and they can't deal with the guilt anymore."

I'm here to tell you that if someone, no matter what their title, leaves you feeling condemned, exhausted, joyless and frustrated, rest assured that they are not speaking the gospel of grace to you. An admonition, an exhortation, always starts with a reminder of who you are and ends with who you are, with freedom sprinkled in the middle. We are freed to obey. We are gifted with faith and our lamest attempts and best efforts are accepted because of Jesus.

I had someone ask me once, "If you teach your kids grace, what will keep them from going wild as teenagers?" This reminded me of Romans 5 and 6. Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more! What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!!! You know what has kept my teenagers from going wild? The same thing that has kept their momma from going wild, or from giving up - grace.

Grace alone. By faith alone.

In our 5 Solas, there are no 'by works alone'. Or 'by trying harder alone'. Or by doing our best. Or by striving.
By faith alone
By Scripture alone
Through Christ alone
By Grace alone
with GLORY to God alone.

I'll leave you with this thought. The Law of God is good. But when the Law begins to rage at you, set it aside and cling to the Cross. And go read Galatians 5:1 and repeat it to yourself over and over and over again.

More on spiritual disciplines later. Don't worry about that right now. Give yourself permission to bask in the glow of God's acceptance of you. Learn to gaze upon the face of the One who loves you. HE will add the works that He's prepared for you before the foundation of the world . Relax into his embrace.

Mothering

The past year has been pretty difficult for my family. Death, pay cuts, sadness galore. It's been a year of immense changes. One child has graduated. I have gotten a job. Just these two things alone throw off the carefully created balance of our home. It's hard.

Tonight, after an eleven hour day, I came home to a very messy house. Dishes everywhere, laundry literally thrown into a giant box. Such utter defeat coursed through my body that I couldn't even find the energy for a good cry. It's like that nightmare where you're being chased and you run as hard as you can, but you can't move. Added to the defeat was a nagging sense of guilt.

I verbalized this to Chris in the form of a question. "Why do I feel so guilty asking the children to pitch in above and beyond their list of chores?"

Before he could answer, a voice piped up from the other room. Gracie answered for them, "Probably because we give you heck about it and we shouldn't." Then both my girls appeared and cleaned. They cleaned along side me until my kitchen was clean, the dishwasher running. They sorted the laundry, cleaned off the table. It was one of the most tangible and life-giving examples of grace that I've experienced in a long time.

Even knowing the beauty of the Gospel as well as I do, I still attempt to find worth in my ability to "keep it all together". I still feel like a failure when I can't maintain my standard. I still, over and over, forget that my value, my worth, my identity, is not, NOT, in what I do (or don't do), but in who I am. I am a beloved, valued, adored child of the Most High.

Even when there are 2 day old, soggy pancakes in my sink.

So Much Sorrow, but With Hope

My Nanny is dying. I call my mother's mother "Nanny". I was twelve before I knew that a full time, paid childcare employee was called the same thing.

My oldest daughter is named after her. Margaret Sarah. Nanny's name is Sarah Lou. She had red hair most of my life and was the most competent woman who ever lived.

My grandfather made a habit of starting businesses, getting them stable, then moving on to the next thing. Nanny would run them and do the books until they sold the business. In this manner my grandfather made plenty of money, but he couldn't have done it without Nanny.

At one point when I was a kid, Nanny had my sister and I for the summer, took care of her elderly mother, taught Sunday School, grew a garden and ran a used car lot, a gas station and an electrical supply company.  She graduated from Samford when I was ten.

When they decided to plant a church,  before it was fashionable, Nanny kept the nursery every Sunday for years. Paw Paw would preach the sermon to her on the way.

Nanny always had a kiss for us, even if they were the wettest kisses on the planet. She always licked her lips first. She always kissed Paw paw the most though. She adored him until the Alzheimers stole him from her. They did everything together. Their rv saw almost every state in the continental United States. I can still picture her scratching his head and kissing his cheek. Or making him a sandwich that was half wrapped in a paper towel.

Nanny taught me how to be a wife. Never did a husband have a better, more dedicated help mate. He valued her opinion and sought it out. He recognized that his ministry to the poor was possible because of the dedication and servant's heart of his bride. He knew how to tease her to laughter when she took things too seriously.

I remember a million things about her. The way she would wash my feet before I went to sleep on clean sheets. The way she would keep calling my name until I remembered to say, "ma'am?" The crunch of her homemade pickles and the gag factor of her sweet n low tea. The funny noise her nose made when she sniffed and the sound of her voice singing while she worked. The smile on her face when she saw me. Her favorite flowers planted in the front garden.

I will miss my Nanny. I'm sad that my children never experienced her the way I did. But I know that she's ready. She is ready for heaven and to see her Savior. She's ready to see her husband and her daughter and her parents. She's ready, but I am not.

I will miss her terribly.

Sainsbury's

There's something very different about seeing a place in pictures and going to that place in person. The first time I went to Culcheth, England I wanted to see everything, memorize everything. I paid attention to street names and businesses. I looked at maps and absorbed all I could. ... I did this because one of my best friends was moving there. I wanted to have a picture in my mind when she told me about her day.

"We went to the Cherry Tree for Sunday roast." - I can picture it in my mind. I know where the bathrooms are and what the paintings look like.

"I met a lady in the check out lane at the grocery store." I know where the cereal aisle is and where to find the cheese section. I remember the smell of it.

I can navigate in my mind's eye from the pitch to where the new Quench Cafe sits. I know where my friend Sue's guest toilet is located in her house and what her banafe pie tastes like and where she keeps the plates in her kitchen.

All of these things make England a real place to me. When I think of England, I have memories, not knowledge.

So many preach brokenness and for a long long time I really, truly thought I understood them. I KNEW that I was broken and couldn't save myself. I KNEW I needed a savior. I KNEW God was ever present. I'd seen the photos, read the verses. I knew and trusted to the best of my ability.

Then God showed me himself and all my gift packages and strengths and strategies melted before him. My heart trembled out of terror at my inability. I couldn't pray, only plead. I couldn't minister, only show up. I looked at all my hard work and realized it didn't matter a bit; it wasn't sufficient. It couldn't save anyone, myself included. I felt desperation. A desperation for God, for his presence, for his breath on my face.

When I hear someone speak of brokenness now, it is a memory, a present reality that I plead never goes away.

My complete lack of ability takes me so close to the very throne of God that I can feel his whisper in my ear. He doesn't need my strengths, his are better and stronger and infinite. He doesn't need me to plant a church; it's his bride and he pursues her with a zeal I cannot imagine. He doesn't expect me to be him. He is enough in himself.

I pray that when I feel pretty good about myself, when I think I have something great to offer that is not HIM, I pray that I will remember the smell, the images, the street signs of that blessed brokenness when I had nothing but him and he was more than enough.

"But my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness."