My thoughts and realizations as I walk through life
It looks different around here and there’s a reason for that. I needed a change. So I made one. I am now writing at Toil and Joy and will be there for the foreseeable future.
This space has served me well, but as it goes, all things change eventually.
Feel free to follow me over at my new digs. I’ve got a couple new articles written over there and I’ll be attempting to write more regularly. But as we’ve learned in the last year or so, it will be as the Lord wills.
Peace and love.
These are outrageous times; prone to invoke rage.
I recently had a friend post a picture of a news article on facebook. She was outraged by the article and was calling for a boycott. This is what the article said “Bibles Pulled from Barnes and Noble for the outdated idea that all humans are made in the image of God”. My friend was rallying the Christian troops to arm up and take on this terrible injustice. She was so angry.
She was also deceived. Because what she didn’t realize is that she was posting a popular Christian satirical website called Babylon Bee and the story wasn’t true. Not that it matters that much, but Barnes and Noble are still selling Bibles.
Could we be in anymore confusing times? Technically yes. If you know anything about history, this isn’t actually that unprecedented. Although, there is technology. And that new bit of invention has made what we’re all experiencing now in 2020 very unique. Nothing is new to the Lord, but a lot is new for us.
However, as Christians we have a special responsibility in this moment. In the midst of the confusion it is our duty to be calm and reasonable. And in order to do that we need a lot of wisdom.
Wisdom like Proverbs 16:23-24, that says…
The heart of the wise makes his speech judicious and adds persuasiveness to his lips. Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.
What we learn in this text is that wise people win others by speaking sweetly and seeking to learn. Foolish people are plenty with their words but they kill the soul.
Wisdom isn’t wisdom when it doesn’t shut up and it never gives life. As a culture, we really value the kind of wisdom that looks a lot like winning a debate. (Don’t get me wrong, there is time for debate.) But what wisdom actually looks like is, being teachable slow to speak, kind in speech, not fighting back, refraining from responding and not getting the last word in. That’s what wisdom looks like. And that could not be more antithetical to our world today.
As Christians there are so many things to be angry about when we look at society today. And you may be feeling the tension in your spirit now. But, I think we can all agree that shouting the loudest is not the answer.
One of the most common ancient uses of honey was to heal wounds and soothe pain. Gracious words can do that. They can heal and soothe. And they can also mend, restore, console and relieve the pain inside another person. Our words are powerful and they can build up or tear down. So what are your words doing?
Here’s another Proverb to help us. Proverbs 16:32-33 says…
Whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city. The lot is cast into the lap, but it’s every decision is from the Lord.
In other words, being patient with others proves our trust in the Lord. We can say all we want that we trust God. But we prove it by how we respond to our own anger.
When this was written, military prowess was held in the highest regard. Someone who is mighty would look like a person that can take back a city, who can raise the loudest cry and be the the most powerful. But the exact opposite is true. Those who know how to rule their own spirit (their own anger) are the true mighty ones. The person that has no control over their anger is not the strong one but the weak one. He is the captive not the conquerer.
Ray Ortlund says, “Conquering a city is child’s play compared with ruling the turbulent, demanding, upset world inside us. The one is only the battle of a day. The other is the conflict of a lifetime.”
So who are we most concerned about conquering? Everyone around us? Society? Or our own wayward spirit?
Verse 33 is the antidote to all of this. Because when we trust God, there is no need to burn hot with anger, or lash out or try to take control back. We cast the lot of our prayers into the ears of the Lord and then we let Him have His way. And trust that His way is better than ours. Of course, the best example of this wisdom is in Christ.
1 Peter 2:23 says,
When Christ was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.
Let that sink in.
Of all the righteous scenarios to fight back in the history of the world, that would be the one! And yet, Jesus went to the cross as meek as they come. He was led to be slaughtered, having done nothing wrong and what did he do?
He calmed his tongue and trusted the Lord. Perfect humility unto death.
How different we respond when we are mildly inconvenienced or when we see something we don’t like. We can justify our anger up and down. But for Christ.
What does this mean?
Before we hit send on our outrage, we must think about Christ. His willingness to mute his anger when his own rights were taken from Him, ought to speak very loudly when we find ourselves outraged when minor comforts are taken from us. With this in mind, let’s adjust ourselves to the times we’re in with wisdom by putting on the humility of Christ. When anger arises, may we conquer it with a deep trust in the Lord’s will.
In these confusing times, let’s not jump to unreasonable irritability towards everyone around us. But instead be a calm presence of grace. Being quick to listen and slow to anger.
And let’s win a watching world by letting only honey spill out of our mouths.
This morning whatever wheels that were keeping our quarantine homeschooling moving forward effectively fell off. And the cart crashed. And went up in flames.
Smoke is still rising.
Yesterday began week 4 of this new form of school and week 6 of isolation, so I suppose a collision was inevitable. And it seems far from recovery even now, much later in the day.
Many memes, gifs and texts (with way too many poop emoji’s) have been shared with friends as weird therapy to get through this surreal reality we’re all together but separately enduring. “How many more walls will be hit?” we jointly yet independently wonder, as we take each day at a time, telling ourselves it won’t last forever.
In unison, yet very much apart from each other, we are experiencing this thing. Sure, some are suffering more, either from the virus or death, pain or loneliness, job-loss or financial burdens, marital trouble or parenting upheavals…all of the above. And some are mostly unaffected, going to jobs and managing home as usual, just with more lines in the grocery store and less toilet paper access.
Others have taken to conspiracy theories for answers. Digging deep into the mire of the internet to find meaning in wild ideas and stories of maniacle corruption – breeding discontent and hate for authority.
Wherever you find yourself on this scale, we are united in this. All of us turn on the news at night or in the morning and hear the same information about the latest news and all of us go to bed at night wondering what kind of future awaits us.
And there’s anxiety. And confusion. And fear.
A lot of platitudes go around when things like this happen. They’re meant to bring us together and make us feel part of the solution to this big problem. Covid 19’s catch phrase is “We’re all in this together”. Six feet apart but definitely together. And we are in this together, because all of us need to abide by the rules so that this whole thing can finally end. It’s a joint effort. And it’s nice to see the hearts on people’s windows (we have them) and hear the 7pm cheers for medical workers. All of it is touching and sweet and there is nothing wrong with that.
It’s just that platitudes don’t take the anxiety away. It might act as temporary relief from the reality we find ourselves in. Much like the memes and gifs that are passed around. They take the edge off. It’s just that the edge always comes back. Particularly when you’re trying to sleep. Or when you wake up at night for the forth time. Or when you open your eyes in the morning to embark on a day that you know will be identical to the last 40 days. It’s in those moments that pithy statements lose any ability to relieve stress, confusion or fear.
We are still in the middle of something none of us have ever experienced before and there is no way out of it. We have to keep waking up and doing the same thing. And if you’re anything like me, you find yourself twitchy by the end of the day because of it. But I’m twitchy because I’ve noticed something in me. I’ve recognized something terrible. The folly of my own heart – how small my understanding is.
I say I’m not afraid, particularly in conversation with other christians (because that’s the proper answer to give). However, that’s not true. No, I’m not frantic, or panicked, or racing from store to store stockpiling items for the apocalypse. But I am twitchy. I am getting less patient with my children. At times I give into confusion and wish things were back to the way they were. I’ve experienced grief over all the losses this season has brought.
Feeling all of these things isn’t wrong. We need to feel it in order to get through it. However if I’m being honest, every one of these emotions has been brought on by an underlining feeling of what I’ve been denying – fear.
I’m afraid life won’t be the same when this is all done and I won’t have all the little luxuries of life I’m used to (as gross as that is to admit). I’m nervous that things will be different forever and that the world my kids grow up in will be even scarier and more ominous than I already felt like it was. I’m concerned that the wheels on the school cart will never be put back on and the smoke that’s rising will continue to billow for weeks to come.
And what of church and gatherings of friends and concerts and sports and and and…?
What I realize now is that I’ve been fearing the wrong thing. Consider the very strong language of Isaiah 8:11-13. In this text, Judah and Jerusalem were stressed about a crisis over land wars, and amidst that fear God gave Isaiah this provocative message.
For the Lord spoke thus to me with his strong hand upon me, and warned me not to walk in the way of this people, saying: “Do not call conspiracy all that this people calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. But the Lord of hosts, him you shall honor as holy. Let him be your fear, and let him be your dread.
My fear is misplaced. And the fear you’ve been denying may be as well.
How tempting it is to try and solve problems with conspiracies or to fear everything everyone else is fearing. When, who should we really fear? This text is clear – the God who ordains illness and causes storms and allows tribulation. Fear GOD.
But how is that comforting? You may wonder.
It comforts because He is also the one that heals the sick, and calms the waves and He’s the only one who can inject joy into affliction. He also calls us to pray – which means the sovereign God of the universe wants US to talk to HIM. To call on his name and walk in this unknown with him securely by our side. He longs for His people to return from wandering in self-centred ways and embrace His will that is better than ours.
Fear Him.
We aren’t called to be skippy, twitchy Christians who spout platitudes or spin conspiracies in order to feel better or more in control of the situation. We are meant to fear God and in doing so, perhaps we too will be able to truly echo Paul’s words when he said, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength”. (Philippians 4:12-13)
This is our call.
When homeschool is a fail and marital fights break out and confusion about finances are the daily battle – console your bewildered heart with the holy God. Honor Him by setting Him above it all. Find your strength for the day, not in your own wisdom or weak understanding, but in the fear of the holy God. The One who gives and takes away.
Reorient your fear and find comfort there.
The rain is pounding the pavement at the moment. It’s getting darker outside. And much, much wetter as well.
My daughter has just poked her head into my room as I write and blew a New Years Eve gold and silver horn. She’s skipping over to my bed where our cat Maybe is sleeping peacefully. Her peace has officially been disturbed, as Lucy hugs her tightly and lays beside her.
Aside from this noisy moment the house has been quiet and pensive.
It’s 4:10pm and were all waiting for our friends to arrive so we can eat good food, drink good spirits and celebrate the years finish. The decades finish, actually.
I spent the day decorating the house with gold and silver and black New Years decorations, not because we’re having a big party (Only two people will be joining us four tonight) but because a little pomp and circumstance is needed in order to enjoy life. In my opinion.
2019 is officially coming to an end. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so painfully nostalgic and reflective this month. When a year ends its natural and normal to take stock, remember the big moments of the year and plan for the next. But when a decade ends, something else happens. We do all those same things, just with the weight of knowing 10 years of our lives has now passed us by.
It’s heavier.
Time – it’s burdensome. We all want more of it and yet it’s the thing that fleets the fastest and hurts the hardest.
The last 10 years have been spent in two worlds for me. In the throws of ministry from three different churches and in the dizzying experience of parenting young children. We’ve lost some family and we’ve gained some too. We’ve travelled, wrestled, laughed, fought, failed, graduated, cried, created and moved.
We’ve learned a lot and discovered how much more we have to learn.
Time has allowed many things and by God’s grace there is still much time to fill and make the most of. We can’t know much about what’s to come, but we can take guesses. The next 10 years will likely be some of the most important years of parenting – and maybe even ministering as well.
The next 10 will surely bring more tears, more loss and more change. I can only imagine the lack of sleep. Wrinkles and greys bought by anxiety and grief. Who else will we loose? What else will we fail at? I know there will be sin. I know there will be affliction. I know this for sure.
But there will have to be joy too. And laughter and forgiveness and battles won. There will be new lines in our skin created by smiles and belly laughs. Because as dramatic as teenagers are, they’re also rather funny. And I will have two of them. There will be new music to dance to and new books to feed the soul.
What more will we learn? Who else will become a good friend?
The fleet of time is most grievous when that time has been wasted. When we miss the moments that matter or avoid them all together. But when we embrace it and see everything in it’s time, the thought of it becomes easier to bare.
“There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Time ticks on but all within its own purpose.
Thank you Ecclesiastes for being the inspiration for a great song and also for giving words to the wonder, pain and joy of time. The fact that it can seem all together meaningless and also deeply worthwhile – sometimes within the same moment.
“So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun.” ~ Ecclesiastes 8:15
Living is painful business but it’s all the more reason to celebrate. Take stock, remember, repent, forgive, move on and enjoy the time in front of you. Put up silly decorations and add some pomp to the day. Eat, drink and celebrate.
There is rumbling downstairs and I can tell everyone is getting wrestless. It’s 5:03pm now and our friends will be arriving soon. Perhaps I’ll make everyone some hot chocolate. With whip cream. Because, why not? The rain hasn’t let up and the breeze is cold. Might as well accompany the toil with joy.
Happy New Year!
Happy New Decade!
The evangelical world can be ugly.
And this week has unearthed some of that ugliness right before the eyes of the church and beyond. I wish it wasn’t like this. But it is and will always be.
For those of you unaware, a video clip of famous leader and preacher John MacArthur has gone viral from a conference that occurred over the weekend. During what looks like the Q & A portion of the conference John MacArthur is asked to give a one or two word response to certain words. The first Word? Beth Moore. A flash of chuckles rumbles through the audience before MacArthur finally respond’s with “Go home.” Making the auditorium burst into cheers and laughter.
This was a deeply disappointing response. It was unloving, arrogant and ungodly. In fact, it was just kinda gross.
When my husband and I were dating and young in our faith John MacArthur was a hugely positive influence in our discipleship. He preached the Word in a way that gripped us and made us want to go deeper ourselves. We read his books and listened to his teaching; we’ve been blessed by John MacArthur.
Over the years our world has opened to new voices of wisdom, new teachers, and new books. Yet we’ve held his influence dear.
But I can’t and won’t defend this. He knows better and no amount of good legacy can make what he said right. Also, this isn’t new for MacArthur whose built a lot of his ministry on polemics; who and what he’s against. It’s really not the first time he’s unapologetically made less-than-careful sweeping judgements about people who are in fact his brothers and sisters in Christ. People he will live in heaven with. His eternal neighbors.
I do not agree with everything Beth Moore says. Nor do I agree with every secondary issue she takes a stand on. But as far as I know, she has never said anything definitively heretical. And she has worked tirelessly for years to see women come into the presence of the Lord through His Word. Before it was cool, Moore has sought to love and teach women the Bible.
She is my sister-in-Christ. She’s also John MacArthurs.
Which makes what he said and did in public to the cheers of others this weekend a sin against his family member from the household of God.
It was in direct opposition to James 3:9-10,
With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?
No it can’t. It’s simple hypocrisy to worship Christ at a conference, then turn around and curse someone with the same mouth.
This was sin. And I hope and pray he apologizes.
Popular blogger and TV personality, Jen Hatmaker responded in a lengthy post, which I read and emphatically nodded in agreement through. That is until her qualms became about the doctrine and not the man.
Here’s the thing, and let’s make it crystal clear, this frustrating display of male misogyny does not indict God. And it does not indict His Word. It is never good hermeneutics to make huge theological leaps when a sinner acts like a sinner.
I understand the impulse to say it’s MacArthurs complimentarity that made him say those things. But if we did this with every other theological doctrine, we’d have to throw out all of them. Christian’s are still sinners. Christians who espouse both liberal and conservative theological views still sin every single day. Which means if every time I sinned in large or small ways my beliefs went on trial, they would never leave examination. Human sin should not incriminate biblical doctrine.
We must hold the magnifying glass over the Bible, not the human – over Jesus, not his people – in order to know truth.
Indeed the hope is that God’s people would always be loving, would never curse others and would act rightly in all situations. We should be better. However sanctification takes a long time and we are often slow learners. All of us. Even the big named ones.
For this reason we must ask the question “What does the Bible say about gender and equality?” Not “what does John MacArthur or Jen Hatmaker or (insert your favourite pastor here) say about gender equality?” Because God and His inspired Word sits way above them all.
Think of the good that could have come if MacArthurs “one word” response to that baiting Beth Moore question was simply…”sister”. What if he went on to say that he doesn’t agree with everything she says, but she’s his sister and for that, he loves her. What if he had funnelled his thoughts about her through the sieve of the beatitudes before he ever opened his mouth.
And what if we treated, even the people we disagree with, with that kind of dignity and respect?
Then and only then will the world know us by our love.
Let this be a lesson to all of us on how our words reveal our heart. How a thoughtless quip, even one that invokes laughter, can tear down a fellow saint in the faith and damage our reputation and good biblical doctrines.
Oh church, let’s do better.
There is a commercial that comes on all the time that sends a chill up my spine every time I see it. The scene is of a woman giving herself (in many forms) a pep-talk about how she can do it all. She can get everything done for Christmas because its up to her to make Christmas great for her family. I have no idea what this ad is trying to sell, which is the case for most modern advertising, but this one sticks with me.
It sticks because it’s playing into the absolute absurd notion that we, as moms, have one job at Christmas, and that is to run ourselves ragged making it magical for everyone in our family. We must be prepared for anything and everything at all times, without fail.
This reality sits anxiously on the shoulders of each and every mom this time of year.
I felt it this weekend when I realized a terrible error in our plans made for us being double booked and my kids would potentially have to miss seeing their cousins on Christmas. The disappointment and feelings of failure radiated through my bones, not just for an instant or evening but until the problem was finally solved a few days later; when our precious schedule had been balanced again.
If your anything like me, you’ve definitely starred blankly at your calendar at least three times this month just soaking in all the things. Because there are so many things. And you’ve probably forgotten some of the important stuff already, like the costume for the School pageant and the baking for the fundraising bake sale, and the gift card for the bus driver. I certainly have.
How do we do it all and what if something gets missed? If you don’t happen to be a super laid-back mom who takes everything in stride and looks good doing it and your anything like me, which is the exact opposite of that unicorn-of-a-mom than you are recognizing the seriousness of the home-stretch of this day. Today, the week before Christmas. This is the last week to get it all done. And you may be weary and wondering what the point of any of it even is.
I ask you to take a moment. Breath in and out and ponder 1 Kings 8 with me.
Let me set another stage. Solomon has brought the Ark of the Covenant into the now-complete Temple, and says a prayer of dedication in honor of the momentous occasion. Because the moment was indeed momentous as the presence of the Lord would now reside in the Temple. This was historic for the Israelites and everyone present would have known it.
Especially Solomon.
But then Solomon starts to pray. And he utters these words,
“But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you; how much less this house that I have built!”
Solomon understood the greatness of his God and he admits the inadequacies of his own hands. The Temple was an architectural masterpiece. Solomon could have thought himself a genius for constructing such a building. He could have thought himself as one of the greatest Kings to walk the earth as he built the structure the Lord would reside in. But he doesn’t.
He knows his little Temple could never contain such a grand God. He knows his sinful hands could not erect a home big enough for the Lord.
And yet, the Lord chose to dwell among them in this fashion.
Think of Jesus becoming flesh. Becoming a child. His mother and father could touch Him and hug Him. His disciples could sit at His feet and learn from Him. He became flesh, fully human and fully God.
He chose to dwell among us this way. Even though His grandness surpasses all of our understanding. Even though He holds all things together, and with His Word creates and calms. He chose to become bound by skin, so that He could not only have compassion on us, but be empathic to our struggle. So He could bare our sin and die.
He is that good and that grand. No temple can contain Him and yet he dwelt among us in the most personally intimate way. God – with us. With His people. Who need Him so desperately.
Dear weary mom, the magical Christmas you are trying to create pails in comparison to the majesty of Christ. And thats ok. If you find yourself paralyzed by the to-do-list (or you haven’t been able to get passed me mentioning giving a gift to the bus-driver), sit down, walk away from your calendar, breath and take in the Saviour.
It’s not up to you to make Christmas magical.
Jesus already did that.
November…
Creeping in I start to sense a greater weakness of spirit. I’m more tired and less active. I get lost in thought and my emotions get quicker than usual. I blame it on the weather or work, or the kids or whatever seems like a relevant answer in the moment.
It’s November, which marks a significant anniversary and yet every year it sneaks up like a shadow in the night.
I never think it’ll be as bad as it ends up being. I’m stronger now and more removed than ever, I tell myself. I’ve also done so much healing work, which for some reason makes me feel like I’ll be invincible. Sure, the pain sits with me everyday, it’s just that I’m so used to it now that it feels tamed and trained. I don’t even notice it anymore.
But then in walks November, and like muscle memory the grief returns. It doesn’t matter that its been 4…9…11 and now 15 years. 15 years. Each year is another year without him. Another year he doesn’t see me or them. My kids; his grandkids…
Saying that hurts. Right now it hurts more than every other day. In February or July or September I can reminisce and wonder and feel sad in a way that doesn’t feel like a being struck by a jarring ice-cold wave. But this week…the week before the anniversary. It’s the wave.
I don’t anticipate it, nor do I plan for it. But there it is. Every year. The wave.
It’s just too painful. I just wish I could call him. Like I always used to. I’d call and we’d chat about this and that. I’d have so much to say and tell him. He was so good at acting excited for me even if he wasn’t. The memories have faded though, which I hate. It was so long ago.
The weight of grief is heavy and thick. Deep and wide. And we were never intended to wade these horrible waters. In the beginning of time, it wasn’t supposed to be part of the human experience. Which is why it feels terribly foreign. No, I shouldn’t be surprised by it and most times I’m numb to it. But these days, this week…it feels alien and strange, which just makes me angry.
I wait impatiently for the consummation, when this wrong is finally righted.
Death. Seperation. Grief.
This defect is so completely erroneous and corrupt, the sorrow of it heaps in quantities too much to bear. At least, in November it does for me.
Unexpectedly the dark swell rush’s me without warning. And then I’m left in the aftermath, catching my breath as memories…the painful ones charge my mind and hold hostage my hope. The hope that helps me put my feet on the ground each morning as I ready myself for the day. Hope that tells me, “I don’t know anyones heart”…and reminds me that I may one day see him again.
Hope that reads the good Lords words…love always hopes…so I can move forward out of the dark waters back into the warmth of that precious faith that tells me all will be right and well in the end.
But in November, after the wreckage of that unpredictable surge, I have to fight.
Fight for a steady Spirit and the promises of the Lord. Fight for hope. Fight myself, my heart and this agonizing world. I have to fight to get myself out and face another day. And for when I can turn that pesky lion-like grief back into a domesticated pet that I’ve trained to cooperate with normal daily life.
Until then, I remember. And I wish it weren’t so. And I miss the man I called dad. The man my kids never got to call grandpa…
I let the pain rock haphazardly in the ripples of this aching grief that the dark wave produced in its wake. Until it moves on and the weather of time changes again. Which it will, as it always does.
But until then…here it is, swaying wildly in the mist…unencumbered. Grief.
Every year is the same. October hits, and every store on the planet pulls out its most silly and disgusting Halloween decorations which in turn forces me to explain to my children about the reality of both death and evil, yet again.
We have these conversations throughout the year, of course, also. But this time of year brings with it so many kinds of visual reminders that turn into nightmares for my kids. October brings nightmares. Because there’s no other time of year that my kids are exposed to fake decapitated heads, bloodied limbs and horrifying masks hanging in the grocery store. Halloween, however, gives permission for all kinds of disgusting fantasies to be flaunted.
It’s perfectly suitable in October. Even though every other season, most would deem it despicable.
And it’s usually the Christian who stands up in aggravation of such behavior. And to some degree we should. At least to try and protect the eyes of our little ones and guard their hearts and spirits.
As adults we can see past the hype for fun to the truth behind it all. That truth being, we live in a world filled with people who love to mix up light and darkness. And so we ought to echo Isaiah’s lament of woes in Isaiah 5:20.
Woe to those who call evil good
and good evil,
who put darkness for light
and light for darkness,
who put bitter for sweet
and sweet for bitter!
We see that evil is very much real and very much prodded at for our enjoyment this time of year. Christians should be the ones who see this with the veil lifted in true clarity.
Filthy wickedness and evil sit in the heart of every human on earth. And death awaits all whose heart is currently beating. And its natural for us to be consumed with wonder over the thought of death and what comes after. Every soul ponders the mysteries of it, knowing full well it will take us all.
Yet the Christian sits in peace at the thought.
For the Christian, we think of that day and see it for what it truly is – a moment that takes us from one reality to another. And for this reason we can echo the apostle Paul in his mockery of death in 1 Corinthians 15:54-55…
When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come to pass: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”
The world makes light of death by celebrating and encouraging the depravity within, having no idea what is awaiting them. They should tremble in fear, but instead they embrace the darkness in complete ignorance of its reality.
We, however, can rest assured that our perishing will come but will immediately be consumed in the shared triumph of Christ. And so the sting of that fateful day becomes null. And we can mock it, like Paul does, because it no longer holds any power over us. For all it does is bring final glory. And our desire should be that the world have the same assurance and victory.
Where death, is your sting?! Where is your victory?! Christ has trounced death!
So this Halloween, we ought not to fear, and encourage our kids not to fear also. For death has no hold on us! We must find strength in the good news of the gospel. And we must share the victorious Christ who put death in its place, and numbed the sting of sin.
As you walk around your community and talk to your neighbors, participate not in evil but in the community God has placed you in. Pray for the assurance of salvation that comes from placing full belief in Christ to come to them. And love them…truly love your neighbours. Recognize that they know not what they do, and perhaps they’ve never heard what they ought to know.
Be light in the darkness, for this shadowy world needs it.
A couple of weekend’s ago my family was at a birthday party where my nine-year old son was triggered by a wasp. Being terrified of wasps, he ran towards me screaming and crying. He ran past 4 year olds more composed than himself, and their wondering parents as well.
At first I was embarrassed, I have to admit. But really, I’ve been dealing with these kinds of behaviours since he was a baby. Large groups always bring out the worst. And that many eyes, ushers in a familiar twinge of sheepishness once again.
After I had successfully calmed my son and brought him inside, my friend whose children’s birthday we were celebrating, walked up next to me and asked me if I was ok.
Little did he know, I’d actually been having a rough day in general and the mere kindness in the question was forcing me to push down a well-spring of tears. I answered as jovially as I could muster, “Oh yes I’m fine, but I’m sorry about that!” He looked at me sternly and said, “What are you apologizing for?”…another question to thrust that pesky well-spring closer to the top. I pushed harder to keep from turning this birthday party into a therapy session. I answered, “We just don’t want to be disruptive”. To which he assured me would never be the case, he was just happy our kids were there.
I finally let the well burst open into sobs later that evening in the privacy of my bathroom. All the eyes were gone and it had been a rough day in many ways. But in that moment I was just grateful. We aren’t doing this alone, although some days that’s exactly how it feels.
I haven’t written about this because I haven’t known how to.
How do I even begin to express the range of emotion these last few months have brought up for us as a family?
I don’t know how, so I’ll start with the facts. And the facts begin about 7 years ago after an awkward visit from my mom. I’ve written about it once before…but here we go again.
My son was 2 1/2 and my daughter was just over 1 years old and I was steeped in the stay-at-home-mom-with-littles stage of life. I had two toddler’s and was so new at the motherhood game that most of the time I felt like I was loosing. Particularly when it came to my son. He was challenging, but he was two. So I consoled myself with the reality that every kid is challenging at two. But one thing that was different about my son was that he couldn’t communicate. He had no words. And ever since birth over-stimulation was a genuine issue for him, making him have almost impossible to deal with out-bursts. This stimulation problem brought on a severe issue with night terrors for our little boy, which made us all perpetually exhausted.
One day my mom stopped by for a visit to let me know her concerns for my boy and she encouraged me to get him assessed. I held it together, acting normal and receiving her concerns without revealing the pain vibrating inside me.
She left. And I fell apart.
She didn’t say anything my husband and I hadn’t already noticed, but he was two. And we had prayed for years for God to give us a child. Surely he wouldn’t give us one with special needs. As embarrassing as that is to admit, to my shame – in the dark moments – thats what I thought.
Fast forward to a year later. Assessment time. After many sessions, lots of paperwork and a detailed report, our boy was flagged with a broad learning disability and a few other things, autism not being one of them. Ok. We had answers. We were warned that an assessment at age 3 may not give the best results, but early intervention is the best for kids right? That’s what we thought. Now we had a full report – time to move on.
Moving on, only meant moving into new challenges and new concerns. We experienced an elongated toddlerdom with both kids that seemed to last forever, many child development centre classes trying to teach self-regulation and speech, and night terrors became a very disruptive and serious part of our life that culminated in about 5 years of sleep troubles for our boy and by extention the rest of us.
But the real kicker was school. As soon as school entered the picture, we found ourselves in a new world of wonder that felt a lot like running in the dark. I needed to be the advocate but didn’t even know what to advocate for. Something was still missing. There was a piece to this puzzle still very much unsolved. After more school conversations, doctor and pediatrician appointments, and speech pathologist meetings, we decided another autism assessment was in order.
Fast forward to this past March after another, this time private assessment – our son is in fact, Autistic.
There it is. Our answer. The one we’ve been fighting for, for literally years. There was a strange sense of relief to it. And yet, at the same time deep grief? What a conundrum.
We wanted the answer, just because we wanted a answer. Something definitive, something that made sense and could help us help him. Something. And yet what it means for him, is altogether another thing. What this means for him, is a complete mystery to us. But its a mystery that we’re certain involves great difficulty.
With labels comes clarity. However with labels comes a characterization stamp that may not be true.
It’s a spectrum – this autism thing. You’ve heard the term, and probably know what that means. It means every autistic person is different. The spectrum is wide which makes the term not a cookie cutter term. And we’re still figuring out what exactly that means for our son.
But its a spectrum also in terms of this journey. It’s so many things. We’re so grateful for doctors and care workers and funding and answers and help from those we love. We’re also overwhelmed with lonely uncertainty. It’s been a rainbow of wonder this diagnosis. With layers still not experienced.
Of course, no one can be certain about anything in parenting. Theres no guarantees for any of us – regardless of special needs. And we are so grateful that our son is healthy, and not sick in a hospital somewhere. So many other families have it far worse.
For us though, it’s the little things that reveal the uniqueness of this life we’ve been given. It’s things like needing to prepare an exit strategy when we plan to be at a large gathering, because of the looming threat of over-stimulation and struggle. It’s realizing we can’t go on that road trip to visit friends, because of the turmoil it will create about being far from home for so long. It’s repeating the same command over and over, only to realize I’m using language he still doesn’t understand. It’s the many conversations had before an event where candles will be present because of the terrible fear he has of fire.
It’s trying to decide whats the right way to stretch and challenge him to grow and what is stretching and challenging him too much.
We just can’t do everything, all the other families get to do and it’s always been that way. Now we know why. This has been his whole life. He grows out of some struggles right into new ones, and there’s never a break. Which makes it easy to feel helpless.
Jesus handed us the spectrum and it still feels like we’re running in the dark. Now there’s just a glimmer of light.
Actually it’s a brighter light now that time has passed. Because not only does knowing more intimately the unique way God has made my son help him for the future, it also makes me cling to God all the more. I know for sure, that God made him, so I can’t do this without Him. I need the One who knit my boy together to help me guide and care for him.
My boy is precious and God has privileged my husband and I with the task of raising him up. And when the pangs of loneliness rise to the surface, I know the truth. And the truth is 2 Corinthians 12:9… “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” The grace of Christ is sufficient for me and for my son. God gave us the spectrum and special needs not as a judgemnet but a very needed grace.
We all come to Christ weak. And that’s the mysterious way the Father wants it. It’s for that reason my prayer is that both my children know and feel their weaknesses so strongly that they see their great need for a strong Saviour.
On this spectrum of uncertainty and grief and weakness…the good news is that God’s power is made perfect through it all.
As we approach Easter, it’s important to focus our hearts on the cross again. Often, I’ll intentionally observe lent, choosing to abstain from certain things that take my eyes off Christ. This year has been challenging though. I suppose it’s a spirit is willing, flesh is weak, type situation.
I want to, I really do. But just haven’t been able to. My mental margin is somewhat nil from so many other things pulling in every direction. It’s challenging to focus. So I choose to live in the grace that doesn’t come by earning! Hallelujah!
However, as hard as its been this year to “get into it” I officially give up trying to manage all the nagging things to the neglect of what’s most important. I desire to live in the amazing grace I can’t earn while also re-focusing intentionally on the Easter season. Fully and with both eyes up, pressing in on my Saviour. Boy do I need it.
For this reason, I’m choosing to narrow in on certain aspects of the Cross each week until Easter.
This week’s focus is; Christ as my substitute.
And as I read Matthew I see that one of the first instance’s we witness this substitution taking place is the moment Jesus stands beside Barabbas. You can read it here.
Pontius Pilate has just declared Jesus innocent, but in order to keep a silly tradition he must release one prisoner at Passover. And so there stands Jesus; pure, sinless and falsely charged next to Barabbas; notorious, known murderer. A perplexed Pilate asks the angry mob who should go free…”The king of the Jews”? Or the murderer?
With the chief priests and the elders persuasion the crowd calls for Barabbas to be freed. Sinners calling for the freedom of a fellow sinner. This is the embodiment of sin itself. The desire to see darkness and evil run freely, unencumbered by anything that would shed light, peace and justice.
Barabbas is released. Wickedness unchained. While Jesus stay’s in shackles. The Son of God immediately take’s the place of a murderous revolutionary. The light of the world stands in the place of darkness.
Pilate leaves the fate of the “king of the Jews” in the hands of a blood-thirsty mob. And the ungodly call for His murder. Sin breeding sin. It’s a sess-pool of unrighteousness at this point. And its just the beginning. The shadow that will fall on all those who called for His death is something they could never had prepared for. For they know nothing of what they’ve done.
The blameless one pay’s the price, so the sinner can walk free.
This story begins as Jesus substituting the punishment for Barabbas. And it ends with Him atoning for us all. Even that chanting crowd.
His blood poured out to repair the damage. The damage a murder creates in the heat of the moment. And the corruption of a faulty trial carried out by mob-mentality. The devastation of thievery on the poor. And every other form of sin that takes root in the life of every single human past, present and future.
He stood and received what we deserved to receive.
It is the greatest atrocity the world has ever known. And yet it’s our only hope. Which is the great conundrum of the faith. I hate it and I love it.
As we approach the throne of Christ this Easter season, whether you’re observing lent or not, take time to turn your attention to the One that bore your sin. Let us never become too busy to remember or too bored to care.
Let the shocking sacrifice of your Saviour stir you up again. Allow its offense to rub harshly against your sensibilities. Know the outrage.
And then give thanks.
“Up Calvary’s mountain one dreadful morn, walked Christ my Savior, weary and worn, facing for sinners, death on the cross,
That He might save them from endless loss,
Blessed Redeemer, precious Redeemer, seems now I see Him on Calvary’s tree, wounded and bleeding, for sinners pleading,
Blind and unheeding, dying for me,
“Father, forgive them,” my Savior prayed, even while His lifeblood flowed fast away, praying for sinners while in such woe, no one but Jesus ever loved so,
Blessed Redeemer, precious Redeemer, seems now I see Him on Calvary’s tree, wounded and bleeding, for sinners pleading, blind and unheeding, dying for me”
Lyrics: Avis m. Christiansen (1920), music: Harry D. Loes
hisgracemygrowth 