A Change of Plan

One thing this COVID chaos has done for us: it's made us very good at changing plans!

From my observation, people are a lot more understanding of last minute changes; they're more willing to go with the flow; they know now that some events really ARE beyond our ability to forecast and out of our hands to control. We're embracing in new ways Proverbs 16:9: "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." (ESV)

Not to brag, but I feel like I'm really getting good at the whole handling changes in my plans. I'm a planner, so not that long ago, last-minute changes made me CRABBY! But, take Thanksgiving for instance: our first THREE sets of plans all had to be scrapped before we were able to see a plan through to fruition! Friends, it's not often that I have to wait for my fourth round of planning to see some results! Talk about disappointing.

But it was still a good weekend.

We spent Thanksgiving as a family. We used Preston's extra day off (which was supposed to be used to go out of town) to decorate the entire ground floor (and most of the the second) for Christmas. We had lots of time with our precious daughters. I washed the van on the nice Saturday after Thanksgiving (after our third set of plans hit the dustbin). We even started Christmas baking. We had a lovely time, one we would have missed had our first few rounds of plans succeeded.

Yet, often, I fear the change of plans. I think of it as a malicious swipe at my happiness. I have my life laid out in the manner I want it to proceed, and anything that looks like it might change that is a threat. Yet, when God intervenes to "establish" our steps, we know that for the child of God, that can only mean good things (not necessarily pain-less things, but that's another topic...).

I came across an old Christmas hymn a while back called "Creator of the Stars of Night." The second verse has captured my mind the last twenty-four hours:

"Thou, grieving that the ancient curse

Should doom to death a universe,

Hast found the healing, full of grace,

To cure and save our ruined race."

Did you catch it?

Christmas is a celebration of a change of plans!

Back in the garden, Satan saw the crown of God's creation as a chance to wound God. He planted a doubt, fed it with a lie, nurtured a fear. And then humankind, in all our infinite wisdom (we thought), shucked God's rule for our life.

(Yes, it was Eve's hand that reached for the fruit. Yes, it was Adam who was "with her," yet did nothing other than acquiesce. But that seed of sin has woven itself deeply into your heart and mine. We are guilty in our DNA. Do you doubt it? When given the chance, we repeat the sin of our forebears. We, too, wave our fist in the face of the One who made us and scream, "I'll do it my way!")

God said don't, but we thought having knowledge like God couldn't be so terrible, so we ate that fruit. We had plans to be like God, to know good and evil, to take charge of our own existence. What a wonderful thought! What a titillating promise!

And it killed us. Our heart charted its course for damnation.

But (praise be to God!) He had a change of plan in mind. There were other steps He would establish for His children.

When Christ was born in the manger, it was under the shadow of the cross and with the promise of the resurrection. A baby in a manger does NOTHING for anyone without the rest of the story. If our hope of peace on earth and goodwill to men doesn't last past December 25, we're still just as doomed as we were the instant the juice of that fruit hit Adam and Eve's tongues. But if we consider advent as the anticipation not only of Christmas but also as an introduction to the entire church calendar of December through Easter, we see a path charted for us that ends not in death but in life as it was meant to be.

Where our attempt to rule ourselves spelled destruction for us, Christ stepped down and into earth, entered as one of His own creations, and stood in the path of God's righteous wrath. The locomotive of justice that was rightfully headed our way struck the only Son of God full force, entirely satisfying the demands of the law we could never keep.

So what is left for us?

Forgiveness from a holy God; reconciliation with Him, others, creation, and ourselves; the ability to walk in newness of life; an existence ransomed to serve God and enjoy Him forever!

Praise God for changes of plan!

"To God the Father and the Son

And Holy Spirit, Three in One,

Praise, honor, might, and glory be

From age to age eternally!"

The Darkness has Not Overcome

Fear is sneaky.

Most days, especially when the sun is shining, I can function normally and leave the rest to God.

But then there are the times when the days have been gloomy and the girls have been testy and night falls and I'm left feeling like the locomotive of COVID-19 is barreling down the tracks toward my family and it's only a matter of time til it hits and all I can do is hunker down and wait.

On one such night last week, I actually did something right about my emotions. I talked to my husband (who's been a voice of calm in the insanity of the last few weeks) and then went up to bed and opened my Bible.

(I'm working my way through "The Story," an adaptation of the NIV that presents the words of Scripture, while in selections, as one continuous story. Reading it is much like reading any other book, with breaks for chapters rather than separate books with chapters and verses. While there are brief editorial breaks to explain themes or summarize missing sections, it's largely simply the Biblical text, and it's been a nice way for me to get a new perspective on passages that otherwise have become rote.)

I opened to my bookmark, and this is the first thing that met my eyes.

That's where the stirring of the Holy Spirit stopped me, and what I believe He impressed on my heart was exactly what I needed at that moment. I'd like to share it with you, in the hope that you may be encouraged, too. It's maybe not completely cohesive, but hopefully it's coherent!

In the beginning - As God was speaking planets and molecules into existence, He already knew that the year AD 2020 would find a pandemic sweeping the globe.

He knew it all: the beginning of COVID-19 in China; Italy's anguish; that hospitals would be unprepared; the steady creep of the disease from our continent's coasts toward its interior. He already knew every detail of what was coming, including the ones we don't know yet.

He isn't surprised; He isn't less good; He isn't less in control.

the Word - Jesus, "the Word," is the sum total of God's message to humanity. He's the culmination of everything God had said before the New Testament, everything God has promised to say to His people, and everything God is ever going to say. Think of it! All this embodied in one 33-year life on planet Earth. (Spoiler alert: His life and teaching still have ramifications for us today!)

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. - Seventh grade science tells us humans are made when an egg and sperm fuse to become a zygote. This mono-cellular carrier of a complete genetic code has all the information necessary to bring into being a fully functioning adult man or woman.

John, the writer of the above passage, tells us that it is actually an egg, a sperm, and God who make each person (although maybe not in that order...).

Psalms says God knitted my children together within my womb.

This is an issue of personal workmanship!

If I take pains that the frisky cat not claw up the afghan I crocheted - if I delight in the art and craftsmanship of my hand and my husband's and our friends' - if I hang these things on my walls and store them gently when they're not on display - how much more does my God care for the two miraculous lives He designed, built, and brought to life? We're not guaranteed a pass on suffering or even on infection, but He knows. He understands. My fear, my attempt to trust, my weakness in the face of the unknown, all of it.

And He loves my daughters more fiercely even than their mommy and daddy do, and He will work all things to good. They are safe in the hands that made them. (And while I still pray that my husband and I will be allowed to raise our children to adulthood, I also thank God for allowing us to raise them this day.)

life/light - In this time of disease, we understand our need for life much like we understand our need for light only when in a dark room in the middle of a power outage. Jesus possessed the life that was the light of all mankind.

And we killed it.

The darkness in you and the darkness in me rose up and extinguished Him. (We spend a lot of time talking about the good in everyone, but why would we put so much effort into proclaiming our goodness if there wasn't actually darkness - sin - there, too?)

He was dead.

Gone.
Kaput.
Laid in a grave.

(Have you been to a funeral? Looked in a casket? Seen it prepared to be lowered into the ground? How many of those people do you see walking down the sidewalk a week or two later?)

And for two days, it looked like the darkness had overcome.

But.

But then?

Then came Easter morning.

Preparing for the Resurrection

No one prepared for the first resurrection.

We look through the Biblical record now, with the perspective of centuries, and see Jesus plainly telling His disciples of, preparing them for, His death and resurrection.

Yet when He came bursting out of the tomb, His followers were still in mourning. Mary Magdalene looked an angel in the face as he told her, “He is alive,” and she still sought His mutilated body.

“How could they have missed it?” we wonder sagely. With the exception of the extravagantly generous woman of Mark 14:3-9, no one saw Calvary - or Easter - coming. Defeat didn't fit their picture of the expected messiah. There was no room for humiliation and death in their version of what the christ would achieve.

We can fill hours with the prophecies they missed, misinterpreted, and overlooked. Starting in Genesis, God prepared His people for a Rescuer who would be bruised (3:15). But they wanted a rescuer who would fill the stomachs of his followers with food, who would drive out their oppressors in the vein of the Maccabees, and who could raise his army from the dead if need be.

Jesus didn't fit their ideal. And if their ideal wasn't fulfilled, they concluded, He must not have been The One.

Which is what makes the High Holy Days of the Church calendar an excellent time to ferret out our own beloved idols. Certainly, if the very people who walked the dusty roads beside Jesus missed His true nature, we who are distracted by books, screens, and thousands of voices bombarding us daily might also have some false ideas of our Savior.

• Maybe you've bought into the idea of a god who dispenses favor for those who check off all the items on his holy to-do list.
• Maybe your version of idolatry is a god who leaves you alone as long as you live a decent life.
• Maybe you think god is out to get you, just waiting for you to give him an opening to zap you.
• Maybe your god made you the way you are and would never dream of asking you to change a single aspect of your life.
• Maybe god made you basically good and wants you to follow your heart.

This isn't a comprehensive list, so if you're sweating over whether or not I'll mention your pet misbelief, don't let my omission quench the Spirit of conviction. I can identify a few, mostly because they've had to be weeded out of my own life. (I've still got plenty. I know, because the Holy Spirit tends to let me know about them from time to time, usually when I'm feeling most comfortable and smug with myself.)

Does it matter? Don't our little beliefs comfort us?

But if they're false ideas about God, we are in fact worshiping a false god. We form God in our image, and wonder why He doesn't perform to our specifications. We can even find Scriptures to support our beloved baals, for heaven's sake! So don't think, because you can give a reference that backs you, that you have an exclusive claim to understanding an aspect of God.

This Lent, and in your celebration of Easter, ask God to show you where you have worshiped an idol rather than the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

He will answer, because He is in the business of revealing Himself.

It's why we have Easter, after all.

Clocks, Cursive, and Dinosaurs

I came across an interesting Facebook post a while back. Someone was lauding a decision by a British school to no longer teach children to read analog clocks. He compared it to American public schools removing cursive from their curriculum and celebrated both decisions as education removing archaic burdens that no longer have a place in our technological century. I disagreed, but looking at the comments, realized that it had become a collection of long arguments. I wasn't about to engage in that, since I was primarily on Facebook for 3 minutes of entertainment and not to enter into a debate with adults subtly calling each other dumb. Besides, I hadn't fully formulated my reasons for disagreeing with the person's conclusions. (Plus, Facebook is a poor forum for debate or objective analysis . . .)

A week or more later though, I was having trouble falling back to sleep after a nighttime feeding for Baby, and I found my mind cycling through the cons to the school's decision. That's when I realized that I did care.

First, I decided, it's hard to call any morally-neutral learning useless.

One fairly well-known analogy for understanding the brain is the brain as a muscle. Researchers have seen it light up on scans when learning occurs, and we know that new learning prepares it for more learning. Memorization, new skills, new knowledge, aid in brain plasticity, which creates a healthy brain environment. Seriously, if people can make an argument for learning Latin, a dead language, surely knowing how to read a clock face - something that is still present in nearly every life setting - could be a good life skill. (Yes, practically everyone has a cell phone in their pocket now to aid them should they not be able to read the time, but do we really want our children to be MORE dependent on their phones?)

We also know that skills we learn when younger stay with us longer and integrate into a level of naturalness better than those learned later in life. Examples from my life of things I learned early and used often: tying shoes, playing piano, writing papers, cooking, cleaning, typing, and gardening. On the other hand, later in my life, I've attempted to learn to play the guitar, speak Spanish, write in italics, and format a paper in the APA style, with varying degrees of success. I can adapt the first list to my needs now, even if they're not used strictly in the exact nature in which it was taught (I don't write papers anymore, I blog; I don't often sit at a computer and type, but I'm familiar with the keyboard on my phone screen for texting; I don't always wear shoes with laces, but I can make a lovely bow when decorating gifts or craft projects). The things I wasn't taught when I was young aren't available to me in the same enriching way. Just because the application of a skill (like writing in cursive or reading an analog clock) may be elusive, it doesn't mean we need to send it the way of the dinosaurs.

Secondly, kids don't need a dumbed-down environment; they need a healthy one.

When I say this, I don't mean Lysol wipes and rubber mats. (Did you know that there is a recent trend to make playgrounds less "safe"?) Even the church has fallen prey to this one. Sunday school and youth group is plagued by curriculum filled with bite-sized theology. We pull kids out of the large group in the church service and send them off to children's church. (If you think I'm getting away from the morally-neutral premise of the first point, I'm not. How are kids going to learn to sit and pay attention in a world of sound bites and flashing screens if we don't ask it of them? How are they going to see themselves as part of a whole culture if they're only ever sequestered with those of their own age group? How are they going to learn to value other perspectives if they are only given one? How are they going to understand where they came from if they never interact with those who have gone before? How are they going to get good at thinking about things if we do all their thinking for them?)

No, what kids need is someplace they won't be preyed upon because they're weaker, where manners and how to apologize are modeled, where they know they're loved enough that it's ok to make mistakes and maybe even (gasp!) fail. They need someone who requires them to persevere in the face of obstacles. They need encouragement to do things that are hard at first.

If schools aren't going to be a place like that, maybe our kids shouldn't be there.

Life & Death

Proverbs 31:8
"Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute." ESV
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; defend the rights of all those who have nothing." NCV
"Speak out for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the destitute." NRSV
"Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die." NKJV

I've avoided my Facebook newsfeed over the last week or so. With a new baby staring up at me and postnatal hormones washing over me, it's too heart-wrenching to read over and over the implications of New York's new abortion law. Then, yesterday, I read Proverbs 31, although I really only got as far as verse 8.

How do we speak out for the unborn half a continent away? Even in a democratic republic like ours, it's hard to know what to do.

Do we rant on Facebook? Sign petitions? Write blog posts? Get out to vote in the next election?

Do Facebook posts change anyone's mind? Can a list of names really sway a politician over such an agenda-driven piece of legislation? What can another piece of cyber writing do that all the ones before it haven't? What good will my future vote here do for the babies who are dying today over there?

Maybe there's another way to open our mouths.

We can mourn.
We can be broken over the wickedness in our land.
We can grieve, privately and corporately.
We can, like Nehemiah, confess our people's sin.
We can ask God's intervention for the lives of the babies, yes, but also for the women and even the men who will be destroyed by one decision.
We can pray against the deceit of the enemy in the halls of capitol buildings as well as in the consultation rooms of abortion providers.
We can gather with other believers to pray for our children and for the children of our nation. (Any takers?)

We can live lives that value life.
We can reach out to the poor and homeless.
We can support the single mom or dad near us.
We can foster and adopt.
We can be patient with the mom ahead of us in the checkout line whose toddler begins to melt down.
We can teach our children of the intrinsic value of every single human being.
We can love the special needs individual.
We can adopt a zero-tolerance policy for bullying behavior or belittling words, spoken or typed.
We can make it our business to encourage the people we come into contact with each day.
We can be courteous to the fast food worker behind the counter and to the customer service rep on the phone.
We can care for the elderly neighbor.
We can take time for family dinner.

Because this isn't just about life in the womb. This is about life in all its forms. This is about fighting tooth and nail against the devil who "comes only to steal and kill and destroy" (John 10:10 ESV). (Heaven help us if this is what it takes for the American Church to realize that... Heaven help us if the American Church doesn't realize it after this.)

This is about the kind of life that only Christ gives and only Christians can offer to a dying world - abundant life.

Faith & Courage

Eight days ago, faith and courage met, and my world changed.

But it wasn't purely MY faith and courage. At times, my faith was fear and courage had fled; it was then that the faith and courage of others carried the transformation.

The world change?
The birth of my second daughter.

"The second time is easier," they say. "The second time is shorter," they [nearly] promise.

My second time was harder, and it was actually the same length as the first.

There were times I wanted to quit; those around me (literally) held me up.
There were times I didn't think I could finish; they cheered me on.

So much of life is a marathon - harder and longer and more discouraging than we thought it would be.

It's in those times that we ride the wings of the faith and courage of those around us.

That is, if those around us have faith and courage.

Who surrounds you today?

Gratitude as an Attitude

Gratitude has been the single most radical attitude adjustment I've ever experienced.

Once upon a time, I had the time and energy to be a volunteer Bible camp staff member. One year (I don't remember how it started), a couple of us girl staffers found a way to stay positive: if any of us seemed to be sliding toward complaining or a sour attitude, one would call out, "Attitude check!" and we would respond, "Praise the Lord!"

A bit trite? Maybe. But it worked. Every time.

Try being negative while giving thanks.
Try complaining when you're busy thanking God for His blessings.
Try holding a grudge when you're remembering what you've been forgiven.
Try coveting while taking note of the abundance of your possessions.
Try ruminating on all your failings while hearing God's truth spoken over you.

Lord, I can't see you. I feel so hopeless. Where are you in times like this? Do you see me here?
I see you. I know you. I know your circumstances; not one of them is outside my awareness.

Father, they've hurt me. Every time I try to forgive them, what they did rises before my eyes and blocks my prayers. How can I move past this?
Look at what I've forgiven you. Love them with the love I've given you.

I've had enough! This isn't fair. This isn't what I signed up for. I have my rights!
Do you remember what I did with My rights?

Gratitude - thanksgiving - sings with the joy of salvation and revels in the riches lavished upon us.

Think of your salvation story. Someday, maybe I'll put mine on here. I've shared bits with those around me as I felt it would be beneficial, but my husband is probably the only one who's heard the whole, ugly truth of it. I don't know about you, but when I think of the ick that's in there and what I've been saved from, my heart kneels in awe. To consider that God could use my story in His kingdom plan is nothing short of miraculous; remembering that gives me a whole lot more grace for those around me.

Thanksgiving colors the air around you when you breath it in and out daily. It changes how you see people and situations, and it affects how others see and respond to you.

It's not a stretch to say that gratitude could fix a lot of what is wrong with this world.
Prejudice.
Debt.
Hoarding.
Adultery.
Family squabbles.
Materialism.
They - and a host of others - all have the potential to fade into nonexistence when people are busy thanking God.

Thanksgiving...
So much more than the fourth Thursday in November.



"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Colossians 3:15-17 ESV, emphasis added

"I Had No Idea"

We've all had those life experiences we look back upon and say, "I had no clue what I was getting into."

Two-year-olds (like N this morning) may learn that Mom and Dad tell them not to touch an electrical outlet for a reason.

Middle school kids often find that friendship drama is more than they bargained for.

A teen may find college harder to navigate, more work, or even more enjoyable, than they thought going into the experience.

Adults have their own versions of being irreversibly over their heads: a new job, owning a home, marriage, parenting. And it seems, no matter what sort of measures we take to be prepared going into it, there are just some things in life you have to experience to really grasp what it's like.

And then, of course, there are the life events we hardly comprehend to prepare ourselves for.

Our two-year-old is coming up on one such event, and try as we might to prepare her, she honestly has no idea what's in store for her. But, she'll figure it out sometime in January.

All In

If I thought I didn't post very often before a child landed smack-dab in the middle of my life, I had another thought coming.

I wish I had posts niggling away in the back of my mind, just itching to run through my fingers into the computer keys, but I don't. It's as if I've not only lost the time but also the contemplative power to post.

Is my mind too full of to-dos and what-ifs to ponder anything beyond/above myself and my day? Or maybe I've allowed my mind to snack on diversions rather than dig into a feast of actual thought.

Or maybe this parenting thing is just completely all-encompassing.

Parenting isn't something a body can do halfway. A person really has to be all in - or not at all. Good parenting, bad parenting, that's another topic entirely; but if you're going to raise a little ankle-biter, it's going to completely revamp your life.

After N was born, someone told us that having a child was the most unselfish decision a couple could make. I'm still thinking having the SECOND child is least selfish, because then you have an idea of what you're giving up:
the right to your own glass and plate;
the ability to do a task from beginning to finish without interruption;
the possession of your own bed;
the luxury of using the bathroom by yourself;
the chance to sleep through the night;
the pursuit of hobbies, reading, and other interests;
and on and on and on . . .

N and I were at the town kiddie pool yesterday. It's a little wading area set off from the main pool, starts at 0" and gets to 1' 6" at the "deep" end. It comes complete with nine little fountains of water, three sets of three, spraying, bubbling, and shooting in their respective places. A favorite activity of the young patrons is to step on one of the fountains in a set, causing the others to spray further than normal.

N, taking everything in as she does, saw the "big" kids doing this and decided she would get in on that action.

She pulled herself out of the 4" section, hurried her way to the deep end, and flopped her toes down on the first fountain she came to.

Surprise!

The water shot between her toes and, rerouted by her interference, squirted right up into her face!

Shocked and a utterly perplexed, she backed up, furiously wiping water from her eyes. I wanted to laugh, but instead put on my compassionate face and helped her dry her face.

"Did the water squirt you?" I asked.

"Uh-uh," she answered with quivering lip.

"Here, use your whole foot, like this," I demonstrated.

And she did! She was so proud! Stepping on the fountain like the big kids!

She just had to go all in.

Go Do Your Job

This post could be part 2 to the one I wrote last Saturday. Not in that this comes after it, but in the sense that this is the bigger picture, the other side of the topical coin, the driving force, or whatever other similar cliché you'd like to insert here.

Our pastor challenged us a while back with a thought which I'll paraphrase, since I didn't note his exact phrasing. The idea was this: If your church suddenly disappeared, would the surrounding, secular community notice? Would they care? Would your church be missed?

Now, I can't control everything my church does or doesn't do, but I certainly have a significant role in determining my own actions and pursuits. After all, as the people go, so goes the church, right? A church of inert believers isn't going to do much moving and shaking outside its own walls.

So, my question for you today is this: What sort of skin does your faith have?

Does it have bones and muscles?

Is it the type of faith that scrubs toilets, waits tables, and washes feet?

Is it practical?

Does it change those around you?

Does it change you?

Wait a minute, you might say to me, my faith is a private matter! It's an inward relationship. This isn't your business and I certainly don't have to prove myself to you to be a valid Christian!

You're right; I'm not the judge of authentic faith for believers. But you do have to reckon with a couple very persuasive, first-century teachers. One, for example, says that a faith that does not show itself by outward works is useless. Another seems to think that we've all received special abilities to serve, and so we should use them, and he even includes a list of ways to do just that! They're persuasive, and they're right, because they were divinely inspired to write those sections of Scripture.

So, stop and think.

On Monday morning, when your alarm rings, do you check your faith into "daycare" and make a mental note to pick it up again in time for church next week?

Is church just something you do because it's what you've always done?

Is it a place to be seen, like a club?

If your pew neighbor had never come to your church but ran into you on the street or met you at work, would they still assume that you're a Christ-follower?

Do you look like, sound like, act like Jesus, and more and more as the years tick by?

We're good at the head part of the Gospel, but let's not lose the heart. It's the heart that moves us with pity; it's the heart that cares for our neighbor; it's the heart that reaches out to the lost.

But - 

Maybe you're more on the social justice side of the Gospel. You advocate for the trafficked. You donate to the shelters. You volunteer. You give to the Christian radio station. You have people into your home for meals and conversation. You might even pray out loud in church.

Where's your head?

Remember, faith is not simply actions, it is conviction, attitude, a grasp of a belief. Don't think that you can busywork yourself into God's good graces. Matthew 7 records Jesus' own thoughts on the matter, and they're frightening.

Ephesians 2:8-10 may be one of the most famous Scriptural explanations of salvation. It reads,

"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." ESV

Do you notice that faith comes first? We have salvation through faith [by grace], with no merit through or from or by our doing.

But - 

Because of that salvation, we have good works to do, works God made us to do, which we can now do because of what Jesus did.

So, in other words, I could have just quoted those three verses and left out the rest of the blog post.

As you celebrate the death and resurrection of our Savior this weekend, remember that we celebrate the finished work of Jesus Christ. You can't add to it or take from it by what you do or do not do.

But - 

If it is truly a part of your life, shouldn't that flow out in gratitude through your good works? "Walk in them." Get off your duff and go do what God made you to do.

A Christmas Miracle

It's snowing. Cinnamon raisin bread bakes in the oven behind me. N is upstairs in her crib - not sleeping, but content.

It's a rare moment to sit and reflect in the middle of holiday preparations.

When did Christmas start to mean making so many plans you meet yourself coming and going? We've got parties and presents, gatherings and goodies, cards and church. Preparation consumes days, evenings, lists, budgets.

Historically, Christmas was a mass, maybe with stockings stuffed with oranges and chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. People didn't plan holiday schedules months in advance. Sometimes, there weren't any gifts at all. Did they not know that Christmas is about the joy of giving and family togetherness? I guess Hallmark hadn't gotten that message to them yet.

Of course, if you want a party, you could go back to that first Christmas: the actual evening Jesus was born. There weren't shiny baby announcements printed by an online printer; but there were angels announcing his birth. There wasn't a baby shower; but there were those really rich guys who came months late with a fortune - not an exaggeration - in gifts.

Something big happened. Something to trigger heaven's hosts to sing. Something that would cause people - even people who don't actually profess faith - millennia later to pause their usual lives and acknowledge a peculiarity in the day.

It wasn't family togetherness. Joseph and Mary don't seem to have been welcome with their families back in Nazareth.

It wasn't the joy of giving. Those smelly shepherds who showed up that night probably didn't leave anything behind them other than a pungent odor.

It was Emmanuel. "God with us."

What's the big deal about that?

Do you realize that every other religion on the face of the earth is an attempt by man to reach god(s)? Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam . . . even some that borrow language from Christianity and encourage their people to read the Bible, they're all a story of men striving to make themselves right. People trying to approach God through working, praying, fasting, denying themselves, traveling to holy places. They know something stands between man and God, and they do everything humanly possible to get past that or to outweigh it with "good" things so God will approve of them.

Christmas is a big deal because that is when God gave us the gift we never saw coming: He came to us.

Emmanuel.

God with us.

No more striving. No more analyzing whether we've done more good than bad. No more comparing and wondering and worrying. God reached down, became a man, so he could die. So he could rise. So he could obliterate death and sin.

Not so the good works would outweigh the bad, but so that the bad would die - poof - gone.
Not so we could get to God, but so that God could live in us.
Not so we could do good things, but so that God could act through us.
Not so we could have a good life, but so that we could live eternally.

If that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.

John 1:9-13 ESV

My Recent Reads

I love to read books.

Fiction, non-fiction. Historic, current. Local, foreign. Give me a book with a decent storyline and an eloquent author and I can get lost for hours. Am I crabby? Let me read for a while and I'll be better. Am I bored? Usually a book can get me through. Am I happy? I'll celebrate by curling up in an easy chair with my paper-and-ink companion.

I'm not a snob about genre, but I do perhaps achieve a measure of snobbery when it comes to content. (1) I don't want cookie-cutter plotlines. If I can guess the ending in the first chapter, it's not going to hold a ton of appeal for me. (2) The characters have to be relatable: not stunningly gorgeous, impeccably witty, or astonishingly wealthy. (3) The author must, must, MUST display a reasonable command of the English language. No matter how good the story or characters, misspelled words and glaring grammatical errors are fingernails on the chalkboard of my - well, you get the idea.

So, with all that out in the open, you may better understand my delight to come across not one but two excellent reads in the last few weeks.

The first was "The Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Found the Hidden Gospels" by Janet Soskice (Chatto & Windus, 2009). Here lives the tale of two middle-aged women in Victoria's Great Britain, a time when women didn't generally hold their own property or get degrees at universities, and a time when rationalism and Darwinism were eroding confidence in the reliability of Scripture. Agnes and Margaret, devout Presbyterians, inherit their father's entire estate (yes, making them fabulously wealthy, yet they're still human, sibling squabbles and social blunders remain unvarnished). Because they believe that their wealth is a gift from God for a specific purpose, and because they've also been gifted with a penchant for learning languages, they head to the Middle East in search of ancient biblical manuscripts. Their journey leads them to the recovery of the oldest copy of the four gospels found to that point in time. The discovery reestablished the perseverance of the integrity of the Scriptures through time and laid to rest the concern that the gospels were a collection of oral traditions compiled hundreds of years after the life of Christ.

This story drew me in and held me. My lasting impression was that of awe; God will preserve His word, keeping the secret things hidden and preserved (sometimes for centuries) until the day they are required to once again assure His faithful that, yes, His word is truth. If non-fiction as a genre tends to turn you away, please try again with this one. It reads like a novel, yet it is all delightfully true.

The second book also happened to be non-fiction. "Juniper: The Girl Who was Born Too Soon" by Kelley and Thomas French (Back Bay Books, 2017) relates the story of a woman who has always believed she would have a daughter. Though she didn't play with dolls or set up a make-believe house when she was little, she has never wavered in this conviction. When she eventually marries Thomas and they experience infertility, she pursues treatment as if her daughter is waiting for her to simply get it right so she can join their family. Through IVF, they do finally conceive, but when their daughter is born at 23 weeks gestation, they have to make some heart-rending decisions. (23 weeks is perilously close to the age of viability as accepted by many medical practitioners. Many doctors would not feel morally obligated to intervene to save a child born at this age.) They decide to let their daughter decide: as she displays a tenacious hold on life, they pursue treatment for her, spending months in the NICU at the side of her bassinet. As one thing after another goes wrong, they face the reality that they may lose her before she sees their faces (she was born before the eyelids are slit to enable them to open), before they ever hear her voice (she breathes with a ventilator because her lungs aren't fully developed), before she feels the sun on her skin.

While I was reduced to a sobbing mess at several points, the authors, who are themselves journalists, achieve a balance of hope in their retelling. Thomas begins reading the Harry Potter series to little Juniper, providing a number of heart-warming - even funny - passages. Their primary nurse begins providing little, light-hearted outfits (XXS pet costumes!) once Juniper makes it past the initial critical days.

I was awed once more by the intricacies of the creation of life. The authors, one admittedly without a faith and the other a lapsed Catholic, reflect several times on divine matters and, while blatantly liberal, a decidedly pro-life message emerges. There were even snippets that approached a devotional tone, in the Kuyperian Reformed tradition of "All truth is God's truth." Kelley writes, "On matters of faith, Tom and I had little clarity. But we were forced to ask ourselves if we had been part of a miracle. If, beyond all expectation, a God that neither of us had served well had given us a gift we did not deserve" (p. 301).

Not that this volume is squeaky clean. There's some language. The story of their relationship naturally models itself along cultural norms. Their experiences with IVF, an understandably delicate topic, are discussed frankly. Yet, for the more mature reader, I recommend "Juniper." And if you just can't bring yourself to crack open the cover of a book, you can check out a greatly abbreviated version (recorded before they decided to write their book) on RadioLab.

A Letter to a Dreamer

Dear Aspiring Home-Maker:

You're brave. Not many women today think staying at the house and making a home for your family is a big enough deal to be a dream.

Some do, but they're a little shy about declaring it.

I don't know why. Maybe they think it's a waste of a college education (as if it doesn't take a whole lot of intelligence to shape the next generation). Maybe they think others will think they're lazy (but if they were lazy, it would be smarter to hire a maid). Maybe it's a hold-over from the feminist "liberation" of women that gave women the option to be anything they want to be (as long as they don't want to be a home-maker).

You'll get called a number of different things.

"Stay-at-home mom" (as if you're never going to leave the four walls).
"House wife" (who wants to be married to a house?).
"Home-maker" (lofty, but I prefer "domestic engineer"!).

You'll get a number of different responses when you answer the question, "So, what do you do?"

Thankfully, I've never encountered outright derision. I'm hoping that was left back in the 1990's. Maybe it wasn't. Not sure what I'll do if I come across it.
I have, however, gotten the ambiguous, "It's nice your husband makes enough that you can stay home." I'm not sure what to do with that, exactly. I mean, it sounds like they're implying we're wealthy; compared to Africa, most of Asia, and South America, we are, but then, so are they; compared to the average American's idea of wealthy . . . ? I've seen people with much larger houses and newer cars complain about not being able to live on one income. You can't wait until you have enough to stay at home - you have to learn to make what you have be enough. I usually end up just saying, "Yes, I'm very thankful he does."
And then there are the congratulators, the ones who give me kudos and make me feel strong and counter-cultural. But then I feel like I'm misleading them. I'm not giving up a dream and putting a career on hold for the sake of my child(ren): this is my dream. This is what I've always wanted to do. I went to college and headed for a career, and, yes, if God hadn't given me a husband just then, I would probably have my master's by now.

But that wasn't my dream. This is.

Be brave, my sisters who share this dream. Let it be your dream. Be the shining light for someone else who wishes they could dream of making a home for their family.

It's so worth it.

Sincerely,
Me
Domestic Engineer

A Death

We had a tragedy recently in our small hometown. During a thick fog, a pedestrian was struck and killed by a motorist.

What shock for the family.

I know the breath-grabbing numbness I felt when my grandma passed away suddenly on April 21st, and she a far cry from healthy. But this was a grandmother, quite healthy, who never came back from a walk around town.

But I think I really feel for that motorist.
Imagine being the cause of such tragedy.
What agonizing heartbreak.

And in such a small town, only a few thousand people, what would it mean to rebuild a life? I don't know the legal repercussions which may yet play out, but wouldn't it be nearly impossible to start again when everyone in town knows that you are that person that hit and killed so-and-so? Even if they weren't angry, even if they viewed you with pity, wouldn't you feel forever defined by that one moment of obscured vision, of inattention?

So would you move away? Would you leave town and try to start again amongst the anonymity of the crowds of a larger city? But then, wouldn't there be that looming thought over every friendship, that once it reached a certain depth, you would need to tell them about that part of your past?

I was walking along our city sidewalks and pondering this shortly after Easter. What if, I thought, the people of this lovely city were able to reach out, not in pity or in sidelong glances, but in a realization of our own sin - both of omission and commission.

What if we all realized that our sin has caused a death, too?

That little white lie? killed someone.
That snide remark? murder.
That vengeful thought? a direct cause of a death.

Whose?

The very Son of God.

The Struggle, Reviz

Back in May, I posted about the importance of struggles in our lives, how they help us grow, if we let them. Now, after having a daughter for five months, I've been rethinking my perspective on it all.

I don't recant anything I wrote then. It's more of a shift in attitude.

Here's what I mean:
My daughter, N, cries in her cradle.
I know that she needs a nap; I can hear the sleep-need in her voice. But she sounds so sad. And then she gives that hiccupy sob that sounds like her heart is breaking - and it threatens to break mine.
I could go in, pick her up, cuddle her, comfort her, rock her to sleep, and hold her in my arms for her entire nap.
I want to.
Or
she fusses over tummy time.
She doesn't want to work on holding up her head anymore! She's tired, and she's tired of laying her face back on the blanket on the floor. The whole rolling-over thing is complicated, and it is a toss-up whether or not she might make it work, and it's a lot of work! "Mom!" she seems to yell, "come fix this!"
And I want to fix it.
Oh, how I want to take it all away and reassure her of my loving presence.
I have done so on occasion.
A lot of the time, I don't.
I have the power to remove that sorrow from her life, yet I opt not to.
Why? Why would a loving parent allow his child - the child he loves more than breath - to be sad, lonely, upset? How can a parent call himself loving when he could fix it, but doesn't? Why would a parent put himself through those tears and heartache when even he would like to swoop in with a rescue?
I know why I do.
I have a bigger picture in mind than little five-month-old N can imagine. I can see the results when I have given in too often. I have a goal of health and happiness in mind for N that allows me to push through discomfort - hers and mine - in order to reach it. (And, I have a stellar husband who is my biggest cheerleader, my fellow disciplinarian, and the foremost member of my support system!)

This all has been affecting my change of mind. I have always seen God as the loving but firm Father, the one who disciplines us à la Hebrews 12:3-11.

"God is treating you as sons," the passage says of times of discipline.  "He disciplines us for our good. . . . For the moment all discipline seems painful . . . but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."

How stoic those words can seem! How stiff and unbending we can make God appear when we toss out these words of "comfort" to someone in the midst of their struggle.

Is this God? Is this our heavenly Father? Is this His heart?

"[Do not] be weary" in times of discipline, the author urges, because "the Lord disciplines the one he loves." This, too, sounded condescending but firm to my childish heart. "Don't be sad about the hurt," I once heard, "It's all for your good in the end, so brush it off and have a good attitude."

But, not being a parent yet, I missed something.

12:3 begins, "Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself." Who is this? Jesus, of course, whom 5:7 describes this way: "In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears . . . " This is the same Jesus that 4:15 assures us "sympathize[s] with our weaknesses."

This is me with N. This is the sadness I experience with her. This is my heart, aching to fix things for her, able to fix things for her, yet knowing, because of my love for her, that I must not.

You know what that tells me?

God hurts with us.

Think of that! The Creator of the universe, the one with all power and all knowledge, the one who knows that the struggle is important, He feels our pain with us! He is not up there somewhere, smiling grimly or grinning gleefully over our misery. He hurts for our pain, so much so that He exchanged His only begotten Son for us adopted sons in order to put things to rights.

Of course, everything is not all put to right yet. We still feel the effects of a broken world and our own broken souls. We're in process still, and that means growing pains as we go, and it means sharp, piercing pains as the filth is dug out of us like infection out of a tooth.

But don't lose heart in the pain. This discipline - literally, disciple-making - has been carefully chosen, painstakingly vetted as the right tool for the task of producing a holiness like our big Brother's.

And, even more so, take comfort:
Those tears you've cried over that struggle in your life or in the life of your loved one - He's cried with you. That ache in your heart from the unresolved issue that constantly nags and threatens and circles back for more - He feels it, too.

He's your Daddy, and He hurts with you.

He Cared Enough to Give Us Christmas!

Having an infant gives me a whole new appreciation for Christmas.

I've believed for as long as I can remember that Jesus, the God-Man, came to earth as a baby about 2000 years ago. Now, though, as my own child nears five months old, I realize that at one time, Jesus, the Word of God through whom the galaxies burst into existence, was Himself nearing five months old. (How can the age of the Eternal be measured in mere months?)

His mother was young, younger than me. His world was chaotic and scary.

Was Mary frightened at times, raising a baby? I am. It is a vulnerable thing to have so much of my soul wrapped in such a helpless bundle. I hope the best for her, pray that she will seek the heart of God and be kept far from evil men and women, but I know she will feel pain in some form someday. No wonder Simeon told Mary that a sword would pierce her own heart; her son had a certain future of pain, far beyond what I might realistically expect for little N. (But who ever claimed a mother's ruminations are realistic?)

Every time I read a book or watch a movie where a child is endangered or suffering, I immediately see my child there, feel an inkling of the desperation I imagine I might feel if that were my baby there, going through that. (A vivid imagination can be both a blessing and a curse.)

Or I wonder if I may inadvertently hurt her; there are certainly enough ways to fear doing so. Sometimes it seems there are so many options for fear surrounding a child that it is hard to know which is the lesser: Do I fear vaccines, or do I fear not vaccinating? Do I fear co-sleeping? letting her sleep on her belly? creating a dependency by holding her while she sleeps? risking the health effects of her not getting adequate sleep? (I don't think the "experts" mean to be cruel or manipulative as they encourage parents to avoid or embrace certain behaviors, but it's hard not to hear, "If you don't do as we say, you are knowingly endangering the very life of that little person you love with every fiber of your being . . .")

Sorry if you're tired of my going on about fear lately . . . it's just what is on my mind lately.

I heard a pastor on the radio recently (I wish I could remember which one so I could give proper credit) who said that Satan wants us to live either in the past through our regrets or in the future via our worries, because we can only worship God in the present, and that is the last thing he wants us to do. (Obviously, I've been having more trouble with the one, lately.)

But look at young Mary: she sure had plenty of things she could have feared. She was young, unwed, and pregnant. Her intended was planning to divorce her, which was the better of the two most likely options for her, the other being death. Her world didn't value life, especially the lives of the most vulnerable. Her options as a single mother weren't good, poverty and disgrace at best.

And yet, this remarkable teen chose praise.

"May soul magnifies the Lord," she said, "and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior."
She rejoiced? In her trouble? In her uncertainty? I would have expected her to feel forgotten or even picked on. But instead, "he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. . . . from now on all generations will call me blessed."

Now there's perspective for you. But she wasn't done yet.

"He who is mighty has done great things for me."

Is He mighty? Do I really believe that? Or is He really strong, but just not strong enough for this problem this time? Do I live like I think my problems - or potential problems - might just be the ones that surpass the limits of His abilities?

Yes, He has done great things for me. Why do I keep assuming His works are in my past but not for my future?

Maybe it's because I am forgetting to worship.

After all, this isn't just the God of the universe sitting upon His heavenly throne. He also isn't just the man who touched the untouchables. He is the One who inhabited the womb, the arms, the heart of a young mother.

He knows. He understands. He came with all the frailties and vulnerabilities of the baby sleeping across the room from me now.

Why? Who forced Him into this Christmas thing? What Being with that sort of power would simply hang it all up for the chance to go through diapers, learning language, puberty?

Someone who cares.
Someone who cares a lot.
Someone who cares a lot about me.
Someone who cares a lot about my life and my worries.
Someone who cares a lot about this precious little girl of mine.

Thank God that He cared enough to give us a Christmas.

A Foray into Fear

As a mother, I have stared down the throat of fear like never before.

It comes and goes, but when it comes, it's intense.

During our pregnancy, plenty of reasons to fear surfaced. What if something is wrong? We can't see the baby in utero, so what if his or her heart stops? We might not know for days. Or so-called mother's intuition - how do I know if something is just a worry or if something is actually awry? We were excited for the baby's birth if for no other reason than that we could see the rise and fall of that little chest for ourselves!

New fears took their place with N's birth: does her breathing sound normal? Do I dare let her sleep next to me? Should I worry about SIDS or not? Am I changing her diaper often enough?

Some fears come around daily; others, I've managed to release with time; some, though, come flying out of what seems like nowhere, and those are the hardest to prepare for.

I had an encounter with one of the third kind recently, and it had to do with vaccines.

P and I have been doing our research. We've read about each disease, its likelihood of occurrence, and its complications. We weighed that against each vaccine, the ingredients of each, and their side effects. We took into account our life situation and the circumstances surrounding N's likely childhood. Then, we made our decisions. I thought I was at peace with it all.

But then came the night before her first appointment.

Fear filled me as I watched our bright-eyed little girl laugh, chatter, and squirm. What if she was one of those rare cases who comes down with a horrendous side effect? What if our active, happy baby girl was irreparably changed - forever - within a matter of a few hours?

Thankfully, I had the good sense to talk to P about it before bed that evening.

"Are we doing the right thing? Did we make the right decisions?"

He looked at me levely and simply said, "We made the right decisions."

His confidence jolted me out of my tizzy of worry and gave me the reassurance I needed to fall asleep.

That's when the whole thing got strange.

I dreamed that he and I were trying to pray together when he suddenly started saying, "I'm just so afraid," over and over. A Bible verse flashed through my mind: "God has not given us a spirit of fear..." (2 Timothy 1:7). I realized that the unexplained fear couldn't be coming from God, which meant it had dark origins. I am not one to witch hunt, nor am I very comfortable talking about the presence of demonic forces, but, in my dream, that was the only thing to which I could contribute this oppressive fear.

Still, I hesitated to say anything. That's when we both began to be paralyzed. We couldn't move our limbs, breathing became difficult, and speaking was nearly impossible. I knew then that I couldn't stay silent and began gasping Jesus' name.

The paralysis began to wane, so I stopped speaking, only to have it then return, so I started calling on Jesus again. This time it receded for good.

That's when I woke up, or thought I did. I was back in my own bed, P sleeping beside me, and I could hear N softly babbling like she will at times. The thought occurred, what if the demonic oppression was there because it was trying to get at N?

I woke P and asked him to check, make sure she was okay.

She wasn't in her cradle; she was laying between us in the bed. She was fine.

But how did she get there? P said he hadn't put her there. "I must have walked in my sleep," was my conclusion, and we went back to sleep.

The next morning, I realized that none of the second part had actually happened. I had dreamt all of it, which P confirmed when I told him about it.

At first, I only shook my head over the weird things a brain can do while a body is at rest. I probably ate something that disagreed with me, right? Trust me, I do not get into interpreting my dreams - at all. I believe God can and does use dreams to minister to people, but the dream's message is always confirmed through Scripture. Besides, I really didn't see God using them in that way in my life. I figured that I'm too skeptical for Him to want to use them to speak to me.

Whether this was a divine message or not, as I ruminated upon it, I took comfort in a couple aspects of the dream. Firstly, that I knew where to turn to do spiritual battle. Secondly, that whatever it was that was going on, none of us were harmed in either section of the dream. Finally, that N not only was fine, but also that she showed up between us, in a place of protection.

P prayed with me before he left for work, and I made the trip to the clinic with far less trepidation than I had felt earlier.

After N's appointment, we made it in time for my Wednesday morning Bible study. We're studying Hebrews right now, and I am loving it! I had prepared by going through the material for the week, but two verses nearly leapt off the page as we read the passage that morning: "Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood,  he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Hebrews 2:14-15).

Fear, specifically the fear of death, means slavery. We walked in that fear before salvation - were doomed to it for life.

But Jesus.

Jesus saw our frail composition and took it upon Himself.
He destroyed death's power by defeating its king.

When I made the decision to make Jesus my King, I left death's dominion. In the face of my impotence, however, I tend to totally forget God's omnipotence. In my weakness, I go back for visits into slavery to fear when I forget that He has all things under His control.

God's omnipotence means that all things work together into His plan (Romans 8:28).

All things.

Vaccines, diseases, life decisions.
Politics, elections, the fates of nations.

He isn't up there trying to figure out how to clean up our messes; He ordains every situation and every outcome, using them for the good of His Church and for His glory.

With a King like that, how can I fear?