Mom Fail of the Year

Lest ye think that this Mom here is on her way to win a Mom Of The Year Award, allow me to divulge the details of last Thursday.  Last week I had the honor of being appointed an impromptu chaperone on a field trip which I had originally not planned on attending.
“Why?” you ask.  Because I somehow managed to miss the 1,000 messages that the teacher sent over the last 2 months via handouts and Class Dojo that indicated that the school group was leaving an hour before the start of a typical school day.  Every single one of them.  I missed every, single, one…EXCEPT the last handout, which my child handed to me at 7:30am on the day of the field trip, and which also indicated that the bus was currently pulling out of the school parking lot AT THAT VERY MOMENT. 

I briefly hoped maybe it was just a typo, and they actually meant to say 8:30am, but alas, my hope was in vain.  Thus began the hurried rush of cancelling my dental appointment, and throwing presentable clothes on the kids (and possibly myself), and grabbing electronic tablets (each of which was completely dead and needed charging) in order to drive AN HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES ONE WAY to Durham to catch up with the school field trip. 

Within the first 10 minutes of the drive, the first grader (hilariously, in his 7 year-old mind) made his baby sister shriek and cry on three separate occasions, and I snapped.  And I yelled.  LOUDLY.  And he stomped off to the back of the van with arms folded across his chest in protest.  (Yes, you read that correctly.  I drive a van large enough that a child can literally stomp off to find his own zone, even while the vehicle is in motion.)

And then the tears began.  My tears, not his.  I sobbed heavily for 30 minutes straight, feeling like a massive failure that can’t even keep track of a simple field trip.  I was heart-broken to have disappointed my child by missing such an important detail, and I had no idea how it could have happened. 

For the love of all things holy, WHY did I not put this field trip on my Google calendar???  I would have looked for this detail if I had added it.  I put everything on my calendar.  My every move is on my calendar.  If it isn’t on a Google calendar somewhere, did it really happen? 

The answer is ‘No.’  If it isn’t on this girl’s Google calendar, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN.  Case in point.

I felt defeated, like I was in over my head, and if I couldn’t handle this, then how on earth was I ever going to make it through the next several years, knowing that it’s only going to get busier once all 6 children are in school and sports.  And was I even headed to the right place now, because If I couldn’t read the time right on the permission slip, how could I ever be trusted to correctly read the location?  And will the Google calendar app even allow me to add more events to my jam-packed days than are already on there right now??

I was frustrated and embarrassed to have messed up, and I was discouraged that I would ever be able to keep up with life in general. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to make this day right for my child, and I was thinking about how much money it was going to cost now to make it right, which was why I had decided not to attend this trip in the first place.  And I seriously wanted to just throw in the towel, because I was pretty sure that there was no way I was going to be able to sustain it all. 

And so I called my Mom.  And she sympathized with me, and told me that it was all going to work out fine.  And she put my heart at ease, and calmed me down.  And then she transferred money to me to pay for admission and snacks and all of it so that I wouldn’t be burdened by cost. 

I told her that I seriously hope that I can be exactly like her for my children someday.  She told me I already was a better Mom than her.  I told her that wasn’t possible.  Because it isn’t.  I have an awesome Mom.  And I hung up feeling refreshed and encouraged, like I always do after talking to her in times like this.

I apologized to my son for snapping, and he was sitting back in the front row within minutes.  We arrived at the museum shortly after the school buses did, and we (sheepishly) met up with his teacher and class, although he opted to just spend the day touring with me and the toddlers instead of the rest of the group.  And we got to do all the extras that he wouldn’t have originally gotten to do; we rode the train, and had ice cream and chips and sodas, and picked out gifts from the gift shop and brought gifts home for the siblings.  He asked me if we could bring the whole family here one day before we leave for Ohio because he liked this place so much.  And when I asked him on the (long) drive home if he enjoyed his field trip, his response was immediate and enthusiastic, and he loved that day.

It’s so, so easy in this day and time to compare ourselves to the fractional details we see of the parents around us, and to think they’ve got it all perfectly figured out and that they never make mistakes, or miss fieldtrips, or raise their voices, or question if they’re doing anything right.  If I’ve ever given that impression, let me be the first to debunk that right here.  There are no perfect moms (though mine’s pretty darn close), but there are a lot of great moms that mess up and ask for forgiveness and do their best to turn bad days into good ones, and inadvertently demonstrate to their kids some pretty incredible life lessons at the same time.  So if (and when) you go through your version of a missed-field-trip kind-of day, let me be the first to remind you that you’re among good company. 

High five.  You’re my tribe, and I’m your fan. 

Happy Mother’s Day to you all.  And Happy Mother’s Day to my Mom, who will always be the type of mother I hope to be one day.  I love you, Mom.

The Bonus Round

Not long after our youngest son was born, we felt quite sure that he was meant to be our last child, and shortly after we moved last summer, John volunteered to take one for the team and underwent the 'procedure' to ensure that our family of seven would remain such.

Over the last year, we've eagerly viewed each moment through the rosy lens of a rapid exit from our extended baby phase of life.  Diaper-free days were now within view.  We've cherished the idea of soon being able to go on family vacations, hikes and bike rides without the required 200+lbs of baby gear and essentials. 

We shed baby clothes, maternity clothes, and baby gear faster than you could count to one.  We purchased all manner of paraphernalia (Christmas stockings, Easter baskets, etc.) in groups of five.  Last year John splurged on the perfect Mother's Day present, a Mother's ring set with the five birthstones of each of our five littles.

We mapped out our future: high school graduations, possible college graduations, retirement, and all the major milestones a family of seven might tackle in the foreseeable future.   (We're engineers.  A love for detailed planning goes with the  territory, and we unabashedly profess it.)  We relished in the symmetry of our boy-boy-girl-boy-boy birth order and the room-sharing and bunking capabilities it provides.  (Symmetry makes my heart happy.  Did I mention we're engineers?)

We prepared to store away the baby crib, gnawed nearly to mulch in places by five babies that apparently each experimented for a short time with a diet consisting primarily of wood, and we raised our hands to the heavens and praised The Almighty God above that John would never again lose days of his life sanding and refinishing said crib to remove evidence of aforementioned experimentation, as he had so dutifully done with our last four children.

We found ourselves unable to introduce our small train of children unless promptly followed by the phrase, "And that's it for us!".  And when asked if we were done, we emphatically responded in the affirmative, and our response gradually progressed to include the phrase, "Unless God tells us, 'Surprise!  That didn't work!'"

Well...SURPRISE!  THAT DIDN'T WORK!

If you'd have asked me a decade ago how many children John and I would have, I would have told you that we'd have two, maybe three.  I would have laughed you out of the room at the suggestion of six.  Six kids didn't mesh with our priorities at that time.  Let's face it, if you like nice things, it's best to halt production on the miniature demolition crew that you are creating and turning loose in your home. 

Big families are rare these days, and don't get me wrong, I get it.  There was a time when I myself thought that anything beyond three kids was Crazy with a capital 'C.'  Kids are expensive.  They're destructive.  They're messy, and sticky, and smelly.  They're loud, and whiny, and time-consuming, and exhausting.  And I wondered why any sane person would continue to add to the level of chaos that I considered acceptable.

The truth is, there are few roles more sanctifying than parenthood.  If you'd like to have your patience tested, or to see your flaws and insufficiencies thrown in your face daily (hourly actually), then parenthood's for you.  But the truth that follows is that there are also few roles more rewarding than parenthood.  Unconditional love, unmerited grace, and unbridled joy flow from children unhindered.  Kids are exciting.  They're loving.  They're funny, and cuddly, and giggly.  They're cheerful, and insightful, and honest, and entertaining. 

And above all, they're priceless.  They're invaluably unique.  Never has there been, nor will there ever be another child just like this one.  NEVER.  Children are a testament to the boundless and unfathomable Creator who has seen fit to design every person from the beginning of time with love and care and purpose.  No mass production, no cookie-cutter stamp outs.  Just irreplaceable, matchless blessings that (literally) scream of individuality.  They're worth every penny, every mess, every drop of sweat, and every ounce of energy.  

And so we land on the truth that this child was meant to be, woven with purpose and intended to bless.  We planned for five, but God gave us a Bonus Round!  So our baby phase of life has been unexpectedly extended, and sometime around early October we'll be breathing in the scent of a sweet-smelling newborn once again.

And praise Jesus for translational symmetry because....

Got Your Goat

For a little over a year we've been using this chore system, which has been an invaluable tool for teaching our kids responsibility and biblical stewardship.  When each child receives his or her money on payday, it's immediately distributed into one of three categories: spending (70%), saving (20%) and tithing (10%).  And while I love that this idea reinforces the concept of faithfully tithing without question, I acknowledge that, unless intentionally addressed, it also subtly implies that our charitable responsibility ends with the 10% given to the church.  

  

I find this concept entirely unbiblical.  While I don't deny the biblical basis for tithing to the church, there are so many biblical passages, so many passages, that encourage us to love others by giving sacrificially.  We're commanded to love others as we love ourselves, which has undeniably strong implications when it comes to the giving of our resources.  And when we limit our sacrificial giving to our tithe, we not only fail to love others as Christ commanded, but we also rob ourselves of the joy that comes from giving.

We've tried to make up for this by emphasizing the ways in which John and I personally give in areas outside of our tithe, such as sponsoring children through Compassion International, giving monthly to ministries like Mercy House, supporting friends on the mission field, or participating in seasonal ministries like Operation Christmas Child.  We read Compassion International's Explorer Magazine, and we talk with them often about the needs we see around us and how God has given us the ability to meet some of those needs.  And yet it feels as though entitlement is still encamped just outside our home, waiting for the chance to pounce.

So this past payday we started something new.  While their chore money will still be apportioned as outlined above, they will now be encouraged to give whatever they desire from their personal spending money towards a fund designated to help someone in need.  Our hope is that as they personally experience sacrifice, they see the blessing of giving to others, cultivating a lasting desire to give.

We're starting by buying a goat ($70) through Samaritan's Purse for a poverty stricken family in a third-world country.    So far it's been a fun goal, and after the first week, we now have $9.22 in our Goat Fund.  I'm anxious to see how long it takes us to reach our goal, and I'm curious to know what they pick for our next project!

This Is How Love Wins

Well, as impossible as it seems to me, last month I became the parent of a kindergarten graduate.  Today I uploaded the pictures from his last day of school onto our computer, and they were full of sweet memories. 

The kids and I met him at the bus stop that afternoon with balloons, bubbles and icecream cake to celebrate his accomplishment.  We sat together on the front porch, eating our cake, blowing our bubbles, with endless smiles and contagious giggles.  I couldn't help but think to myself that this was one of those precious moments in motherhood that would be permanently etched in my mind, cherished until the day I die. 

And as we sat together laughing and eating our cake, it hit me like a bombshell, out of nowhere, and it literally made me catch my breath.  It was a pang of sorrow for so many parents who would never have the chance to celebrate this last day of school with their child.  So many parents who would give anything to watch their child step off the school bus, grinning from ear to ear, brimming with the excitement of putting one year behind them and simultaneously looking forward to the next.  So many parents who were unjustly robbed of this cherished moment.  And I suddenly found myself working hard to suppress the tears that welled in my eyes.

Throughout recent years, and especially on the heels of tragedies like the Boston Marathon bombing and the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, I've cried many tears, brokenhearted for the parents who have lost children in senseless terrorist acts.  I'm certain they swim in grief beyond anything I can even begin to fathom, all the while clinging desperately to fading memories of their precious little one.  First smiles.  First words.  First steps.  First day of school.

Last smiles.  Last hugs.  Last words.

And I think, There could never be any greater enemy than the one who killed my child.  The one whose selfish ambitions, ignorance and hatred caused my child to fear, to hurt, and ultimately to die.  This is a person I could never love.  This is a person I could never forgive.

Amazingly, I know a father who not only watched his son suffer an agonizing death at the hands of vengeful fools, but this same father responded by offering total forgiveness to those responsible, waiting patiently for them to acknowledge their need for forgiveness and to accept it free of charge.  He even went a step further and welcomed these same offenders into his family.  Enemies of the greatest magnitude.  Now affectionately called his own sons, complete with both title and inheritance.  Vengeance assuaged by mercy.  Guilt absolved by forgiveness.  Hatred overcome with love.  Love undoubtedly won.

Of course, this was no ordinary father.  This was the Father.  The very source of love.  And of course,  this was no ordinary son.  It was the Son.  The very portrait of innocence, the likes of which no man or child could match.

And of course, we are no terrorists.  But maybe, just maybe, if we could acknowledge that we ourselves were once His enemies (Romans 5:10), we might begin to comprehend the extent of His love and forgiveness, the depth to which He reached to pull us from the pit to offer us redemption.  Not because of us, His enemies.  Blackened with the sin that called out for His Son's death.  No, not because of us, but because of Him.

And as we seek to grasp the magnitude of His incomprehensible grace, we're overwhelmed with a reverence so extraordinary that it propels us to obedience.  And it stands to reason that our obedience should begin with the commandments that He deemed most important: to love God and to love others (Matthew 22:36-40).  I think we can all agree that the first commandment is almost an instinctive response.  We genuinely desire to love the One who has given us unmerited grace.  But that second one...

I'll be the first to admit that I don't always love everyone.  Actually, if you ask my family, you'd discover that I often struggle to exercise love and grace towards those whom I actually want to love.  And in all reality, there are loads of individuals out there who don't deserve my love at all, at least not by the world's standard.  But unfortunately for me, I wasn't called to live by the world's standard; I'm called to follow Christ.  And when Christ told us to love others, He omitted the clause which gives me permission to deny love to those whom I deem undeserving.

I'll be honest here.  I've been chewing on this for a while, and it's hard to swallow, and all the more to digest.  But I know without a shadow of a doubt that if anything is going to grab the attention of a sinful world and direct them to the Savior that wants so desperately to receive them, it's going to be love.  It won't be my decided remarks on the unarguable corruption of politicians, or my pride in adhering to conservative doctrine and political policies.   It won't be my bold and brazen proclamation on how far our nation has deviated from scripture.  It won't be my frequent expressions of offense, shock and disgust at cable TV's audacity to idealize unbiblical practices.  And while it is irrefutable that we live in a society saturated with sin, and indeed any true follower of God should be utterly broken over the ease with which our nation has so comfortably wandered this far from biblical truth, it won't be tasteless words dripping with disdain and self-righteousness that bring this sinful society to Christ.  If we want this world to see Christ, then let's start by exemplifying the supernatural love that defined Him.  Let everything we say and do, be done in love.  Because that's how we point to Him.  Because that's how love wins.

It's love when I really, really want to fume.  Love when I've had enough.  Love when I don't feel that they deserve it.  And it's love when they really don't deserve it.  Because, hey, I didn't deserve it either.  But thank God He doesn't give me what I deserve.

Extreme Makeover: Hotel Room Edition

I recently returned from a week-long business trip, which turned out to be an unbelievable experience.  A conference with some of the nation's most successful salesmen and lecturers, combined with what promised to be some very fruitful sales calls, meant that this would more than likely be a great trip.  I had very high expectations, but upon arriving at the hotel, my enthusiasm quickly dwindled.  To put it plainly, the hotel was far from luxurious, and I wasn't thrilled about staying in one of its rooms.

Nonetheless, I reluctantly accepted a key from the lady at the front desk and made my way toward the room.  Warily, I opened the door and took a peek inside.  It wasn't encouraging, and I hesitated to step into the room, letting the door shut back.  I paused for a minute to reflect on the situation.  This was going to be a week-long stay, and I didn't want to be living in squalor the entire week, so I decided that it might be worth my while to invest a little time up front to make the hotel room a comfortable place to stay.  I opened the door again, and this time I stepped in, taking in my surroundings and a deep breath at the same time.

I glanced at the stark white walls, smudged with grimy fingerprints from past guests, and I thought to myself, "This simply won't do."  After all, I was going to be staying in this room for 5 whole days.  I grabbed the telephone book and looked up the closest hardware store.  It was within walking distance, so  I put on my coat and headed toward the store.  I picked out a nice shade of wine-colored red paint, bought a gallon and some painting supplies, and made my way back toward the room.  I started to get excited, thinking of how great it would look on the wall.  What a difference it was going to make!  It took me all evening to finish, but when I stepped back and surveyed, it gave me chills.  It looked absolutely incredible, although I realized that the cheap paintings that had been up before would have to be replaced with some nicer artwork.  I decided I would get to that later, but after a hard day's work it was time to hit the hay.  I had a big day planned for Tuesday.

I woke up bright and early, excited for my next project.  If I was going to stay here for 4 more days, I wanted it to be perfect.  What needed attention right now was the flooring.  The hunter green commercial carpet, spotted with old gum and various other stains, was the obvious thing to tackle next.  I grabbed a fraying edge of carpet from the corner of the room and pulled at it.  It came up more easily than I expected, but as I looked around, I realized it was going to take a lot of work for me to get all the carpet up, given that I was going to have to work around the furniture.  I grabbed the phone book again and found a local contractor who was willing to take care of it that morning, and I booked him on the spot.  He showed up shortly thereafter, and after making sure he knew what to do, I headed back to the hardware store to pick out my flooring.

I picked a nice medium shade of laminate wood flooring.  I didn't want to be ridiculous, so I staved off the urge to splurge on the luxury hardwood flooring, though it was what I really wanted.  But the laminate turned out to be the best choice because the store was able to do same-day installation, so I went ahead and settled for it.  Back at the hotel room, the workers began to install the new flooring, and I decided to go out for the afternoon so that I wouldn't be in their way.  I returned a few hours later to find gleaming wood floors, beautifully contrasted against my wine-colored walls.  I wished now that I had taken before pictures, because no one would have believed the difference!  I went to bed that night smiling, overjoyed with how my room was turning out.

I woke up Wednesday morning realizing that I probably needed to do a little work on my finances, just to make sure that I would have enough money to finish this project.  I was almost halfway through my visit, so I didn't have much time left to accomplish this remodel, and I couldn't allow low funds to get in my way.  I spent the entire day watching the stock market and talking on the phone with my personal investor.  It seemed a little like a wasted day, but after several beneficial trades, it paid off, and I knew my finances were sitting pretty.  I could finally relax, knowing that I would have enough money to make my room into the nicest room in the hotel, and I slept soundly that night.

The next morning I woke and assessed the room, looking for what needed to be done next.  I had only 2 days left to transform my room into the perfect hotel room, and that meant I needed to get busy!  I noticed how shabby the furniture now looked.  It was obviously cheap furniture, and it paled in comparison to my colorful walls and shiny new floor.  Furniture shopping was definitely the plan for the day.

I shopped for hours and hours.  I mean, I didn't want to be absurd and spend loads of money on outrageously luxurious furniture, but I wasn't exactly looking for particle-board either.  A girl's got standards, you know, and I wasn't about to settle for boxed furniture in my room.  It took me several hours, but I finally found the perfect bed set, along with a table and chairs that complemented it well.  I also found some excellent paintings to replace the old artwork, and a couple of designer lamps for the nightstands.  The lamps and paintings were a little pricey, but I knew it would be worth it once I saw the whole package together.  The best thing about it was that it was all in stock, so they were able to deliver it in the time it took me to get back to my room.

The delivery guys did a great job of putting together and arranging the furniture, and they even loaded off the old junky furniture.  It took me a little while to get the paintings hung and the lamps set up on the nightstands.  I stepped back and took a look around once I was finished.  It was breath-taking, but I quickly realized that the comforter and sheets looked terribly pitiful now, compared to all my new furnishings.  I headed out to the closest home store and picked out a new bedding set.  I slept so well that night on my brand new 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets!

I woke up Friday morning feeling great after an excellent night's sleep in my near-perfect room.  There were a few loose ends that I was hoping to wrap up, but I started to think I might need more time.  This was my last day, and I wasn't sure I could turn 'near-perfect' into 'perfect' in just one day.  I reached for my phone to call the front desk, intending to ask for an extension on my reservation, but my phone began ringing before I could dial.  I checked the caller ID and saw it was my boss.  "Good morning!" I answered, in a chipper tone.  My new room made me happy, and I couldn't help that it showed up in my voice.  My boss's tone, on the other hand, was a bit less animated and far more austere.

He immediately began pounding me with questions.  He wanted to know why I hadn't made it to the conference and why I hadn't scheduled any sales meetings with any of the local customers, let alone made any sales.  I let him know that this had been a very busy week for me, transforming my ordinary hotel room into my dream hotel room.  It dawned on me that pictures would be very helpful in explaining to him, so I told him that I'd have to give him a call right back, and I hung up.  I took a quick picture of the room, being careful to include all the new and enticing amenities.  I quickly texted it to my boss, gave him a few minutes to receive it, and then I called him back.

I expected him to be pleased when he answered, but he seemed even more perturbed.  What was this guy's deal?  I was so sure that when he saw how great the room looked, he would realize that this had been a very productive week for me, and I would be in for a verbal pat on the back.  But instead of praise, he seemed to have more than a few harsh words to give.  He was unreasonably angry with me, and among all his ranting, the only word I was really able to make out was 'idiot.'  I guess I just don't get it.  I thought he would be happy for me that I had taken this room he paid for and turned it into a beautiful haven.  After all, this new room made me very happy.  I guess you just can't please them all.

**********************************************************************************

While I'm certain you know that this story is wholly fictional, extreme and utterly absurd, I fear that very few will acknowledge the degree to which this illustration often models our spiritual lives.  I just want to remind my fellow Christians that we're sojourners here.  This world is not our home.  That is to say, this world is not our eternal home.  Our citizenship is in heaven according to Philippians 3:20, and as citizens of heaven, our focus is on the eternal, not the material.  Our duty on earth is to fulfull our eternal purpose, not to enrich our earthly lives as in James 5:5.

When our time, talents and resources are dedicated to beauty, pride and material gain, we're doing nothing more than remodeling the hotel room that is our life.  We invest in this temporary space, only to leave it behind when this vapor of our life vanishes.  (James 4:14)  And while I don't wish for anyone to infer that any of life's luxuries are inherently evil, and I certainly am not implying that I have this all figured out and in control in my life, I do hope that we take time to consider where our treasure truly lies.  Because where our treasure is, our heart is as well.  Where is your heart?

19  "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.
20  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.
21  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
Matthew 6:19-21

God of My Everything

As a general rule, my posts tend to flow from what God is teaching me, something that God has brought to my attention as I'm studying His word and which He seems to be repeatedly pressing on my heart and mind.  But maybe you've noticed that my blog has been rather silent lately.  I've had a lot on my plate of late, and I've been leaning heavily on this crutch.  We've recently moved, found out that we're expecting our fourth child in February, found opportunities to get involved within our new church home, and I've begun homeschooling the boys to prepare them for kindergarten.  But truth be told, I've been trudging along through the midst of a spiritual valley, a dry spell in my Christian walk, and it feels as though God hasn't had much to say to me at all lately. 

It's difficult for me to wake up early in order to have my quiet time before the kids get up.  The burning hunger for God's word feels as though it has temporarily waned.  Amidst the good days, there are often days when I struggle to pray, becoming easily distracted by my thoughts and my environment, and it feels as though the prayers that I do utter are often merely bouncing off the ceiling.  The joy which was so pronounced just weeks ago has been displaced by dullness, and the aching desire for God's presence which made me anxious to wake up in the morning in order to talk with Him and read His word has been replaced with a sense of obligation.  I've spent many mornings examining myself, asking God to search me to see if there is any wicked way in me (Psalm 139:23-24), and I've come up empty-handed, finding no reason, no besetting sin, aside from the doubts and selfish thoughts that have reared their ugly heads in this valley.  There have been many mornings over the last few weeks in which my prayers have been flooded with confessions of doubt and lack of desire for Him, and this morning was one such morning.

In the past, this is the point at which I would give up, the point in which my growth in Christ would become stunted.  In the past, the fresh green growth of my spring would have become frost-bitten by a premature winter, withering this branch, and precluding the growth of fruit in my Christian walk.  But this isn't the past.

I've had one of Bebo Norman's newer songs on my playlist for a while, and it has somehow managed to elude me until this morning.  This song spoke volumes to me this morning: God of My Everything - Bebo Norman.  The essence of the song is that God is the unchanging God of everything about me.  He's the God of my strengths, God of my weaknesses, God of my mountain-tops, and God of my valleys.  He's the God of my mornings when I anxiously desire to seek Him, and the God of my mornings when I seek Him out of reluctant obedience.  He always has been, and He always will be the God of My Everything. 

And though He may appear so differently to me right now, He hasn't changed, and He hasn't moved.  The God of My Everything is immutable.  There is no variation in Him, or even a shadow of change. (James 1:17)  He loves me as much in my valleys as He does on my mountain-tops.  And He has promised me that when I call on Him and seek Him, that He will hear me, and I will find Him. (Jeremiah 29:12-13)  If I draw close to Him, He will draw close to me. (James 4:8)  If I wait on Him, He will renew my strength, and I will soar. (Isaiah 40:31)  This light affliction is just for a moment, but it will bring about in me an unfathomable eternal glory. (2 Corinthians 4:17)  And the next time that I'm standing on the top of the mountain, He will be the God of My Victory.

I'm so thankful for His promises, for His word, for the mountains that I've been on, for the way in which He spoke to me this morning, and for this glimpse that He's given me of the next mountain that I will climb.  And I'm so intensely looking forward to the journey from the valley to the mountain-top.  But most of all, I'm looking forward to making this journey with the loving, faithful, immutable God of My Everything at my side.

The Pursuit of Righteousness

"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed."I Peter 2:24 (ESV)

I've been studying through the book of I Peter lately, and last week I came across the verse above.  Sometimes it seems like a verse jumps off the page and slaps you around a little bit, and this was one of those verses.  The majority of this verse is paraphrased from Isaiah 53, an incredibly beautiful chapter which is quoted on multiple occasions throughout the New Testament and which speaks of Christ's sacrifice for us.  Isaiah 53 is certainly among my favorite passages, and it usually stands out supremely in my readings, but this morning I couldn't help but pay particular attention to the rest of the verse: "that we might die to sin and live to righteousness." 

Many of us often spend time thinking fondly on how Christ has saved us from eternal condemnation, which is certainly something to be thankful for.  We consider how He has saved us from hell and freed us from the bondage of sin.  We see the beauty of Isaiah 53 in it all, and we're appropriately filled with gratitude for the many things that Christ has lovingly saved us from.  But how often do we ponder on what He has saved us to?  We glory in what's been done for us, meanwhile we skim right past the response God requires of us, which is to acknowledge His gracious gift of salvation by, in turn, dedicating ourselves to pursuing righteousness. 

Righteousness is not a hobby.  It's not a supplement that we add to our secular life in order appease our conscience by surrendering a small portion of ourselves to God.  Righteousness is not merely additive; it's indicative.  Righteousness is a life in pursuit of God's righteous character, a life which seeks to be conformed to the righteousness of Christ, a life typified by the righteous fruit which flows from being led by the Spirit.  It's a life devoid of sin.  And while we acknowledge that we will never achieve perfection in our earthly quest for righteousness, this does not excuse us from purposefully chasing after righteousness.

I'm convinced that one of the largest fallacies of the church in America is our startling ability to separate our secular life from our Christian life. True Christianity shows no such distinction. True Christianity urges us to righteousness and will ultimately seek to reconcile the secular to Christ, intending for the secular to be entirely consumed by the righteousness of Christ. 

But how do we do this?  How do we pursue righteousness?   Psalm 1 gives us two basic characteristics of a righteous man.  First, he does not associate with those who exemplify a life of sin.  He avoids such associations, recognizing the danger and subtle cunning of sin.  Secondly, he delights in the word of God.  He thinks on it day and night.  It characterizes his thoughts, and it dictates his actions. 

This second characteristic reminds me of Psalm 119.  The author of this particular psalm desired to be counted faithful and righteous by God, and thus he describes a life dominated by the word of God.  He sums it up well in the following three verses:

9   "How can a young man keep his way pure?  By living according to your word.
10  I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands.
11  I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you."

I picture this psalmist as one who woke up early in the morning in order to pray and meditate on God's word, one whose thoughts were saturated by what he had studied.  He sought after God with all his heart, desperately desiring to know Him, belong to Him and be obedient to Him.  He was committed to memorizing the word of God, understanding it's amazing ability to convict him, encourage him and ultimately transform his secular life into the life he desired in Christ.  I picture him as someone that I would like to be.  So here's to being faithful to not only reading God's word, but to diligently hiding it in our hearts, so that we might not sin against Him.