I had a conversation with a friend the other day. She recounted comments her daughter made about an incident that took place in our church a while back. What was disconcerting to my friend was the judgmental tone her daughter took; in essence asking the question “How could someone do that?”
At that moment I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was reminded about the way my husband and I raised our own son. We home-schooled and the responsibility for choosing curriculum fell to me because I was the teacher. Each year I selected academic resources to accommodate my child’s strengths and weaknesses. I then carefully chose bible studies and Christian growth programs I thought would instruct him in his Christian walk. All those years, I was intent on raising a morally upright Christian. I believed teaching appropriate outward behavior was of supreme importance and would assure us of producing a godly young man. I was more concerned with the appearance of Christianity. At the time, I believed I was doing the best I could with what I knew, but this kind of moralistic parenting is frightening, crushing, and void of Jesus and the freedom and grace he died to bring us. Then I understand why my friend’s daughter was reacting the way she did to the incident in our church. Could it be that her daughter received the same messages my son had?
Thus says God, the LORD,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
who gives breath to the people on it
and spirit to those who walk in it:
“I am the LORD; I have called you in righteousness;
I will take you by the hand and keep you;
I will give you as a covenant for the people,
a light for the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness. (Isaiah 42:5-7)
Blind, prisoners, dungeons, sitting in darkness…Stay here where things are dire. Our guilty consciences, our bruised egos, our shame, our failure wants us to move on; “Let’s not talk about this… let’s get to the good news… quickly!” But, in this very last day of Advent, this is where we should be: face-to-face with the dire reality of our situation. Things are no longer “very good” Continue reading
Today is one of those days. One of those days where I’m eager to get to whatever the Lord really wants for this day. But I’m stuck.
Because other than coming to work, making one gourmet toaster waffle, and dropping my little friend off at Princess Art Camp, the only other thing I have accomplished is emptying the dishwasher…Three hours ago.
And now it’s noon.
Even my nap attempt failed.
Tuesday is my wrestling day; they have a way of tousling me. I trust God; I do. Faith is one of my spiritual gifts; I have faith. And hope is a theme of my life; I have hope.
On most days…
In the long-term, I know Christ will come back for me, making all the wrongs right and fulfilling every longing of my weary soul. Yet, on Tuesdays this knowledge, this faith, this hope is weak kneed. Tuesdays throw curve balls at me and my faith and my hope. Tuesdays shatter my hope for how things will go and shake my faith with just a lightest breeze.