God's Love

Stayed upon Jehovah,
Hearts are fully blest
Finding, as He promised,
Perfect peace and rest.

Late the other night I stepped into my daughter’s room where she was nestled in her crib. She stirred a bit as I gathered her in my arms and held her close, nursing her back to sleep. Before I laid her back down, I stopped to gaze at her tiny face. Her breath was warm and sweet on my shoulder, her lips pink and still, her eyes peaceful and at rest. And for those few moments, I was able to see her through the window of God’s eyes: perfect.

It didn’t make any difference that she has webbed toes, or wakes me up at night, or that she cries a lot, or hasn’t learned to crawl. The only thing that mattered, the only thing on which my love was based, was that she was my child.

I knew the next morning would bring a new day, full of tears, messes, dirty diapers, and the like. I knew that our special moment together would seem like a fairy tale amidst the mundane tasks of everyday life. I knew that I would lose my temper, sometimes speak sharply, grow weary, and again see her through my own fallen eyes and not God’s. But the perspective of our Lord does not change as does ours. If we are in Christ, he sees us always and forever, as perfect; because, when He looks at us, He sees His child.

So often I try to earn God’s favor, when all He requires of me to is to come in childlike dependence and rest. I toil to please Him when His favor is already mine. If I think I have fallen short, I punish myself with guilt when forgiveness has already been extended.  I doubt His unchanging love, supposing it is like mine.

I think of the prodigal son who squandered his father’s wealth and reputation with selfish, wild living. As a parent, how would I have reacted? Would I have been angry? Complaining? Scolding or correcting? But he was none of these. He cared for nothing but fellowship with his son. Yes, he was not worthy and barely deserved to be made like one of his hired men. But to that father, he had back his child. Instead of punishing him as his behavior deserved, he welcomed him with celebration and joy.

Dear God, I pray that I may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height — to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that I may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.

Amen.

 

Little Babies Can Do Big Things

We’ve all been there.

The baby poops, and you assume it’s going to be a standard, run-of-the-mill change.

This happened to me last night. My 9-month-old had the telltale smell, so I brought her to the couch for a new diaper. Normally I would use the changing table, but the rest of the clan was napping in the back, so I gathered my supplies and commenced. Then it happened.

You know, when you remove the innocent-looking stretchy pants and realize they are much, much heavier than they should be.

When you see poop, plastered all the way down one flailing limb.

When you stand back and marvel at how such a TINY BABY could produce THAT MUCH POOP.

And you realize: THIS WILL BE NO ORDINARY DIAPER CHANGE.

So there we were: my precious baby dangling by one soiled leg, me fumbling for a wipe. And of course, all the wipes were stuck in a big ball and would not fit through the hole. So I’m shaking the clump in its crackly casing, and my daughter hears it, and wants to reach for some of the action, but instead covers her hand in poop. Now, we all know the inevitable destination of all babies’ hands: THE MOUTH. Yes, so there I am, helpless, wipeless, and my little princess about to ingest E coli. In my panic I whip those puppies out a la Indiana Jones. Of course, now I can’t get them apart. Have you ever tried to get a string of wipes apart with one hand? Yeah. So I just use the whole line of them on my daughter. So what if I got poop on the couch? The cushions are brown. By now, of course, she is screaming, turning our little 1200-square-foot house into a cavernous noise tunnel and, I’m sure, waking the natives. When I realize that I need a few hundred more wipes to cover the rest of the damage, I notice that the other pouch is ALL THE WAY OVER THERE. Yes, I did the cardinal sin: I left my baby alone ON THE COUCH for 10 seconds. Sorry, What to Expect the First Year. I did not leave one hand on the baby during the entire change. Thank God she survived.

Finally, I get her little bottom back to its pink perfect self. I consider tossing the pants in the garbage. Sooooo much easier, right? But no, that would be a waste. So, two pairs of gloves, one change of trash, a gallon of dish soap, a slanted utility sink full of vinegar, a whole mess of sanitizing wipes, one load of laundry, and fifteen minutes later, I have victory.

This time.

 

The Ministry of Motherhood

"Ministry takes place when divine resources meet human needs through loving channels to the glory of God." -Warren Wiersbe

Lately the Enemy has been nudging me with questions. "Where is your ministry?" he asks. "Who are you reaching with the gospel? Didn't God say, 'to the ends of the earth'? Where is your impact?" The words turn over and over in my mind and heart and fill me with doubt and guilt. Indeed, I have neglected friends and family; spent more Sundays in the nursery than the sanctuary; passed by service opportunities here and there. The needs of my own children have come before those of others. Meanwhile, I read through Proverbs and it says to help the poor, the widow, the orphan; and I have done none of these. My sharing of the gospel has been almost exclusively with my children. Am I neglecting the Great Commission?

Last night I attended a powerful, heart-wrenching sendoff for friends of mine, who are moving to Cambodia to serve rescuees of sex trafficking. The suffering of the young girls who will be in their care is unspeakable. Their need for the love of Christ is unquestionable. And the hand of God in calling this couple to this field is obvious. As I reflected upon the gravity of their task, I asked God, "What can I do? How can I help?" This past year I have seen more and more that life is difficult. It is full of pain. There is injustice, cruelty, and incomprehensible evil inflicted upon innocent victims. Loneliness, discouragement, poverty, and hopelessness abound. The devil is real and the battle for human souls incessant. Where does a believer in Christ start? God has given us so many commands in the Scriptures; how can we fulfill them all? As I pondered these questions, I felt overwhelmed and saddened. I felt powerless to make an impact.

Then, I looked down at my sleeping daughter. And the Lord said to me, "THIS is what you can do." That is it. How can I make an impact? By obeying Him in what He has asked of me. I must pour out His love into my children. He made each of them unique and challenging, and gave them to my husband and I as His stewardship to train in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. For some reason, I have been believing that only ventures that are risky, or wide-reaching, or remote, or public, are worthy to be called "ministry." I forget how much I need to rely daily on the Lord's strength with these three souls He has trusted to my care: one bright, stubborn, and determined; one medically fragile and emotionally wounded; and one whose personality is still budding. Is not serving these three, by God's power, enough? At the very least, I know it is more than I can do on my own; it is impossible without Him. It takes more than what I have; it takes the resources of the divine. Thank you, Jesus, for promising that You would give me the strength to do it. Thank you that you have divided our lives into seasons, and that I can wholeheartedly devote myself to planting seeds in this "Spring" of my childrens' lives. May I be faithful, as you are faithful, to cultivate and nurture them in time for the Harvest. And give me wisdom to see what you would have me to do, every moment of every day.

God's Earthenware

Romans 9:20, "Will the thing formed say to him who formed it, 'Why have you made me like this?'"

The artist stands at his easel, a vision of perfection in his mind's eye. Stroke by stroke, he brings his idea to life. Steadily, painstakingly, a work of beauty emerges with each purposeful detail. Finished, he sets down his brush. Surprisingly, his tool is worn, mangled, deformed, misshapen. Amidst many others more pleasing to the eye, he chose this one for its particular usefulness.  And he stands back with delight, saying, "It is good."

In my son, the world sees disability, but the Lord, opportunity. God's economy runs contrary to ours; He delights to use His weakest vessel so that all credit may return to Him. Greater brokenness not only fails to hinder Him, it indeed even multiplies His glory, leaving his instrument to stand back and marvel.

Timothy, as long as you view your flesh as belonging to you for your own pleasure, you forfeit the blessing of God. Instead, you must learn to embrace God's purpose in creating you as He did. Consider yourself God's slave; desire to be fully His instrument; come not to be served, but to serve. Steward your body as you would the borrowed property of a King. When your suffering seems great, consider the agony of the crucified Christ. Offer your broken waterpot to God, and He will take it and shine His light through its cracks. Delight in the depth of your weakness and you will uncover a bottomless, flowing well of infinite joy. "My strength is made perfect in weakness," said the Lord, and Paul replied, "Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities... for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong." It is natural to question God, but always let your doubt be turned to trust as you rest in His grace and expectantly watch for His work through you. Place yourself freely in His hands and allow Him to use you howsoever He wills. He is the master artist, and His final work is always good.

Rom 12:1-2
"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."