My kids came home from a weekend at their dad's yesterday . . . yet another reminder of what a failure I feel like.  They had presents with them--all surprises--which made it more fun. I'm all about surprises.  But two of my three kids are all about figuring out my surprises and know me just a little too well, so they found the key to my locking closet and have already checked out many of their presents. 

They came home with individually packed bags of goodies.  Their dad's girlfriend baked!  She works full-time and she baked!  I haven't even started my baking.  I plan to . . . but it's almost lunch time on the day before Christmas.  Yeah.  That'll happen.

My house is a mess still.  My "to do" list is daily getting longer because of the things I keep moving to the next day.  I have five hours until church service and about twelve hours of stuff to do.  And oh yeah . . . . Do I plan on going in my pajamas?

I walk around feeling like a failure.  One day a year that I really want to be special, and I can't even pull that off.  To make matters worse, the plans I had for the kids and I to really focus on Jesus--to spend time in the scriptures, to quietly reflect on His advent (me, not the kids.  They don't do anything quietly.), to celebrate HIM even if nothing else got done . . . . I even failed at that.  I don't even have that to hold on to.  BUT . . .

Yesterday God gave me one of His presents.  I've asked Him to give me just one new insight into the Christmas story each year, and I got it yesterday.  My dear pastor taught from Isaiah 42:1-4, and I was reminded that Jesus came to satisfy the Law.  I was under the law.  God expected perfection from me, or I would receive death.  Again and again I failed.  I couldn't even be perfect for one day.  But He loved me.  So God, who was over the Law, placed Himself under the Law and kept it.  Then, even though He was innocent of transgressing it, even though HE had been perfect . . . He was judged, sentenced, and put to death by the Law, paying the price even though He had no debt.  That was His gift to me.  Not just payment for my failure, but His perfection.  God, who made the rules . . . who could change them at His will . . . who didn't need to prove that He never breaks the rules . . . He came anyway, and lived under them.  I sure wouldn't have done that. 

From time to time I've asked myself if God is truly humble.  Why should He be, He's God?  There is nothing for Him to be humble about.  Yet in this gift, I realized that God did show humility.  He did it by playing by His own rules.  He did it by coming in the person of Jesus . . . by confining Himself for a short time to human form and subjecting Himself, the Creator and Ruler of everything, to His own rules.

And He did it for me.  If I live another 40 years, I'll never understand why I didn't get the better end of the gift.  'Cause from appearances sake, he still got failure.  But now when He looks at me He sees Jesus . . .and He delights in both of us.  Cool.

The boys and I started listening to the third Luke Reports today, and while I was listening I got this picture of Jesus raising the dead and healing the sick.  I realized how scandalous that was in His day--to touch someone unclean (because of illness) or dead (very unclean!), caused the person who touched them to also become unclean.  This restricted them from worship, and in many ways from society, since no one else wanted to "catch" the uncleanness.  Seems like a silly rule for us.  How legalistic! 

I am coming to understand and believe more and more that every aspect of our physical lives here on earth is a breathable, livable, touchable picture of spiritual realities.  We humans need board books in spiritual matters, better yet the touchy-feely board books, and our loving Father who understands that gave us just what we needed.  Unfortunately, we often look at the board books and think they accurately picture real life.  We look at the picture--mere fantasy drawings of the real thing--and assume they accurately represent the spiritual realm (if we think about the spiritual realm beyond the fantasy at all). 

Much of the covenant with Israel, including their religious laws, festivals, and their very history is a huge part of this picture that God was drawing for us.  For a devout Israelite, to exchange being clean for uncleanness was tragic!  To become unclean because of disease . . . catastrophic!  As I listened to the story today, I imagined God, the essence of purity, holiness, and cleanness . . .  reaching out and touching the worst of filth.  Death.  Disease.  Prostitution.  Treason.  Jesus associated with these kind of people.  God associated with these kind of people.  Imagine kissing a corpse.  I've lost both my mom and my dad, as well as many other relatives and friends, and I couldn't even bring myself to touch them, much less kiss them!  Imagine hugging on an AIDS patient (yes, I know, it isn't passed that way!), or someone with Hepatitis, or some other VERY contagious disease.  Imaging hanging out with a Main Street hooker.  Imagine going out of your way to befriend a traitor to your country who wasn't even sorry about the danger or difficulty he imposed on your family by doing so.  Isn't this what Jesus did?  And all the while He claimed to be God!

Yet . . . as I really stop to think about it . . . even this is just a picture.  You see, I was dead.  I was so diseased, if anyone had known how bad I was, they wouldn't have wanted me near them.  I was the prostitute; I was the traitor.  And God Himself reached down from Heaven and touched my uncleanness.  No one else would even look at me. I was the beggar on the side of the road, and no one had the time to look at me.  Truth is, I didn't even want to look at myself.  But God had never taken His eyes off me.  He stopped all of Heaven and reached out and touched me.  The epitome of spiritual purity touched the dirtiest sinner--me.  He gave me life, healed me completely, and accepted me as His bride.  How do I wrap my brain around that?

I wonder what the dead guy did after Jesus restored him to life . . . or what became of the one who was healed.  Did he live life differently, or was it back to life as normal?  Did he have a heart for others in need?  What did he think of this Jesus who had touched him?  What am I to do with this?  How can I live for myself?  How can I think there is anyone who is unworthy of my time, assistance, love, help?

What do I do with Jesus?

What if she only dates?  After all, it’s only a date.  It starts with an interest in a boy . . . a little harmless flirting.  But we all know girls, when those hormones are raging . . . the control they like to have, so eventually the flirting looks more like chasing.  But it’s only a date she’s after.  Nothing more.  Eventually she corners one . . . the one she likes the most, the one she chases after the hardest.  He is all she thinks about night and day.  She awakens with him on her mind, watches carefully how she acts when he’s around, smiles a little more when she thinks of him (seems like she smiles most of the time nowadays), then goes to bed thinking of him, hoping to dream of him.

Eventually she gets the date.  She carefully grooms herself for it, hoping to be irresistible.  So the blouse is a little low-cut, the make-up a little too heavy.  She doesn’t look completely like the rest of the girls.  She’d never go that far.  But there is a little competition for his affections, so she must use what she has.  He arrives and she greets him.  All night she giggles at his jokes, even the off-color ones, talks of mindless things, and carries herself like a television ad, hoping to make the sale.  It’s only a date, but in the back of her mind, she is really hoping for more—a promise, protection, the feeling of being wanted and pretty.  All from a date.

At the end of the night, she lingers, talking just a little longer in his car, hoping he’ll make a move.  If he walks her to the door, she leans a little toward him, hoping for a kiss.  She also wants another date.  This date was just not enough.  He is so dreamy.  This scene replays itself again and again.  Sometimes there are repeated dates, often kisses given away.  On occasion, more is given, and it is a little frightening because each time it is harder to restrain herself.  It’s not only a date anymore.  With each successive relationship, she is looking for the commitment . . . for the happily ever after.  It never seems to come.  Every date eventually ends in heartbreak, betrayal, and scars.  She has to watch every boy chase after another, feeling like she wasn’t enough.  And where is her heart that she gave to him?  She’s beginning to look much more like all the other girls.

Little does she know that the day will come when she will finally find all she has been searching for all those long years.  He will look on her as the beauty that she was when she dreamed of that first date.  And yet, when she looks in the mirror, she will see the effects of a hard life of chasing one lover after another, and of giving away parts of her heart that were really meant only for Him.  If only she had let her heart sleep!  She will have great difficulty trusting Him, yielding to His authority, because of all the times she has been hurt, broken, wounded.  Still He will treat her like the treasure that she is to Him.  He will woo her, and treat her like a lady from the very beginning.  He will ask nothing of her, yet give her everything.  He will stay by her as she shows Him all the scars and sins, and failures, pursuing her again and again as she pulls away in her feelings of unworthiness.  In spite of everything, He will still love her, all the while moving toward His ultimate plan. 

One day, He will marry her.  He will dress her in white, having cleansed her from her filth and raised her to a place of honor.  He will lead her to the marriage supper, where he looks at her longingly.  And eventually, He will consummate the marriage with her, and none of the kisses she gave away, none of the times she went too far with another, none of the times she tried to satisfy the periods of loneliness and rejection with her own means—none of these things will have brought her the pleasure that His touch will.  And she will wish she had waited, had not wasted her time, her energy, her youth on things that never satisfied.  Yet still she will get happily ever after. . . the church will be His bride . . . for eternity.

Note:  Lately the Lord has really been instructing me on His most important purpose of marriage.  Marriage was given to illustrate the love and relationship between Christ and the Church.  Every attack on marriage is an attack on that picture.  As I lay fighting the loneliness of being single again, the Lord gave me a sweet reminder last night of how important it is to stay faithful to your spouse, even BEFORE you marry.  

Note:  I actually wrote most of this out in early March.  I've discovered recently that I had some really good posts that I started, but only saved as drafts, so I'm going to work on getting them out.

I have struggled with evangelism most of my adult life.  In fact, I kind of struggle with even the idea of evangelism.  I've read books and studied different "methods."  I've taken EE.  I know that I know what to share, I just can't often figure out how to bridge the gap between knowing what people need, and knowing how to get them to Him. 

Tonight my church began it's annual missions conference.  Our speaker works in a middle eastern country, and also heads up the church planting movement there.  What he shared was very helpful to me.  He taught from Genesis 3: 1-10.  As he showed us again the fall in the garden of Eden, he pointed out that Adam had three reactions to his sin.  First he tried to cover his guilt, then he tried to hide his shame, finally he hid in fear from God.  R explained that in sharing the Gospel in a Muslim country, it is not enough to just walk them through sin, Jesus, and salvation.  All of them are practicing their faith from a perspective of guilt, shame, or fear.  If they are struggling with guilt they try to work to relieve it.  They say prayers, give alms, keep the rules in the hope of doing enough to not be found as guilty as they are.  When they live in shame, they hide away from the eyes of others.  Sometimes they are harsh and demanding of their families to avoid shame.  He told the story of one man who actually left his home town rather than face shame, even though going to the capital city left this uneducated farmer with no way to provide for his family.  As for fear, the other two contribute to this.  It is a common reason for women to zealously practice their faith, since women and children are little more than property in many Muslim countries.

R shared with us how the impact he and his wife have had in sharing the Gospel and leading these precious people to the Lord who can meet their needs has come by entering into their guilt, shame, and fear.  When these people see men and women who genuinely care for the least of the least--the poor, the women, the infants, the hungry--and care for them well, with genuine interest in them as people, not as the means of relieving their own guilt, those watching are intrigued.  When believers in these countries live free from shame in their marriages and family relationships, and when they are fearless against superstitious beleifs, these people are curious.  It is only as they are shown that Jesus is the one who removes their guilt, covers their shame, and protects them from the things they fear, that they fall in love with Him and learn to trust Him instead of their own works and traditions.

As I pondered the lesson R was teaching tonight about leading Muslims in Middle Eastern countries to Jesus, I realized that these three consequences of sin are really no different in our own culture.  The only difference is the way guilt, shame, and fear are manifested, and the remedies we try to use to fix them.  I have watched people hide their guilt in careeers, in activities, even in family.  I have seen people who live through their kids.  Their kid must be smart, play football well, be beautiful, be popular (having all the "cool" gadgets), etc. They relieve their guilt by trying to give their kids everything, and their shame by driving them to be the best.  I know many people who live in fear.  Because of it we have insurance, investments, liability disclaimers, the FDA, and government regulations on everything from childcare to seatbelt use.  We medicate ourselves into apathy, and just in case we're still feeling a little guilt, shame, or fear, there's always "American Idol." 

I realized as I thought about this tonight that evangelizing America is the same as evangelizing Saudi Arabia or Sudan or Iraq.  First I have to expect people to be covering their guilt (It's not my fault! or running at breakneck pace to be best at everything), hiding thier shame (lots of shallow conversation with difficulty letting people see who they really are), and living in fear (accumulating enough possessions, power, or control to protect themselves or suffering from illnesses, depression/anxiety, and "low self-esteem.")  Next I have to be willing to enter into their lives for the long haul.  I have to be transparent with my own struggles, but confident in the power of Christ to meet my own needs.  I need to be available to meet their needs, whether it is an ear to listen to them, financial assistance, serving them and their families, and helping out in inconvenient crises. In all things, when they are agreeable or irritating, I must love them.  I need to pray for God to reveal those places where they are covering guilt, hiding shame, and running in fear, and I after God has used time to build a relationship of respect and relationship, I need to be bold enough and prayerful enough to gently, lovingly tell them that Jesus IS the answer to my problems, and He is the answer to theirs also.

 As I ponder this even more, I realize that my kids need this message.  They need to know that Jesus is the answer to their guilt, shame, and fears.  As I am home with them each day, I need to remember that they are my number one mission field. 

Today I found yet another reason why I stayed home with my babies, and why I encourage other moms to do so.

The boys and I have been praying for new children to watch.  Our baby girl that we've had for a year and a half will be leaving us in a few weeks (sniff * sniff * sob * sob*), and so will our supplemental income.  God is aleady answering our prayers.  Today we started caring for a little girl about two-years-old.  We will have her one to two days a week.  Her mom has been leaving her in childcare at the new "temple of pleasure" for kids.  (It's a childcare center where kids can do whatever they want--take classes in everything from sports to cooking to computers, play video games, sports, exercise . . .  you name it, they have it.  I really hate these places.  No offense meant to those who choose to utilize them, but I have serious reservations about anything where my kids get to indulge any interest or pleasure they want. But then again, I'm from the school of thought that believes they need time to be kids, dig worms out of the dirt, and play in the backyard. Crazy, I know.)

Anyway, the mom and I were briefly discussing payment this afternoon (we had already discussed it prior to me keeping her, but we were going over it again) and she mentioned that at the "temple" she was paying $400 a month.

Huh? I thought.  That's less than I charge a week for a new baby.  Then she told me that was for two days a week.

TWO DAYS!! That's $50 a day!!! And she was only leaving her for a few hours most days!

Andy you get the added bonus of your baby catching every bug that comes through the joint.  What a deal!

So I'm thinking . . . church, wake up!  Let's end our differences about moms working or not working.  Let those who choose to work spend their money employing moms who want to stay home, paying them well (at least what you would pay a daycare).  Your kids will get better care, fewer illnesses, and you'll be helping build the church through moms who want or need the quieter, simpler focus of building people and homes instead of careers.

Please do not read into this any comparison of "better" when I talk about a quieter, simpler focus.  I have come to realize that part of the reason God has me home is that I am so easily distracted and overwhelmed, that the busyness of a working woman's life would surely pull me away from Him and my family to our detriment.  It is best for me to be home.  It is best for my children.  I do see some circumstances where friends of mine are working, and it seems to be God's best plan for their families.  I'm still trying to work through what scripture says and means in this huge issue, so for now, I'm allowing for women to make this decision based on their conviction from scripture and based on God's quality of grace.  What I'd really like to see, and the point of this entry is mutual support within the church as we each live by our convictions.  We don't have to agree to trust God to direct each other and to encourage each other to do what we believe is biblically right.

Funny how just when I think I'm over all the pain from the past, and the baggage has been turned over to the Lord, I realize that I've grabbed it back again, am trying to carry it all, and it hurts!!!  I'm going through a new round of emotional stuff, questioning God at my core, even if I fear Him enough not to do so on the outside.  As usual, He answered me quickly . . . and sweetly.

"And if we plead with God for a while without realized success, it makes us more earnest . . . . The spade of agony is digging trenches to hold the water of life.  If the ships of prayer do not come home speedily, it is because they are more heavily freighted with blessing.  If you knock with a heavey heart, you shall yet sing with joy of spirit.  Never be discouraged!"

Charles Spurgeon, excerpts from his sermons in a devotional on prayer.

    As a father pities his children, so the LORD pities those
    who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we
    are dust. As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes
    like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and
    it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the
    steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to
    everlasting upon those who fear him, and his righteousness
    to children's children, to those who keep his covenant and
    remember to do his commandments.
    Psalms 103:13-18

Just some of my thoughts on these whispers from God:

Although my present "sufferings" seem long and hard, they can't be, since my days are like grass.  They will be less than a breath when I reach eternity.

Keeping his covenant and doing His commandments means I rely on His grace and cling to HIS steadfastness, not my own.  I could easily get discouraged by my own failure to obey Him, but I run back to the place where I remember that He sealed the covenant on His own because He knew I couldn't keep it.  My hope is in His perfect fulfilling of my price for sin, and in His perfect work to transform me into His likeness, even though the latter isn't finished yet.

Yesterday I had a brief conversation with a friend.  Her husband is wasting away, a victim of dibilitating depression.  Again I saw that unspoken question in her eyes: Why?  I have seen this question in the eyes of many of my friends and in others.  Abandonment. Divorce.  Wayward children. Chronic illness.  The impact of criminal sins on themselves and their families.  The list of suffering goes on displaying the creative nature endowed to man, merged with the corruption of the fall into sin.   It's product is a thousand twisted ways to hurt others in a world where all of our bodies are slowly wasting away.  Why?  Why does God allow parents to lose a child?  Why doesn't He stop the abuse?  Why does He seem to restrain Himself in all His limitless power against all that violates His glorious holiness?  As I have pondered the result of suffering, I come back to part of the answer--its results.

    Do not love the world or the things in the world. If any one
    loves the world, love for the Father is not in him. For all
    that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of
    the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father but is
    of the world. And the world passes away, and the lust of it;
    but he who does the will of God abides for ever.  (1 John 2:15-17)

In Genesis, Adam made a choice for all of us.  He chose to love himself more than God, and to love all the world had to offer more than love God's best plan.  I have not experienced the worst of suffering, but in the last decade I have almost died, lost both my parents, had my husband walk out on me (and all the loss that brings), and battled moderate depression and anxiety.  In all of these events, what I have discovered is that they forced me to my knees.  As I faced the fruit of what the world has to offer, it was bitter, and I found I didn't want it the way I thought I did.  I wish I could say my grip on the world is broken, but sadly, it isn't yet.  However instead of clinging to the things of the world now with both hands, I find myself only holding on by one, and I am convinced that I will not let go of what the other hand has.  It's like the scene in so many movies where the guy has gone over the cliff, and is being held by the hero with one hand, and all he has to do is let go of that thing weighing him down and preventing him from being fully pulled up. (Usually that weight is the bad guy . . . not sure whom the bad guy is that I'm clinging to: the old me or the enemy?) In my life, the only thing keeping me from living a life filled with all the Father has planned is my reticence to let go of all the other things I love.  And to me, that is a part of the reason for suffering.  The more it hurts, the more willing I am to let go.

I have heard the same thing verbalized as I have talked to many others who are carrying their cross and suffering as Jesus suffered.  They are letting go of all the other things in the world, as they find hope and peace only in God. As my friend and I talked yesterday, we both shared of our longing for heaven.  I can still remember not having that longing, but instead hoping the Lord would tarry in His return so I could enjoy life.  Ha!  No enjoyment there.  Come soon Lord!  I can also look back on my life and see things I thought I could not live happily without--financial security, TV, even family--and I dicover in myself I don't even long for those things back. (OK, there is some longing for family, but God is slowly getting it through my thick head that the family bonds He offers are more true than anything I had the illusion of having with my earthly family.)  As I consider all I have let go of, and the way it was bringing death into my life, I am grateful for the life that God has brought as I have learned to let go.  And I search for the next thing I need to let go of so that I can fall more in love with Him.

Desiring revenge, or at least justice is something I am very familiar with.  Like most people I have been hurt by others, deliberately and seriously.  I have wanted them to at least understand how much pain they've caused and the fact that they caused it, and at worst . .  .well, you understand.  Being very tender-hearted, I get hurt easily, and carry it with me a long time.  In spite of my sensitivity, I have had things happen which would deeply hurt anyone.

I'm also very sentimental.  I suffer from two kinds of sentiment.  I treasure things that people I love have touched, or had, or have done with me, which includes just about everything.  But then there are the very special, important sentimental things, like the three ceramic wise men my mom made in Puerto Rico and which celebrated each Christmas with my family ever since I was a child.  They are very special to me, as are many of my cherished Christmas decorations.  So I have a major rule during Christmas: No throwing anything or roughhousing in the house. 

A week ago, I caught one of my boys throwing his new football in the living room, and he received the command to go outside.  Not wanting to go that far, he went to the hall, where he knocked one of my mother's kings off the shelf.  He came crying to me, telling me over and over how sorry he was.  I confess I raised my voice for a few minutes, but then I looked in his eyes.  I saw how afraid he was because he knew how special this decoration was to me.  As this broken king cried for justice, I stood at a crossroads, and I knew it.  Compassion (and the Holy Spirit) washed over me, and I pulled him close and told him that although I was disappointed that he disobeyed me and broke the king, I loved him so much more and would of course forgive him.

It has brought to my mind the fact that people are broken too.  I was broken, and maybe still am in some places.  It is easy to stand and cry to God the Potter for justice.  "Break them, like they've broken me!" I cry.  But when I demand that, I forget that God just might be looking into the eyes of a scared child.  He sees their heart, and knows that they are aware at the deepest level of their offenses.  He also knows that He has the power to fix broken me, and He longs to extend mercy to the offender.  Just as I pulled Stephen close and taught him just a little more how extreme my love is for him, God longs to pull my ex-husband close and to whisper words of love to him.  And if He chooses to do that, I must trust Him.

Tonight I glued the king together again.  There were still cracks and places where the paint had chipped off.  God doesn't fix things like that.  He will put me back together, and I will be whole . . . even better than I was.  I pray He will put my broken ex-husband together again too, with His love and mercy, and with His forgiveness.

I told Stephen tonight that when he is grown, if those kings are still around, I want him to have them.  I want him to remember how much his mommy loved him.  I need to remember how much my Father loves me too  . . . when I see in people the cracks.

It's only January 4th (oops, I guess the 5th now), and I'm already feeling defeated on my New Year's goal.  Not exactly my fault . . . well . . . maybe.  Early Tuesday morning, the day I was going to get started getting my house in order, my school planned, and Christmas stuff put away, two of the boys woke up sick.  Really sick!  Although they were over the worst about a quarter of the way through the day, I wasn't.  I slept all day.  Every time I woke up and thought I'd get up and try to get something done, I just couldn't, and I'd fall back to sleep.  Late Tuesday night, I started getting sick, so I know now that my body was fighting it hard even before I saw the signs of having something. Wednesday was spent just recovering--finally eating, resting a little more, and getting up a little to build up my energy again.

So what did we do on these two sick days?  Why, watch TV, of course!  I feel like such a slug and a failure!  Of course, I didn't watch much TV Tuesday.  Every time I'd put something on I'd fall asleep--probably a good thing, and a sure sign that something wasn't right with me.  So tomorrow I try again . . . to keep it off . . . and to resume life.

One of the hardest things for me is how to tell the boys that we have to cut off watching one of their favorite shows.  I previewed the next season tonight (OK, only one disk of the next season), and it's just going to postmodern on us.  Good guys that act like bad guys, bad guys you feel sorry for, ends justifying hte means, way too much skin and romance--I'm just not ready for them to see all of this.  But I feel trapped.  As parents, how do we change gears on our kids when we've let them do something, and all the sudden can't anymore?  I know how stupid it would be to continue doing something that goes against my conscience, but how do I correct it and keep their hearts on my team? 

I need to do some serious praying on this.  And I think the TV just needs to stay off altogether for a while.

But take heed to yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down
    with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and
    that day come upon you suddenly like a snare; for it will
    come upon all who dwell upon the face of the whole earth.
    But watch at all times, praying that you may have strength
    to escape all these things that will take place, and to
    stand before the Son of man.

Luke 21:34-36

A new year always makes me feel a little overwhelmed.  Thinking of all the goals I set the year before that I more or less failed to accomplish, feeling the pressure of getting all the "real life" stuff done when I need to also be thinking and planning ahead for the year--all of this makes me feel like I'm under a huge load.  It is helpful--sometimes--to begin asking the Lord what His goals for my year are, but even then sometimes I feel like I hit a wall.  This year, today, I got hit by a club instead.

Every morning I have a verse e-mailed to me.  I have had this done for years, and the Lord has used these verses in very interesting ways like like the time He reminded me to trust Him during some pretty bad hurricanes.  This morning the above verse was in my in-box, and as I pondered it a bit, I realized that this is the direction God wants me to take this year. 

It would be easy to skim through scripture and see the word "drunkenness" and think, "Check!  I don't drink at all, so this one is covered!"  But this morning that word hit me differently.  It brought to mind all the areas of excess in which I indulge.  Then that word dissapations caught my eye, so I went to Matthew Henry's commentary and to the dictionary to see what that meant.  Interestingly, a synonym for the word is "amusements," and it refers to things we do in excess.  Hmmm . . . .

Recently I have been under conviction over how much time I allow myself to pursue recreation.  As a single mom, I often have people say to me, "Be sure you take some time for yourself."  For me, that is not really a problem.  I'm good at taking care of myself, but I never feel like I finish things or get caught up.  I feel like I'm perpetually behind.  What I've been resisting is that the way I relax is all wrong.  I watch TV instead of reading a book.  I play computer games instead of working on a craft (like my scrapbooks!).  I have recently become impressed with the sense that one of Satan's lies to me as a middle-class American is that relaxation is equated with doing nothing, and by golly, I deserve time to do nothing!  I am realizing that too many of my recreation activities are for the most part completely unproductive.  And I feel like I spend lots of time on them, which means I feel like I am producing nothing.  I have felt under conviction because I can get my one or two games of Zuma in each day, but I can't find time to study my Bible.  I'm prepared to discuss the latest DVD releases, but I don't have an answer ready for the Jehovah's witnesses who come to my door wanting to discuss the deity of Christ.  What is wrong with me?

So here I am, at the beginning of a new year, realizing that changes in my year must begin with changing the way I use my time.  I must MAKE time to read my Bible.  I must weigh how I use my "Lisa time" so that more of it is productive than unproductive (realizing that ALL my time is actually God's time!).  Yes, I need rest and recreation to stay fresh.  But I need to change the way I think of recreation.  If I get out my camera and work on photographing one of my kids in different ways, I've done something I love, something that's fun, and I've worked on something I hope to turn into a business all at the same time.  If I spend time writing on my blog, I've done something I enjoy, but I've ministered to others as well.  If I read a book, well, that speaks for itself. 

I need to be spending a lot of time praying about this . . . because I don't want to be here a year from now feeling like I've totally blown this!

Right now I am reading Blue Like Jazz (among many, many other books!).  I truly LOVE this book.  It is the account of how the author came to Christ in post-modern America in an unconventional way (and in spite of the church).  His writing is crisp and interesting, and he has such interesting observations.

A couple of my favorite quotes:

"I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time.  This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious.  If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God."

"The genius of the American system is not freedom;  the genius of the American system is checks and balances.  Nobody gets all the power.  Everybody is watching everybody else.  It is as if the founding fathers knew, intrinsically, that the soul of man, unwatched, is perverse."

These are just from the second chapter!  This is a very interesting book.  I'll let you know what else I like about it as I continue reading.

Today I sat in our worship service and watched my youngest son.  He was perched in the lap of one of my close friend's husbands.  Mike has really taken AJ into his heart.  Although he enjoys each of my boys, Mike has delighted in things unique to AJ, appreciating the energy, the extroverted personality, and the imagination of my little guy.  The day I took AJ to the emergency room with his broken arm, Mike went with me.  And every week, AJ sits in his lap at church (a relief to me as I am able to pay more attention to the sermon!). 

Each of the boys has one or more men in their lives who fill holes left there from the absence of a dad who lives with us in the home.  Josh has a number of men from church and scouts who fill different varying needs.  Stephen has his best friend's dad, who is just there letting Stephen be a boy--run wild with weapons, talking about gross stuff, or burning things (in the bonfire, not the house!). 

So today I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the men God has put in my boys' lives.  I love the idea of one really great guy who takes one of my little boys under his wings and disciples him by meeting with him weekly to do a Bible study and calls him to see how he's doing.  But that's just not the way God has seen fit to do it.  Instead he puts my boys around real men, living out their faith with their families and lets the boys see what godly men living real lives looks like.  I'm so thankful that with all these men have to do, they are willing to include my kids in their lives.  They are a blessing to me and to the boys.

So tonight, I'm thanking God for them.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile."   Jer 29:11-14 (NIV)

I'm feeling a bit down today, so being here, thinking about all my blessings is the best place for me!  I just hit days--many days!--when I feel like I can't do it any longer.  I'm tired.  I feel like I'm doing a miserable job at everything--educating the kids, taking care of myself as I watch age beginning to take its toll, keeping my home from falling down around me (literally!--I worry about the bug treatment I can't find time to get estimates on, the possible mildew in the walls that I have no time to assess, the basic maintenance that I have no clue about, etc.!). 

But when I sat down tonight to decide on something to thank God for, I remembered how helpless I felt all those days after my husband left us.  I remember how I grieved after Daddy died.  I remember those moments when I thought I was losing my mind because of anxiety and panic attacks.  And I remember . . . even in those moments I had something to cling to.  I had hope. 

Even as I questioned Him . . . even as I wondered how I could have expected such a different life only to misunderstand the plan . . . even then, I knew deep down that God is good, that He loves me, and that there will come a day when all the tears will be redeemed, all the pain will be cast at His feet in glory, and I will never have to wonder about life again.  I still know that.  So on days when my life IS completely falling apart I will praise Him through the tears.  On the days my life just seems to be falling apart, I will remember that it's all dust anyway, and I will praise Him.  And on the days when things are going just right, and I feel good, well . . . of course, I'll praise Him.

My "day of captivity" is not over yet.  I will have to face many more days of feeling the pain of the curse.  But for now, I will get up every day looking for His face, seeking it until that day when I will see it face to face.  Then I'll know I'm home, and my hope will be fulfilled.  Gosh!  I can't even imagine what that will be like!

I am trying to stay away from my childlike thanksgivings--you know the ones: my house, my car, my computer, my books!!!  I am VERY thankful for all these things, but these are Duhhhh . . . thanksgivings.  Tonight as I pondered what I am really thankful for--what I'm thankful for that will last--I find myself thankful for glimpses. 

This year, God has moved me a little further down the road of ministry.  I've known I was being called into women's ministry for a decade or more now, but I had no idea it would require so many wilderness years to get me ready for it.  This year, God has let me write again.  He's brought me into contact with people who have encouraged and affirmed my gifts, talents, and my call.  He's given me a taste of the joy and excitement that I will know more of as He continues to give me tasks to do.

He has also given me glimpses of how He is using me in the lives of others.  I have been allowed to help in the shaping of the ideas of believers who are just discovering the reliability and authority of scripture.  I have been expsed to the depths of suffering which I am permitted to help relieve.  I am beginning to see moments of payoff in the boys' lives as the spiritual truths begin to shange them.  I've had lots of glimpses of how God can use a simple, average woman to change things according to His plan.

I've also gotten glimpses of how He is changing me.  There are things I am doing that I could never have done before.  My responses are different than they were in highschool, or evey a few years ago.

No, God still hasn't unfolded the whole plan to me.  Often I still wonder where we are going, or how long it will take to get there.  Much of what He does in me, through me, to me, or for me doesn't make much sense.  But in those moments that life is confusing, or uncertain, or just hard . . . I remember some glimpse He HAS given me.  So tonight, I'm thankful for glimpses.

Now those of you who know me,  know that when I say I'm going to do something each day, I don't actually mean EVERY day.  You have to take into account the forgetfulness factor, contributed to by the lose-half-your-brain-with-every-pregnancy factor (I'm down to an eighth . . . of my brain).  Anyway, for me the key is don't give up even if you forget!  So . . . .

Today I'm thankful for the opportunity to homeschool.  Often I feel like life is so chaotic and crazy because I homeschool.  My house is usually a wreck.  The kids argue all the time!  I feel like I have to be mean all day to get schoolwork done.  "Why do I do this?" I think.  But then, every once in a while, I get a glimpse of what our life really is.  We aren't in the car all the time . . . or even most of the time. The boys might fight a lot, but they also play together (sometimes!).  They get to be a part of serving other families in the church through childcare or other things I do or that we do together.  They have many of the same friends regardless of the age of the kids. 

And did I mention the education they are getting.  No, we don't do much art . . .or music . . . and P.E. only when I feel like doing it at the YMCA.  Their education is probably not as "well-rounded" as those kids "in school" are getting, but what they are getting is tailored to their strengths and considerate of their weaknesses.  One of my boys is a dreamer and has a hard time focusing, but together he and I are working to come up with solutions to help him work more effectively.  And I know when he's had a particularly hard day, and can adjust his work accordingly instead of making him feel like a failure.  Another of my boys moves all the time.  He even sleepwalks it's so hard for him to stay still!  His education is done on the move.  And in spite of the fact that I sometimes wonder what he is actually learning and remembering, I heard just today that in Sunday School he has unusual insight for his age and fits in just fine.   My oldest has already finished almost a full year of Language Arts--in just one semester!  And he took a Keyboarding class and almost knows more about our computer now than I do (which is why I fully intend on insisting he take some programming and web design!). Their education may not be completely conventional, but they are clearly getting a good education.

And well . . . OK . . . I'm busted.  I love homeschooling for me.  I'm thankful for all the things I'm getting to learn that I never knew before. (Because hey!  I went to public school!)  I LOVE learning with my kids and then getting to share with them my grown-up insights into whatever WE are learning together (while they give me that glazed over yeah-lets-just-get-on-with-it look). 

Four years ago, I thought my homeschool aspirations were going out the window because I had become a single mom.  I'm so grateful that God knew how much I still needed to learn!  And I'm thrilled that He has decided to homeschool us!

Tonight I find myself reflecting on men and women who have faithfully studied, taught, returned to, argued, studied some more, and clung to the scriptures.  I have inheirited a legacy from these men that seems at times unbelievable to me.  That I should benefit from the blood, sweat, and tears of another man!  As the boys and I have studied the Reformation, I have been awestruck at the courage and conviction of men who defied the established leaders to cling to what God revealed to them was true.  Many of them died for their convictions, or at least suffered things I could never conceive of enduring. 

I think also of the men God has put into my own life--Barry Leventhal, Jon Krug, Greg Holladay, Rod Whited, John Findlay, and Phil Smuland--and many others who were not pastors.  These men faithfully exposited the Word of God in the presence of my attentive (and occasionally not-so-attentive) ears.  Any credit or praise I receive for what I know of scripture certainly belongs to God via these effective instruments whom He used to teach me of Himself.

And of course, I would be remiss if I did not mention my parents.  Although they did not suffer to the extent of some of my heroes, they were faithful in living lives of testimony to God's redemptive work before my tender, watchful eyes.  My dad was an amatuer theologian who gave me my love for difficult theology.  My Mom was an excellent wife and one who excelled even the noblest of women because she hungered for God's Word above all other things.  I never saw her satisfied in what she knew or understood of scripture, and I hope to be just like her.  They lived and breathed, walked and talked, and LIVED the Gospel of Christ. 

To these people, some whose names you've read, and some who are known only to myself and to God . . . I am part of their legacy.  I pray I will be faithful to thier hard work and devotion.  And tonight I praise God for putting them into my life.

As I was doing the dishes tonight, I was thinking over the last decade of my life.  I was teasing my friend who just turned 30--and was thrilled about it--that the 30's were the worst years of my life.  Actually it all started before that when my mom died.  I was 27.  Things went along more smoothly until I was 33, then I had an emergency C-section with my son, and later the same year we moved into a new house.  I began homeschooling my second son the fall before the move, so the year was more than a little overwhelming for me.  Just as I was beginning to settle into the new house, my husband got a transfer to the Investigations department of the sheriff's office where he worked, and although it was less demanding initially, it quickly became hectic as drought in north Florida put all the law enforcement officers on extra duty. Fourteen months after our move, my husband left me.  That was an especially hard thing to recover from, and it took almost two years to feel like I was on top of things again.  I had a year to be on top of things, then my dad died, and I was a for-real single mom. 

OK, so where's the thanksgiving in all of this?  I certainly have NOT had it bad--I know many single moms and married ones who have had more calamity than I have.  But what I found myself grateful for tonight is change.  I am grateful that life is an adventure.  Even when it had been hard and dark and depressing, I have sensed God's presence and grown closer to Him through it.  I am often guilty of using my vivid imagination to escape from real life into my own fantasy one where everything is perfect.  What I find in that world though is that it quickly becomes boring.  I have to change the scenario often enough to keep it interesting.  Don't have to do that in real life.  God does plenty of changing for me.  And He's always there with me.

I am grateful to God for change.  I know that although the last decade (or so) has brought tragedy into my life, it has brought joy also--three new babies, a new house, many friends, a deeper understanding of scripture, an awareness of my call, a new tenderness toward people, and a job I love (OK, am I talking about the childcare one, or the mommy one?  I'm not sure.  I love both!), and many other things.  When my dad died, I found myself realizing how much He had grown me when I never panicked.  I knew God was just changing my direction, and that He would lead and provide.  And He has.

So tonight, I am thankful that things change.  And that God is providentially and soveriegnly in control of all of those changes.

Today I find myself grateful for all the things God has taught me this year on grace.  He is so expanding my understanding of how much I need Him every day.  Although I understood what it meant to be saved as a very young child, and accepted Christ into my life then, I lived a long time under the deception that I had to control my own life.  I was deceived into believing that although I needed God's grace to be saved, from that point on it was all up to me.  I tried to contol myself, control my life . . . even control others around me!  Of course, it didn't work too well.  I spent most of my life in a cycle of extreme self-discipline (and exhausted!) or extreme chaos (with many feelings of failure!).  Only as God has removed each one of my dreams come true, allowed me to face failure, heartache, and my worst fears, have I come to understand a little more how desperately I need Him to make it through the next hour.  I have spent nights crying on the floor over lost loved ones.  I have wondered where the next mortgage payment was coming from, and --hello!--am I crazy to think it is truly important to stay home and raise my children.  I have spent hours at a time fighting irrational anxiety and fear in the middle of the night, feeling isolated and unable to think who to call--a good thing when I finally called out to the God who watches over me all night long.  In all my struggles--physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual--I have learned that I need Jesus.

I've also learned that if I'm not such a good housekeeper--Jesus knows I'm trying to do the best with what I have, and as long as I'm not quitting, He's not either.  If we have a day when school isn't going so well, and we decide to spend the day watching "Little House on the Prairie,"  Jesus isn't going to cause the social worker to drop by that day.  When I'm blown it again with my budget (or lack of one), Jesus isn't going to withhold provision from me until I can get it together.  Every time I go before God, He sees Jesus.  He sees Jesus keeping a perfect house, Jesus perfectly instructing my children, Jesus being perfectly wise financially.  That's grace!  Grace is remembering I'm his daughter, not His science project.

This year, I'm thanking Him that I understand grace just a little more.  And I'm asking Him to keep teaching it to me!

Many churches do not work as God intended.  Indeed, most are tainted by the sin which we all struggle with.  For many single moms, the shortcomings of the church can become glaring reminders of our aloneness and pain.  I am not in one of those churches however, and in fact, mine does an awfully good job of being what Chirst commands his people to be to the widows and fatherless.

That is my praise for day two.  I am thankful for my church.  Every time I go to a function, or just a get-together of people at my church, I look around the room and realize just how much I love the individuals and families represented there.  My church does not have too many organized "ministries" to women like me, it is just full of warm loving people who live out their faith by ministering and caring for each other.  I have a lady who regularly drops off a bag of clothes for the boys.  There are few people (actually, I've noticed none!) who shake their heads or seem to grow tired of the days when my response to "How are things going?" is honest--and honestly hard, discouraging, or difficult.  They don't expect me to always approach this hard life with optimism or a carefree attitude because . . . well . . .  it's hard!  I have individuals who love and care for my boys, families who help me out when the weed eater quits working or I have unknown bugs in my kitchen.  One of the men in my church went through the trouble of handling the sale of an extra car I had for me.  They are a truly extraordinary people who reflect the glory of God by living a life of service and love just as He did. 

I thank God that I am part of a covenant familly who should be a model for what all churches should be.  I pray He will receive much glory and praise because of them.  And I love them.