Inn Weekend

A few weeks ago, we packed our bags for a little weekend getaway with my parents, grandma, and siblings. We spent the weekend at an inn just a couple hours from home and had a wonderful time! The weather was chilly and the grounds were covered with snow, perfect conditions for the inn's toboggan run. The weekend was filled with birthday celebrations (for Mom, Dad, and Becky), laughter, games, hot chocolate, tobogganing, relaxing by the fire, puzzles, swimming, and lots of delicious food! 

 

 

Treasures of Darkness

I have always struggled with doubt.

It's not something I like to admit, but it's true. Some people rest in their faith; I wrestle with mine. For many years, I feared that my doubts made me a "bad" Christian. Recently, however, I've learned to rejoice in times of doubt. Why? Because in times of doubt I chase after God. Desperately.

During the last few weeks, doubt has once again crept into my heart and mind. But this week I read a verse that helped put my doubt in its place. Isaiah 45:3 says, "I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who call you by your name." I know that I'm not considering the larger context of this verse, but the part about "treasures of darkness" really spoke to my heart. My doubts, although places of darkness, have become unlikely treasures.

When I doubt, I often search for intellectual arguments to substantiate my faith in God, to prove His existence. I long to approach faith like a scientist, verifying my hypothesis with empirical data. In reality, however, "faith is confidence of what we hope for and assurance of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). For me, science and faith are at odds. Science seeks to explain that which can be tested and observed, while faith rests itself in that which cannot. When I attempt to justify my faith solely through intellectual arguments and empirical data, I am attempting to reduce faith to fact. In effect, I render faith superfluous in my demand for facts.

In addition, when I attempt to substantiate God's existence with facts, I reduce Him to something my mortal, finite mind can understand. In effect, I recreate God in my image. In my quest for proof, I demand that my holy, sovereign Creator limit Himself to that which can be understood by me, His lowly creature - I reduce God to creature rather than Creator. A God who can be fully explained by His creatures is no God at all, for who can worship someone who is wholly understandable and fathomable? I could not (and would not want to!) put my faith in a God I could fully understand.

With God, there are no contradictions. There are only mysteries that my mortal mind cannot explain. My prayer is that I would be awakened to these mysteries, that God would let me rest in His sovereignty and holiness. May I always be mindful of my "creature-liness" when I consider the mysteries of my Creator.

This week, my doubts have forced me to reflect upon what I know about God. When I doubt, I am desperate for a glimpse of my Heavenly Father; I chase the Lord, the God of Israel.

And these doubts? They've become a treasure of darkness because they keep me in continual pursuit of my Creator.

Parenting My Child's Heart

I am always reading. Always.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been surrounded by books. My nightstand is perpetually covered with a pile of unread novels, I never leave home without at least one book tucked away in my purse, and every trip to the mall begins with a stop at Barnes and Noble. Yep, I love reading.

Thankfully, we serve a God who uses our passions to draw us closer to Him. Throughout the past few months, God has been using my love of reading to strengthen my faith and encourage me on the journey of discipleship. More on that later. He has also directed me to some good reads about prayer, a discipline I have chosen to focus on this year. Praying for Boys: Asking God for the Things They Need Most by Brooke McGlothlin is one of those good reads. Although I am not even halfway through the book, I find that Brooke’s words are already speaking to my heart.

Throughout Praying for Boys, Brooke teaches parents (especially mothers) how to pray for what their sons need most. Focusing on things like overcoming fear and developing a servant’s heart, Brooke demonstrates how we can pray Scripture for our sons. In the chapter about praying for heart change, Brooke writes, “I have absolutely no power to change the hearts of my boys … I know that what’s in their heart eventually comes out. I know if their knees are ever to bend to Jesus as Savior, their hearts must bend first … Until the King of Kings and Lord of Lords turns your son’s heart of stone to a heart of flesh, his actions will be motivated by what is pleasing to himself rather than by what is pleasing to the Lord” (58).

This idea, although simple, stopped me in my tracks. You see, I know this is true. I know that until Asher gives his heart to Jesus, he will live for himself. I know that Asher’s heart must change before his behavior can change. I know that God alone is capable of softening Asher’s heart.

I know these things. But does that knowledge inform the way I parent? I’m afraid the answer is no. And I suspect that I’m not alone.

Far too often, our parenting targets our children’s behavior rather than their hearts. Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Our thoughts, words, and actions are rivers that flow from the deep wellspring of our hearts. If the waters of our hearts are pure and good, this purity and goodness will overflow into our thoughts, words, and actions as well. But if we allow the waters of our hearts to be polluted by the world and our own sinful desires, the pollution will spread to the way we think, speak, and act. Because we are a fallen people, our hearts are naturally polluted, inclined to selfishness and sin. We need a Savior. Only Jesus can transform the heart.

As parents, it is important to remember that our children’s hearts are naturally polluted, and only Jesus can bring about genuine transformation. In the short term, we might be able to “fix” some of our children’s wrong behavior. But if we stop there, we are treating a symptom rather than the disease. In the long term, a heart change must take place if our children are to experience authentic transformation. We are powerless to change our children’s hearts on our own; only Jesus can do that. But we can spend time on our knees, crying out to the Great Changer of Hearts. We can be prayer warriors for our children, appealing to the God who is in the business of transformation.

When I think about how I can target Asher's heart with my parenting, I think about my Heavenly Father who relentlessly pursues my heart. I think about the way He has transformed my life, and I realize that my heart has been won by His grace and love. My Heavenly Father is patient and present. He is slow to anger, abounding in love. His love is unconditional, and He draws me to Himself in spite of my sinfulness. I have been shown how to parent my child's heart in the way my Heavenly Father cares for me. I pray that God cultivates these qualities within me as I pray for and pursue my child's heart. 

This Season

I find myself in a difficult season of life. A growing season. A giving season. A gasping-for-grace season.

On days when I’m feeling especially courageous, I tell myself that every soul-stretching moment of this difficult season is an opportunity for God to refine me, to scrub the cob-webbed corners of my sin-stained heart. On days when I’m feeling especially courageous, it’s easy for me to remember that God has led me here to care for my Grandma, that my God goes before me, and that where He leads me I am desperate to follow.

But if I’m honest? I must admit that I have embarrassingly few courageous days.

Most days, I feel like a failure. Most days, I believe I am not patient enough or organized enough or selfless enough to sail smoothly through this season. I yearn for what we left behind, wonder about what lies ahead, and question why God put us here. I feel a bit like a wanderer, like a soul stranded in the wilderness.

And, as uncomfortable as it feels to be a rootless wanderer, I want to remember every soul-stretching moment of the journey. Wilderness and all.

I want to remember what this season has taught me about my own limitations – how God searched the dark places of my heart to uncover impatience and anger and selfishness. I want to remember the uncomfortable feeling of staring at my own sinfulness and realizing my desperate need for a Savior.  Of course I would rather sweep these ugly habits under the rug and remind God of my more redeeming qualities, but this season has taught me a valuable lesson about my identity. I am a sinner in need of grace. On my own, I am not enough. But Jesus is. I want to remember the way my own shortcomings force me to reach desperately for the steady hand of my Savior. Every. Single. Day.

I want to remember what this season has taught me about being misunderstood. When people hear about our decision to care for my Grandma, some of them begin making assumptions. Some people assume that we moved so we could send our son to a more affluent school. Others ask vague questions to determine if our move was prompted by financial difficulties. By far the most common reaction to hearing about our current living situation is, “So when your Grandma dies, will you get to keep the house?” (Really?! Who believes this is an appropriate question to ask?) I want to remember what it’s like to be misunderstood. I want to remember the confidence of resting in God’s will, even when other people raise their eyebrows and scratch their heads and question our priorities.

I want to remember what this season has taught me about letting go. Of small things and big things. I want to remember how absolutely excruciating it can be to let go of hopes and dreams and plans. But I also want to remember that God does His best work when I let go.

It is a difficult season. But it is a good season. And I know my Savior leads me.