Currently viewing the tag: "Nathan"
Nathan can’t stand the phrase, “Never say never.” I’m not sure why, exactly, but it drives him crazy. “But you just DID say never!…” Somehow the irony is lost on him.
I’ve had several “never say never” experiences in life. Here are a few:
“I will never homeschool my children.”
Just started Year 5.
“I will never live in a big city.”
We’re right outside Los Angeles.
“I will NE-VER have a housedog.”
Have I mentioned Belle the basset hound?
“I will never color my hair.”
I really meant that, too, until the day my stylist plucked out a few grays.
I really meant all of those things, actually. But…never say never.
What say you? What is something you said you’d never do? Have you had to eat those words? Leave your “never say never” in the comments!
Recently Nathan took a paper airplane to the top of a hill near our house. It was a very windy day, and he was excited to watch it soar.
A gust of wind crash-landed the plane only a few steps away, though. Nathan walked over and bent down. Just as he reached out to retrieve it, he saw (at least in his mind), a “coiled-up snake, right by the plane!” Nathan said the snake snapped at his hand.
Nathan has never moved so fast in his life. He didn’t run down the hill.–He flew, screaming, “Snake! Snaaaake!” all the way.
Maybe it was a rattlesnake, and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was only a leaf, blowing in the wind. But no matter–he saw a snake, snapping at his hand, and he could think of only one thing: retreat.
Spiritually speaking, I’m so similar. I climb by faith to the very mountaintop with God. There I stand, ready to soar. But the instant something “crashes”–when obedience gets tough–my faith melts. I no longer notice His Spirit at work. I forget the great heights to which God has brought me. I see only the scary things–the “snake”, snapping at my hand. And I think of only one thing: retreat.
“But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.” (Hebrews 10:39) Faith isn’t timid or unsure. It is bold and certain. Faith doesn’t shrink back. It advances. Retreat leads to destruction, but faith leads to salvation.
God, make Hebrews 10:39 a reality in me. May I not shrink back with fear. May I instead walk with confidence wherever You lead. I want my faith to please You, God–for You to be proud of how much I trust You. I will never retreat, Lord. By Your Spirit in me, let me soar. Amen.
This week, Nathan changed career paths.
“Mom, you know how I’m gonna be a pastor when I grow up? Do you think I should be a writer instead? Or maybe I could be a pastor who writes books when he’s not preaching.”
It started when Andy brought home an old leather portfolio notebook from his office. Nathan began filling pages and pages of the legal pad inside. His book–novella?–is sixteen chapters of Harry Potter meets Star Wars, as told by a ten-year-old boy. Because what else does a ten-year-old boy tell, besides Harry Potter and Star Wars?
When he thumbtacked this sign to the wall outside his bedroom, I laughed and cried at the same time. I especially like the afterthought penciled in at the bottom. “Unless it is important…” Pastor-Authors don’t want to sound unhelpful.
A warning, the back-story, and the story…
Warning: This post is shockingly improper and I should be ashamed of myself. Mom, you may want to stop reading now.
Back-story: I often make up my own words. Mostly, I add endings that don’t belong. For example, “showoffiness” or “complainingness”. But some words, I discovered the hard way, should not be made.
Story: Jay Thomas, the president of our town’s Six Flags, attends our church. He and his family are also in our life group. In his two years in Santa Clarita, Jay has turned our Six Flags around into a safe, clean, family-friendly environment. We were excited, then, when he invited our entire life group to come to Six Flags on New Year’s Eve as his special guests.
With Jay’s VIP passes, we enjoyed free admission, free food, a great view of the fireworks display at midnight, and flash passes to the front of the line for the rides. (Only, we didn’t use the front-of-the-line rights, because I felt guilty for all the perks. I have issues.) We had a fantastic night and could not have enjoyed ourselves more.
All evening, Nathan was quite proud of his VIP pass. He mentioned several times that he’d never been a “real VIP” before. He thought we were famous. At the end of the evening, Nathan said, “I’m gonna keep this pass, and if anybody tells me what to do, I’ll say, ‘I’m a VIP, and I know Jay Thomas, and I can do whatever I want.’”
In a slight scold, I said, “Well, we don’t want to take advantage of our VIP-ness.”
VIP-ness.
I will let you repeat that to yourself until you understand why I have sworn off word-building. And why my ten-year-old laughed until he cried. And why I’m blushing as I type this, even now.
Happy 2010. You are all VIPs to me.
As a baby, Nathan often woke up hungry after his naps. When I heard him stirring, I’d heat water for a bottle, and have it ready when I retrieved him from his crib. One day, though, I was too slow. Nathan whined at first, then whimpered, and by the time I mixed the powdered formula, he was completely wailing. He cried at the top of his lungs in his bed while I worked as fast as I could in the kitchen.
Did he think I would let him starve? Hadn’t I fed him every few hours a day, his entire life? I shook the bottle a little harder than necessary and said out loud to my kitchen, “Nathan, if you could only see what I’m doing, you wouldn’t cry. You’d know I’m taking care of you.”
And then it hit me. How often did God say the same thing to me?
“Child, if you could only see My hand at work behind the scenes, you wouldn’t worry!”
“Haven’t I always taken care of you? Am I not faithful?”
“Why do you complain and doubt? If you trusted My character, you’d know I have your best in mind.”
Lord, You are faithful.–You never leave me nor forsake me. You are good.–You give me a future and a hope. Thank You for always taking care of me, whether or not I see You at work. Let me trust and rest in Your unfailing love. Amen.
Re-posted from April 2009. Thanking God that our friend Mike is happy now.
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Revelation 21:3-5)
Nathan spent half his toddlerhood perched on an old chair in our living room. It was a green armchair—or, as he called it, a “geen keer”—where we sent Nathan when he was naughty. If he told Mommy no, or whacked his baby sister on the head with a toy truck, Nathan sat on the geen keer until he was ready to be kind.
Which was approximately 3.5 seconds.
“Kind now! I weady to be kind now!”
And once the punishment passed, and I no longer frowned and spoke sternly, Nathan would light up with a big smile and say, “Mommy happy now!”
When I praised him for picking up his toys, he’d point out that I was “happy now”. When Andy arrived home from work, and scooped him up for a hug, Nathan would yell, “Happy now!” And when I’d lift him from his crib after naptime, he’d hug my neck and holler, “I happy now!”
My most favorite “happy now” happened one evening just before bed. We were reading books, and Nathan brought me his picture Bible. He flipped to the end, and landed on a picture of God on heaven’s throne, surrounded by a rainbow.
Nathan ooohhed and aaahhed as I described our future home. I put the story in his terms even more, telling him that he could sit on Jesus’ lap, and have cake and soda. Maybe those things weren’t in John’s revelation, but they certainly spell heaven to a toddler.
Nathan absolutely exploded with joy. He jumped to his feet and marched around the room, pumping his little fists in the air and chanting, “Hap-py now! Hap-py now! Hap-py now!”
Revelation is a confusing book, and people much smarter than I have debated its meaning, and speculated on exactly what the end of time will be. But I think Nathan summed it up beautifully. On the day when I see Jesus—on the day when tears stop flowing and hearts stop aching, when mothers are reunited with the babies they never held, and when every doubt is instantly answered—then, in His forever-presence I will finally and completely be…happy now.
Recently I told the kids to write about Matthew 5:42…
“Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away
from the one who wants to borrow from you.”
from the one who wants to borrow from you.”
“Maybe you want to write about a time when you gave something away,” I instructed. “Or, maybe you want to make up your own pretend story. You can write whatever you want, as long as it’s about this verse.”
So, Nathan wrote a poem.
Give to he who asks of you,
Don’t turn from he who borrows from you.
If some bald lady sees you there,
And says, “Can I have some of your hair?”
Say, “Yes, of course, I have too much!”
And then cut off a big huge bunch.
Don’t turn from he who borrows from you.
If some bald lady sees you there,
And says, “Can I have some of your hair?”
Say, “Yes, of course, I have too much!”
And then cut off a big huge bunch.
That kid cracks me up.
(This post was originally published in November, 2007…but, believe me, the content is still quite current.)
For sale: three children, ages 8, 6 and 5. Cute when asleep. Asking price: real cheap. Make your best offer. Entire stock must go!
Obviously, I’m having trouble with my kids lately. Their behavior is atrocious! Things have gotten so bad that when we’re out in public, I point at them and say loudly, “Who is their mommy?!” I’ve also decided to officially change their names: Nathan, Anne and Molly are now Disobedience, Dishonesty and Disrespect.
Disobedience loses privileges with such regularity that he may never see his Game Boy again. He debates every single instruction I give before reluctantly submitting. If I tell him he can read in bed until 9:00, he questions, “Why not 9:30?” If I ask him to turn off the lights, he points out that wasn’t the one who turned them on. Absolutely everything is an argument.
Not long ago I discovered that Dishonesty has been throwing her vitamins away after breakfast each morning. (And believe me, the way we eat around here, she needs those vitamins! We’re sort of anti-vegetarians.) She has also started printing her name on various household items–tables, walls, bedposts–and then lying about it. “I don’t know WHO wrote it there!”
And Disrespect is 5 going on 15. She frequently rolls her eyes to let me know just how ridiculous I am. Yesterday she actually responded to Andy with, “Not gonna happen.” I nearly passed out. Andy assured her that, although Hannah Montana says those words to her father, she may NOT say them to hers.
Disobedience, Dishonesty and Disrespect–the three things I work hard to eliminate, and yet, the three areas in which my children excel the most. Obviously I’m failing somehow. Where have I been too lenient? What parenting tactic have I missed? I am honestly worried about the kind of adults I’m making. What if my kids grow up with no respect for authority? What if they don’t love truth? It’s enough to keep me awake at night–and it does. Often.
I asked my mom for advice, but she said she once tried to sell me, too. Me! Surely I never acted this way. But I suppose that as long as there have been kids with mommies, kids have demonstrated the 3 D’s, and mommies have felt inadequate.
Feeling inadequate can be good, though, because it reminds me how much I desperately need God. I need His wisdom, His patience, and His mercy on a minute by minute basis. My inadequacy drives me to my knees. So here I go again.
Heavenly Father-
In a properly pious prayer, I would say “I lift my children up to You,” but today, God, I don’t really have the strength to do any lifting. So let me just drop my kids at Your feet instead. Thud. There. They are Your children; they belonged to You before You gave them to me, and they will still be Yours long after I sign off at age 18. (Which is less than 13 years away! But who’s counting?)
My heart wants so much for each of them, God! I want them to be confident in who You created them to be, and to use their talents for Your glory. Nathan’s intelligence and sense of justice. Sweet Anne and her love for beauty, music and dance. And Molly, with her quick humor and little green thumb. How You can use them! Grant me Your vision for them. Help me to grow their talents, and to “weed out” whatever keeps them from knowing You better.
And oh, that they would know You! Call my children until they call on You. I pray that they would choose to follow You, and love You deeply, and love other people, too. And let them love Your word, Father, always balancing grace and truth as Jesus did. When they doubt You, be patient with their unbelief; grow their faith until it is deeply rooted. When they leave You, do not leave them; forgive them and restore them–just as You’ve done for me time and time again.
Don’t let me feel too guilt-ridden about my kids’ faults and bad behavior. Sometimes I punish myself for their bad decisions. Yes, I am responsible to point them to You, but I cannot choose obedience for them. Help me distinguish between my parental responsibility and their childish choices, so that I won’t be burdened with guilt that is not mine to bear. Remind me that these kids are Your work–I am only Your assistant in their lives–and You will be faithful to finish the job in them.
And on the days when I don’t like my kids—on the days when I feel like selling them at a discount—just…help. Help! Most of all, thank You that Your grace always covers Disobedience, Dishonesty and Disrespect.
Amen.
*The final note. Unless I find another one lying around.
A few years back, Nathan liked to hide trash in random places. He’d tuck wrappers in the couch cushions, and shove wads of paper under furniture, because apparently it was too hard to walk to the nearest trashcan. When Nathan was five, I found this note crumpled behind the bookshelf in his bedroom:
Oh, how I love that boy. I imagine that this note–this prayer, really–was written in a moment of earnest, five-year-old longing to have all the powers of the Jedi force. God! You can do anything! So fill this toy light saber with a blast of power! Please! Now!
Oh, how I’ve prayed this prayer, or at least something very similar. “You have all power, so heal this person. Stop this trial. Meet this need, or change this circumstance. Please. Now.”
But God isn’t a genie. He doesn’t always say yes. Just as Nathan wasn’t granted the powers of the force when he prayed, sometimes God says no to my requests, too. I prayed for God to heal a baby inside me, but the child died anyway. Many people on my prayer list have cancer…and that list is growing, not shrinking. God doesn’t always intervene.
It’s enough to make you quit believing. Or at least enough to make you crumple up your prayers and stick them behind the bookshelf.
Really, why believe? Sometimes He answers, of course, but often He doesn’t deliver the power. I’m reminded of the list of the faithful in Hebrews 11:
“And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength, and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies. Women received back their dead, raised to life again. Others were tortured and rescued to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated–the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.” (Hebrews 11:32-38)
Sounds great at first. By God’s power, believers “shut the mouths of lions” and even raised people from the dead. But it wasn’t so victorious for those at the bottom of the list. Sawed in two? Why didn’t God send a little power then? Please?
I don’t know why. On this side of eternity, I haven’t a clue. But I know God wants my faith. God cares more about the state of my heart than my circumstance.–More about whether or not He has my trust than if I’m healthy, comfortable, or pain-free.
And when He doesn’t “send me some power”, He has a reason. “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.” (Hebrews 11:39-40) God has better plans! And He commends everyone–even those at the bottom of the list–for their faith. And the world is not worthy of them.
A new prayer: Not, “Send me some power,” but, “Lord, let me trust in Your better plan. Let me show You my faith, please, always. Amen.”
Nathan wrote this note a few years ago, one Sunday at church:
The part of Nathan that prompts him to make index card reminders? He inherited that from me.
The part of him that wants to please God by being “good”? He gets that from me, too.
Oh, I want to please God! I want Him to be happy with all that I do, and all that I think, and all that I am. But I fall so short. I have a lack of love, and a superabundance of pride, and so much in me displeases God.
So, I try harder. I give even more effort, hoping to meet with God’s approval. Sometimes, I keep busy, just to make Him like me. “Wow, look how dedicated Amy is! She’s exhausted. Two thumbs up, Amy. You impress Me.”
But hard work and a calendar full of churchy stuff isn’t what pleases God. An act of service or area of ministry isn’t my identity or worth to Him. That isn’t what He desires. As Nathan would say, “Reminder!” He simply wants my faith.
“And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.” (Hebrews 11:6)
God, You want me to believe You. To take You at Your word, and rely on You, and know by faith that in Christ, I’m made “good enough”. You’ll reward me when I earnestly seek You and trust You. Thank You for the reminder, and thank You that my faith pleases You. May I have a big, bold faith, to please You all the more. Amen.
