Currently viewing the tag: "Transformation"

Disconnected

By On November 22, 2010 · 1 Comment · In Devotional

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

Sundays, not surprisingly, are crazy in our home. Well, they’re crazy for Andy. The rest of us just wave to him as he goes by.

A few weeks ago, while Anne was sick with a fever, Andy had an especially busy Sunday. After being at the church building for literally 13 hours, Andy rushed home to get a few things before heading to his next meeting. He didn’t have time to talk—just told us he loved us from the doorway before heading out again.

When the garage door closed behind him, I heard a little sniff coming from the direction of the couch. Anne was crying.

“Anne, are you sad?”

She nodded.

“Are you missing Daddy?”

Tears poured down her face as she wailed, “I don’t even know what he’s wearing!”

Who knew Andy’s clothes were so important? But it wasn’t really his attire that bothered her. Tender Anne felt disconnected from the person she loves most: her father. Anne was saying, in essence, “He was gone before I woke up, and I couldn’t say good morning. He’ll be gone when I go to bed, so I can’t say good night. I miss him so much…and I don’t even know what he’s wearing!”

As I write this, I’m locked in Andy’s office, away from kids and home. It’s been too long since I’ve taken a whole day to connect with my Father. To not just “log pages” on some daily Bible reading plan, but to truly hear Him speak in His Word. To converse with Him in prayer. To be still before Him, and remain in Him, and enjoy His presence.

It has been too long, Lord. Keep me connected to You! I don’t even know what You’re wearing.–Let me see You today. Amen.

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Bookshelf: Saint Patrick by Jonathan Rogers

By On March 17, 2010 · 1 Comment · In On the Bookshelf

Saint Patrick’s Day is one of my favorite holidays, and not just because of the Shamrock Shakes at McDonald’s. Although truthfully, that helps. Mostly, I love that this day celebrates a missionary. When Andy was a children’s pastor in Indiana, he held an “Everything Green” party each year. The kids dressed in green, ate green food, and won green prizes for green games. But more than that, Andy used the party as a chance to teach about the ministry of Saint Patrick and other missionaries.

I recently read a short biography about Saint Patrick–Saint Patrick by Jonathan Rogers–and learned a lot I didn’t know about the man. For instance, Patrick wasn’t actually the first bishop of Ireland. Nor was he the first person to bring Christianity to Ireland. He also didn’t write “Saint Patrick’s Breastplate,” which is so often attributed to him.

But Patrick did hear God’s call to minister to the very people who had kidnapped him. He obeyed that call, and baptized thousands of Irishmen. From the book:

“Patrick revealed, among other things, that he believed the gospel he preached. He believed that in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female, Roman nor barbarian. He believed that God can utterly transform a human heart. He believed that he could rely entirely on God’s mercy, rather than be compelled to paper over his own sins. And he believed that…Christ was the defender of the weak–including Patrick himself.”

Saint Patrick’s life leaves me with a few questions about my own. Do I obey God’s call for Amy? Do I believe the gospel I preach–enough to sacrifice position and reputation to further it?

God, thank You for missionaries like Patrick, whose stories are our examples. Let me be like him in humility and boldness and faithful obedience. Thank You that You “can utterly transform a human heart.” Transform mine, dear Lord. Amen.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

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Lessons from a Basset Hound, part 9: New

By On November 30, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

On an extra hot day last summer, the glass in our patio door shattered. First, it popped loudly, as though hit by a rock. Then, it crackled quietly as thousands of thin lines spread across the whole door.

Andy called a repairman, who said that shattering is common in glass that gets direct sunlight. He also said that he was on vacation and couldn’t fix it for two weeks. For five of us, two weeks with a broken door was just an annoyance. But for one of us–the one who walks on four legs and drools terribly–the non-working door was a puzzle. Belle could not understand.

“Ruff,” she’d say, sitting at the broken door, asking to be let out.

“Come, Belle,” we’d call from across the room, to take her through the front door instead.

“Ruff?” she’d repeat, confused.

Basset hounds, the dog books say, enjoy routine. That’s one of the reasons we chose her breed, actually, because I’m not fond of change, either. But the broken door ruined Belle’s normalcy. For two whole weeks, she was forced to do something–gasp!–new.

Aversion to change is harmless enough in basset hounds. I suppose it’s even understandable in my personality type. But a problem arises when my dislike of “new” becomes a lack of faith, or worse, a willful disobedience of what God tells me to do.

Andy and I have been in a season of change. One area of ministry ended and another began, and I must say, at times I’ve obeyed God only after pitching a royal fit about it. My kids are changing, too. Last night as I folded Nathan’s laundry, I sighed and wondered aloud, “When did we get big kids?” How dare they grow so quickly. Our church, too, is fast-approaching a new building, with new opportunities for ministry and growth. It’s exciting! And, terrifying.

But God is in the “new” business:

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26)

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

“He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’” (Revelation 21:5)

Lord, You’re leading me through a new door, and I want to follow. Thank You that what is unknown to me is nothing new for the Ancient of Days. Help me to trust, and to obey with boldness and joy. In all the changes, I rely on Your unfailing love and Your unending faithfulness. I love You, Lord. Amen.

Previous Lessons from a Basset Hound:

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Psalm 103, part 4: Character

By On November 17, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.” (Psalm 103:8)

Perception does not always equal reality.

Case in point: when I pull on a pair of old jeans. My perception says, “I’m the same size I was before I had kids.” But reality says, “Are you kidding? These won’t make it over your backside.”

Like I said, perception does not always equal reality.

It’s the same with God and His character. I may have a perception about God that simply isn’t accurate. “God is always angry.” “God is apathetic.” “God is tired of me.” But if my feelings and beliefs don’t line up with scripture, they aren’t truth.

When Moses encountered God on Mount Sinai, he got a dose of reality. He learned firsthand what God is like. God covered Moses with His hand and announced His name as He passed by:

“The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness….” (Exodus 34:6)

Let me tell you who I AM, Moses. I am tenderhearted. I give you blessings that you don’t deserve. I am patient with you. Most of all, my love is unfailing and never-ending.

What a glorious reality. Compassion, grace, patience, unfailing love….The truth of God’s character surpasses anything I could imagine. His reality is greater than my best perception.

God, show me what You’re like. Replace my false perceptions with reality. I want to remain in Your presence (Exodus 33:14-15), and build my life on Your name (Exodus 34:5-7), and reflect Your character to others (Exodus 34:29-30). Will You please reveal Yourself to me until I know You completely? Show me the glory of Your reality. Amen.

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Three Dollars Worth of God

By On October 27, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Poetry and Song

“I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm–neither hot nor cold–I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:15-16)

Last weekend, author and speaker Jackina Stark led the women of my church in a fantastic retreat. More to come on that soon, but for now I can’t stop thinking about an illustration Jackina read. It’s a poem by Wilbur Rees.

I would like to buy three dollars worth of God, please.
Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep,
but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk
or a snooze in the sunshine.
I don’t want enough of God to make me love a black man
or pick beets with a migrant.
I want ecstasy, not transformation.
I want warmth of the womb, not a new birth.
I want a pound of the Eternal in a paper sack.
I would like to buy three dollars worth of God, please.

Makes my heart cry, “Oh, Lord, explode my soul!”

More on Jackina Stark:

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Having Words

By On August 14, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

Reposted from August, 2007, in honor of the new school year. And I do plan on writing new posts again soon. Mostly because, I’m running out of old things to re-post. But for now, enjoy this one. Again.

Happy New School Year to my third grader, first grader and kindergartener! Last Sunday night (on New School Year Eve), our family had a prayer time for the upcoming year. Andy asked all of us to choose two words to describe ourselves: one word to tell a personal weakness that we need to work on, and one to tell a personal strength. Andy said that throughout the school year, he’ll remind us of our words to encourage and “grow” us. (He even typed all ten words into his phone, which means he’s serious about it.)

First of all, can I just say that I love having a husband who is this committed to his family? Thank You, God. But secondly…can I also say that I hate having words? Specifically I hate having “weakness” words that describe ME. And I really hate that I had trouble picking from among all the negative words that came to mind.

While the kids discussed their words, I agonized over mine. Where to start? Too opinionated? Too fearful? Too obsessive? A bad cook? Yes, yes, yes but I prefer to call it “organized”, and yes.

I thought about that annoying woman in Proverbs 31—the one who is held in high esteem at every Christian women’s event I’ve ever attended (and who apparently loved pink). Her children rose up and called her “blessed”, for heaven’s sake. I dare not ask what my children call me, but I gather from their muttering tones that it isn’t entirely complimentary.

Words, words, words. Which word should I choose? I thought of the angry words I’ve spoken, and the impatient ones, and the just plain dumb ones. And speaking of dumb, that reminds me…about a year ago the kids and I were driving across town in the minivan, when Anne asked, “What’s a moron, Mama?”

“Well, it means a person who isn’t very smart. But it’s not a kind word at all, and we need to never call someone that. Where on earth did you hear it?”

She hesitated. “Ummmm, you just said, ‘Go ahead, moron,’ to that red car back there.”

“I did? Oh. Well, Mommy shouldn’t have said that word.”

Words. My family waited for me to pick one. I felt like writing them all down in a giant list, closing my eyes and randomly pointing to one. I finally cheated a little by summing up several words into a full sentence. “I need to be more joyful, because sometimes I’m too afraid and sad and mad.” Diplomatic enough, I thought.

My children arose, just like the pink lady’s. But they didn’t call me blessed. They agreed. From Anne: “Yeah, because sometimes you’re crabby.” From Molly: “And you always yell at Daddy.” From Nathan: “Yeah, and you always work on your computer. Sometimes you should stop working.”

Ouch. But every word of it was true. I hate having words. And I hate that lady in Proverbs 31. What a moron.

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Hannah Montana and Humble Pie

By On August 10, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

“…Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought…. Do not be proud….Do not be conceited.” (Romans 12:3, 16)

I was choosing chicken breasts at the grocery store when a woman approached Anne, Molly and me. She pressed a business card in my palm, shook my hand hard, and asked me how old my “beautiful” daughters were. I gave their ages with a polite-enough smile, and she gushed on. “Oh, that’s exactly what we need! And just look at her red hair! They really do have the look we want.”

She was a talent agent, and it just so happened that her agency was holding a free screening that very weekend. My girls, she said, were exactly the right age and had the right appearance for commercials, or even a show like Hannah Montana.

(At the words “Hannah Montana”, Anne and Molly grabbed one another’s hands and said “Eeee!” in that high-pitched squeal that only little girls can make.)

I thanked the woman and pushed my shopping cart down the aisle. I had no intention of taking the girls to a talent agency. After all, I’ve read what happens to child actors. And frankly, I’d stink as a stage mom.

But I must admit, I shopped on with an air of smugness. I bagged up bananas while silently patting myself on the back. My girls wouldn’t be on TV, no…but they could be. The right age, the right look, the red hair. Beautiful. Yep, my girls. And Hannah Montana. And mostly, my girls.

And then it happened. I wheeled my cart toward the checkout, and there she was again. That talent agent who adored my daughters. Only now, she was talking with another mother—the mother of a boy who was four or five years older than Anne and Molly, and who frankly looked nothing like them. His hair was brown. Plain old, boring brown hair—not red. Not beautiful.

I passed by in time to hear the talent agent excitedly tell the mother what I thought had been a message for just me: “He really does have the look we want.”

I don’t remember putting humble pie on my grocery list, but I sure got a slice anyway.

Obviously, every kid is beautiful to his or her mama. That’s how it should be. But my arrogance—my smugness and my vain ambition and my superior attitude…ugh. I couldn’t have looked less like the humble Christ than I did in that instant.

A prayer from a pseudo-stage mom:
God, I confess that I think more highly of myself than I ought. (And also, more frequently.) Will You help me to think correctly about myself and my kids and my ambitions? Transform my mind so that I want what You want.—Your glory, not mine. Your name, not mine. Remind me of grace. Keep it always fresh on my heart so I never forget who I really am in You. Thank You that, because of Jesus, I “really do” have the look You want. I love You, God. Amen.

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Concealer

By On July 29, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

Andy and Nathan are at camp this week, so the girls and I are cramming everything girly into seven days. On the first evening, we put on makeup. Monday night, we braided hair. Yesterday we went to the mall, and last night we did our nails.

And tonight I’ll be rocking in a fetal position, reminding the Lord that my non-girly self is completely inadequate as a mother of daughters.

During Sunday’s makeup fun, I described each cosmetic and its job as we put it on.

“This is eyeliner. It makes our eyes look bigger.”

“Why do we want big eyes, Mom?”

(As it turns out, makeup sounds rather pointless when explained.)

With my concealer, I said that “conceal” means “hide”. “We use this to hide the yucky spots on our faces.”

Anne looked thoughtful. “So…do Molly and I need it then? Because we don’t have any spots on our faces. But YOU need it, dontcha?”

(Hush, honey. Mommy needs to rock a bit.)

Later, I wondered again about the purpose of makeup. Really, it’s all about pretending and concealing, isn’t it? I try to make my skin look as flawless as my daughters’. Ultimately, I hide my true appearance.

I can also hide behind “makeup” in a spiritual sense. I use a deceitful, hypocritical concealer—and apply it liberally!—to hide the true condition of my heart. It’s phony, it’s sinful, and it’s exhausting. Solomon and his father, David, talked about this kind of concealer:

“He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.” (Proverbs 28:13)

“Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place….Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:6, 10)

God, I’m not fooling anybody—least of all, You. You see the sins I conceal. You know the “face” beneath the makeup. Wash my heart, Lord. Bring me out of hiding into Your mercy, and keep me ever clean before You. Amen.

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Razors, Hoverounds, and Prayers

By On July 15, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

First in line at a stoplight, Andy and I watched as an elderly man crossed the street in front of us. He couldn’t have been any younger than 80, but to our surprise, this gentleman coasted from corner to corner…on a Razor scooter! A two-wheeled, red and silver Razor scooter, just like the one my 9-year-old son rides around our neighborhood.

When the man reached the other side of the intersection and rolled on down the sidewalk, Andy remarked, “Well, you don’t see that every day.”

And then, I had a funny thought. What if—this is entirely in my imagination, of course—but what if that man had told his family that he needed a scooter to get around? What if he meant, as most 80-year-olds would, a motorized riding scooter? And what if his well-meaning family misunderstood, and bought the wrong kind?

Poor man. Ask for a Hoveround, and get a Razor.

“Thanks, but that’s not exactly what I meant. Maybe I should’ve been more specific.”

Silly imagination aside, I sometimes feel the same way about my prayer life. I ask God for one thing, but seem to get another. “God, we need more money!” So the van breaks down, and He gives me the chance to trust Him. I pray, “Make me like You, Lord,” meaning, of course, that I want God to change my heart instantly and painlessly. Instead, He begins a transforming process in me. He allows situations or friendships to stretch me, so I’ll have an opportunity to develop His love and grace and kindness.

Ask for a Hoveround, and get a Razor.—Ask for comfort and ease, and get a chance to trust and grow. Frankly, God, that’s not exactly what I meant. Maybe I should’ve been more specific. But then again, You know best. You meet all my needs according to Your glorious riches in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19). You give me good gifts. (Matthew 6:11) Help me to trust that You are wise and good, and thank You for giving me what I need instead of what I want. Let me want what You want. Amen.

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Throne Room

By On July 10, 2009 · Leave a Comment · In Devotional

This post first appeared here, on Ungrind‘s blog, Fresh Brew.

Embarrassing confession: sometimes I read my Bible…in the bathroom. Not while I’m going to the bathroom, mind you. But since the bathroom door locks, and since the noisy exhaust fan can drown out most of the children’s chatter, well, a porcelain stool is sometimes the best this mom can manage.

When the kids were younger, and even less likely to “give Mommy some quiet time,” I met God in that throne room quite regularly. Once, after a particularly kid-crazy afternoon, I locked myself in the bathroom, sat cross-legged on the linoleum floor, and opened my Bible.

Knock, knock went a little fist on the door. I ignored it.

“Doin’, Mommy?” came my toddler son’s voice.

“Mommy’s reading, honey. You go watch the show while Mommy reads.”

The little feet padded off and I read on, until two chubby fingers wiggled under the door.

“I pay you some music, Mommy!” And with that, a toy kuzoo appeared where the fingers had been, and my son, laying in the hall outside, began to blow. Loudly.

Isn’t that how most mommy getaways go? And yet, even though a young mom’s “quiet time” is infrequent and interrupted, it’s still important. Too important not to take. After all, “You cannot impart what you do not possess.” I can’t give away what I don’t have, which means I must stay in constant contact with the Source of life. I can’t impart faith to my children if I don’t have my own relationship with God. At church, I can’t teach what I haven’t learned. I can’t speak kind words to my husband unless I let God soften my heart through prayer and His word.

What can I offer, if I don’t spend time alone with my Savior? And so, I lock myself in the bathroom, and ignore my sweet children (and their kazoos) for just a bit, so that I can come into the transformative presence of God…in the bathroom.

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