Shauna Letellier's Blog, page 8

Unlikely Reasons for Gratitude: Change

In 1987 on their debut album, the group Exposé had a song called “Seasons Change.” It was a pop culture lament over lost love and time. Thirty years later that song still occasionally gets stuck in my head.

“Change” gets a bad rap, especially in the song. But recently I’ve been really thankful for change. For instance, we’re done with elementary school. We have three–almost 4–drivers in the family. Everyone sleeps. It’s a world away from where I was 12 years ago.

In the fall of 2005 I was tending to ear infections, fevers, snotty noses and all the tell-tale signs of teething. I’d like to send that zombie-mom a letter, although I’m not sure she would have believed a word of it.

Writing letters to your former self seems a bit like an internet fad. But it wouldn’t be the first fad I’ve been on board with. When Exposé was singing “Seasons change…” I was rolling my jeans, scrunching my socks, and arriving at school with a force field of Aqua Net hovering ’round my bangs.

Clearly, I’m not above fads. So in light of changing seasons, I’ve written a letter to my 30 year-old-self. (Or to any young, struggling mamma.)

 

Hey there 30-year-old Mamma. It’s your 42 year-old self.

I know you’re shocked you’ve lived this long because right now, you feel like you’re about to die. Death by toddler. Death by diaper. Death by sleep deprivation. I’m not going to tell you this doesn’t stink, because 12 years later, I’m still a little traumatized by three boys in three years. It’s rough. Don’t beat yourself up.

You’re 30 years old, and right now you’re berating yourself for not having your stuff together. You’re trying to psyche yourself up by saying “Millions of mothers around the world for millennia have raised 3 kids and more!” That’s true, but you falsely believe that “millions of mothers” did it all, did it better, and did it without tears. But they didn’t. It’s possible God keeps the oceans full by gathering the tears of moms throughout history.

In a few years, the worn-out, worried moms like you are going to discover something called a “blog”–it involves the “internet thing” that ties up the phone line–and moms all over the world are going to discover that no one is mothering without tears…and some yelling. In fact, they’re going to start sharing tips and candid stories that will make the sad-tears and yelling less frequent. Some of them are even going to become friends without ever meeting in person. It sounds creepy, but you’ll get used to it.

I know you saw every hour of the night last night as the the boys took turns waking up all night long. You’re not the world’s worst mom. You’re just tired. Taking care of little people ages 0, 1 and 2 is tiring.

Here’s something that’s going to blow your mind. In less than a year, your oldest is going to learn how to turn on the VCR by himself. So when he wakes up his little brother at 5:03, they can watch Clifford until 5:45 and you can “sleep in.” He’s a smart kid, so just show him where the “eject” button is, and you’re golden until all the tapes need to be rewound.

I know you’re shedding happy tears about that. Brace yourself, there’s more good news ahead. In less than 10 years none of them will even want to get out of bed!!

And cut yourself some slack on the baby weight. Do not even try to start that running program you printed out. You’re too tired, and it will only make you angry and irritable when you can’t get it done. Shoot for sane, not skinny.

You can save yourself some much-needed cash by not buying the Spanish Barney video. They only word the boys will remember is “elefante” which won’t be very useful on the plains of the Midwest. Besides, they’ll be taking Spanish in 8th grade and will learn actual sentences. So check off “bi-lingual exposure” from your parenting to-do list.

Speaking of videos, you’re all nerved up about the fact that they’re watching TV for hours while you brown burger, load the dishwasher, and disinfect door knobs. I know you’ve asked the doctor if their (your) addiction to TV will cause seizures. She was right. It doesn’t. You’re starting to wonder, though, if screen time makes them act up more. Follow your instinct there, because it does. They have energy to burn, so use the cash you saved by not buying Spanish Barney and save up for an indoor trampoline.

They’ll always love screens, but someday they’ll create a drawings, motorized boats, and learn to solve a Rubik’s cube from the screens. Monitor, but relax a little. Their brains aren’t rotting…much.

You’re wondering if they are getting anything at all out of going to church and your night time Bible story books. To be honest, they won’t remember many specifics. But don’t be discouraged. Keep doing it. You’re leaving an invisible fingerprint on their hearts. They won’t remember the exact words, but they’ll know you loved Jesus.

In 12 years, you’ll roll out of bed at 6:15 and feel relatively rested. You’ll hear clattering in the kitchen and find the boys getting their own breakfast. Everyone will dress themselves, pack their own backpacks and leave for school without you. Sit down for this . . . your oldest will drive them to school.

And you know what you’re going to feel?

Thankful.

Some people are going to tell you “You’ll miss this ‘little’ stage” and in a way you will.  Pictures of chubby-cheeked smiles and pudgy legs bulging out of diapers will make you cry because you’ll remember the war between sweetness and stress. But when they pull out of the driveway and you sit in your dark, quiet, kind of picked-up house with coffee and your Bible, you’re going to feel exceedingly thankful.

I’m not saying it’s a cakewalk, but the rugged, sleep-deprived, stressful years your’re smack-dab in the middle of are the foundation for your future gratitude. When you get a few years of distance between now and later you’ll be so grateful because you’ll see how God walked with you–even carried you–through the rugged years.

When funds are low and tempers are hot and the only thing getting you to church is the promise of a church nursery worker, God is carrying you. When you roll the van, and bawl your eyes out in the dentist’s chair, and get dismissed from jury duty, He is with you.

And when you remember it all, you won’t even feel mad at him. You’ll just feel grateful for a tender Savior who promised his constant presence, and has faithfully delivered.

Hang in there, Mamma. He’s holding on to you.

Sincerely,

Prayer: What difference does it make?

Every morning, for nine days in a row, I listened.

My eyes were supposed to be closed, but instead I watched a few left over Wheaties swell and sink in my cereal bowl.

In the summer before my freshman year I stayed with my grandparents while they were building a house. Since they were handy, hardworking, and adventurous, they lived in their fifth-wheel camper on the building site during construction.

During the day we drove nails, raised walls, and framed up a deck. And by “we” I mean grandpa. I might have handed him a tool, or pulled a bent nail, but I was more directly involved with our evening actives: driving the golf cart, eating ice cream, and swatting mosquitoes.

Every morning we squeezed around their tiny laminate table. We had sweet rolls and cereal, and if Grandpa was in charge of breakfast we had donuts. But it wasn’t the high calorie start to the day that stands out.

Every day, with crumbs on the table, dishes to wash, and a house to build, Grandma and Grandpa stayed at the table and prayed. Since I was company and family, I stayed too.

If the sun beat through those crank-out windows promising perfect weather for work, they stayed and prayed. If rain tapped on the skylight, they prayed. When a breeze rattled the metal rings of the scratchy camper curtains, they prayed.

It wasn’t fancy or magical. I don’t even remember their exact words, but they prayed for each of their children, their spouses, and every one of their grandchildren, from the oldest to youngest, by name. Every day.

I sat with my head bowed, batting away a fly from my soggy cereal and wondering if such regular and systematic prayers made a difference. Philip Yancey titled one of his books, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference?[image error] It was the same question I asked that summer in the camper. When God so often does not do what we expect, when he does not perform to our demand, when he clearly answers some prayers with “no” or “not now,” I still ask the question.

Does it make any difference?

It was clear, Grandma and Grandpa believed it did. I suspect those nine mornings were a snapshot of what 68 years of mornings looked like. In 68 years of marriage, their prayers did not spare their immediate and extended family the heartache of death and disease, but they didn’t stop praying.

Does it make any difference? If we’re honest, many of us have answered, ‘No.’ Maybe not in words, but by our actions, or possibly our inaction. Prayerlessness betrays our belief about its effect. But how can we make such declarations, either with words or actions? This side of eternity is too soon to tell.

Dr. Peter Kreeft, author and tenured philosophy professor at Boston College made this observation:

I strongly suspect that if we saw all the difference even the tiniest of our prayers to God make, and all the people those little prayers were destined to affect, and all the consequences of those effects down through the centuries, we would be so paralyzed with awe at the power of prayer that we would be unable to get up off our knees for the rest of our lives.*

And that’s what Grandpa and Grandma believed. Not because Dr.  Kreeft said it, but because they read it in their Bible—the very Word of the God they petitioned.

pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. (Ephesians 6:18)

I suspect they knew what I had not yet learned: prayer wasn’t given to us as a means to control desired outcomes, but as an avenue for conversation with a loving Savior who is present no matter the outcome.

We pray, not to get what we want, but because we get to know our Savior who provides what we need.

I could tell you about my grandpa’s “donut attacks,” as my brother called them, where he’d make an early and unexpected 13 mile trip to the donut shop because he loved donuts and knew we did too. I could tell you how he played the piano by ear to accompany his impromptu stories, where we were the little heroes who rescued a bird, a bunny, or a brother. I could tell you how he drove the big yellow school bus to pick up neighborhood kids for Sunday School.

I was influenced by all of it.

But a nine-day snapshot of what it meant to pray in the spirit on all occasions—as in, every regular day—is what stands out.

Did their prayers make a difference?

They made a difference for me.

And prayer made a difference for Grandpa too. Because on July 31, when he stepped into Heaven, his Savior was not a stranger. He’d been confiding in and listening to Jesus for the better part of a century, and it made a difference for all of us.

Do your prayers make a difference? Undoubtedly. But calculating the effect is better left to God on the other side of eternity. Keep praying, Friend. It makes a difference.

Feeling a bit ragged? Sign up via email, and I’ll send you “A Prayer for Ragged Souls.”

 

Do your prayers make a difference? Undoubtedly. #RemarkableFaith http://wp.me/p7aRO3-2s2
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* Quote by Dr. Peter Kreeft

When the Gospel became Good News…to me

Have you ever thought that following Christ means you have to work really hard to earn your keep? The good news is that the gospel is the opposite of earning your keep!

Today I’m writing over at (in)courage and sharing about When the Gospel became Good News! (

(In)courage is great about sending daily encouragement.  You can sign up here to receive daily notes from (in)courage sent right to your inbox!

It’s not our work that earns the abundance of God’s grace. http://www.incourage.me/?p=186962
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Hard and holy service is not a prerequisite for receiving God’s grace.…
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When we realize God's grace doesn’t depend on our work, the gospel becomes extremely good news.…
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Celebrate! Remarkable Faith

Throw the confetti, blow the kazoos! Today’s the big day!
A Book is Born.

The metaphor of childbirth has repeatedly come to mind throughout the last five years. That’s right. FIVE years. Here’s a little peek at baby’s book’s progression.

The Ultrasound:

This is the book on day-one of it’s development. Ultrasounds are always a little blurry. I didn’t know exactly what the book would look like or how it would grow, but here is the blurry, un-colorful, first picture.

And now you see the necessity of typing rather than handwriting

Sneak Peek: Finding Faith + a Bonus for You!

With the kind permission of my publisher, FaithWords, here is an excerpt from the introduction to Remarkable Faith: When Jesus Marveled at the Faith of Unremarkable People.[image error] If it whets your appetite for the rest of the book, be sure to see the pre-order bonus information at the end of this post.

From the introduction….

Finding Faith

Maybe you’ve resolved, again, to study your Bible more, serve at your church, or be a better wife, mom, husband, father, employee, or Christian. But the daily montage of your life accuses you of weak faith. Your life bears no evidence of ark- building, sea- crossing acts of faith. After a long day, week, or season you find yourself collapsed in your chair, shaking your head. Maybe you’ve just tucked your sweethearts into bed. With enthusiasm you’ve read to them of a giant- slaying boy with great faith in God. Perhaps you flipped through the rest of the children’s Bible, looking for a character with whom you can identify.

Or, maybe you’ve just stepped off the treadmill after your morning exercise, and driving to the same places, dealing with the same people, and doing it all again makes you feel like you’re still on it. One foot in front of the other, the belt whirrs round the axles, day after day. Something about your daily life doesn’t seem congruent with faith that pleases God.

But you are wrong.

When we look for examples of great faith in the gospels, we think of the disciples. They sat with rapt attention on the side of a mountain listening to Jesus teach with authority about a higher standard of righteousness. When he told them not to worry about where clothes and food would come from, he referred to these disciples who had left jobs, businesses, and family to follow him as “you of little faith” (Matthew 6:30).

We might think of Peter, who took a leap of faith to walk on water to Jesus. But when Peter lost sight of who Jesus was and focused on the raging storm around him, he began to doubt and drown. Then Jesus said, to the only disciple with the courage to leap, “You of little faith . . . , why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31).

We might think of the disciples going through the towns of Galilee following in Jesus’ footsteps and attempting to do as he had done. At the foot of a mountain, nine of them were attempting to free a little boy from a torturous demon. They could not. When Jesus arrived, what did he have to say to his disciples? “Thank you for attempting to do my work in my absence”? No. Instead, he scolded their misplaced faith: “You unbelieving and perverse generation, how long shall I stay with you?” Jesus drove out the demon and freed the boy. Embarrassed and confounded, the disciples asked, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?” He said to them, “Because you have so little faith” (see Matthew 17: 14– 20).

If Jesus found so little faith with his disciples, whom he chose, did he find faith at all?

Yes, he did.

Sprinkled throughout the gospels are the stories of eight nameless examples of faith. We identify them not by their names, but by their afflictions. Their lives were marked by desperation, pain, fatigue, hopelessness, disability, poverty, loneliness, and sin.

Each of them sought Jesus in unabashed desperation. With nothing to offer and nothing to lose, they went to great lengths to get to him. Some crawled through the dust. Some interrupted important gatherings. Others were relegated to roadsides and caves so they screamed for his help as he passed by.

What did Jesus notice about them? Their affliction? Their social impropriety? Perhaps. But the thing he remarked about, even marveled at, was their faith. Yes, Jesus found faith. Remarkable faith. But in the most unremarkable people.

These are their stories.

 

Want to read more?  Remarkable Faith[image error] releases NEXT WEEK!!

Pre-order your copy and receive these gifts!

Here’s how…

1. Pre-order Remarkable Faith by July 10 (online or local bookstore)

2. Return here and click the “Claim Your Pre-Order Gifts” (orange button~>)

3. Enter your information into the form.

4. Look for an email to confirm your subscription to receive email from me.

5. Click “confirm” and voila! Links to your pre-order gifts!

The Chapter That Wasn’t

Some writers say, “ I always dreamed of writing a book.” But not me. I was always dreaming up ways to get out of writing. My go-to methods were double-spacing, large font, and recycling reports for multiple classes.

Before I went to college I pleaded with four close friends, “Please pray that I will be able to write papers and essays. I hate writing!” Give me rote memorization or multiple choice any day!

So it was as much a surprise to me as to anyone that one day I found myself typing at my computer for two hours.

For a month I had been absolutely taken with a story in the gospel of Luke. It was the story of Peter’s great catch of fish. I’d heard the story many times before, but this time, something hooked me. {Click here to hear a recent podcast where I share the story with Emily Allen of Kindred Mom}

I saw in Peter’s boat an illustration of the gospel. Peter was wowed (and frightened!) by God’s grace and power, and it changed him.



So, while my kiddos napped, I sat down at the computer and retold that story to myself–in writing of all things! I’ve never showed that piece to anyone. I’ve written about it. I’ve referred to it in speaking engagements, but I’ve never published it. Today, however, it’s on the world wide web for two reasons.

1.) To keep me humble. It’s not a spectacular piece of writing. It’s mostly unedited. Beginnings are small and sometimes sloppy because we can’t always see where we’re going. But I’m so thankful I saved the imperfect chapter that didn’t make it into the book. It was a milestone or perhaps a starting point. I’m glad I kept it as a reminder.

2) To remind us that when Christ is our aim and our reward, nothing is wasted. I’ve included it here for you—mostly unedited—to give you a glimpse of how it began.

Zoom in on the Lake of Galilee and there you see Peter, Andrew and a host of others mending and washing their nets–cleaning up and repairing after a long night of unfruitful work. They were getting ready to do it all again the next night.

Near the water’s edge, Peter may have noticed Jesus with a crowd of people threatening to either crush him or push him in the water. And just down the shore with his sandals becoming increasingly wet, Jesus sees a solution in Peter’s boat. Jesus got in and asked him to put it in the water a bit.

Peter took his work with him, and mended and washed his nets in the boat while Jesus taught the crowds from the boat. With no microphone, or even a megaphone, the crowd may have had to strain to hear. But Peter certainly didn’t have to. Jesus was just in the bow and the only competing sounds were the lapping of the water against the boat, the occasional gull overhead, and the far off shop-talk of other fishermen.

When Jesus finished teaching, Peter and Andrew likely thought they were finished too. But instead of asking them to return to shore and thanking them politely, Jesus asked him to “put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” It’s interesting that Jesus tells him he’s going to catch something, when it’s the wrong time of day for catching fish, and as a man, Jesus has no experience in fishing.

Peter protests, but then reluctantly obeys. And when Peter and Andrew had obeyed, they got a visual object lesson of the riches of God’s grace which he lavishes on his people: a net so full of what they were working for that they could not contain it. All their striving to provide for themselves and their families, all their disappointment with being “skunked,” was forgotten as the task at hand became urgent!

It was such a catch that the nets which had just been fixed were again broken!! And now the panic of losing fish through the holes and the rush to get them in the boat so as not to lose one! Finally a call to James and John for help in trying to contain the abundance!! Just when the unimaginable situation seems under control they realize their boats cannot withstand the weight of the catch and are about to sink.

I wonder what Jesus was doing all this time. Was he snickering like a parent snickers when he sees his child scrambling to grab up all the loose candy at a parade? Was he beaming like a parent who sees the joy on the face of his child who has just received an eagerly anticipated gift? Was he helping with the nets and fish in an “untrained” way that allowed Peter to think he needed to instruct Jesus on how to handle the catch? Or was he just sitting there in the bow waiting for Peter to realize the significance of the events of the day?

And finally it all comes together in Peter’s mind…the sermon he’d just heard, the recent whisperings of the arrival of the Messiah—the Son of God—whom the winds and the waves, and reluctant fishermen and apparently the fish, obey. Peter gets a glimpse of Holy Power and falls to his knees in fear on top of a pile of slimy, flapping fish, with fins poking his knees. He doesn’t say ‘thanks’ or ‘wow.’ He admits, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!”

But Jesus compassionately responds with reassuring grace for the repentant, “Do not be afraid.”

Like carbonation in a shaken soda can, affection, awe, and gratitude, are about to burst out of Peter! And I just wonder if it wasn’t all that difficult for Peter to leave his torn (again) nets, his half sunken boat, and the windfall of a lifetime on the shore in order to follow Jesus.

Oh Lord, allow me to see your holiness so I accurately acknowledge my sinfulness. Please afford me the opportunity to try and contain the forceful outpouring of your grace and find myself wholly unable so that I may unreservedly follow you anywhere with only unspeakable love, devotion, gratitude and awe bursting from my heart.

When I had finished typing I thought, “Wow, that felt like worship.” And I knew I wanted to do it again and again–maybe even fill a whole….book?

Pre-Order & Receive these Gifts!

1. Pre-order Remarkable Faith by July 10 (online or local bookstore)

2. Return here and click the “Claim Your Pre-Order Gifts” button. ~>

3. Enter your information into the form.

4. Look for an email to confirm subscription.

5. Click confirm and voila! Links to your pre-order gifts!

Glorious Limitations

A series failures taunted me as I walked from the courthouse to my car. I’d been dismissed from jury duty. Not even a calculating attorney with a frivolous lawsuit had any use for me.

I even failed to get selected for jury duty! I scolded myself.

Even though jury duty wasn’t exactly voluntary, to me it was more evidence that whenever I tried something new, I failed.

In my estimation, I was surrounded by evidence of continual failure. A marriage that didn’t match the fairy tales, children who didn’t adore me—except when I wanted to drop them off at the church nursery. Work that seemed to mount up as soon as the stomach flu ripped through the house. I felt I was failing as a wife, mom, foster mom, and employee, and I couldn’t get anything right.

When the Lord first gave me the idea about writing a book, I worried about failing at that too. I didn’t want to try and fail…again. I called my dear friend hoping she would either talk me out of it or pump me with confidence.

“I just don’t think I can take another failure.” I cried over the phone. I recounted my perceived failures and confessed that I thought my faith was a disappointment to God. “I can’t seem to do anything well. I’m too needy, too dependent, too limited.”

That’s where she stopped me with this jaw dropping truth “God is not limited by your limitations.”

God is not limited by your limitations. #RemarkableFaith
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Since then, I’ve seen that truth demonstrated in the gospels, in my own life, and in the lives of others.

The gospels are filled with stories of men and women with real and perceived failures.

A woman bowed at the feet of Jesus, undignified and bawling her eyes out. She was so choked up she failed to explain what she was doing there.

Another woman, limited by a dozen years of incurable anemia, trailed Jesus in a crowd hoping to grab his cloak and get well.

But God is not limited by our limitations whether it be an inability to communicate or an incurable condition.

Remarkable faith is present when we trust Christ to work on our behalf…in spite of our limitations.

Are your limitations an obstacle for God? Hardly.

Do you feel your circumstances limit your Savior? Are you home-bound? Stuck in a draining job or ministry? Nearly insane from caring for difficult people…maybe even your own children?

Your dependence on Christ, whatever your limitation, is evidence of your faith. No matter what a human jury says! God is the final judge and he has selected you, not for jury duty but for adoption into his family! He knows your limitations. And rather than thwarting his plan, your limitations, perceived or real failures and every other weakness, are opportunities for the glories of Jesus to shine. God is not limited by your limitations because His power is made perfect in your weakness.

My first book, Remarkable Faith: When Jesus Marveled at the Faith of Unremarkable People[image error] releases July 11.

Instructions:

1. Pre-order Remarkable Faith by July 10 (online or local bookstore)

2. Return here and click the “Claim Your Pre-Order Gifts” button. ~>

3. Enter your information into the form.

4. Look for an email to confirm subscription.

5. Click confirm and voila! Links to your pre-order gifts!

Thank you and enjoy!

When a Father Made Me Cry at the Pool

They say you remember trauma more acutely than pleasure. If the memories of my first high dive experience are any indication, it’s true.

My boys did not inherit my high dive angst.

I was in fourth grade. No one made me do it, but it looked fun. Something akin to flying. So, in my least favorite faded-red swimsuit, I leapt to my near-death.

A nanosecond after my limbs smacked the water, my head throbbed with pressure of chlorine water forced up my sinuses. I remember “rearranging” my swimsuit while I was still ten leagues under.

When I finally surfaced, I clung to the concrete ledge gasping, coughing, and crying.

Last summer I cried at the pool again. But this time it wasn’t me jumping off the high dive.

On that day, a little boy stood wide-eyed and dripping near the high diving board. He smiled as he watched the big kids twirl and flip, head first, feet first, laid out, and curled up. Almost as if they’d achieved flight!

His dad had come straight from work to the pool to watch a few minutes of swimming lessons. Scurrying between the board and his dad the boy seemed to be asking, Should I do it? Should I do something brave and scary?

His dad encouraged him. “Yeah! Try it.” The boy did the shivering shuffle over to the ladder, climbed up two steps, stopped, and went back to his dad. His dad knelt down and smiled, “You don’t have to,” he reassured him, “but if you want to try, I’m here to watch you.”

Finally, he climbed to the top of the high dive. With knees knocking from cold and fright, he bobbed at the end of the board.

Far below friends and lifeguards hollered advice: Just go! Plug your nose! Hurry up! It’s fun! I’ll buy you ice cream if you do it! It doesn’t hurt! (Whatever!)

His dad encouraged him. “You can do it.” But there was no bribery or threats about ice cream. He just waited.

Finally, bolstered by his father’s presence, he barely stepped off the edge and fell to the water. No flips. No twists. Just a brave little boy, smacking the water. He came up sputtering. Pulling at cockeyed goggles. Dog paddling to the ladder. Suppressing sobs.

His dad squatted by the ladder and lifted him out. Pressing his wet head into his father’s dry shirt, the boy let the sobs go.

And that was when I cried.

To me, it was a picture of God’s dealing with me.

How many times has God invited me to jump into fun, brave, and scary adventures: a college transfer, a move, foster care, a new job. The courageous people who’ve already jumped seem like they’re having so much fun! Or doing such meaningful work, or learning such important things.

With God’s kind permission I dip my toes in the water and do a little research. It’s cold, but not icy.

This location is good, and so is that one.

My work is meaningful, and I could also do that job.

Parenthood is important, and so is foster care.

Ministry is fruitful here, and also over there.

Everyone poolside is calling out advice, warning, or impatience. Hurry up and do it already! You’ll do great. That will be hard. Are you crazy?

So I pray. Lord? Should I, or shouldn’t I?

And my loving Father answers, “You can, but you don’t have to. If you do, I will be with you. If you don’t, I still love you, and I will be with you always. Either way, My grace is sufficient for you.”

Sometimes I’ve climbed back down the ladder and wondered what could have been. What would that mission trip, that move, or that job have been like?

On rare occasions, I’ve jumped and freestyled my way to the other side of the pool.

But most times I’ve come up sputtering wondering what in the world the Lord was thinking by letting me jump.

Then I remember that poolside father. The one who reminded me of my Father God.

He’s helping His scared and gasping child out of the water.

Soggy and sobbing, I fall into his arms. It felt like failure. The move was rough. The job required more skill. Foster care was demanding.

But my tears tell me I did something hard. My water-slapped skin tells me I still have sensation. My draining sinuses tell me I was all the way in.

Whether my faith looks “remarkable” to others or not…

Whether my faith feels remarkable to me or not…

I drape my soggy self around Him, and I realize My Father loves me whether I jump or not.

My first book, Remarkable Faith: When Jesus Marveled at the Faith of Unremarkable People[image error] releases July 11.

Instructions:

1. Pre-order Remarkable Faith by July 10 (online or local bookstore)

2. Return here and click the “Claim Your Pre-Order Gifts” button. ~>

3. Enter your information into the form.

4. Look for an email to confirm subscription.

5. Click confirm and voila! Links to your pre-order gifts!

Thank you and enjoy!

 

To Need Him a Lot

It didn’t make sense.

I’d begun reading to the kids from Sally Lloyd-Jones’ Jesus Storybook Bible. We’d read about David and Daniel, Moses and Joshua. They were the examples, the leaders, and the heroes of the faith.

I could not identify.

I couldn’t think of any Bible stories of women crying in a pile of dirty laundry like I was. I doubted God had anything favorable to say to a mom so worn out by her own children that she could hardly believe he was still paying attention. And if he was, surely he was disappointed with a person whose only discernible service was wiping up spills.

One night we read the story of Jesus choosing his disciples.

“Who would make good helpers, do you think?” Sally Lloyd-Jones asked. “Clever ones? Rich ones? Strong, important ones? Some people might think so, but I’m sure by now you don’t need me to tell you they’d be wrong. Because the people God uses don’t have to know a lot of things, or have a lot of things—they just have to need him a lot.”

I’d had trouble identifying with the so-called Bible heroes—the giant-slayers and ark-builders. But here I saw myself –“they just have to need him a lot.”

I had nothing fantastic to show God. My desperate prayers, “God, help me!” and honest questions “Don’t you see how I’m failing here?” were proof that I needed him a lot.

But I saw something else too.

As I read my own grown-up Bible, I discovered a woman in Mark 5 who’d likely been crying in a pile of dirty laundry for more than a decade. I found a mom in Matthew 15 so worn out by her daughter that she panicked. And I saw a woman in Luke 7 whose worship was wiping up what she’d spilled.

Was Jesus disappointed with them? No. Theirs was faith that approached Jesus with nothing to show, nothing to prove, and nothing to lose. He commended their faith.

Remarkable Faith[image error] isn’t always visible, and it rarely feels remarkable. In fact, remarkable faith isn’t even measured by what you achieve for God but by what you’ve received from Him. We can be assured that even when no one is applauding or appreciating, Jesus notices remarkable faith. Though it doesn’t feel remarkable, depending on Jesus because we “need him a lot” is the very essence of faith.

When no one is applauding or appreciating, Jesus notices #Remarkablefaith
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When Remarkable Faith Feels Less than Remarkable

Perusing a list of Christian book titles ought to be encouraging, inspiring, and helpful. Christ-following authors have urged us to demonstrate “Crazy Love,” implored us, “Don’t Waste Your Life,” and challenged us to live in a way that is “Radical,” and to “Do Hard Things.” We Christians know we ought to be living a life of demonstrated faith, and we truly want to live in a way that makes a difference.

But as we read books or even just their titles, we may mistakenly imagine the hard, radical, crazy, life lived for Christ must also be exotic–a sanctified kind of exotic anyway. For those of us sitting in the carpool line, browning hamburger, cranking out monthly reports, paying bills, wiping counters or noses, our faith hardly feels exotic or remarkable.

The demands of family and work prevent many from considering an overseas mission trip, caring for orphaned children or tackling what we imagine to be “ark-building,” “sea-crossing” acts of faith of the Old Testament variety. We’re exhausted, and sometimes riddled with regret for what we cannot do and have not done.

It’s a little ironic–and maybe proof of God’s sense of humor–that a book titled “Remarkable Faith” was born out of a time when my faith and relationship with Jesus felt anything but remarkable.

I’d been in an intense season of what I’d call “front-lines ministry”–parenting our three boys and two sweet little girls who’d been entrusted to us through the ministry of foster care. It was humbling and hard trying to parent well, and I felt I should be doing a much better job.

I mean, for crying out loud–I wasn’t homeschooling. I wasn’t a single parent. Each of our five kiddos had unique and individual needs, but none that were medically or developmentally urgent. I wasn’t helping refugees overseas. I wasn’t building orphanages.

Many of my friends were doing much harder things. Parenting medically fragile children, parenting large families, building orphanages in hurricane-torn Haiti, conducting mission trips, leading local ministries,–helping lots of people all over the world!

I was barely making it to church. And it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the free childcare provided by the nursery and Sunday school teachers may have been my main reason for attending church. “Everyone else” was performing remarkable acts of faith and ministry, and I could barely fix supper.

I began to wonder…

If my faith was pleasing to God, wouldn’t this come easier?

My “acts of faith” are nothing compared to so-and-so. Maybe my faith is second-rate?

If I’m feeling so desperate all the time, maybe I don’t have faith.

“Without faith it is impossible to please God,” I read in Hebrews. I was so disappointed with myself, and I was certain God was too. After all, followers of Jesus are supposed to be examples. Leaders. Bible heroes!

Aren’t they?

I picked up my Bible to find out, and discovered something remarkable.

When Jesus spoke with his chosen disciples about their faith, he said they were faithless and twisted (see Matthew 17:17, NIV). More than once he exclaimed, “O you of little faith!”

But there were others in the gospels whose faith Jesus noticed and commended. He saw their faith, remarked about it, and was even astonished by it! But here’s the funny thing. We don’t know their names. We only know them because of their sickness, tragedy, and sordid histories. Jesus not only knew them by name, he knew their suffering, and saw great faith in the midst of it.

And if he commended the faith of these nameless examples of faith with no résumé of “great acts of faith,” then maybe my faith wasn’t a disappointment to him after all. And what was their demonstration of faith? What do they show us about faith that Jesus commends? I discovered something that gave me relief and peace. Remarkable faith is depending on Christ, not performing for him.

I wanted to study each of these people, read their stories, tell those stories to myself, and then follow their unlikely example. In each story I discovered that perhaps the most remarkable act of faith is to unreservedly carry our inadequacies to Jesus and trust Him to transform our weakness into worship.

[image error][image error]The stories of these eight unlikely examples of faith were so fascinating that I retold them in a series of eight biblical vignettes. Each one weaves history, theology, and fictional detail into their biblical accounts to bring a new perspective to those whose faith feels unremarkable. Those eight stories became my first book, Remarkable Faith: When Jesus Marveled at the Faith of Unremarkable People[image error].

If you feel like you’re too weak, needy, or dependent, or if you’re afraid your faith is a disappointment to God, Remarkable Faith will be a huge encouragement to you. You’ll be relieved and delighted to discover that the faith Jesus commended in the first century is exactly the kind of faith he is looking for today. It’s faith you and I can demonstrate in our everyday lives. And it’s very likely you already are.