Ann Voskamp's Blog, page 195

when you’ve got to figure out how to send the kids back to school & out into the big, wide world

every year, this time of year… man, am I right back here…

You talk with a police officer on your last Sunday.

Your last Sunday still living at home —  after the Preacher had said his Amen 10 minutes before noon, you walk up to one of the guys milling around with these smooth stones of small talk out in the chapel foyer —

and you up and ask the cop how to shine a pair of shoes. There are people who find small talk unbearably soul shrinking. That would be you.

“Just exactly how do you do the spit and polish of your shoes — like the mirror polish.”

And you motion with your hand like you’re polishing that mirror and I see clearly who you are —  how you are about to walk out of here, up and gone.

I slowly make a spinach salad, roast a pan of squash, onions, carrots with rosemary and garlic, cut up tomatoes.

You leave your scuffed up shoes at the side porch door, next to the golden lab, Boaz, all sprawled out.

You’re reading over your course agenda, the schedule of of your university classes. And I’m stepping over your shoes, in and out the door, checking on the chicken on the BBQ that’s puffing like a winded dragon. Your whole childhood, puffed and gone. Tomorrow, I’ll look in the fridge and realize you aren’t coming home for dinner anymore. There really are last suppers.

At the porch door, I lean over your shoes. Pick up your shoes, your man-sized shoes. The friend at church, the off-duty cop, he’d said 7 coats of polish. You’d need 7 coats laid down first. The BBQ sizzles. I sit on the edge of the porch and begin. Begin to polish your shoes before you leave, as if I can polish all the battered years into something better.

You know how there’s this cheering when the calendar rolls around again and kids have to catch buses and go back to school? All those happy sighs of relief for 18 years of back to school days?

Well, sitting on the front porch, polishing your 18 year old’s shoes, all I can do is swallow around this burning ember in my throat and think of that Piers Morgan line to Susan Boyle: “Well, nobody is laughing now.”

There ain’t nobody who gets to the final leaving and laughs relief. You wildly want one more day, one more strawberry sundae in the park, one more canoe paddle down the Maitland, one more load of laundry, one more sticky cereal bowl in the sink. And time’s run out.

I don’t think you know all the elements of the periodic table. And I am pretty sure your four years of desperate Latin wrestling are reduced now to only a feeble recitation of amo, amas, amat. The year we learned it, till you could sing all the countries of the world? How many do either one of us remember now?

The black polish spreads across the back of your shoe heel like butter. How can you spend so many of the fleeting days of a child’s life on the fleeting things?

How could I forget that the only thing that we’re always really teaching is love? What if I’m wild to go back to Dr. Suess and begin again? What if I want to go back and make the schedule simpler so our lives could be richer? So I could tie your shoe one more time and bend down and kiss your cowlick.

What if I want to play more games of monopoly and leave the dishes in the sink more often? What if I want to take you fishing more Saturdays and blow off cleaning up the garage? Why doesn’t someone tell all the homemakers: Cleanliness isn’t next to godliness. Love is.

What if I still want to memorize Romans with you and read through the Old Testament again and build a tree fort in the woods with you and sleep a week under stars? Motherhood is made up of childhood — and what if I missed it? What if all those glory days are gone and you won’t be at the table tomorrow and next week and next Sunday noon? Grace allows u-turns; it’s Time that doesn’t. This is a grace too, to coerce us all into waking up to the here that won’t be here tomorrow.

You may forget the chonology of the Eyptian pharaohs, but you’ll remember your Dad sneaking up behind me and kissing my ear while I was scrubbing out the breakfast frying pan. I’m not partial to how much you remember of calculus; but it’s dire that you know that the sum of how you see the ordinary is all that ever adds up to an extraordinary life. The lessons any kid remembers are the ones his parents lived. The goal is simple: It’s not about a 5-year scholarship but being a life-long learner and a life-long lover.

I wish I had cared a lot less about your room being clean and a lot more that you and your brothers being close. Why didn’t I paint it in neon on a wall: More important than a clean house is a close family.

I’m polishing your shoes, slow and sacred and silently brimming, trying to buff out all the creases of the last 18 years and there’s no changing it: I got a lot of things wrong, son. I wished we went to more free skates at the arena and had more free evenings because that buys peace. You and I both know how I should have bit my tongue more, prayed more, and what on earth kept me from smiling more?

I wished we’d read more Charlie Brown books together and laughed loud on the floor. I should have gone slower. Every time you saw me, a smile is what you should have seen first.

I’d give my eye teeth, my liver and lifetime worth of free bacon to go back and tell you three times a day,  to look you in the eyes and tell you: I really like you.

Forgive us for not painting those ghastly school-bus yellow walls in your room a different color about 5 years sooner.

By His grace and a few thousand miracles, there was good and smiles can swim through tears. Remember how we read a million library books together? I’ll never regret every page we chose over screens.

We ate three meals a day together at a table (and don’t think that doesn’t change the shape of a soul and the world). And we never pushed back our chairs until we’d had our dessert of Scripture. Life is about one thing: Coming to His table and inviting as many as you can to come with you and feast on the only Living Food. We gave you this.

And for better or worse, your Dad and I taught you how to work hard. Make it for the world’s better, son. 

And don’t live safe. How many times have I thought safe mattered when Jesus died to save us not to make us safe. No one ever got saved unless someone else was unsafe.

Seven coats of shoe polish. And there’s no way I’m close to letting you go.

Know before you go, son, before you go to school, before you head out into the world:

The Bible’s true, son. Every infallible, sword-sharp, breathing word of it. Don’t let anyone ever rationalize one beautiful iota of it away. Love it because it’s your Life.

And the only life worth living is the scandalous one: scandalous love, offensive mercy, foolish faith. Kiss babies. Always have one friend that feels on the fringe, that you have to pray to love, that makes the neighbors scratch their heads.

Stubbornly pray for your enemies till you see enemies are illusions and everyone is a friend and grace. Believe in every woman’s God-sized dreams. And rub her feet at the end of the day.

Be the kind of person who apologizes first because that’s the only way happiness can last.

And never forget that happiness is when His Word and your walk are in harmony. Never stop keeping company with Christ– and all the sinners, tax-collectors and cast-offs. Be an evangelist and use your words with your hands because your part of a Body and never stop loving God with all your heart, mind and soul, and loving others as yourself. Make that your creed.

It’s true, son: Be different and know everything you do matters. It’s what the Christ followers know: One man with God can change a culture. God didn’t put people in your path mostly for your convenience; He put you there for theirs. Loving the poor will make you rich, I promise. 

The only life worth living is the one lost.

And no matter how loud and crazy and broken the world is, child? Let joy live loud in your soul.

Believe that you are His beloved – it’s only when you trust that He loves you that you really begin to live. Really, count a thousand blessings more — why wouldn’t you want joy? Sing to no one and everyone on the front porch in the rain and laugh so much they question your sanity. Pet the dog long.

Because really, none of us knows how long we have. Remember that a pail with a pinhole loses as much as the pail pushed right over. A whole life can be lost in minutes wasted… in the small moments missed. None of this here is forever grace. That’s why it’s amazing grace.

Do it often: grab a lifeline by stepping offline. You’ll see your true self when you look for your reflection in the eyes of souls not the glare of screens.

This is what you always need to know: You have nothing to prove to anyone – if you’re in Him, you are already approved.

Be okay with not being liked: life’s about altars not applause. And be okay with not being seen or heard. It’ll let you hear and see better.

I know I’ve forgotten something – many things.

This parenting gig’s an experiment in radical grace and the work of every parent is to fully give to the child.

And it’s the work of every child to fully forgive the parents. This is how it turns, the torch passing from one to the next.

When I hold up your right shoe? Just to polish up the side?

I can feel that spot where your big toe has rubbed the shoe lining through. Makes me smile brave. You’re itching to go and begin.

So that’s what the parent does: Do not only grieve that it’s over — be grateful that it was. 

Don’t only grieve that it’s gone, be grateful that is was. 

Laugh that you lived and dance that you dared and inhale that it all happened — and it all was grace.

The world needs a few good men, son.

Your shoes are spit and polished at the back door, boy —

polished with a thousand parent’s prayers and the memories of a million little things…

Those shoes are made for walking a mirrored grace.

 

 

Related: 4 steps to Take When You are Not Ready For Change

Links for 2015-08-29 [del.icio.us]

Does Making the Bed Really Make You Happier?

Really — this one was read by every person in our house #gamechanger
How Long Does It Take to Read Popular Books?

now this is intriguing...

Only the Good Stuff: Multivitamins for Your Weekend [08.29.15]

Happy, happy, happy weekend!

Some real, down in the bones JOY to celebrate today! Links & stories this week 100% guaranteed to make you smile a mile wide & believe like crazy in a Good God redeeming everything — and that there’s love everywhere & for ((you))!  Serving up only the Good Stuff for you right here:

Jakub Polomski
Jakub Polomski
Jakub Polomski

somedays you just need to get away. Today’s your day? okay, you & me, right now —

let’s get away right here & let everything just go quiet 

yep — this 250lb red ball was on the loose this week…

Bibliobicicleta

really — doesn’t every street, every weekend need a pop-up bicycle library?

all work can become works of art

okay, now that’s a livestream: seen this humming bird feeding her babies?

who doesn’t need a welcome like this?

Hurricane Katrina photos: then and now – 10 years later. Time. Time is a bewildering thing

oh, yeah — go ahead and try not to cheer

Arthur Garcia-Clemente

so…did you know that….?

Really — this one was read by every single person in our house #gamechanger

the kids & you need to sit down & watch this one: Brain Food

Stuart Palley
Stuart Palley
Stuart Palley

beautiful & terrifying — and the brave who walk straight into it 

 thinking maybe we all need a whale of a heart these days?

In Christ, we are not held to a standard of perfection — we are held close by His arms of Grace.

And there is no greater relief to be found in all the world:

There is always more grace in Christ than there is guilt in us.

Simply click here for the whole library of free printables and tools:

dare you not to smile…

Bellerby & Co. Globemakers

 never seen the world quite like this? 

a first day of kindergarten that was … um… outside of the box

 oh, you know. just a Jaguar cub. just making a little public debut this week

so…did you know that?

How long does it take to read well known books? 

you could knock off a few of these this wkend? 

100 cameras.  given to the homeless. what they captured is sorta like heart fireworks …

uhhhh…. surprise!

 when you’re a survivor

I, mean, really…  Instagram of the Week Here

now…  this is sportsmanship

Post of the Week from these parts here:

… yeah, honest — about totally ripped me up, this one:

“you know they’re laughing at us, right?

on the trivialization, monetization & humiliation of the Gospel…”

because the real truth of it is, every single one of us, we all belong to each other

 yeah, let’s throw age out the window

okay, sign us up. Never get over how there are world changers everywhere

 yeah, there ain’t one of us that doesn’t need a fresh start

no one like You

[ print’s free for you here ]

Lord, yep, fear can’t get to us, panic can’t upend us, worry can’t undo us — because when we exhale, we can hear You like a warm breath:

“I am with you. There’s no need to fear the big things, the little things, anything, for I’m your God. I’ll give you strength when the weight of it all wears you down, I’ll help you when you’re hurting, when everyone’s hurting, I’ll hold you steady when everything wildly tilts, I’ll keep a firm grip on you — so you can rest tonight, because you are held.”

For worry is the façade of taking action when prayer really is.

And all the people held on to each other because they belonged to each other and they all beheld a Grace

that held them all.

In the name of Jesus, the only One who ever loved us to death and back to the real & forever life,

Amen.

‪[what’s changing my life ]

[excerpted from our devotions in our little Facebook community … come join us?]

That’s all for this weekend, friends.

Go slow. Be God-struck. Grant grace. Live Truth.

Give Thanks. Love well. Re – joy, re- joy, ‘re- joys’ again

Share Whatever Is Good.

your personal invitation to exhale all the stress

So today, we’re doing something different, that I haven’t done before. I’ve invited a well-loved guest to our porch, Scott Sauls, who served for several years as a pastor with Tim Keller at Redeemer in NYC before answering the call to Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville, and author of Jesus Outside the Lines, to introduce a very humble member of his own faith community to us — one that might happily delight you — From Pastor Scott Sauls:  “The influential people I admire most are the ones who stay tenaciously centered on God and unimpressed by their own “celebrity.” I admire the ones who are known more for faithfulness than flash, who are modest and shy, and who want to talk about you more than they want to talk about themselves.

I admire people who care more about faithfulness than a platform, and whose presence intimidates none and welcomes all. Sarah Young, bestselling author and faithful member of the church that I pastor, is such a person. When I think of Sarah, what comes to mind first is not “over ten million books sold in over twenty-six languages” or even that her little devotional, Jesus Calling, has spoken to our two children more than any other of its kind. Even though these things are all true, I think of other things when I think of Sarah. I think of the woman who prays often for me, her pastor. I think of the woman singing strong in the seventeenth row with her husband Steve, who ministers to Nashville’s Japanese community. I think of the grandma smiling ear to ear as her grandchild got baptized last Sunday.

I think of the compassionate friend who eases burdens for women impacted by addiction, mental illness, trauma and incarceration. I think of the bestselling author who bought a used car, who lives her life in quiet faithfulness, and who has callused knees from interceding for her readers. I think of the sinner-made-saint who knows what it means to serve, suffer and persevere. I think of the missionary whose mission is to convince tired, disoriented, thirsting sojourners that Jesus is calling for them. It is my great pleasure to introduce to you, my friend and the King’s daughter, Sarah Young:

guest post by Sarah Young

G od is present with us.

Right now.

Do you believe that?

Do you believe it in theory, or do you experience God’s presence as you go through your day?

God yearns to spend quiet moments with us and help us grow more and more aware of His presence as we seek Him.

Yet as much as we want to experience God’s presence, we often shy away from Him. We know we’re unworthy in and of ourselves to approach Him. His presence reminds us of our smallness and sinfulness.

If we have put our faith in Christ, though, we are clothed in His worthiness. As the apostle Paul writes, “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” (Galatians 3:26–27).

Because Jesus died for us, we don’t have to try to be good enough. His goodness is all we will ever need.

Do you hear God calling you today to come into His presence? Do you believe He wants you to experience His presence?

In my own life, I longed to live in Jesus’ presence. I had been writing in my prayer journals for years, but that was one-way communication: I did all the talking.

So I decided to “listen” to God with pen in hand, Scripture open, writing down what I believed He was saying through His Word to my heart.

Here are several messages I recorded in my prayer journals:

“Come to Me with a teachable spirit, eager to be changed. A close walk with Me is a life of continual newness.

Do not cling to old ways as you step into a new year.

Instead, seek My face with an open mind, knowing that your journey with Me involves being transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

“As you focus your thoughts on Me, be aware that I am fully attentive to you. I see you with a steady eye because My attention span is infinite.”

“I know and understand you completely; My thoughts embrace you in everlasting Love. I also know the plans I have for you: plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Give yourself fully to this adventure of increasing attentiveness to My presence.”

“Come to Me for understanding, since I know you far better than you know yourself. I comprehend you in all of your complexity; no detail of your life is hidden from Me.”

“I view you through eyes of grace, so don’t be afraid of My intimate awareness. Allow the Light of my healing presence to shine into the deepest recesses of your being—cleansing, healing, refreshing, and renewing you. Trust Me enough to accept the full forgiveness that I offer you continually.”

“This great gift, which cost Me My life, is yours for all eternity. Forgiveness is at the very core of My abiding Presence. I will never leave you or forsake you.”

“When no one else seems to understand you, simply draw closer to Me. Rejoice in the One who understands you completely and loves you perfectly. As I fill you with My Love, you become a reservoir of love, overflowing into the lives of other people.”

The practice of listening to God increased my intimacy with Him —  and it could do the same for you.

But first you have to put aside the busyness of the day and be intentional about spending time in God’s presence.

It’s much like the choice that Mary made in Luke 10:38–42:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.

She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

  “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Why don’t you practice spending some time in God’s presence with this passage?

Begin by taking a few minutes in silence to reread this passage and picture yourself in the scene. You can put yourself in the place of one of the characters—Mary, Martha, one of the male disciples accompanying Jesus—or you can be in the room watching.

Ask God to show you what He wants you to see in the passage. Use your senses to imagine the scene. What do you see? Hear? Smell? Does Jesus look at you? Say anything to you? What do you feel when He speaks to each person?

Now take a few moments to reflect on the experience. How easy it was for you to relax in Jesus’ presence as you sat in silence with this passage. Did your mind wander? Where did you put yourself in the story? What insights did you gain? How was this like or unlike the way you usually approach the Bible?

There will be times in our lives when we will be desperate for God’s presence. When our circumstances are so overwhelming that we need to know we’re not alone but are being cared for by a God who sees us and loves us.

During these times God will come to us gently in our distress and comfort us with His presence.

But the Lord isn’t just our comfort. He is also the Lord Almighty, the Ultimate Authority, the Creator of the Universe. When we enter His presence, we tread on holy ground.

“Let me anoint you with My presence. I am King of kings and Lord of lords, dwelling in unapproachable light. When you draw near to Me, I respond by coming closer to you.

“As My presence envelops you, you may feel overwhelmed by My power and glory. This is a form of worship: sensing your smallness in comparison to My greatness.

“Man has tended to make himself the measure of all things. But man’s measure is too tiny to comprehend My majestic vastness. That is why most people do not see Me at all, even though they live and move and have their being in Me.

“Come to Me and listen! Attune yourself to My voice, and receive My richest blessings. Though I am King of the universe, I am totally accessible to you. I am with you wherever you are. Nothing can separate you from My presence!

“When I cried out from the cross, ‘It is finished!’ the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. This opened the way for you to me Me face to face, with no need of protocol or priests. I, the King of kings, am your constant companion.”

Today, God is inviting you to enjoy the radiant beauty of His presence.

He has made Himself completely accessible to you and is waiting for you to come to Him.

So accept His invitation, enter in, allow yourself to be overwhelmed by God —

and then declare His glorious being to the world!

 

Sarah Young’s devotional writings are personal reflections from her daily quiet time of Bible reading, praying, and writing in prayer journals. With sales of more than 14 million books worldwide, Jesus Calling has appeared on all major bestseller lists. Sarah’s writings include Jesus Calling, Jesus Today? Jesus Lives, Dear Jesus, Jesus Calling,  for Little Ones, Jesus Calling, Bible Storybook, Jesus Calling: 365 Devotions for Kids, and Peace in His Presence—each encouraging readers in their journey toward intimacy with Christ. Sarah and her husband were missionaries in Japan & Australia for many years. 

Maybe this is the time, right now, to commit to exhaling the stress &  Experiencing God’s Presence.

[ Our humble thanks to Thomas Nelson for their partnerships in today’s devotion ]

 

Links for 2015-08-27 [del.icio.us]

... how the path to Harvard -- may lead through your living room? #homeschooling

.... take some, throw out some, but some food for thought: “In a time that we customize jeans, we can’t imagine doing this with education?”
America’s Reading Crisis Is Much Worse Than You Think

@ChristianityToday.... why our kids, our communities, our churches... need to read good, rich words... and we're in crisis
10 Years After Katrina

@ The New York Times ... sit a bit with this one?

when your summer was a bit of a bust — and not at all what you hoped

okay, so this young woman? Has turned out to be one of my best friends. Brave as all get out, smart as a whip, walks only in leaps of faith, & if you follow her on Instagram you know how relentlessly determined she is to always find the hope, always find the humor — always find Him. My heart friend,   Meredith Toering,  with  the next glorious installment of our Unwrapping Series (have you checked these out? Your soul & summer will exhale its thanks to you) so…

 

photos and text by Meredith Toering

I open my door and step out into the humid Beijing morning.

Hair hot on my neck, twisting and curling, trying to escape its’ hasty, shoulder-thrown braid.

Walk to work. Stepping the same path as always, I finally realize the heat. “It’s summer. This! Right here, right now. It snuck up on me this year…. but…how can it feel so different?”

Summer was my childhood favorite.

The schoolwork finally finished, it was a bit of rest and finally time for FUN! The magic months were here, bright blue skies and crashing ocean waves announcing summer’s arrival.

The days were filled to the brim with family teasing and laughing friendships, until August finally bid summer goodbye with mountain hikes, clothes still lingering with family camp smoke.

It was a wild and carefree time, and I entered each fall holding tightly to summer’s stories, heart full of His light.

I moved to China last fall, after summer’s end.

“Come? Run a foster home for babies with very broken little hearts?”

Little feet and little hands, a bracelet hinting of love and of loss. Tied around her wrist by an unknown mother, written with hopes for her future and her heart.
Traditional Chinese lanterns on Wangfujing Street.
My gem, weeks before surgery, deep purple lips but hope-filled eyes.
Spicy green beans, potatoes, and Kung Pao chicken — a traditional Chinese supper
Little blue toes, the undeniable sign of a broken little heart
Books at Panjiayuan Market
Our champion baby Zeke, 5 days after heart surgery. His name means “May God Strengthen”, and He surely has.
Raindrops on roses — blooming outside our home — reminding us that life is always beautiful
Market Beads — hand strung and piled for sale
Ruby-gem, out of ICU, her pink lips and brave scar peeking through, both telling of her hope-story.
The Emperor’s Forbidden City — Beijing, China
Colors and Patterns — Hong Qiao Pearl Market
Zeke — finally out of intensive care. Our little miracle boy.
Panjiayuan Market has hundreds of booths, selling antiques and artifacts that date back to the Chinese dynasties of old.
Our little gem’s fingers, captured hours before surgery
Any teapot, any shape, any color. Panjiayuan Market, Beijing.
An alley in the Beijing Hutongs
My gem of a girl, pink-lipped and rosy-cheeked after heart surgery.
A Beijing must — The Great Wall of China

It was a decision made in the space of one heartbeat – on a plane two weeks later.

Fall became winter, and heart-wrenching sadness accompanied the outdoor chill.

One of our little ones, unexpectedly gone too soon. Her heart couldn’t hold on, and I wasn’t sure how mine now could.

Along came spring, bringing with her three new bundles of pure brave heart.

Risky heart surgeries and terrifying decisions; hurdle after hurdle crowding our path. I found myself yearning for summer; longing for the joy and rest I knew it would bring – until – it didn’t. At least – not in the way I expected.

Instead of calm beaches, summer entered with the chaos of a heart surgery for a child not expected to survive.

I obsessed over oxygen saturations and analyzed heart rates — not quite the blissful magic of watching waves meet shore.

I never made it to the Rockies, but I climbed a mountain of faith instead – one with the most incredible of summit views.

That first glimpse of her brilliantly pink lips and toes took my breath away, now worn by a child I had only known as dusky, heart-shaking blue.

I saw His faithfulness stand true – through harrowing nights and joy-filled mornings – all for one little Gem, loved beyond measure.

I found that summer’s gift is not always what we expect – but it’s everything we need.

In the midst of worried hearts and hopes and fears, Jesus meets us where we are.

He is by our side as we brave-step into unknowns — and He will not let us down.

In every season, we can trust that He is good, because we know He always is.

But in summer, this summer, in the midst of her unexpected storms and beautiful miracles, I could feel His goodness surely. He goes before and behind and He is always faithful.

A summer filled with hopes and dreams, of miracles and fears –

and the unwrapped gift of a Savior who is always, always near.

 

Meredith Toering is Oklahoma-born, with a Sweet Home Alabama heart — recently transplanted to the Far East. She is learning to live, laugh, and love in China, the land she now calls home. Her heart beats for heart babies, and she keeps busy running a Morning Star, a foster home for orphans with complex congenital heart defects and advocating for family preservation. This young woman is it — and pouring it all out for Him. She can usually be found with a cup of coffee in hand, a stethoscope around her neck, and a babe on her hip — always ready for the next adventure that is sure to be headed her way. She is, hands down, absolutely one of my favourite people on Instagram.

Links for 2015-08-26 [del.icio.us]

... how the path to Harvard -- may lead through your living room? #homeschooling

... there's much I don't agree with in this article... and homeschooling isn't at all for everyone & there are truly phenomenal schools with teachers who are changing the world & need all our support & accolades... and this too, from some rigorous thinking home educators: "“In a time that we customize jeans, we can’t imagine doing this with education?” he continues. “We’ve decided that in third grade a child should read, but school is not based on any biological evidence for how children learn.”
Does Proverbs Promise My Child Will Not Stray?

This and more from @JohnPiper: "Rest in the sovereignty of God over your children. We cannot bear the weight of their eternity. That is God’s business and we must roll all of that onto Him."

when you’re waiting on God’s grace-filled voice to bring your prodigal home

In 1997 Jim Cymbala, wrote a bestselling book titled Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire. In that account of the beginning of Brooklyn Tabernacle where he was pastor, he mentions a family crisis that spurred the church to fervently pray for mercy and restoration of a prodigal. That prodigal just happened to be his daughter, Chrissy. Her story is a raw look at how the world’s influence tried to drown out God’s loving voice. Thankfully, even when she was at her lowest points, God’s voice could not be silenced. It’s a grace to welcome the words of Chrissy to the farm’s front porch today…

 

guest post by Chrissy Cymbala Toledo

L ove and music filled the home I grew up in.

I knew my parents loved me, of course, but early on I experienced God’s love too in a powerful way at the small, struggling church my dad pastored.

I was seven years old at the time, about a year after he had initiated a Tuesday night prayer service there. I walked into the sanctuary one night and my dad was sitting on the front row, and Mom was playing the organ off to the side.

Looking around at everyone’s faces, I could tell that Mom’s playing was touching their hearts.

There was something about her music during prayer meeting that would make me aware that God was in the room with us.

“Bless the Lord, oh my soul,” Dad began to sing.

As the small group joined him, it seemed as if the singing was bringing God closer and closer.

The sounds, the feeling, the comfort I felt was like being wrapped up in the warmest, softest blanket possible.

Dad told us to join hands with the person next to us and pray.

Even though I had done this before, this time something happened. A warm sensation permeated my whole body, and I started to cry.

As the sounds of people praying filled the room, in that moment it was as if I were being hugged tightly yet gently at the same time; so loved that it brought tears of joy to my eyes.

For the rest of my life this presence of God—God coming so close that you feel like you are being embraced by perfect love—would both haunt me and compel me.

Not long after that, my mom announced the formation of a church choir.

I loved going with her to choir rehearsal.

I would sit in the propped-open doorway at the top of the steps leading to the backyard of the church, the sounds of the city in one ear, and in the other, songs about hope and love.

Often when I would come inside, I would see tears flowing down some of the choir members’ cheeks as they sang. I asked my mom if the people were sad when they were singing.

“Those aren’t tears of sadness, Chrissy,” she said. “Those are tears of joy because of what God is starting to do in their lives.” There was something holy about the music and words of the songs Mom taught that moved me very deeply.

Over the next few years, two separate incidents involving two women in the church I considered family caused a subtle but significant shift in how I perceived myself. I left my childhood behind.

Even though I was still active in church, my spiritual focus began to blur.

When I became a teenager, I started to obsess about my appearance, striving for model-like perfection. I didn’t have a boyfriend, but boys were clearly paying attention to me which made me less insecure.

I didn’t tell anyone I was struggling with wanting “to be good enough”; more than anything I wanted to be chosen as the one and only person a guy desired. To be the girl being described in the pop songs of Whitney Houston, Prince, and other secular artists. The music that had moved my heart as a young girl in the church became my secret friend on the radio.

The fear of sin that I had grown up with had constantly warned me, “Don’t do it,” “Don’t go there,” and “Walk away.” That voice was now being drowned out by new music that told me, “This is how you do it,” “This is what you need to become,” “This is what will make you good enough to be chosen.”

And then I met him.

He was handsome and mysterious and definitely not a “church guy” even though that is where I first saw him and his friend. There was something cool and sophisticated about him that allured me. I decided it was not a good idea to tell my parents when I secretly arranged my first date with him—I was certain they wouldn’t approve.

I convinced myself that I wasn’t being dishonest.

I was a private person and becoming more independent. Still, I was torn because I knew my parents didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

They had never been overbearing or overly protective. They really trusted me. But I needed to find out on my own if I was good enough to be the one person someone would choose to be his alone.

Thus began years of deception, lies, and eventual distancing from my family. I was a young women obsessed with a guy, not realizing how much this relationship was destroying my life.

There would be moments when I would wake up to my reality. When I felt so helpless and confused.

I would wonder how it would feel to be free, to live without this constant pressure of lying and covering up my lies.

I remember one night being so overwhelmed that even the music on the radio annoyed me.

I stared into the darkness and began to cry.

All of a sudden, without invitation, a sweet presence came into my room. It was there, as real as the tears running down my face. I knew this presence from the time I was a little girl.

It began to wash over me like a wave of what can only be described as love.

I couldn’t help but feel surprised that God would want to be anywhere near me right now. I heard His voice speak gently to my heart, “Chrissy, I still love you. I still want you. I still have a plan for your life.”

God hadn’t forgotten me or turned His back on me, even though I had done that to Him.

My journey back to him wasn’t over quite yet—there were still more regrets on my part before that dramatic prayer service at Brooklyn Tabernacle that finally brought me home.

My homecoming was not unlike the prodigal son in the Bible. I was welcomed and celebrated by my family and the church. And yet I needed healing on the inside. My heart . . . it felt like it was full of thorns—thorns that my mistakes had put there.

One Sunday morning, when the choir was singing “Friend of a Wounded Heart,” every word hit me. The song was about me. Even though I was sitting amidst thousands of people, God’s sweet presence came over me in such a way that I felt as though I were the only one in that room.

He was speaking directly to me as the song was being sung.

I wept uncontrollably as I released every mistake I had ever made and every regret I carried.

I could almost feel God taking my heart into His gentle hands, and He began to pull out every thorn—one by one—saying,

“I love you Chrissy. You belong to Me now.”

I wasn’t defined by my past choices anymore.

He had chosen me.

 

Chrissy Cymbala Toledo is joyfully married to Al Toledo, the friend in her book, Girl in the Song, who had been there for her all along. They have three children and lead the Chicago Tabernacle, a vibrant, multi-ethnic church on Chicago’s north side. Chrissy is passionate about leading girls (of all ages) into freedom that can be found through a relationship with Christ.

For every wanderer, for everyone praying for a prodigal, for everyone who promised to pray for  someone hurting: Girl in the Song, the True Story of a Young Woman that Lost Her Way and the Miracle that Led Her Home.

[ Our humble thanks to Tyndale House Publishers for their partnership of today’s devotion ]

you know they’re laughing at us, right? on the trivialization, monetization & humiliation of the Gospel

So when I step out on to the front porch this morning, there’s a Bible right there at my feet, ripped up into a million mocking shreds.

The Sermon on the Mount is torn and chewed and spit out by the BBQ, like the whole thing could be tinder for some kind of burnt sacrifice gone terribly wrong.

Fragments of the slashed-up gospels look like papery ash fallen on all the hostas.

The spine of some kid’s Bible left out on the porch on a Sunday is splayed like a ruptured mess on Monday, like the intestinal innards have been gutted and left for a circling swoop of lazy, misguided vultures.

Our new red Lab puppy, who’s grown more into a gangly, vandalizing teenage canine, is the guilty who sprawls himself unashamedly and smirking across the pages of Isaiah.

And all I can hear is what I’ve been hearing all summer — this deafening echo that I can’t shake in the face of a miserable stream of headlines, in the noise of guffawing comment threads, in the crowd of running Facebook commentary:



You know they’re laughing at us all, right?

You know they’re laughing at us all, right?

They’re laughing at us because the evangelist Creflo Dollar’s been out panhandling a campaign this summer for his own 65 million dollar private jet because apparently there are people going around with Bibles under their arms proclaiming personal jets are “necessary to spread God’s word,” because a luxury private jet is, in his words, “standard operating procedure for people of faith” — when in developing countries every second pregnant woman and about 40% of preschool children are estimated to be anemic and 1 billion poor people in developing countries  live on $1.25 a day or less.

They’re laughing at us because some hackers slapped a site named Ashley Madison too hard on the proverbial back and the old girl, with her brazen tag line, “Life is short. Have an Affair” —- she coughed up the names of more than a few million account holders who paid bona fide bucks to hook them up with someone to aid and abet them in their premeditated decision to make a sham of their marriage vows. Ashley Madison hacked up more than one or two names of some well known, soul-hurting Christians.

You don’t want to know how the gossip and social media sites howled.

I have no idea where to start cleaning up the mess of this Bible that’s been pulverized across our front porch, the lawn.

For a thousand torn and slivered reasons, I want to slump against the door and just cry.

Don’t think for one split hurting minute, that heaven’s not weeping.

I’d heard it last week, through some choking grapevine or other, about these new adult colouring books, about how there’s these 4 adult colouring books in the top 10 at Amazon, millions selling like hot cakes for the burnt out, a way for a harried world to decompress and destress, by pulling out some Crayola.

So what if — the idea went — what if somebody married the idea of pretty adult colouring pages with some calming, soothing Jesus quotes, with a bit of the very Word of God — and packaged the whole thing to hit the shelves by Easter?

Just in time for that gravy train headed toward Easter— you know, that time of year when we fall flat on our faces before the Cross of Christ because the Creator of the Cosmos rent open a vein and drained Himself dry for a hemorrhaging-to-death world. Which, you never know, might be the perfect time for us to go around peddling pretty colouring books?

You know they’re out there laughing at us all, right?

They’re laughing at us because we make the Gospel a comedy with our hypocrisy, and our lack of monogamy, and our puffed up religiosity and dishonesty and our self-righteous animosity.

They’re laughing at us because we trivialize the Gospel because we monetize it, because we cheapen it and we sell it, because we make ourselves comfortable with it —- instead of dying for it.

In the midst of a lot of messes out there and in us, the world’s laughing at us because:

Christians grant all kinds of grace for one of their own men down —- but they cast all kinds of stones for anyone they look down their noses at —— anyone who doesn’t live like them, make choices like them, believe like them.

How can we shield our own from the media, but take to social media to sling more than an arrow or two at those with different lifestyle choices, different politics, different beliefs?



How can we have amazing grace for all of our own people — but have amazingly quick finger pointing for all who aren’t?

How can we love mercy for our people, and not love mercy for all people made in the image and likeness of God?

When we are against abortion but are for the cutting of welfare, when our political agendas are loud but our daily schedules are pretty quiet about serving people different than us, when we get up on our soapboxes about morality but don’t get out of our comfortable boxes to make real friends with those who live a different lifestyle —— we look like we’re more about pro-birth than we are pro-life, we look like we’re more about self-preservation than community transformation, we look like we’re more about judgement than Jesus.

The life of Jesus would radically suggest: The most conservative in theology, should be the most liberal in loving.



The life of Jesus would radically suggest: Don’t advertise your beautiful faith without advertising your broken-down faults — because those broken-down faults are the exact reason why you need your beautiful faith.



The life of Jesus would radically suggest: This Cheap Grace is costing the Church its voice.

Cheap grace is this bland vanilla comfortableness, that only wants to taste remorselessly palatable, only wants to gain societal approval and popular acceptability and robust bank accounts — and risk nothing.

Like Bonhoeffer said: “Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion —- are thrown away at cut prices.

Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves.



Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession…. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the Cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.

Well, then —- let the Christian live like the rest of the world, let him model himself on the world’s standards in every sphere of life…” [Bonhoeffer]

Just because grace is free, it is never cheap — but because it is free, there are too many who have held it cheaply.

So what of  costly grace?

Costly grace will cost you absolutely nothing, but it will demand that you risk absolutely everything.

Costly grace isn’t some lucky door prize we win so that we can become bullying bouncers at the door. Costly grace comforts us in our sin — but never once confirms anyone in any sin.

Costly grace will cost you nothing — and it will cost you your credit-card comfort, your immediate-gratification, your hidden self-stroking pleasure-idols, your financial ladder-climbing, and your lone-wolf, self-made man self-sufficiency.



The Gospel will not dare be mocked: Costly grace is completely free — and it will cost you your complete life.

Those pages of that Bible blowing out across the lawn and in the garden—- The Bible is full of hypocrites — the Bible is full of liars and cheaters and mockers and deceivers, adulterers, peddlers, panhandlers, elitists and hypocritical crooks — and the Bible is full of a costly grace for every single one of them — which gives every single one of the likes of us appalling, relentless hope.

It’s never our unwavering clinging to God in our brokenness, but God’s unwavering carrying of us through our brokenness — that holds all the broken in a healing love.

Grace like this reads like a cosmic joke — that is no joke.

You can laugh your way all to the bank with this one: Grace has completely bought out karma — but it wasn’t cheap grace. It cost Jesus everything — and it will cost us our whole lives to thank Him for it.

“The call of every Christian is to come pick up a Cross and come die.” [Bonhoeffer]

The call every single day is to stop the trivialization and monetization and humiliation of the Gospel — and instead internalize it, to incarnate it, to inflame it. To be healed by it, because you are indebted to it.

And because there is more than enough healing Jesus-grace for those fallen inside our Church doors —- we could be the people who will brazenly have enough healing Jesus-grace for those fallen outside our Church doors.

The paper-chewing dog circles my legs like a kid begging love… like the whole hurting tribe of us begging love. I pick up the torn up Word. And draw that beggar close in all this loving light.

The laughter at us could become laughter with us — the way it is when a costly grace rains down relief on all our open wounds —-

and you can’t help but dance, all the broken and busted tearing up the dark.

 

Related: When You Need a Fresh Way Forward: The Emmaus Option

Only the Good Stuff: Multivitamins for Your Weekend [08.22.15]

Happy, happy, happy weekend!

yep, so the post crashed here & we lost the whole shebang. But you wanna know what? It’s worth the time to go back & gather all the good stuff, to make sure we share a whole lot of the GOOD NEWS, to take the time to make folks laugh too loud — because honest? Life’s hard & what in the world are we here for but to just spread around some serious joy?

Sooooo —- coming right up, for your weekly serving of happiness: Only The Good Stuff, links & stories, absolutely 100% guaranteed to MAKE YOU SMILE, exhale, laugh like a lovely hyena & just feel your faith restored in fine folk & one Always Good God who is really & truly redeeming everything. You betcha: Everybody needs to hear about the GOOD STUFF.

D. Martincová
D. Martincova
M. Béreš

completely free 2 minute virtual vacation, yours for the taking

uhhh Houston, it appears we have a (cat) situation!

Andrew Marttila

beautiful eyes — there really is beauty absolutely everywhere

caught on camera at the beach this week —

things always, always, always, look different when we look up

 new friends? gotta love ’em

José Luis Rodríguez

community, people — nothing like community

really, who knew?

making this ..without lifting his pen?

so: just staying at what you’re doing, even when it’s hard —

and yes, ma’am, you can count on pretty spectacular things happening

one for the history books:

first swimmer to win the 200, 400, 800 and 1,500-meter freestyles in a major competition

and after the meet? she quickly spread the credit around

Point is: STAY IN THE POOL. Keep on pushing on the hard things — and spread the credit around

straight up amazing

Annie Jacob
Annie Jacob
Annie Jacob

yep, dog days of summer — and absolutely no shame in saying we thought this was hilarious

maybe umm…. watch this with your eyes closed?

Aric Crabb/Bay Area News Group
Aric Crabb/Bay Area News Group

two guys. sorting, melting & molding discarded — crayons.  

C’mon now, who doesn’t need a second chance?  Especially when it turns out why they’re doing it  

 alrighty — ever wondered where your checked luggage has traveled?

cheering!

Craig Chandler/University of Nebraska-Lincoln

that’s right,beautiful people: at 87? she’s earned her college degree after going back to heal her broken heart  Take Note: go do that big thing you’re dreaming — even when it’s really brutally hard

uh, yeah —  nobody was expecting that to jump out of the water?!

Ivelina Blagoeva
Ivelina Blagoeva
Ivelina Blagoeva

no way,  no way, you can look at these & something deep & beautiful not happen

  okay, no shame — maybe this is the cutest ever?

Denise Marsolek‎

I’m telling you — who get’s a love story like this?

and really — don’t you think it’d get pretty crazy in here if we all did just one thing today, just one thing,  to love large like this?

“Many people … are nice to Kaden, but that doesn’t mean they see him.”

okay — this…

you can do this: go soar

we’re doing it, folks – — all of us together, just everyday doing incredible things like this

you know — sometimes even a downpour is just. the. best.

yeah, she nailed it: There is nothing left to be done but praise His name. All the time.

“Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess His name” (Hebrews 13:15).

All week, nope, have not been able to get today’s TODAY segment or Kathie Lee’s words out of my head

do not, DO NOT, leave the internet without watching this today

so maybe before this weekend is over… maybe because Frank would want us to do this — maybe because the Good Shepherd wants us to and maybe this is how a whole country, a whole world, in need of good news starts to really hear the good news — by us being a people known by our praise, by our joy, by our gratitude, by us all being a bunch of gratitude revolutionaries who just take the time to do it right now:

THANK A TEACHER, A FIREMAN, A POLICEMAN, A DOCTOR, A TRUCKER, A NURSE, A HAIRDRESSER, A MOM, A MAILMAN, THANK SOMEBODY, ANYBODY, right now, tag them, give them a shout out, and thank them for slaying giants and using their gift to make a hurting world more beautiful with His touch of amazing grace…

Because sometimes the way we leave a legacy of friendship with God — is to take the time to thank someone — because gratitude IS the revolutionary language of friendship with God & man…

… so they say some guy started loading up his Kalashnikov rifle yesterday, in the toilet stall of a train speeding south from Amsterdam to Paris —

and there were two plain clothed American servicemen, an Air Force man, a National Guardsman, with a childhood buddy from California, headed down to the city of the Eiffel Tower, who stood up on the travelling bullet, confronted the gun-weilding terrorist, took some bullets, towered over evil & simply took the guy down.

There are the brave & steady-hearted who do the right thing in the private, plain clothed moments, who stand up for good when it’s inconvenient, because that’s what separates the really good intentioned, from the real people who intentionally change the world for good.

There are people who in their private moments man up & risk their lives for the public good — and there are those who live morally risky private lives while only publicly pretending to be good.

There are plain clothes heroes all around us, on our trains & under our roofs, out on our front lines & sitting right here in front of us, the brave who live quiet lives of long faithfulness & daily courage, who are brave not because it’s their public job or mask or gig — but because it’s privately who they are, in their marriages, and DNA, and their unnoticed moments.

Long after the last train rolls out of the station, and all the spotlights of all the newsreels roll on — there are still more than a few fine men.

 so definitely, it can be miserably hard — and that doesn’t change one iota how this is possible

oh, you know — no biggie. just a mama bear and her 5 cubs, you know, stopping by for AN HOUR LONG SWIM IN YOUR BACKYARD

 then, kick off the weekend & turn this pretty loud —  leave on repeat

[ print’s free for you here ]

Hey Soul? yeah, you know what would really change everything today, just take the burden & weight right off everybody (& who doesn’t desperately need that?)

— just this:

You don’t have to be awesome & do everything.

You simply have to believe that

the One who is Awesome loves you through everything.

“God told them, “I’ve never quit loving you & never will. Expect love, love, & more love!” Jer.31:3MSG

That just takes all the pressure of to do everything awesome today — because He promises to love you through everything today, in spite of everything, & that is what is awesome…

[what’s changing my life ]

[excerpted from our devotions in our little Facebook community … come join us?]

That’s all for this weekend, friends.

Go slow. Be God-struck. Grant grace. Live Truth.

Give Thanks. Love well. Re – joy, re- joy, ‘re- joys’ again

Share Whatever Is Good.