Tag: Quotes

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Wanting to be a Faithful Advocate

After reading this incredible charge to take charge in drawing the charge (did you follow that?), I am praising God. What a responsibility, what a joy, what a gift, what a grace, what a burden! to be called to take up His cross and follow Him. And by that, He doesn’t mean to blindly follow anyone who claims to be following Him… but to FOLLOW HIM.

How does one do this with a balance of boldness and humility?

I don’t have the answer to that. But I am asking God to reveal it to me over time, so that I may be accurately taking up His cross, following Him, dividing truth, pursuing wisdom, receiving grace, and pouring out mercy. (This reminds me of my dad ~ and if you’ve ever met my dad, I dare to say, you couldn’t possibly disagree.)

Central to the task of walking in the wisdom of Christ is obedience that could be mistaken for being a crank without actually being one. … Nehemiah is a good guy. He might have easily been accused being a crank, a legalist. But he wasn’t. But Nehemiah was the kind of obedient that might get him labeled as one. If you are never accused of being cranky, stodgy, a bit legalistic, you aren’t doing it right. But the key is to obey in such a way as to draw the charge without actually being guilty of it. … The difference is whether you are fundamentally an accuser or an advocate. Do you confront your friends, your roommates, your brothers and sisters in love, honestly wanting to do them good? Or do you despise them, secretly hoping they are shamed in the eyes of others? Are you an advocate or an accuser? You want to be the kind of faithful advocate that draws the charge of being a crank without actually being one.

When you read that teaser paragraph (excerpts from the above linked post), do you think of Christ? I do! Wow. It’s like he’s describing Jesus Christ, His life, and His faithful advocacy. Jesus got accused of being a crank, but He wasn’t actually a crank. He was THE ultimate faithful advocate. By God’s grace, may we seek the true Christlikeness that would put us into the same camp. Amen.

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In praise of our sovereign, powerful God!

From Streams in the Desert, for November 5th:

Genesis 18:14 “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

Here is God’s loving challenge to you and to me today. He wants us to think of the deepest, highest, worthiest desire and longing of our hearts, something which perhaps was our desire for ourselves or for someone dear to us, yet which has been so long unfulfilled that we have looked upon it as only a lost desire, that which might have been but now cannot be, and so have given up hope of seeing it fulfilled in this life.

That thing, if it is in line with what we know to be His expressed will (as a son to Abraham and Sarah was), God intends to do for us, even if we know that it is of such utter impossibility that we only laugh at the absurdity of anyone’s supposing it could ever now come to pass. That thing God intends to do for us, if we will let Him.

“Is anything too hard for the Lord?” Not when we believe in Him enough to go forward and do His will, and let Him do the impossible for us. Even Abraham and Sarah could have blocked God’s  plan if they h ad continued to disbelieve.

The only thing too hard for Jehovah is deliberate, continued disbelief in His love and power, and our final rejection of His plans for us. Nothing is too hard for Jehovah to do for them that trust Him.

In 2010 I wrote in the margin, “Weeping. Too close to home. I can not even write.”
In 2011 I wrote in the margin, “Oh God, a year ago indeed we had given up hope for our desire of another living child! I am in tears again now, for the reminder that no indeed, nothing is too hard for our Lord!”
In 2013 now, I assent again that God is in control of all things, and even my disbelief does not block the Father’s design. Even my rejection of His plans. He takes my disbelief, my rejection, my despair, my weeping… and He takes this cracked pot of clay and reworks it, so that He can work out His perfect will. What a beautiful thing, and what glorious promise, what blessed hope!!

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Reformed & Always Reforming!

On this Reformation Day, please take a few minutes to read this beautiful defense of the Protestant Reformation. It could not be better said. Here are two wee teasers for you:

First, let’s be clear that what Luther and Calvin objected to primarily were the innovations and flagrant abuses in the Roman church. In other words, the Reformers did not object to the traditions of the fathers per se. What they objected to was the way popes and priests and cardinals ran rough shod over the most ancient traditions, you know relics like love your neighbor as yourself and thou shalt not steal.

Second, let’s defend the idea of division. Better, let’s celebrate it. But let’s distinguish schism from division. When God tore open Adam’s side, we don’t have any pictures, but I suspect it was a bloody business. Bones probably popped. If you were an angel in scrubs in that first operating room, I imagine you might have wondered what the Maker was up to. But this was a glorious division, the creation of something beautiful. This was not God being schismatic, this was God being creative.

May the Lord grant us grace and courage to continue reforming, ever seeking to be more conformed to His image and the pursuing of His will!

“The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellar full of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two-hundred proof Grace–bottle after bottle of pure distilate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel–after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps–suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started…Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, not the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case.” (Fr. Robert Farrar Capon – 1925-2013)

 

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Remembering, joyfully

Today is October 15th, the day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss remembrance and awareness. In past years, I have been nearly overwhelmed by anticipating this and preparing for it. It’s one of the few times where I felt normal for speaking about the babies that were born directly from my womb to the glories of heaven, one of the few days where I don’t find myself blushing when talking about the little babies the size of a fingernail who I have cradled in my hand, one of the few Hallmark holiday type moments that I take delight in embracing. I love to speak about my babies, to remember aloud the beautiful little children that God created with Steven & me, to imagine what their resurrected bodies look like, to wonder what the hosts of heaven sound like with my seven little saints uniting their voices with all the saints victorious. I love to light candles and let balloons go up into the sky. I love to wear jewelry with their names on them, and look at the arrows in a leather quiver that also bear their names. As weird as it sounds, I love to think about the sorrow and the grief ~ it’s one of the few things I have done in my motherhood of these seven children. And I love to think about reuniting with them in heaven ~ it’s the only thing I have in my motherhood of these seven children that I get to look forward to. The mystery of heaven, the glory of heaven, the purity of heaven… some of my children are experiencing that right now, and I can only begin to wrap my brains around that.

Nancy Guthrie, one of my favorite authors, describes this at length (quoted from The One Year Book of Hope, pp 161-174):

Heaven. It is our fondest desire, and yet it is such a mystery, isn’t it? We lack the clarity or vocabulary to understand or describe heaven. The magnificence and marvels of heaven are beyond the capacity of our language and intellect. And really, anything less wouldn’t be heaven, would it?

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” ~ 1 Corinthians 2:9

If only we could long for heaven and long for Christ as we long for our son.
Suddenly I was longing for heaven and it seemed so real. And yet, if I was honest, it was not Jesus I was longing to see and enjoy most of all; it was Hope. But I didn’t want to admit it. not to myself, and certainly not to anybody else. It seemed to me a sad commentary on the inferior state of my love for Christ.
Should you feel guilty about wanting to see someone you love in heaven? I don’t think so. It is a desire God uses to awaken us to Himself. When someone we love is there, heaven becomes more real and our longing more vivid. It is a sacred longing. The fact that we long for them more than we long for Jesus reflects our current human limitations of taking in the beauty and magnificence of Jesus. In heaven, we will see Him in His fullness, and we will not have to choose  between focusing on the people we love and loving Jesus with our whole heart. We’ll be swept up with the chorus of heaven singing, “The Lamb is worthy” (Revelation 5:12). And together with those we love, we will look to Jesus.

The grace is, for me, a difficult place. Sometimes people have tried to comfort me be reminding me that Hope and Gabe are not in that grave — that they are in heaven. I know what they are saying — but my children’s bodies are in that grave and I loved their bodies! Bodies must mater to God because He will use the seed of our earthly bodies to make for us bodies fit for heaven. Out bodies will be remade for glorified minds that understand the mysteries of the universe and purified hearts that are free of bitterness and resentment, selfishness and suspicion. We will see each other as God intended us to be all along, before sin had its way in our hearts and bodies.

There is one place where heaven is always talked about — in the pages of a hymnal. Have you ever noticed how most old hymns end with a heaven verse — one that celebrates Christ’s coming return or what it will be like to cross death’s shores? O that with yonder sacred throng, we at His feet may fall, we’ll join the everlasting song, and crown Him Lord of all… Far, far away, not only could I see that “younger sacred throng,” I could see a familiar face in the midst of the throng! Someone I love is there, worshiping Jesus! I am closest to them when I do what they are doing and love Whom they are loving — when I fall at the feet of Jesus. They are at the feet of Jesus, singing praises to the Lamb who is worthy! But we don’t have to wait until heaven to join the everlasting song. We can join in here and now.

Grieve with us, share our sorrow, but don’t feel sorry for us. We are enormously blessed. A piece of us resides in heaven. Her absence leaves a hole in our hearts, but we are comforted to know we will one day see her again.

“He will remove all of their sorrows, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. For the old world and its evils are gone forever.” ~ Revelation 21:3-4

This life is not all there is, and neither is it the best there is.
The undercurrent of all Scripture — even the passages that give directions for how to live our lives on this earth — is preparation for and longing for heaven. To set your sights on heaven is to choose to anchor your thoughts and your heart’s desires beyond the ordinary things of earth. It is to choose to value what is valued in heaven, to be concerned with the concerns of heaven, and to enjoy what is delightful in heaven.

Longing for heaven is not a form of escapism. It is extreme realism.
Every hunger we have has been placed there by God. All are God-given, and he is not surprised when we try to satisfy these desires. Neither is He disappointed when we discover that we are  never satisfied. Discovering that we cannot satisfy our longings in the here and now forces us to reckon with the fact that we will never be satisfied in this life.

It is the separation that hurts. In heaven there will be no more separation. there will be nothing that separates us from each other or from God ever again. No more sorrow. No more crying. No more pain. No more curse. No more death. “No more” encapsulates some of  heaven’s sweetest gifts.

In a couple of weeks, it will (God willing) have been three years since my last miscarriage. Three years ago, my son Hosanna was snuggling in my womb, and we were praying with trepidation that God would save him. His very name, Hosanna, means “save, lord!” The realization that it has been nearly three years since death has been in our home is utterly astounding to me, extremely humbling.
I am in a transitional phase of life right now. Letting go. It isn’t easy. It is both good and difficult.
Remembering some of what Mrs. Guthrie said regarding letting go and moving forward (pp 409-414) brings bittersweet tears to my eyes. Back when I first read these words, I didn’t know if I would ever get to the other side. But now I can say that I know from experience that she is right. I’m there. Thanks be to God.

She wrote to her daughter in heaven, “I don’t want it to be another year; it just takes me further away from you. I want so desperately to feel close to you, to be able to hear you in my mind even if all I ever got to hear from you was a cry. I want to feel your skin and stroke your cheek. I want to wake up and find you here. But you are so far away and becoming even more distant in my memory, and it is so painful. I don’t know how to let you go and hold on to you at the same time. How can I stay close to you if I don’t stay sad? Sometimes I want to scream because I feel so torn. Forgive me for going on with life without you… it just keeps moving farther and farther away.“

Some days I wonder if the letting go will ever stop… I had to let go of her physical body, my dreams for her… her things… her room… my hopes for Matt to have a sibling…
The truth is, eventually, we will let go of everything in this life. Life is a constant barrage of having things and people we love ripped away from us. Every ripping away takes a piece of us with it, leaving us raw and stinging with pain.

Do you find yourself resentful that people no longer ask about your loss or struggle? Are you frustrated that they seem to have moved on and forgotten? Don’t be afraid they’ll forget. Don’t be afraid they’ll think you’re fine when you are still hurting deeply. It takes a conscious choice to turn conversations away from my pain, to stop trying to make sure everyone understands my hurt and has considered my feelings. but it is a step toward normalization, and a step closer to Christ.

There is a tyranny in grief. We realize at some point that we have to figure out how to keep on living, how to incorporate the loss into our lives. We want to feel normal again, to feel joy again. But the energy and emotion of grief keep us feeling close to the one we love or connected to what we’ve lost. Letting go of our grief feels like letting go of the one we love, leaving him or her behind and moving on. The very idea of it is unbearable.
We can make the painful choice to let it go — not all at once, but a little every day. We begin to find that we have the choice of whether or  not we will let ourselves sink to that place of unbearable pain when the flashes of memories and reminders of loss pierce our hearts. And we can begin to make that hard choice. We can begin to let go of our grief so we can grab hold of life and those who are living. but I think the only way we can do that is by telling ourselves the truth — that if we choose to let go of the pain, or at least let it become manageable, it does not mean we love the one we’ve lost any less. And it doesn’t mean that person’s life was any less significant or meaningful, or that we will forget.

When you love something or someone, the process of letting go is a painful one that takes some time, and it need not be rushed. Nor should it be avoided altogether. We feel the pain, mourn the loss, shed our tears, and with time we can begin to let go of the grief that has had such a hold on us. Perhaps it’s not so much that we let go of our grief, but more that we give our grief permission to lessen its grip on us.

Psalm 13
How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?
    How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
    and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
    light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
    lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

But I have trusted in Your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
    because He has dealt bountifully with me.

My Father has not forgotten me. We have trusted in Him, and our hearts rejoice in Him. We do sing to Him, because in all things (even in the grief), He has dealt so bountifully with us. We are so thankful.
Thank you for remembering our children, for knowing that we have ten children. Thank you for living with us through the storm. And thank you, too, for being with us in the peace that has followed the sorrow.

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The Thorn
by Martha Snell Nicholson

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee.”
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.
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The Head of the House

“The man is the head of the house, while the woman is the heart of the house. The definition of the head is that it is the thing that talks.

“The head of an arrow is not more necessary than the shaft of it; perhaps not so much. The head of an axe is not more necessary than the handle; for mere fighting I would sooner have the handle alone than the blade alone. But the head of axe and arrow is the thing that enters first; the thing that speaks.

“If authority means power (which it does not), I think the wife has more of it than the husband. If I look round any ordinary room at all the objects — at their colour, choice and place — I feel as if i were a lonely and stranded  male in a world made wholly by women. All the same, if a canvasser comes to urge the cause of the Conservative-Radicals, or of the Radical-Conservatives, it is I who ought to see him. If a drunkard has wandered into my front garden and lain down on the principal flower-bed, it is I who ought to inspect him. If a burglar wanders about the house at night, it is I who ought to parley with him.

“Because I am the head; i am the tiresome excrescence that can talk to the world.”

~Gilbert Keith Chesterton, Brave New Family, pp 143-144~

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Startling

“The startling and romantic thing about the sun is that it does not fall from the sky.”

~G.K. Chesterton~

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Rejoicing in my toil

Everyone to whom God has given wealth, and possessions, and the power to enjoy them,
and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil ~ this is the gift of God.
For he will not much remember the days of his life
because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart.
Ecclesiastes 5:19

“Blessings, like children, are not ethereal and weightless. Sometimes they feel like they come at you like a Kansas hail storm ~ they might leave a welt! But if you accept your lot and rejoice in your toil, God will give you the kind of overwhelming joy that cannot remember the details. Motherhood is hard work. It is repetitive and often times menial. Accept it. Rejoice in it. This is your toil. Right here. Those are their faces. Enjoy them. The days of your life are supposed to be full of things like this. But joy is not giddy. It is not an emotional rush ~ it is what happens when you accept your lot and rejoice in your toil. So rejoice in your children. Look them in the eyes and give thanks. You will not even remember the work of all this planting when the harvest of joy overwhelms you.” (Rachel Jankovic, Loving the Little Years p102)

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It’s Impossible… and Impossibly Wonderful!

“The task of parenting is simply impossible.
Any sane look at what is required of parents by God is completely and utterly overwhelming.
This is why the task must be undertaken
in grace, by grace, through grace, and because of grace.”

~Douglas Wilson, My Life for Yours p. 123~

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Hungry & Thirsty

It is said that he hungers and thirsts after righteousness ~ a double description of his ardent desire for it. Surely it would have been enough for the man to hunger for it, but he thirsts as well. All the appetites, desires and cravings of his spiritual nature go out towards what he wants above everything else, namely, righteousness. He feels that he has not attained to it himself and, therefore, he hungers and thirsts for it. And he also laments that others have not attained to it and, therefore, he hungers and thirsts for them ~ that they, too, may have it.

We  may say of this passion, first, that, it is real. Hungering and thirsting are matters of fact, not fancy. Suppose that you meet a man who tells you that he is so hungry that he is almost starving, and you say to him, “Nonsense, my dear fellow, just forget all about it! It is a mere whim of yours, for you can live very well without food if you like”? Why, he knows that you are mocking him! And if you could surprise some poor wretch who had been floating in a boat cast away at sea, and had not been able for days to moisten his mouth except with the briny water which had only increased his thirst ~ and if you were to say to him, “Thirst? It is only your fancy, you are nervous, that is all, you need no drink” ~ the man would soon tell you that he knows better than that, for he must drink or die! There is nothing in this world that is more real than hunger and thirst ~ and the truly blessed man has such a real passion, desire and craving after righteousness that it can only be likened to hunger and thirst. He must have his sins pardoned, he must be clothed in the righteousness of Christ, he must be sanctified! And he feels that it will break his heart if he cannot get rid of sin. He pines, he longs, he prays to be made holy! He cannot be satisfied without this righteousness ~ and his hungering and thirsting for it is a very real thing.

…C. H. Spurgeon, on the Fourth Beatitude…

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Bursting with good quotes

I know many of you read Loving The Little Years when it was released a couple years ago, but have you had the blessing of reading Fit To Burst yet? Oh my. Good words. It may have been one of the last books I read in 2012 (along with God Rest Ye Merry and Future Men) but I think it may yet be one of the many I also read in 2013. It simply cries out for repetitive reading, and thanks to the busy life the author has as a diligent mother herself, it is written in short, concise, easy-to-fit-the-reading-into-real-life sections. It can be done by reading in ten minute spurts… and let’s be honest, a lot of times, that is just about the maximum number of minutes a busy mom can dedicate to reading in any one sitting. 🙂

Here are a few things that I underlined; I know they’re taken out of context, but I hope they bless you nonetheless (whether you’re a parent or not).

Sacrifice isn’t really sacrifice if it involves only doing what you want.

Motherhood is not just a job, it is an identity. More importantly, it is an identity that begins and ends with giving.

Prioritize [your children’s] needs. Think their needs are more important than yours.

Your thoughts alone will not play into the memories of your children.

If you could be the most accomplished mother in the world on your own strength, it wouldn’t matter in the end.

It is so easy as mothers to look at the work we do on behalf of our families and resent that it is free to them… When we imitate Christ, we want to give what costs us much, and we want to give it freely.

Thank God things to bake have nothing to do with your salvation.

We don’t all need to be making biscuits, but we should all be doing something. We should be getting our hands into stuff to give. We should be blessing others, thinking of others, giving to others. And we should be doing it so freely that we don’t remember it, because we are willing to wait to see what is done with it.

…Apparently my expectations were not aware of what my life is actually like. My expectations were ignoring–intentionally, too–that I had spent the day with a toddler. And that a mountain of laundry had been tamed. My expectations ignored the dinner that was served. They pretended not to  notice the clean children or all the dishes that had been done that day. They turned a blind eye to the baby that was (at that time) growing inside. My expectations were a seriously mean boss.

When you are a mother and a homemaker, you are your own boss. The days are what you make of them.

Making a list that you cannot accomplish does not make you a better housewife.

The real goal here should be to illustrate for our children the attributes of both great leadership and faithful following. They should see us setting realistic (but  maybe difficult) goals, and working hard toward them. They should see us being visionaries who are anchored firmly in reality. They should see us steadily plodding, faithfully working on things in a realistic way. They should see us laboring hard to make a beautiful life for them while not losing sight of them in it.

At the end of our children’s lives, we hope it is worth a fortune. But at any given moment it is the little things that contain the gold.

Our opportunities to bless our children are often most present when we least feel like it.

You could cheerfully sing with the kids the whole way to church–laying down that little piece of gold that worshipping fellowship with them matters more to you than showing up on time.

We should not be correcting our children in the interest of making our lives easier (although it most certainly will). Correct them in the interest of making their lives richer.

Repetition should not be discouraging to us, it should be challenging.

Having room to improve is not something to be sad about, it is something that should encourage and inspire us.

Some incredible fast years of my life were made up of the longest days in history.

We need to be now who we want to be then. The future is happening right now. It isn’t just bearing down on us faster, it is going past us, too. Some of that future I imagined has already come and gone.

Fruit is a vehicle for seeds… As we work to bear fruit, we are also bearing the seeds of a lot of future fruit.

Part of [our] duty is to help our husbands love our children… You are to help him convey his love to them. When your husband goes off to work, he is loving his family. When he brings home a paycheck, he is loving his family. But if there is no mother taking that paycheck and translating it into hot meals, into clothes for the children, into the comfort of home, then the children may very well not feel that love from their father. It is a mother’s job to communicate the love that the father has towards his children. It is our job to translate.

Having a right relationship to the father of your children is one of the greatest gifts that you can give your children.

Preparing and serving food isn’t just one of the most repetitive jobs that we have, it is also one of the most powerful.

There is more to saying grace than just a nod to God as the provider of food… It means that we are asking Jesus to join us.

Christianity was simply assumed in our house, but it was always alive. It was always being applied to our lives, and not from a distance. There was always the understanding that if the Word of God teaches something, that’s what we believe. There was no negotiating with it, ignoring it, or simply choosing to not apply it.

Our faith should be a shield to protect our children’s faith.

[Faithful parents] cannot provide the roots for their child’s tree, but they can lend the strength of their own roots.

Grace is action… Grace is not a facilitator of sins, it is a solution to them.

You might be embarrassed when your friend is harsh to their child, but were you embarrassed when you did the same thing in the privacy of your own home? See that kind of thing. Apply it to yourself.

I know that what people see isn’t the complete story. I know that some of the times when our parenting is most honoring to God it doesn’t look like we are doing very well.

Oftentimes I will know it’s true that nothing’s wrong, but I feel so “stressed” because there is so much to do, so much that isn’t done. This kind of stress is simply the ambient noise of faithfulness… Some kinds of “stress” are simply what happens when  you are being faithful.

If the first thing that doesn’t go smoothly sets you off in a chain of fussing and demanding, blaming everyone but yourself, you need to recognize how your children are simply following you… They aren’t motivated to obey you cheerfully because you aren’t motivated to cheerfully obey God. You are indulging yourself, and so are they.

Good leadership always starts with the leader. It always starts with what you expect of yourself. If you are engaged in disciplining yourself, your children will know. They will mimic that. They will want to follow.

We make a point to discipline only when we have a biblical name for the offense, because we want our children to know that what we are doing is enforcing God’s law.

Being seriously about dealing with sin is honoring to God, because it is being serious about forgiveness.

When we ask God for direction on each of the little things, not only is direction provided, but progress is made. Sometimes, you need to ask God to show you each little foothold. That is not a sign that you are failing. It is not a sign that you will never find your way out. It is a sign that you are still on the journey, still obeying, and that you know who to ask for help.

Gratitude enables us to do our daily work as unto the Lord. It makes the little things that we do every day an offering to God.

We lift our hands in a gesture of lifting our worship up to God, but also a gesture of lifting the work of our hands up to Him. Asking Him to use the things that we do in the course of the week for the kingdom. We lift up the hands that have been in the sink with the dishes, hands that have been fixing hair and buttoning pants, hands that have been wiping off the table and driving to school, hands that have been changing diapers and tickling tummies, hands that have been busy holding other hands. These hands, this work, Lord, take them… And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is nothing better or more powerful that I could be doing with my hands.