Not Just Spectators

This hit me during last Sunday's wedding ceremony.

Baptisms and weddings. They are meant to be public events. Is this just so we can celebrate with our friends? No.

Because our faith and our marriages are not private things (despite what some may say.) How we grow in our walk with God affects everyone around us to some degree. How our marriages flourish or die affects our families, our friends, and our church body.

And so, when we gather to witness a baptism or wedding, we are, in fact, actual witnesses of this person or couple making a commitment. The person (or couple) is saying to those present, "I am announcing to all of you this promise I am making." Which means that those of us in the Body have a responsibility to help, encourage, and sometimes hold accountable, these people as they strive to stay true to their commitment. 

And so if a brother or sister in Christ seems to be turning from his/her faith, we should gently and lovingly ask about that. If there is obvious sin in that person's life, we should address it, rather than turn a blind eye. If a married couple is struggling, we should strive to help them heal wounds before the struggles lead to an affair, abuse, or divorce. And I don't mean that we should only take action when things are bad. Older couples can invite younger couples over for dinner. Retired men and women can spend their days mentoring young Christians. Middle-age people should attend college and high school group gatherings. Any-age Christians should volunteer with children in Sunday school classes, Awana clubs, and Vacation Bible schools. In other words, we are not spectators. Despite what culture preaches, we are not merely individuals, constructing our own truths, doing what we feel is right, and leaving others to do the same.

I now have photos of four couples on my refrigerator. I cut them out from wedding invitations or save-the-date postcards, and they remind me to pray for these young couples who are just starting the journey of life together as partners. The Body of Christ cannot grow in a healthy way if we do not strive to care for all parts of the Body.

Follow Me

Mediocre.

Somedays, I feel mediocre at best. Mediocre mom, mediocre wife, mediocre teacher, mediocre musician…

On Saturday, as I prepared some music for a Sunday wedding, I felt mediocre. This was to be the wedding of two stellar musicians, with stellar musical families and friends, and I was trying to improvise love songs off lead sheets the day before.

I arrived at church on Sunday still feeling mediocre. Seeing another woman, due in September two days after me, looking tall, skinny, and stunning, reminded me of my mediocrity. Listening to the worship team on the stage added to that feeling. I was slowly and unknowingly sinking into a tar pit from which I would have difficulty escaping, if not for Simon, called Peter.

Simon Peter, a mediocre, fiery, impetuous fisherman, who always seemed to say the wrong thing. 

Simon Peter, called by Jesus to be one of the Twelve. And even the Twelve couldn't help but fight for supremacy, wanting to be the best disciple, the greatest in the kingdom, the most-loved of Jesus. (See Mark 10:35-44)

Simon Peter, who denied Jesus three times, after he had boasted that he would NEVER leave Jesus's side.

Yet Jesus still said to Simon Peter after His resurrection, "Follow me. Follow me even to your death." Peter, still very much his mediocre self, responded with, "Lord, what about that guy, John?" 

Jesus's answer? It's not about John, or Luke, or any other disciple. It's about you and your love for me. You must follow me. (See John 21:21-22)

And that was how I was called out of my tar pit, called to be like Simon Peter-- not to be the best, not to boast and compare-- called to follow, today, tomorrow, the next day, down my own path, whether I feel mediocre or not.

Redefining Normal

A few weeks ago, a friend was over with her three children for a playdate. This friend had grown up in an interesting environment; she was raised Quaker among Berkeley hippies. Never one to call herself typical, she now finds herself living in middle-class suburbia and asking questions that she never even thought to ask before she was a mother.

"What do you tell your kids about modesty?" she asked me as our conversation meandered from karaoke contests to family life. "At what age do you stop allowing your children to bathe together?"

The answer that came to me on the spot was, "We teach the children about privacy, especially between genders. After the age of five, we don't allow brothers and sisters to bathe together. But I don't mind if my girls are in the room when I'm changing my clothes."

"Basically," I continued, "we teach them what other people would expect them to do. They can't go to another person's house and just walk in on someone in the bathroom. If we were living in among hippies, if might be a different matter."

At the time, I thought it was a good answer, at least in the context of our conversation. But now I'm smacking myself on the forehead, because, really, how much of what I do is considered 'normal' anyway?! I don't parent based on what the rest of the world does, but on what the Bible teaches! It was a missed opportunity to discuss with my friend how we are both atypical parents, but in very different ways.

Sometimes I have to tell my children that what we do day in and day out and consider 'normal' is not 'normal' to the rest of the world. As my children grow older, I find myself having more of these conversations. The day will come when my son asks, "When can I have my own iPhone and Facebook account?" My daughter will want to go to the Prom or buy a bikini. And I will have to talk again about how we are not 'normal' people.

Or maybe, by then, I will have taught them well enough that they will have a new sense of 'normal'. I pray that as my child grow into young adults, they will have the courage and wisdom to make a stand as Godly, atypical, people.

The Day In Between

For us, today is just the day between Good Friday and Ressurrection Sunday, the day we cook and bake, dye or stuff eggs, or travel.

But for the disciples, who had just witnessed the death of Jesus the son of Joseph, today was the day to mourn the loss of their hopes and joys and dreams. They had lost a friend AND a cause. Imagine the jumble of emotions they felt.

Some of you don't need to imagine.

You yourself have just witnessed the passing of a loved one, after months of praying for his/her recovery.

Or you've worked so hard to graduate from university, only to find yourself still unemployed.

Or you were hoping to marry a certain person, and just found out that you weren't.

Or you are mourning a child who has grown up and rejected you, when you've done all you can to love him/her over the years.

Then there is little I can say over the Internet to bring you comfort. You may feel that this Easter is not a day of celebration. But do remember that Easter morning was unexpected for the first disciples. The God of Hope, Love, and Joy can resurrect your life too.

Death of a Friend

This is a post from two years ago, but it still holds much meaning for me….


Sometimes when I think of Christ dying on the cross, I feel removed from it. God came to earth some two thousand years ago because He loved us, suffered horrifically for my sake... my brain goes through the motions. I sing the songs, I nod my head... I know the message, I've heard it since I was a baby. But truly understanding what an amazing gift the cross was, that takes effort.

Even watching movies don't help. I cry just thinking about the whipping, the pain, the shame that the man Jesus went through. No person should have to go through that. But then again, I cry when a cat gets hit by a car, though I know that it's not the same thing.

Then I think about losing a loved one... what would it be like to lose a spouse, a parent, a child, a best friend? I don't really know, I haven't yet experienced that in my young life. But I can imagine the loss. And I can imagine, what if a loved one died in my place? What if there was some extraordinary circumstance in which I was suppose to die, but my father, or my husband, or my son, volunteered to die in my stead? What if my sister, or my mother, or my girl friend, was punished because I lied, or got angry, or cheated?

Now my heartbeat quickens. My breath grows more shallow. But the tears don't come... not yet. I'm still in disbelief, in awe of the thought that someone I love would give himself or herself up so that I could live. I picture my best friend on a cross, naked, suffering, dying for no reason other than to love me... then the tears come.

And then my heart truly comprehends what happened two thousand years ago, when the Son of God chose to die on a cross for me. Good Friday is not about a moment in history; it is about the death of a friend.

Trading the Spotlight for a Heart of Worship

For the past few days, I've been trying to write an article on femininity. I don't know if I've succeeded (it's a tough subject) but it did make me think about my senior year in college, when classmates were applying for fellowships and graduate schools and performance programs in Europe.

I could have done the same. I could have continued living from spotlight to spotlight, eating and breathing beautiful, classical music, drinking champagne at performance receptions, hearing the applause from the crowd after a moving night of melodic extravaganza.

But there was something about the performance world that bothered me. Even my friends in the choir, who would have happily performed on a street corner for a flock of pigeons, did not understand how I felt when we sang the words "Hallelujah!" and "Agnus Dei". To them (all of whom were not Christians), music was the highest calling. They sang for the beauty of the harmonies, while I sang for the Creator of the harmonies. No matter how much emotion my fellow singers put into a piece of music, it was always lacking something for me.

It's been years now since I've sung in a choir, and I do miss it. I miss the challenge. I miss a cappella singing and the intensity of blending voices together. But I've found something better. This morning, the children's choir sang "Hosanna! Hosanna! You are the God who saves us, worthy of all our praises!" I had taught them the sign language for the chorus, so people would have a visual for the words and, I hope, gain a deeper appreciation for the lyrics as they sang them. As the children sang and signed, my heart was lifted. Sixteen little voices in unison (when they weren't off-key) filled me with more joy than a symphony and a hundred-voice chorus could. I may never sing in Carnegie Hall, and that's okay. I know where I'll be singing for all eternity.

We are Blind Beggars

I received news last week of another friend on the road to divorcing her husband. Through  the years, we have gone through the season of graduations, the season of weddings, the season of babies, and now, I feel, we are going through the season of divorces. I cried at the news.

Some will say that I am naive to believe that God can fix broken marriages, no matter what. 

I say, I would be naive to believe that Christians never go through hard times, but there is no naivety in believing that God can carry us, broken marriages and all, through those hard times.

But how do we fix them, then? What is the answer?

I don't know. Because you are talking about people, and people are not a system; they are unpredictable and they make choices. And it was the sum of many, many choices, made through many, many moments, both joyful and difficult, that led to the point where one or two people said, "I want to end this now."

And when one is in the midst of a broken family, or a broken body, or a broken heart, how does one pray? What does one ask for?

I don't know that either. Sometimes the fog is so thick that one can only cry as one stumbles about, blind.

How perfect that today's sermon was about Jesus and the blind beggars.

These blind men lived for most (or all) of their lives with a physical hardship, and the ostracization and ridicule that went along with it. There were no medical answers or easy solutions for fixing their problems, and they knew it. When Jesus came near, the men did not tell him what to do, but simply shouted, "Heal me!"

Oh, how often am I the blind beggar? But how often do I feel the need to have a solution before I pray for help? Asking God to "Heal me!" seems too simple. I want to be able to say, "Lord, give me the patience to listen to my husband, and the words to respond." So sometimes, when I don't know exactly what to ask for, I don't pray. I don't ask. I don't beg.

I must stop doing that. I was reminded today during communion that it is not what I do, but what Jesus did on the cross. In the case of my friends' divorces, when I feel that there is so much to say and yet, I don't know what to say, I must remember that Jesus can heal whether or not I know the solution.

And only He knows what a person needs. One blind man needed spit and warm hands on his eyes (Mark 8), another needed mud (John 9). A third was healed with words alone (Mark 10).

Who else but God can heal like that?!

Whether it is blindness, brokenness, or a lack of words, nothing can stop God's love and power. Whatever hard times you are going through right now, NEVER forget this:

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loves us. 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, 

neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, 

nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us 

from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~ Romans 8: 37-39

Instruction, Grace, and Love

Parents have a big role. Just like all humans are born with a God-shaped hole in their souls, children are born with mom-shaped and dad-shaped holes in their hearts. We, the parents, are the only ones who can fill those holes. And we, the parents, in many ways offer our children their first glimpses at the character of God. Not only are we our children's protectors and providers, we are their source of unconditional love.

Which is why criticism from parents can be so painful. The wrong choice of words and the wrong tone can convey to a child, "I don't love you because of this." But then again, if we veer in the other direction-- constant praise for good deeds done-- we can still convey the wrong message, "I love you when you do good things," or "You are perfect and can do no wrong."

And so we must walk the fine line of instructing our children without crushing them, knowing when to show grace and when to show justice with the intent to love, in order to grow them into the adults that God desires for them to be.

There is no how-to for this. Every child, every family, and every situation is unique. The following list can be helpful, but becoming a better parent also requires praying and listening to the Spirit's prompting. Sometimes a child needs to hear, "That was wrong. Let's fix it," and sometimes he/she needs to hear a simple, "It's okay. I still love you." We are, after all, all people in need of a Savior, and all 'works in progress'. And as you will see, none of the suggestions listed below require your child to change, but they do require you to reexamine your heart.

1) Make a list of your child's strengths and weaknesses.

Part of criticism is expecting the other person to be like you (this can happen often in marriage). We assume that the other person thinks, sees, and feels as we do. And when parenting, we naturally want our child to share our interests, our tastes, our talents, and our values. But what if your child is not athletic like you? Or mathematical? Or outgoing? It helps to first clearly see the person God created your child to be. Then, you can appreciate that person, both for his/her strengths and his/her weaknesses. Also, with that understanding, what could slip out of your mouth as a criticism ("Why can't you just understand this?") can be reworded as instruction ("I know math is sometimes hard for you. Let me draw a picture to show you what I mean.")

2) Don't use "absolutes". Don't call your child names. Don't compare.
"Absolutes" are words like "never" and "always". Rarely are statements using "absolutes" true. And calling your child a name makes a judgment on his/her being more than his/her action. If you need to correct a child, choose words that describe what he/she did, not who he/she is. (Example: "You did not tell me the truth." Not "You are a liar.") And lastly, comparing a child to a sibling, another person's child, or even to yourself creates a hierarchy and implies that you love the other person more than your child.

3) Emphasize the learning, and that everyone, including moms and dads, makes mistakes. 
Learning is a process, and how one arrives at the goal is just as important as the goal itself. A perfect test score should be celebrated just as much as a hard night of studying or an improvement from an average score to a better score. And it is true that in life, we all make mistakes from time to time. Allow your child to make his/her share, and call them what they are-- mistakes.

4) Don't jump to conclusions when you see the end result. Try to determine how your child got there.
This one piggy-backs onto #3. Once I found my toddler in the bathroom with toilet paper all over the floor and in the toilet. Seeing the mess made me want to scream, but I knew that my daughter was trying very hard to copy what she had seen her siblings do. A child's logic often works differently from an adult's logic. Try to see life through their eyes. Then take the time to show them how you would like things to be done.

5) Practice loving no matter what. 

It's easy to say, but hard to do. How well do you show unconditional love to your spouse? Your parents? Your siblings? Your neighbors? And do your children hear you say loving words about those people, or complaints and criticisms? If there is a difficult relationship in your life, you maybe be able to talk about it with your child as he/she grows older. "Sometimes it is hard for me to be around your grandfather, but I still try to love him. I forgive him. I help him. I won't leave him be do things by himself." If your child knows that you are treating others with this kind of love, he/she will be confident in your love for him/her.

6) Talk much about grace and forgiveness.

A heart that is truly humble cannot be critical. Acknowledge your own failings. Share stories, if applicable. I was an impatient, short-tempered little girl, and when I see my daughter get impatient or short-tempered, I tell her how I prayed for God to help me, and how I had to learn to control myself. Say "sorry" to your children. Apologize if you slip into 'critical' mode. The best thing you can do is to point your child to his/her Father in heaven, the one who never falls short. Remember:

Which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asked for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! (Matthew 7:9-11)

and

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. (James 1:17)

Because, though we are a representation of God in the lives of our children, we are still a mere shadow of Him. In all you say and do, turn your child's face to the Creator and Perfecter of our faith. And keep this goal in mind-- that your child will know that though he/she  is a sinner, through God's love and grace he/she can be a new creation.