This is the Day!

When you were young, did you ever sing the song "This is the Day"? We sang this song so much when I was growing up that I used to roll my eyes at it, but now this simple call-and-response song continues to pop in my head at least every other day, and it doesn't bother me in the least. The words "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" are straight from Psalm 118:24, and they always encourage me to do three things:

1) To not long for the future.

"I can't wait until my son is older." 

"It'll be so much better when this over." 

There is nothing wrong with thinking these thoughts (in fact, sometimes they give me the hope I need to persevere), but when I find myself wishing for what-is-to-come more than focusing on what-is-now, I'm most likely missing out on something. Every day is totally unique and I am witness to many wonderful moments. Every second I'm alive gives me the opportunity to shower God's love on someone. And no matter how bad things may be (or seem to be), blessings are all around me, if I just take the time to see them and remember...

2) To be grateful for today.

It is easy for me to wake up and tackle the day without giving God a single thought. But everything I have is from God, from the very breath that keeps my heart beating to the magnificent sun that gives us warmth, light, and energy! God made it all, including this very day. I need to remember to thank my Maker for His many gifts! Which leads us to #3...

3) To keep an eternal perspective.

If you read Psalm 118:24 in context, you will find that its author was writing about much more than a holy Carpe Diem.

Open to me the gates of righteousness, 

that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord.

This is the fate of the Lord, the righteous shall enter through it.

I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation.

The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. 

(Psalm 118:19-24 ESV)

The author rejoices because God has brought salvation to us all! God has made it possible for us to enter into His presence! That is why this day is amazing! That is why we should be celebrating! He is the source of our hope and joy! And so, more than being thankful for today, we should be thankful for the Maker of the day! He has given us Himself!

This is the day (this is the day)… The song goes round and round in my head, as I fight to keep my eyes open after a restless night with the baby, as I try to stay patient while my three-year-old is throwing a tantrum, as I look forward to summer vacation and a break from school, as I push back the darkness of depression and hopelessness. God has given me today, and everything I need to get through it. More than that, He has given me everything I need to enjoy it, despite circumstances. So let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Piano Lessons

I apologize for not writing since February. I had every intention to write, but March has been a whirlwind… seven sick children, a new baby born on the 4th, more sick children…

Then I found this essay amongst my writings, and it's a good one (if you don't mind my saying so). If I had a list of top 5 life lessons learned in my 39 years so far of living, this would be one of them: wherever God puts me, I am there for a reason.

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Piano Lessons

I was young.

I was naive.

I was in need of money.

All good excuses, but that’s what they were, nothing but excuses. I should have done better, even if I hated the job. 

Stuck in a closet of a room with a piano and a kid who was somehow coerced into coming was not my idea of fun. For thirty long minutes, I listened as the student stumbled through Bach and tripped through Mozart. Good thing Beethoven’s already deaf, I thought, because he would wish he was after hearing this rendition of the ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Finally, the hands of the clock gave me permission to release my prisoner. I watched through the window as the student ran to the awaiting car, away from my chamber of torture. Oh, how I too longed to feel the breeze on my skin and sunshine on my hair!

But tick tick tick, there was another student, another lesson, another few dollars to pay for gas.

I worked this job for five months, always hating it. I hated the fact that I had graduated from college with a degree in music but all my passion, ambition, and idealism were demoted to tinkling on a piano. I hated the fact that my working hours started when everyone else’s was just ending. Most of all, I hated the fact that not one of my students really, truly loved music, that it did not sing in their bones, course through their veins, or haunt their dreams. Music, for me, needed to be a matter of life and death. 

But I could not inspire my students anymore than a match can set fire to an ice cube. They came and they went, without consistency or commitment. Just as I was learning their names, they were gone. 

Yes, I was a cynic. I admit it now. I had graduated from Berkeley with a Bachelor of Arts in cynicism. But I was a dependable cynic. Every week, I was in that closet of a room with a piano, ready to teach.

In comes a new student. Anyone could see from his face that he would rather be on a baseball diamond or a football field than sitting at a piano. I didn’t even try Bach or Beethoven with him. I went straight to the Star Wars Piano Music for Beginners. He didn’t love it, but he at least worked through it. We’ll see how it goes next week, was my thought. If he comes back.

And he did come back. He must have been bribed. I could tell that he hadn’t practice. We tried the Star Wars music again. Okay, lesson done. We’ll see how it goes next week, I thought again, if he comes back.

The next week, he didn’t come back. I wasn’t surprised. (Did I mention that I was a cynic?) His time slot was filled by a new student, Barbara. Barbara was not what I expected. She was genuinely happy to see me. In her early 60s, retired, and ready to tackle something new, she came in with energy to spare. We started our lessons as all lessons started, and thirty minutes were over in a flash. Refreshing, to have a student who wasn’t dragged in by a herd of elephants, but I was hardened already. She won’t last, I told myself. I’ve seen it before: start lessons on a whim, but quit when you can’t play like a pro in four weeks.

I patted myself on the back when, four weeks later, Barbara didn’t come for her lesson.

Too bad, I enjoyed her, I thought. And too bad, I was stuck at work for thirty minutes and not getting paid for it.

I left my closet to find my boss.

“Hey, Rita, I forgot to tell you. About Barbara...”

Oh, I know, she decided she needed a different hobby, I sneered in my mind.

“…about Barbara... she died a few days ago.”

I stopped breathing. “...it was sudden, in her sleep, her daughter called...” none of that mattered. I returned to my closet, shut the door, and sat at the piano, the very piano where, only seven days ago, Barbara had sat and played. In all my idealism, I never thought that this would really become a matter of life and death.

And what were my last words to her?

“See you next week.”

Or, maybe... “Keep practicing!”

What would I have said instead, if I had known?

“Barbara, you are my best student. I enjoy our lessons immensely.”

Sounds overly sincere, the very opposite of cynical, but those were my thoughts, were they not?

But I chose not to express them. 

No, I chose not to give any more than the minimum required, when I should have given all of myself, tap danced on top of the piano for her, baked her lemon bars, brought in CDs to listen to together, our hearts melting at the genius of Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven. No, I had thirty minutes every week with Barbara, and I threw them away.

I saw her only as a student, a paycheck, another lesson, when she was so much more: a mother, a grandmother, a friend, a human being. She was an inspiration, to strive to learn piano when most people would say, “It’s too late!” She was a music lover, to desire the key to music-making when others would say, “You’re wasting your time.” But she didn’t waste her time, not on piano lessons, not at my piano. For she taught me, when I was full of longing to be elsewhere, full of pride and apathy, full of myself. She had less to regret in her last week of living than I had in my last thirty minutes of teaching. She was the match that set an ice cube on fire. 

My ice cube.

Soon after Barbara’s death, I was hired to teach at a local junior and senior high school. I told my boss that I had to resign because I couldn’t juggle both jobs. He mentioned something to me about Barbara.

“Yes, I’ll miss her,” I responded. Because I’ll never forget her.

My new job was rough, my new classroom a little more than a closet. Instead of a piano, I had desks, textbooks, and a white board, and instead of one unenthusiastic student, I had twenty at a time. But for fifty minutes a day, five days a week, I gave all of me. My enthusiasm permeated the room like perfume, my fervor set them on fire. Even the most apathetic of students could not discourage me. And after finishing one quarter with a class of seventh-graders, I sat down and wrote a ‘thank you’ note to each of my students. I did the same with my high-school choir at the end of the year, my music class the next year, my graduates at the end of my third year. Whenever I had the chance, I told my students how much I enjoyed them, what potential they held, and how they made me smile, whether it took one minute, thirty minutes, or fifty minutes to do so.

There were no excuses anymore.

Introducing… Dorcas!

Many years ago, I was a lonely ten-year-old whose family had just moved from New York to California. I soon met my first friend, a joyful, spunky, enthusiastic girl named Dorcas. She was a year younger than me and we had much in common– Chinese parents who were devoted Christians, a home in the suburbs, weekends spent at piano lessons and church gatherings.

A few years passed, and as life changes came our way, it seemed that Dorcas and I no longer had as much in common. Sadly, Dorcas's father passed away from liver failure when she was only 14-years-old. Dorcas went on to attend Stanford University, then married her college sweetheart, who was an engineer/entrepreneur and the cofounder and CEO of d.light, the maker of solar-powered, rechargeable, LED lanterns (check them out at www.dlight.com). Now Dorcas Cheng-Tozun, she and her husband lived internationally before settling back in California to raise their two children.

Somewhere along the way, Dorcas and I reconnected on Facebook, and that was when I discovered that Dorcas was an amazing writer! With a humble, honest, beautiful, clear voice, Dorcas shared on her blog about her faith, her life as wife and mom, and her time being a Chinese-American living in China. As I read about her unique and sometimes challenging life experiences, I found myself laughing, sighing, and sympathizing with her, and our lives once again shared a commonality– one that went beyond our young, junior high, suburban lives. Now, with her talent for writing about culture, Christian faith, and the world of small-business start-ups, she is a regular contributor for Inc.com, Christianity Today, The Well, and Asian American Women on Leadership. 

Then, almost a year ago, Dorcas made an exciting announcement! A publisher was interested in her book proposal, and she had signed a contract to write a book on start-ups and family life! And all while expecting her second child! Knowing that she was one busy mama, I hesitated to ask her for an interview, but I also knew that she had such wisdom and insights to share. So I contacted her, and she kindly found the time to answer a few questions for me. Read on (and find out where you can pick up a copy of her book!)

1) Tell us about yourself.

I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, but I have also had the privilege of living in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Kenya. My husband, Ned, and I are college sweethearts who have been married for more than twelve years. We have two adorable boys who have the wonderfully unusual combination of being part Chinese, part Turkish, and part Jewish.

For the first decade of my professional career, I worked in the nonprofit sector, supporting a number of different programs and policies to empower underserved communities. But I always loved writing and found excuses to write in my jobs, whether it was writing reports, proposals, or newsletters. When my first son was born five years ago, it seemed like as good a time as any to try pursuing writing full-time. It’s been a wild, unpredictable ride, and I have loved it.

2) What passions drive you in your writing?

I firmly believe that powerful stories can transform us on a very deep level. I am especially passionate about telling true stories that delve into the messiness of human existence—the awful, the beautiful, and the profound. It is from these stories that I think we can learn the most about who we are, what connects us as fellow human beings, and how God is redeeming each of us day by day.

3) What is the greatest lesson you’ve learned as a wife?

Being a wife has taught me the importance of prioritizing my husband’s flourishing, even when it has been costly for me. Ned has a vocational calling that is extremely demanding, and the entire family has had to sacrifice significantly to support him. 

It has been far too easy for me to grow resentful of these sacrifices without acknowledging that Ned’s flourishing is directly linked to my own. As he has grown in his leadership through his business, he has become a more mature and supportive husband and father. He sees what I have given up for him and is that much more willing to sacrifice for me. Ned has been the greatest supporter of my writing career, even though it’s probably one of the least stable careers I could pursue.

4) What is the greatest lesson you’ve learned as a mother?

In a single word: grace. Grace for myself, as I see all my flaws and imperfections emerging through the daily toil of managing sleep deprivation, tantrums, and adorable little people who have a mind of their own. I have learned far more about my limitations than my abilities after becoming a mom, which has pushed me to be more humble and to be more willing to ask for help. 

Grace for my sons, of course, who are trying to find their own way and establish their own identities in this world. Grace for my husband, who is a fantastic dad, even though his time with the family is limited. 

And grace for all the other moms out there, who are juggling kids and housework and vocation and community service and more. None of us are doing it perfectly, but we’re all trying our best, and we deserve to be acknowledged for our efforts.

5) What is the greatest lesson you’ve learned as a daughter of the King?

Like many kids of Asian immigrant parents, I’ve struggled for years with striving, achievement, people-pleasing, and perfectionism. Over the past decade or so, God has been slowly unraveling the false idea that I am only as good or valuable as what I can accomplish. He has been teaching me that my worth is in my identity as his beloved—just as the worth of every other individual is as his beloved as well. 

While this is a lesson that I am still very much in the middle of learning, in recent years I have felt far greater freedom to take risks, to try new things, and to be (somewhat) okay with failing. My life is so much richer when I am less burdened by the need to prove myself or earn others’ approval. I can instead lean into the unpredictable adventure that God has me and my family on.

6)  What is the best way for readers to get a hold of your book?

As of November 7, my first book, entitled Start, Love, Repeat: How to Stay in Love with Your Entrepreneur in a Crazy Start-up World (Hachette Center Street), will be available wherever books are sold! You can get the hardcover version, e-book, or audio book through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online retailers. Hopefully you’ll also be able to find it in your local bookstore.

As you can imagine, this book was inspired by my real-life experience. My hope is that this will be a helpful, practical guidebook for couples that are struggling to balance marriage and family with growing a business. And it’ll also tell you a lot more about the life lessons I’ve learned as the wife of an entrepreneur.

To read an excerpt from Dorcas's book, or to read Dorcas's other published works, visit her website, www.chengtozun.com. And thank you so much, Dorcas, for taking the time to answer my questions! Congratulations on your new publishing venture!

No Condemnation

Last night, as I was up nursing, I suddenly remembered a friend of mine. She had said that she needed to talk and would call me, but that was a week ago and I had forgotten all about it. So I took a minute to pray for her, and started to pray for myself, when I suddenly stopped.

If I had kept going, I would have prayed something like this: 

Dear God, I am so sorry for forgetting to pray. Please forgive me. I want to be better at this. I'm so bad at remembering these things.

But surprisingly, these are the words that came out instead: 

Thank you Lord for reminding me to pray for my friend. Thank you for your Spirit that connects us.

What happened?

For years, I had continually approached the throne of God believing that I was still covered in guilt and shame. Anytime I failed to live up to His standards, I would beat myself up, beg for forgiveness, and vow to do better next time. This cycle went on for years.

But the Bible says, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death." (Romans 8:1-2)

And only now, after so many years of knowing these words in my head, the truth has entered my heart and I am breaking free of my bad habits. I know that I am still going to fail at times, but God is not keeping a record of my wrongs in a book and waving a whip over my head for the times I mess up. He sees me as one redeemed by His Son; my wrongs are covered by Jesus's cloak of righteousness. My life's song is not one of guilt and shame; it is a song of God's love and mercy. 

For God so loved the world that He gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. ~John 3:16-17

I love these verses and I am thankful for this new understanding. Today is my birthday, and I am going to spend the day lingering on these words.

Fresh and Newborn

My newborn laughs in his sleep. It's a rare and surprising occurrence: his little voice suddenly cuts through the dark like a bright, twinkling star. Then, I can't help but laugh myself. His laughter is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

But my baby has a hernia on his right side, and when his intestines are in a kink he literally screams for relief. His cries pierce my heart, and there is little I wouldn't try to do to take away his pain forever.

No one (except the demented) looks at a baby and wishes pain upon him. We don't hope a sad and lonely future for him; we don't picture him someday becoming an alcoholic, a divorcé, or a soldier suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. 

No, there is something special about newborns. Whenever I go out with the baby, people melt and gush at the sight of the little person. This is because when we hold a newborn, we feel like we are stepping back into the Garden of Eden, where everything was fresh, new, untainted, and beautiful. Our relationships were whole and strong. All we knew was hope and love. We looked into the future and we saw only goodness. 

I understand now how my Father in heaven feels. He looks upon his Creation like I look at my baby. He wishes for us a future full of joy and goodness and days filled with laughter. So He did the most difficult act. To take away our pain. To renew our hope and love. And to make us like newborn babies again.

The Word Made Flesh

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. ~John 1:1, 14)

And as G. Campbell Morgan (1864-1945) said at the end of his sermon on this passage: 

Let me say in conclusion that we underrate the infinite value and meaning of this fact of incarnation when we speak of it as something in the past. The incarnation is an abiding fact, not something merely past. At this very hour that same Person is at the center of the universe of God, the risen, glorified and enthroned Man. And if you tell me that that is to state something that cannot be believed because it transcends the possibility of belief, I tell you that it no more transcends the possibility of belief than does the fact of the historic incarnation. If He came into human flesh, and tabernacled among us, and if while there He could speak of Himself as yet in the bosom of the Father, and as yet being the Word with God, so remember that today He abided for manifestation at the center of the universe of God, the risen and glorified Man, at once a prophecy and a promise, hearing which we dare believe that at last He also will perfect us, and we shall see Him, and be with Him, and be like Him.

I Am

I am a daughter, a sister, a niece.

I am a wife, a mother, an aunt.

I am a teacher, a musician, an artist, a writer. I

am a dreamer.

I am a giver and a peacemaker.

I am a crier and an empathizer.

I am a questioner and problem-solver.

I am a neighbor.
I am a mentor.

I am a friend.

But above all these

I am a sinner

Above all these

I was rescued by True Love

Above all these

I was given grace and mercy

And the chance to become who I was meant to be

a child of God

    a disciple of Jesus     

         an anointed of the Spirit

              a saint marching in    

                  a member of the Body

a follower 

of Christ

I AM

I am all that I am

because of Him.

White as Snow

My missionary friends spend part of the year in Israel and this past winter, they sent me pictures of their family playing in the snow, making snowmen and having snow ball fights. 

Snow! In Israel! I never knew that it snowed in that region! And when I saw the photos of white covering the ground, I was able to imagine Jesus, a young boy, watching the gentle flakes drift from the sky. He saw the landscape of his home change. The dirty ground became sparkling white. Stains were covered.

And that boy grew to be a man, the man who was God, yet died in our place. He alone changed our fates, erased our sins, and covered our stains. As the prophet Isaiah wrote, 

Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall like wool. ~Isaiah 1:18

Happy Palm Sunday to you! And as Good Friday and Easter Sunday approach, may the truth of Jesus's sacrifice become more tangible and more beautiful to you with each passing moment!

Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

(words by Elvina Hall)

This is my story, this is my song...

Knowing that September is going to be a busy month for me because of school and baby (and sleep deprivation), I decided to do something different. Most of the posts this month will actually be re-posts. I've learned some valuable lessons in the three-and-a-half years since I've started this blog, and I'm sure that most of you don't have the time to sit at the computer and read all that I've ever written. So I will find some of my favorite posts (that are not already in the side bar to the left) and share them with you.  Here's another one from 2011…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I realized it might be helpful to some of you to hear the story of how I met Jesus Christ. My pastor had advised me to type it up as an exercise, to prepare myself if ever someone asked me. If you've never written out your story, try it. You will find that yours is remarkable!)

I used to feel like I didn’t have a story, because I had no extraordinary meeting with God. When you’ve been going to church for your whole life, it’s easy to think that you know God. I knew what other people said about Him, but I didn’t really know Him. I gradually became acquainted with God, as my Savior, as my Friend, and as my Lover, slowly over 32 years. This is what my story is about. 

My dad is a pastor, and I attended church as soon as I left the hospital. The church building became my home away from home. On those long days when my dad had meeting after meeting, I would play ‘hide-and-seek’ and ‘sardines’ with my siblings, running up and down the stairs and in and out of closets. I knew all the best hiding places in a church, which are in the curtains, in the pulpit, and under the communion table. Our family would eat lunch and sometimes dinner there, and I practiced piano there. I remember coming up with games that involved crawling under the church pews on my belly. And I hated having to wear dresses on Sundays, because it’s easier to crawl under the pews with pants on! But I did learn other things besides  ‘hide-and-seek’. I also knew every memory verse, every Bible story,  every hymn sung in church. There was no question in Sunday School that I couldn’t answer.

Except one.

When I was ten, a teacher asked me, “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Savior?”

I had always assumed that I was going to heaven, just like my parents, just like everyone who goes to church. I finally learned that I had to choose for myself, that all the things I did on Sundays were not the way to heaven. I realized that I was a sinner, even if I went to church and was basically a ‘good’ person, because no matter how hard I tried, I could never be perfect.  My sin separated me from God, my Creator, and separation from Him equals death. So I was dead, and would remain dead, unless I accept Christ’s gift, that He died on the cross, in my place, taking my penalty. All I had to do was accept that gift, but I had to do it myself.

And so, that day, I accepted Jesus as my Savior. Then I knew that I was guaranteed eternal life in Heaven with Him.

As a new believer, I tried to do everything right. Sunday School teachers told me that I would become a new person, so I prayed about my short temper and asked God to help me with that. The teachers told me to read the Bible everyday, so I tried to do that. God did reveal Himself to me in little ways (my bad temper did get better), but my life seemed very much the same. I was so confused, asking myself “What more am I suppose to do? How can I be a better Christian when I already go to church and do all these things?” There was suppose to be some kind of growth in my relationship, but I didn’t feel it happening. So I strove to be a better person, and as I grew older, I also started teaching Sunday School, playing piano in the service, and leading the youth group. I guess I felt that I must owe God something for what He did for me. I would think back to the day I made my decision to follow Jesus, and try even harder to keep my end of the ‘bargain’. I knew what I needed to do to live a good Christian life, but sometimes I failed, and then I would call myself a bad Christian. At that point, I was so busy in the church that I had a hard time really listening to God. To many people, I looked solid, but there were many holes in my faith. But God never turned from me, even when I entered my college years and started questioning Him as new philosophies tried to fill those holes. He waited for the day when I was ready, ready to hear Him.

That day came when I was twenty. All it took was a sermon series on God’s love (not, “For God so loved the world…so He sent His son…and you must do this to respond”, but “God loves you! He enjoys you! He wants to be with you, and that’s why He sent His son!”) That was the first time I ever ‘heard’ someone say that God enjoys me, and that all He wants is a relationship with me. His entire motivation for sending Jesus to the cross was love! And He wants to give me more good things, beginning with the gift of His Son. I finally understood that ‘eternal life’ was not something that happens when I ‘go to Heaven’, but something that happens NOW, because the cross took away the gap between God and me, restoring the loving relationship between my Maker and me. And I can still do things to serve Him, but my love for Him is the foundation from which the service must flow.

For the first time in my life, my heart felt whole. The holes were gone. My self-image changed. I saw God not as the ‘Judge’, but as the ‘Friend’ and ‘Lover’ who accepted me, scars, filth and all. And it felt good knowing that my life’s goal is not working to get God’s attention. Sometimes I still fall into that trap. I get focused on reading the Bible as another thing on my checklist, instead of a time to be with God, my Friend. I volunteer for things because I know I should, not because I genuinely care. Sometimes I get so busy that I forget that I need to be still and listen. I need to hear him call me ‘Beloved’, which means that I need to

just

be

loved.

This is what I’m working on now; this is the sin that still creeps in, and prevents me from feeling like I’m truly abiding in Christ.

And so, for the first ten year of my life, I knew ‘of’ God. The second ten years, we were acquaintances. The third ten years, we’ve been friends. Now I’m thirty-two, and I want to know Him as my Lover. I want to fall completely in love with him,  and be like an old-married couple with Him. I want to live in the knowledge that God’s Son on the cross was not a one-time act of love, but a symbol of ALL the love He has for me and wants to give me.

(and for those of you who are parents, I want to say, "Don't assume that bringing your child to Sunday School is enough. And don't assume that having a child that serves in the church is enough. Talk to your children about Christ, when you are walking, when you are eating, whenever you are together!") 

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.

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.