Growing Weary

The weather is warming and the sun is shining. I should be happy as I'm hanging laundry on the line but the only words I hear in my head is "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity." (Ecclesiastes 1:3)

Because the world is full of pain. Two of my friends are dying from cancer. Other friends are dealing with the loss of a baby or other loved ones. Children are in need of food and homes and safety. And here I am hanging laundry!

Sometimes I want to ditch the mundane things and focus all my energy on helping the world. Having a clean house is small beans compared to the amount of filth in the world that needs cleaning up. But I know that taking care of my family is no light matter and if I just keep plugging away at what I do everyday, I can make a small difference.

Lately, though, I've been feeling more like giving up. The pain is too much. I am an ant trying to move a mountain. I know that it is not my task to save the world, but I can't help but feel the burden of grief.

"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." These words from Galatians 6:9 are what is bolstering me right now. It may be hard to see the difference today, but in the end, the little I do does matter.

Summer Declutter

I'm sorry I haven't blogged much this summer. Between potty-training one child and sleep-training another, taking kids to swim lessons and drum lessons, outings to the beach, the pool, the fair, and friends' houses, and lesson planning for high school (!), I haven't had time to sit down and write.

But we were home today, and so I told the kids, "It's time to clean your rooms and closets!" They groaned, of course. But there is something satisfying about throwing away useless and broken things and rediscovering hidden treasures, and seeing the finished room look tidy and organized.

Half an hour into the cleaning, my middle daughter comes to me.

"Can I have some new batteries so Emet can play with this?"

She was holding her My Little Pony remote control airplane, once so dear to her that she hid it in her closet so that her younger siblings could not get their hands on it. And now, she was willingly sharing it. Joy filled my heart to see my daughter act so lovingly. Some of it is maturity. And maybe some is wisdom. Maybe my daughter realized that what was so precious at the age of seven isn't precious now at the age of ten.

But then entered my seven-year-old. He was holding long-forgotten toys and arguing with the two-year-old because he didn't want his little brother to even look at them. Screams filled the air as I rushed to mediate. There is no convincing my seven-year-old why he should share with his brother, and maybe someday, he too will see what is most important. 

And really, don't I go through times like that too? I get impatient when the potty-training and sleep-training are not going well, because I want my time and my sleep. I grow anxious as I think about my oldest entering high school and how I'm going to make sure he does everything "right". Just the other day, I became hot and frustrated because my daughter misplaced her new goggles after only three swim lessons. I'm thinking, "What a waste of money! And she hardly used them!" instead of understanding that it is a minor thing in the light of eternity.

Jesus teaches in Matthew 6:19-21,

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

So, I ask myself… where is my heart? Is it time to do some cleaning and decluttering myself?

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.

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!") 

No Love in Me

Lately, many of my thoughts have expressed themselves in song. In the past three months, I've written five songs, which is much more than my usual song output. Even my husband says, "You're a writing machine!" I sit at the piano, and somehow, it comes out in music.

My most recent song is based on one single thought I had during communion last Sunday.

What if we looked as ugly as our sin?

I would be afraid if everyone could see me for the person I truly am, with my dark and twisted insides. It is God's grace that they can't. Any goodness, joy, peace, kindness, or love in me can only be from God. 

No Love in Me

If my outside looked like my inside

Would you still want me?

If my lips echoed my thoughts

Would you stay?

I don't mean to deceive you

Let me tell you the truth

There is no love in me

Though my intentions seem good

They're never pure

With my right hand I give freely

With my left I take away

The person you admire

Is not deserving of admiration

There is no love in me

I'm a master of disguise

I am an actor

I'm a weaver of words

A storyteller

Behind my many masks

Is just a shadow

There is no love in me

Apart from the fire,

I am nothing

Without your breath,

I am empty

I may speak like angels

I may move mountains

I may know all things

Or die for a cause

But what are these for

If I do them on my own

There is no love in me

But yours 

Good News on Good Friday

As I made my way to the communion table at the Good Friday service this evening, I was stopped by a dear friend.

"I need prayer," she said with tears pouring from her eyes. "I don't feel like I deserve this right now."

But isn't that the whole point of His death? Sometimes, it feels good to take communion and pray, "God, I like walking beside You" or "God, I've learned so much from Your word this past month." But what makes the Good News good is that it is all about God, not us.

How wonderful to take the bread and the cup and know with complete understanding that we are not deserving of it!

Grumpy Mama Bear

The last two weeks have been hard. Never has my whole family been sick at the same time. I was the least sick of the bunch, but when there are six other sick people in a house, the least sick one is the one doing most of the nursing.

It's been day-to-day for me. At night, I would lay my head on my pillow, and just as I start drifting off, someone would cry or cough. This would the pattern throughout the night. Then in the day, I would try to maintain some order in the house, while teaching or entertaining the healthier children. And I wish I can say I've been successful at doing this graciously, but weariness and stress has made me a rather grumpy Mama Bear. (At this point, my husband would jump in with "'Mama Baird', you mean." After ten years of marriage, I can't help but think in puns too.)

This morning was one of those mornings. The baby hadn't slept hardly, and was crying in pain and frustration. I was groggy, slow, and hungry. The older children were playing happily, but a little louder than I would have liked. Then I found the baby having a private tea party in the potty. Water was all over the floor. And this was after a week's worth of lectures on keeping that door closed. When my husband came to kiss me good-bye, I hardly gave him a peck.

"I have a right to be grumpy!" I told myself. "I'll take the long-suffering, but I don't have to do it joyfully or quietly!"

Now where in the Bible does it say that?!?!

Good thing we're still studying Philippians. I try to picture Paul, in prison, being glad! A house full of sick people is a prison-of-sorts, but I should have many more reasons to be glad than an innocent man in prison!

As soon as I gave up my right to be grumpy, my whole day changed. I made and served breakfast with joy. We had a wonderful day of school, ending with our mail-woman delivering our package of Painted Lady butterfly larvae and ladybug larvae! My mother-in-law dropped by for a little bit, and I'm so glad her morning was blessed by a visit to a happy home, instead of a dreary sickhouse.

But there is one thing left to do to redeem my grumpy-Mama-Bear day: give my husband a big smooch as soon as he steps through the door tonight!

Screwtape Comes A-Calling

And so it begins. Three days into the New Year and my resoluteness was already put to the test.

The past few months, I've been going through my stuff, giving away redundancy and unnecessities, fighting the good fight against the quick and easy sin of materialism. My resolution this year is to sacrifice by not buying new clothes just because I want new clothes.

Then yesterday, I was at the thrift store, looking for used plates, when I saw, almost hidden under a bunch of shoes, a pair of light brown Uggs.

I'm not usually into name brands, but I know that $8 for a pair of fuzzy boots is a good price. And I know that $8 for a pair of quality, warm, Australian boots is a GREAT price.

So I bought them, as a gift to my sister-in-law, I told myself, because her old pair had worn through and been recycled into a hamster's snuggly cave. We drove straight from the store to her house, knocked on her door, and... no answer.

And so we went home, and I brought the boots into the house, then, out of curiosity, put them on. I admired myself in the mirror, wore the boots around the house as I did my chores, and I thought, "These are nice boots! I could use a newer pair. They're not exactly like my old pair. And they're Uggs!" And the best part was, my sister-in-law didn't even know the boots existed!

Where did these thoughts come from?!??! (don't answer that, it's a rhetorical question) All of a sudden, I felt like a character in The Screwtape Letters (by C.S. Lewis). The enemy had snuck past my blockades and attacked me at my weakest point! I know I'm sounding overly dramatic but the battle inside me was very real. Back and forth... back and forth... I took the boots off, then put them on again, then put them aside, just to go back and look at them again.

Long story short, I, not Screwtape, was the victor in the end. I told myself that I didn't need the boots, end of argument. A few minute later, the phone rang, and it was my sister-in-law, and I told her about my find, and that the boots were hers to keep. She kindly tried to convince me to keep them for myself, but I refused because she needed them more than me.

Yes, the battle was over. Love for my sister-in-law won out. It's a small step, but a step in the right direction.

And whenever I see her wear those boots, I will not envy her. Instead, I will remember that the battle is done, but the war continues. Screwtape will come a-calling again, I know.

Stuck at the Swings

There's a phenomenon with which many moms are familiar, what I call 'stuck at the swings'. It's when you're at the park with one or two other moms, finally getting a bit of adult conversation after a week of being in the house, and all your child wants to do is swing.

"Mommy, I want to swing."

"How about the slides instead? You like the slides."

"No, Mommy, I want to swing. Can you push me?"

"Okay, for just a minute."

"Higher, Mommy, higher!"

And while you're at the swings, pushing your gleeful child (which really is a lovely picture and probably the right thing to do), you look across the playground at the other moms. They're actually conversing, you say to yourself with longing and envy. Why can't my child play by himself, like all the other children are doing? Why can't my child hate the swings, just for today? We come to the park to play with other children, and all my child wants to do is swing! The thoughts go on and on, rolling into a giant snowball of bitterness.

That's how I've been feeling lately... the longing, the envy, the giant snowball of bitterness... all of it. I feel like I've been missing out on life as I am at home, breastfeeding the baby in the back room, trying to rock her to sleep. Or if we are out and about, as I'm watching the baby crawl and explore, trying to keep her from eating everything she finds on the ground. And meanwhile, the conversation continues elsewhere.

So, there, I've unburdened myself. And I do know that there is much repenting that I need to do on my part, to melt this giant snowball of bitterness. First, I will go apologize to my husband. Then we'll see where the Spirit leads me... maybe there are more people to whom I need to apologize. And then I hope and pray that my joy returns, because I really, really, really do love the life God has given me. And this is only for a season, a very short and precious season at that.

And a note to those of you who have never been 'stuck at the swings'. If you see a mom, alone, faithfully pushing a child on a swing at the park, go talk to her.

My Watch, the Idol

I lost my watch last Wednesday. It was on when I went to bed, and gone when I woke up.

I wasn't panicking too much, but I was worried that I would start being late for everything. And we had a field trip to go to on Friday-- how will I manage to walk around without a watch?! How will I know when to eat lunch and leave for naps and all that?!

Well, I haven't been late (not any later than I usually am). And we did okay on the field trip. I trusted my internal clock and read cues from the children. We ate when we needed to, and left when we needed to. Maybe there's something to this...

I felt freer without a watch. I found myself enjoying my time more. Instead of constantly checking my watch, I was looking at my surroundings and listening to my children. Yes-- I was listening to my children! Not with a 'uh-huh', but really listening, and noticing, and interacting.

Maybe I've been relying too much on my watch. Maybe I've made an idol of my schedule, allowing it to take priority over people. Maybe getting short-tempered because we weren't going fast enough, or frustrated when my plans went awry, were signs that I had forgotten that love is patient, love is kind. Love, which is not scheduled or bound by time, should be my time-keeper.

I still haven't found my watch. I'll probably need to buy a new one. But for now, I'm going to go as long as I can without one.

Perfectionism vs. Perfection

"It's not about being perfect, it's about being better."

I'm a perfectionist by nature. I don't do anything unless it's worth doing. Then I jump in 110%. For me, if it's not a success, then it's a failure. "Do or do not, there is no try." That's me.

Unfortunately, that attitude creeps into my spiritual life. I beat myself up if I lose my patience after vowing to be more patient, or missing a day of reading the Bible after a new resolution to read the Bible everyday. I wonder why my heart still wanders away from God and towards the World. I get discouraged, and I want to give up.

But, I am reminded, "It's not about being perfect, it's about being better."

That is what my pastor said today. Ups and downs are normal. As long as there are signs of growth, I am better than I was, when I didn't know Christ. As long as I am bearing fruit, the fruits of the Spirit, no matter how small they may be, I am better than I was. As long as I allow my heart to be soft and continue to grow in my understanding of God, I am better than I was. As long as I stay humble, and stop trying to attain goodness on my own strength, I am better than I was. It is not about 'being good' and checking off a list. God is refining me, polishing me, pruning me, removing sin (like perfectionism) from my life. Only through Him will I someday be... truly, truly be... perfect.

Our Young Brothers and Sisters

I remember a time when I was at a friend's home, just hanging out and getting to know his teenage friend who was visiting from Washington. We decided to watch a movie, but the debate was 'which movie?' My friend suggested the French film Amelie, which I had seen before and enjoyed very much, but I questioned if we should watch that film (with short scenes of sex and nudity in it) with the teenage boy present. My concern was brushed aside with a "Oh, he's okay." 

I was younger then, and not yet a parent. Today, I would have refused to watch that film with the teenager, even if his parents were there, for I have come to realize that I should never assume that a person has the same weaknesses and temptations that I have. Just as I would not take a recovering alcoholic to a bar just so I could have a beer, I would not knowingly watch a film containing sex, violence, or scary images with others unless I know for sure that it is okay. (side note: I don't watch any type of scary movies, I prefer not to watch violent movies, and occasionally a movie I choose has a sex scene or nudity in it, but we'll fast-forward through it.)

In Paul's letter to Corinth, he shares his wisdom in such situations.

Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. (I Corinthians 9:19-22)

He continues to say:

"I have the right to do anything," you say--but not everything is beneficial. "I have the right to do anything"--but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others... Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God--even as I try to please everyone in every way. For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved. (I Corinthians 10:23-33)

And this applies to anyone in our Family, no matter what age, but I am thinking especially of my children. My husband and I have had to train ourselves to think twice about books, magazines, movies, food, and even clothes. Things that before were "No problem" now are potentially a problem in our house. We don't want to be the ones who cause our children to stumble later in life by exposing them to things that are not Godly. Yes, some things are 'okay'. Yes, our culture allows much today. But not everything is good or beneficial, especially in God's eyes. Our job as parents is not only to shield and teach our children, but to guard the spiritual lives of these young brothers and sisters in Christ.

I urge you parents not to bring your child to a movie just because you're itching to see it and you couldn't find a babysitter. Or watching a show with questionable morals (even subversive ones) in the presence of your children. Or dressing your child in something 'cute' if the outfit is inappropriate even on a young lady or man.

Remember the words of Paul, for the sake of our young brothers and sisters.

Footnote:

If you are looking for a resource for censoring media, check out http://www.almenconi.com/. Al Menconi, whom I have heard speak live, is passionate about our children's hearts and how movies, TV, music, and video games affect them. He also has a website that clearly describes the contents of a movie, going beyond G or PG to tell you if the film has issues with content or message. The reviews are for current and recent films: http://www.pluggedin.com/.

www.imdb.com have also started including a Parents' Guide for certain movies (scroll down past the 'Cast' to 'Storyline'.) They are also detailed, but they do not touch on the spiritual aspects of the film like Al's website does.

Post-Christmas Cheer

I discovered today what makes a Christmas song really great.

It had not been a good day. As we backed out of the garage, on our way to my parents' house to celebrate Christmas with them, I noticed something different about our house. It took me a moment to realize what it was: one of the cars was missing. Normally, we have three cars parked on our driveway, because our housemates have two for their commute to work and school. Well, one of their cars was gone.

We quickly called our housemates (who were in Colorado visiting family), hoping that maybe a friend of theirs had borrowed the car, and they had just happened to forget mentioning it to us. No such luck. The trip to my parents' house was cut short, and my husband was on the phone much of the day, talking to the police and our housemates.

From this situation, my husband observed how sin has a ripple affect. Many people's Christmas was ruined this morning. As for me, I was just angry. How could someone do that?! To my friends, of all people?! I hope the thieves are caught! Maybe God can work a miracle! I want Him to get those crooks!

I fumed while I turned the situation over and over in my mind. But a moment came as I sat in my house and looked up at the sun shining in through a skylight. My husband was playing Christmas music in the background, and I heard the words, "O come let us adore Him, O come let us adore Him..." And I stopped, breathed, and worshiped Him despite everything. In the midst of my anger, I had forgotten to pray. I finally released my grip on the uncontrollable and called on God for peace and justice.

Later, as I washed the dinner dishes, I found myself singing the second verse of 'O Holy Night'. Again, the words struck me, "Christ is the Lord..." And I was reminded that He is with us, and He has His hand on us and our housemates. Whatever the reason was for this incident, He is in control.

The great Christmas songs are great because they are true. I can sing them all year round because they are worshipful. Some people are disappointed because another Christmas has come and gone, but I have Christmas cheer that never goes away.

Standing Up for Truth

This morning's sermon was not given by our teaching pastor, but by a seminary student named Charlie. Charlie and his wife are both people I highly respect, of amazing wisdom and servants' hearts. 

Anyway, Charlie recounted a time when he was on an airplane and overheard (not that it was difficult to overhear people who were practically shouting) a group of athletes in the back of the plane. The young men were passing around pornographic magazines, holding them up for all to see, and talking about the photos in extremely vulgar and obscene language. At first, Charlie, like everyone else on the plane, tried to ignore the situation and mind his own business. But he couldn't ignore the Holy Spirit prompting him to stand up for truth. After a few minutes, Charlie, not being a man of confrontation, took a deep breath, literally stood up to his full six feet and some inches, and basically told the young men to be respectful to others on the plane. When he sat down, his heart was jumping out of his chest, and he half-expected the whole sports team to jump him once the plane landed. But nothing like that happened; in fact, people thanked him for what he did. And Charlie can only hope and pray that the young men learned a little about the self-destructive nature of their actions that day.

When I heard Charlie's tale, I was reminded of all the times I DID NOT stand up for truth, starting in elementary school. In the third grade, when other students made fun of the new Chinese boy, I joined in, though I knew that I shouldn't. All through my growing-up years, I would turn my head rather than face confrontation. I was always afraid of the consequences if I chose to stand up against my peers. What if the team did attack Charlie for speaking out? Would that mean his choice of actions was wrong? Is truth ever wrong?!

One Sunday a few months back, I found seats in front of two teenagers. As soon as we started singing, I realized that the boys were not there for the same reason I was. When their joking and playing continued even when the sermon started, I knew something had to be done, by someone. But no one did anything! Was it up to me?! For some reason, I felt like a highschooler again, the quiet and nerdy wallflower sitting in front of the popular and charismatic football players. But I finally took a deep breath, turned around, and quietly and calmly told the boys to stop talking. Looking back, I should have said with a smile, "This is good. You should listen to this!" But at least I did something instead of nothing; it was a small step, but a step nonetheless.

This was a good lesson learned today. I am no longer a teenager and I no longer need to be controlled by the fears that haunted me in high school. God's truth is truth, no matter what. Whom shall I fear?

My Story

(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!") 

Pruning

I'm confessing. I have a habit that needs breaking. It's a habit I had to break before, but now it's crept up again on me.

Some of you have your coffee, some have your tea-- whatever it is that you must have before you feel like you can really start your day. I don't drink coffee, and I try not to become dependent on tea, but I had begun to feel incomplete in the morning if I don't hop onto the Internet first thing. My excuse was, "I'm checking my e-mail and planning my day" or "I have a deadline" but really, I knew better. It was becoming an idol.

When I found my thoughts wandering to the Internet more and more throughout the day, I knew I had missed my chance to prune this sin while it was still small. A few years ago, I was jumping onto the Internet every time I felt alone and removed while at home with my little ones. It's coming back. I start thinking, "Maybe someone e-mailed me" or "I wonder if anyone commented on my photos on Facebook?" Usually no one has, or at least, it wasn't anything urgent, and I end up wandering aimlessly from site to site for a few minutes, wasting my precious time. The 'web' was aptly named.

So I have made a rule for myself: no computer whatsoever until I have read my Bible. I was building the foundation of my days on the computer, not on God's word. I decided to start with the epistles of Paul. Right now, I'm in Ephesians, chewing on one section at a time.

This morning, after my new morning routine, I went outside to hang the laundry. I decided it was also a good time to prune the cypress trees in the back; most of them were looking scraggly. Some leaves were so overgrown that they were hanging and pulling the whole branch down. As I snipped and strained, I noticed how one tree in particular looked green and healthy on the outside, but the more I trimmed back, the more I saw the brown and dead branches closer to the trunk. Oh, how sin can grow and cover and deceive! I also thought of the tool I was using, and how it would hurt if it was my finger getting cut, instead of a tree branch. I'm grateful that God's pruning doesn't always hurt. If I'm obedient early on, it's only uncomfortable for a short while. But it still is hard work. My shoulders ached as I reached for the upper branches, and my hands were sore from pressing on the handles of the clippers for those extra-thick branches. But the trees look lovelier now.

We are creatures of habit. Idols are easy to come by, oftentimes, without our knowing. But if I may be permitted to write as Paul wrote centuries ago in I Corinthians 1:31 ("Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord")-- If I must have habits, let them be habits of Christdom.

(oh, and if I am not replying to e-mails and such as quickly as I used to, please forgive me.)

Coal on My Lips

You would think that I've learned by now.

Even as the words left my lips, I wanted to take them back.

It doesn't even matter what it was that I said; to everyone else, it sounded like small talk. But beneath the words bubbled malicious intent that made my tone and smile all the more saccharine.

That very night, we studied Isaiah. And I felt the full weight of my sin.

“Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.” (Isaiah 6:5 NIV)

I would have been crushed; my sin seemed so small, but it was big enough to kill me.

Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.” (Isaiah 6:6-7)

Oh happy day!! Despite my constant failure, I never taste the true consequence of my actions! I don't know what kind of person I would be without the redeeming love of Christ...cynical, bitter, hopeless. I would have to live daily under the crushing weight of my sin.

 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

 And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8)

There is no other response but this one.