Mother's Day

Sometime between your early adolescence and your late teenage years, you start saying things like: “When I grow up, I want to be just like ______.”  And then you live a quarter century and realize that you have now effectively “grown up” but you still have not become that person you wanted to be.  Luckily, with the advent of modern science, those who were once older than you continue to age at the same rate you do, and those wise grown-ups you always looked up to continue to teach you things.

I don’t think it’s fair that some people must search their whole life for inspiration when mine lives in my own family.  Then again, there is nothing about grace that is fair.

I was born with three built-in role models.  Mothers who—as I’ve learned to appreciate them—have taught me how to be a Godly woman.

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My mom has taught me that if you see something that needs to be changed, you have to change it.  She is not okay with being passive or with standing by and watching—she wants to do.  Not because she is a control freak (although the alphabetized spice rack, color-coded mail folders, and Q-tip-cleaned stove top might cause you to think otherwise)—she does things because she cares about things getting done.  Her every move seems to be motivated by the truth that “It is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it” (James 4:17).

On a practical level, she has taught me how to be organized and efficient—which can be a curse when I find myself shuttering at the thought of an item being placed in the wrong kitchen drawer but has been an immeasurable blessing as I have navigated earning a college degree, living on my own, and balancing work and life.

Mom doesn’t do things just for the sake of accomplishment, she does things because she cares about people.  Last weekend she itemized the grocery list and pre-labeled the serving bowls so that she could fill our house with people we love.  I can’t remember a Thanksgiving in recent years where we didn’t have at least one non-family member at the dinner table because she has to do something about people who don’t have a place to celebrate that day.  It seems that every time I visit home there is a new group of young kids who sheepishly introduce themselves to me at church because Mom whispered to them, “Look, that’s my girl!”; it turns out, my mom is a pseudo mom to an ever-growing group of kids, and she is constantly serving others by opening up her home and offering to watch their kids.  It’s not uncommon for me to come home and find that Mom’s car is missing because she let someone use it for the weekend or to smell a fresh-cooked meal in the oven that she’s preparing for the homeless ministry she serves in.  My mom never stops going, because she never stops caring.

My love for worship comes from my mom.  It doesn’t take long after our family is gathered at home for the worship jam session to break out.  We all sort of independently mosey in to the living room and, before you know it, everyone has an instrument, and Mom is standing up with one hand anchored on the piano guiding us with emphatic hand motions on who will take melody and who will take harmony when we get to the chorus.  (Thomas is a mainstay on keys, and now that Evan is an awesome guitar player, I usually opt to get a few bangs in on the djembe—Mom, I can’t give you credit for those skills, that’s all me).  The room is filled with laughter just as much as it is with enthusiastic songs to our God.  Thanks to Mom, I think I will enter Heaven singing loudly.

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My dad’s mom, Grams, has taught me the art of hospitality.  It is so effortless for her, the way she prepares a space for people to feel welcomed and cared for.  When you arrive at Grams’ house, there is already a spread of delicious snacks sitting on the counter, soft worship music playing in the background, and—if it’s winter time—a fire in the fireplace.  It feels as if she has been waiting and anticipating your arrival all day long, and as you enter through the door way, she slowly approaches you with a warm embrace that, in and of itself, says, I am so glad you are here.  And suddenly, everything feels at peace.  This is not special treatment that just her grandkids get, either (although, I like to think that not EVERYONE gets to leave Grams’ house with two Tupperwares full of homemade cookies and a bag of opera fudge).  Grams and Grandpa have turned their home in to a bed and breakfast where they serve people like this all throughout the year.  I know for a fact that Grams doesn’t just wash the sheets and prepare meals for her guests—she prays over them and speaks to them about the goodness of the Lord, knowing that “People do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4).

Grams is so caring and genuinely takes an interest in the lives of others.  When she asks me what I want to do when I’m at her house, sometimes I feel a little guilty to admit that all I’d really like to do is sit in one of her big arm chairs with a cup of coffee and talk to her about life.  She is such a great listener, knowing exactly when to ask exactly the right questions, when to share her refined wisdom, and when to just let me talk and tell stories.

Grams is calm and gentle, but her faith roars like a lion.  The last time I visited with her she was telling me more about her run-ins with cancer earlier in life (I was too young to remember the details).  After having had surgery to have the cancer removed, she got some scary results on a scan a couple of years later.  When she arrived at the doctor’s office to talk about next steps, the doctor told her, “This is very odd, but your scan today doesn’t show anything.”  Grams replied, “Great!  God healed me!  I’m going home,” and quickly left.  You can’t help but feel strengthened in her presence.  You feel like you want to stand close to her just hoping that some of that faith will rub off on you.

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My mom’s mom, Grandmama, wears the Gospel of Christ everywhere she goes.  She was that embarrassing grandmother who would talk to every waitress we had at a restaurant, every cashier in the checkout line, and really just any non-suspecting person who was in her line of sight.  I remember one time my brother and I were walking out of the grocery store with Grandmama and Papa, and Grandmama had stopped in the parking lot to talk to someone about Jesus.  Papa and I had walked a bit ahead at this point, and I looked up at him after several minutes of waiting and said, “Ughhh, aren’t you going to tell her to hurry up?!”  He just smiled and shook his head because he knew—God made her for this.  I’m no longer embarrassed by Grandmama’s public declarations of the Gospel.  In fact, I try to make mental notes when I watch her so seamlessly transition in to a conversation about faith that quickly has the other person in tears, their heart being softened.  But no one does it quite like Grandmama does.

Grandmama’s entire life—every waking minute—is surrendered to the Lord.  The first thing she does every morning when she wakes up is pray for all of her family members.  I have to believe that those prayers are at least part of the reason why my family and I have remained loyal to God’s plans over the years—“The  earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results” (James 5:17).  When you’re visiting at Grandmama’s house, it’s not uncommon to be sitting around TV only to look over and see that Grandmama has her glasses lowered on her nose and is flipping through the pages of her Bible.  It’s as if she can’t go even a couple of hours without ingesting the word of God.

When we were young, I remember long visits at Grandmama’s house in the beautiful Florida sunshine.  In the mornings, the kids would sit at the table eating breakfast, and Grandmama would sit with us and read us daily devotionals and scripture verses.  At the time, I was a kid and thought, Is THIS how we’re going to be spending our vacation???  I think I would have preferred to be outside riding in the golf cart or swimming in the pool.  But looking back on it, I think those times are part of what contributed to my love for God’s word and taught me how to have quiet time with Him.  I will never stop learning from Grandmama’s life of obedience.

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I pray to become like just one of these women.  Or maybe, like Jesus, I’ll go for the trifecta.

Quite literally, I would not be here today without any one of them.  But I also know for certain that I would not be the follower of Christ that I am without the influence of them all.  I am blessed by the lessons they teach with their lives.  I love you all dearly!  Happy Mother’s Day.

Fridays

Everything is better on Fridays. Despite the number of nights I worked late this week or how many emails I still have to get through or what the weather looks like outside, life just feels better on Friday. You know you're in the home stretch and you feel a thousand feet tall to take on everything that stands between you and two days of rest, recharging, and fun. I'm typing this as I sit on the comfy couches in our building lobby because I thought, "It's Friday! I'm ‘bout to take a mid-morning break!"

Today, in a small way (a very small way), I sense what it's like to anticipate Heaven. To know that there is something coming that is better, and to long for it. There is something in your spirit that senses that. How incredible the anticipation should be for not just two days of rest and running errands, but an eternity of rest and NO to-do lists (Heaven, come down!). I want my soul to long for it.

“…we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

Why Parenthood made me quit Parenthood and other reasons why it is the best show on TV

I haven't been a "show" person since the days when I used to tune in to the ongoing sagas of the Smoke Monster on Lost. Even then, I was, admittedly, one of those annoying followers who was "OBSESSED WITH THAT SHOW" but never really knew what was going on (did anyone?).

Until now. And until Parenthood.

I've gotten to know the Bravermans over the last six weeks or so as I've sped through the first 44 episodes on Netflix. While I miss that anticipatory feeling of waiting ALL DAY for 8pm and then gripping your seat like a kid on a roller coaster as you *sush* everyone in the room to hear the words "Next week, on [TV Show]...", I've learned that "binge watching" has what can only be compared to drug-addictive properties that I can't get enough of.

I could go on and on about all the things I love about and have learned from Parenthood. But I think my favorite theme is the value of a consistent lifestyle. Adam Braverman, the show's main protagonist, does not live an extraordinary life. He works a common job and has a common family with common problems. What makes him so likeable is not that he goes on crazy adventures or lives out his dreams, it's that he is loyal, loving, and available to the people in his life. Is this the greatest accomplishment we've all missed in the pursuit of living an interesting and dynamic life?

Jesus thought so: “The most important commandment is this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.”

The only way I can think to describe all of the emotions I experience during an episode of Parenthood is like a Jackson Pollock painting: just a bunch of stuff thrown up there all at once.

And then I cry.

I should have known that these reeling Parenthood emotions would one day become too much for their own good and that all of the life lessons would implode on one another. Alas, Parenthood has successfully convinced me to stop watching Parenthood.

For all the thoughtfulness and heart lessons that this show has afforded me, I also realized that my habit has become: get home from work, abandon all necessary and/or beneficial responsibilities, sit and watch Parenthood. And eat. It’s not spiritually healthy. I can convince myself that I'm just "unwinding" or that "I worked all day and deserve this," but a beer, an order of Thai food, and half a bag of chips later, I've "unwound" in a slothful and disobedient way.

(Warning: If you haven't made it to Season 3, Episode 9 yet, there may be spoilers that follow. If you've made it PAST Season 3, Episode 9: DON’T TELL ME ANYTHING.)

Last night I watched as Seth checked himself in to rehab, worked hard to get sober, and then (after getting out of rehab) humbly made the decision to move to a new city, knowing that it was the best decision for the people he loved—even though it's not what he wanted and even though everything he'd ever dreamed of having was right at his fingertips. He just walked away—from his addiction and then from HIS vision for his life so that others could be happy.

And I continued to eat.

This morning I thought about these Bible verses:

“In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.” (Hebrews 12:4)

“And if your hand--even your stronger hand--causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.” (Matthew 5:30)

If we live our lives according to Scripture, we are required to take extreme measures to avoid sin and temptation. God knows that sin is not a light matter. Jesus has already paid the price for it, but sin still separates us from God, and that’s why He takes it so seriously.

I've heard about and seen many people check themselves in to rehab or make an appointment with a counselor, but for some reason, when Seth walked away, I knew that I need to start walking away too.

What situations do I put myself in that make me vulnerable to sin? What measures am I taking to ensure that I don't go anywhere near sin? I know that watching Parenthood (or any TV show, or surfing social media) at night will lead to gluttony and apathy, and so I must quit.

“But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.” (Romans 8:17)

Sometimes I think about suffering for Christ. I think about that oldest pastor line in the book: "If you're not suffering because of your faith, you're probably doing something wrong." And you're sitting in your chair or pew looking up at the guy thinking, "Man, I can't remember the last time I was spat on or made fun of because of Jesus or stoned because I follow Him...do people even still do that?"

In Jesus' time, suffering for Him oftentimes meant public ridicule and physical persecution. In some parts of the world, that's still the case. But in America, where it's "trendy" to be #blessed and cool to wear a cross on your Urban Outitters crew neck, suffering for Christ might look more like not watching Parenthood because you know it will lead you to temptation and far from Him.

Have I become a soft, undisciplined Christian who wants to have her cake and eat it too?  Who wants to follow Christ and give up as little as possible?

I think there are some wonderfully redeeming themes in Parenthood, and, really, I sort of have to find out if Drew ever outgrows his painful awkwardness, if Crosby ever FINALLY puts a ring on it, and if Haddie ever grows out her curly bangs.  So, in the interest of full disclosure, I will probably keep watching Parenthood. But I will do so only in the light of day, where I am free from temptation:


For you are all children of the light and of the day; we don’t belong to darkness and night. So be on your guard, not asleep like the others. Stay alert and be clearheaded. Night is the time when people sleep and drinkers get drunk. But let us who live in the light be clearheaded, protected by the armor of faith and love, and wearing as our helmet the confidence of our salvation. (1 Thessalonians 5:5-8)

2014

Today, the office’s steady hum of keyboard clicks and weather conversations was wonderfully interrupted by bouncing footsteps and footballs as several kids roamed the halls.  It’s New Year’s Eve, and with most kids off from school, parents were forced to either hire a babysitter or “divide and conquer,” as one coworker told me—“Dad’s at home with the baby, and I’m here with this little guy.”  The squealing, miniature humans were a welcome addition to the already-stirring holiday excitement at work.

At one point during the day, I walked in to the kitchenette to find one such little girl, probably no more than seven years old, reaching to fill her bottle in the water cooler.  Not wanting to scare or intimidate her, I didn’t say anything at first.  And then she took the lead:

“Have I seen you yet?”

I smiled and looked back at her, “No, I don’t think we’ve met!  My name is Allison.  What’s yours?” 

“McKinley, but my little brother calls me Kinley.”

We exchanged a few more words, and our conversation ended with her asking me if I would be here later this week (she’s coming back).

I was so struck by McKinley’s openness, gentleness, and kind spirit, and soon the words of Christ whispered to my memory:

“Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:16-17)

How incredible that childhood holds the secrets to a life of faith!  How often I try to prove my knowledge of scripture, learn more theology, and defend more ideology.  How often I try to accomplish more for God and go to more places for His name.

What I could stand to do is be more like McKinley: befriend others and be gentle, open.

I pray that in 2014, my pursuit of spiritual maturity does not propel me forward toward lofty intelligence but backwards toward child-like love and faithfulness.

Fully clean

If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard the phrase: 

“I know deep down [they’re] a good person.” 

...I’d have piles of dimes too high to climb.  But the Gospel, a new paradigm, does not tell us we’re good inside.  It tells us that we’re sick, we’ve fallen short, we are in need.  And Jesus, Son of God, comes and makes us clean. 

But now, I find that a new lie has come alive.  A lie that lets me think that “deep down inside” I’m still that sick, lost, depraved soul that I once was.  A lie that makes me feel like my righteousness is layers of clothing I put on, making me warmer and warmer until you rip the zippers, tear apart the seams and see the real me—withered, cold.  A lie that assumes my attempts to live clean are just those—attempts, that very often fall short.  When I am successfully “walking in step with the Spirit”—avoiding temptation, standing up to sin, loving from an overflow of joy within—it feels like merely an act; soon I’ll walk off stage and go back to being me. 

The “me” that longs for less than God’s best.   
The “me” that has a continual lust for more.   
The “me” that’s stuck.   
The “me” whose desires wreak havoc and devour my soul. 

But my life is not a tight rope, and what’s “right” is not a cloak I don.  The old is totally gone.  The stage I’m standing on is grace, and I will not be replaced with an under study or anybody who’s not me, redeemed.  I’m fully clean, through and through.  I don’t always do what I should do or what I want to do but if there’s one thing that’s always true it’s that I have what I don’t deserve—salvation. 


Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.  The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:17) 

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you…If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his spirit who dwells in you. (Romans 8:9-11) 

And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses. (Colossians 2:13) 

Eating pears in peace

This morning, after getting in to work at 6:56am and getting right to work, I had approximately 8 minutes before my 8:00 meeting.  I grabbed the pear I had packed in my Vera Bradley lunch bag along with three stiff paper towels from our company break room and sat back down in the exact spot where I spend at least 160 hours per month (one of which I'd already put in this morning) my desk chair.  I took one bite and my mind immediately raced again to what I could look at, read, accomplish.  What small task could I accomplish in the (now) 7 minutes before my meeting?  What website could I pull up to blur my eyes over for a few minutes?  Who has instagrammed since the last time I checked?

But this morning, I decided to wait.  Pear juice flowing down my chin, puddling on the paper towels below and splashing on to the space bar of my keyboard, I decided to spend just a few minutes in peace.

I realized how little time I allow for peace to work its way in, and then I wonder why I don't have any.  Too much work, too much social media, too much stimulation. Be still and know. 

Trouble, Trouble, Trouble

“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour.  Father, glorify your name!” (John 12:27)

If we find ourselves in life circumstances that are difficult, perhaps we must consider that there is a “very reason” for us being there.  At the least, we can know that there was a “very reason” for Jesus to be in His moments of difficultly, and so we can rejoicingly participate with Him in suffering (1 Peter 4:13).

Certainly, none of us are Jesus.  Not one of us is destined to die for the salvation of all mankind.  I think about the countless times in the book of Psalms where David pleas with God for help…

“Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to me neck…”

“Deliver me from sinking in the mire…”

“O Lord, do not delay”

“Rescue me, O God, from the hand of the wicked…”

“O my God, make haste to help me!”

Asking God to save us from our trouble is not wrong.  But we must realize what our trouble may be accomplishing and the significance it might have.  Not the least of which is that our suffering increases our dependency on Christ.  And our choice to actually depend on Him in trouble—to sit in our moments of anxiety, sadness, confusion, and turmoil believing that Christ is the only solid rock on which we stand rather than retreating to vices or distractions—will “glorify His name”.