The craziest thing happened today. It was a mini-miracle in my own living room, during our family devotion time. It almost made my heart stop. My son, with hands folded and head bowed, said in his prayer, “Thank you God for calling us here.”
..........
Read the rest, including tips on helping kids through a movie, over at Katie Luther!
Grace frees me to be the child that I am and to ask my Father for help. ~John Kleinig
Monday, May 23, 2016
Thursday, May 19, 2016
ride the wave.
"We are
marked men, we who have been baptized and received the Spirit.
"We have upon
us the imprint of Jesus.
"If we are
privileged to bear the mark of Jesus, the obedient Son, and the mark of the
life of the world to come which His Spirit has inscribed upon us, we are
privileged also to bear the mark of the Servant. By the power of that Spirit,
through whom God has raised Jesus from the dead and will give life to our
mortal bodies, these mortal bodies of ours can even now become Servant-bodies--
bodies offered to God as living sacrifices. By the power of that Spirit, things
deemed impossible can be ours: we can aspire to Jesus' steady composure in the
face of all the flickering malice that bedeviled Him and all the fumbling
weakness of His followers that clogged His steps; can aspire to Jesus'
spontaneous obedience to the Father's Word and will and His unclouded
understanding of that Word and will; dare aspire to Jesus; freedom to love with
the lavish and reckless generosity of the Father; dare aspire to His
willingness to expend Himself for others--all that made His life the beginning
and the pledge of the life of the world to come can be at work in us and
through us.
"We can ride
the cresting wave of God's purpose which will break upon the shore destined to
be our everlasting and delightful home."
--M.
Franzmann, Alive with the Spirit
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Generosity: receive and reflect
I love to listen to her song, especially in church. She was once so sick I thought she would be silenced forever, but now, she stands beside me healthy, for no reason except the undeserved mercy of God. And she sings. She receives what He gives with delight and innocence, and she replies with song, even when she doesn't quite understand the words.
One day we sang "God moves in mysterious ways." She sang those words, then she whispered to me, "You mean like this?" and she shook her hips and waggled her arms right there in the pew. I got the giggles for the rest of the service.
Last sunday in church we read about Elijah and the widow 1 Kings 17:7-16
As I listened to the widow's story, I kept thinking with amazement how she must have emptied her stores, every single day, and found them refreshed again the next day, every time. What was that like?
I imagine the first time she made the cakes, she probably ate with mixed feelings. Faith moved her to mix the dough, and to share, but faith does not extinguish all wrestlings, all human feelings and worries. She may have yet wondered if this was really her last meal. She may have second-guessed herself, wondering if she should have said no, should have held something back. She may have wondered if God would really keep death away. Would He really fill the jars again? Would He really provide as He promised?
On the second day, I imagine she made the cakes with more confidence, with less fear, and a not little bit of joy. It is amazing, when God provides. It is a joy to be His child, to be given something unexpected, free, and exactly what is needed in the moment.
Did she come to expect it? Did it get easier to trust God as He proved His faithfulness to her, time and time again? Did she open her hand gladly, knowing that whatever she shared with one hand would soon enough be given back in the other?
Her story reminded me of Grace upon Grace, when Dr. Kleinig implores us to live lives that "receive God's goodness and reflect His generosity."
Receive His goodness,
reflect His generosity.
How's that for a mission statement for the Christian life?
What does this look like, exactly? When I read those worse, I think of my most unusual child: the extremely generous one. This child loves a bag of Skittles, but more than that, she loves giving Skittles away. She loves making money, and she spends it all quickly, but on the most undeserving of her siblings, and rarely on herself. A bag of Hershey Kisses makes her happy if she eats them, but not near as happy as she feels when she leaves kisses on our pillows in secret.
Her smile comes to mind, every time I think of "cheerful giving."
You know what else? She is also amazing at the art of "cheerful receiving."
When God gives a spring day for bouncing on the trampoline, she bounces, and sings, too, and notices the flowers and the blue sky and the birds, and she thanks Him for it. When God gives her chocolate milk, she drinks it down to the last drop. In church, she sings hymns with loud voice and full heart.
Fill up, give thanks, pour out, give thanks, repeat.
This is the example of the widow, and my daughter, and so many others who live generously.
This is the life of faith, the freedom we have as children living under an open heaven, we who are loved by a generous God. He did not spare His Own Son; surely He will provide for all of our needs. There is no need to hold back in fear.
One day we sang "God moves in mysterious ways." She sang those words, then she whispered to me, "You mean like this?" and she shook her hips and waggled her arms right there in the pew. I got the giggles for the rest of the service.
Last sunday in church we read about Elijah and the widow 1 Kings 17:7-16
As I listened to the widow's story, I kept thinking with amazement how she must have emptied her stores, every single day, and found them refreshed again the next day, every time. What was that like?
I imagine the first time she made the cakes, she probably ate with mixed feelings. Faith moved her to mix the dough, and to share, but faith does not extinguish all wrestlings, all human feelings and worries. She may have yet wondered if this was really her last meal. She may have second-guessed herself, wondering if she should have said no, should have held something back. She may have wondered if God would really keep death away. Would He really fill the jars again? Would He really provide as He promised?
On the second day, I imagine she made the cakes with more confidence, with less fear, and a not little bit of joy. It is amazing, when God provides. It is a joy to be His child, to be given something unexpected, free, and exactly what is needed in the moment.
Did she come to expect it? Did it get easier to trust God as He proved His faithfulness to her, time and time again? Did she open her hand gladly, knowing that whatever she shared with one hand would soon enough be given back in the other?
Her story reminded me of Grace upon Grace, when Dr. Kleinig implores us to live lives that "receive God's goodness and reflect His generosity."
Receive His goodness,
reflect His generosity.
How's that for a mission statement for the Christian life?
What does this look like, exactly? When I read those worse, I think of my most unusual child: the extremely generous one. This child loves a bag of Skittles, but more than that, she loves giving Skittles away. She loves making money, and she spends it all quickly, but on the most undeserving of her siblings, and rarely on herself. A bag of Hershey Kisses makes her happy if she eats them, but not near as happy as she feels when she leaves kisses on our pillows in secret.
Her smile comes to mind, every time I think of "cheerful giving."
You know what else? She is also amazing at the art of "cheerful receiving."
When God gives a spring day for bouncing on the trampoline, she bounces, and sings, too, and notices the flowers and the blue sky and the birds, and she thanks Him for it. When God gives her chocolate milk, she drinks it down to the last drop. In church, she sings hymns with loud voice and full heart.
Fill up, give thanks, pour out, give thanks, repeat.
This is the example of the widow, and my daughter, and so many others who live generously.
This is the life of faith, the freedom we have as children living under an open heaven, we who are loved by a generous God. He did not spare His Own Son; surely He will provide for all of our needs. There is no need to hold back in fear.
Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’
or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’
For the Gentiles seek after all these things,
and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.
Matthew 6:31-32
And my God will supply every need of
yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19
Friday, May 6, 2016
9 things learned from the Big Move
It is now spring in the new place, and we are on the other side of the
upheaval.
Join me over at Sisters of Katie Luther where I'm discussing some things God has been teaching us as He
dragged/carried us through these past few months.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Big Blooms (on confirmation)
I taught her to walk.
I'd been doing it for years. I bent low and held her tiny hand as she fought gravity, and I taught her how to win against gravity.
I can still remember how it felt to scoop her up after a fall, and the way it felt to carry her on my hip.
Before long, she learned to run, and she'd give me running hugs so strong she'd tip me over and we'd roll in the grass.
We share shoes now.
She's a half-size bigger than me.
I taught her to walk. Then God sent her other teachers: school teachers, piano teachers.
I might borrow those shoes, I think, as I watch her walk up to the piano for her first solo&ensemble performance.
She's been nervous all morning, but you wouldn't know it to look at her.
I have heard her practice this piece for weeks in our living room, in fits and starts, interrupted by brothers, too fast, too slow, and sometimes so loudly it inspired only a snappy "not right now!" from her mother.
But today,
I watch her, in awe.
I watch her, in awe.
Where did she get that talent, that beauty?
From her fingertips flows a melody soothing and cheerful, and I praise the God whose beauty she reflects.
"Bloom flower!" I have whispered in her ear, and now, she blooms.
The following Sunday:
She whispers to me after communion, "Mom, that's the last time daddy's going to bless me like that." Next time she's here, she will be confirmed.
"In the waters of your Baptism, Jesus has called you by name and promises to be with you always." Pastor-daddy has said this over her head for years, now, and Jesus has been with her.
Last times are sad and scary and wonderful. The last blessing, I think, the last blessing meant for children, that is. The baby blessing will be replaced by another, greater blessing. "Take and eat, this is my body given for you."
The childish blessing is put aside, not because it is no longer valid, but because God has more for her, and she is now big enough to contain the greater blessing. God, help me to remember this as I grieve the passing of childish things.
Confirmation Sunday:
The flowers are blooming everywhere, and she blooms with them. Family and friends gather from near and far to celebrate. Her godparents, who remember her running hugs and hip-riding days, who have prayed for her and spoiled her even from far away, share in our joy at this thing God has done.
God has blessed her since she was little, since He called her by name. Now, she opens her own hands and embraces that blessing with her own heart.
There were Big Feelings on Pastor-daddy's face as he poured on her God's Bigger Blessing:
"Lorraine, the almighty God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has given you the new birth of water and of the Spirit and has forgiven you all your sins, strengthen you with His grace, to life everlasting. Amen."
God, strengthen her and keep her.
Strengthen her for the days to come,
the days of teenage struggles,
of high school,
of big feelings and big heartaches,
big growth,
big falls,
and hard lessons.
Be her Big Father,
be stronger than the world's attacks,
and brighter than the darkness she faces.
Be the solid ground in her changing world
and keep her safe in your unchanging love,
In the name of Jesus, Amen.
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