Why I have hope for the children

She’s been making her plans, researching colleges, getting ready to take flight.

Reluctant at first, but now less so, she begins to imagine life on campus.

But America has begun to change, like a slap in the face,

I watch her plan, but I wonder, “what now?”

And often she smacks up against a cancellation, or headline that makes her question, “What now?”

I don’t know, daughter.

I don’t know what this summer will be like, or fall, or next fall.

Yes, it could be fundamentally different. 

Yes, our new normal could be nothing like we imagined or planned. 

So, what now? 

What if the future we experience is nothing like the future for which we planned?

“To know Christ and to make him known.” (Classical Conversations Mission statement)

“To receive God’s goodness and reflect his generosity.” (The Christian life as described by John Kleinig)

These words describe the highest and best aims of education, of parenting, of the life of the Christian. These words are rooted deeply in the reality of God as we know him in Christ, and God does not change like shifting societies.

So what of the future, mom?

Will you grow in knowledge of God? I think you will, even it if means fighting against distractions and temptations to cling to His word. Will there be God’s goodness to receive? Yes, of course, He will continue to pour it out in grace and mercy on His children in all places as He has always done. 

Will you have eyes to see His goodness?

God’s people know Him and receive all good things from His hand, sometimes right in the midst of great suffering, sometimes right there on the cliff’s edge, or deep in the valley of the shadow of death. His rod and His staff and His continual presence in Word and sacrament will give you comfort wherever you go.

And what, then, shall I do? 

Will you “make him known,” will you “reflect his generosity?” Of course you will, that is what God’s children do. You may be called to reflect God’s goodness on your college campus or in your vocation; or it may be in some other way.  God’s goodness is so multi-faceted it can be reflected anywhere: at Starbucks, at a babysitting job, even at a stoplight.

I do not know the plans He has for you. But there will be goodness and mercy from the hand of God, and there will be neighbors on whom you can pour His love.

Meanwhile, we wait in uncertainty, clinging to a certain God. 

We wait here, with open hands and hearts, 

Training

and living 

our lives together (for now) 

in Christ (forever),

To know and make known,

receive and reflect,

The love of God as we know it in Jesus.

To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen. (Jude 24-25)

look away from the train wreck

Watching the news lately feels like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion. I can’t do anything about it. And yet I can’t seem to look away.

In his sermon yesterday, pastor talked about the sensationalism and bloodlust that drew people to the Colosseum. The pull of watching violence, death, and evil from a safe distance, the strength of that pull, and how staring into the darkness tempts us, and distorts our view of the entire world. 

Staring into the darkness for long periods of time distorts our view of the entire world.

Well, of course it does.

But I need to be informed, I argue. And I stare at the train wreck on my newsfeed a little longer.

Do you need to be informed? Why? How much? When does the desire to be informed morph into something that harms you personally, that distracts you from the good work God has placed before you, that causes you to forget that you are in the hands of your Loving and Merciful Father?

These are the questions I carry today.

We do need to be informed. We need to be informed about our current, local world (a little,) but we also need to be informed about the bigger picture, the eternal picture, the work God has done and is doing through Christ in the world. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to just escape from all of this, to simply retreat, and be surrounded by the good, true, and beautiful, to remember God and to hide in Him from the crumbling world around us?

It would be nice. Healing, refreshing, restful. 

And why can’t we do just that, today? 

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him. 

Psalm 34:8

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It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.

C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

It’s been hard over here, a whole new kind of hard. My brain feels taxed, like I’m not even sure what to do with myself. Sometimes I just wander the house looking for something to eat or clean or …. control, I guess. Sometimes I pick up my phone determined to spend time in Scripture, but I end up scrolling headlines instead, ramping up my emotions rather than settling them.

Settle me down, Lord.

Here’s one thing I fear, and I want to share it with you: I fear the division that’s happening. I fear the consequences of fear.  Everything is so emotionally charged, it seems dangerous to talk about anything that matters, and I hate it.

We can’t let this trial divide God’s people.  

We need to remember what we have in common. We are redeemed children of God living in a corrupt, contaminated, disgusting, broken world. We will not leave this world unscathed.  But also, we are safe, ultimately, ONLY because of Jesus and His sacrifice, safe COMPLETELY because of His grace. That safety is not a mere physical safety- physical safety is not promised. Neither health nor economic safety is promised to us. 

God himself is our Only Solid Thing.

Let us keep taking refuge, under Him and in Him, together, while we ride out this storm.

He is (still) making all things new.

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High

    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,

    my God, in whom I trust.”

(Ps 91:1-2)

Interruptions

It is funny how quickly comments like this: “Just go play for a second while I finish this one email sweetie,” turn into this: “I SAID GO PLAY!!!” Sometimes I have such patience for kids being kids, and other times I seem to have none at all. What makes the difference?

I think it has something to do with how I look at my time. As C.S. Lewis said:

Men are not angered by misfortune but by misfortune conceived as injury. And the sense of injury depends on the feeling that a legitimate claim has been denied…Now you will have noticed that nothing throws him into a passion so easily as to find a tract of time which he reckoned on having at his own disposal unexpectedly taken from him.

Being a highly task-oriented person, I start most days with a mental list of things to do with “my time.” I seem to remember days with one or two kids that I could still “get things done” even with the babies around. I am a multi-tasker: I can praise the artwork, respond to emails, talk on the phone, help someone with a puzzle, and make lunch all at the same time. As long as everyone cooperates and lets me do what I need to do, things go smoothly. But when “my time” is interrupted, especially by petty fights, whines, or other inconveniences, things start to fall apart. I get angry and frustrated; annoyed to be distracted once again from my never-ending list of things I need to do.

In the book Screwtape Letters, CS Lewis writes imaginary letters between demons who are working to mislead and corrupt a Christian. After making the above insight on anger, Screwtape gleefully describes how easy it is to frustrate human beings by simply encouraging the notion “my time is my own.”

He comments:

The assumption which you want him to go on making is so absurd that, if once it is questioned, even we cannot find a shred of argument in its defense. The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and the moon as his chattels. He is also, in theory, committed to a total service of the Enemy; and if the Enemy appeared to him in bodily form and demanded that total service for even one day, he would not refuse. He would be greatly relieved if that one day involved nothing harder than listening to the conversation of a foolish woman; and he would be relieved almost to the pitch of disappointment if for one half hour in that day, the Enemy said, “Now you may go and amuse yourself.” Now, if he thinks about this assumption for a moment, even he is bound to realize that he is actually in this situation every day.

My plans, my calendar, my time. These things are not really mine, are they? The interruptions of my children began to teach me this, but this pandemic has driven that point home.

How would I approach my calendar differently if I really understood this? Perhaps every entry would be prefaced with "if the Lord wills." "If the Lord wills," we will visit colleges, gather with friends, have summer vacations. If things "get better," if states open up, if we don't get sick, if things stay intact, if the Lord in His grace orchestrates all of these things over which I have no control.

Time is not our own.
The interruptions we face were on God's list for us.

My new list, my new God-given assignment includes thinking about things I don't want to think about, asking hard questions about what it means to love our neighbors during this time, staying informed, staying home more than we would like, and leaning on God like never before.

It's not that there are no gifts here. These gifts are just not the ones I wanted.
But I did not make this day, God did.

THIS is the day the Lord has made.

This is the day our loving, benevolent Father has given us.
Will we receive it with open hands, and can we give thanks, even now?

Fine, then.

Life as it is not as I would make it.

Fine then. 

Fine then, I’ll take it, this quarantine life

this stretch of time with open days

and no parties or meetings or games

and restless boys who don't want to give me space

fine then, I’ll take it

this confining life of rules and 

social distance

forced creativity 

and the desperate struggle to look up

and see the good and true and beautiful here

(it is still here)

What’s the alternative, but to keep hands closed like fist

heart balled up and angry

keeping it all out

tight heart, squeezing the air out

Fine then, i’ll take it,

this body that turns grief into hunger

anxiety into anger

fear into sleepiness

this mortal body that can be taken out

by a microbe

There’s not another body offered to me

this is my body

this is my life now

What choice do I have but to take it?

Fine then, Father

open these hands and help me receive

pry them open

to receive the LIFE today

this body

these days

fine then.

I’ll pout, a little

like a toddler with the wrong-colored sippy cup

Fine then, I’ll take it.

Open, soften me Jesus

turn “fine then”

into “yes, Lord”

and someday,

“thanks, Jesus.”

 

Inspired by this poem
Instructions on not giving up

flood in the laundry room

The flood finally overcame her,
there in the laundry room.

The children’s noise was too much 
and she was harsh with them,
angry at their stupid fights over blankets
and who gets the toaster first
as if any of that matters when the world is crumbling.

She yelled them away,
not gently,
and stormed into the laundry room
seeking solace in sorting
and songs to lift her head

But the socks were too heavy,
and her legs gave way

She crumbled to the concrete
back against the washing machine
and the flood washed over
poured down her face
sucked out her breath

the waves smashed her face with grief
and she didn’t get up.

She didn’t get up
and the waves crashed
and her son found her there
with her face on a grubby towel
gasping for breath
under relentless waves

What does a son do with this?
With a mother on the floor?

He could have turned around and pretended not to see her,
Backed out of the room,
away from the unfixable problem.

She didn’t get up,
and he didn’t run out.

She didn’t get up
and he got down with her,
there on the concrete,
down under the waves,
and he leaned against the washing machine,
and let her feel his head on her shoulder,
and he didn’t run from the flood.

And he whispered quietly,
words beyond his years,
“You don’t have to talk about it.”

He stayed
as long as the flood raged

Was it hours or moments or years?
He stayed,
head on her shoulder
quietly,
resolutely,
present.

and she was not alone.

Lord open my eyes

Lord, open my eyes, I pray as if my life depends on it.

The eyes of my heart do not naturally see this place as God sees, and even when they do see, they tend to shut again.  I am prone to sleepiness, to forgetfulness, to blindness.

Father, help me to see.

Help me to see something other than the bad news, the reasons to complain, the reasons to fear.

The eyes of my heart, if they are not forced open, they see only the holes where the gifts of yesterday were,

the empty calendar,

the cancelled plans. 

They see a catastrophic future, 

and a floundering present, 

with too much to be done,

and nothing I can really do that matters.

Lord, open my eyes.

God gives me time-outs, and He forcibly pries open my eyes.  Sitting in a pew, or under a sick child, I have been forced to SIT, to be still and open ears and eyes.  Now, sitting at home, I fight the stillness, but not as hard as I once did. I know that stillness is soul medicine.

Paul prays for hearts unsatisfied and blind like mine:

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of his power toward us who believe.  (Eph 1:18-19)

Our Jesus-- what He has done for us, what He is doing now, and what He plans for the future-- HE is what the eyes of our hearts so long to see.  He is the Gift to which all others point. He is the final proof that our God is a God of extravagant grace and boundless mercy.

There is often grief mixed in with the noticing, when I consider the flower or the daughter in bloom and remember the dust to which all things return.  The dust makes me afraid to notice, to open my heart to things that shall crumble.

It’s all crumbling, isn’t it? It always was.

But, stay with me. Look with me. Do not close your eyes.

Zoom out.

Consider the whole picture. Consider the God who created the world and entered the world and died for the world and is making all things new. Consider His Story, and our small place in it.  Consider your life given, by grace, and the new life we have in Christ, by grace, and the promises of life eternal that are ours, by the grace of God in Christ Jesus. 

The shadows become smaller as we see that they are temporary. 

He is making all things new.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up in Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the surpassing riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  (Ephesians 2:4-7)

What does God want to do with us?

He wants to use us.

To conquer the world? To overcome sin and death?

No, He has done that in Christ.

He wants to use us to show the world the surpassing riches of His grace. 

He wants us to live with open hands and open eyes, and to receive.

To see.

To take Him in.

He is the great gift, and each one of His other gifts are a drop from the same fountain.

Be still today, and notice.

Trace your fingers along the edges of the gifts.

Are there truly no gifts in your life right now? 

As you miss the gifts of yesterday, can you look up at the giver?

When you ask Him for sight, what do you see?

The tasks truly can wait while you let God restore your sight.

In Him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which He lavished on us.  (Eph 1:7-8a)

Lord, open our eyes, we pray, because our lives truly do depend on it.