How a weak adjective helped restore my focus

What does it mean to be a good mother? To live this season well?

What will my kids remember, what forms of pouring out will fill them up in ways that matter?

I ask these questions when we pause from school. I try to take a breath, to orient myself again towards the most important things. 

What does it mean to live well, today? Answers come at me from all directions like wild animals. 

Have you seen their bedrooms? They need better daily habits; hospitality and service begins in the home, do they even understand that?

Note the conflict! We should talk more about compassion, self control, and forgiveness in this place. Managing one’s own body and spirit is probably the most important thing, really.

But also, the future is coming; do they even know what they’re going to do after high school? They should be asking questions, exploring options, feeling it all out NOW! Don’t waste the life you have been given, children!

Wait, what about playfulness? The checklists can strangle a human spirit! We MUST learn to live and play and be small together. This is how we learn to live under the gospel, to breathe in grace together- God upholds the world, we do not!

So I am over here cultivating an atmosphere of…

productive, driven, mindful, playful grace …. ???  Sure.

What do you do when it ALL matters? 

When you find yourself as a human with limits and impossible, important, competing, valuable goals?

------

The other day I was cleaning the school room and I came across this old piece of paper.

“I love how you are always there in the morning.” - Peter

Hard pause.

I could notice the handwriting and spelling: has it even improved, am I failing him in this area?
I could notice that this idea I had once about saying nice things to each other in writing was a good one, and I could wonder why haven’t we continued to do that, and I could start a plan to implement another system, another habit…

But instead I noticed the adjective, the plain, old adjective: there. 

He loves how mom is always there.

Not always patient, always fun, always teaching, always organized, or even always sane!

Just… there.

“I love how you are always there in the morning.”

----

Can showing up daily, imperfectly, really be enough? Can this blind, staggering best-guessing parenting somehow really bless these kids, really result in faithful functional adults?

Fear drives me so much in my parenting.  I don’t want to choose the wrong things, to miss the big things, to mishandle the important things and yet I feel like I do that very thing constantly.  If their success depends on my righteousness or enoughness, the weight of it all will crush me. But what if it doesn’t? What if their lives are complicated equations that God is working out, and I am just a factor, and the Creator of all things can take not only my faithfulness but even my brokenness and work it into the equation for their good?

 If i can remember that He is the Author here, 

that He loves them more than I do, 

that He uses crap for fertilizer, 

then maybe I can keep showing up, imperfectly, relentlessly.

God, grant us the courage, morning after morning, to be there.

*Confession- this post was delayed in publishing because I chased the rabbit trail question “Is the word ‘there’ an adjective or an adverb?”  There are plenty of uses for the word “there,” and they’re complicated. So there.

Grace Frees Me

Grace frees me to be the child that I am and to ask my Father for help. (John Kleinig)

What is grace?

Grace: unmerited, unearned, undeserved favor of God.

Grace, given through Jesus Christ, to sinners, even me.

Grace frees me.

Grace frees us.

 Grace frees us to be honest.

I have found that I waste entirely too much energy trying to hide my weaknesses, trying to make myself seem better or holier or stronger than I actually am.

Being honest, brutally honest, is terrifying, and I think it is so terrifying that it would be impossible…but, God:

But God, being rich in mercy, 

because of the great love with which he loved us, 

even when we were dead in our trespasses, 

made us alive together with Christ— 

by grace you have been saved— (Ephesians 2:4-5)

That acceptance I want?  That security I want?

That approval from God? I already have it in Christ.

I am fully known and fully loved. I do not have to hide any more. I do not have to downplay my weaknesses and exaggerate my strengths. I do not have to waste energy contorting my body and my spirit to make myself perfect, or to appear perfect.

And neither do you, dear Christian.

“Our justification does not depend on our piety and our spiritual performance but on Christ and His performance. We can therefore face up to our recurring failure to live as His holy people and people of prayer. In fact, our failure Is meant to teach us to ask for what we lack and receive everything from Christ.”(Grace Upon Grace, Kleinig, p. 39)

----

When Jesus says, "Let the little children come," may we hear and know that we are included in that invitation! The little people inside us, the scared children that we try to hide under adult costumes, they are welcome! In God's presence, we are free to be small, dirty, whiney, messy. He welcomes us as we are and takes us on his lap and teaches us to simply BE in his presence, small, and so very loved. 

Praise be to God,

who loves and welcomes children,

who loves and welcomes us.

Amen.

Dear Sin-Sick Soul

Dear sin-sick soul,

soul afraid,

soul staring wide-eyed at death, 
at sin exposed:

You there, with the knees sore and hands dirty from weeding, weeding, always weeding... are you discouraged, when the weeds keep coming back?

but I'm such a big helper!

Do you fear because of the strong ones, the ones that will not give up their roots? You pluck off the top and cover the rest, you smooth down the surface, but you know what is underneath. The roots, growing stronger, too strong for your hands or even your shovel. You fear the day when it breaks through the surface again, where everyone can see.

Stop it.

Just... stop.

You are not the gardener.

You are in the Gardener's care.

It is God who will finish this thing.

Those weeds that seek your destruction, that sin-sickness that threatens to devour you-- it is too much for you. But it is not too much for Him.

Safe in His grace, let His Word diagnose that ugliness, and fear it, fear it so that it will drive you to Him, to help and healing.

Lay down your tools and your crutches, and see the powerlessness of your own two hands.

Be still.

Wait on the Lord with open hands and infested heart.

Wait- and remember who you are.

Who- by grace- you are.

You are a child of God, weak and loved.

You are covered in the perfect forgiveness of Jesus.

Your sins have been answered for with His own blood,

blood that gets down to the deepest roots, destroying evil and growing new life.

Your sin-sickness, your terminal illness is no match for Him.

Jesus came precisely for this: to seek and save the lost-

to seek and save YOU.

It is God who will finish this thing.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you 

will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

Phillipians 1:6

---
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

(1 Peter 5)

originally published 5/2014

My Weakness His Strength: The Heaviness of Motherhood

“I'm the Mom. I can't afford to be weak. 

I have so many responsibilities on my shoulders that if I am weak, 

well then...

everything collapses.”

-- Jenny, commenting on the first post in this series

How many of you relate to this pressure, this terrible pressure?

I know that pressure. I’m the mom, I can’t break down or everything will fall apart.
I have to be strong for their sakes. I have keep going, to hold this all together because if I don’t, then what? Sure, the stress is leaking out of the corner of my eyes and I’m counting the minutes until bedtime.
Sure I was just praying and crying in my room, but now I will wash my face and put on a smile while I make them lunch.

Oh, I know that pressure.
And I can’t tell you to shrug it off, either. I really wish I could. I wish I could tell  all of us that we can just take a break from being mom today, just ignore and neglect them, and it won’t really matter in the long run. I wish I could tell you that they are tough and they don’t really need mom as much as they think they do. I wish I could tell you to lighten up.

the weight of it!

But it’s true. Being a mother is a heavy job.
We can’t just set it down and run away for a little while, until we feel healthy enough to pick it up again.
We have to do it sick, depressed, grieving, doubting. We have to do it with wounds and questions and unmet needs of our own.

Children are just so NEEDY.

What happens in your house when mom is needy, too?

In my house, it goes one of two ways:

1. I hide it, or at least I attempt to hide it.
I pretend I am fine, and get things done in a goat-like manner, barreling on through till bedtime, and letting my words and my attitude injure my family left and right along the way. I hope that I will just sleep it off, and if I do, I just excuse the whole thing as if it were acceptable under the heading “mama just had a bad day.” And I hope that their injuries are minor enough that they will forget them just as quickly.

2. I talk about it.
I can tell my family what is going on in my body or in my heart (if I know!) and I can ask for help. I can apologize for the little injuries, the unkind words spoken out of pain or exhaustion. I can ask for their help and their prayers. Yes, even the little people.

Brutal honesty here: #2 is a new concept to me, and I won’t pretend I chose it over #1 every time.
It sounds so nice on paper, so humble and honorable and easy… until it is time to actually DO it. When I’m the weak one, the one with the need (that my pride still tells me I shouldn't have in the first place,) fessing up to those around me seems impossible. It seems like something that takes entirely more courage than I actually have.

But Jesus says, “Let the little children come,” and you are one of those children. He says, “Come to me, and I will give you rest,” and He knows how to give rest to weary mothers. We may not receive that vacation on the beach that we think we need, but He will give us rest, through His Word, and through other people. (Accepting that second one- that’s the challenge, isn't it? Wait, the first one is not so easy either.)

Grace frees us to ask Him for help, and then to accept that help, even when it comes through other people. He has not given us one single thing to bear that we must bear alone.

Are you weary today?

• Remember first, who you are in Christ. By grace you have been saved, and now, you are fully known and fully loved, even with the heaviness that you carry. Does the heaviness seem to inflame the sin and selfishness in your own heart? Bring that heart to Him, again, and hear Him welcome you.
• Second, remember who THEY are in Christ: those children you are loving and serving. Remember that God Himself has also committed to finish the work that He has begun in them. Yes, you are an important part of it, but the weight of it is on Him. He can use other hands and other means. His faithfulness is their hope, just as it is yours.
• Ask for help. Confess your sins and your need to God, and receive His grace through His Word and through the people around you. Let them see your need, so that they may help you with the gifts that God has given them.

Do you dare to admit it?

What happens in your house when mommy is needy?
Do you need to let someone see your need today?


Coming up next:
What do children learn when they see mom’s weakness?

originally posted on 7/10/12

Just Breathe

Just Breathe...

The Christian life is like breathing in 

(pulling into our souls the life-sustaining power of the Spirit)

 and breathing out 

(expending that life-giving power to others). 

The Christian life cannot function without both actions.

--Robert Benne

priorities

When people ask, “How’s homeschooling?” I find myself with too many things to say, so I say little. “I love and hate it, depending on the day!” “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I feel like I was made for this!”  All true, but I could say so much more!

So here’s a glimpse into our lists and days:

I start with the list of measurable things, the kind that I can check off (oh those lovely checkmarks!)  This is our rough daily schedule, the part that is put on paper:

chores
morning time and devotions
memory work
history or science
math
grammar and writing
read aloud to everyone at lunch or after
advanced math
latin
rhetoric
*check in with all kids regarding independent work: piano, cartography, debate, reading, math facts, handwriting, presentation preparation, exposition, etc

Our days are finally taking shape in a semi-predictable way.  But I am learning so much, and so painfully sometimes, that these measurable things are not always the point, often have to be put aside, for the sake of the other things God sends.

A sampling:
give that lecture about self-control (again)
help the child with feeling of overwhelm
deal with somebody’s temper
balance their need to be noisy with the others’ need for quiet space to focus
vacuum up the dog hair
feed the gecko and pray for the gecko
feed everybody (again)
teach THEM how to feed everybody
rebalance the chore assignments
rethink discipline strategies
navigate more Big Feelings
have Big Conversations about Big Ideas
exercise
make space for friendships and neighbors

Those are a few things I might be called upon to do for the family that do not make the checklist.
And then my personal list of non-measurable never-ending to dos:

Give YOURSELF that lecture about self-control
Deal with YOUR temper or overwhelm
Learn, read, study well so that you can teach
Model that self-control and gentleness you are trying to teach and fess up when you fail!
Discover this job is too big for you (again) and pray for help
Run out of patience (again) and pray for help
Run out of everything, pray and nap
work on your own health/diet so you can love and serve well
Soak up some nature
Bump up against big kid issues; the kind you can’t simply solve with words, reign in with boundaries, or fix with consequences; feel your smallness, pray and commend them to God
Be a wife! Love and support my husband. (sorry it’s at the bottom, hun.)

I see the value of these things that do not make the measurable checklist.  I just want to do them all AND get all the things off the list.

I just want to be squeeze 30 hours of productive work out of a 24 hour day.  And I want do it all perfectly, in a clean house, with children who love each other!

Like nothing else in my life, homeschooling is forcing me to make hard choices about how I spend my time. It’s forcing me to ask, why is THIS on the list? What really matters here? 

All I know is, I’m learning right along with the kids. And I’m not going to get it right every time. Just like they inexplicably forget their math facts, I will inexplicably forget everything I’ve learned about being gentle and flexible, and we will power through, and it will get ugly.

But I will keep pressing forward, relying on the grace of God, celebrating the small victories along the way.

This week, when the boys flailing arms and giggles made it impossible to diagram sentences, I sent them out on the trampoline “for ten minutes,” and then I let them stay for thirty. An hour later, I let them celebrate the end of a math lesson with another trampoline break. Win.

Today, I celebrate that moment when the child who USUALLY shuts down during math or latin corrections ALMOST shuts down but instead... powers through. And it seems miraculous, the way the lesson ended with both of us smiling. (I absolutely could have danced about it, but I played it cool.)

Thank you God for little victories and signs of growth!  Help us as we try to sort out the urgent and the important tasks in our lives.  Help us keep our eyes on You as we continue to ask “what matters here?” and “what is the next right thing?”  May our rest be in you, in your grace alone, as we see so clearly through your son Jesus.   Amen. 

Upheld (depression, again)

Let me tell you about a girl I know.
She has eyes that see the brokenness of this world and a heart that deeply hates what she sees.  She is burdened, maybe even suffocating with the grief she carries.  She wants to make it better, and she tries to, but her efforts don’t seem to make a dent in anything.  And what bothers her even more than being ineffective is that often, sometimes even as she works to right the broken parts of this world, she finds herself tripping over her own brokenness, her plans foiled by a mess that she made by her own self.

And her arms and legs and very heart are caught the web.  Any movement on her part is just wild flailing, but what else can she do?  She could give up in despair, try to sleep it off, and hope that she will wake refreshed and not with fang marks in her neck.  Flail or collapse, pointless activity or abject despair: these seem to be her only options.

This girl is me, when depression takes hold.  It hits me like a storm that comes suddenly and then passes over, It is ugly and dark and scary, but it is over (for now.)  And again, God has been faithful.  I am upheld.

I say that often to my close friends, when the question “how are you doing?” can’t be answered well in a word.

I am upheld.  What do I mean by that?

It’s complicated, this awful grace-filled life.  And when it’s not the time or the place to unburden my soul, to pour out the griefs and complaints, to recount the the faithfulness of God mixed in, to divulge the tangled mess of a heart that doesn’t even know what’s good for its own self and yet is still carried forward by her Father to be at this job or doing this mom thing despite all these glaring weaknesses… I say, I am upheld.

Sometimes, I am a house of cards and I’m sure one more thing will knock me right over, but I haven’t fallen yet.  Every moment that goes by, every push against my house that does NOT make me collapse feels like a miracle, reminds me that God is my helper, and I am upheld.

Sometimes it means: I have just found my way out of the pit and I don’t even know how it happened. My head is lifted up, there is some light in my eyes, and this isn’t my doing. God has again been faithful and sent relief, and yet I know my weakness afresh and its scary. But God is holding me (and He was when I couldn’t feel it, too), and so, I am upheld.

I am upheld: I crawled my way to church (on the inside) and Jesus met me there: He held me and covered me in his own robe, like a soft blanket, he fed me and restored me, He listened to my complaints, and I am upheld.

It is by pure grace that God holds me up, and oh how I need it.

I am re-reading one of my favorite books with my Sunday night book club, Grace upon Grace. And it occurs to me that I am STILL fighting some of the same battles with myself that I was fighting years ago when I read this book.  I am weary of my own weakness.  I want to graduate. I want to say that I WAS weak and loved, but now I am strong and loved and independant, too! I grow weary of being a beggar, of being reminded that I am utterly dependant on God for everything.  I wish I had just one solid mature independent area in my own self that I could count on to be stable and right and GOOD in my own strength. I’d sure feel more secure, or at least happier, that way.  But that is not the way of faith, the way of grace and trust and reliance on the gifts He gives.

Insead, we are invited to be upheld. We are invited to be children, and to be held.

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
    my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
    too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord
    from this time forth and forevermore. (Psalm 131)

I think of my son, who cries when he’s tired and takes comfort in being held. Tasks undone, questions unanswered do not bother him in the least: he is held, and so he rests.

This same posture is taken by one Benedictine sister retired from a university professorship on account of a debilitating illness who said, “For so many years, I was taught to ‘master’ subjects. But who can ‘master’ beauty, or peace or joy? This psalms speaks of the grace of childhood, not of being childish. One of my greatest freedoms is to see that all the pretenses and defenses I put up in the first part of my life, I can spend the rest of my life taking down. This psalm tells me that I’m a dependent person, and that it’s not demeaning.” (as quoted by Kathleen Norris, THe Cloister Walk p.106)

We have not outgrown childlike dependence on God. We have not graduated. But take heart! God does not demand that we graduate- He invites us to watch Him provide! He calls us as His children to trust in Him, to wait on Him in hope, to look to Him for provision.  We are his children, holding on to Him with our feeble grip, even as He holds us with the almighty strength of His love.

It is by pure grace that God holds us up, and oh, how we need it.

Be held, and upheld in Him today.

A gust of icy wind (on Depression)

I (re)learned something this week. Maybe if I write it down I will remember it forever.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

can vanish in an instant.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

is not a given.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

is precious when I have it.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

is not the reason I am loved.

Fall. My favorite tree is bright red and I can see it out of our kitchen window.

Lovely, deep red predominates, but the second glance reveals orange, yellow, and even green toward the middle.   The blue October sky as a backdrop-- it is a breathtaking sight.

Today I sit in a lawnchair by this tree.

The wind is gentle, but a strong burst comes, and it begins.

The stripping.

Red leaves cascade around me. Lovely, for a moment, but I see what is happening.

The stripping.

I think of this stripping, and how I have felt it in my own heart.

My patience, my energy, my zeal for life-- it is shocking how it can all just vanish. When the cold hands of depression reach up and grab me by the ankles, what else can I do?  I fall on my face, and all of my beautiful leaves fell off into the grass. There in the pit, I am left with nothing but my own filthy rags.

I cannot get up and clean the kitchen. I have no sincere smile for my children.

They are unsettled, and I am unsettled, and bare.  And so very cold.

A leaf lands on my computer. What was glorious and red from a distance now reveals to me its imperfections. Rotting spots. Discoloration.  

The stripping continues.

Unlike the tree, I do not stand still and accept the gusts of wind.  It hurts too much, so I question God’s work, His presence. I do not know whether to repent or fight or cower or quit, so I try to do everything at once, until I collapse, exhausted.

And then, the seasons change, orchestrated by the loving hand of my Father.  

The climate changes, and suddenly, I can feel the sun again.

I did not make the season change again. I cannot call up the sun. But today, it shines, and as it shines God fills in the coldest parts of my heart, sending the truth of His love that I already know down deeper, deeper.

As for me, I am poor and needy

but the Lord takes thought for me

He is my help and my deliverer 

(Psalm 40:17)

He who directs the seasons also directs my ways, even when I do not understand them.

In this, I can rest.

Weak and Loved.

Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.

Hide us in Your Word, in Christ, that we may weather all seasons. Amen.

If you know exactly what I'm talking about, read all of Psalm 40.
Click here for more of my thoughts on depression

re-posted from 11/2013
re-lived often.

The little sinner

A little boy stands wide-eyed before his father.  His dress pants are wrinkled, and he is wearing no shirt.  Morning rebellion, pride, anger, and unrepentence sent him to an early nap.  Now, he must stand before his Father; he must give account for the actions that sent him to an early nap.

Father is stern, and he lists the complaints against the boy.

“Son, I’ve been told these things. Are they true?”
One by one, Father speaks accusations, and the little boy nods.  He bites back tears, and he nods, nods.

It’s true, it’s true, it’s all true.  

Mother watches, cringes, prays. She aches with the truth of it, she aches with the declaration of consequences, given for his good. (TV and technology banned. Mother does share the burden.)

Finally, Father takes those tiny boy hands, stained, naughty hands, and he guides them, folds them between his.  It’s time to pray.  “Son, you must pray.”

His tiny voice shakes as he prays, “Dear Jesus, please help me to be good.”

The trembling voice, the words, they pierce the heart of the boy’s mother. She wants to hold him, but instead she holds his prayer; the desires of her heart wrap around his. Dear Jesus, please help us to be good.  

Sniffles and silence.

Then, the tiny prayer is built upon, added to- and oh, the importance of this addition!-- that which cannot be known by nature or by effort; more than a desire for improvement, for virtue; Father adds grace. He adds Jesus.

The goodness that is lacking has been covered.  

Jesus; Forgiveness; God with us; Christ for us; these Words are poured out on the little boy with the red eyes and wrinkled pants.  

When the prayer is over, the boy is free.  

Reconciled to God, he turns to his mother, and her hug is a joyful extension of grace-filled Word.  

The little sinner, he is loved.

For further reading
Law and Gospel in the Home

originally published on 9/6/13

Kiddo, Will You Pray for Me?

To be fair, mothers, I don’t think this is entirely our fault, this tendency to think we are the Ultimate Need Meeters for our families and children. Our job starts out this way.

As an expectant mother, my tiny child really is 100% dependent on me, and I am 100% required for his or her survival. The weight of it is on me, and there is nobody that can pick that job up for me, even for one minute, to give me a break.

these days: your turn

We are loved by a God who is with us, right here, in the details of this day that he has given us.

He meets us here.
But are we here to meet him?
It's easy to ache for the past, or to hurry towards the future. But God meets us here, right here.

Stop, look around, and notice where you are.  Get your bearings, and as best as you can, try to see where this little day is in the big picture. Remember that there IS a big picture, and that there will be a finished story, and that God is the author.  As you move from birth through darkness towards redemption, the days will come and go, but will you notice them? And will you take the time to see Him in them?

What is it like where you stand today?
What trials, what grace do you see? Take time to look around.

Carry God's Word into your day and watch as its colors bounce off everything.

This is the day the Lord has made.
It is a gift. It will pass away.
Much that we love will pass away, and yet, the Word of the Lord stands forever.
Safe are we, kept in that Word.
Safe are we, in His eternal hands, hands strong to save.
Yet where we walk is decidedly unsafe.  Bodies fail here, babies die, addictions consume, and hearts break.  It is easy for us to let the darkness cloud our vision.

We must take and read.
We must sit down, and look up, and pray for softened hearts and opened eyes.

These are the days of battle.
These are the days of uncertainty and fear.
And these are the days of mercy and grace,
the days of clinging to His hand and being upheld by His strength.

For he is our God

    and we are the people of his pasture,

    the flock under his care.

Today, if only you would hear his voice,

Do not harden your hearts !

What's happing for you these days?
I'd love to hear your thoughts! (I will post mine tomorrow)

These are the days of waiting for...
These are the days of missing...
These are the days of (doing)..
These are the days of (God's doing)...
These are the days of waiting for God to fix/redeem...
These are the days of inspiration from this song or Scripture...
These are the days of wondering why...
These are the days of gratitude for...

Time out.

What if
this list of things that is never done,
this house that's never clean enough,
this body that's never fit enough,
What if this too, is grace?

What if the grace is in with and under the failing?
What if "success" would be to my harm?

What if God knows I would find rest in my well-ordered house,
that I'd be satisfied with fake rest,
shallow rest,
and so for my good,
He sent me dust, and sticky toilet seats,
and boys who fight,
and vanishing library books?

"Come to me," He says, "and I will give you rest."

But there is no time to come, I grumble;
there is only trying to get caught up,
trying to earn the rest,
and the finish line keeps moving,
and the invitation feels like an insult.

But the rest that God gives is a rest I do not control,
or earn,
or deserve.

It is a rest given,
Given right here in the thick of it,
on His terms, not mine.

He refuses to calm the chaos,
but instead, He gives me Jesus,
right here.  Jesus.

Perfectionism shouts orders;
my "reputation" worries;
my check-list screams for attention;
and God duct-tapes their stupid faces and sends them away

and He says,
"take and eat,
rest and trust,
be still and know,
I am God."

Father,
Here in the world of undone chores I am so easily undone. I need you, the rest you give me in Jesus.  Teach me to plan for soul-rest, and to fight for it. And when I am too weak or too distracted to fight, then please God, fight for me, even if you must fight with me. Drag me to those green pastures and still waters, and restore my soul as only you can. Amen.

Just Come

Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. 

Whoever comes to me will never go hungry,

and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.

But as I told you, you have seen me and still you do not believe.  

All those the Father gives me will come to me, 

and whoever comes to me I will never drive away. 

For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me.  

And this is the will of him who sent me, that I shall lose none of all those he has given me, 

but raise them up at the last day. 

For my Father’s will is that everyone 

who looks to the Son and believes in him 

shall have eternal life, 

and I will raise them up at the last day.”

John 6:35-40

What does God require of me?
COME.
Not behave, then come.
Not fix my heart, not sort it all out. Not buck up. Not be strong.

Just. Come.

And He says "whoever comes I will never drive away."

Think on this with me today. Read the verse again slowly.

Don't skim.

It is God's will that whoever comes to Him
(Me! You!)
shall NOT be lost,

It is God's will that we come,
and
It is God's will that we are cared-for,
kept safe in him,
redeemed and restored and healed and helped,
and finally, raised up on the last day.

We are in His hands. We only need "come" and He will do the rest.

Let's rest in that today.

Father,

You invite me to come to You, through Your Son. Melt my stubborn heart, and teach me to come to you as your child. Grant me a heart that repents, trusts, and clings to You in all things.  Keep me safe in Your grace, that I may know Your peace. Amen.

(reposted from 9/12)