Guest Blogging

Last Sunday was the first of a new sermon series by Pastor Gary Hewins at our church. The series is called "Identity Theft," and it's going to be 12 weeks of discovering your identity in Christ, and not letting the enemy steal who we were created to be.

As part of the series, I'm going to be blogging on our church's website about each week's individual sermon. My post on the first sermon, "We Are God's Workmanship,"can be found here.

In case you're interested in checking it out, I'll let you know each week when the post it up on the church site (www.CBChighlands.com). Feel free to browse around the church site - we have sermon downloads and live stream for our services, which I personally think are amazing. (No bias here.) And since we're all new-fangled and such, we even have our own app! Just search "Community Bible Church Highlands" in the App Store and download for free.

I'll let you know each week as the post is up - if you're interested in checking it out. I'm very excited to be a part of this 12-week journey, and am praying that my insecurities will be broken by the end of this.

Thanks for checking it out - and here's to finding our true identity in Christ alone!

Mothering

Even at seven and one-and-a-half years old, I still check on them a couple times a night to make sure they're breathing. Especially if one of them is sick or has had any kind of medicine.

I secretly get excited when one is sick because it means they will just lay with me in their PJ's and snuggle.

At the park or after school, if I see or hear about another kid being mean-spirited to mine, the Mama Bear in me comes out and I want to throw blows and that that child down. Even if they are two.

I compare every other kid I meet to mine, and always come to the same conclusion - mine are better. (No offense.)

When I think about life with either of them, it seems so gray, boring and incomplete.

I will spoil them rotten as often as possible simply because I love watching their faces light up.

I get sad that I can't remember well what they were really like even just a year ago; they change so much...so fast.

Even when they resist, or erupt in tears, I do what's best for them because I'm raising people, not just having babies.

I sympathize when my head tells me not to. I discipline when my heart resists.

I cave when their big, blue eyes bat at me and they say "Mommy" in that sweet and tender voice.

I hold strong when their big, blue eyes bat at me and they say "Mommy" in that sweet and tender voice.

I'm a Mom. It's what I do.

There are two fundamental truths that Mothers will continue to pass down through the end of time. One is that regardless of the situation, the decision or the outcome...there is always something for a Mom to feel guilty about. The other is that every Mom will fail miserably in some way, shape or form. And our daughters and sons will recognize that failure and be determined to make it better when they have kids.

But what we fail to recognize in our guilt and failure -- what will give us comfort and relieve some of the pressure -- is that this has been the cycle since Eve. It's a continuous ebb-and-flow of doing great, and failing greatly. Thousands of years later, the cry is the same. I'm sure Eve's daughter at some point said, "How could Mom have been such an idiot?!"

Sometimes, as I'm scratching Jaana's back, I wonder what the cry to her child will be. Will she say, "I swear I will never be on the computer as much as your Grandma!" Or, "She never just played Barbies with me. All I ever wanted was for her to sit and play Barbies."

As all mothers have done from beginning of time to today, we do the best we know how to do. And somedays our best is better than others. We love our children with as much love as we can hold in our human form. We make fools out of ourselves for them; we also take them for granted. We smother them with love and affection; we also put them to bed at night and wonder if they even felt like we loved them at all that day. We notice every little detail of their faces; we also study them some mornings and wonder when all the freckles erupted, or when they got so tall. We think we know every little thing about them; and then realize we might not really know them at all.

It's the best, worst, hardest and most rewarding job to have. The only way to do it and do it remotely well is through prayer and the wisdom and strength of Christ. Because really, at the end of the day, knowing I'll fail them eventually at their greatest point of need scares me to death. But if I pursue each day with Jesus, then I know that even when I do fail, He will be there to mend their broken pieces and stop the hemorrhaging the way only He can. He's the ultimate Mama when our humanity gets in the way of our own mothering.

As I celebrate this Mother's Day, I'm asking for a fresh anointing and realization of what motherhood means. I don't want to take any moment for granted. This is a precious job I've been given. Rather, a most precious job I've been blessed with. And if I could do it free of the chains of guilt and failure, what a valuable legacy I could leave with them.

"Lord, I serve you. I serve you just as my mother did. 

You have set me free from the chains of my suffering." 

(Psalm 116:16)

And It's a Good Thing, Because I Don't Hunt

I love it when I’m reading the Bible for one thing, and another thing altogether leaps off the page. And it gives you a revelation...not about the thing you went to the Word for, but you just suddenly know it’s important. And you get excited, because wow, why hadn’t I seen that before?

That is what happened to me this morning. (As I was trying to ignore the babbling Paxton was doing at SIX O’CLOCK AM.)

I was re-reading Deuteronomy 6, 7 & 8 (don’t you always start there, too?) and suddenly this obscure little verse got my attention:

“The Lord your God will clear away these nations before

you little by little. You may not make an end of them at

once, lest the wild beasts grow too numerous for you.”

- Deuteronomy 7:22

The Message translation says it this way:

“God, your God, will get rid of these nations, bit by bit.

You won’t be permitted to wipe them out all

at once lest the wild animals overtake you.”

- Deuteronomy 7:22

And I read this and almost shouted “Eureka!”

So often I pray that God would wipe out all my enemies at once; that all my troubles and problems would be removed immediately. I ask why all the stuff over here is great, but this whole side is still a hot mess? I always trust God knows what He’s doing. Always believe He’s got a reason for everything. But every once in a great while He provides a real, tangible answer to the “why?” question.

And today, He told me.

“I don’t want you to be overtaken by the wild animals.”

He knows that if all the chaos, confusion and problems disappear instantly, in their wake will be the ramifications of them suddenly disappearing. In His infinite wisdom, He knows the wild animals would multiply without people to hunt and kill them. And one day, as I’m drinking coffee in my cozy little plot of land (while my husband and kids are tilling the earth with oxen, natch), a wild herd would suddenly rise up and leave a cloud of dust in their wake and simply overtake me. And leave a huge mess in my kitchen. (Which would lead to weeping and gnashing of teeth.)

So He clears away the nations, the enemies, the troubles and the problems...but He does it little by little, bit by bit, so that when each one is removed, it’s truly gone (and all the beasts that go with it). Then the freedom that comes from it is true freedom. There is no fear of something new and unexpected coming suddenly, no waiting for the other shoe to drop. I am free indeed.

He is the ultimate Project Manager.

Something interesting about this verse is the fact that God will get rid of the nations, but WE won’t be permitted to wipe them out all at once. It’s a p-a-r-t-n-e-r-s-h-i-p. God rarely does the work without our involvement. He wants us to participate in the battle. He’ll do the hard part, but we can’t sit back on our heels just waiting for Him to do it all, while we enjoy our grapes and servants fanning us. We have to fight, too.

(I could go on and on about this point, but I’ll save it for another post, another day.)

The other thing that struck me is the fact He specifically said it’s the wild animals that would grow too numerous. When I think of wild animals, I think of ugly, out-of-control beasts. Vicious and rabid. With no loyalty; they cannot be tamed. And they stink to high heaven.

I started thinking about past prayers, where I had prayed for God to just slash and slay His way through my life...removing people, situations and circumstances left and right. If God had done exactly what I asked and everything was suddenly fixed at once, the wild beasts would have surely come. The ugly, bad-mannered, stinking beasts of pride, selfishness, arrogance, egotism, recklessness, discontent, ungratefulness, laziness. These animals would have appeared instantly, impossible to tame, vicious, rabid to me and those around me.

He loves me too much to let that happen.

“You shall not be in dread of them, for the Lord your

God is in your midst, a great and awesome God.”

- Deuteronomy 7:22

Selah.

Ready or Not, Here I Come

Greg has been preparing for the past few weeks for his first-ever Sunday sermon. He knew the topic he would preach on immediately, and with enthusiasm and passion he dove into studying and preparation. His sermon is going to be based on Genesis 3, and the first question God ever asked, “where are you?”

It’s an amazing question, and I am so looking forward to hearing Greg’s breakdown of it. He has worked so hard, and this is a subject that has been up-front and center in his life, and continues to be. But as we talked during his preparation for the sermon, and old memory came back to me related to it...and it was extremely pivotal for me.

In the scripture Greg’s sermon leads with, Adam and Eve have sinned. They did what they knew they shouldn’t do. As soon as they did it, they knew it was wrong. Very wrong. So they went to hide in the garden, making themselves coverings for their nakedness. They sinned. They knew it. They hated it. They were too shamed for God to know what they did. So they hid.

The memory that came to my mind related to this is from a prayer group I was involved in before I ever met Greg. A group of 5-8 girls and I would get together almost weekly to pray and get closer to God and each other. I always absolutely treasured these times. No matter what was happening in life, God used the group to bring us closer to each other and to Himself. No matter what.

So I remembered this one prayer time, and it was during one of the darkest times of my life. It was a time that I was in a Pit, and I basically dove into it head first. Almost willingly. Almost excitedly. ALMOST. It was, to date, the worst time of my entire life.

As I was at the bottom of this pit, I knew the difference between where I should be and where I was. I was trying to claw my way out but couldn’t get a firm footing. However, I didn’t want anyone else to know about it. I was afraid of what they would think. So I hid. I literally and figuratively hid. I continued to go to church, church events and my little prayer group. But at the same time, I would wear weird things and act weird ways, and hid in my Pit and thought I was doing a good job of keeping the whole thing from God and my friends.

Until.

One night we all gathered for prayer. I had a difficult day in my Pit, and was trying to focus on God but really was having a hard time. Suddenly, a note came to me from one of the girls in the group who I knew had no idea what I was doing. It was during a particularly silent time of prayer, so I was a bit taken aback by the note as well as who it came from. The note said,

“Monica,

Why are you hiding?

- God”

I instantly broke down.

A couple weeks later, my roommate was buying a new car. She wanted some moral support during the process, so I went with her as she went to sign the final papers on the car she decided to buy. The car salesman was a pastor who worked part-time in ministry and full-time in car sales to make ends meet. My roommate and this pastor became pretty close during the car-buying process, so after she signed on the dotted line, the three of us went to lunch to celebrate. In the middle of lunch at Marietta Diner, out of the clear blue sky, the pastor/car salesman turned to me and said,

“When are you going to get your life together to

serve God the way you know you’re supposed to?”

I instantly broke down again. And in the middle of my complimentary spanikopita.

I don’t know why we do it...play this divine version of hide-and-seek with the Almighty, thinking “I’m really going to really trick Him this time!” We never do. Ever. But He’s the consummate professional Daddy. He knows exactly where we’ve chosen to hide. He can hear us breathing and stifling our sounds. Yet He still counts to 20 to give us time to hide. Then He says, “Ready or not, here I come!” And He comes. He comes slowly. First He acknowledges all the places we are not...almost teasingly, saying, “Of course she wouldn’t hide there!” And then just when we think “we outsmarted Him this time!” He gingerly walks up to the place that we thought was the darkest, the most secure, the most private...and He opens it gently and says, “Found you.”

He always finds us.

Always.

It’s like when a baby covers his eyes and thinks you can’t see him because he can’t see you.

But He’s the Father. He sees everything.

I do not live in the past, and firmly believe I’m forgiven for the things of my past...just like every single one of us are if we choose to accept forgiveness through Jesus Christ. But sometimes I’m grateful that the sting still feels as fresh as it did all those years ago. It makes me grateful for the Rescuer. It makes me grateful for the Forgiver. The Redeemer. The Visionary of My Future. It makes me grateful for the times He found me, even when I thought I didn’t want to be found. Or deserved to be found. And I’ve kept that note in my journal as a reminder.

He found me anyway.

Ready or not, He came.

“I once was lost, but now I’m found.

Was blind, but now I see.”

(c)1772, John Newton, “Amazing Grace”

That's What Friends Are For

I have absolutely no idea how it happened.

One day I’m waking up at 6:am to have quiet time by myself, coffee and Bible in hand, giddy about the alone time...and the next day I’m going to bed at MIDNIGHT (gasp!) and continue to do so for weeks at a time! What has happened to me? And I don’t like it! And all this punctuation leaves me feeling alert and hyper!

I am best friends with Routine. Actually, Routine, Structure and Consistency are my BFF’s. School started last week and even though I’m so full and busy, I am so happy because Routine has come back and is having sleep-overs! I’m hoping she’ll stay for a long-term visit. But Structure and Consistency have blown me off and are hanging out with the bad kids. They’ve been peer-pressured over to the dark side and I don’t know if I can get them back.

I used to be the girl who would beat Greg to bed and lights would be out by 10:30 at the latest. He would lovingly (or not) call after me, “Goodnight MeMaw!” and I’d chuckle and fall asleep laughing because I was so happy to be in my bed. Then 6:am would come on the alarm and I’d leap out of bed giddily (is that a word?) to get my coffee and quiet time.

Lately however, I have seen 10:30 come and wave goodbye to it saying “See ya, Party Pooper!” Then around 11:30 or 12 I’ll realize I really should go to bed. But then I’m afraid to. I guess “afraid” isn’t the right word...but when I sit and realize I should go to sleep, a feeling comes over me like, “But why? You won’t really fall asleep forever anyway.” It’s so bizarre. I’ve never not wanted to go to bed before.

EVER!

Then 6:45 comes in the morning and leaps out at me like a lion. I hear Paxton on the monitor and realize I have to immediately jump out of bed in order to:

1. Change son’s diaper
2. Feed son bottle
3. Make daughter breakfast
4. Make daughter school lunch
5. Make self coffee (why is this fourth??)
6. Feed son breakfast
7. Change self’s clothes
8. Brush self’s teeth
9. Clean kitchen (I hate leaving the house with a dirty kitchen)
10. Take daughter to school

And I vow each and every morning that Gosh-darnit! I’m soooo going to bed by 10:30 tonight! And I’m using less exclamation points from now on!

But I don’t!

I’ve suddenly done a Topsy-Turvy on myself and I’m quite unsure how I feel about it.

It might have something to do with all the recent changes we’ve endured (and by recent I mean the past 10 months), or all that I have to do in the next 10 days, or Jaana’s first-grader sleepover on September 10, or other things related to the number 10 that I’m unaware of at this particular moment.

Or maybe it’s because I take my vitamins too late in the evening.

Who. Knows.

I guess I’m going to have to go trolling over to the dark side while I’m up late anyhoo to find Structure and Consistency. Because without them around, it’s a lot easier to let Procrastination stay much than he should.

(and yes, of course Procrastination is a he.)

Really, I'm Not That Hungry

When I was growing up, my parents were quite the fans of the buffet. Particularly, we’d go quite often to The Royal Fork (oh yes, that was really the name) (and was actually preceded by the name King’s Table, natch). Sunday dinners, extended family get-togethers, vacations would all end up somehow at The Royal Fork. My family would load up on everything from jello salad to turkey and stuffing to pasta. The thing that was always odd to me was that the selection was so wide and varied. I mean, I liked most of the types of food that were there, but not all at one time. I love me some pot roast and mashed potatoes, but not with an egg roll appetizer. When you lump it all together into one single-file line, it’s more than a tad overwhelming. And unappetizing.

Like, gag me with The Royal Spoon.

I feel like have quite a full plate right now (I’ve shifted into the figurative plate now, not literal, FYI). And I feel like my life is sort of like The Royal Fork. After such a fun summer, everything has sort of hit at once and my plate is overflowing. The gravy is running into the salad and my creamed corn is running off the plate. And all I can think is “ew.” And, “can’t I put each thing on it’s own plate and eat it on its own slowly throughout the week?”

But that’s not how things work at a buffet.

At a buffet, you get it all at once. For one low price, you pile it up and wolf it down, and the only break is that if you want seconds you get to pick a fresh, clean plate.

I’m not really sure why our lives (meaning my and Greg’s [is that grammatically correct?]) have gone from seven-course to smorgasbord. It seems that God has placed us in His own personal Royal Fork. Like every week we load up on everything He wants to serve us...and then it takes a week to digest it all. I’m not sure if that’s what He meant by “having life more abundant” or not. Sometimes I just want to push the plate back, say “thanks but no thanks, I’m really not all that hungry today.” But how can you say no at the King’s Table?

I’m trying to be flexible, and to train my “spiritual stomach” to handle all the offerings, but I have to admit it’s been a smidge difficult. I don’t want as much as is on my plate. And I’m trying really, really hard to focus on the Truth instead of how I feel (full) - and understand that sometimes God is simply saying:

“And at this very moment, God deeply desires to lead you from 

trouble and to spread your table with your favorite food.”

(Job 36:16)

So I accept the clean plate, again and again, week after week, and belly up to the line for my second helping at The King’s Table.

“Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see --Blessed are you who run to him.”

(Psalm 34:8)