The Sacred Art of Standing in Line

If there is one good thing to be said about government offices, it is that they often provide ample time for one to take a break from the busy pace of life.  

Yep. Ample time. 

All you have to do is grab that little paper number and stake out one of the comfy stacking chairs which inhabit almost every government office, and that busy pace of life we all work so hard to maintain will crawl into a corner of that sterile and cheerless room.  

And die.  

As I was thinking the other day as I basked in one such office, it's sort of a Christmas miracle to have an hour of free time to myself this time of year!

When I say "to myself", I of course include the lady with tuberculosis sitting to my left who keeps coughing into my purse.  

And the kid kicking the back of my seat.

And the guy across from me who smells like Woodstock and french fries. (Incidentally, it's amazing how long some people can stare at you without blinking!)

Really.  There's no place I'd rather spend an afternoon.  Lovely place.  There is even a nice televised loop of free public service announcements about how to buckle a seat belt and the importance of filling up your tank with gas BEFORE leaving for a trip.   So helpful!  

And so here I sit, contemplating the universe. Well, actually right now I am mainly contemplating numbers.

Like the vast expanse between the numbers 27 (just called) and 53 (mine), and the number of things on my to-do-list that grew up, got married, and had babies since I got here, and the number of gray hairs I will have when/if I ever leave.    

OK.  Just in case you didn't catch the sarcasm thus far, let me spell this out.  I loathe the way our government sucks the productivity out of my life every single time we interact.

It makes my throat constrict just thinking about it.

Be that as it may, after much contemplation I cannot agree that standing in line (or sitting in line, or rocking back and forth while curled into the fetal position in line) is in itself a bad thing.  

It seems to me that God has allowed many, if not most, of our human interactions to be some variation of standing in line.  Either we are standing in front of someone, impeding their progress, stealing their time, and forcing them to rearrange their priorities--a "service" I performed for my parents for the first 20 years of my life and which my children are currently performing for me--or we are standing behind someone, making accommodations for them, as I began to do when I got married and have done more and more as each one of my seven children arrived.

At age 22, I believed I was a generally benevolent, kind, and altruistic person.  At age 42, I can say that I have only begun to plumb the depths of my selfishness and the narrowness of my heart for others.  My change in perspective was made possible by the gift of having my progress impeded, my time stolen, and my priorities rearranged on a regular basis for 20 years as I "stood in line" behind the needs of my husband, children, friends, family members, and fellow congregants.  

You could say that this sort of waiting has little to do with the queue at Walmart or the doctor's office, or the Department of Motor Vehicles, but I disagree.

When you start to look for them, lines are everywhere.  

They almost seem designed into the process of being human (for Biblical examples, think of the waiting endured by Moses and Abraham, Joseph, Sarai, Elizabeth and Zechariah, David, and Jonah, to name a few).

Human beings need to have their fingers pried off the illusion that they can control the events and relationships in their lives. God has means of teaching this to us in the daily sacrifices we make for the people who cross our paths--both those we know and love intimately, and those we share space with for a small time.

Lines are just a tiny way of saying "my life for yours" as we watch a cashier check a price for the gentleman in in front of us at Walmart, or as we say a prayer for the patient who is holding our doctor in an extra moment of conversation...

...or as we share a wink and a smile with the little tyke who is doggedly kicking the back of our chair at the Department of Motor Vehicles:)

Lines put us behind and before each other and make us stay there long after we want to, facing both one another and ourselves.  I have had conversations at Tim Horton's, in the waiting room at my car repair shop, and at the airport that I never would have chosen had I not been held captive by the persistent proximity of a line of strangers.  

With enough practice, I hope to meet the prospect of a long line with a hint of expectation instead of a load of irritation.  Between those small inconveniences and the larger ones provided by the little (and big!) ones whom I know and love, maybe I will one day achieve the kind of graciousness I see in people like my mother.  

She took care of my grandmother in her home for eight years.  During those years, Mom took her whole life and the place she could have traveled with my dad, the events she could have attended, the skills she could have honed, the gifts she had been given, and she put them all in front of a tiny, frail lady with dementia and said, "I will wait right here."

And I have rarely seen such love, except perhaps from a God who lived in perfect freedom outside the bounds of time for all eternity, and yet voluntarily bound Himself into the suffocating linear constrictions of minutes, hours, and days to show us how to walk in a line with each other--face to face or shoulder to shoulder, one slow tick at a time, one divinely appointed interruption after another.

He could have chosen to relate to us from a distance at His convenience and in His element, but instead laid down His rights and entered into history at one of its most inconvenient and unpleasant points, pressing His great power and majesty into a humble lifetime, measured day by day in big and small sacrifices for the lost ones who needed to see how it was done. 

Perhaps He wanted to show us that the real adventure of life lies in the unexpected pacing and surprising plot lines that keep popping into the comfortable and convenient narratives we try so hard to write for ourselves--or maybe I am just trying to comfort myself in the face of all the hours I have spent waiting for things that didn't happen on schedule, happened differently than I expected, or never happened at all.  

In any case, Merry Christmas!  

May you have enough lines in your holiday to make you stop the bustle, look around, and purposefully connect with some of your fellow sojourners down here in the waiting room of life. 

And may God, in His wisdom, continue to confound our plans and make us wait on and for each other as He sees fit!

*******

Philippians 2:3-8

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or empty pride, but in humility consider others more important than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus:

Who, existing in the form of God,

did not consider equality with God something to cling to,

but emptied Himself,

taking the form of a servant,

being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

He humbled Himself and became obedient to death—

even death on a cross.

Sanctifying the Saturday Sideshow

Saturday is cleaning day at our house.  

It has been so for a decade at least, which means that some of the residents of the Birmingham household were born into that reality and the others have had ample time to adjust to the expectation. 

This may be why I am always surprised by the looks of dismay and incredulity which greet me each week when I start passing out the necessary buckets, brooms, and bags.  

After the shocked expressions dissipate, it is as predictable as clockwork that the housecleaning which does occur will be punctuated by frequent intervals of squabbling, dawdling, procrastinating, prevaricating, disappearing, loss of hearing, and slap-dashery.  

Funny.  The work part takes my kids by surprise, but everyone seems to fall into his/her role in the chaos that follows my announcement.

Even funnier than that is the fact that this reality takes me by surprise. 

Every. Single. Week.

How else do I explain the unfounded optimism with which I meet each Saturday morning?


"We could be done by noon and go to the pumpkin patch/have a bonfire/take a bike ride/go sledding/have a picnic at the lake!" 

"If everyone works hard, I should have time to...plant my garden, catch a nap, read a book, work on one of a thousand projects."

No. 

No, Sandra.  Let's go over this again.  These people do not generally accomplish their work in a timely manner, being otherwise engaged in such things as wrestling in piles of clean clothes (folding laundry), bopping each other with pillows (changing sheets), arguing over the spray bottle (cleaning windows), chasing the dog with the broom (sweeping), and playing tug-of-war with a wet rag (mopping).


I also have several roving children whose self-appointed task it is to critique and micro-manage the rest of their siblings who, it turns out (shock!) don't seem to care for destructive criticism.

Then there are the magicians, who disappear from the work site and magically reappear in bathrooms and closets with Calvin and Hobbes books in tow.  

There are Pied Pipers leading stray members of the crew to join them outside, or in the pantry, or by the Lego bin.  

And there is the Press Corp, who scramble to be the first to report to me on the shoddy work and/or deplorable working conditions found among their fellow citizens.

I say this not to rat out my kids.  Honestly, not everyone is goofing off or checking out at the same time.  It is just that I have enough people in my house to pretty much ensure that someone, somewhere in my house is sinning or being sinned against at any given moment.  

Fifteen years into this parenting gig, I should know that to be the case, and also know that my first job is not to achieve a clean house, by hook or by crook, but to disciple the hearts under my care by modeling hard work, responding to interruptions with patience, mediating disputes with grace, bearing with the weaknesses of my young brethren, instructing wayward hearts with wisdom and covering all things with the love of Christ.

Because this endeavor involves people, it isn't going to be an exercise in efficiency, and if I expect it to be, I am likely to become an angry steamroller instead of a nurturer of hearts.

After last Saturday, two things come to mind:

1) If I come to any activity or interaction which involves other human beings with efficient job completion done to my personal specifications as the primary goal, I will likely not end up dealing with people in an entirely Christlike manner.  

Cleaning my house is a worthy goal, but should not ever be placed ahead of the needs for discipleship which arise in the process. As Colossians 3:12 says, "Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience."  

That is, toward people, not toward my agenda.

2)  We all bring certain limitations and blind spots to the table.  If we know a person any length of time, their limitations will become evident.  As Christians, we are called to deal with one another as we'd want to be dealt with.  Romans 15:1-2 reminds us, "We who are strong ought to bear with the shortcomings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.…"

How unfair it is to know that a person struggles in a certain area and then add the burden of my expectations to them!  

If I know that child "A" is consistently tempted to go AWOL during a work project and then, because I want an efficient and interruption-free work day, I leave him completely unsupervised with only a few verbal instructions for accountability, then I'd better not act surprised when I come back in two hours to find nothing has been done.

If my spouse struggles to notice that his socks have fallen off in the middle of the bathroom floor--and he has for 20 years--why in the world would I pull out my indignation every morning of my life instead of covering his oversight with the same sort of grace I would want applied to me?

If there are church members who lack tact or friends who consistently disappoint me in one area or another, why would I waste my time fretting and stewing over their deficiencies instead of focusing on the good things they bring to my life?

I'm not saying we shouldn't try to sharpen one another and "spur one another on to love and good works", but the temptation is to become so focused on how the people around you have failed to meet your expectations that you miss the small beauties of what they do well.  

Especially with my children, I am called to bring them up in nurture and admonition.  I am not to exasperate them.  

For my scatterbrained guys, that might be not barking out six commands when their heads can only hold one instruction at a time.  

For those who are tempted to shirk, it means slowing myself down enough to become consistent accountability for them.

For complainers, it means modeling gratitude.  For instigators, it means pulling them closer so that they will not be tempted beyond what they can bear.  For fault finders, it means being an example of encouragement--and being willing to stop my work long enough to help them mend relationships whenever they have fractured them.

In my Saturday cleaning, I was given a smorgasbord of struggles--a feast of human frailties, including my own--and with it, a window into grace.

Grace of the kind I am given on a daily basis by my gentle Father, who loves me with great patience, disciplines me with love, and waits for my heart to respond to His kind correction.  

 How can I offer any less to my children than He offers to His?

**************

1 Thessalonians 5:14

"And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone."

Galatians 6:1-2, 9-10

 "Brothers, if someone is caught in a trespass, you who are spiritual should restore him with a spirit of gentleness. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. Carry one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the Law of Christ...

...Let us not grow weary in well-doing, for in due time we will reap a harvest, if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to the family of faith."

When Love Leaves an Echo

I spent part of Saturday night crying bitter tears into a laundry basket.  It is not my favorite weekend activity, and (thankfully) not one I often engage in.  

It wasn't the laundry's fault.  I have nothing against dirty clothes, per se.  I wasn't in a tiff or having a pity party.  My tears were born of the pure stabbing pain of loving a person who, a) does not love you back as passionately as you love him, b) is causing you pain, and c) may not even be able to receive the love you so desperately want to share with him.  

After several years of smooth sailing with one of my kids, we've hit a rough patch--anger, acting out, self sabotage, unkind words, destructive behaviors.

I was fairly certain after all he's been through that we had not seen the last of the visible manifestations of his internal pain, but he's been "fitting in" for enough months to give me that hopeful expectation that maybe the scars were diminishing.  Maybe love had won.  Maybe truth had spoken loud enough to break through the walls of mistrust he had so carefully built around his heart.  

I had done that foolish human trick of taking "what is" and drawing a line out from right now to forever, and assuming that the person who is either making your life wonderful or miserable is going to keep on doing that forever and ever, amen.  

I have done this with all of my children (and my husband) from time to time, forgetting that they are, like me, changeable beings prone to all the variations, moods, impulses, weaknesses, and foibles of all of our species.

But even if a setback is momentary, it hurts so very much.  

What if, in the end, the ones you love don't accept what you're offering?  What if your best isn't good enough?  What if their hearts want what you don't have the power to give them?

I have not loved my children perfectly.  Far from it.  In fact, some days my parenting is perfectly...abysmal.

But other times I am laying out my whole self to the point of exhaustion.  I am reading books and blogs, watching webinars, pulling out all my tricks--old ones, new ones, some marked with warmth, some with great patience, and some with desperation, but all of them in hopes of winning the hearts of my little audience.

Some days I feel like a frenzied jester performing for a fickle court: six hours of song and dance, fire eating, and wrestling alligators, only to see my little ones shrug and throw me out of the room.  

Meh.  Boring. 

"I don't want what you're offering."

"I want my real mom."

"Why did you take me away from her?"

"She wasn't bad."

"She didn't hurt me.  She never would."

"Why did you tell the judge to take me?  I don't like this family.  I want my old room."

"Don't touch me."

"Don't talk to me."

"Leave me alone."

Statements with this emotional weight might not matter if they came from a stranger, or a casual acquaintance, but from your child...

...from one whom you have moved heaven and earth to secure?

...from one whom you have rocked and held, cleaned up after, cooked for, bathed, bandaged, taught, cheered for, cried for, cried over, cried with, read to, cuddled, lost sleep over, worried about, prayed for, and protected?

There are no words.

I go to sleep thinking about my children, and wake up thinking about them.  I love them with a fierce protectiveness that surpasses any other form of love I have ever known.  So when a sweet little face looks at my open arms, hears my words of love, experiences my devotion, and says "no thanks", it makes me wonder why I am doing this.

But even in that same instant, I know why.  

The answer lives in the nature of true love.

It is the reason that I will lay down my heart and my prayers and my life for my children until my last breath, no matter what they offer me in return.

Because that's what love does.

Not the "I love how you make me feel" love.

Or the "I love what I can get from you" love.

Or the "I love how you make me look" love.

This love is the crazy, inexplicable, unconditional, sometimes unrequited, consuming passion that endures independently of the recipients.  

They can't stop it, kill it, or shut it up, but oh!  How I want that love to go both ways!  

How desperately I want to pull my little (and big) ones to me and see the answering light in their eyes...

...and yet their periodic coolness is so much like what I offer to my own Heavenly Father.  

He gives and gives, and I say it is not enough, or it isn't what I want, or it isn't on my terms, and I answer His loving gaze with an icy stare.  

Hasn't he shown me enough how He feels toward me?  He gave me the world and everything in it, even as I shrugged and spit. 

He stepped into that world and won my freedom at the cost of His own blood. He laid it all out--every possible way of showing the extent of His love, His trustworthiness, His good intentions toward me, and His provision for my needs.  

But somehow even after He took me into His family, I still find myself looking at Him with shifty eyes and a suspicious heart. 

Just like my little guy looks at me.

"I don't want what You're offering," I say.

"I want my old plan/circumstance/habit/situation/idol back."

"Why did You take it away from me?"

"It wasn't bad."

"It wouldn't hurt me.  It never would."

"Why are You treating me this way?"

"I don't like Your rules."

"I don't like this reality.  I want my old one."

"I don't trust You."

Not until I was on the receiving end of this kind of wariness did I understand what I have been doing to God since I met Him, and from that cold 
knowledge has sprung a strange sort of gratitude.

I am grateful because the sting of this rejection both deepens my appreciation for God's patience toward me, and at the same time creates forbearance in me over the weakness, fear, and mistrust I see in my own children.  

And if I, an imperfect and often inconsistent parent, love my little ones to distraction even when they are prickly and suspicious, how much more am I loved by my Father in Heaven through all of my sulks and tantrums?

God loves me with my best interest in His mind, no matter whether I understand it, agree with it, or like it.  He loves me through my unloveliness and doubt, in spite of myself, for the purpose of guiding me out of my wretchedness and insecurity into the place of peace and safety that He has prepared for my benefit.  

Just like I am trying to do for my sweet boy.

This is the thought that eventually lifted my chin out of the pile of tear-stained laundry

I was reminded today by in a blog post by Tim Challies that "God loved us so much he spoke a language we didn’t want to hear, and we learned to receive it as the best language of all."

Hopefully.  Eventually.  I pray that will be what happens here in my home with my children.  Until then, the only responsibility I have is to love God and keep loving my little ones with the strength He provides.

That's it.  Results are not up to me.  This is hard, but true, and next time someone I love hurts me, I hope it will remind me not to do the same to the people--and the God--who loves me. 

A prayer:

“ . . . May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is” Ephesians 3:17-18



 

I Think I Smell Your Authenticity (or Maybe It's Mine)

I am currently in the midst of attempting to civilize four boys.  I start at a disadvantage, having only 18 years and a second-hand window into the strange landscape of the male psyche to work with, but I soldier on.  

They have eaten cat food, eaten bugs, eaten boogers, and eaten their scabs.  They have surreptitiously gone almost a week in the same socks and underwear.  

Even when their armpits smell like rancid chile dogs and their head is 1/3 greasy hair, 1/3 grass clippings, and 1/3 dirt, they beg with tears to be let out of a shower.  

For the first decade of their lives, words, food, and spit flew onto everything within a two foot radius of them at the dinner table.  Elbows popped out at right angles with every bite and milk was knocked over so regularly that I was tempted to pour a cup onto the table at the beginning of each meal, just to get it over with.  

The go-to explanation for almost every bone-headed decision they have made is either, "Did I do that?", "I didn't do that!", or "I didn't mean to do that!", accompanied by a shocked expression and big weepy eyes.  

That explanation has been trotted out to account for the broken window in the barn, the broken window in Papa's car, the broken window at the church gym, and (yesterday) the broken window in the garage.  

It has been used to explain sawed off trees, frogs in the glove compartment, knives in the microwave, and public belching.  

Fingers slammed in doors and stuck in keyholes, chipped teeth, black eyes, blown circuits, splintered furniture, and ripped clothing--it all comes down to this one statement of authentic incredulity.  

The problem is that the purpose of parenthood is not to excuse or enable the free expression of our children's "authentic selves".  

The purpose of parenthood is to raise up men and women who will become adept at living peacefully, politely, and lovingly as members of their families, so that they can transform into living peacefully, politely, and lovingly as members of society. 

None of us is an autonomous being, and where our "authentic" habits and impulses encroach upon others, the habits and impulses must go.  

Wait. A. Second.  What am I saying? 

Sheesh!

Who am I to ask my boys to give up their authenticity?  Sacrilege!  Authenticity is the holy grail of the modern age, and our highest calling is the free expression of our authentic selves, right?  

Oh yes, friends!  The culture has been talking and I've been listening. Authenticity is king. The 11th Commandment clearly states, "Thou shalt not ask me to change my stripes to accommodate you or anyone else.  This is 'who I am'."  

Your job is not simply to not judge me, not just to tolerate me, but rather to actively affirm and celebrate every outworking of my authentic being.

Every impulse and felt need must be validated.

Every belch and pimple, every windy effusion and ill conceived tweet, every half-baked lifestyle choice I advertise among my 1,327 Facebook friends must be stamped with a thumbs up or a smiley face.  In fact, I don't even want to know that opposing viewpoints or opinions exist. 

Give me my authenticity...and applause...and a safe space to practice my absolute Me-ishness...away from criticism of every kind...or give me death!

So where does this leave me with my boys? Hmmm...

Do I stop correcting their "misbehavior" and start applauding it so it won't be such a shock to them when they learn that all the explosive outworkings of their authentic selves during childhood were not actually immature and ill-conceived rudeness (as I had previously told them), but rather valid lifestyle choices?  

There may well be some in the culture at large saying, "Yes!  Let those boys be free!  Free to draw snot pictures on the patio doors and carve their names into the coffee table.  Free to decide their own menu/mealtime/bedtime/curriculum/gender expression.  Free to wander in and out of their parents' conversations at whim.  Free to slouch into churches, weddings, and funerals wearing their favorite old t-shirt and a pair of cowboy boots--or maybe no shoes at all, just socks!  Or maybe no socks!  Or maybe no pants!  Or maybe just their footie pajamas.  

Or a purple tutu. 

In all seriousness, when I look around the world these days, I feel like I am living in a dystopian novel.  Increasing confusion over the basic realities of life is understandable for a people who have lost their moral moorings, but it should not be bleeding into the church the way it is. 

Here is where everyone who is not a professing Christ follower can stop reading.  Not to be rude, but this does not apply to you.  

For the rest of us, I think it is time we remember that when we gave our lives to Jesus, we agreed to let Him have His way with us. We signed on because we saw where our authentic selves were leading us, and it was off a cliff.  

Jesus saves us from being slaves to our twisted authenticity by sending the Holy Spirit to lift us out of confusion and into the beauty that we were created to reflect as image-bearers of a perfect, holy, righteous God.  

Romans 6:6 says, "We know that our old man was crucified with him so that the body of sin would no longer dominate us, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin."  

Ephesians 4:22-24 states, "You were taught with reference to your former way of life to lay aside the old man who is being corrupted in accordance with deceitful desires, to be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and to put on the new man who has been created in God’s image – in righteousness and holiness that comes from truth."

Christ is the only one whose authenticity doesn't stink after three days.  It is uncorrupted.  The rest of us stopped being able to trust ourselves in the garden of Eden.  So while I may (and do) still retain authentic skills, giftings, talents, and aptitudes, there are also within me a great number of propensities that I must now hold up to the light of Scripture, and where they do not match, I must allow God to conform me to His image.

He is true north.  He is the absolute standard--the only One who actually IS love, holiness, purity, righteousness, justice, and truth.  For me, these are attributes that I choose to wear or not wear.

I am loving...when I am not choosing selfishness.

I am true...when I am not lying.

I am just...when I am not being capricious.

I am holy...when I am not wallowing in sin.

I am faithful...when I am not straying.

Our goodness is fickle and fleeting, and our hearts are always waging war against us, which is why the only authenticity a Christian ought to embrace is God's, and why I think He uses such active and specific language in describing how we are to do that.  

Romans 12:2 says, "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God."

Colossians 3:9-10 "Do not lie to one another, since you have taken off the old self with its practices, and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its creator. "

Romans 8:12-13 " Therefore, brothers, we have an obligation, but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live."

Colossians 3:5 " So put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking within you. Have nothing to do with sexual immorality, impurity, lust, and evil desires. Don't be greedy, for a greedy person is an idolater, worshiping the things of this world."


Romans 13:14 "clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh."


We like the idea of being forgiven, and receiving love, and gaining heaven, but when Jesus comes into our lives and starts moving around the mental furniture, knocking out walls, and hauling our beloved collection of velvet Elvises to the dumpster, we can get defensive.  

The danger of being steeped in a culture of affirmation is that when some deformed aspect of our authentic self rears its ugly head and meets the weight of disapproval from either a person who is being hurt by it, a person who sees us being blinded by it, or by the Holy Spirit, we can easily flee to the approving arms of our Facebook friends or into the comfortable pews of the pick-a-flavor churches that populate our country instead of earnestly and honestly searching the Scripture to help bring our hearts in line.  

I guarantee that you can find a church congregation which will actively cheer you on in any path you want to take.  It is one of the side effects of living in an affluent and apathetic culture.  

When one's faith is not a matter of life and death, but simply just another lifestyle choice, we find that the clergy and congregants alike begin to wrestle the power of definition from the hand of God and run about in a mad frenzy of approbation, and soon God's voice is drowned out in a convulsion of back-slapping.

And sin slides in to do its ugly work.

Oh, Church!  O, Christian!

Oh, Self!

I truly wish we would hear much, much less about how we should be loving and accepting and validating one another's authentic selves in the church and instead turn our desperate eyes onto the only Source of authentic love, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, justice, holiness, truth, self-control, joy, gentleness, mercy, and grace.

It occurs to me that the ONLY "like" we need be concerned with is God's.  His thumb is bigger than anyone else's, and retains the right to judge our actions.  Matthew 10:28 says, "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell."

His standard exists outside of my opinion.  His authenticity is the one that will win.  If I don't bow the knee now, I will do so eventually, and not without wreaking a good deal of havoc on scores of hapless victims of my unbridled authenticity and destroying myself in the process.  


My authentic self likes to lose her temper and is prone to using her substantial vocabulary to machine gun whoever is irritating her at the moment.  

It feels good.  It feels, oh so natural.  But PLEASE don't let me live there!  Spur me on to love and good works! (Hebrews 10:24)

Your authentic self may be gossipy, or hyper-critical, or poly-amorous, or violent, or selfish, or lustful, or lazy.  I guarantee that any one of those traits can at once feel right and be affirmed by your own heart.

 If you don't know Christ, I love you too much not to tell you that you do not have to be a slave to those passions and tendencies.  He came to bring life, and life more abundant! (John 10:10)

How He loves us!  How much He longs to bring us to the sweet freedom of sanctification and release us from our self-inflicted prisons.  How can we look at what He sacrificed for us and not be serious about living--not in our authenticity--but in His holiness?

Titus 3:3-6 says, "For we also once were foolish ourselves, disobedient, deceived, enslaved to various lusts and pleasures, spending our life in malice and envy, hateful, hating one another. But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior."

If you do know Jesus, then your job is to encourage your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ to continue to adopt the authenticity of God, and to challenge yourself to find more ways to put off anything that doesn't match His word or His ways.  

 Christian Friends, can we work on this together? 

There are aspects of every one of us that are good and worthy of being cultivated and celebrated for the benefit of those around us.  But the test must be whether an attitude or attribute falls inside or outside the boundaries prescribed for us in Scripture.   

Not Scripture in a vacuum, or contorted into a fun-house parody of itself, or as an addendum to what you were going to do anyway, or as a pick-a-passage validation tool.
 
We cannot keep studying the cultural fads with an eye to how close we can get to the fire without being burned.  

May we instead turn our eyes upon Jesus and read His word plainly, in context, by genre, with an earnest heart for truth and a commitment to bow before it--and watch as the Holy Spirit does its beautiful refining work in us.


The Bible is a road map, and God is a gentle Teacher, but we need to stop trying to arm-wrestle Him into agreeing with us and instead align our hearts with His.  

And so I will continue to preach to myself in the mirror every morning, and then go downstairs and preach the same message to the squirrels God has given me to raise:  "Rejoice! Jesus loves you just as you are!" 

And right after that: "Rein it in, Cowboy!  He also loves you too much to let you stay there." 

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Philippians 1:6  "For I am confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus."

 

Letters to a Graduate

Christina Jean Birmingham--Class of 2016

 

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 Christina,

From the very beginning, you have been a source of energy and happiness in our home.  Your vibrant spirit and love for life has been a wonderful complement to a family filled with often super-serious task-oriented people.  Although the busyness of life and the constant chaos of a large family can test the limits of anyone's expressions of joy, I appreciate the way that you are able to routinely cut through all of that and bring levity to our home.  Your passion for people and commitment to your family has been vital to our home and I know will continue to be.

It is my prayer that no matter what hardships, difficulties, or trials this world brings your way that you will continue to express your vibrant and loving personality in ever-increasing conformity with the character of God.  Just as the Lord has given himself for us, we are called to give of ourselves for others.  As we are all called to do as image bearers of Christ, I charge you to "in humility, count others more significant than yourself."  Philippians 2:3

 

Though there is always uncertainty in the future as well as regrets from the past, one thing that can be known with absolute confidence is the certainty of God's unending love for you and His perfect plan for your life.  I have been elated to see your passion for the Lord and his Word increase.  Our discussions on living as a Christian in a world that is aligned against a biblical worldview have been some of my happiest moments.

Paul expresses this mindset beautifully in Romans 12:2

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing, and perfect will."

No matter what path the Lord takes you on in the days ahead, always foster a discipline of thinking according to the revealed truth found in the word of God and expressed in the person of Jesus Christ.  Let his truth infuse every single aspect of your life, and you will never be able to be shaken, no matter how crazy the storms of life may be, whether coming from within or from the world around you.

You are entering a culture that systemically gives no consideration or glory to the God who is Lord over all.  It will not be easy to stand in the midst of such opposition.  But the God who loves you more than anyone will be your ever-present help.  The writer of Hebrews addresses this best, and I will paraphrase for you:  "Run with perseverance the race marked out for you, fixing your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith.  Because of the joy set before him he endured the cross (death and persecution).  So consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

We love you,  

Dad

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 Dear Christina,

          As I contemplate the occasion of your high school graduation, I am amazed again by the fingerprints of God in your life.  I am grateful to your birth mom for choosing to give you life.  I am grateful for the neighbor who happened to hear you when you needed help.  I am grateful for the paramedics, policemen, and E.R. physicians who cuddled you up before my arms could, who cared for your wounds, and brought you to a safe place to recover.  I am grateful that the resident doctor who “happened” to be on call on your hospital floor that day in 2001, “happened” to be your future Daddy, so that his hands, which would be so instrumental in caring for your later needs, could also have a part in the healing of your tiny frame.  I love that you arrived on Mother’s Day.  I love how you and Rebekah captured my heart from the moment I saw you, and how you have it still.  

    

         If ever you doubt how precious you are to God, consider what had to happen to bring you all the way across the country and into our arms.  God had to blow up my plans for how and when I would have children.  He closed my womb.  That is all there is to it.  The doctors said, “There is no reason you cannot have children.”  But there was a reason!  My heart had to be opened to the possibility of YOU!  He brought the right people to speak gentle truths to us about how God might be building our family.  He softened our hearts and moved our feet into foster parent training. Then He allowed me to miss multiple placement phone calls—infants, tiny siblings—always placed  in other homes by the time I could call back.  He moved me to begin feathering my nest—for girls!  He knew!  And then He took the tragic circumstances of your early life and redeemed them, placing you where you would learn of Him, of His love for you, of the gifts He has given you, and of His plans for you.

 

         

 And what wonderful gifts you possess!  My earliest memory of you is of walking into the facility where you were brought after your release from the hospital.  There was a sweet, smiling redhead leaning against a table—and, streaking across the room, a tiny, curly-headed toddler with chubby cheeks and a great big grin. It is a perfect picture of you, as you have continued to approach life with that same spunky attitude and enthusiasm.  For better or worse, you are fearless and adventuresome.  You are brave and curious and full of wonder.  This has led you to the edge of a precipice a time or two, but God, in His providence has always provided a pair of strong hands—sometimes His, sometimes ours, sometimes others’—to pull you back.  Take this not as a desire to curb your freedom, but rather as a sign of His great love and protection!

 

  What I love about you:   Your wonderful sense of humor.  Your tenderness toward the weak, hurting, and disabled.  Your intuition and your observations about life and people.  Your industrious spirit.  Your love of music.  Your willingness to help with absolutely anything that needs doing.  Your instinctive and instructive way with children.  Your protectiveness toward your family (no beady-eyed vultures be gettin’ those boys!)  Your increasing love for and submission to the Lord.

 

          My charge to you:  In ALL your ways submit to God and He will direct your paths.  Embrace adventure, live fully, say yes to opportunity, but do it under the protective and loving gaze of your Heavenly Father.  There is freedom in His statutes and they will enable you to get the most possible joy out of life.  Make your closest friends people who love God as much as or more than you do, but never forget there is a world full of hurting people who need the love and truth that you have.  Always try to serve them and see them as God does.  Bad things will happen, but remember, God is the redeemer.  You have seen Him redeem the past and you can trust Him for the future.  He is faithful.

       And finally, I want you to know how very much we love you, how proud we are of you, and how glad we are that God has allowed us to be your parents.  You are a treasure and a gift, and I can’t wait to see what God has planned for your life! 

All my love, Mom