It is heartrendingly sad that we Christians often fail to see “the whole picture.” The way of the modern church is to pick apart the Bible, a verse here, a verse there. Rarely do the Christians of today see the Bible as an actual redemptive history of God’s work. Choosing to not realize that misses the whole picture of God’s grace.
In our culture of “facts,” we miss the blessings and gifts right in front of us. As a parent I see this in my own calling. If my children are still sinning often in the areas that I work so hard to train them in I take it very hard. I take this motherhood-business very seriously and I’d love for my children to show me the fruit of my labor.
The other day, I was in deep discouragement. My children could feel my down-cast spirit. They also overheard me sharing this trial with my husband over the phone. Later that afternoon, my eldest, who is eight-years-old, came to me, Bible in hand. She gave it to me and asked me to read a certain passage in Psalms. I read it to her and she encouraged me to find comfort in its words. She pointed to some of the words of that chapter and reminded me of God’s promises.
Now if that is not a beautiful display of the fruit of my labors, I could never know what was. The problem is, I did not see that at the time. I thought “How nice that my daughter knows her Bible” and left it at that.
Yes, I felt uplifted from the life-giving, attitude-wrangling words from my Father. But I did not see the gift.
It was not until that evening when I related to my husband the details of my day that my overlooking became apparent sin. I included that snippet of our daughter and then proceeded to talk about the housework that was overwhelming me. In typical fashion, my husband stopped me to challenge my heart:
Don’t you see, Kelly? What a gift! Our hard work has paid off. Look at God’s grace in rewarding us!
And it was true. The realization that our eight-year-old was looking to God’s word to bring comfort to her mother is frankly overwhelming. God used our obedience to Him and we are in turn blessed by it. So why was I so quick to not see this?
I am the type of person who has succumbed to our world of “black and white,” facts, and suppression of emotion. I do not delight in God’s law as I should, neither do I see that His gifts and blessings come in other ways than food on our table and clothing to wear. I “see” the busywork and miss the blessings.
This is not good and it should not be so.
My challenge to my siblings in Christ is this: notice everything in your day. Recognize God’s grace and mercy in all things. Do not overlook the seemingly minute gifts He has given you.
And thank Him continually.
“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:16 – 18
My life is a smorgasbord of sin, hope, redemption, learning, and grasping. The timeline about me would appear cluttered, erratic even. I move in spurts and ebbs and flows. My husband often tells me that I move too fast. I am not scatterbrained but an organized conglomeration of to-do lists, needs, dreams and failure.
I like “clear pictures.” I am a woman of lists. We travel, I make lists. We move, I make lists. We make the decision to go out to dinner and yes, I make a list of everything that needs to be done to get us out the door. I see concretely and I base the way I do things on lists, goal-making, and pages upon pages of planning.
Truthfully, I wrestle with the way I am because this kind of living is overburdening. It overwhelms and chokes until I sometimes fall on the floor weeping. An embrace from my mate, a touch from my child, a tender hand giving me a tissue, and I can rise again and continue on.
But the bare fact is, my life is God’s. Jesus has touched my life, has invaded it. The me He made me to be is there, but the life is no longer mine. He called me to Himself. He gave up His own life for me. And so, yes, I can make plans and follow my organized thoughts, but He now owns my life. Unchecked lists, forgotten plans, and a day that moves away from a written schedule are under His control.
Daily I must remind myself that He who made my personality will also strengthen me to be in control of my personality.
My life has been owned. By my Savior, He Who died.
Love is a wonderful word that holds so much value but has been so mis-used by our society. In our world, love is sex, feelings, and so many other fleshly ideas. The beautiful truth is that love is action. We are not limited to how we may or may not feel. Is it not amazing that we can show love without feeling it?
Humans experience a heavy myriad of emotion. It seems that we sway from one feeling to the next in very little time. The constancy of love cannot be felt. It can only be shown.
When my husband has irked me or my children have displayed yet another grand manner of sin, I can love. I do not have to wait until I feel it nor do I have to wait until my attitude has adjusted to a happier feeling. No matter the day, the time, the situation: I can love.
This beautiful, amazing, out-of-this-world truth extends beyond me. In fact, it never started with me. It came from before time, before a single drop of water existed. He loved before we knew what love is. The very creation in which we find ourselves, our very existence, is evidence of the most wonderful love. The act of dying for creatures so lost and dependent, is that not the ultimate love? We cannot even begin to show the love that God is.
And so my days of not feeling loved, or walking through periods of discouragement? They are not contingent on me. That love is still there.
He loves me.
“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
The calendar on our wall has announced that it has changed. The dry, sad, oppressive summer is gone and Fall has come. Fall, too, will march on and become something different. It is a continuous and dependable process that we can count. . . because of the grace of God.
I take a lot of time now to tell myself “It is only a season” or “They always tell me to enjoy this season because it doesn’t last.” The truth is, even though I am marching slowly but surely, stumbling so many times my soul’s knees are raw and bruised, I can never see the finish line that declares to me: The Next Season.
I spend so much time gazing at the horizon, my hair flapping in the breeze of life behind me. Waiting. Waiting for a season that is yet to come.
The problem with all that horizon-gazing is that it makes me miss the slow and beautiful changes that happen as this time, this season I am in. My eyes focus on what is to come and yet I forget that that desired future will not happen without the sweat and tears of now. I sinfully want the delicious fruit without the necessary work.
And so I grasp my will to wait under the Father’s hands, to mold my desires into hopes and dreams. I put them in a box and wrap it carefully with twine and write on the top: For Later.
Have you ever read a book that touched your soul? That made you rethink how you are living and convicted you down to your toes? Adopted For Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families & Churches is one of those books.
Because my family is on our own harrowing journey of adding to our brood through adoption, I have been looking for Christian alternatives to a lot of the literature that is out there for this subject. Pop psychology and humanist thinking are the driving force in the most popular books, websites, and training on adoption. Our desire in adoption is to not only add to our quiver but to also mirror God’s faithful provision in adopting us into HIS family. But, the church? It is strangely silent on something that truly affects me and every single one of my Christian brothers and sisters.
When I received this copy of Mr. Moore’s book from Crossway I peeked at the contents. Subjects listed there were mostly what I would expect on a book about adoption: “. . .Rude Questions about Adoption. . .,” “Paperwork, Finances. . .,” “. . .Racial Identity. . .” Others were unexpected: “Adoption, Jesus, and You,” “How Churches Can Encourage Adoption.” Cut and paste dilemmas are the usual talk amongst adoptive parents, or PAPs (Prospective Adoptive Parents for those who are not used to adoption lingo). Broadening the deeper mirroring of Christ’s calling us siblings? Not common talk on any adoption message board or even from the pulpit for that matter.
Adopted For Life goes beyond the outward desires and realities of adopting and brings to light the necessity of looking at adoption through the eyes of Christ. The driving purpose of this book is to cause believers to recognize that in reality, we all have the same needs as those of the orphans found throughout the world. We all need a Father, someone to care for us, provide for us, and love us. And while our Father heaps grace upon grace in calling us His own, we are so lax in modeling the same in our day-to-day lives.
Beyond the call to remind us how we are called to view children and families, Mr. Moore also discusses infertility and the temptation to resort to anything to have biological children. This chapter is a must-read for those who are not aware of the ramifications of medical intervention. “Infertility isn’t hopeless, but it is dangerous. If you’re grappling with a so-far unanswered plea for children, let me stop and warn you about something. Remember that your life is being lived out in a world that’s more than what you can see. You bear the image of God, you resemble, Jesus, and so you are a target for demonic principalities and powers who seek to turn your affections away from your Lord. Every one of us has weak points sized up by these rebel forces, and your struggle with infertility is not exception.”
Mr. Moore also touches on the financial aspect of adoption. This part of adoption is huge and is what keeps many families, I believe, from adopting. He puts it in perspective in a very real way and though I do not agree with his statement that taking out a loan for adoption is okay, I love this “. . .it’s important to know that you don’t always have to know how God will equip you to adopt before you begin praying and planning toward adoption.”
This book is written in a very compelling and well-thought out manner. I appreciated Mr. Moore’s sense of humor. I never found myself wondering “What in the world is that man talking about?” He crafts his writing in such a way that it reaches all manner of people. And what truly makes this book stand out from other books on adoption is the fact that he reaches back to the most truly awesome adoptions of adoptions (that of the Christian’s into God’s family).
Listen, friends. If you are in the adoption process: read this book. If you are thinking about adoption: read this book. If you are a pastor: read this book. If you are a Christian: read this book. Adoption affects us all, whether we are personally adopting or not. And, honestly? This is the number one book I would recommend to anyone who is thinking of adoption.
“Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation.” – Psalm 68:5, ESV
Now, because I truly believe this book is so important that it should be in the hands of all Christians, I am offering one copy to give away. Yes! I am! I will personally ship one copy to the winner straight from Crossway Books. Or, if you so prefer, I will purchase for you the eBook version (available in ePub, mobi). All you have to do is comment before October 8, 11:59 PM. I will choose one winner sometime on the 10th.
Be sure to leave a comment to enter, with your email address included.
For one extra entry, tweet the following “@WisdomBegun is giving away Adopted For Life http://wisdombegun.com/?p=1668 #adoption” (without the quotation marks). Be sure to come back after doing so and leave a separate comment with the link to your tweet.
Please note that this giveaway is limited to those in the contiguous US.
Last but not least, I want to thank Crossway Books for so generously allowing me to review Adopted For Life.
Once upon a time, there was a group of people called The Ocean Dwellers. You would not find these people on a warm, tropical island, or near the sunny beaches of a peninsula. These people were not natives of a warm climate nor were they residents of The Land Where the Sun Always Shines.
No, these people lived their very lives on the ocean. Not on house boats or expansive yachts or even clinging to a hodge-podge of floating driftwood. When storms came, they were tossed and thrown about. When the sun beat relentlessly on their aching shoulders, they had no shelter. And when they grew tired, they could not sleep because there was no place to rest their weary heads. They could not even depend on one another, because every single member of The Ocean Dwellers was as tired and exhausted as the next.
As generations of The Ocean Dwellers came and went, bits and pieces of letters would pass on the surface of the ocean. These letters contained conversations between people who were discussing The Light. The Light was One who could save any and all of His chosen people. The people talking about The Light would always refer to encouragement they had received from reading The Book that The Light had written.
Over the years, The Ocean Dwellers would speak amongst each other. “We want to know The Light. How can we get The Book so that we can know more about The Light? He will save us from our tired life of being tossed and turned about on this water.”
One day, a boat came! This boat drew close to The Ocean Dwellers. The crew aboard called out to the wet and weary people. “Hello! We see you in your distress! We want you to know that there is One who can save you!” “Yes! We know,” replied The Ocean Dwellers in one long shout. “The Light! He can save us and give us a stable and strong place to cling. How can we know more about Him?”
The boat crew began shouting down to The Ocean Dwellers all the beautiful, wonderful truths of The Light. They explained that The Light was not just a story, but an amazing, loving Father of people of all colors and languages. By and by, the boat crew invited the people to come aboard and become Dwellers of Solid Land. The boat crew would share with them more about The Light and set them down on a land of their own. Best of all, the boat crew had many different copies of The Book that The Ocean Dwellers could read when they came aboard.
Elation could not describe the overwhelming feeling The Ocean Dwellers had when they heard those words. They wanted to know more about The Light and they wanted to read The Book that He had written. They wanted to find rest for their weary souls and experience the shelter that could not be found on the choppy waters of the ocean.
Eagerly, they discussed together. Not everyone wanted to go. Change, it seems, was too scary for them. Others preferred to be their own masters. They did not want to give their lives over to The Light. But for the small number who did want to serve The Light, they nervously climbed up onto the ladder offered them and stepped excitedly onto the boat of the deck. The boat crew hugged and kissed The Ocean Dwellers who were brave enough to start this journey and welcomed them into their arms.
The Ocean Dwellers were bursting to touch and read The Book for their very own. They wanted to see the words The Light had given them. They wanted to see what He had done and what He promised to continue to do. And so they trembled as the boat’s captain handed to the eldest Ocean Dweller his most favorite copy of The Book. He took the book into his hands and opened it. The rest of The Ocean Dwellers waited with trembling. As they looked expectantly, he squinted down at the words and then stopped.
“I cannot read this. What are all these squiggles and shapes?”
One member of the boat crew came up behind the old man and jutted his finger at the words. “You must be very tired from floating around on the ocean for so long. Look here a minute and then the words will come together and you will be able to read them.”
The old man closed his eyes, opened them, closed them again, rubbed them and then stared down hard at The Book. He looked to where the boat crew member still rested his finger. He started trembling when he realized that the words of The Book looked nothing like the words of any of the books he had read.
“I cannot read this. This is not in my tongue.”
The faces of The Ocean Dwellers fell. What were they to do? If they could not read The Book then how could they find the rest that came from The Light? How could they see in which way they were to live? How could they know The Light? Excitedly, the boat crew searched all over the boat and came up with dozens of copies of The Book in many languages. The elder would begin to read each one but grew more and more discouraged with each realization that yet again, this language was not his people’s.
“Are these all the languages that are available for The Book?” he asked. And the sad fact of the matter was, that yes, these were all.
As the boat drew close to the new land upon which The Ocean Dwellers would soon live, all aboard were very somber. The Ocean Dwellers stepped upon dry land for the first time but still felt the bitter disappointment of not being able to read The Book for their very own.
“Here, now,” said the old man to the boat crew, “why don’t you come live with us here on our new land. Since we cannot read The Book you can read it to us!”
“Oh, no! We cannot, “replied one of the boat crew, “for our job from The Light is to search for other Ocean Dwellers such as yourself to bring the message of The Book. We must leave you. But we will be back.”
As the boat crew sailed off, The Ocean Dwellers began to make home the land which was now theirs. They were no longer Ocean Dwellers but now Dwellers of Solid Land. They repeated to one another the stories and truths they had learned of The Light. But their hunger was strong and overpowering. They wanted to know more about The Light that they now served.
Months and months went by. One day, they noticed in the distance a boat. They had not seen a boat since that day when they had been brought to Solid Land. The watched as the boat grew larger and larger. It finally docked. The eldest Dweller of Solid Land extended his hand towards the person descending the ladder. It was the captain from the boat who had delivered them to their new home.
“I have come with a gift for you. You see, as we sailed away from you after we had deposited you on your new land, our hearts were so heavy. We could not eat nor sleep. Fresh water tasted disgusting to us. We knew that we left with you with no way to learn more of The Light and we had no knowledge of how to help you.
“But that is no longer the case. We have brought you this gift.”
And down from the ladder descended a group of about a dozen people. They came up to the elder Dweller of Solid Land. “We were Ocean Dwellers once, too, such as you were. We speak your language. We will help you translate The Book into your language. You will be able to hold The Book in your own hands and read it in your own language. You can read it when you get up, or in the middle of the day, or before you go to bed. You will be able to continuously learn and grow in your knowledge of The Light.”
The Dwellers of Solid Land wept as they realized the enormousness of the words. This gift was so precious. They would be able to read The Book in their language and take it into their own hands.
The elder spoke: “Friends, this day is one of celebration. The Light will become even more dear to us as we read of His love and goodness. But I have a confession to make. The happy, hopeful attitude I have had since inhabiting this new land was all a facade. You see, as soon as I realized that I could not read any of the copies of The Book on the boat that day, I started believing the lie that The Light does not care about me. If He did, I would be able to read His words. How could The Light love me, love our people, really and truly, if His words were unreadable. But He does, friends, He does. What a gift!”
*************************************************
Did you know that “nearly one-third of the world’s language groups representing 340 million people are still waiting for God’s Word in a language that they can understand clearly”?
Does this not blow away your mind?
Do you realize, friends, the significance of this?
We go about our daily duties at home and in our paths go across bibles in all different places. On book shelves, besides beds, on top of tables, beside our favorite, most comfy chairs. They are everywhere. Beyond that, we can go into any christian book store and begin to read a Bible straight from the shelves.
We can read God’s word in our own language.
But millions of people cannot. It isn’t that they cannot afford a Bible or because they would be persecuted if they owned one (though many people do face this). It isn’t because they do not realize how important the Bible is to a Christian.
It’s because their does not exist one in a language they can read.
I want you to watch the below video. Pay attention to what these people are saying. Notice what the man says beginning at 0:52 through 1:00. (If you cannot see the video, you may need to refresh your page)
Friends, this is not the time to sit around saying “Oh, how I wish I could DO something” and then walk away to go make dinner.
These people, these fellow believers with no Bible in their own language, are YOUR brothers and sisters. They are not nameless, faceless nobodies because to the One who is Father to you both they ARE people with names and faces. These people are YOUR family, made in God’s image just as you are.
OneVerse vision is to make a way for those of us who do not know how to tangibly help to help. For $26 monthly, you can sponsor the translation of one verse into the language of someone who does not have a Bible in their own tongue. Folks, this is attainable. Have a garage sale, sell some books, write an eBook, give up coffee at Starbucks, whatever.
This story I made for my children to illustrate the fact that there are many people today who do not have “The Book.” I crafted it when I learned of OneVerse and their mission to bring the Scriptures to people all around the world. I hope it impresses upon the hearts of those who read it how serious it is that we have many brothers and sisters who cannot just pick up a Bible. I am also entering it as my “creative blog post” to win a ticket to Relevant ’11.
Conversations are powerful. Words, gestures, and facial movements help to convey what is truly going on in a person’s heart as they speak. Rarely does a conversation leave those involved unchanged.
I often find that conversations bring about a period of soul-searching within myself. The words I spoke go through scrutiny as I mentally relive them. How could I have expressed myself better? How could I have listened better? Does what I presented to that person truly reflect my standing as a child in the ultimate family of families?
I recently had one of these conversations with a stranger in a public place. The whole of it transpired in but a few minutes, yet God never allows a single moment to pass where learning cannot take place. I’m given the beautiful opportunity to push out of my limited way of thinking towards His truth.
This particular evening, I was roaming the nearby Barnes and Noble store. An employee asked if I needed any help and I gave my usual answer: No. As he walked away, I changed my mind because, yes, I actually did need help.
“Where are the books on. . . writing?”
Turns out, that employee worked in the exact section of the store I needed to look. As we rode the escalator to the second floor, he asked me if I had written a book before or if this was my first one.
“This will be my first one.”
We arrived in the reference section and then he asked me what type of book I would be writing.
“Nonfiction.”
In order to help me further, he asked what specific nonfiction I would be writing.
Ah.
That is where I could hear my mind start working it’s typical response to questions I am ill-prepared for.
“Uh, I am going to be, um, writing, um, about. . .”
It seemed like I was on a stage and everyone was staring and wondering what my answer would be. I wanted to sound confident and happy that I was writing about my particular subject.
Instead I fell flat. My words came out in a whisper.
“Me,” I said softly and I started fumbling over my words as I do when nervousness sets in. “I am writing kind of about me and something about my being a homemaker and something like that.”
The words coming out of my mouth were ridiculous. Here I was trying to answer a simple question about the what of my book and I melted into a stuttering woman who had no straight answer.
It was painful to me and the helpful man in front of me had to put my halting answers together and come up with some kind of helpful book for a writer who was writing nonfiction about: a homemaker memoir or “something like that?”
And in my being of being I know exactly what I am going to write though it honestly has nothing to do with being a homemaker. Yet for the first time I had acknowledged in public that I was a writer and instead of owning that fact and thanking God for His gift of my love for words, doubt and fear presented.
There are many words to describe me and one of them is an awful word. Perfectionist. When there seems to be no way that I can accomplish my project so that nothing will be wrong with it, I tuck it under some papers and unfinished dreams and say “later.”
Only “later” never comes. It comes and goes and I feel a bit of relief that I never did try what I had wanted to do because that inevitably would have led to failure. And one thing that knocks me down and out is failure.
Failure will happen but fear should not. My God has commanded me to fear not.
If I had gone into that bookstore now, after much time has been spent on how I should have answered helpful-bookseller-man, I would had said this:
“I am writing a book. It is nonfiction. My book will be accomplished after much prayer and continual stops to remind myself that God is in control of my words. Not I.
This book will be about one of my most intense passions. It will contain my heart and will challenge me as I write it. My genuine hope and desire is to encourage women who are walking the walk I am putting my feet to. I want to meet these women where they are at because I am there, too.”
Maybe the kind of book I am writing is not going to end up on a best seller list. And if I were to answer the name of it to the average person they would respond with apologetic acknowledgement of never having heard it. But if my heart speaks to one, one person, one woman who can feel that someone is finally understanding her circumstances, then God has used me.
And so my confidence comes not from words but from my Father who loved me enough to use me for His better purposes. The fear and doubt and perfectionism and people pleasing will slide into the place where they belong right in the cabinet entitled “finally overcoming.”
Perhaps one day you may “see [my] name on these shelves” as the helpful man cheerily encouraged me as he left to help others. Perhaps not. My chief end is to glorify my God.
I had to say it and it had to come out. “I’m done.” There I was, surrounded by noise and chaos and clutter. This wasn’t the life I had wanted. This was not what I thought it would be like. My dreams as a new bride, my visions of perfection, were gone and instead I was right in the middle of child people who always took but rarely gave back. I was their mother and this was my home but it was too much. Who could I hand in my resignation to?
“I’m done.” This time I knew that something would have to change or this life, this journey I was on, would be nothing more than a mess.
I stepped into the laundry room and shut the door. “I’M DONE!” I did not elevate my voice to a yell but I wanted to. I wanted to scream, yell, stomp my feet.
I sat down next to the piles of dirty towels. What else could I say? What could be done that would help?
I could not give an answer.
“God. Father. LORD!” I whispered in the dark. “Where are YOU?”
“Have you left?”
Waiting on the floor, I sat. I sat. And sat.
Where was He? Maybe He had abandoned me as it seemed everyone else had. But no. That couldn’t be possible. I had just read it in His Word today. Where was it?
I walked over to the maroon Bible and thumbed through it. There.
“Those who know your name trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.” -Psalm 9:10
Trust. A hard term for someone who wants to steer her life into that earlier vision of perfection. Reality had set in and I had lost my vision and my grip on what was true. Trusting Him implies the total and perhaps painful sacrifice of my way and recognizing God is and always has been the holder of my life.
It is not a one-time giving over of control. No. This trust requires daily and conscious squelching of our internal power struggle. Yet it has to be done. After all, why would He forsake one who implicitly trusts Him with her very life and work and desires and tears.
He does not. He will not.
Laundry will overflow. Children will fight and lie and do all of the things we sinners seem to do best. Dinner will be late. You will have arguments with your spouse. You will get sick. People will hurt you.
This will all happen. But He will not forsake you.
I have seen over the years many posts and articles written to the mothers of young children on “how to accomplish quiet time.” Lists are made that encourage mothers to make sure they get some daily time in the Word. These tips typically involve spreading Bibles all over the house and reading here and there, taking the time to read during nursing sessions, and the like.
While I appreciate the thought put into these hints, I want to put out there that I think these lists are less than helpful and are actually detrimental to a woman’s spiritual health.
Look, I am the mother of five children who are aged eight and under. I understand that it is hard to do anything at this phase of life. The constant needs of young children make it virtually impossible to accomplish much outside of the necessaries. And that is okay. I personally would not have my life any other way.
Yet. Yet. Before you are a mother, and yes, before you are a wife, you are a child of the heavenly Father. This relationship with Him is ultimately your greatest responsibility. You are in no less need of being spiritually fed than your husband, your pastor, or your single female friends. The need to be nourished in your soul is still there. It does not diminish when that first child is placed in your arms. It does not automatically go away when subsequent children are added to your home.
Think of it in this way: in our society, people generally eat three meals a day with snacks in between. This is because our bodies require nourishing meals in sufficient amounts. Grabbing a handful of food here and there may work for some, but for the average person it will not fulfill the needs of our bodies.
Even more so, our spiritual nourishment requires more than “snacking.” Grabbing the Word of God here and there is not enough. There is not time for digestion, no time for proper chewing of what God is feeding to us.
“Well, sure,” you may say, “this is all true. But what about the practicality of all of this.”
This is my list on how to practically apply this to our lives. Some of these will work for you, others may not.
Just do it. This is the one that some may wish to throw me under the bus for. That is okay. I am here for encouraging but at the same time, I may say some things you do not want to hear. But before you leave me because of this first tip alone, let me just say: you will get accomplished what truly matters to you. If blogging matters to you, you will somehow make time for it. If reading matters to you, you will find a way to prop open that book. If quilting, scrap booking, gabbing with friends matters to you, you will find a way to do it. Our time with God should be no less important.
Get up early. Ah. So here I go again hitting on another sore spot. The whole “getting up early” thing. Friends, let me tell you, I have been where you are. You have a newborn, four other young ones, and all you want is s-l-e-e-p. Nothing else seems to matter and you will do almost anything to get two hours put together. I understand this. But disciplining myself to get up has been one of the most beneficial traits I have had to learn. This quiet, peaceful time is treasure.
Throw out the devotionals. I’m going to say this once and then get a shield ready for all of the tomatoes thrown at me. Those devotionals that look so neat and nifty and purty in the Christian book store? They should not replace the reading of God’s own Word. If all you are doing is reading these devotionals and calling that your “quiet time,” then you are eating candy and not even bothering to down the good stuff. Put down that easy-peasy one-page-a-day devotional and dig into the word of God.
Pray. Really, this one should have been first. If you cannot seem to find the time or support or energy to spend with God, then ask Him to provide it for you. Believe me, He will and when He gives you that time, you need to make sure that you use that time exactly for what He has given it for. No “oh, wow, I’ve got unexpected time to read the Bible. First, let me read my emails and then. . . .” No. No. No. Read your Bible with the time you have been given.
These are four ways that have worked for me. Share with me your thoughts and feelings on the importance of making the time to have a true quiet time with your Father.
This Sunday is one of the most special times of the year: a time set aside to honor our mothers. As a mother myself, I tend to also use this day to re-examine my priorities and look at the areas that I am weak in as well as those that I have made better and excel in.
This time I am going to proclaim one of my weaknesses that probably most people would not say is a weakness. This is a trait that women are usually inherently born with and something men just do not get. Multi-tasking.
This God-given ability allows us to keep our little worlds moving along. The ability to multi-task gives us the means to change a dirty diaper while reviewing phonograms with the five-year-old while telling the oldest child to start the dishes while instructing the two-year-old that drawing on the wall is not appropriate. We can make dinner and pause to go pick up the stray socks from the living room and then put them into the laundry room where we go ahead and start another load. We can kiss boo-boos and give hugs while nursing a baby and reading aloud.
Of course, while we should be thankful that God made us this way, we can also let it become our idol. An idol? you say? Yes. An idol.
One thing I think most mothers struggle with is trying to do it all. The simple fact of the matter is that doing what needs to be done is hard work. Add on to that the common ambition we have to have neat, clean homes and it can drive us absolutely to depression. Then we can’t just stop at wanting the most organized, cleanest, most efficiently run house ever. No. We add on top of that outside activities, hobbies, commitments, and businesses.
We are essentially saying “I can do it all and I can do it well and I can do it all on my own“ when God says no you can’t because you are only a created being and I made you and only I can do it all.
These things, this stuff that fills our life, these items and activities that cause us to be spinning so many plates in the air that they have no where to go but down? They can be idols. They stress us out and make us tired and cause chaos and all we do is think think think about them. Our relationships go to the side because we absolute must get this next thing done. We are so driven by getting it all done that eventually nothing gets done.
I speak from experience. I am a wife to a husband that, yes, does need my help. I am the mother of five. We are in the process of adopting a child from a far-off place. I homeschool my children. I cook and clean and organize and plan. Those are essentials and they are myjob and no one else’s.
Add to these necessaries running a business and getting back into exercise and learning graphic design and so on and so on and there are days when all I can do is cry to my husband that “I just can’t DO IT!”
So this Mother’s Day? This Mother’s Day I encourage you moms to stop trying to do it all. Give something up that is non-essential. Focus on your three priorities: God, husband, then children. After that, examine everything else that you do and cut out things. Take a day to just do those things that have to be done and let the rest fall. Remember that if multi-tasking gets in the way of your priorities and the relationships it is your job to build, then you could possibly be idolizing it.
Thank God for the trait of multi-tasking so that you can better serve Him. At the same time, ask Him to show you areas where you need to do less multi-tasking and more just being there for those He has put you together with. The God who has made you does not expect you to do it all because He knows you cannot. So rest in that and take comfort in it.
How has multi-tasking made your life harder? Have you ever felt overwhelmed because of the drive to “do it all and get it all done?”
