The Rocks Won't Cry Out On My Behalf

My seven-year-old has been singing "If I had no voice, If I had no tongue, I would dance for You like the rising sun" for days now. I thought maybe it was due to the upcoming eclipse, but the eclipse passed and she's still singing it. She even drew a picture of someone dancing with no tongue (yeah, I don't know...her six-year-old brother thought it was hilarious).

The song is catchy and I've found myself singing it at random times this week as well. With more frequency now that "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is not as fun to sing. Something about the words have made me feel like a bit of a hypocrite, though. Do I praise Him enough? Praise and Worship music is a big thing in this family. We have nightly jam sessions/dance parties. We play it at home. It's always on in the car. My two sons scream passionately sing songs with words like "I've seen You move, You move the mountains and I believe I'll see you do it again," "We will not be moved when the earth gives way, for the Risen One has overcome" and "He'll see me through like before, He is Lord, He is Lord." (Yes, they have a slight Elevation Worship obsession right now which is much more tolerable than their "Maui, It's time to kick your hiney" obsession...Thank you, Moana). My two-year-old doesn't even comprehend what he is truly singing, but you better believe he can lift his hands in praise with the best of them. Yes, from the outside looking in, my husband and I have done a decent job infiltrating our lives with praises to our King.

So why have the words my sweet girl has been singing made me feel guilty? Why does a twinge of shame well up every time I catch myself humming along? Why does the verse about rocks crying out to Him if we withhold praise make me wonder when the rocks that sit in a decorative container on our kitchen table will start singing?

Like much that I don't want to deal with because I already know the answers, I've dismissed my questions to process at a more convenient time. You know, when all three kids are sleeping at the same time and I'm still alert enough to think, the laundry is caught up and the house is spic and span...so pretty much, never. But as those lyrics have remained in our house, the questions have also remained.

So because I often choose to be gut-wrenchingly honest on a blog that the world can read, here's the truth. I am REALLY good at voicing praises to God and can do so with repetition without even thinking about it (much like everyone can who was raised on '90s praise and worship church songs). I can quote Bible verses about His praise being continually on my mouth and giving thanks to Him for His love endures forever. When my children argue, I often make them apologize, say something nice to each other and then thank Jesus for their sibling. All that's good, but do I REALLY praise God? Do my actions thank Him when I'm upset and sulking because something in my life isn't going my way? Am I worshiping Him when I decide to reach over my Bible for the second, third, fourth day in a row and grab the remote because I just don't "feel" like reading His promises? Am I applauding Him when I look to man for comfort instead of running first to Him?

It is so easy to get into a routine of doing something but not really putting forth the effort to do it well. I have certain workout routines that I know will allow me to check off the box without using too much energy. If I don't really want to deal with sticking to my new and still evolving daily laundry routine, I wash and dry a load of the biggest items I can find because it's less to fold and put away. I put sandwiches on my menu plan so I can still say I planned dinner but it takes little work to actually make. While shortcuts are good at times, it's when my workouts have basically only been stretching all week, my family has twenty-five blankets to choose from but no unmentionables to wear, or are eating peanut butter sandwiches for dinner for the fifth night in a row, that the shortcut becomes a problem. Lately, I've approached praise with about as much effort as the above. I've just been going through the motions to check off a box. Read a few verses...check! Said a quick prayer...check! Thanked God for a couple things...check! But now I find myself worried about all the things and getting irritated over the silliest issues and I can't figure out why I'm so anxiety-filled??

Friends, we were made to praise Him! To really praise Him. To focus on His goodness when we're tempted to dwell on the badness of this world. It's impossible to stay angry at my husband over something when I start thanking God for him. I can't stay down in the dumps for long when - despite what is weighing me down - I lift up my hands in wholehearted worship to our King. It's a lot easier to not honk at the person who is driving like a maniac when I start to pray for her to get to the hospital safely because God knows that must be where she is heading driving like that. :) So today I'm practicing praising in all things. Focusing on Him, not me. We were created for praise and there's no way rocks in my kitchen will start to praise in my place.

It's fitting that all three kids just started singing this as I end:

"Your love is breaking out just like an echo, I feel it breaking out just like an echo....An echo in my soul."

May His love echo in your soul today as you praise His name!

*And a pic of my littlest praising Jesus a few months ago even though he was sick.

Lead Me To The Rock

Fists clenched, he lays stiffly on the ground.  His little body refusing to release any tension he feels.  His head pounds the carpet while he wails and I wonder if this toddler of mine will ever learn that banging his head on objects never ends well.   I watch as his sibling - the initiator of this tantrum - tries to appease him.  The toddler screams "NO!" and moves further away.  I call him to me.  "Gideon, come see Mama." Again he screams "NO!"  

Still, I know what he needs IS his mama.  It's late.  He's tired.  He just needs to be held and assured that it's all OK.  

I walk over to him and he jerks away.  I wait.  He screams.  Kicks. Flails.  Finally he glances my way.  He is ready to be helped. I happily oblige and hug him close.  "It's OK, buddy.  I've got you.  I love you, sweet boy.  You can calm down.  Everything is OK."  And with that, his fists loosen, his crying ceases and he snuggles in...resting in the arms of the one who loves him.

Yesterday morning - at an hour way too early to be awake - I woke up with this on my mind:

Psalm 61:1-4

Hear my cry, O God;

Attend to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
When my heart is overwhelmed;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

For You have been a shelter for me,

A strong tower from the enemy.

I will abide in Your tabernacle forever;

I will trust in the shelter of Your wings. 

I tried to let the words sink in.  "How do I get there, God?  How can I really feel like I am on that rock that is higher than I?  How can I be in the shelter of your wings?" Later that morning, a dear friend shared that she was struggling with worry and anxiety, so I shared the verses.  They encouraged her and I thought maybe that passage was just meant for me to remember so that I could share with her.  Maybe I was just the messenger.  Still, those scriptures and questions lingered in my mind throughout the day.

As I watched my toddler and his tantrum that night, it all made sense and my questions were answered.  Much like my little guy couldn't seem to make his way to me when that's what he really needed, I tend to do the same with God.  Life gets tough and I pray, but I don't always dwell in His presence. I am not good at the "being still, and knowing." I don't allow Him to soothe me.  I fight it because I'm angry or tired or succumbing to 53 different emotions all at once.

And in this Psalm, David is where I am at times.  Overwhelmed.  Crying out to God.  Wanting help, but not knowing how to receive it.  So what does he do?  David asks to be led.  

I'm quick to cry out, but not always good at allowing God to lead me into His presence.  He waits with arms ready, longing to comfort, but I must first stop jerking away.  I have to release my control and let Him draw me in to Him.  And when He does, just like David, I am able to recognize His strength.  I am able to dwell in His arms and trust in the shelter of His wings.  It starts first with a cry and then a willingness to allow Him to truly work, but when I do that, the weight of this world is no longer mine, but His.

And a picture of the cutie with the temper like his mama's. Yes, we're both a work in progress. 

Shifting My Focus: Still There

"Still there."

It's a statement made in NASCAR by spotters who are helping their drivers know the location of others cars so that they don't wreck.   I know this because my six-year-old son loves to watch YouTube videos where he can hear the spotter talking to his driver.  "Still there" is said a lot throughout the course of a race.  My very unofficial explanation is that it means a car is still beside a driver and he should not switch lanes unless he wants to crash.  (Sorry, sweet NASCAR writing husband of mine if I just made you cringe with my lack of racing knowledge).

"Still there."

We've heard that expression so much - thanks to our son's racing obsession - that it's become a family joke of sorts.  We will randomly say it throughout the course of a day for various reasons resulting in laughs that no one else would understand.  So it's no surprise that while I was exercising a few days ago (before going out of town and NOT exercising for a few days) that it popped into my head.  It was actually in reference to my accountability partners.  I wanted to give up about 6 minutes into a 27 minute workout.  I had multiple excuses for quitting:  Sleep was scarce the night before.  It's just too early.  I am out of the routine due to vacations.  I need to do laundry.  I need to make a grocery list.  I need to just pause and think about if I want to finish.   On and on went the excuses in my head. I didn't quit though because I knew my success sisters - as we refer to each other - were  STILL THERE.  Working out in their own living rooms...not giving up...fighting along beside me...helping me not to make a wreck of myself by allowing excuses to dictate my health journey.   It motivated me and compelled me to suck it up and finish.  

"Still there?"

It's the question I've pondered at times throughout life.  Is He there when I am so burdened by weights of this world that I can't feel Him?  Is He there when I feel overwhelmed in parenting and even though I pray to be a better mama, I still fail daily?  Is He there when my husband and I allow the responsibilities of this world to get in the middle of our relationship?  Is He still there when I can't seem to hear His voice even when I try really hard to listen?  Is He still there...beside me...in front of me...behind me...carrying me...in any type of close proximity?  

"God, are you still there????"

Like much in my life, I get from point A to point B the hard way.  So while I am contemplating if He's still there, anxiety begins to overtake me and suddenly the world as I know it feels like it's crashing in on me and I FINALLY get desperate enough to drop to my knees.  (Note to self...make prayer more of a priority on a regular basis and maybe you won't freak out so much.)  It's not in the desperation that He always responds to me.  Sometimes He does, but sometimes it's after the desperation...when I have emptied myself of myself.  When I lay aside how I WANT Him to respond and diligently seek Him with a willing and grateful heart...sometimes, that's when I hear Him the loudest...

"Still here."

It's something I know within my soul.  When I open my Bible, His promises flood my heart and mind. Verses that remind me that He will not forsake His believers.  I can see His mercies in the hardships that grow me. I can see His beauty in the nature that surrounds me.  I can see His grace in forgiveness.   I can see His presence in the many blessings he bestows upon me every single day.  As I think about those blessings and begin to THANK Him, I release all inhibitions and suddenly I KNOW that He is here.  And, much like a NASCAR racer is compelled to move forward and not sway when his spotter calmly states, "Still there" I can look toward Him  and move forward in full assurance that the God who ordered my steps before I was even born is "still here."

Friends, there is so much power in thanksgiving.  In finding gratitude in all areas of life.  When we shift our focus from ourselves and our inabilities and instead focus on Him and His goodness, the results are life-changing.  Let's hold ourselves accountable to this verse:  "In everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:18

**Just for fun - and because this proud mama thinks he is super cute - a photo of my NASCAR loving boy who got this mama thinking about "Still there" to begin with. ;)

Always Watching

Moments like this make my heart smile...

My little warrior dressed up as a football player.  Here's the thing...His big brother (aka his hero) created this get-up yesterday.  Only, he was wearing it...

The pacifier is his mouth guard. ;)

Somewhere along the way, the little brother observed.  Several hours later - while the oldest was at school - our little guy decided to imitate him. And, goodness, he did a good job. 

He is always watching him...always...

Longing to be just like him.  Forever wanting to do what he does...

I am humbled and honored that I get to be a daily spectator of this brotherly bond.

And, just as our youngest looks up to our oldest boy, all three of my babies are watching me.  Observing.  Viewing.  Retaining.  Imitating.

It's a weighty position to be in, but an incredible position as well.  

This morning as I watched my little football player, I texted his picture to a friend..."My reminder that they're always watching..."

Always watching,

So I strive to be better.  To be the best me.  To reach within myself and to do the things that my flesh wars against daily...Exercise, eat healthy, stay calm, speak softly, love deeply, smile when I don't feel like it, honor my commitments, admit my mistakes, apologize, play hard, clean my house, and yes, even do the laundry.  

If my children are going to imitate me, I want them to imitate the best me.  Not the me with the short-fuse.  I don't always get it right.  I fail daily.  But in their mama, I pray that they will see perseverance, determination, and grit.  More importantly, I pray that they will see Christ in me.  That they will learn through my actions that when mistakes happen, we pray to God.  When life is difficult, we cling to Him.  When we need direction, we seek His face.  

My sweet littles...They love large already... 

I need not worry about them...For He who has begun a good work will be faithful to complete it (Philippians 1:6) for them...and for me.

Rerouting the Journey

"She is rerouting us again, Mommy?"  That sweet girl of mine knows all too well that her mama is directionally challenged.  The GPS tells me to turn left and I turn right. It happens way too often for my liking.  The good news: whether I miss a turn or not, the end result is always the same...we get to our final destination. It may just take us longer than we anticipated.

Want to know something awesome?

If you're seeking God's will in your life and He tells you to go one way and you mistakenly go another, it will be OK.  You may be rerouted to go on a longer, slightly more complicated path, but the final destination will be where He wants you to be.

So, if your journey seems rocky right now, take courage in this:

"Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.  The Lord works out everything to its proper end..." Proverbs 16:3-4

Remember that nothing comes as a surprise to God.  He already knows what turn you're going to take before you take it and He already has it all worked out.

Hurting Our Own

Christians are held to high standards when it comes to loving non-Christians.  As it should be.  The Bible states that the greatest commandment is love...God first and others as yourself (Mark 12:28-31).  We are to go out and tell the "Good News" (Mark 16:15). Win others with love so that they will come to church and, ultimately, accept Christ.  We don't want anyone to go to Hell.  So there is an urgency.  Do we always get it right?  Absolutely not.  I've heard countless stories of people being hurt by those who feel the need to judge instead of love. It's heartbreaking. If you are reading this and have been one of those condemned by Christians, I apologize.  We ALL are so flawed.  Incredibly messed up.  But, for Grace...none of us would even be here.  The church needs to work on loving, not hurting.  I get it.

What happens though inside the church?  What happens when Christians hurt other Christians?  This is not spoken about as much in churches across America.  People are silently hurting inside the building that they are supposed to be able to go to and seek refuge...solace from a crazy, chaotic world.  Join in "unity" with those of like-mind.  Fellowship.  Praise Jesus without inhibition.  Hear the Word come forth without wondering what those around them are thinking.

For every story I've heard of a non-Christian feeling judged by Christians, I've heard at least five more of Christians being hurt by Christians.   Maybe part of this is because I've been raised in church all my life.  Here I sit in my thirties wondering why is this considered to be OK?  Why is it OK for several members of the body of Christ to loudly proclaim to not hurt people "of the world" but stand silent when their own church members get hurt by their counterparts?  Yes, I know we are to "turn the other cheek" (Matthew 5:39). We should not allow "bitterness to take root" (Hebrews 12:15).  I've heard so many times, "Well, the Church is made of humans - all who are flawed - and we can't expect for it to be perfect."  Of course we can't.

Still, it's wrong.

Jared and I know people who have been so hurt by the church that they refuse to go back.  They would rather worship at home.  Worshipping at home is fine and necessary, but we wouldn't be told to not "forsake the assembly of others"(Hebrews 10:25) if that wasn't important.  We know people who are terrified of other Christians learning a family secret because they know they'll be judged...or their family member will be judged.  When you can't share with those you consider to be your friends out of fear of retribution, there is something seriously wrong. Stories of people who are just not nice.  Rotten, really.  They think it's OK to just say whatever they want because it's not like "Christians are perfect."  People who cry during a church service because they are feeling shunned by other Christians. People longing for real fellowship but being told that their Christian friends are just too busy.  People who are being criticized because they are voting for this one or that one or no one. People who hurt others all week, but smile on Sunday morning like they are the most God-fearing humans.  It disgusts me.

We can complain about America not being unified, but why should it be?  Yes, we should be one nation UNDER GOD, but we don't even act like we are one church UNDER GOD.  We're destroying our own.  We're fighting battles with this world and we're losing because we are wounding our own people.  We have people who are considering leaving their faith.  People who are beginning to question if God is really good because His people are so mean.  How can we bring the lost in if we are losing our own?

We can't.

Is this really how it should be?  Should we excuse our behavior under a blanket covering of Grace?  Should we act like a high-school with cliques based on social status, ethnicity, background?  Or should we hold ourselves to higher standards?  We have been changed by Christ who DIED for us.  Shouldn't we diligently seek Him to allow Him to change us and form us to be more like Him?

I will be the first to admit that I don't get it all right.  I mess up every single day.  I am as flawed of a Christian as the next.  Know that I point the finger to myself first.  And, really, that's the only place any of us should be pointing a finger...to ourself alone.  If we focus on God helping us with our own flaws, maybe we won't be so quick to point to others.  Maybe we will stop hurting and start healing.  Maybe we will become nicer.  Better people. Maybe we will begin to see others through His eyes and not through our own judgmental filters.  Maybe then the church can become a place of joy and solace for ALL...the lost and the un-lost.

Would that be so bad?

A couple disclaimers:  I know that not ALL people in the church act like the above.  There are so many kind people in the church.  If you have been questioning if you should attend a church, just go for it.  Most of the time, the good that comes from the experience, far outweighs the bad.  Also, when I refer to "the church" I am referring to the body of Christ as a whole...not a specific church.   If you are reading this and know me and think you know who I am referring to in any of this, you probably actually don't as all examples were generalized.  And, if I have ever hurt you in any way and haven't made it right, please reach out to me so that I can make it right...and also learn and grow.

Second "Birthday" in Heaven

Addi:  Mommy, I need you to text God.
Me:  Sweet Pea, I can't text God, but we can talk to Him whenever we want.
Addi:  No.  I need Him to tell Izzy something...

Izzy.  The baby we lost.  The baby who would be two sometime this week.  The baby who Jared and I think is a boy, but sweet girl is convinced is a girl...her only hope for a sister.  She named her Isabelle...Izzy for short.  She thinks about her a lot.  Tells her friends and strangers about her sister who is in Heaven.  Bless those precious strangers who listen intently and show compassion.  And bless those who quickly turn away, because responding to something like this is tough.

That sweet baby...12 weeks of life inside me was not enough.  But, there's our joyful Gideon...and he wouldn't be here if that baby was.  So, we question nothing.  We accept it all.  But, one doesn't replace the other and we sure do love and miss that little one.  Especially, this "birthday" week and that week in May when we joined a "tribe."  A huge group of people, far too many...mommies and daddies and siblings that will forever love someone in Heaven that they never even got to meet.

And, our girl...since she couldn't text God, she wrote a note to her sibling.  A note she is convinced God will share with that precious baby.

"Izzy, I hope you have a good life.  I love you very much.  Love, Addi."

I assured her that life is so great in Heaven.  And, that our baby knows we love her (or him).  She hugged me close, looked up and blew a kiss...first to her sibling and then to God.