Exalt Devo 2

As we go into the Christmas season, I am reminded of the significance of Jesus' birth.  The words are easy to say and sing and gloss right over.  Jesus was born.

Jesus who, let us not forget, is God.  Divine, Holy, Creator, Exalted, Father, Glorious, Perfect, Loving, Powerful, and Everlasting.  Was born - meaning became human, entered the world of His creating.

At Easter we will celebrate his rescue plan for our sinful selves, but at Christmas we celebrate the moment this holy, exalted, powerful, loving, eternal God willingly chose to become one of us.  With confidence, we can say that He understands our needs, our struggles, our passions, our dreams, our joys, our challenges, and the entirety of our human experience.

Think about the times you have particularly felt that Jesus understood exactly what you were experiencing.  When has He felt remarkably close?  When has He been exceptionally praiseworthy?  When has He been especially comforting?

This evening, let's stand and praise Jesus together, that He understands and stands with us in every part of our lives.  As I begin, let us lift our hands in praise of a God who became human.  I invite you to be courageous and praise Him aloud for a specific time, good or difficult, that you knew that God got it and was right there with you.  Just say a word or a sentence and let's pray together, celebrating what it means that Jesus was born.

Jesus, thank you for becoming one of us.  We want to thank you for the many times that we have known beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you hear, and see, and understand us....
This Christmas, Lord, let us not forget the immense impact of the fact that Jesus was born.  Amen.

Exalt Devo 1

You know those days when you mess up?  Not the ones where the photo radar catches you or you discover you've been mispronouncing a word all your life or you swear in front of your Oma.  The ones where you hurt someone you love.  The ones where you say things you regret the second they are out of your mouth.  The ones where your reactions are ungodly, your attitudes impure, your motives selfish.  The ones where, even while you are still kicking yourself for the last blunder, you can't help but fall again.

We are so flawed.  We are so weak and powerless.  So human.  So sinful.  A thousand times we've failed.

I know a lot about days like this because I live with many small children.  Sometimes I can't even tell when these days are starting, as they begin fairly benign.  Maybe one kid will get out of bed and immediately go to claim the favourite cereal bowl for himself - this month's favourite is yellow.  Not necessarily malicious, just centered very much on the interests of self.  But it doesn't take long to devolve into shoving matches over who gets to hand out the vitamins, hollered accusations about who is being too loud, and words like 'poopy-head' being spat in each other's general direction.  Sometimes, but not always, we manage to avoid teeth marks on flesh.

Maybe it's easier to think of on toddlers.  Maybe it's easier to think of as just happening the odd time - to delude ourselves into believing that that's not the real us.  But those days are more reflective of our hearts than we would like to admit.  We might not push, yell, name-call, or bite, but if we are honest, that sinful ugliness is right there inside of us and it comes out in one form or another day in and day out.

So what happens with my kids, in the middle of those days when I want to hide in the shower, eat their whole stash of Halloween chocolate, or take up drinking?  Eventually, after they are separated, the tears are wiped away, and the drama has quieted, my four-year-old asks to pray.  He asks to pray because he already know that he can't just decide to change his behaviour.  He knows that resolving to do better is not going to fix things long-term.  And he knows that spending time sitting with Jesus is what his heart needs.  In simple words, he shares his struggles with Jesus, confesses that he is weak, and asks for more love in his heart.  Oh-so-innocently, he trusts that Jesus has the power to change him on the side.  Those few minutes fill him up and he marvels at the power of Jesus inside of him.

The trouble with being a grown-up is that we are more practiced at hiding our sin.  And we are better at appearing more competent at doing things by our own power for longer periods of time between major down-on-our-knees-before-the-Lord melt-downs.  Let me tell you, daily surrendering on the inside, is so much better than fighting to do things ourselves, somehow trying to prove that we can.  We are so flawed.  We are so weak and powerless.  So human.  So sinful.  A thousand times we've failed.

But God?  He is everlasting and His light will shine when all else fades.  He is never-ending and His glory goes beyond all fame.  Would you do what my four-year-old knows we need to do?  Would you go to Jesus now?  A thousand times we've failed, still His mercy remains.  Should we stumble again, still we're caught in His grace.  In our heart, and our souls, let us give Him control.  Let Him consume us from the inside out.  Take a few minutes right now, in your own heart,  and tell Jesus where you are at, confess what you need to confess, and then praise Him for His grace and for who He is to you today.

...

Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades.  Never-ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame.  And the cry of our hearts is to bring You praise, from the inside out, Lord, our souls cry out.  Amen.

Power (Isaiah 40:29)

Today I feel weak.  Tired and stuffed-up and not at my physical best by any means.  And the truth for the day is that you give power to the weak.  The sinking feeling of irony when I read the verse this morning is being replaced with evidence of truth over and over as you give me power in my weakness today.

I praise you, Father, for being extreme.  You don't use half-hearted words, make whimsical claims, or empty promises.  You don't just give me a little boost, or the bare minimum to make it through the day.  You give power.  To me.  Thank you for being the source of the power that motivates, energizes, and courses through my body, mind, and soul.

Full of Grace

Colossians 4:6
Let your conversation be always full of grace

Why is this so much easier with anyone outside of my household than with those inside?

Listening with grace comes easily, when I am with the friend who is struggling with her demons, wondering if God has given up on her and if she should give up on God.  Extending grace is second nature when it comes to a family member, whose particular pains and struggles I know about.  Offering grace to a neighbour is natural, when I know that I am one of few examples of Christ he has in his life.

But with my children?
But with my husband?
Those are the conversations I wish were full of grace.  Brimming with grace and empty of frustration, exhaustion, insensitivity, anger, mocking and eye-rolling, passive aggressive comments, and selfishness.

'Lord, let my conversations be always full of grace' is almost too big a prayer to pray.
But let grace fill every crevice of my sad and weary heart.  So that it would overflow into thoughts and into words and into conversations.  For today I pray, 'Lord let there be a portion of grace amidst my conversations and grow me to a place where I might step be drowning in the very fullness of grace.'

Tough

This is tough.  But you are tougher than you know.  Dutifully, you carry your day's load of books - mostly Franklin and Berenstain Bears.  You whisper that you will tell the nurse which story is your favourite - even as you are shy to even think about speaking to a nurse.  You ask if it's still snowing outside and wonder wehether we will get the room beside the Christmas tree.  You don't want to be here any more than I do, yet you excitedly check around the corner from triage to see what show is on in the waiting room.  Toopy & Binoo get your cheer of approval.  You blast right through the intake process of thermometers, blood pressure cuffs, and the finger clip with the red glow.  As a nurse prints your bracelet you call out to her that you got a bracelet at Tinkertown too.  With every new doctor or nurse that enters the room, you avert your eyes, wisely not trusting these people with sharp objects.  But slowly, each of them gets you to open up a little bit more, some of them even earning a sly smile or goofy grin.  A few hours later we pack up to go, your body filled with the medicine it needs to fight this bugger, your bag filled with as many stickers as you had needle-pricks, your mind filled with thoughts of the Franklin book that the last doctor suggested, and your heart filled with the pride and confidence that only come by overcoming.  You are tougher than you know.

2 Thessalonians 3:5

Direct my heart into Your love, where it is safely harboured
from the opinions of others, especially my own.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it skips a beat with excitement
and then pounds only to know more of You.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it grows deep roots
that can weather every doubt and difficulty ahead.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it is filled to overflowing
with Your goodness and grace and mercy and peace and joy and patience.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it can channel
the Resource those around me so desperately need.
Jesus, direct my heart into Your love.
Jesus, direct my heart into You.
Jesus, direct my heart.

THAN(i)K(o)FUL

The way you go back outside to push the stroller into the garage while I am undressing your brothers after our first real winter walk.  You don't say a word before or after and I don't even notice until half an hour later when I remember to go put it away myself.  As I find it perfectly returned to its place and the garage door closed - who knew you could even reach that high? - I am so overwhelmed with thankfulness for you, Niko.  Your awareness of what needs to be done, your willingness to help out where you can, and your humility to allow your work to go unnoticed.  I am so honoured to parent the amazing little dude you are.

Rev 2:17 A Name Only the Two of Us Undertand

As I have had more and more people share their journeys and struggles with me, I have come to think of myself in a new light.  I have recognized my genuine attentiveness and have marvelled at this aspect of myself that I had never noticed or labelled before.  I have added Listener to my names for me.

When I became a parent, elements of patience and humility came out previously untapped places in my heart.  As the challenges have grown, so I have grown in response to them.  I was made to do this and without the blessing of children, God would never have been able to reveal this part of me to me.  I have added Humble to my names for me.

Living in community during my two trips overseas exposed a part of me that yearns for deep and lasting connection.  The friendships I built during those times had so much more depth and meaning than any I had previously experienced.  Having to leave them, brought such pain and the insight that I needed one or two relationships of that level at home on a permanent basis.  I have added Made for Relationship to my names for me.

The years of work I did with people who have special needs opened my eyes in many ways - not the least of which was to a passionate part of myself.  Through those experiences, God showed me what I had suspected about my heart for the overlooked and that my gift to see and feel compassion for those needs was not universal.  I have added Compassion to my names for me.

The challenges of school and friendship and hormones that accompany teenagehood, made my cling to my faith, my foundation, my family, and my Father.  While I recall many questions and doubts and temptations, I also recall holding on to Truth through it all.  My faith became stronger as I chose to make it mine, independent from the faith of all those around me.  I added Deliberate to my names for me.

Every time I find myself taking on a new role, facing a new challenge, or entering a  new stage I get excited to see what new aspects this will reveal about God and what new characteristics this will reveal about who He created me to be.  So the concept of getting a name from Him that only I will understand gives me goosebumps.  What does He see in me that I have yet to notice?  What secret gifts and passions and truths has He placed in there for us to discover together?

Missing my Marriage (3)

In an effort to love Bernie as deliberately and thoughtfully as I do my friends to whom I am not married:
Today I will thank him for his capacity and skill at sharing the parenting well.
Tomorrow I will kiss him passionately.
This week I will speak in only uplifting words and tones.  (I will not second-guess or verbally roll my eyes.)

Golden

Back and forth, I've got this split personality going on inside of me.  They're not yelling at each other, but there is constant bickering narrative: They are still so young and full of energy.  Why can't they just walk in a straight line?  Let kids be kids.  Can we ever do anything without looking like a gong-show?  They will grow out of this soon enough.  I can't wait for a calm entrance with regular blood pressure.   Try to savour these moments.  Walk in a straight line, dammit!  And on and on it goes inside.  Waiting for that golden moment when they are walking beside me, faces washed, laces tied, chatting peacefully.  A moment is void of running, chasing, competing, tripping, falling, hollering, wailing, and whining on their part and void of calling, reprimanding, and sweating on mine.  Is it so much to ask?

That's not my only golden moment dream either.  A shower with no one shouting for me.  All five of us sleeping until 8am on the same day. Listening to a sermon.  A day without discipline issues.  Everyone dressing themselves, walking out to the van, and buckling themselves.  Children playing pleasantly and supper made.  Reading a novel cover to cover.

Lord, don't let these hopes be the ones that shape me.  Don't let them dictate my attitudes and interactions with my children.  My constant hope of knowing You, seeing You, loving You, serving You, becoming more into Your likeness - that's the golden moment that I want to be the undercurrent of my day.  May You have cause to love my loyal heart that would rather inhale your peace than fixate on their chaos and our collective mayhem.  I'm taking a deep breath (and another and another) and defiantly pinning my allegiance on Your truth above the truth I seem to be sinking in.

Disillusioned

My favourite thing about you has always been your genuine interest in other people and ability to be enthusiastic in sharing their joys.  As a kid, I loved seeing you spend hours crocheting three baby blankets for each of your nieces' babies.  When I was a teenager, I realized that the way you could rejoice when someone shared their good news with you on the phone, was not a universal personality trait.  When we were finally able to tell you that we were going to have our first baby, I am sure you were every bit as thrilled as I was.

I longed to have that ability too - to be selflessly and authentically supportive of someone else's joys and triumphs.  I have always tried to see the many ways that I am like you, searching for that gift in myself.

A few years later, my observations seem to be shedding such a different light.  I see cynicism and skepticism and my childhood image of you darkens around the edges.  I see relationship rifts and a strip of perfection is peeled off of the ideal version of you I have known.  I see self-righteousness and believing the worst of others.  As my tears fall, I reach for one of those baby blankets, finger the crocheted edges and dream of the time when what I used to know of you was all I knew of you.

You are still who I once knew, but you are also more.  And I am learning to love the you I know now.

To 18-Month-Old Lachlan

My son, you are rockin' the 18-month-old world of discovery these days!  And it gives me great cause for laughter, for groans, and for expectation to be party to these discoveries of many kinds.

First there is the realm of trouble-making discovery - an exciting realm for you, to say the least.  You can unpack entire cupboards in record speed and you hear the sound of the dishwasher being opened from the farthest corners of the house.  You narrowly escaped great injury when I walked in to the kitchen to find you pulling the handle of a pot of boiling water from the back element of the stove toward the edge, a feat you had only accomplished by first wrangling a chair out from under the table, pushing it across the room, and hoisting yourself onto it.  You've given me practice at cleaning up a potpourri of basil, turmeric, and cinnamon from the floor and fishing your most-loved teddy out of the toilet.

The realm of self-discovery has been going on much longer and, yet, it is still mesmerizing to behold.  While it began early with exploration of fingers and toes, you are now discovering language and communication.  You are attempting words like 'mama,' 'dada,' 'sock,' 'baby,' 'ball,' 'car,' 'milk,' and the extremely important 'cookie,' grinning when you see that we understand.  And you are realizing that you also understand us, as you are eager to show that you can do what we ask when we say 'go get your bear' or 'go give Daddy a hug.'  You get beside yourself with giddiness when you become aware that your big brothers are deliberately trying to get you to giggle.

My favourite realm right now is discovery within family.  I cannot help but treasure up the moments when you are figuring out how you fit in to us.  Your eyes light up when the shenanigans of your brothers can include you, because when you are 'kaboofing' with them on the bed, we can all feel how perfectly you belong.  Watching you recognize that for yourself is a powerful thing for a parent.

To know that you are so confident, at this young age, that you are always in the centre of our love for you brings me to my knees before Jesus as I seek wisdom to parent in a way that you can remain secure in that love.  And it simplifies my own Father-daughter relationship as I remember that there is nothing I have to do or be that could put me any more at the centre of God's love as be watches me 'kaboof' and chuckles to Himself contentedly.

1 John 5:20

I want to sit at your feet and listen, because you are the one whose words make sense.  They are authority given voice.  They are truth and comfort and wisdom and grace in a baritone that makes my knees shake.  You are the one sent to be born in the very same flesh I was born in.  To dwell among us and be one of us.  To know my human experience for yourself.  And you are the one sent to change that human experience forever and for right now.  To speak simply and open the complexities of the universe.  To be of HIM and like HIM and from HIM and bring the whole of HIM down here so I could begin to understand.  You are the only logic and peace and order that ever make me whole.  I want to sit and your feet and hold up my listening heart to you.

Seen

God, who is unseen, You see what is done in secret.  (Matthew 6:6)  Right now, I don't even need to know that you reward these hidden things.  Just clinging to the hope that they are seen is more than enough for me as I wrestle.  There is so much and it is so heavy.  My processing has slowed down because my heart is bogged down.  It is loaded with a hefty heap of burdens-of-others lumped together with a substantial helping of discovery-of-me as I recognize in myself empathy and gut-wrenching compassion for those whom I love and whose lives I touch.  I recognize that You are giving me greater and greater grace by which to see the people around me, though I never would have thought that grace would bring such a weightiness.  As so much is quietly going on inside me and in the fragmented whispers of my ongoing conversation with you, I thank You, Lord, that you have eyes to see what no one else does.  I, every bit of me, am seen.

Why Do Church?

Maybe it's because it's so long and so tiring.  Three hours is a long time to keep the kids walking not running, in sight, safe, occupied, focussed, decently behaved, fed, bathroomed, and generally pleasant in a public setting.  Also, it's a long time to be close to a bunch of people I like and would enjoy talking to, but always feel multi-distracted.

Maybe it's because the exhaustion and multi-tasking has been going on for so long.  I feel like I remember when it was enjoyable, relaxing, and energizing.  It was both socially and spiritually satisfying.  But that was a very long five years ago.  And the end of this stage doesn't seem to be in sight.

Maybe it's because I'm not involved enough to see the good stuff that is happening.  I remember when I used to know more of what was going on and why it was going on.  But it just isn't practical to do more in this season.

Maybe it's because it feels bigger.  It's grown and I don't know the people or the programs or the leadership.  I don't know what decisions are being made or why they need to be made in the first place.

Maybe I've been there too long.  Thirty-one years is a long time in the same place.  At some point does it stop being faithfulness and start being laziness?

I don't actually know what it is, exactly, but I'm starting to wonder if I belong at our church.  It scares me a bit to even think those words, because it has been so long and it is all I know and I do so love the community I have there.

But even on the good days, when the kids are contained and happy, when I get to chat with someone, and when I hear the majority of a sermon, I'm still not fully convinced.

And there is the conundrum that if I shy away from involvement I feel like the whole church experience does not have a lot of value.  Yet if I get involved, I so often feel disheartened.  Years of being turned down for music ideas.  Processes that move so slowly.  Repetition and predicability and so little vision or passion or excitement or change.  My spontaneity and my personality don't fit in.  Maybe I just wasn't made for church.  I don't want to bail, but I need to be reminded of why I am doing this.  Instead it just feels like another disappointment is on the horizon.

Give me grace, Lord Jesus, for my brothers and sisters.