This morning was to be an important moment in the life of my oldest daughter. She would take a step in her faith journey by receiving her first Bible at church. First thing, I worked to have my family out the door on time. The girls were in new dresses, everyone's hair was just so. Then AP lost it in the car over a missing book and everything tumbled apart. My nerves were on edge, my patience nonexistent.
We parked and made it inside only for it to get worse. I accidentally hit AP on the head with a door in my attempt to square away MP's belongings in the nursery before service began. She started to cry. I could get into more detail, and there was more, but basically I raised my voice at her and dragged her upstairs towards the sanctuary. What's worse, I blamed her for the accident.
There are so many excuses I could give for how this happened. Some would show you how I got to the point I did. But none of them really matter. What matters is that my quest for the way I thought the picture of this morning should look like turned me into a monster.
How often do we work for perfection and in the process miss the point?
I wanted both of my girls to be beautiful, with no tears on their faces or wrinkles in their dresses. I wanted smiles. I wanted my husband to miraculously decide not to take the last few minutes at home to himself like he always does, to do more than feed the kids breakfast and buckle them into their car seats (which he did).
Meanwhile, how did I look? There I was, yelling at my child in public, snapping at my husband when he tried to intervene.
I'll tell you how I looked. Ugly. Anything but the perfection I was striving for.
Later, during worship time, a line in a song hit me over the head:
"I want to love you when the blood in my veins doesn't know how to."
Blood in my veins. I'll tell you, the blood in my veins was running hot today. There wasn't much love going on in there.
So how do we love God, and in turn others, when the blood in our veins is so....human. How do we love like a perfect God when we are so imperfect? How do we love in those moments (and you know we all have them).
I think we start by acknowledging that He first loved us. And does now. I am humbled beyond words that God loved me through the poor decisions I made this morning. If He could love me through that, shouldn't I be able to love my family better than I do? If He could love me when I failed so miserably, shouldn't I do better next time?
Ah, there it is. His love, His grace, should drive us to do just that. To strive for perfection. But not our idea of perfection. Do you think God cares who wore what this morning? Do you think he cares whether AP's face was tear stained or her hair was combed? Surely not. God wants us to come to Him as we are. No primping beforehand, just raw and real and honest. That is the point. And as we do, and we experience His love, we are drawn towards a more perfect life. A life perfect because of and through Him.
There simply is no other way.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Fresh back from an extended Christmas vacation in sunny Florida, I'm relishing the fact that we're all healthy. Some of us even got a tan, yours truly excluded. The girls swam, KP had a full 10 days to relax, and I was able to come up for air after the whirlwind that the holidays always bring.
The trip gave us time to spend with both sets of parents. This was, for the most part, quite enjoyable. Through the gift giving, cooking, eating, and football watching, I realized that KP and I truly have our own family now. Through the years, we created a home and we run it and our lives differently than our parents. We both found humor in the subtle -and not so subtle- differences between us and those who gave us life. KP can't stand his parents blatant ignorance of expiration dates on food. My parents live in the middle of nowhere and you can't step outside for two minutes without getting locked out of the house. Generally, these things just make us laugh.
But in all the adjustments to each other there is something that kept the season bright, or rather two things: AP and MP. The joy that children bring to a holiday is undeniable. People tend to put their differences aside as they celebrate with the young. Part of it is surely the excitement, but another is their unshakeable faith in the unseen.
This weekend at church we took a look at Psalm 8. This song of praise has a verse right at the beginning that floored me. Verse 2 says: from the mouths of infants and nursing babes You have established strength (NASB). I saw this verse literally personified over the holidays in so many ways. Our youngest, now nearing 2, loves to pray. The moment we are all seated before a meal the smallest of the KPs is sitting calmly, hands clasped, ready to thank God for the bounty before us. It is so adorable that I found Kevin's not so religious parents excited for the dinner prayer every evening. MP allowed what could be an awkward situation (praying in the home of someone who doesn't practice such things) to become the norm, expected even.
When Jesus was teaching, his disciples attempted to keep the children who wanted to touch him at a distance. They saw no place for them there. Jesus saw otherwise, he was "indignant" (Mark 10:14 NIV). He knew the importance of the faith of a child. In fact, he spoke of our very salvation as tied to it.
Small children don't just think God loves them. They know it, in a way we as adults lose sight of. Sure, we can think of a long list of reasons why we lose it. Life happens, the world happens, hurt happens. But when anyone encounters a child's demonstrations of faith, their own faith is changed. God often uses small things to show His strength. Little people, little moments, little steps - this is where one will see God.
My favorite pose in yoga is the child's pose. A resting pose, it is the most comfortable position I've ever found for my earthly body. It stretches the right places and provides a place of peace. As I sat in it this morning, I realized how perfectly named it is. The pose, like a child's faith, just feels right.
Through the holidays, the time with family, and the break from the norm, my children reminded me to just accept the gift of God's son. Accept it fully, with abandon, and most of all with joy.
May we count our blessings all the way through 2012.
The trip gave us time to spend with both sets of parents. This was, for the most part, quite enjoyable. Through the gift giving, cooking, eating, and football watching, I realized that KP and I truly have our own family now. Through the years, we created a home and we run it and our lives differently than our parents. We both found humor in the subtle -and not so subtle- differences between us and those who gave us life. KP can't stand his parents blatant ignorance of expiration dates on food. My parents live in the middle of nowhere and you can't step outside for two minutes without getting locked out of the house. Generally, these things just make us laugh.
But in all the adjustments to each other there is something that kept the season bright, or rather two things: AP and MP. The joy that children bring to a holiday is undeniable. People tend to put their differences aside as they celebrate with the young. Part of it is surely the excitement, but another is their unshakeable faith in the unseen.
This weekend at church we took a look at Psalm 8. This song of praise has a verse right at the beginning that floored me. Verse 2 says: from the mouths of infants and nursing babes You have established strength (NASB). I saw this verse literally personified over the holidays in so many ways. Our youngest, now nearing 2, loves to pray. The moment we are all seated before a meal the smallest of the KPs is sitting calmly, hands clasped, ready to thank God for the bounty before us. It is so adorable that I found Kevin's not so religious parents excited for the dinner prayer every evening. MP allowed what could be an awkward situation (praying in the home of someone who doesn't practice such things) to become the norm, expected even.
When Jesus was teaching, his disciples attempted to keep the children who wanted to touch him at a distance. They saw no place for them there. Jesus saw otherwise, he was "indignant" (Mark 10:14 NIV). He knew the importance of the faith of a child. In fact, he spoke of our very salvation as tied to it.
Small children don't just think God loves them. They know it, in a way we as adults lose sight of. Sure, we can think of a long list of reasons why we lose it. Life happens, the world happens, hurt happens. But when anyone encounters a child's demonstrations of faith, their own faith is changed. God often uses small things to show His strength. Little people, little moments, little steps - this is where one will see God.
My favorite pose in yoga is the child's pose. A resting pose, it is the most comfortable position I've ever found for my earthly body. It stretches the right places and provides a place of peace. As I sat in it this morning, I realized how perfectly named it is. The pose, like a child's faith, just feels right.
Through the holidays, the time with family, and the break from the norm, my children reminded me to just accept the gift of God's son. Accept it fully, with abandon, and most of all with joy.
May we count our blessings all the way through 2012.
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