Irrevocable Trust

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”

Psalm 56:3

My father stood across the living room in his purple, cotton shirt. The ceiling of the Quonset hut curved behind his wavy, black hair. His bleary eyes stared at my mother who was dark with anger. Sitting upright on the Naugahyde couch, she cradled my sister and me on either side of her. I could feel her thin build stiffen next to me as she narrowed her eyes. There was vomit on the green, shag carpet from a guest who had passed out – the catalyst of the argument. Earlier that evening, the house was full of laughter as colorful people drank and talked in our living room. Cigarette smoke swirled overhead while ice clinked in glasses and the reel-to-reel boomed songs by Sinatra and Martin. I was young. Four or five. Alcoholism was not in my vocabulary.

“We’re leaving!” my mother announced as she ushered us into the bedroom.

My sister was older by two-and-a-half years. Her taller frame stood next to mine on the bed as my mother briskly tied our puffy kimono-like robes around our thin, tan frames. My mother’s short, black hair did not move. Everything about her was efficient, clean, crisp. She was an R.N. and worked in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) on base.

“You’re not leaving! I won’t let you!” my father said as he entered our bedroom. The gun was obvious, but my mother didn’t flinch.

I loved my father. When he was sober and wearing his Air Force blues he seemed safe. But, I couldn’t trust him. He was unpredictable. Scary. In my heart that night I vowed that I would never trust a man.

“Go ahead. Shoot us!” my mother blurted as she scooped us up and walked briskly outside before plopping us in the car. We drove away to the sound of locusts screaming in the trees.

For many years this event, and others like it, colored my relationships, even my relationship with God. To cope with the instability I withdrew, surviving through a world of fantasy. Fear defined my inner life. Fortunately, many years later, God revealed the vow I made as a little girl, “I will never trust a man.” This vow was like a seed that germinated behaviors like self-protection and distrust, enabling me to shut myself – my real self – off from the world. But, God rescued me at the age of twenty-eight and brought me into a love relationship with Him that forced me to question my normal. Intimate relationships were terrifying, painful and not worth the effort. Eventually, through prayer and counseling, God revealed several deep-rooted lies that had been hiding in my heart for years. The lies, like weeds, choked out the roses of security, love, patience and trust that God longed for me to experience. He spoke these tender words to me from Isaiah 43:1-3…

“But now, this is what the Lord says—he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.’”  

An unstable childhood is a reality for many of us. Like me, you may have struggled with reconciling the truth of your past with God’s character. When I was a young believer God’s personality was morphed together with my father’s. It was a distortion; a Holy God I couldn’t trust. A God that may not be there when I need Him most. A God who loved me but wasn’t always delighted in me. A God who would abandon me…someday, just like my father. It took many years for me to see how I was dishonoring God with these lies. Fear and anxiety took over as I tried to protect myself and failed. The pain crept in and I felt…abandoned. Forsaken. Betrayed. In a pit of self-pity God showed me my sin saying, “I am not a man that I should lie. I am not your father.”

He is not my earthly father. He is trustworthy and always patient. He will not love me one minute and dismiss the next. He will not abandon me. He is Love. I can trust Him…irrevocably. It has taken many years of walking with God to come to a place of owning these truths. I still struggle with trusting men in general and have lapses where I forget I have a Godly husband who loves me. The trust struggle also continues with God as I recognize the familiar feelings of fear and anxiety in situations where I feel helpless. However, I have learned to accept these moments as gifts of reflection. No one likes to have their faults exposed (ouch) but God gives us the gift of a holy mirror, allowing us to see the smudges of sin on our faces. Only then will we allow Him to gently wipe them clean with His blood.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths

for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.”

Psalm 23:1-6, NIV

Originally written by Marlene McKenna for havhope.

A Season of Simplicity

More. Too much. Not enough. Want. Need. Now. These are the words I often find myself speaking over life when I am forcing too much. I am now in a season called for less. Motherhood, marriage, discipling, learning, and growing has called me for a quietness of life, mind, and soul. And it has been a process and a journey that I am still traveling on.

The last month or two have proven this to be true. I was spreading myself thin, saying yes to so much (all good things, but still too much), feeling like I need to do more, and wanting to have more. This is a cycle that is easy to get trapped into. But the truth is, I am doing it to myself. I am choosing to overfill my days with tasks, schedules, stresses, things that are taking my energy, and then I feel like I need more of it. And then there is nothing left for the things that I cannot choose that are put into my life. Also, I have less to give to the things that matter most: my husband, my children, and my God. When I step back and really examine it, it seems silly that I would do this to myself over and over. But the reality is, God will lead me to do what is right for my life at that time if I seek Him and listen to Him. His ways are present to me in the Word, through prayer, through worship. I need to stop and reach out more constantly, daily. It is so difficult to do this when I am distracted by all the things that I feel I need to do, think about, and have.

So I stop. I reach out. I listen. And I hear Him telling me to let go. Let go of some commitments that can wait for another time in my life, let go of possessions, let go of want for more. I keep coming back to the words that a very wise woman speaks often, “I can do everything, just not all at the same time.” And this is where I find myself. He is telling me to wait, to listen, and to just be.

Since I have been dwindling down my list of things I need to do, to have, to think about, I have seen more of Him and His call on my life. I have been more present with my children, being able to truly disciple them from my heart where God leads me. I have been able to connect more with my husband and friends.  I have been seeking God more in the everyday moments. I have been able to take care of myself and my soul to better serve others and God. And it is sweet. I am not near perfect, but I am thankful for the freedom to rebuild, to try again, to have grace in those moments where I fail to live out the order of my priorities.

Simplicity brings a certain kind of freedom; freedom to be present, to be content, to be thankful, to hold space, to be intentional. I have found a great peace in my soul during this time of simplicity. I feel that the Lord is teaching me to let go so He can grow me. I am learning to be a more present mother, wife, friend, and servant. When there is less clouding my mind and life, there is space for more to enter. More of what really matters - what Kingdom matters. I am forced to examine myself and ask “What am I worshipping?” Where is my time and energy going? And I have to face the answer. And I have the ability to change, to accept grace, and to start afresh.

We are inevitably beings bound by time, and we cannot escape it. But we get to choose how we spend it. In our culture, it seems that we are being pushed to and flooded with things that will only cloud us. Be here, do this, buy that, and you will be happy. But that is not so. The more I long for goodness, joy, happiness, the more I find that “things” do not provide that for me. It is a constant rollercoaster of learning this lesson over and over; one of my life’s biggest struggles. Coming from a person raised in a “now, more, and fast” culture, I often lose sight of what I truly value in my heart of hearts. When things are stripped away, I encounter this again and again. Intentionality, peace, joy, loving, teaching, learning, serving, listening, and worshipping. Thankfully, there is grace for the times that I do not pursue this. He is also pursuing me, and I need to take a breath and look for Him, as well.

And now, when I am stripping away unnecessary things from my life, my mind, my soul, I see more of Him. I hear Him speak to me. And so, I believe that He is louder when I have less to quiet Him.

Less, enough, intentional, joyful, filled, thankful, peace.

Originally written and published by Allie LaPointe of Born Well.

Six Ways to Redeem Playdates

As a mom of three little boys, playdates are part of our regular rhythm of life. My kids love playing with their friends, and I should love fellowshipping with other Christian moms, right? But to be honest, playdates often leave me discouraged. I go into a date longing for Christian community, but walk out feeling like it was no different from time spent with nonbelieving friends.

I recently shared my feelings with a few other moms (ironically at a playdate), and I was surprised to learn that they feel the same way. How is it that we — a group of moms who love Jesus — can gather for two hours and talk about nothing more than diapers and diets?

We decided then and there that it’s time for our playdates to be seasoned with the gospel. How do we practically achieve that? Moms, here are six ways we can redeem our playdates.

1. Practice humble hospitality.

Playdates give us an opportunity to welcome others in the joy of the Lord. God’s word tells us to “show hospitality to one another without grumbling” (1 Peter 4:9). Remember, little ears are always listening. Do your children hear you complaining about the state of your house, or do they hear you eagerly anticipating fellowship with friends?

A tidy, beautiful home can help foster fellowship, but it is by no means a prerequisite. Go ahead and clean your house, but let the lingering crumbs and fingerprints communicate humility and camaraderie, as if to say, “I’m in the trenches, too.”

Greet your sisters, nephews, and nieces in Christ with holy affection like you would your own family (2 Corinthians 13:12). Create a context for redeemed playdates by showing humble hospitality.

2. Use playdates as a spiritual training ground for your kids.

The Christian playdate should be a safe and grace-filled training ground for our kids as we seek to train them up in the way they should go (Proverbs 22:6). If your child hits another child, privately instruct him in confession and repentance. If yours is the one with the bump on his head, comfort him and help him extend forgiveness to his friend (Luke 17:3-4). Lean on and encourage each other as you seek to raise children who will love the Lord.

3. Choose your words wisely.

One of the marks of female Christian fellowship should be wholesome, edifying conversation. When we get together with other women, we have to be ever so careful to “let no corrupting talk come out of [our] mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear” (Ephesians 4:29).

While women of the world may complain about their husbands or dish dirt on their neighbors, Christ-following women are called to a higher and holy standard. This doesn’t mean we can’t share our struggles with one another. If you are struggling, by all means, speak up! But check the motives of your heart — are you venting to make yourself feel good or sharing with the expectation of being encouraged (and possibly rebuked) by your sisters in gospel love?

Instead of tearing others down with your words, build each other up with Spirit-filled encouragement. Share what you have been reading in the Bible or what God has been teaching you about himself. You might even praise a child for her kindness, or tell your friend how you admire the way she handled a difficult situation. Speak words of life and point each other to Christ.

4. Look and listen.

Look for opportunities to serve one another in love (Galatians 5:13). Hold another mom’s baby, help a mom of three get her kids into the car, or bring a meal to the mom whose husband is away.

Listen well. Ask God to give you ears to hear your friend’s heart. Make sure you have really listened before offering any encouragement or counsel, and if you can, offer to talk in greater depth outside of the playdate (Proverbs 18:13).

5. Pray while you play.

Pray with and for one another. If your kids are still tiny and immobile, pray over them while they crawl around. If they’re a bit older, invite them to pray before snack time by taking turns praising God. Pray a silent prayer for the mom who is in the midst of disciplining her child. Pause and pray with your own child who is struggling to obey. Ask how you can pray for your friends during the week.

Teach your kids that we can pray even while we play!

6. Invite others in.

Jesus loves children and their mothers, and desires for them to know and love him too. “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them,” he says, “for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14).

The way to a mom’s heart is often through her children. Invite your child’s nonbelieving friends and their moms to your playdates so they can experience genuine gospel community and the love of Jesus firsthand. “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35).

Moms, it’s time to redeem the playdate. God has so much more in store for us in our fellowship than just keeping our kids busy until nap time. John Newton once wrote, “May Christ be our theme in the pulpit and in the parlor.” With God’s help, let’s covenant to make Christ the theme in our playdates — inviting him into our homes as we gather and play for his glory.

Originally written by Chelsea Stanley for Desiring God.

5 Ways to Love Your Kids When You're Running on Empty

My son, Caleb, has a new way of telling us how tired he is. He gives us a percentage.
“Mom, my legs are 35%, ” he declares in the middle of downtown Atlanta on vacation.
“Mom, my legs are 8%,” he warns in the line at the grocery store.
“0%. No power,“ he calmly states as he wilts into the ground at Sam’s Club.”

And when I see him there, a part of me thinks, “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

0%. No power.

I so want to love my children like my battery is at 100% all the time, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how in the world that could happen.

My mom did it. She managed to create an atmosphere of love and care in our home when she had to have been at 0% a time or two herself. Even now, my mom is still doing everything she can to remind me of how loved I am.

In a few days, it will be my birthday. My mom is a master of birthdays and holidays. She makes me feel like I’m are the only important person in the world. She tells me what she loves about me. She sends me thoughtful gifts. She asks to spend time with me, but she doesn’t demand my attention. She calls me and texts me and reminds my siblings to call and text.  And those are just what I get when I’m a thirty-five-year-old adult living states away.

My mom’s example is sometimes overwhelming to me. How did she find time to love us so well even one day a year? How did she do it day after day after day? How did she find the strength to pursue us when we pulled away, to listen to us when we weren’t making any sense, and to do just the right thing we needed it?

After reflecting a little myself, I think I’ve figured out how my mom loved me when I know her batteries were running low:

She listened. When chatter spilled from my mouth about friends and people and ideas and activities, she always made me feel like my story was interesting and important. She asked follow-up questions, made understanding faces, and stopped what she was doing to hear me.

She included me in her world. Whether it was a trip to the grocery store or a stop by the Dairy Queen, my mom always invited me and my siblings to come. Sometimes she made us go with her when we didn’t want to, but even though we were mad, there was something about being wanted and valued that made us feel important, and we never knew when a trip to the grocery store and a trip to Dairy Queen might be one and the same.

She told me. My mom was great at telling us she loved us, at praising us for our efforts and for our character. She noticed what I did and told me about it. I felt noticed and affirmed and loved.

She thought about me. My parents would often come home from a date night or a trip or an errand with an extra treat for us. Something about the way mom said, “ I bought those chips you like” sounded to me like, “I love you and know what you like and went out of my way to make sure you know that I was thinking of you today.” For all I know, chips were on her list, but it felt special to me.

She forgave me. I had a bit of a temper growing up. I can be direct. I am not the sensitive and thoughtful woman that my mom is. But every time I stepped out of bounds, my mom forgave me, most of the time before I asked. “There’s nothing you can do to make me stop loving you, but I love you too much to let you act this way,” she would say.

In our material society, loving our kids sometimes feels like so many tasks: making them elaborate Valentine’s boxes and taking them to the zoo and feeding them homemade bread and doing and planning and performing. These things drain my battery all the way to 0%.

But listening doesn’t cost anything, and bringing my son Nathan along to Sam’s Club to get frozen yogurt and have a conversation about nothing doesn’t take any extra time. Telling Isaac that I love it when he smiles and gives me a thumbs up or making sure Caleb’s burger has pickles on it—just the way he likes it—doesn’t take too much energy.

Letting my kids know that nothing they can do will stop me from loving them fills all of us with the energy we need to face a new day.
It’s not the elaborate tasks that charge our batteries. It’s the simple and consistent ones.

Originally written by Laura Wailes for Mothering Beyond Expectations.