Stretch Marks and Surrender

She said that she was just being honest. 

She had two babies and she didn't think that she wanted to have any more--because she "wanted her body back." 


She was "just being honest" and she said what so many others are thinking--

But I wished that she hadn't just left it at that, "honest" though it was. 

And I look down at my eight-month-pregnant belly and I touch the stretch marks--all red and glaring and unlovely and think--

There are things more important than stretch marks--(and won't I get my new body in heaven, anyway?)--

And I think of my tiny daughter and the baby growing inside of me--and the stretch marks become a thing of almost-beauty, a thing of surrender, a thing of sacrifice. 

My body for the life of another, for the sake of another life brought into the world, a little person, a precious soul. 

The stretch marks take on a new significance. 

And I hear people talking and they speak my sometimes-thoughts--the thoughts that are selfish and unlovely--the thoughts that need to be yielded and surrendered to the One who purifies all things--

And they say, in essence, that they want to have all of their children in the span of a few years, so that they can "move on" with their lives, with their careers, with pursuing the things that bring them momentary happiness. 



Are children just another "nice thing" to tack on to our existence? Or is there something deeper? 

Children are eternal beings, eternal souls loaned to us for a season--that we may point them with all of our energies towards the Eternal Father who gave them to us. 

And we sometimes think--"oh, let me 'get past' this difficult season with my children"--the time of teething, or of sleepless nights, or cranky days, or times when our children are needy in some way. We wish that they would "hurry up" and be able to talk, or walk, or ride a bike, or go to school. 

But I'm learning--and it struck me recently--that every season in our children's lives is a gift. 

It struck me last night when I was awake with my daughter from 12:30 am until 3 in the morning-- when she finally fell back to sleep--when I felt overwhelmed and heavy with sleep and forced my weary pregnant body to give just a little more--even though I didn't want to. I found that I could take His strength and trust Him. 

Whether it be learning to walk or to talk or to tie shoes or to ride a bicycle for the first time--

Or whether it be the sleepless nights, the teething, the tantrums, the cranky days, the setbacks--these are gifts too--unlikely as it may seem--to teach us to depend more upon our Heavenly Father and to entrust our children to Him, and to His wisdom. 

Each day is a gift, an opportunity to depend upon the Lord in whatever set of circumstances that He hands us with our children. 

And sometimes it is really hard, and we feel like we are "losing it," and we just want the day to be over, for the turmoil to stop. 

But He gives more grace in those situations, in whatever form it may take . . . He gives us grace, if we will depend on Him and surrender. 

I want my body back . . . 

Or my career back . . . 

Or my freedom back . . . 

Or my time back. 

But it isn't mine---

Sometimes I forget that--

It belongs to Him--it is "mine" only to surrender, to serve, and to yield. 

Children can be very good teachers . . . 

So I yield to Him--

My body--just as Jesus did, and bore the scars of submission and sacrifice. 

My career--because my "work is to do His will," in whatever form that may take as He directs my steps.

My freedom--because in Him only is my soul truly free--not in doing what I "want" or what the world says that I should want or deserve.

My time--because "my times are in His hands." 

Children aren't a thing to "get through," but rather to embrace, to cherish, to love, to raise up in the fear and submission of God. 

And sometimes it is hard--but ultimately, worth it. 

And the blessing rests upon those who will surrender. 

My body, my freedom, my time, my plans . . . and hand them over to Him--the One who is all-wise. 

And trust. 

That the seed that is buried will yield its fruit in due time--to the joy and blessing of our eternal hearts. 


Photo Credits: Amalia Lindegren [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons   (little girl)
Henri-Edmond Cross [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons  (mother with baby painting)
By William H. Majoros (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons (robin)




You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays

My Father's Voice

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

-C.S. Lewis

Source

Sometimes I still think that I can hear his voice . . . 

Down in the kitchen--gruff and deep,the low tones of a winter's night wrapped in sandpaper.

And I can imagine his heavy-work-worn hands, the scar on his thumb where it was almost lost in a carpentry accident. 

And I can hear him calling me "Fuzz;" his nickname for me because of my frizzy hair and remember the way that he made his coffee midnight-strong in the morning. 

I used to wake up around the same time that he did--5 am--he because he didn't want to "waste the day," and me to be able to pray before I went to school. 

We didn't want to waste the day . . . 

But his Day was wasted and he turned away from the Voice of the Father, the voice that once called him and beckoned the proud heart to Himself. 

The proud heart that broke --

Broke his family and his God and hardened into a molten rock, so thick and deep and stony, and it wouldn't be broken, only used to crush. 

The hearts of the ones who loved him most--

The hearts of the ones who called him husband and daddy--

The hearts of the three little girls who held his hands and sat on his lap, and who craved his love and affection and attention.

The heart of the woman who lived and built her life around his--who always wanted the best for him and forgave the lies over and over and over.  

They almost broke. 

But the Lord uses stones that try to crush to purify and to magnify His grace and mercy through heartache and loss.

We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed— always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. (II Corinthians 4:8-10)

The Father of mercy--who causes grief, but will yet show compassion . . . 

And I learned through those days, those years dim with sorrow and mourning and wishing, praying that things could be different, that my Heavenly Father is enough--

That He fills things that are empty with joy--

That He makes rivers from deserts

The wilderness into a road--

And the Valley of Achor into a door of hope. 

Sometimes I still hear his voice, 

But it has grown fainter--

And my Heavenly Father's, stronger--richer--fuller--bright and strong and full of hope and redemption--has grown more beautiful and real to me.  

I can hear my Father's voice. 

Part 3: The Perseverance of Prayer

“Never, never, never give up.” 

--Winston Churchill

“The joy which answers to prayer give, cannot be described; and the impetus which they afford to the spiritual life is exceedingly great.” 

--George Mueller

"If we desire our faith to be strengthened, we should not shrink from opportunities where our faith may be tried, and therefore, through trial, be strengthened.” 

--George Mueller

"The Giver"

To give a thing and take again

Is counted meanness among men;
To take away what once is given
Cannot then be the way of heaven!

But human hearts are crumbly stuff,
And never, never love enough,
Therefore God takes and, with a smile,

Puts our best thing away a while.

 Thereon some weep, some rave, some scorn,

Some wish they never had been born;
Some humble grow at last and still,
And then God gives them what they will.

--George MacDonald
Poetical Works, Vol. 2

Then He spoke a parable to them, that men always ought to pray and not lose heart, saying: “There was in a certain city a judge who did not fear God nor regard man. Now there was a widow in that city; and she came to him, saying, ‘Get justice for me from my adversary.’  And he would not for a while; but afterward he said within himself, ‘Though I do not fear God nor regard man, yet because this widow troubles me I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.’”

Then the Lord said, “Hear what the unjust judge said. And shall God not avenge His own elect who cry out day and night to Him, though He bears long with them? I tell you that He will avenge them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will He really find faith on the earth?" 
(Luke 18:1-8)

Past summer and walking the long lonely corridors of Barrington High School.

Past the summer that he left, that every week I searched in vain for his family in the long, wooden church pew. 

And they weren't there. And he didn't come back. 

I was so sure -- so sure -- that he would come back. 

So sure that I wore the same dress three weeks in a row -- the one that I wanted him to see.

But there were greater lessons to learn and deeper things to surrender. 

My heart at 18 was "yet unripe," as Christina Rossetti would phrase it -- yet unripe, and the Lord had many lessons to teach me about the patience of waiting, waiting upon Him. 

And I thought that I could love him -- that this was the one that the Lord had for me, though I had never let on to him that I felt this way. 

I believed what the Lord said in the book of Job -- that no purpose of His could be thwarted, if the plan and the purpose were truly of Him. 

I believe in the sovereignty of God. 

And yet, the Father took him away -- and I was so sure--

So sure, so I didn't understand why the Father took him away. 

But now I understand that it was to teach me -- to give me my first great lesson in surrender and the need for persevering prayer. 

So I prayed. And I cried and I poured out my heart to the Lord in poetry and journal and prayer. 

And I offered back to Him what I thought that He was giving to me -- offered him back to the Father and surrendered my will. 

My first real lesson in persevering prayer. 


He left in June. 

And then, 7 long months. 

And I didn't call him and I didn't write him -- I just left it in my Father's hands -- my personal conviction is that a man should pursue a woman and not vice-versa -- and so I left it in my wise Father's hands -- and I prayed. 

And I read Tennyson and wept--

And I read the Psalms and I wept--

And I went to school and I poured my heart into my work and prepared my college applications and I wrote and I prayed and I wept. 

Until I surrendered. 

Not my will, O Lord, but Yours---

I think that it was December 17th.  Just before Christmas -- as the hope of promise, of salvation born was drawing near. I see things symbolically, for better or for worse . . . 

My will surrendered, not clinging anymore to what I wanted--

He called. 

Seven months later--

And we talked -- and he asked if we could "keep in touch" -- the boy who would become a man and marry me--

Many lessons in surrender yet to be learned -- but here, the first promise -- the fruit of persevering prayer. 

copyright Ben Eshman

And he said, “Thus says the Lord: ‘Make this valley full of ditches.’ For thus says the Lord: ‘You shall not see wind, nor shall you see rain; yet that valley shall be filled with water, so that you, your cattle, and your animals may drink.’ And this is a simple matter in the sight of the Lord; He will also deliver the Moabites into your hand. Also you shall attack every fortified city and every choice city, and shall cut down every good tree, and stop up every spring of water, and ruin every good piece of land with stones.” Now it happened in the morning, when the grain offering was offered, that suddenly water came by way of Edom, and the land was filled with water. (II Kings 3:16-20)

Persevering prayer -- the intervention of the hand of God -- the hand of God and not man -- the arm and strength of God alone, that all the glory is His. 

How easily do we, do I give up, despair of God's help when we pray? 

What we see as so overwhelming, so impossible, is a "simple matter in the sight of the Lord..."

He wants to teach us to pray. He wants our dependence to be upon Him . . . 

Open your mouth wide and I will fill it . . .  

And there are times when something that we desire may not be His will for us, but do we even begin to seek Him in prayer over things that we don't know the outcome of?

Because He will teach us -- as we submit our will to His, as we pour our hearts out in prayer, even as Jesus did in the Garden, He to the sweating of agony's blood--

Take this cup away, and yet not my will . . . 

How far will we go to pursue Him? And how easily do we give up when things don't seem to be going well, when  it doesn't seem like the Lord is listening? 

If you have run with the footmen, and they have wearied you,

Then how can you contend with horses?

And if in the land of peace,
In which you trusted, they wearied you,

Then how will you do in the floodplain of the Jordan? 

(Jeremiah 12:5)

There are times when something that we desire may be His will -- if we will pray, in persevering prayer--

You have not because you ask not . . . 

And often these are the situations that the Lord uses to teach us to rely upon Him, to surrender to Him--Until our will is one with His -- when we have surrendered -- and then He grants us "the petition we have asked of Him, the beloved thing that our heart desires -- (see I Samuel 1).

Some humble grow at last and still,

And then God gives them what they will.

And we sometimes get this idea into our heads that it doesn't matter -- that it doesn't matter if we pray or not, because "God's will" will be done, regardless.

We forget the mystery of prayer -- of persevering prayer--

Source

And Elisha said to him, "Take a bow and some arrows." So he took himself a bow and some arrows. Then he said to the king of Israel, "Put your hand on the bow." So he put his hand on it, and Elisha put his hands on the king's hands. And he said, "Open the east window;" and he opened it. Then Elisha said, "Shoot;" and he shot. And he said, "The arrow of the Lord's deliverance and the arrow of deliverance from Syria; for you must strike the Syrians at Aphek till you have destroyed them." Then he said, "Take the arrows;" so he took them. And he said to the king of Israel, "Strike the ground;" so he struck three times, and stopped. And the man of God was angry with him, and said, "You should have struck five or six times; then you would have struck Syria till you had destroyed it! But now you will strike Syria only three times." II Kings 13:15-19

Do we stop striking the ground of persevering prayer so easily, or do we continue to strike it in hope -- all of our strength and mind and trust engaged in the God who hears?

There is power in prayer, mysterious power in persevering, believing prayer, coupled with submission and trust in the Father's wisdom and sovereignty.

A mystery -- to be embraced by faith. 

At the same time that we must accept the Father's will and submit to His authority, we are also admonished to knock at the gate of faith's door through prayer -- that it may be opened to us. 

Persevering prayer . . . and the pleasure of the Father in "granting the petitions that we have asked of Him," to the praise and glory of His grace. . . 

To encourage and fortify our hearts in Him and build a deep, trusting relationship--

And bring glory to His name. 

Jesus is Enough . . . Easter Memories and Mercies

We sat there together on the chalky white bench.

Chips of paint peeling off and dropping like ants to the ground. 

Londie and I . . . sisters in our freshly-pressed Easter clothes, squeaky new shoes on our feet. 

We always wore our new church shoes on Easter Day. 

My Mom would take us to the old Ames, or to Ann and Hope, and we would pick out shoes for Easter -- shoes that we would be able to wear to church through the summer. 

I remember the white patent leather and trying not to let my new shoes get any black smudges on them. 

We were so excited . . . 

Easter was so special to us . . . 

The Day of Resurrection, of joy, of hope after the long days of Winter. 

A Day to celebrate our Risen Lord and the glory that He has shed abroad in our hearts. 

I remember my Mama's face shining in church, the hope in her eyes as she sang the beautiful Easter hymns with gusto. My Mama loved much . . . and loves much still . . . 

My Mom and sister, Londie--shortly after my Mom became a Christian

And my sister, Londie, so full of spunk and like a little mother to me, always helping, always encouraging, always guiding without bossing, her voice scratchy and strong, singing the hymns, too. 

And then little Lishy, her tiny, short legs swinging in the church pew, her long hair tumbling down around her big, lovely, searching eyes.  

Finally, me, smack in the middle -- frizzy dark hair wisping around my face -- my aspirations in those days mainly limited to trying to imitate Sandy Patti, and getting to act the part of "Laura" in all of our Little House on the Prairie imaginary play. 

We would go home to the crispy browned ham and to the lovely round rolls and to our earlier-opened Easter baskets. And desserts would be at Auntie's -- all the wealth and fanfare of an Italian family's delicious sweet spread. 

Easter was so special . . . 

My Mom, beforehand, would prepare her "Easter bread," a huge anise-flavored braid, shiny and decadently-festooned with bright Easter eggs all colored and tucked in to its creases all around. 

And we would cut huge chunks of it and revel in all of its bready goodness. 

We didn't have much, but we had Jesus, and He is enough. 

Easter was special and Jesus risen and our hearts glad . . . 

The glory of our hearts and the light of our eyes -- a time for celebration and rejoicing -- a time to delight in His precious gift of life. 

A time to shout for joy in our hearts and to wear our new shoes and to proclaim that He is risen indeed . . . 

For He is . . . 

Her Soul is Safe . . .

And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.  Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will.

Matthew 10:28-29

She lies still, asleep.

Her breathing even and slow, her face washed over with peace and contentment.

His presence is near and the Guardian of her soul is ever-watching.

Even while she sleeps.

And I watch, too, her tiny frame so small in her crib, so small in our room, in the great world around her.

Sometimes I worry,

sometimes grow panicked with worry--

  --worry is not from Him . . .

Will she be safe?

Maybe it's from reading a lot of missionary biographies, reading a lot about the persecutions endured and suffered by other believers--

But I worry about this a lot -- even before she was born.

Will she suffer persecution as a believer of Christ? Extreme persecution -- the hot, fiery arrows of Satan -- because the world grows darker . . .

And I often wonder if the great darkness before the dawn will fall as a cloud upon us soon.

The world has forsaken Him . . . it will reject us (we are promised this in the Scriptures).

He who endures to the end will be saved. 

Standing over her crib the other night, as she fell asleep -- my mind raced with these thoughts--

Lord, will she be safe? Will the Enemy of our souls seek to crush her spirit, to wrack her body with pain -- with persecutions and agony and suffering? Will she suffer as a believer of Christ?

And then a thought came -- not my own -- but from His Spirit speaking to my heart--

That her soul is safe . . . that alone matters . . .

It came to me then, like a great river of peace into my thirsty, heavy soul--

And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.  Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will.

Not even a sparrow -- my Mama's nickname for little Debbie -- "Row-row" -- little sparrow bird -- not even a tiny, insignificant sparrow.

He soul is safe. If her soul is safe, then there is nothing left to fear, to dread.

Even the grave has no victory.

And there may be pain, and there may be agony and suffering and grief -- but ultimately -- glory -- and peace and rest . . . and eternity with Jesus.

Do not fear those who can kill the body . . 

Do not fear. 

There is no fear -- when the soul is safe in Him.

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;

Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:

For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;

His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,

On earth is not his equal.

Better to Obey . . .

“It is to the man who is trying to live, to the man who is obedient to the word of the Master, that the word of the Master unfolds itself.” 

― George MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons: Series I, II, III

It tasted so good.

The sweet and sour chicken that my brother-in-law picked up for me on Friday night.

My husband was working late -- and here I was, pregnant -- and the sweet and sour chicken just tasted so good. 

But I'm trying to be careful with what I eat -- I was pretty careful all week -- this was a treat -- a salty treat. 

I had eaten about half of it, and I was full. And I felt my conscience, felt the Holy Spirit speaking to me then and telling me that I had eaten enough. 

I was full. I knew that if I ate any more (as I have in the past) I would feel sick and sluggish and my ankles would most likely swell like sausages. 

So I wrapped it up. I put it away. I prided myself on the "good" example that I was setting for my watching daughter and happily placed it in the refrigerator, planning in my mind what I would have later as a healthy dessert. 

A few hours later.

I put my daughter to bed, was feeling tired and discouraged. Somewhat thoughtlessly, I opened the refrigerator and there it was. My half-eaten sweet and sour chicken -- Chinese takeout -- the "opiate of the masses." 

I took it out and ate the rest . . . it didn't even taste that good. 

Later, feeling sick and bloated and frustrated, I asked for forgiveness. 

Rather than taking my weariness and discouragement to the Lord, I had taken it to sweet and sour chicken -- and the only "consolation" that I "got" was that of a sick stomach and a restless night.

It's always better to obey...

The alternative isn't worth it.

And we forfeit peace and joy and holiness and rest for a lukewarm morsel that only makes us sick.

It's always better to obey.

When we sense the Spirit of God speaking to our conscience -- whispering some word to us about self-control or trusting the Lord, or being slow to become angry, etc., it always behooves us to listen.

An idea struck me this week -- when we love the Word, we obey it. 

And our obedience is a testimony to how much we truly love the Word of God. 

The Word is not just a Book -- yes; it is transcribed for us in a book -- the Bible -- but the Word is a Person -- the flesh and blood Person of Jesus Christ.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth --and we beheld His glory . . . 

He speaks to us through His Book and through the Person of the Holy Spirit -- who makes that Book come alive in our hearts as we surrender to Him in obedience. 

A few years ago, my sister introduced me (more in depth) to the writings of George MacDonald. 

His emphasis on being obedient to God in the seemingly "little" things made a deep impression upon me and has helped remind me of how important it is to do a thing that the Lord wants us to do once we become aware of it.

Simple things like laying out our family's clothes for church the night before so that I'm not overwhelmed and running late in the morning--

Things like picking up toys and books as we use them rather than letting them sit and pile up (as much as this is possible with a young child). 

Things like asking for forgiveness quickly when I've wronged someone rather than letting it sit and frustrate and fester.

When we don't sense or "feel" the presence of God at any particular period of our lives, I've learned that the answer doesn't always lie in waiting for Him to give us an epiphany.

The renewal of that sweet sense of His presence often comes through taking the small, difficult steps of obedience that lie before us, even when we don't feel like taking them.



Getting up a little earlier in the morning to spend time in the Word of God when we'd rather sleep--

Truly listening to someone who is speaking to us rather than being distracted by the 100 things on our to-do list--

Exercising self-control and patience and humility and trust in the areas of our life where the Holy Spirit is convicting us, rather than giving ourselves an excuse--

Spending our time in edifying conversation and pursuits that bring health to our souls rather than wasting our lives on things that really won't matter in eternity.



This is how we, how I demonstrate love for the Word of God--for Jesus, the Word--through quiet, simple steps of obedience in the day to day things that happen to me.

When we love the Word, we obey.

Recently, I watched a video clip of Chinese Christians receiving Bibles for the first time.

It brought me to tears when I witnessed how these precious believers pressed the Word to their hearts as they were handed their copy of the Word of God and praised Jesus openly, kissing the Bibles that they held.

So full of joy -- kissing their Bibles because their eyes have been opened to see Jesus as the living Word.

Kissing their Bibles as if they were kissing the Son.

Beauty and truth in their open hands and in their open hearts.

So persecuted, so poor, the refuse of this world, their hearts wide open to receive His truth--

Why?

Perhaps because when we come to a place of emptiness, of brokenness, when we have suffered long for righteousness' sake, He is ready to fill us with His presence, with his joy, with his Word--

And of His fullness we have received . . . 

Grace for grace. 

And if we are too "full," too "stuffed," with the things of this world, this life, His fullness cannot fit -- and we are just bloated, worldly-fluff-filled beings who have eaten too much Chinese takeout. 

We don't really care for the things of Christ . . . We  aren't aliens and strangers here; we're friends with this world and all of its pleasures.

Friendship with the world is enmity towards God. 

We have to ask ourselves, do we, do I have that kind of all-encompassing love for Jesus Christ, that I would take His Word and kiss it and press it to my heart?

Is it that precious to me? Do I even hold those kinds of emotions towards Him?

Am I prepared to suffer persecution for His sake, or am I too comfortable in my heated home with my flannel pajamas and the promise of vacations and entertainment and "stuff?"

Am I spiritually empty?

We have to ask ourselves these hard questions, especially when we hear stories of our brothers and sisters suffering persecution and deprivation and hardship in countries like North Korea and China and Belarus.

They care about Jesus -- they've been willing to lay everything down for him--even their very lives--

What am I willing to lay down?

What do I care about?

What does my heart seek?

And he who seeks to save his life will lose it, but he who loses his life for My sake will find it--

He is our Treasure; His Word our hope. Only in obedient surrender do we realize these truths--

And press His Word to our hearts -- as our salvation and glory.

 Photo Credits: 

wEnDaLicious / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND

But for Grace . . .

"There is no pride so dangerous, none so subtle and insidious, as the pride of holiness." 

----Andrew Murray

"She wears A LOT of make-up." That was my first thought. 

I looked at her picture and I mentally judged her character based on the amount of mascara that she had on. A Godly woman. A woman who had proven herself a servant of the Father, a humble example of grace. 

What was I really thinking? What was my heart saying? "I would NEVER wear that much."

Did it matter how much foundation she had on her face? Didn't the Lord see through to the beauty of her soul? But here I was, judging by the outward appearance, thinking myself just a tiny bit better because I supposedly had a tad bit more "discretion," and because my lipstick shade was just a little lighter. 

We can become caught up in "secondary" issues -- things that don't ultimately matter in the light of eternity and lose sight of what is real and important. 

Is it right to pierce my ears?

Can I wear a skirt that is just above my knee?

How tight is too tight?

Is my hair long enough? Is it wrong to cut it?

We become encumbered in these issues and forget what the Lord requires of us--

To do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. 

And there is a present pride that is real and rampant in each of us -- that needs to be subdued and crushed daily, through the power of the risen Christ. 

And that is the sin of rebellion.

The old, Garden-of-Eden transgression. 

We think of rebellion as those "obvious" sins -- drunkenness, swearing, premarital sex, open flagrant acts--

We forget about the "little," hidden things, the carefully polished piece of forbidden fruit that we conceal in our pocket, shining it until it is just ripe enough to bite. 

We forget that "rebellion" is more than drinking, swearing, disobedience to parents, premarital sex. 

Rebellion is any form of pride.

Because pride is rebellion against God.

And this is why the Pharisees and the Sadducees received Jesus' greatest rebuke. These "whitewashed tombs" were literally full of rebellion and hypocrisy. 

I can do well to heed the warning . . . It is only too easy to become a beautiful, marbled place of death.

Fairly recently, I was surprised (surprised, but not shocked; there is nothing "new" under the sun) to hear that the President of Vision Forum was stepping down. 

A strong advocate of the "Quiverfull" movement and a powerful influence within some conservative Christian circles, Doug Phillips was guilty of the sin of a "natural" man--he behaved "inappropriately" with a woman who was not his wife. 

And so he and his family suffered the shame of his indiscretion -- to a greater degree, I think, because of his strong, insistent advocacy of Christian marriage, the importance of the marriage covenant, the purity of his own sons and daughters, and (in my own personal opinion) a strongly legalistic, unbiblical approach to the whole issue of biblical "courtship" and childbearing, and a father's patriarchal role within his family -- and how these issues should play themselves out within Christian relationships and family structures. 

(I would add a brief note here that I believe that there are some very Godly individuals who subscribe to these and to other such movements -- It is my personal conviction that these individuals are misled in their interpretation of Scripture in these particular areas -- but some are otherwise very sincere and Godly individuals who love the Lord with all of their hearts.)

I've always felt uncomfortable with Doug Phillips and his teachings because they smacked of pride to me -- not overt pride, but always the undercurrent of it. 

And I see the same pride in my own heart and shrink back. 

I know from experience the power that it can wield. 

I know from experience the danger of thinking too highly of myself.

And I know how capable I am of it.

My husband and I saved our first kiss for our wedding day -- Were we any more "pure" than Elisabeth Elliot and her first husband, Jim, who shared their first kiss on the eve of their engagement?  

I think not -- I know not.  Each child of God is responsible before Him for their actions and in-actions. And the Holy Spirit convicts different Christians in different ways in these so-called gray areas where the will of the Father needs to be sought for each individual life--always within the guidelines of His Word, but unique to individual Christians as they seek His Spirit. 

And again these decisions need to be prayerful, obedient responses to His Word, applied in our lives through prayer and direction from the Holy Spirit.

It is when we cling to a "pet" idea, philosophy, or principle -- or even to our own moral goodness based upon our interpretation of Scripture, rather than to Christ Himself -- then, no matter how "good" or wholesome or "right" these things may be, we are in danger of succumbing to spiritual pride. 

He alone can teach us whether or not it is best for us to wear a skirt above the knee (and it may be "right" for some and not for others--the issue is the motive of the heart--not the exact length of fabric), when the "right" time is to share a kiss, what respect for our husband means for us Biblically, and so on.

Does it matter what term we use to describe the time that we spent with our life partner before marriage? As someone once commented, "I've known some very impure 'courters,' and some very God-fearing 'daters.'" 

And I won't say that the words that we use to describe things aren't important -- they are -- but they aren't the "end-all" -- rather, our heart's motives and the fear that we have towards God are. 

And there is much good--or at least, good principles--in many of the things that Doug Phillips, R.C. Sproul Jr. and those who are like-minded, purport.

For example, their "quiverfull" idea which springs from the truth that "children are a treasure from the Lord."

Their high regard for Biblical manhood and womanhood.

Their insistence upon purity before and within the marriage relationship.

However, it is when these ideas and truths are not joined with humility and a sincere searching of God's Word that things go awry and confusion sets in.

When, instead, the idea itself is clung to proudly and arrogantly, dismissing any other interpretation of God's Word -- within the realm of orthodoxy and legitimate interpretations of the Scripture.

We can strain out the gnat and swallow the camel.

And our own spiritual pride entraps us.

When I was a young girl, if someone would comment to my Mom about her parenting, she would always answer -- "It's only by the grace of God."

And her constant response made a strong impression upon me.

I knew, from my experience, that my Mom gave all of her heart and strength, poured every ounce of herself into raising us.

She literally went for years without buying new clothing for herself, made strong, costly sacrifices to stay home with us when we were very little, and was constantly, mentally and spiritually engaged in raising us up, to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion.

And yet, whenever anyone asked her what the "secret" to her parenting "success" was, she always answered, "only the grace of God."

Because my Mom believed that the Lord had given her a physical illness so that she would become closer to Him and pour everything that she had into her children.

Because she believed that He protected our family despite my father's constant backsliding and unfaithfulness.

Because she put her trust in God and knew what she was capable of without Him.

And I read about people who give all of the credit to themselves, with God as a sidenote, and my heart is disturbed.

I read about people whose children never (outwardly) rebelled, who never miss a church service, who glory (honestly) in their own goodness, in their own efforts.

And I think -- maybe they have forgotten that it is only because of the grace of God.

They think, we think, I think, "Oh, it is something that I have done -- some good thing, some right thing, heeded some scriptural principle -- that is why my family, my job, my dating relationship, etc., is flourishing."

And if anything goes wrong, if a child rebels, if the sink gets backed up, if my daughter won't sit still in church one day, that we have "messed up" in some way.

Not necessarily so.

Maybe -- and we definitely need to reflect, repent of things done and left undone, but the Lord at times allows trials such as these to test us, and to help us to remember that everything is grace -- that it is "only the grace of God" that touches what would have, could have been an ugly disaster and makes it beautiful through Him.

When we put our confidence in our own efforts, become enamored with our "correct doctrine," or parenting methods, or excellent child-rearing abilities, we forget the grace of God.

And again, I'm not saying that it it not important to pour all of our strength and mind and heart into the work that the Lord has called us to, whether it be parenting or some other vocation/ministry, but our spirit must be so knitted to Him, that we know that

nothing in our hands we bring; simply to His cross we cling.

It is His grace working in and through us to bring glory to Himself.

It is His mercy that makes everything beautiful in its time -- nothing that we have done.

We simply offer Him our obedient hearts -- or our desire to want an obedient heart, and we cast ourselves upon Him.

And when we look up, from a position of humility, His hand reaches down and blesses us--

The glory is all of His, none of ours.

We lay our crown at His feet--

And bless Him.

 

Bless Thou the truth, dear Lord, to me, to me,

As Thou didst bless the bread by Galilee;

Then shall all bondage cease, all fetters fall;

And I shall find my peace, my all in all.

Thou art the bread of life, O Lord, to me,

Thy holy Word the truth that saveth me;

Give me to eat and live with Thee above;

Teach me to love Thy truth, for Thou art love.

O send Thy Spirit, Lord, now unto me,

That He may touch my eyes, and make me see:

Show me the truth concealed within Thy Word,

And in Thy Book revealed I see the Lord.

--Mary A. Lathbury

This was a very good, unbiased  blog post that I came across while researching the Doug Phillip's affair--very worthwhile to read and to reflect upon- written by a homeschooling mother of 8:

http://www.kendrafletcher.com/kendra-fletcher/2013/12/6/what-doug-phillips-forgot

Photo credit --mascara
 Manuel Marín / Foter / CC BY

Publican and the sinner:
 Lawrence OP / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND

Flower:
 Jason A. Samfield / Foter / CC BY-NC-SA