Faithful

We're going to pick up our son this week.

He's been gone for just short of two solid years.

And yes, there is definitely some anxiety going on behind the doors of this white farmhouse tucked between mile-high cornstalks.  Anxiety that, when left unchecked - unsurrendered - threatens to grow as thick and dense as those fields just bursting with the fruit of harvest.

Unsurrendered.

How often in my life I have refused to surrender.  How frequently I have given in to pride and self-sufficiency and just plain-old stubbornness and walked the winding trail of my own choosing, believing it would lead me off into rollicking fields and a blissful orange sunset.  And how often I've instead emerged torn and bleeding, fallen into the snare of my own path.  What a disappointment I must be: a willful child that refuses to learn except by trial and error, refuses to believe that God's way is good and perfect and, while not always easy, indisputably in my own best interest.  If only I didn't need to learn the hard way.

When will I learn to surrender?

In sleepless hours, I lie and think about all the things that could go wrong.  All the things that did go wrong in the months before my son's departure.  They were hell, those months.  For me, for my husband, for our entire family.  Hell.

Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom in bringing him home...in subjecting our little ones to the possibilities of his return.  Depending on the hour of thought and the darkness of that night, those possibilities can seem horrifying.  Too much for me to bear.

And then I think of that willful child, emerging from the wilderness torn and bleeding.  Humiliated, with no place left to go except into the awaiting arms of the Father.

He has never once turned me away.

Father God, I praise You for second chances.  For new beginnings.  For love that reaches into the very depths of infinity, and soothes my wounded spirit time and again like the kiss of summer sun on golden fields.  I praise You for Your faithfulness.

May we welcome home our wayward son with the same indescribable, unfailing love.

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Standing on this mountaintop
Looking just how far we’ve come
Knowing that for every step
You were with us

Kneeling on this battle ground
Seeing just how much You’ve done
Knowing every victory
Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Kneeling on this battle ground
Seeing just how much You’ve done
Knowing every victory
Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Never once did we ever walk alone
Carried by Your constant grace
Held within Your perfect peace
Never once, no, we never walk alone

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Box People

Are you a box-person?

Do you live in a world of rightness that you created yourself?

Are you a two car, two kid, one dog, house-in-the-suburbs, church-on-Sunday kind of person that never does anything uncomfortable or unexpected?  Never toes the line?  Never takes a first step, much less a second or third, from the imaginary safety of that perfect little cube you've built?

Have you ever even thought outside of your box?  You aren't alone if you haven't.

Maybe you're scared of what lies beyond the borders of your safe little world.  Maybe you're worried about what all the other box-people would think if you ever boldly stepped over the line of what's normal or acceptable.  Or maybe - just maybe - you're the arrogant one...the one that thinks your idea of a box is the only kind of box there should be, and you're the one shaking your head at the stepping-outside-the-box crowd.

We live in such a self-saturated culture that we grow up thinking that the world revolves around us and around what we want for our lives.  We're taught to do what makes us happy, to be true to ourselves, to follow our dreams, yet we also have parents to please and friends to fit in with and society to conform to and rivals to plague with jealousy.  We form opinions about things based on what sounds easy or fun or safe or exciting to us, or we simply do what's expected.  We make plans about everything, and we use our 'vast' intelligence to determine what steps we should take and what choices we should make.  In all of our self-centeredness...in all of our pride in thinking that somehow we know what's best for our lives, God and His designs get lost in the tangle of what we want for ourselves and in what seems to us to be responsible and fulfilling.

As a recovering box-person, I have a bit of news for you, box-world:

God does not think inside your box.

Comfortable box-people, have you ever inquired of God in all of your box-designing?  Have you ever given your thoughts and your ideas and your hopes and your dreams and your fears over to Him in prayer?  Have you asked again and again and again, repeatedly nailing your questions to the throne of God until you get an answer?  Have you given God the authority He deserves over your entire life?  What do you suppose could happen if you allowed Him to lead you?  Are you afraid?  Afraid of what the world will think if you do something out of the norm and all Jesus-y?  Afraid that God will break the parameters of your comfortable, predictable life and ask you to get dirty?  Afraid that He will lead you down paths that would open your eyes, break your heart, kill your selfishness, and force you to desperately cling to Him? 

Perhaps He would make your heart ache for the orphans of Haiti and plant in you the burning desire to make a home for a child that has little hope.

Perhaps He would ask you to trust Him, prompting you to leave behind a well-paying job and building your faith through unemployment, until He leads you to the next chapter in your career.

Perhaps He would ask you to move your family into a tiny apartment and to trust in His timing and in His perfect plan.

Perhaps He would ask you to trust Him with the number of children you will have, growing your faith in the same increments as He grows your family, leaving you to testify to God's unending goodness and provision.

Perhaps He would lead you to give up a huge chunk of your income to fund another family's adoption, or to assist them in finding help for their child.

Perhaps He would ask you to find a new job and rearrange your schedule, with less money and more sacrifices, allowing you to pull your daughter from daycare for a few extra days each week so you can have as much influence on her little life as possible.

Perhaps He would ask you to raise children with traumatic pasts, renewing you and teaching you to persevere beyond your human capabilities, even when the world says to give up.

Perhaps He would lead your family to sell your home and your possessions and move to Africa as missionaries.

Perhaps He would ask you to be a cheerful blessing to families in need, running their errands, fixing their houses or cars, giving up your time to serve them. 

Perhaps He would ask you to adopt a houseful of children with special needs and spend your life caring for them and showering them with the love of Jesus.

Perhaps He would call you to leave your home, learn a new language, and plant churches in a foreign country.

Perhaps He would ask you to homeschool your children, shattering your ideas of schooling and free time and hard work and daily stripping bare all your weaknesses.

Perhaps He would ask you to love as He has loved, forgive as He has forgiven, even when the pain in your heart threatens to consume you and you want to cling to your bitterness and pain.

And perhaps He would ask you to be a two car, two kid, one dog, house-in-the-suburbs, church-on-Sunday kind of person with an incredible heart for Him, just waiting for whatever He brings your way.

I have no idea of the ways God desires to use you.  He works differently in every Christian's life, and has a different plan and different work prepared for each of His children.  But if you truly belong to Him, He does have a plan for you, and it doesn't include your comfortable little box.

You may never know unless you give your box to Him.

Ask Him.  Lay your life at His feet.  Listen, grow, and wait for Him. 
And then hang on as He turns your box-world upside down.
You will never be the same.

Do Not Read if Naming your Body Parts makes you Blush

Scott and I just finished up a "Family Roadmap" class at church.  It was an awesome experience full of good information and Godly guidance for parents, like us, who are trying to raise up children in the way they should go.  The final class of the series was about talking to your kids about their sexuality.  Scary stuff, right?  And even after a whole bunch of good tips and facts presented graciously by none other than our pastor's wife, the whole subject still just kind of freaks me out. 

It's not that I'm all that worried about talking to my kids about sex, when the time comes.  There aren't a whole lot of subjects that I deem to be off-limits.  Honestly, I'm way more concerned with the words I might have to use in those discussions.  The problem is this: sometime in my childhood, it became solidified in my mind that the actual names of body parts (like penis) are horrifying. 

When I say words (like penis), I get this sort of tight feeling in my chest, and it gets really hard to swallow.

When I hear words (like penis), I involuntarily gasp, and then I get a bit giggly.

I actually *no lie* unintentionally drop my voice to a whisper anytime I have to say a word like...you know.

So when I learned during this class that it was probably best to use actual words to teach our children their body parts, I got a little worried.  And then I giggled.

"What do you do," I asked our instructor, "when your toddler son LOVES to talk about his *whisper* penis?  You see, he's quite infatuated with it, and so I taught him weenie because I thought it would be better, especially in public, if he didn't say......that other word....all the time."

Turns out, there's a pretty general consensus that teaching the correct terminology is better.  Apparently, it teaches them early on that there's nothing about their bodies that they should be ashamed of, in light of the fact that God created them wonderfully.  Who knew?

For the record, my little son, at three, is hardly ashamed of his weenie.  It's one of his favorite topics.  But, being a conscientious mother, I decided to set him straight to give him the best chance of being able to utter the word penis (heehee)  later in life, if he so chooses.  I calmly (and privately) told him the correct word when he wanted to discuss his weenie during a diaper change yesterday.  It took a little convincing, but I think he finally believed me. 

Today, out of the third row in the van, and much to the shock of my other kids, came this sudden revelation:

"My weenie is actually a PENIS!"

Gasps.  Giggles.  Shortness of breath.  Reddening of cheeks.

"Weenies are PENISES!  Can we talk about our PENISES?"

"Well," I said, "Penises are really only things we talk about at home...and maybe at the doctor.  They're private." 

"PENISES are private.  I like privates!  Can I talk about my PENIS when we get home?"

"Uh......sure.  For now, let's talk about something else.  Like maybe..."

"Turtles!"

"Perfect."

No shame.  I have the feeling that in a few weeks, I'll be pretty used to hearing the word penis. 

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Disclaimer: If your child is in Sunday School with my toddler, and he shares with him or her this word that may or may not make you blush, I truly do apologize.  Just remember that the pastor's wife said it was okay.  :)