Do You Have Clothes?

A young woman discovers she is pregnant. Her father is a pastor, her mother is a Bible teacher, and this young woman is unmarried. Be sure your sin will find you out. (Numbers 32:23) Her parents were so well-respected. Her church was solid, Bible-observing. She held so much promise. And do you know what? All of those things are still true. Reason being, this young woman sought the forgiveness and help of her parents and her King. As I listened to her story, I couldn't help but contrast it with my own. The abridged version goes like this: I was a coward, of little to no good character; but this young lady... Beautiful! What was even more beautiful was her father's response: 

How are your clothes fitting? Do you have clothes?

This young mother, courageous as she was, fully anticipating her father to lose his mind with anger, didn't expect that response. If there'd been a garden and a tree, one might have expected her to take to hiding. But her father sought to clothe her. Not to cover-up her offense, and not in shame or embarrassment; but in mercy. Her sin had been exposed; she chose to further expose herself; and now, her father sought to provide what was necessary for her to go on. Confession. Covering. Love. And, as a result, respect for her parents, obedience of her church family, and the promise of a life that honors God remain wholly intact. 

It reminds me of another event. One that, like mine, did not include transparency or confession. But God, in His infinite mercy, clothed His children anyway. (Genesis 3) Not to hide what they had done or erase the consequences, not from His embarrassment or shame. He offered them the free gift of His compassion and protection against the evil their sin had awakened in our world. The knowledge of good and evil as they now knew it was more than they had been created to bear; God provided a barrier against its effects on them. But clothing was only part of the solution: to restore the relationship with their Creator was going to take more than a couple of tunics. It was, however, a beginning; God extending His mercy and kindness toward offenders. Romans 2:4 assures us, it is God's goodness that leads us to repentance. John 3:16 says God gave His only Son. Ephesians 2:8, 9 say it is God's free gift to us. God's own words tell us it is His desire that none should perish. However, none of this means it is without obligation on our part. He instructs all to come before Him, confessing our sin, and turning from it to live in a way that brings Him honor and glory. God has indeed made a way whereby we can come to Him: that Way is the life and the death of His Son, Jesus Christ on the cross. Through His substitutionary atonement, the penalty for our sins is paid in full. Through His resurrection, we are raised to an eternal life; one that is not only eternal in length, but in quality. We are given all that is necessary to do our part; to ask His forgiveness, repent from our sin; to imitate Jesus Christ, be holy as He is holy. It merely begins with a new wardrobe.

Midweek: School Is in Session

I am a lifelong learner. I give tons of credit to my early elementary teachers who made their classrooms a safe place, a place of wonder and discovery. I'd like to think my love for learning has been passed on to some of our children. One is enrolled in college courses despite having multiple children at home. One devours all genres of reading and digital material. And our youngest absolutely loves school! FULL DISCLOSURE: It's the structure he loves. But when not in the classroom, when walking about town doing errands or taking a detour through the park, he is as attentive to my teaching and as inquisitive as any child could be. And, as a former homeschooler, I try to teach as we go.

Deuteronomy 6:6-9 is one of my favorite passages of Scripture:

And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Can you see it? Can you picture, quietly walking along, maybe dismantling a stick or piece of grass, talking with your child about Noah's obedience or Paul's tenacity in serving the Lord? This is what we as parents are to do. We are to take every opportunity to teach our children about the God we serve SO THAT they might be enticed to serve Him as well. We are to be living examples and use the examples we encounter as we live. We are to talk to our children about our failures and God's mercy. We must demonstrate mercy toward them when they fail. We are to direct their eyes to the One who really fed them that day. We are to stir in them a love for serving the Lord in the same way my teachers stirred in me a love for learning. Our home should be a safe place, not marked by judgment or hypocrisy. Our home should be a place in which we are always wondering at the goodness and power of God; where we are daily studying to discover more about Him and are filled with a joyful preparedness to discover where He is directing our steps. If Scripture is ours, personal and integrated, it will be to us as natural to share as our family history or the cherished tales of fun-filled family vacations. If our homes are bathed in the promises of God and all who enter are greeted with His image in the faces and lives of its inhabitants, our children will do more than learn. They will want to learn. And they will return to that learning even if they stray. 

Teaching our children --and that goes for our adult children as well --teaching our children is the responsibility of each and every parent, a personal responsibility. It's not on the Sunday school teacher. It's not on the leader at Explorer Girls or Vacation Bible School. We, we parents are to teach them. And it is never "too late." I wish I had the time back. I wish I'd not failed my children so many times. But I have been given today and, as far as I know, tomorrow. The opportunities still exist, and it's on me to seize them, to encourage my children and grandchildren to be lifelong learners in the School of Discipleship for Jesus Christ. 

 

Across the Lake

That evening, Jesus said to his followers, “Let’s go across the lake.”
~ Mark 4:35 NCV

I watched as our youngest began pursuing the dog for the second time that morning. He'd been up less than ten minutes, and he was already looking to get into something. This time I corrected him, and he, of course, denied it. I sighed. What is it this time? I wondered. The reality is, it doesn't have to be anything, really. He has no idea what today will be like, it hasn't even started, and that's what terrifies him. And that's when I really saw myself in him. I've known all along, we're not very different, he and I, but seeing him actively working to "burn it down" made me realize what drives much of my bad behavior. Fear of the unknown. That old expression, Better the devil you know than the devil you may meet, has been something of a way of life for me. If I burn this relationship down now, if I ruin my day from the start, if I destroy my diet before breakfast... I never have to wonder how things will turn out. Will he cheat on me? Will the day end with me wishing I'd never been born? Will I eat half a box of Oreos? Done! Problem solved. Question answered. But... What if we fell in love? What if it was the best day ever? What if I felt great and slept more soundly? Is having the answers to everything worth the price of never watching the unknown gently, surprisingly reveal itself? Is knowing what will be as life-giving as discovering the possibilities? Is writing my own ending better than what is meant to be? I have, in far too many ways, opted for answers. Answers provide control. If I know what's up ahead, I can perhaps, take the detour I might choose. If I know things won't work out, I can refuse to try. If I know what lies inside all of those papered and ribboned boxes under the tree, I can prepare for disappointment and summon some fake joy. 

And yet, I've lived a good life, a happy life --I am O!K! That is, until I really start to examine what this means in terms of my faith. The morning I watched our son, God made it clear to me. I've left it no secret that I've battled addiction. My addiction has manifested itself in substance abuse and other compulsive behaviors, but the root issue itself is avoidance. I'm introverted, for sure, but I don't suffer from panic attacks or sweaty palms when I am in the presence of others; I simply don't want to be. When I am in my feels, I don't want to deal with voices or text messages or other people's problems or making breakfast for someone or traffic or even the effort it takes me to speak. In the words of a certain fictional ballerina, I want to be alone. When I'm overwhelmed, when I'm afraid, when I simply don't know, my go-to is avoidance. It would make sense to use my big words and ask for a few minutes (which, if I'm being honest, when I am not held to account, those few minutes could become months); or I could take a deep breath and whisper a prayer. Instead, I avoid; I hide behind a litany of excuses and invented obligations. Oh, I'd love to, but... And when avoidance is not an option, I burn the moment, the day, an entire relationship to the ground. Or, at least, I did.

I have found other ways to cope --not all beneficial. I eat. I scroll. I pace. I exercise --a lot! Do something creative! we encourage our youngest. Great advice; if only I followed it myself. Let's go for a walk! Let's play a boardgame! Helping him redirect his energy should help me develop the habit of redirecting my own. Do you need a hug? How about if I pray with you? Refusing to allow his fears to stir up my own, then squashing them all at once. It's a work in progress. And we are here to live. Jesus died that we might have eternal life; not a perfect existence or days filled with bliss or all of the answers. Part of life --at least on this side of heaven --is facing the unknown day after day, not having all the answers, but knowing we have been invited to cross the lake. And God, in His infinite mercy, assures us we are not alone, that He is with us and His Spirit dwells within those who plead the blood of Jesus. Life with Him is all about stepping into the boat and, maybe, sailing through a storm or two. It may not be easy, it may not be the path we would choose; it may make our flesh recoil and our minds swirl, but we'll never know what might have been --we cannot know what God will do on the other side, if we've used our vessel for kindling.