Awash in Defeat, Washed Over with Grace

Posted on January 30, 2017 by spottingtreasure

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It was a moment of total defeat.

I had just walked into my son’s room to say goodnight.  As we usually do, we started to debrief the day. He admitted to having a hard time with jealousy. Someone he knew had received an unexpected gift of something my son wanted. He was jealous.

I usually love moments like these, when one or the other of my sons pours his heart out to me and I help him navigate the hard moments in life. The Bible falls open to a familiar verse; I know how to direct our prayers. Teachable moments that open my boys’ hearts to God’s love and wisdom for living…those are the moments I live for.

But that night, the wrong switch flipped for me. This did not feel like a teachable moment.

As he shared his heart, I could not get out of my mind that the person in question, who had received this most coveted gift, was someone of humble circumstance – someone who watches every penny and worries about covering the most basic of needs. This was the person of whom he was jealous. How ugly that looked to me…and my heart rejected the moment.

I didn’t use it to teach. Instead, I laid a big, fat guilt trip on the boy.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry that I raised such a greedy, selfish, entitled boy. I have failed you by raising you to begrudge someone who has so much less than you the joy of an unexpected gift.  I clearly have not done my job. Good night.” I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

I was killing it as a mother. Killing it. Such great work. Truly excellent.

On to the next room.

I opened the door to my other son’s room and walked right into a wall of anger.

“Get out,” he said.

“GET OUT!”

What?

You have got to be kidding me.

I don’t even remember what I said to that child, but I do remember showing him that my face can turn ever-deepening shades of purple and my voice can drop three octaves without warning.

I walked out of that room and closed the door. Then I stood frozen in the hallway as I ran through what seemed to be the sum total of my life’s work. I had a big old hairy green-eyed monster in one room, a rude, obnoxious, disrespectful, angry young man in the other, and I was raising them both.

Killing it.

Fantastic.

I cannot describe the true weight of my sadness as I stood there. I was just so sad. To have known them when they were little cherubs – such little bundles of potential, and then to see, in the span of just three minutes, the black stains of ugliness splotched across their pre-teen hearts. I was just so sad.

And then I was angry.

I quit my job for this? I walked away from a career? How naive was I to think I could devote my time to raising children, and instill in them a love for God and a love for others? What made me think I could raise children with any depth of character? What made me think I could do this? What a waste.

And that’s when I was completely washed over by a wave of total defeat.

I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen, contemplating the state of things in my house, which I’d always hoped would be a refuge, but instead seemed that night to be a viper’s nest. But as I did, my own heart began to soften.

I can’t do this.

I can’t do this.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

As I exhaled, I was completely washed over by a wave of God’s grace and my thinking changed.

And that’s okay.

Because I’m not supposed to.

Yes, I am to care for them. Yes, I am to teach them. Yes, I am to give them every opportunity to grow in their love for God and their love for others.

But the deep work of the heart? The inner transformation of their souls? That’s not my job. That’s all God. He will do it in his own way, in his own timing, according to his good purpose. He will never give up in defeat and he welcomes the cries of an honest heart, with all the ugliness they reveal.

The Psalms of David teach us that. They also teach us that moments of total defeat can be moments of great blessing. Those are the moments when we might finally stop exhausting ourselves, confined by the limits of our own power, and reach out for God’s hand:

Psalm 13

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.

In my moment in that hallway, standing in the quiet, I was reminded to trust in God’s unfailing love for my children. And then I was compelled to pray for them…not a quick, “make everything better in this moment” prayer. I was reminded to be on my knees, praying fitful prayers on behalf of my children, every day.

I had come to my own teachable moment.

Then I walked back into their rooms, ready to help them through theirs.

I don’t know if or how you’re feeling defeated. I don’t know how hard you’re striving or feeling as if you keep falling short. I just want you to encourage you in this:

When you don’t where to turn, remember:

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. (Psalm 46:1, NIV)

When you’re exhausted and tired of striving, hear God’s voice:

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10, NIV)

When you’re tempted to think that all the work of developing and changing yourself or others belongs to you, remember these words from the apostle Paul to the church he started in Philippi:

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:3-6, NIV)

We have a part to play in this life. But the hardest work, the work that leads to true transformation of the heart, mind, and soul is done by God – in his grace and through his power. If you’re struggling with this right now, take a moment to be still. Listen to one of my favorite songs by Casting Crowns:

If you ever want to know how to discover God’s grace or how to live in his power, let me know. I’d love to introduce you to God, as you’ve never known him before.

And in case you’re wondering, after I’d had my teachable moment and went in to spend time with my boys as they worked through theirs, I found out that both of them had had really hard days, which caused them, each in their own way, to lash out at life and at me. Their defeats from the day poured out of them, bringing me to my own. How often does that happen with the people we interact with every day?

All the messiness that night was ultimately covered by God’s grace. Grace in the hard things. Grace in defeat. Grace that washed over us, as individuals and as a family, once we stood still long enough to let it.

 

 

 

 

 

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Someone Else’s Shadow

Posted on January 11, 2017 by spottingtreasure

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The piano has always been played in my home. My mother plays the piano. I play the piano. As long as I’ve been alive, piano music has been heard in my house. So, to me, it was a natural belief that my children would play the piano. Why wouldn’t they?

My older son took to the piano right away, just as he was expected to do. And he’s pretty good. He plays at home, and he plays in two jazz bands at school. He was one of just a small handful of sixth graders to make it into the big band at his middle school. He made the cut on both his trumpet and piano, but his bread and butter? The instrument that got him in? Most likely, the piano.

My younger son is also musical. He has always loved to sing. So I thought the piano would be perfect for him – a great instrument to support his singing.

He hates it.

For three years, he has been taking piano lessons and hating every minute of them. My mother had the same experience with my brother. But after 6 months, when my brother still could not identify middle C, she gave up.

I would not give up.

In weeks when I made the time to sit next to my child for every painful note of practice, he would make it to his lesson reasonably prepared, both of us bearing the scars of the week. In weeks when I just did not have that extra ounce of energy to fight, he showed up at his lesson woefully unprepared. The teacher would give us a speech about the importance of practice. I would hang my head in shame. The boy didn’t care.

“I HATE piano.”

“Why?”

“It’s stupid.”

On to the next week.

This year, the boy is in 4th grade and is in band for the first time, under a teacher who has a way of getting kids really excited about music. The school has fourth and fifth grade bands, but it also has a blues band, which is by invite only. As soon as the teacher thinks a student is proficient enough on his or her instrument, he invites the student into the blues band. When my older son was in fourth grade, he was one of the first fourth graders to be invited into blues band, just after Christmas. He quickly became his music teacher’s “go to” guy on trumpet and…piano.

So imagine my surprise, when my younger son came home more than a month before Christmas this year, with the exciting news that he had been invited into the blues band. He was bursting with pride. I was totally flummoxed.

“Really? In October? You’ve only been in band for a month. You’ve been invited into blues band? On what instrument?”

“Vocals,” he grinned, “My teacher wants me to sing.”

I sat down to write a note to the teacher that night:

“Thank you, Mr. C, for this opportunity for my little guy. You just have no idea what it means to him…the younger brother who until now has been all too accustomed to walking in his older brother’s shadow.”

Here’s what Mr. C wrote back:

“Hi Rachel, your younger son has a very different skill set from his brother. There is no need for him to walk in anybody’s shadow.”

I was chastened.

That statement hit me hard. It hit me so hard because with two simple sentences, Mr. C made me face my assumption that because he is younger and because he does not excel in the same areas in which his older brother excels, my younger son is destined to always be walking in his brother’s shadow. This teacher, after one month with my son, saw something that I, his mother, could not see.

I asked my son, later on, if he feels like he walks in his brother’s shadow. He said, “No. Why would I feel like that? But you know what does annoy me? That I never get to do anything first. He gets all the ‘firsts.’”

That insight also hit me hard. The only reason my son would feel like his older brother gets all the “firsts,” is because I make him do all the things his brother does. I’m the one placing my younger son in his older brother’s shadow.

A few days later, I walked by the music room. My older son was on the piano, playing a piece he had written for the jazz band. My younger son was on the drum set, playing the drum part perfectly. My blind eyes were finally opened to see. That boy never voluntarily touches the piano, but he’s always on the drums.

I could not believe that I was hearing myself say this, but I asked, “Hey buddy…instead of piano lessons, would you rather take lessons on drums?”

“I would love that.”

Drum lessons for my little guy. When I finally get them organized, they will be his first “first.”

That small interaction between my son, his teacher, and me taught me a parenting lesson. But it also opened my eyes to the encouragement we sometimes need as adults, even in church. Because I bet there are times when, spiritually, we find ourselves feeling like we’re walking in someone else’s shadow.

We see people involved in outreach and think, “I could never do that.” Or we hear the heartfelt prayers of someone who seems to be always on her knees and wonder if we’ll ever be able to pray like that. Maybe someone sitting in the pew next to us seems so “spiritual” or someone else always seems to know the Bible so well, much more than we do. It can be intimidating. So rather than jump into the life of the church, we hold back. So many other people seem to have all the knowledge and all the insight and all the talent. What could we possibly have to offer that they don’t already have?

There is a learning process to faith. Knowledge comes with time and study. It is true that in some areas of life, my older son will be ahead of his younger brother for a long time. His sixth grade math is more advanced than his younger brother’s fourth grade math. That’s just how the learning process goes. In the same way, maturity in our faith is a process, and some people are further down the road than others simply because they started earlier or have devoted more time to it.

But we all also have our own unique skill sets, given to us by God. Just like my older son is a pianist and my younger son is a singer, the person next to you at church may have a special connection with children, but you may have that special touch with people walking through grief. Or someone else might be great at coming up with ideas for programs, but you might be especially good at running them. The learning and maturing process in our faith takes time, but right now, even today, something in the way God made you sets you apart as his unique creation with a unique purpose in his family. Imagine him saying to you, “You have a very different skill set than the person sitting next to you. You don’t have to walk in anyone’s shadow.”

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. (1 Corinthians 12:4-6, NIV)

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity. (1 Timothy 4:12, NIV)

Whether you are young in years, or young in your faith, you have been uniquely gifted by God. It’s not what you know, but how you live…serving God in the way that he has uniquely gifted you to serve, setting an example for all. You, even you, can be a shining example of God’s love…a light that dispels any hint of a shadow. Is it time to stop living in one?

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Few Things Are Needed

Posted on December 20, 2016 by spottingtreasure

cookies

The two cartons of store bought Christmas cookies mocked me from the counter and I didn’t care.

They mocked me because, other than the odd package of Oreos I keep on hand for friends with nut allergies, I don’t buy store bought cookies. Ever.

I always bake. Always.

Trust me when I tell you that I’m no gourmet pastry chef. My husband once picked up a chocolate cake round I was planning to add to a German layer cake for his birthday and used it as a Frisbee. I’m not quite sure what I missed in the recipe, but edible, it was not.

I bake and cook from scratch because it’s part of my love language. It’s as simple as that. So even if it’s for an event I’m not attending for people I don’t know, I always feel compelled to bake. No store bought cookies shall pass from this house. Ever. That was my unspoken mantra.

Until three weeks ago.

I picked my son up from school, and instead of turning left out of the parking lot that day, I turned right.

“Where are we going, Mom?”

“To the grocery store.”

“Why?” He was slightly irritated that I was running an errand and dragging him around during those precious after school hours.

“To buy cookies for your scout event this weekend.”

It was such a freeing thing to say. And then it was such a freeing thing to do. And then, as they sat stacked on the kitchen counter, it was so freeing to look at them and think, “This is what I’m capable of doing this week. And I’m totally fine with it.”

I had to be pushed to the brink to come to that point. Thanksgiving weekend had just passed and we had barely recovered from that. The very next Saturday I was committed to speaking at a Christmas event at a local church. My boys both had basketball games on the same day and my older boy was working at a community shopping event for little kids, run by the boy scouts that morning. All scout families had been called upon to donate three dozen cookies for the event. Of course, as luck would have it, our schools close on the Monday after Thanksgiving  (what’s that all about?).  So that was one day of the hectic week already gone. If you’re wondering why we didn’t take that day to bake the cookies together, don’t even go there. That day ended up being a blur that I have blocked from my mind. Add to that all the regular, routine activities of a busy family with tweens, and I was feeling pressed to the wall. What almost put me right over the edge was the fact that my parents were expected to arrive back from Florida that Friday, around 4. I always cook for them on the day of their arrival. Always.

Friday morning, I put the finishing touches on my talk for Saturday, then looked around my house and realized that I two options. I had enough time to either tidy up the very lived-in house or to cook a homemade meal for my parents. I could not do both. I’m not a fan of “either”/“ors”. I always want to fit in both. But as my parents drove north on I-95 that day, I knew that I had to pick the “either” or the “or.” My back was up against the wall. So I texted my mom:

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Then I picked the “either.” And it was so freeing.

That evening, as we sat down to a delicious meal that I did not cook, in a house that was tidy enough to calm my mind, with candles flickering in low light and a stack of three dozen store bought cookies on the kitchen counter ready for the next day, I listened to the excited chatter between my parents and their grandsons, and relaxed. This is what life is supposed to be about.

Then I thought of Mary of Mary and Martha fame. She knew a thing or two. Here is the familiar story, as recorded in Luke 10:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42, NIV)

In our activity driven, perfectionist culture, we often read this passage and run to Martha’s defense. What’s wrong with tending to the preparations? Why was Mary’s way so much better?

For me, this Christmas, I’m focusing on what Jesus said in verse 42. “Few things are needed – or indeed only one.” There are so many things we could do. I know that I lose sight of what it is I really need to do. Stripping out what could be done to do the things that need to be done is so freeing…and paves the way to relationships…because it leaves time and space for relationships. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it many times again. In all the hundreds of pages compiled into the Bible, the central message is always about relationships – our relationships with God and our relationships with each other.

So yesterday, I decided that I was going to spend the entire day being a Mary. I was going to read and write and pray. I was going to spend a quiet day at home, preparing my heart and mind for this final week of celebrating Christ’s birth and getting ready to spend time with out of town family. Then I realized that we were completely out of toilet paper. And I decided that in that circumstance, it would probably be more appropriate to be a Martha. Sometimes, we really do need to be a Martha. So I went out to be a Martha, guilt free.

But this morning…this morning I am setting aside time to be a Mary.

It doesn’t have to be a whole day or a whole morning. We don’t have to set aside huge swaths of time to be like Mary. We just need to be willing to cut out what we could do but don’t need to do. We need to make either/or choices when doing so will free up the time to spend with God and family and friends we care about most. And we can choose to be like Mary in our hearts even when we’re busy being like Martha with our hands. We can drive and sing. We can shop and pray. We can walk into a hectic store and smile at a harried shopper or say a kind word to the weary clerk. Even in the small things, we can make the relational choice. That relational choice, according to Jesus, is always the better way.

As Christmas Eve approaches, are you in a relational or a task driven mindset?  Which sister are you feeling like today and where can you choose the “either” over the “or” and the “need to do” over the “could do?” It’s not too late to choose differently…to choose the better way, and invest in the relationships you most want to endure long after the activity of this holiday season has passed.  How might you free up time for that today?

Maybe you’re feeling like it’s time you spent some time at the feet of Jesus, whose birth we will celebrate in just a few days. You’re wondering who he is, really, and how you can come to know him more. Feel free to contact me here, or consider finding a Christmas Eve service in your town. If you are local, you are more than welcome to come to a service at Faith Community Church of Hopkinton, which has a crazy number of services from which to choose this Christmas!

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