Glorious Mundane

So, I am venturing to write again, not because I have anything profound to say tonight, but because its what I do, and I think somehow it's good for my soul.  When my heart slows down long enough to keep up with my typing fingers, those truths I once remembered, yet have forgotten to cling to lately, sort of find their way back to a place of resting in my soul.  I write to to help myself remember who God is and what He is all about, because I forget so easily.

The days have been hard recently and in some ways very dark.  We are not living in a state of crisis, but extreme weariness of the soul.  I was thinking back on different seasons of life and marveling at how so often even in the midst of crisis or suffering their was a nearness of Christ and desperation that made His supply so sweet.  Sufferings were painful, but in a bittersweet way because the beauty of Christ shone so brilliantly amongst them.  These days we are walking are different.  They are long, difficult, wearying with little variation in the scenery and no clear evidence of change up ahead.  There is an emotional exhaustion in battling for and with the little unregenerate souls given to one's care that cannot be explained.  It can suck the life out of you faster than almost anything else, and unlike a real marathon  gives you no guarantee of an end in sight.  I would gladly cheer for a mile marker sign right now regardless of what it read.  Sure the physical realities of caring for a family of almost ten are no small task, but it's the emotional and spiritual battles that driving us to our knees.

So what it is about these days that makes them so long and hard?  I think part of it is the mystery of the mundane.  Mundane.  It's what most of life is really made of.  There are huge callings.  Marriage, missions, ministry, new jobs, college, children, adoption, fostering, etc.  Yet all of those callings consist of day after day of living in the mundane.  Eating, sleeping, cleaning, shopping,  driving, emailing, learning the next small lesson, studying for the next test, changing the next diaper, wiping the next runny nose, swapping out clothes for the kids because yes they are still growing.  We don't think about all those pieces when we follow God's calling.  We obey because.....well a lot of different reasons I suppose, but I don't think any of them includes, "I just really like the mundane and this calling will have a lot of that."  But they all do!  I don't particularly like the mundane parts of life.  I want to cook a stellar meal and have all my children rave about it....not gonna happen.  I want to my kids surrender their lives to Christ, be radically transformed and begin loving one another out of hearts that have been captured by grace and just ooze it all over each other.  (Not killing each other is a success these days)  I want to impact lives and open our home as a place of rest and comfort and peace.  (Our home is anything but those adjectives).  I want to know God, enjoy His word, let my heart worship freely.  (An uninterrupted quiet time is a victory.)  So, here is the reality.  This is a crazy season and maybe my ideas of ministry, family, worship are really more about some artificial, plastic picture of what we all think we are supposed to be, rather than the gospel.  We know about the crazy awesome miracles of Christ, His suffering, death and resurrection for our redemption, but I wonder about the mundane parts of His life.  He obeyed the Father fully in all things not just the "glorious".  Before His three years of ministry, he lived a full life of full obedience very little of which is recorded for us.  What were those "less noteworthy days filled with?  When Jesus was baptized by John at the beginning of His public ministry God said of Christ, "This is my Son in Whom I am well pleased."  Jesus had not yet healed anyone, forgiven anyone, died for anyone.  He had lived in complete obedience for thirty years filled with untold mundane moments over which God smiled and was fully glorified!  Can the mundane be glorious?  I wonder if I saw it as such, how differently my heart might feel in the wiping of noses, preparing of meals and teaching of spelling.  We didn't choose to homeschool because I like long division.  We didn't choose to have lots of kids because we like to listen to complaining or enjoy cleaning up other people's messes.  We didn't choose to adopt because we like our lives to be messy and unpredictable.  We have sought to follow God because we trust his heart, and love the calling He has put on our lives which at this point includes a lot of long division, complaining, messes and unpredictability along with untold other "mundane" moments.  Lord help see with Your eyes the glorious purposes you have in the mundane.  Let me rest in Christ's full obedience and find joy in the days you have set before me.

Fog, Dark Tunnels, Tears and the Gospel

Have you ever found yourself in that place where the whole world seems lost in a fog?  That is where I have found myself of late.  Things have gotten hard around here lately.  Really hard.  Like the kind of hard where you find tears as your constant companion and the light you thought was at the end of the tunnel seems to have flickered out.  It's that place where there don't seem to be good answers to any of your questions, good solutions to any of your problems or enough of anything to give to anyone needing something from you.  It's that place where you cry out, "God, I'm in the Word, I'm begging for wisdom, I'm confessing sin, I'm acknowledging my need, I'm trying to wait patiently, but I'm drowning here.  Do you see?" 

Of course He sees and He knows and He understands and He is wise and powerful and good in all things.  So what does that say of my fog, and tears and struggle?  Are they ultimately for my joy and my good and God's glory?  Were He to lift me from the midst of the fog to the place of His vantage point wouldn't my soul rejoice in the glory of what He is doing?  Is it possible that the tears and the struggle are just a piece of sharing in the sufferings of Christ which has been granted to His children in wisdom, love, and goodness?  Might it be that the light that seems to have flickered out at the end of my tunnel is simply hidden from my sight by a bend in the tunnel I did not foresee? Could it be that the light which I seek is actually that of the risen Christ blazing in all of His glory as He intercedes on my behalf before God Himself?  Indeed, He intercedes for me as one who is able to sympathize with my weakness and has known struggle and tears.  He himself cried out, "My God why have you forsaken me?"  And that is a darkness I will never know because Christ knew it for me. 

So what do we do, when despair seems to be pounding at the door, self pity is crying in our ears,  and fear is crouching at every corner?  Preach the gospel to ourselves!  Believe what God proclaims is true regardless of how untrue it feels.  Acknowledge our deep need and wait for the Great Need-Meet-er.  So, that is where I find myself tonight.  The fog hasn't lifted, I don't see any light before me and the tears are still very much present, but I am choosing to believe what I cannot see and trust the One who carries me even when I can't feel it.  And if I am quiet the sound of despair is slowing being drowned out by the words of an old hymn...a quiet gift of mercy from the LORD. 

He Giveth  More Grace
He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength when the labors increase,
To added affliction He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied sorrows, His multiplied peace.

His love has not limit, His grace has no measure,
He power has no boundary known unto men,
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth and giveth and giveth again

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half-done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Father's full giving is only begun. 

Driven to depend?

I recently pulled out my running shoes again.  First trimester exhaustion, four bouts of sickness, navigating seven-kid-craziness, and the busyness of the holidays found my shoes at the bottom of the shoe basket.  I'm not really a runner, but I run.  I'm not fast, or particularly motivated by long distances.  I'm sure I don't even have the right gear, but I run.  I've learned that its the place my soul grows quiet, my mind fixes on truth and my heart remembers again how fragile I really am and how infinitely sufficient God really is.  Its a bit of a paradox.  About the time that my legs start to ache, my lungs begin to burn and I wonder again why I'm running in the first place is usually when the armor around my soul begins to crumble, all the defenses fall, and my heart is laid bare before the LORD.  All the fight I had beginning my day desperate to do it all well, takes to the wind like dandelion seeds at the slightest breeze.  And there I find freedom.  The truth sets us free and here is the truth: "I'm not enough.  I don't have what it takes.  I'm pretty broken.  I mess up constantly.  All my attempts to do better and try harder fall laughably short."  And there is a lot of freedom in knowing that, admitting that and reveling through anguished tears in the steadfastness of God's love for me because of the person of Christ.  It's okay.  I can admit my great need because it is not really about me.  Jesus is the Son in whom God is well pleased and I am in Him.  He declared, "It is finished," and my debt was canceled and my righteousness secured through the complete, willing obedience of Christ.  My outcome is secure though the circumstances of my life ebb and flow like the waves of the ocean threatening to drown me.  Yet, in that place of gasping for breath wondering if He actually knows what I can bear, the gospel echos deeply in my soul.  I wasn't promised a quiet home, or mild-mannered children.  He never guaranteed that I would have answers for every difficulty.  I wasn't assured comfort, ease, or a pain-free existence.  God granted me forgiveness and gave me the righteousness of Christ.  He asked me to live by faith trusting what He accomplished and He promised that He would always be enough.  And He is.  That reality alone is enough to cause to tears to flow all the harder.  To be so loved on no merit of my own!! And there in the midst of desperate dependence, raw need, overwhelming grace and love; a deep drive grows, not to do more or try harder next time, but to know Him, to remember my need and to glory in my Redeemer!  Dependence is not a natural state for most of us.  We fight hard against it and avoid it at all costs.  But the truth is we are all needy and dependence is the only thing we can really bring God anyways.  So, I am learning that I have to fight to be dependent.  There is a growing drive in my soul to press deep into dependence on Christ as uncomfortable and painful as it may be.  Dependence on Christ is freedom.  It is peace and rest and joy because it is where we stop striving to be god of our lives and rest in the God who gave us life and Himself that we might be fully satisfied in Him alone.  So, as I enter the New Year and look to the days before me, my resolve and drive are not ultimately to alter the circumstances of my life more to my liking, but to know more deeply and depend more completely on the One who sovereignly, lovingly holds all the circumstances of my life in His hands.

Hilarious

A few snapshots of hilarity from my little crazies!

Little sister popped a whole scoop of butter into her mouth off the top of her pancake during one of our first meals out thinking it was ice cream.  Kids still bring it up with peals of laughter.

One sixty degree morning newest son shivers and says, "Mom, it is going to snow today?"

After pulling the hot rollers out of my hair in the car one morning before church little sister exclaims, "Mom, you look like Barbie!"  Never heard that one before.

Headed out for a date night Second youngest asks, "Why do you have to go on dates anyways?"
Me: "Because Mommy and Daddy need time to talk and connect with each other."
He: "Well you can just talk at home."
Me: "Not really.  You see there are these seven crazy kids that love to interrupt us at home."
He:  "Well, you can just wait and talk when you are grandparents then."

Almost nine-year remarks, "I like Brandon Heath music and Mandisa." I posted his remark on Facebook along with my own comments about being old enough to have kids with their own music preferences.  I showed him the post to which he stated in no uncertain terms that he was not a Facebook guy.

Toddler coming up to the large map while Mommy was teaching history/geography pointing and babbling about various locations then looking to his older siblings for laughter, which he got heartily.  I totally lost them after that.  Who can compete with a cute toddler?

Middle kid, after waking up from anesthesia groggily comments, "Mom, they gave me a real good nap!"

Little sister on an especially cold morning, "Mom, why I am smoking?"

Big sister starts by wearing Mommy's heels around the house, before long they have all found a pair, the boys included.  Yikes!

While stopping at the grocery store with all seven just to pick up bread and apples, my almost nine year old observes, "Mom, you should see the looks people are giving us.  They're like what?!  Look at all those kids."  Oh really?  Mommy hadn't noticed.

Big sister's total fascination with squirrels.  Many school lessons have drifted into squirrel watching.  Initially I thought really?  A squirrel?  They are everywhere, but not in the Philippines I guess.  Its probably how I would react to a jungle full of monkeys.

Several of the kids have suggested that we need at least seven dogs because one dog is too hard to share between seven kids.  Are you out of your little minds?  The last thing this home needs is another six dogs terrorizing it.

Superheros and Rapunzel conquering the world in the playroom and about bringing down the ceiling I think.

Little sister can't decide which costume to wear out, so she puts on both her Snow White and Rapunzel dresses.

Many more, but its lights out for tonight.

Rest

I'm not sure if things are easier than last time, I wrote.  (See post entitled "Hard")  It's not that hard is bad, its just....well, hard.  Hard can be really good and even sweet, but not usually what we crave.  It's interesting to me how often I'll be asked after an especially hard day or week if things are going better.  I rarely know exactly how to answer.  Better?  The implication is that when things are hard, they are bad.  Sometimes that's true, but not necessarily.  I think we, in America, are obsessed with comfort and ease, myself included.  It's intoxicating, alluring, and satisfying...sort of, but not really if we are honest.  I'm not saying comfort is in and of itself wrong.  However, when any good thing becomes the "ultimate thing" then our affection for it is certainly wrong.  How prone we are do make ultimate things out of the good things God gives us!  I do it constantly, confess it and then do it again.  It might be the latest, greatest, hottest item out there or it might just be solitude, a cup of tea or a good book.  It's that place our soul craves.  It is that idea, the image, the place for which we are striving but never finding.  Don't get me wrong, I love solitude, a cup of tea and a good book, but if my days are all about finding those things, I will NEVER be content or satisfied when I find them because I will always be afraid of loosing them.  I love God's gifts, but that's all that they are.  Reflections of Him.  I believe that God is a God of comfort.  I believe that He is a God of infinite pleasures, but they are all found in Him not apart from Him.  Comfort is knowing I do not live under God's condemnation, but in the freedom of sonship.  Comfort is having an advocate and intercessor in the Son.  Comfort is knowing that these "momentary light afflictions" are nothing when compared to the "eternal weight of glory" that God is preparing for us (2 Cor. 4:17).  Comfort is being free from the slavery of trying to keep God happy with me for Christ has already accomplished that on my behalf.  Comfort is entrusting everything in my life that I cannot control to the One who controls all things.  Comfort is resting in Ultimate Wisdom, Goodness, Justice, Love and Power.  Rest...what we all crave will not find apart from Christ.

"Our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in You."  --Augustine (Confessions)

So, yes, I crave rest.  I don't especially like hard, but I realize that ease in this life is rarely the road to true rest.  So, we press on believing, often without seeing, that the rest promised us is ours indeed, even when our journey is long and the terrain is rough.  For any fellow travelers who may be weary on the way, take courage and remember the One who has called you is the One who will keep you.  And that is a truth in which to find rest.    

Hard

Hard.  Keeping a house clean with seven children under foot.  Okay actually impossible.

Hard.  Finding time to write a blog.

Hard.  Not hitting the snooze button, but crawling out of bed to get truth in front of your face, before you are bombarded by the breakfast mess, lesson plans (what plans?), chores, worries, accusations, giggles, questions, errands, chatter and fears that will hit as soon as the kids open their eyes.

Hard.  Getting back to running after a month away.  Really am I that out of shape already?  

Hard.  Watching the kids you love hurt each other in words, actions, and attitudes.

Hard.  Exposing sin in little hearts.  Navigating their defiance or despair and reminding them of their great need and an even greater Savior.

Hard.  Little hearts, till Jesus makes them soft.

Hard.  Hearing a little one cry, "I keep asking Jesus to change my heart, but its still so ugly."  Mommy's reply, "Baby, Jesus hears your prayers.  Before our hearts can be made new, we need to see how ugly they are.  God is giving you eyes to see.  You wouldn't be sad about your sin unless He was making your heart soft to the gospel.  Lets keep asking God to do His good work in your heart."

Hard.  Waiting for God to do heart work.

Hard.  Worlds colliding.

Hard.  Hearing stories of pain, loss, and fear from little ones you couldn't protect.

Hard.  He said....she said...no I didn't.....yes you did.

Hard.  Being humbled.  Finding yourself inadequate.  Recognizing your own desperate need in ways that feel raw and unmanaged.  Coming to the end of yourself and feeling like its just the end.

Hard.  Believing the gospel when your heart isn't feeling it.

Hard.  Fighting to depend on Christ's work for me rather than working to earn favor that is already mine in Christ.

Hard.  Surrender.

Hard.  Receiving rather than earning.

Hard....to understand....GRACE.

Good.  God in all of it.

Messy

Messy.  Our toddler when he came in from outside.  He had gone for a "walk" with his big brother, but I think his brother gave him a dirt bath instead.  Literally it was down his diaper, in his hair, mouth, shoes...everywhere.

Messy.  The kitchen floor after the toddler wrestled with his big brother.

Messy.  My bathtub after big brother gave our toddler a real bath following the dirt bath and wrestling.

Messy.  The stroller...I guess they must have gone for a walk after the dirt bath, but before coming in to mess up the house.

Messy.  Mealtime at my house.  Sometimes I can't watch.  ;p  Eager hands covering his plate with salad dressing.  Mountains of BBQ sauce for three bites of meat.  Cereal that literally spills over the sides of bowls.  Crumbs....everywhere.  Washing the table and sweeping the floor are the dreaded kitchen jobs at our house.

Messy.  Our 9th day of homeschooling....well every day really.  I promise, I am a fairly scheduled, schooler, rarely do little hearts and emotions fit into my schedule though.

Messy.  Relationships.  If I have done the math right there are 36 different relationships to be navigated in my home at any given time, if you don't include pets (which contribute their own set of issues, but rarely are they relational).  So, I'll let you guess how often all of those 36 relationships are sailing smoothly...um rarely might be generous.  ;)  Someone seems to always be offending or being offended or both at once.  There were so many inter-personal disputes among my children the other day that required my attention.  I was seeking to address each of their little hearts, but that takes time and energy.  So many of them needed heart-tending at once that by the time I finally got around to the last one, I had completely forgotten what I needed to address with him.  Thus came the classic line, "Do you know why you are in time out?"  Now I know why parents ask that....its because they can't remember.

Messy.  Speech in our house.  If you are a grammar person cover your ears.  We have technically 4 esl kids in our house, plus a toddler and two other boys who could really care less.  So we hear "dumping dacks" (jumping jacks).  "They is tired."  "My tooth is blood." (My tooth is bleeding.)  "Caw" for car, "bote" for bolt, "ba-wee" for very and so on.  Not to mention, lots of pointing and grunting.  Can we say, "use your words?"    

Messy.  Marriage in the midst of seven little crazies.  Yes, I over-reacted, but honestly a spat over the shoe basket near the front door....really?  Yup, it was just that kind of day....but, in front of the in-laws?  Yup!  I think they still love me, or feel really sorry for my kids (just kidding I know you love me) because they both stopped by to play with the kids and help me out the next day.  Spats or no spats, the romance will never die in this house thanks to the youngest little lady in our house (6 years).  She is obsessed with the idea of us (as in Mommy and Daddy together).  She grabs my hand, puts in Paul's and giggles, "Mommy and Daddy."  Or she greets Daddy with a hugs, drags him in the house and says, "Kiss Mommy!"  More giggles.  Yes, Little One Daddy is my prince, even if we spat over silly things from time to time.

Messy.  Little hearts that need Jesus, but don't yet see their need.  What hurtful words can be spoken, what ugly tones used.  What nasty looks can be exchanged.  All that from children who can also love so deeply, care so tenderly and forgive so quickly.  Messy indeed.

Messy.  My heart in the midst of mess.  Frustrated after a bunch of child craziness, Paul asked me what what I needed.  My reply, "for the kids to stop acting like kids."  He laughed and reminded me that that was not going to happen.  True.  So, if kids, marriage, meals, houses, homeschooling and relationships are messy, why am I always fighting the mess?  I don't know.  Maybe we weren't really created for mess, and crave to be free from it, yet fight the fact that the only freedom from it is Jesus in the midst of it.

Messy.  The gospel.  Christ's suffering for my joy.  Christ's condemnation for my pardon. Justification: bloody, painful, divine.  Sanctification: daily, painful, deep.  Jesus didn't come to clean up the neat and tidy, He came to rescue, redeem, and purchase the messy, the dead, the needy.

Messy.  The place the gospel dwells which is good news indeed for my family and all of our mess.