Filthy Rich

When my husband first met my mom, she asked him what he wanted to do with his life. He told her he planned to be filthy rich. (The things a guy will say to win a girl!) So with promises of riches we started our journey of married bliss. But one thing I wonder. Where did the riches go? I have a sneaking suspicion we may have missed the mark. We have all heard the "redneck" jokes. I think I could make my own version from personal experience.

You may not be filthy rich if...

... the thrift store rejects the donation you brought, and had been using, because "no one would want that."

... the man behind you in the grocery store check-out line offers to buy your $2.00 sausages.

... an elderly lady at church tells you she heard of a place giving away free clothing and couldn't think of anyone who could use that, except your family.

... a stranger stops you in the parking lot to give you the name and number of his friend, who happens to have a van that she wants to send to the junkyard, even though "it's nicer than yours."

Before we were married, my husband's sister asked me if I chose Eric for his personality or his looks. I thought this was a silly question because to marry someone for his looks is about as futile as marrying someone for his money. Oh, who am I kidding, I married him for his money, but I'll keep him for his looks. :)

Eternal Rest

Just thinking about rest again this morning. Israel was delivered by God's mighty hand from the slavery of the Egyptians. Then they began their journeys in the wilderness, all the time seeking that promised land from God. Many did not enter the promised land because of their unbelief, but those that remained were led by Joshua into the promised land. The promised land was God's rest for them.
But God says there is still a rest waiting for God's people. Isn't Canaan, the promised land, a picture of Heaven, our promised land? Perhaps we are wandering in the wilderness now. Maybe it feels a little like we are being bit by fiery serpents, or traveling in circles with no purpose, or maybe just extremely tired and weary. But there is a rest waiting for us. That rest is eternal freedom. That rest is eternal joy. That rest is a rest from trial, from tears, from separation, from sin. We toil now, but one day we will be forever with our Lord in our promised land. Let us not fail to enter this rest because of our unbelief. Let us thank God for our eternal rest.

Day of Rest

This past Saturday my husband took the three older boys for the day while I stayed home with Caden, the youngest. I did some straightening around the house, spent some time with my sister and steam-cleaned the carpets, which desperately needed to be done. Eric jokes that I just don't know how to sit. The next morning at church someone asked how I enjoyed my day of rest, referring to my Saturday with most of the family gone. I was a little confused at first because I had worked hard that Saturday, but also because I realized I really do consider Sunday my day of rest. I wasn't sure how to answer because my day of rest was just starting.
I haven't mastered getting all the kids fed, clean and ready for church in a restful manner, but that is a small portion of the day. I quickly forget the rush as I sit among friends at church. We drop our children off at their classes and then go to our class. I enjoy the class so much -- talking with friends, or just listening, sharpening our minds and lives. Often during the morning service I feel like I spend more time instructing my children than listening, but over all it is still restful. After all I do get to sit, and my husband is usually with me. On Sundays I get Eric all day long. Every other day there are responsibilities that keep us going, often in different directions, but on Sunday we never feel like we should be working. On Sunday we can be together. On Sunday we are both there all day to help with the kids. Although on Sundays, even with the children I get a break because we drop all their scheduled responsibilities they worked on during the week. It can be very tiring pushing new skills and truths into their minds. On Sunday we rest from their Scripture memorization, catechism, math facts, reading, and any other chores except what is necessary.
We are in the process of remodeling our basement, but on Sundays the mess and projects can wait. Sundays are freedom. The tasks before us may try to enslave us, but on Sunday the victory is ours.
After church we go to my mom's house for lunch. I truly enjoy a break from cooking. Helping prepare food and even cleaning up in someone else's kitchen just seems so much better for some reason. My sister and brother-in-law are there too. We talk and eat and relax.
After we've eaten and visited for awhile, we all lay down to nap or read or do something quietly. This is one of my favorite parts of the day. I tend to feel a little guilty if I nap on a week day, and it rarely happens. But on Sunday we nap every week. It is so refreshing. We usually nap in my mom's air-conditioned basement. It is so cool and dark and peaceful.
After the evening service, there is just about the right amount of time to feed the boys some leftovers and put them to bed. Then Eric and I enjoy the last of our day of rest together before another hectic work week starts.
Just writing this makes me eager for Sunday to come again. I love our day of rest.

Lifeguard

Today my husband saved our lives. Of course it's hard to know what the outcome would have been since he intervened before we actually died. We were swimming in my uncle's pond. My son, Micah, was swimming beside me holding onto a floatation device. When we got near the center and were starting back the twenty feet to shore, he began to panic and let go of his floatation device and grabbed me instead.
I couldn't hold both him and me up and I went under the water. I came to the surface after much groping and kicking. It felt like my one chance for rescue. I called out for Eric and went under again.
It feels like forever when you are under the water and you look up and you see the light but cannot seem to get to it. I remember coming up at one point and gasping for air before I went under again and I remember at some point seeing Eric near us swimming in the water. He held on to Micah, but he couldn't get him to let go of me. Desperately I cried out, "Hit him. Hit him." I had heard that sometimes you need to disable a person somewhat so that you can save them. It's like Micah possessed some kind of crazed animal strength.
Now with two panicked people, Eric began to wonder if three of us would eventually be pulled under. But somehow he was able to release me from Micah's grasp allowing me to swim to safety and then he brought Micah to the shore.
Eric had jumped in wearing his pants and T-shirt and now stood on the shore dripping wet. He is our hero. I wondered later, if Eric were gone and unable to save us, if we would eventually all come to some tragic end.

Valuable Life

We have very recently begun reading through Humility: True Greatness by C.J. Mahaney at our church. Although the book has been insightful and I am looking forward to reading more, it was a line from the forward that really stood out to me.
Joshua Harris, author of the forward, tells how C.J. Mahaney, trained and mentored him as a young man and then passed on his pastorate to him. He is using this as an example of humility in Mahaney's life -- to see someone that God can use and invest in that life and instead of claiming glory for yourself, prepare that person for ministry -- even your own ministry. Harris goes on to say that this example of humility shown to him has inspired him to also invest in the life of another.
He writes,

Though I've just begun my ministry at Covenant Life, C.J.'s example has inspired me to look ahead to when I can make the same handoff to the next leader of our church. Who knows? That ten-year-old boy running down the church hallway might one day be sitting behind my desk. And when that day comes, I hope I'll have the same humility of heart that C.J. has shown me.

I love how he looks at a young child as the possible future leader of a church. I love to know that there are men in the world that see potential in young boys, that see a life that God can use, that see more than noise and dirt.
Obviously not all boys will grow up to be pastors, but each boy can grow up to be a leader in righteousness, a leader in humility, a leader in love. We are shaping the minds and hearts of a generation.

Blogging

I saw this on a friend's facebook status.

"Blogging -- Never have so many had so little to say to so few."

I think it might be true.

Whose Pain is Worse?

A Grace Disguised by Gerald L. Sittser was a book that was recommended to us shortly after our son died. Honestly I have not yet finished reading it because I kept wanting to journal my thoughts as I went through the book. So, it waits patiently in my nightstand. But I have been influenced by his wisdom and since I cannot write better, I will now quote from Gerald Sittser.
"We tend to quantify and compare suffering and loss. We talk about numbers killed, the length of time spent in the hospital, the severity of abuse, the degree of family dysfunction, the difficulty and inconvenience of illness, the complexity of details during a divorce…."
And we could add so many more qualifiers. Our minds seem to have no trouble comparing and sizing up one thing against another.
Sittser continues,

But I question whether experiences of such severe loss can be quantified and compared…What makes each loss so catastrophic is its devastating, cumulative, and irreversible nature…I talked with a woman whose husband was recently killed in a plane crash. I heard about three women who are battling breast cancer. I met with a couple whose daughter was the survivor of an automobile accident that took the life of a passenger. I heard about a man who has struggled with unemployment or professional frustration for many years now. I learned of a couple who have exhausted every medical option in their battle against infertility. I know of a man whose business is on the brink of bankruptcy…Everywhere there is pain, human misery, and tragedy.

Now I sit here crying over pain that I just read about in a book. I have been told that the more pain you endure the less tears you shed, the more devastating the pain has to be to affect you. I disagree. I feel like the more pain I experience the more emotional I become. These stories touch my heart. I relate to their pain. It hurts to be betrayed. It hurts to have your dreams die. It hurts to lose something you love. It hurts to watch your life as you pictured it slowly, or rapidly, crumble around you. It hurts to feel that you cannot succeed and every turn leads to more failure. Everywhere there is pain.
Sittser writes,

[Comparing loss] can lead to two unhealthy extremes. On the one hand, those coming out on the losing end of the comparison are deprived of the validation they need to identify and experience the loss for the bad thing it is… Their loss is dismissed as unworthy of attention and recognition. On the other hand, those coming out on the winning end convince themselves that no one has suffered as much as they have, that no one will ever understand… that no one can offer lasting help. .. So they indulge themselves with their pain and gain a strange kind of pleasure in their misery.
Each experience of loss is unique, each painful in its own way…The right question to ask is not, “Whose is worse?” It is to ask, “What meaning can be gained from suffering, and how can we grow through suffering?

Truly our Lord Jesus spoke truth when He said, “In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”
I do not want to be known by the pain I’ve experienced. I do not want to wear it as a badge or medal won. How have I grown? How has Jesus overcome the world through me, through this trial?
I am reminded of a quote by Paul David Tripp in his book Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands,

God wants to raise up people filled with hope. True hope is not rooted in my achievements or assets, but in my knowledge that I am the child of the King. He loves me with a love that nothing can take away. He has given me his forgiving and empowering grace. He is daily changing and maturing me. He has promised to give me whatever I need to face what comes my way. And he has promised that I will live with him forever in a place without suffering, sorrow, or sin.. This means that in the most difficult moments of my life… what I really live for is safe and secure.

That is overcoming. I want to be a person of hope and comfort to others as we journey through this pain-filled world on our way to eternal glory.