Luke's Other Posts of Note

I think at Christmas time it’s appropriate to ask who Jesus is since the day set aside to commemorate His birth has become such a big deal.

Some undoubtedly don’t think past the manger scene. To them Jesus was, is, and always will be that infant wrapped up and lying amid a bunch of animals. The thing is, the baby didn’t stay in the manger any more than the man stayed on the cross or the resurrected Christ stayed in the tomb.

Others have re-imaged Jesus to be a good teacher. Sort of a Hebrew Gandhi, I think, one of the gurus who gave us quotables and an example to follow. This view is similar to the one held by a certain rich member of the Jewish ruling class who sought Jesus out.

In his exchange with Jesus, the young guy addressed Him as “good teacher.” In Jesus’s response, He separated Himself from all other teachers or examples. It defines who He is: “Why do you call Me good? No one is good except God alone.”

The young ruler immediately dropped the “good.”

Quite apparently he did not think Jesus was God. Otherwise he might have answered something like, “I understand completely that no one is good except God alone. Good teacher, what must I do to be saved?”

Instead he said, “Teacher, I have kept all these things [the Law] from my youth up.” In other words, he did not acknowledge Jesus as God. In addition, he did not acknowledge his need. I’m not sure what he expected … an “atta boy,” maybe, a “keep on keeping on.” I don’t know.

In so many ways that Jewish law-keeper is like people today who identify with Jesus but who don’t realize He is God. Some have “re-imaged” him, describing all the things he did and said that fit in with 21st century sensibilities of love and brotherhood and tolerance.

What they do not look at or acknowledge are the “God things” Jesus did and said. And here I’m not referring to the many kind and seemingly miraculous interventions Christians experience today. (A good number of people have come to call such occurrences, “God things.”)

I’m actually thinking of something quite different. I’m thinking of the things Jesus said that ticked off the Jewish establishment. The things He did that made them ask, Who does he think he is?

Things like healing a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath, or telling the paralytic his sins were forgiven, then to pick up his bed and walk–also on the Sabbath. Or how about the time when His disciples picked grain on the Sabbath because they were hungry. When the Pharisees confronted Jesus, He gave them a Bible lesson, ending with this:

“Or have you not read in the Law, that on the Sabbath the priests in the temple break the Sabbath and are innocent? But I say to you that something greater than the temple is here. But if you had known what this means, ‘I desire compassion, and not a sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.”
- Matt 12:5-8 (emphasis is mine)

The big one that got the Jews worked up, of course, was His God claims. John records one of these:

“I and the Father are one.” The Jews picked up stones again to stone Him. Jesus answered them, “I showed you many good works from the Father; for which of them are you stoning Me?” The Jews answered Him, “For a good work we do not stone You, but for blasphemy; and because You, being a man, make Yourself out to be God.”
- John 10:30-33

Then, too, they didn’t like it much when He told them that they were of their father the devil. In that conversation, Jesus ended with another statement identifying Himself as God, and sure enough, they tried to kill Him on the spot.

Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was born, I am.” Therefore they picked up stones to throw at Him, but Jesus hid Himself and went out of the temple.
- John 8:58-59

I don’t know how people today who imagine this metro-sexual Jesus with the cool sandals and trendy long hair have missed the controversy the real Jesus brought. To His family. To the Jewish people. To the world.

He said there will be a day of sorting–sheep on one side, goats on the other. He said there is a narrow road leading to life and a wide road heading to destruction. He said guests at the bridegroom’s feast will be turned away if they’re not wearing the proper wedding garments.

And in the end, He said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.” That’s who Jesus is.

A version of this article originally appeared here at A Christian Worldview of Fiction December 22, 2010.

On December 8, Catholics celebrate The Immaculate Conception. I wrote this post last year and thought it might be helpful to repost it this year. xo. EE.

Virgin of the Immaculate Conception by Pierre Puget

When I was a Protestant and heard Catholics talking about the “Immaculate Conception,” I assumed they were referring to how Jesus was conceived. You know, without sex. I assumed Catholics viewed sex as dirty and since Mary got pregnant WITHOUT HAVING SEX, I thought Jesus’ conception was The Immaculate Conception.

Welp. I was wrong.

First of all, the Immaculate Conception refers to Mary’s conception and secondly, it isn’t referring to the act of sex at all.

The Immaculate Conception refers to the sanctification of Mary’s soul at the moment of its creation, at the moment she was conceived.

In other words, Catholics believe that as preparation for the special role Mary would play in bearing the Son of God in her very womb, God granted her a unique grace by preserving her from the stain of Original Sin before it had a chance to blemish her soul. To understand why this was necessary, it’s important to understand what Catholics believe about Original Sin. When Catholics talk about Original Sin they’re either referring to the sin that Adam & Eve committed in the garden of Eden OR the hereditary stain of sin passed down to us.

When Catholics celebrate the feast of the Immaculate Conception we are celebrating the extraordinary abundance of grace that God gave Mary at the moment of her conception, preserving her soul from the hereditary stain of Original Sin.

Perhaps an easier way to understand this is that while you and I are redeemed after we are born, Mary was redeemed before she was born. Like us, she needed a Savior. God simply chose to save her at an earlier point in her life than the rest of us. This pre-birth redemption of Mary, so to speak, is what we call The Immaculate Conception.

La Purísima Inmaculada Concepción by Murillo

To be honest, when I was a Protestant, all these Marian doctrines confused me. And even after I became Catholic I struggled for a long time with the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. Why was it so important that Mary be preserved from the stain of Original Sin? Why did Catholics make such a fuss about a woman who was “just” Jesus’ Mother? To me, it always seemed that venerating Mary somehow detracted from the centrality of Christ.

It has taken me awhile to understand that Mary always brings us to Jesus. I’m not supposed to try and understand her apart from Him. In the end, all the Marian doctrines are really ALL ABOUT JESUS.

In fact, I realized it was a mistake to get all caught up in literalistic questions about Mary, demanding exact chapter and verse in the Bible. The thing is? The earliest church fathers were writing about Mary’s purity before the Bible was even compiled. Whoa.

As St. Hippolytus (170-235 AD) wrote: Mary was a “tabernacle exempt from defilement and corruption.”

St. Proclus (died circa 447 AD): “She was formed without any stain.”

St. Ambrose (340-397): “A virgin immune through grace from every stain of sin.”

St. Augustine (354-430): all the just have known of sin “except the Holy Virgin Mary, of whom, for the honour of the Lord, I will have no question whatever where sin is concerned.”

Stunner: Catholics have been writing about Mary’s purity from the earliest years of Christianity. So, if the earliest Christians believed this–even if it wasn’t dogmatically defined until much later–why was I so hasty to discount it? Did I really believe that the best and most faithful witnesses to Christianity only appeared on the scene right around the time of Billy Graham? Or maybe, if we were reeeally reaching back, the Puritans?

Ultimately it came down to an issue of trust: could I trust that the Holy Spirit had led the early church? Wouldn’t it be more prudent of me to rest on the hard work and prayer of those saints who had gone before instead of saddling myself with the Herculean task of figuring it all out for myself?

I finally rested in believing that it’s enough for me to agree with what the Church teaches–agreeing that the flesh from which the spotless Son of God was formed should be immaculate, too.

And so, like the Angel Gabriel I hail her as “FULL of grace” and answer “YES” to God just like she did.

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With deep gratitude for saints’ quotes and doctrinal explanation from NewAdvent.org and to Devin Rose whose book “If Protestantism is True” helped me better understand Marian doctrines from a former Protestant’s perspective. Also, to Mark Shea and his book: “Mary, Mother of the Son: modern myths and ancient truth”. Lastly, my deepest gratitude to Scott & Kimberly Hahn whose book “Rome Sweet Home” was the first book I read that helped me in my journey home to Catholicism.

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Other articles I’ve written about Mary:

How Mary Brought Me Back to Jesus Part 1 and Part 2

Putting Mary Away

Jesus Sent His Mother to Comfort Me

After breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?"

"Yes, Master, you know I love you."

Jesus said, "Feed my lambs."

He then asked a second time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?"

"Yes, Master, you know I love you."

Jesus said, "Shepherd my sheep."

Then he said it a third time: "Simon, son of John, do you love me?"

Peter was upset that he asked for the third time, "Do you love me?" so he answered, "Master, you know everything there is to know. You've got to know that I love you."

Jesus said, "Feed my sheep."

John 21:15-17 (The Message)

The Apologetics 315 blog quotes William Lane Craig:

If there is no God, then man and the universe are doomed. Like prisoners condemned to death, we await our unavoidable execution. There is no God, and there is no immortality. And what is the consequence of this? It means that life itself is absurd. It means that the life we have is without ultimate significance, value, or purpose.

A lot of religious people seem to think this must be what life as an atheist would be like: dreary, depressing, hopeless, and/or terrifying. Perhaps for them, with their lifetimes full of indoctrination that that’s what it should feel like, it would. But I don’t think it has to be that way.

For one thing, what are “man and the universe” doomed to if there aren’t any gods? One might well point out that, if (most versions of) the Christian god existed, the majority of humanity is doomed by God himself to be tortured in hell for an eternity. No Christian god, no eternal punishment — which is a big win. (Remember, according to several denominations’ interpretation, Revelation says only 144,000 people get saved on Judgment Day. Total. From all people who ever lived. So this would be a lot of folks getting spared infinite fire and brimstone.)

I guess what Craig is saying is, we’re doomed to die, and the universe is doomed to die too. Well, as far as we know, the universe doesn’t have feelings or even self-awareness, and we have no basis on which to presume what the universe’s state preferences might be if it could possibly have them, so I’m not concerned about the universe reaching thermodynamic equilibrium. But yes. People eventually die. Life stops, and then (as far as we know) you don’t experience anything anymore. I am not crushed by this realization. There’s no reason we should be disappointed to be denied immortality, any more than we should be disappointed to be denied the ability to turn invisible or to perform telekinesis.

Craig doesn’t seem to consider those other losses to be a crushing blow, because he hasn’t been steeped in a belief system that presumes them to be real. If you’ve been living your whole life in a dreamland where people can be immortal if only they believe hard enough (and clap their hands!), then the shock of reality could be pretty painful. This is certainly a challenge atheists face when discussing religion with theists. But lots of atheists used to be theists, and they got through this shockwave eventually. In time, one realizes that just because an idea feels sad doesn’t make it not true, and truth is the most important feature — I would say, the only important feature — when deciding whether or not to believe something.

After getting through that phase, though, one can imagine a godless universe from a different perspective. True, we see no “ultimate significance” to each human life in the way that a religious person, believing each person to be a tool of their god/s in some cosmic play or battle, would see it. But this doesn’t mean a life has no personal significance, or that there is nothing worthwhile to be done while one is alive. On the contrary, as an atheist I can’t just listen to some boilerplate lesson on the way to behave and then turn off my brain and follow robotically, so I grapple with these questions about the right way to live seriously and on a daily basis. I think this kind of reflection-guided life, compared to a religious life, is actually more fulfilling and more meaningful. All the more so when you factor in the reality that we will die someday, and we have to figure out what to do with our limited time here on earth.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t often feel like life is absurd. Certainly, I think that to say the experience of being a self-aware nugget of supernova ejecta is “absurd” is an understatement. But the absurdity doesn’t mean I’m “doomed.” It means I have an amazing opportunity, and I’m going to make the most of it, rather than do like William Lane Craig suggests he would in my place: just pout about some contradictory and/or terrifyingly repugnant fairy tales not actually being true.

“I’m going to stay at home with my kids, when I’m a mom.”

“Well, then you might want to date someone else.”

“Ok.”

“Umm… hang on a minute.  Let’s talk about this.”

That is the actual conversation between myself and Paul (my now husband, but then boyfriend) over twenty years ago.    Paul was (and is) a camp director and he knew that particular career is not a get rich quick (or slow and steady) plan, especially if only one camp director’s income is getting thrown into the pot.

I have always wanted to be a mother and knew that I would stay home with my children, if I was blessed to have any.  I don’t remember ever getting any direct teaching on that.  After I became a Christian and grew in the knowledge of God’s Word, I was even more committed.  It surprised me that others felt differently, actually.

Of course, I knew some women had to work outside the home.  I was not naive.  Yet, I knew that being a mother and staying home with my children full time was honorable work.  And that it was important.  And that it made a difference.

Paul and I had quite the discussion that night. I can picture the whole scene.  Where I was sitting.  Where he was standing.  What the atmosphere of the room felt like as soon as I said, “Ok.”

I loved Paul fiercely when we had that conversation, yet I was willing to walk away from a man who wasn’t committed to the idea of a stay-at-home-mom.  That night, we talked about how standard of living greatly affects whether a woman will stay home or not.  We talked about what we would be willing to do.  Ramen noodles was a part of the conversation.

After seventeen years of being a stay-at-home mom, I still believe that with all my heart.

The work I do is hard.  Just about every day. And it doesn’t get easier the longer I do it because the people I serve and work with and for are changing and challenging me at every new curve in the road, there is no consistency at the work place.  I am just as committed, if not more so, to being a stay at home mom.

And… it hurts and offends me when I hear again and again, “Oh, you stay home with your kids.  I wish I could do that, but we can’t afford that luxury.”

It often takes some serious tongue biting and prayer speaking inside my head to not ask the really hard question…

“Do you mean that you wish you could stay home with your kids, but you can’t afford it because you have to eat and have a place to live or do you mean that you wish you could stay home with your kids as long as it doesn’t change your standard of living?”

Why does that bother me?  It bothers me because the mindset that I am lucky to do this completely negates the sacrifice and commitment it takes to stay home for me and for many, many other women.   It’s a smack in the face to me each time a woman driving a brand new car, with expensive and sparkly new clothing, sending her kids to a crazy expensive school looks at me and says, “Oh, I wish I could stay home.”

It offends me when other women or men act like I get to stay home solely because I’m lucky.

To me, that’s like telling a doctor, “Oh, you’re lucky you can be a doctor.”  Really?  I’m pretty sure that doctor worked hard to get there.

I do too.

I think we look lovely in our wedding attire.  Ross Dress for Less clearance (two of us), resale shops (that day! four of the kiddos), and hand-me downs.  All of it. 

I remember reading this post by a blogger years ago and wanted to hug her.

Am I lucky to stay home?  I’m blessed to be able to do it, but it has always, always meant sacrifice and a standard of living most people I know aren’t willing to live.

• We eat at home most of the time.
• We shop a resale stores, Target clearance, and Walmart for most of our clothing.
• We take a beach vacation with family where we stay for free and do not have to spend money on entertainment instead of destination vacations with lots of activities that cost money.
• We lived in whatever camp housing was available, including a mobile home that was not in great shape (aka: the toilet almost fell through the floor the last year), for seven years.
• We make most food from scratch.
• We worked a second job as a family.

• We buy clothes, shoes, and accessories only as necessary or prudent (or the kids buy them with their own money).
• We cut our own hair or wait three to six months in between cuts.
• We use birthday or Christmas gift money for treats for ourselves (special hair treatments, wish list shoes, toys, etc).
• We use our big electricity use time during non-peak hours.
• We usually only eat meat Paul kills.    
• And more…

Other choices women I know make so that they can stay at home with their children (these are in real life friends):

• Use washing machine rinse water to water their yard and plants.
• Make all cleaners from scratch.
• Never go on family trips.
• Give a simple gift on gift giving occasions.
• Never buy meat for meals.
• Forgo using air conditioning (yes, even in Central Texas).
• Take their trash to the dump themselves instead of using a trash collection service (in the country).
• Wash and dry to reuse Ziploc bags.
• Have only one car as a family.
• And more…

I share these lists to show that I (and most of my stay-at-home-mom friends) make specific choices to be able to stay home with our children.  There are women who do not have to make these sacrifices, of course.  Yet, they too make different kinds of sacrifices to stay at home.

I wouldn’t change it for anything.  Not even for a big stinkin’ house.  Seriously.

It’s been suggested, since we have been looking since March for a house to buy that is in our single income camp director budget.  People that I thought knew me well have asked why I don’t just go to work so we can afford a bigger house.

Because I already have a job.

It’s not going to pay a mortgage, but it is worth much, much more than that.

And I will continue to do whatever I have to do to ensure I am a stay-at-home-mom for all of my children through their entire childhood, including more or bigger sacrifices if need be.

I pray for single moms often.  I know a very sweet one (hi, C!) that is such a fabulous mother.  She is intentional and devoted.  I admire her greatly.  I am sure that she wishes she could stay home.  I pray that some day God brings her a godly man that will make that possible for her.

I pray for the working moms I know that must work, but who want to be at home.  I know a couple of wonderful ones.

If you are a working mom that says this to stay-at-home-moms, consider holding your tongue and thinking about why you wish something, but it isn’t happening.

Are you one of the women that isn’t willing to change her standard of living to stay home?  Well, then, be honest about that.  Respect the sacrifices others make to stay home.

Are you one of the women that really does want to stay home, but that hasn’t considered really changing, possibly drastically, her standard of living so she can stay home?   Pray and sit down with pen and paper and start looking at how you could change your life to make it happen.

When I stayed home, I was making more than Paul.  I was a teacher for the deaf in the public school system (just finished my third year) and he was a camp director and residential treatment center administrator.  I will never forget the day we turned in my notice.  The look on Paul’s face reminded me of that conversation twenty years ago, but from a different angle.  He was nervous and wondered how we would do it, but he was resolved.

I loved him crazy amounts watching him take that step of faith for our family.  It was absolutely beautiful.  It still is because he has done it each time we see a positive pregnancy test and we knew our cost of living would rise, but our standard would stay the same.

He has never wavered since that July of 1996.  I am grateful and blessed for that.

I pray that God protects our commitment to me being at home by keeping Paul healthy and able to work.  I know that is key.

I am grateful for how that conversation went over twenty years ago because I simply can’t imagine being married to anyone other than my camp director that treats me like a queen and loves our children in amazing ways every day.

I am grateful for the ways God has shown us we can change our standard of living every time the budget shrinks and our family expands.

I am grateful for the seventeen years I have had so far at the best job ever.

Have you ever thought about what that statement implies? 

link to Matt Walsh’s post on You’re a Stay at Home Mom, What Do You Do All Day?

and

Life in a Shoe’s post An Open Letter to Working Moms

Hosanna: I love ant sisters.

Dad: It’s not “ant sisters” it’s ancestors.

In the early years of our marriage, my husband and I attended several Family Life Weekend retreats.

One of our biggest takeaways from these weekends focused on improving our marriage was that we are not each other’s enemy.

The enemy in my marriage is Satan, the Father of Lies, who works to deceive and to turn us against one another. Even when we may disagree, my husband is not my enemy. He is my partner, my best friend, my lover. He is not my enemy.

Knowing that changes so much!

It changes the way we live together and the way we handle disagreements. It changes the way we love one another and work together as one.

This morning as I was struggling with one of my children, the thought struck me that the same is true with my relationship towards those precious little ones that God has so blessed me with.

They are not my enemy.

They are little people that need to be shown love…the Father’s love.

They need my grace, and patience and understanding not my anger and resentment.

These little ones that can drive me to the brink of insanity are not my enemy.

When I am dealing with disobedience, defiance, and cleaning up messes left and right I need to remember that they are not my enemy.

I have only one enemy in this world.

His name is Satan.

He attacks by lying.

He attacks by deceiving.

He attacks by twisting and turning the truth of God’s word.

He attacks by confusing my mind and blurring my vision.

When I believe his lies and fall under his attacks, it is all too often the ones I love the most who suffer…my husband and my children.

When I fail to see who my real enemy is, I don’t see my children as they are.

I fail to see their innocent eyes looking up to me for approval, for grace, for forgiveness, and for love.

Today I am praising God for this reminder of who my enemy is and for remembrance of this life changing knowledge.

The next time a drink is spilt, a fight breaks out, the homeschool day goes all wrong and I am ready to raise my voice in anger and frustration I pray that I will be reminded that the ones I am tempted to lash out at are not my enemy.

I pray that I would know who my real enemy is and go to the Lord in prayer to rebuke him and his attacks.

Do you need to join me in remembering who the real enemy is in your home?

I don’t think many religious people understand what it’s like to be an atheist. They often conceive of religious belief as a quality that a person has, rather than a truth claim about reality. This is why, for example, even growing up as a nontheist UU I thought of atheism as just another kind of religious identification. (Some people are Christians, some people are Muslims, some people are atheists — just like some people are short and some people are tall, some people have dark skin and some people have pale skin, and so on.)

When you actually step out of the religious currents running through society and take a look around, you begin to realize that religions are, in fact, asserting that certain statements are true. It’s not like a hairstyle or a certain taste in music, or an immutable characteristic about a person — a religion is either true or it’s not. And it’s okay to criticize someone for believing as true things that are actually false, in a way that it would never be okay to criticize someone for having a particular hair color or for being right- or left-handed, or even for having a favorite food that’s different from yours. Being an atheist means noticing that difference, and refusing to blur the line any longer.

Once you’ve begun to see religion as a set of beliefs about reality, it starts to get pretty uncomfortable just existing in modern American society. I don’t mean to say this is debilitating or anything like that; most of the time, I get by just fine distracting myself and ignoring it. But every so often, walking down a neighborhood street and passing half a dozen churches, or finding Chick tracts littering a parking lot, or suddenly being inundated with advertising about a holiday commemorating a “virgin birth” that people actually think happened … well, life just seems surreal. Even if you have no specific objection to gathering with friends, talking about the big questions of life, and singing pretty songs. Even if you like the Christmas season. When you’re confronted with the stark truth that people actually believe all this weird stuff, as in actually think it to be the truth about the universe, it’s quite unsettling.

I used to go to a Renaissance Fair most summers, as a kid. I really liked it, and I even saved up to buy myself a simple costume. I still occasionally wear the pewter pendants I bought myself there. I remember one summer, at the Renaissance Fair with my mother, we ran into this guy — a fair employee — who looked like Mandy Patinkin when he played Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride. I’m sure the period costume helped the look, but he had the hair and the mustache going on too. For whatever reason, my mom decided to approach him and tell him this observation. (I guess it was a compliment, or something she thought he’d find amusing.) Of course, as someone working for the Renaissance Fair, he couldn’t step out of character, so he was coy with us. “The princess bride? Is the queen’s daughter already betrothed?” My mom tried to say it was a movie, but only got more evasion. “Moving pictures, you say? I have not heard of one possessing such a device, even in the royal house!” For me, thirteen years old or thereabout, I was just embarrassed and trying to get my mom to leave the whole thing alone. Kind of funny in retrospect, I suppose.

But imagine — because that digression was not a random tangent — imagine that Ren Fair enthusiasts like me all talked like our friend Inigo, all the time. Imagine that we carried on our lives just like you in most ways, except that we refused to admit that it was any later than the 1500s, that we used modern technology but referred to it by archaic names or avoided acknowledging it at all. Imagine that, if pressed, we would insist that the government was a Tudor monarchy. Imagine if you couldn’t have a conversation about a movie or a basketball game with one of us, because we would keep on maintaining our stance that no such things existed. … Now, imagine that the majority of people in the country where you live, your friends and neighbors, your coworkers, just about everyone you encounter on a day-to-day basis is this disconnected from reality.

That’s exactly what it’s like being an atheist.

… with glow stick.

One of the constantly recurring, and frankly silliest, objections to homeschooling is the embarrassing  naiveté of homeschooled kids. The implication is that a child’s growth and maturity will somehow be stunted by not witnessing the full smorgasbord of sinful behaviors and moral pitfalls that popular culture has to offer. If he hasn’t had a joint offered to him in the school bathroom by the time he’s a senior, there is simply no hope that he’ll be able to say no to it when he’s twenty!

When I put it that way, of course, the hollowness of the whole objection becomes evident, even to those who will most likely still think it’s better for a child to be “educated” in the ways of the world by his peers and (God help us) D.A.R.E instructors.

Fine, you’re right: I fully intend to turn my kids out into the world with little more than a theoretical understanding of the kinds of criminality and perversion that will most likely be going on right under their noses any time they walk down a busy street. By the time they leave my nest, they’ll most likely be in the same social position I am right now; people who engage in those activities don’t even want to talk to me much, let alone invite me to their parties. So I’ve just raised my children to be the kind of bland, boring, morally upright people that the unwise, unstable, and criminal amongst us shun out of instinct. Oh, how could I be so stupid?

Like I said before, there is no way that I can keep my kids from finding out about sin, being sinners as they are. I don’t expect to. But there’s a flip side to this whole naiveté thing, and that is the fact that, when I send my naïve children off to be educated by government-employed strangers, their naiveté is a serious weakness, making them prey to unscrupulous teachers, wayward peers, and even crooked police. If I keep them either at home with me or under the tutelage of Christian teachers I know to be working toward the same goals that I am, these little ones of mine will still be naïve children, absolutely! But what else do you want children to be? Jaded? Worldly? Street smart? I thought we wanted to keep them off the streets, not familiar with them.

Where does this perverse desire to destroy childish innocence come from? Certainly not from God, who says that we must become like little children, and not the other way around, if we wish to see the kingdom of Heaven.

Several years ago, I witnessed the whole adult congregation of a church gathering around a group of teens to pray for them because of the sexual pressures and violence that they were forced to deal with every day. Now, I’m all for prayer, and I’m glad they were at least doing that much for the poor kids. But what caught me was the pastor’s words before they prayed. He said “Our children have to deal with pressures every day that we as adults would never have to face. They need God’s hand of protection on their lives in a special way.”

So we’re sending kids into these spiritual and emotional pressure cookers, even though in the “real world,” for which we are supposed to be preparing them, this stuff (bullying, sexual pressure, drug use, etc.), doesn’t happen among decent people? In the real world where grown-ups live, if these things happen there are both practical and legal steps that a grownup can take to defend himself. He can simply choose not to go there; he can prosecute wrongdoing; he can find a new job; he can find new peers. But these kids, who don’t have the benefit of years of wisdom? Meh. Just cover them in prayer and send them to learn from these people how to walk in Truth.

This little episode at church was what did it for me. It was about 8 years ago, and it was what convinced me to homeschool.

He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.

–Proverbs 13:20

Not long ago, I witnessed a similar thing with a group of parents lamenting the sexual pressure that middle-school girls must face at such a young and inappropriate age. “Lord, help them!” they said. And they sent them back into the cesspool the very next day.

My dad is kind of a funny guy. When I was a teenager, he’d often see me doing some household task and ask “Do you need some help with that, honey?” I’d accept his offer, only to hear, “Help her, Lord!”

The difference between my dad doing that and these parents doing this is that my dad knew he was joking, and would then get up and help me.

The Bible says some things about praying and doing:

If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be you warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.

–James 2:15-16

Now, if we’re called not just to pray, but to do for the physical needs of our brothers and sisters, how much more does this apply to caring for the souls of our own children?

My children’s naiveté will vanish, despite the foolish concerns of naysayers, but it will recede through years of Bible training, not through the hardening effects of early exposure. My son will learn how to keep to the narrow path through the learning of Proverbs and being made aware of his own sin by God’s word, not through being slammed against locker doors because he’s the only kid that won’t get high with the rest of his social group between classes. My daughter will learn to honor her body by being around those who also honor her body, not from those who belittle and objectify her.

And he said to his disciples, “Temptations to sin are sure to come, but woe to the one through whom they come! It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin.

–Luke 17:1-2

I went to a public school, so I know how that naiveté we’re so scared to see in our children gets worn away, and it is not through the maturing of a child’s spirit, but through the breaking of it. No thank you. We don’t want any of that kind of jaded “maturity” in our family.

Public Schools and Naive Kids is a post from: Get Along Home

When I was in school, our teacher would inevitable give us an assignment as Thanksgiving approached that required us to write down all the things for which we were thankful. From what I remember, I put the big things on my list: my parents, God, my home, my brother and sister, our cats and dog, my friends, school and teachers (OK, maybe I didn’t put those on the list. )

The point is, I was thinking of all the good things I had, in particular the ones I took for granted, but when I paused, I really was glad I had each one.

Never once did I think that Thanksgiving could be a day for digging deeper. In fact, this “count your blessings, name them one by one” approach to Thanksgiving trained me to think of the good things I was thankful for as the tangible evidence that God cared.

I didn’t stop to think that He might also care just as much for a little Christian girl in an orphanage in India who had no parents or home, and sometimes went to bed hungry.

I also didn’t realize that many, many of the people recorded in Scripture who started well, who said they would obey God, turned from Him on the heels of receiving His blessings.

King David comes to mind. He’d survived Saul’s attempts to kill him, ascended to the throne, and led his people to victory after victory. Then, as he enjoyed the fruit of his labor, he decided to stay home while his commander led his army into battle. And that’s when David saw Bathsheba, ignored the fact that she was married, and committed adultery with her.

David repented, but others never turned it around. King Asa, for example, ruler of the southern kingdom of Judah, walked with God and experienced great success against the enemies because he turned to God for help:

Then Asa called to the LORD his God and said, “LORD, there is no one besides You to help in the battle between the powerful and those who have no strength; so help us, O LORD our God, for we trust in You, and in Your name have come against this multitude. O LORD, You are our God; let not man prevail against You.”

God answered that prayer, and for thirty-eight years Asa ruled as a man dependent upon God. But there came a day when he decided to buy his way out of trouble instead of pray his way out.

His scheme worked, but here’s what God told him:

At that time Hanani the seer came to Asa king of Judah and said to him, “Because you have relied on the king of Aram and have not relied on the LORD your God, therefore the army of the king of Aram has escaped out of your hand. Were not the Ethiopians and the Lubim an immense army with very many chariots and horsemen? Yet because you relied on the LORD, He delivered them into your hand. For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His. You have acted foolishly in this. Indeed, from now on you will surely have wars.” (2 Chron. 16:7-9)

Asa could have repented too, but instead he threw Hanani into prison and he oppressed some of the people. He ended up sick, alone, and bitter. He had the blessing of answered prayer and God’s protection and power, and he turned his back on the Giver of all those good gifts.

I could go on and on. Solomon, Rehoboam, Jeroboam, Uzziah, Miriam, Nadab and Abihu, Jonah, Gehazi, and many more.

It seems as if the good things either became an idol that moved in front of God as the most loved, or the individual took credit for the good things and moved himself in front of God as the most loved.

When the people of Israel were in want, they turned to God. When they experienced His abundance, they turned from Him.

So it seems to me, having a thanksgiving day in which we simply tick off the good things we have is a way to set ourselves up for failure. Not that we should deny the good things, but it seems to me the true approach to Thanksgiving should be an enumeration, not of our stuff, but of God’s attributes–the things He’s revealed about Himself that give us a look into His character. And not just an enumeration, but an all out face plant at His feet, thanking Him for who He is and what He’s done.

After all, who God is lies behind what He’s given us and why. Who God is will outlast any of the stuff we enjoy today. Who God is, is a treasure that outshines any other.

It’s certainly not wrong for anyone to celebrate a national Thanksgiving Day as we are here in the US this coming Thursday, or for anyone to have a personal day of giving thanks. For myself, though, I want to change my focus. I don’t want this to be about the good things our God gives but about our good God Himself.

I wish I was clever enough to make a video that would go viral or savvy enough to get this trending on Twitter. What I’d like to see is believers unite to say, I’m thankful because God is merciful. I’m thankful because God is just. I’m thankful because God is generous. I’m thankful because God is my salvation. I’m thankful because ___ Your turn!

This afternoon I’m weeding through some of my books and came across one by a favorite children’s author, Jean Little – Hey World, Here I Am! On page 28 I came across a poem, “After English Class.” It’s written in the first person in the voice of Kate Bloomfield, who describes how she used to like the Frost poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” She liked the sound of the words and their rhythm, and the imagery. She could see the snow and hear the jingling bells. I think that’s what Robert Frost would have wanted.

The next lines explain how the teacher ruined the poem for her:

But today, the teacher told us what everything stood for.

The woods, the horse, the miles to go, the sleep—

They all have ‘hidden meanings.’

It’s grown so complicated now that,

Next time I drive by,

I don’t think I’ll bother to stop.

Sometimes as teachers, our attempts to help students find deeper meanings in literature may have unintended consequences. Just as a student of biology may prefer a living whole frog to the dead one they have just dissected, the students who read a poem may just want to enjoy it and respond to it with  their own imaginations. Does the dissection the teacher provides keep students from gleaning meanings they might have discovered on their own?

Photo courtesy of http://pixabay.com/en/users/PublicDomainPictures/

Meditations on Grace

It’s been 1o years since this humbling experience. 10 years and a hundred other things have filled the days and weeks, and stretched out the months into years, but it is so seared in my brain–a small but transformational piece of my story, a glimpse of where God would take me in the years to come.

I’ve never been good at receiving grace. It was only last year when God bent me low and showed me what it looks like up close, me, with my face to the floor, and Him, loving me hard and furious through a bitter season.

But as with all of our stories, the beginning as we come to see it, is often somewhere in the middle, somewhere before we realize it where it all actually started.

Today I’m recounting a memory, a moment when God showed up in the form of a nurse.

She slipped in quietly, turning on one lamp near my bedside. She moved about her work without saying much, in a ritualistic sort of way–her arms strong, and face tender. She smiled at me when I opened my eyes, “I’m here to clean you up a bit darlin’.” Words as sweet as the Savannah taffy spun down by the river.

In the dim hospital room, I glanced up at the clock–a bath at 4am? Of course, in hospitals, things happen when they happen, with little regard to what time of day or night. Baths are given according to charts and shifts, rather than convenience. …

Join me at Bible Dude for the rest of this story.

The post What We Can’t Do For Ourselves, Meditations on Grace appeared first on Kris Camealy.

“Can you help me?”

A common enough question in the course of my workday as a college mailman. Asked by the old and the young alike, but mostly the young. And I am generally in a well enough mood to reply Yes, I certainly can help you, even if I am generally not in a well enough mood to be excited about the prospect. Because if there is one thing I’ve learned in my long and storied career of postal delivery to a bunch of 18-21 year-olds, it’s that they often need a lot of help. A LOT.

So, just a bit ago—“Can you help me?”

Yes.

Young lady, nineteen-ish. I pegged her as a junior. Not because I knew anything at all about her, but because I’ve been here long enough to be able to guess such things with a modicum of accuracy. It was the way she dressed—pajama bottoms and a raggedy sweatshirt, which told me she’d been here long enough to not care anymore but no so long that she understood it just may be time to start growing up a little—and the way she addressed me—in the eye. She’d laid the envelope, pen, and stamp on the counter in front of her. When I walked up, she was staring at all three as if they were all pieces to some exotic puzzle.

I asked what sort of help she needed, which could have been anything from needing a zip code to how much postage was needed to mail something to China. But no, neither of those.

Instead, she said, “I don’t know how to mail this.”

“Just fill it out,” I told her. “I’ll mail it for you when you’re done.”

“No. I mean, I don’t know . . . how.”

“How to what?”

“You know. Like, fill this out.”

She pointed to the envelope and stared at it. I stared at it, too. Because I had no idea what she was talking about.

“You mean,” I asked, “you don’t know how to address an envelope?”

“No.”

“You mean, No, that’s not it? Or do you mean, No, I don’t know how to address an envelope?”

Now she looked at me. Her brow scrunched. I got the image of her seated in some classroom desk, trying to split the atom.

“I don’t know how to address an envelope,” she said.

I’ll be honest—it took me a while. Not to show her how to address an envelope (which, as it turned out, took much, much longer than a while, took what felt like an eternity), but for what this young woman told me to finally sink in. She really didn’t know how to address an envelope. Had no idea where to put the stamp, where to write her home address (it was a card, she said, to her mother) and not only where to write the return address, but what a return address was.

Nineteen years old. Junior in college. I can assume this young lady was bright, or else she wouldn’t be in college. And resourceful. And driven. Capable, too—she whipped out her iPhone and danced through so many apps to find her mother’s address that it nearly gave me a seizure. But when it came to something as commonplace as sending a letter? Nothing.

“Nobody sends letters anymore,” she told me. “It’s so 1800s.”

She finished her envelope and affixed the stamp (after being told where that went, too). I had to sit down for a bit afterward. My head was killing me.

Now I’m thinking:

Is this really where we’ve come? Have we really raised a generation of children who are so dependent upon technology that anything without a button is an unsolvable mystery?

But there’s something more as well, something far worse. In our instant world of texts and emails and Facebook posts and tweets, that poor girl has missed out on one of the true pleasures of life. She has never sat at a quiet desk with paper and pen to write a letter. She has never pondered over the words that have leaked through her hand and fingers, never slowed enough to find the rhythm of her words and her heart. She has never felt the trepidation of folding those words (and her heart) into thirds and stuffing them in an envelope sealed with her own saliva—her own DNA—and placing it in a mailbox. Never worried that her letter maybe wouldn’t get to where it was meant to go. Never felt the exhilaration of finding a sealed reply waiting for her days or weeks later.

Give me the new, the world says. Give me the shiny and the bright. I say take it. I’ll keep my paper and pen.

Day 822 of 1000

Betty Blonde #7 – 07/25/2008

Click here or on the image to see full size strip.

Steven Crowder explains some things about marijuana that many people do not know:

Welcome to week 2 of the 4-week series I’m doing to answer the question many of us moms have… Lord, am I messing up my kids? (Click here if you missed last week’s post.)

Have you ever struggled with letting a circumstance that came your way suddenly define you? This seems to be a lesson God lets me live over and over. He wants to be my only definition of who I am.

I am a child of God, holy and dearly loved. I know this. I teach this.

I believe this in the very depths of my soul. Yet it is so easy for me to slip into redefining myself when situations arise.

Several years ago, one of my precious-precious-precious-yet-just-as-apt-to-sin-as-the-rest-of-us kids was called to the principal’s office—on the very day I received an invitation to speak at a national parenting conference, thank you very much.

With my head I was able to see the situation for what it was. “My child is in the process of being shaped. My child is strong, and while this will serve her well later in life, strength in an immature little person begs to be disciplined. She is a sweet child who made a not-so-sweet choice.”

However, with my heart I felt like a failure. I wanted to decline the opportunity to speak at that conference and go crawl in a hole somewhere. A part of me felt as though I’d been called to the principal’s office as the voice of condemnation started haunting me, “You are a bad mom. You have a bad child. You have a bad home.”

So, quietly, I slipped away with Jesus. And I did what I’ve done a hundred times before. I held those condemnations up to the Lord and asked Him to help me see this situation the way He wants me to see it. Not the way others see it, not the way my heart is tempted to see it, but the way He sees it.

Matthew 7:24-27 says:
Everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.

Do you know what amazes me about those verses? Both the person doing right and the person doing wrong experienced hard times. In both cases the rains came, the streams rose, and the wind blew and beat against the house.

Just because we’re parents living out God’s principles for life does not mean we won’t face difficult circumstances.

God’s Spirit spoke to my heart that day and said, “Let Me invade your natural flesh reaction. Instead of letting your mind run wild with this, sit with Me for a while. Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

So I sat and I prayed. I went from defining myself as a failure of a mom to being a praying mom who can face a hardship in a godly way. The frustration was diffused as I determined to look at this from God’s perspective.

Once again, God reassured me. I am not a bad mom. My child is not a bad child. My home is not a bad home. This situation is a call to action. There is a character issue that needs to be addressed within the heart of my child. And kids are supposed to have character issues that need to be addressed. That’s why God gave them parents. That’s why God gave me this specific child. God sees within me the ability to be the one He’s perfectly designed to raise up this child.

When hard times come and beat against our stability, we must be determined to hear God’s words and put them into practice. Then nothing can topple our peace, security, or true identity.

I’m not sure who else needed to hear that—but I know I certainly did. So dry your tears, sweet mama. Today is a new day. A day when we will only be defined by God’s truth and grace as we navigate this wild wonder called parenthood.

—

We all need to extend grace to ourselves and enjoy slow moments to recharge our hearts. Today, I’m giving away 3 treat bundles that include a Starbucks gift card, a candle, and a copy of my book Am I Messing Up My Kids? to help you do just that.

To be entered to win, leave a comment below telling me what verses you rely on when handling a hard situation with your child. {All winners will be notified via e-mail.}

Related posts:

1. Could I Be The Worst Mom Ever?
2. When Strong Mamas Feel Quite Weak
3. The Day My Insecurities Didn’t Win

Recently, a new LifeWay store opened in my neighborhood. I’d never been in a LifeWay store before but knew they advertised themselves on Twitter as “one of the world’s largest providers of Christian products and services.” Well, this week I needed some supplies for my 2nd grade faith formation class, so I decided to check it out. I mean, Catholics are Christians too, right?

I walked into the store and saw aisles of KJV Bibles, devotional study Bibles, picture story Bibles for kids, Bibles for teenagers, Bibles For Divorced Men Who Drive Chevy Trucks. OK, I’m kidding about that last one. But you get the point: there were Bibles for every kind of Christian demographic except….Catholics.

And while there wasn’t one Crucifix or Rosary or prayer book or baptism candle to be found in the entire store, there WAS a huge section dedicated to Duck Dynasty. Huh?? 

When I asked a very friendly employee where I might find a Catholic Bible (for lack of a better word) he told me: “We don’t keep those in stock.”

“You don’t keep them in stock?” I repeated, puzzled.

“Well, we can order it for you!” he offered, with a huge smile.

“Um. OK, well. I was hoping to have it by this Sunday for my catechism class,” I said.

His brow furrowed. “Hmm. Not sure we can get it to you by then.”

Disappointed, I browsed the kids’ section for some Bible storybooks while my twins watched a Veggie Tales movie that was playing.

“Mommy, what’s this?” Jasiel asked, holding up a stuffed, red tomato.

“Bob the Tomato,” I answered.

“Who?”

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. The absurdity of it all, you know? A vegetable named Bob. A cucumber named Larry. Indeed, an entire RACK of vegetable-themed Bible story movies. But not ONE kid’s book about The Lord’s Prayer.

I did end up purchasing two Bible story books and one discount-priced kids’ praise music CD. I also signed up for the store emails and coupons.

But just as I was ready to pay, the cashier asked if I’d like to donate to their “Thomas Project”–a mission effort to provide Bibles to people in South Asia. “These people don’t have Scripture in their own language,” she explained.

I stared, the irony of it rendering me just totally speechless.

LifeWay cares about accessibility to Scripture so much that they’ll provide Bibles to people living in South Asia…but not to Catholics living right in their own hometown.

It honestly felt humiliating. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of my fellow Catholics have felt so slighted and dismissed when shopping at LifeWay. But then I remembered how, as a fundamentalist, I often said Catholics weren’t Christians. Standing there in front of the cashier, I could feel myself beginning to blush. I had done to Catholics what LifeWay was now doing to me.

Tears came to my eyes. All I felt now was sorrow. Sorrow for all the division, sorrow for all the misunderstanding, sorrow for all the unnecessary fighting between brothers and sisters in Christ.

The twins were clamoring for my attention so I quickly paid and turned away.

As I was leaving the store, another customer held the door for me and then–in a lowered voice–said: “If you’re looking for a Catholic Bible, I know of a store about 20 minutes away from here.”

Her lowered voice, her clandestine gestures–it was like we were underground Catholics afraid of being exposed to the Big, Bad Protestants. She shrugged, sorta sheepish: “I overheard your conversation at the cash register,” she said.

I looked at her. Smiled. And then we both laughed.

Because whoa. Christians are weird, man. No wonder “the world” thinks we’re nuts.

I am thankful for so-called First World Problems, because they mean I live in a first world country.

The a/c in our 17yo van barely works.  We have a van big enough to haul our mega-family – and after so many years, it still runs with relatively little trouble!

My boys wear out their clothes so much more quickly than my girls.  We have boys.  And girls.

Our storage shed is such a mess I can hardly get into  it, and I can’t find what I need in there.  My house overfloweth.

The new dishes I received just last year are already badly chipped and broken.  I have children old enough to help with dishes.

Pantry moths keep getting into my dry goods when I don’t rotate them quickly enough.  We have plenty of food.  We have so much food we sometimes can’t eat it before the bugs get it.

I have a herniated disc in my lower back.  I can function normally with minimal pain.

Our electric bill goes sky high during the summer due to air conditioning.  We have air conditioning.  And electricity.

We had a stillborn daughter and two more early miscarriages.  We have 11 living children, all in good health. How many people lose all their children, or never have the children they desperately wanted?

My problems are so small, so temporary, so minor – even when they feel big to me.  In fact, nearly every problem is just the cost associated with a blessing.  Because I have things, they will sometimes break.  Because I am blessed with children, they will sometimes break my things.  Because I am blessed with life, my body will sometimes fail to function perfectly.

I want to remember to be thankful for my problems, because every problem can be a reminder of a blessing.

See the rest of my 30 Days of Thanks 2013

Historical narrative sections of the Bible can be some of the easiest to understand but the most difficult to interpret. We know what’s happening in the story of Jesus’ miraculously feeding 5,000 people and the account of David slaying Goliath. But why did the biblical authors write down those stories in the first place? Contrary to some teaching, the feeding of the 5,000 isn’t merely a story about sharing and David and Goliath isn’t merely about conquering obstacles. As a primer for interpreting such passages, here are some tips to unlock the meaning of biblical narratives from Robert Stein’s book, A Basic Guide to Interpreting the Bible.

Interpret historical narrative in light of its context. The overall meaning of a Bible book and the immediate context of a specific passage can both be clues to a narrative’s meaning. For example, when reading about the feeding of the 5,000 in John 6:1-15, it’s important to remember what John says is the purpose of his entire Gospel: “These [things] are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:31). The immediate context also gives an important hint about meaning. In verses 30-31, the crowd demands that Jesus do a sign to help them believe He is from God, and they suggest a miracle similar to what God did in Exodus by providing Israel with bread in the wilderness. From context, we see that the point of the feeding of the 5,000 is to demonstrate that Jesus is the promised Messiah from God whom we should follow.

Take note of authorial comments inserted in the narrative. Often biblical authors make inspired editorial comments, parenthetical insertions of sorts that give clues about a narrative’s meaning. Consider the repeated commentary in the story of David and Goliath concerning David’s lack of traditional battle weapons. The author says he “put off” the armor offered by Saul (1 Samuel 17:39) and that “there was no sword in the hand of David” (1 Samuel 17:50). And twice we’re told that he fought with a sling (1 Samuel 17:40, 49). One point of the story is to illustrate that God had anointed David as the warrior king of Israel. His victory was attributable to God’s empowerment, not impressive weapons.

Look for repetition of key themes. In Judges, we notice a cycle in the narrative. The author tells us that when Israel sinned, God gave them over to their enemies (Judges 2:14; 3:8, 12; 4:2; 6:1; 10:7-9; 13:1). Then, when Israel cried out to the Lord, He delivered them (Judges 3:9, 15; 4:4-24; 6:11-25; 11:1-33). From this repetition it’s clear that the narrative is meant to teach that sin leads to judgment and following God to deliverance.

Note the proportion of a story devoted to various details. Often an author gives more space to what is most important, as in Mark 5:1-20 where Mark devotes a full 20 percent of the narrative to describing the hopeless plight of a demon-possessed man (vv. 2-5). Jesus’ ability to cast out the demons and overcome such powerful evil merely with a word points to His vast authority as the meaning of the narrative.

Pay attention to what’s said in direct discourse. One way a narrator reveals why he’s telling a story is through the words characters say to each other. Jesus’ stilling of the storm in Mark 4 is a case in point. In that story the disciples say to one another, “Who is this, that even wind and sea obey him?” (Mark 4:41). Mark was trying to communicate that Jesus is the master of nature, coequal with God the Father.

Of course, the fact that biblical narratives seek to communicate a message should not be used to evade the historical reality of the accounts. For instance, some scholars have tried to argue that stories of Jesus’ miracles are fictional, intended only to teach theological truths. But the Bible treats the miracles—along with all other events described in historical narrative passages—as real occurrences, and so should we. Yet don’t let your understanding of these passages end with the recognition that they really happened. God inspired the biblical authors to record them for specific reasons. By paying attention to a few details, you can learn those reasons.