Who but a fool would make his own god—
an idol that cannot help him one bit?

If we could remember that and not only what it says but what it implies...what a life we could lead.

Those thoughts are comforting to me today.  Even in that wild, dry, probably desolate place God was with them and providing for them, sustaining them each moment of every day.  All they had to do was collect the manna.

Collect the manna.  The bread from heaven.  The "what is it?"  As Ann Voskamp talks about it, the mystery...our Lord Jesus Christ. 

I could hear all three kids downstairs, and at first they were playing nicely.  Christian and Eliana had already come in our room wearing matching outfits (jeans and an "Alaska" shirt from their Grandma Diana) (What do you think?  I keep little skirts around for Christian?) and wanting breakfast.  Christian then told Eliana he could get her breakfast and my heart both leapt with joy and sank at the same time.  I wasn't sure if I definitely wanted to stay in bed because of the mess that was sure to follow or get up because of the mess that was sure to follow.

I stayed in bed.  But...then there was a little squabble.  Soon a quarrel.  A little yelling.  I looked at my phone (which is my clock) and saw it was only 9:23.  I know that seems outrageously late to some (read: normal) people, but I had visions of being in bed until 11 while my kids entertained themselves happily downstairs or wherever I wasn't in bed. 

I could see that my vision was not a very realistic one, and I thought to myself,"I need to go to church.  I need to take them to church."  I wish I could say that it was for the noble reason of being a decent Christian parent, but the truth is, this morning I knew that it would be a Very Long Day if I kept them at home and they were already driving me so crazy at just 9:30am. 

I threw off the covers and told them I was showering and we were leaving soon after that for worship.  They seemed fine with that, which gave me a boost.  So did showering.  I even dried my hair! 

(I figure that no one, or maybe three people, read this section, so I can go on for however long I want to about totally insignificant details because if you are someone who is reading this then you must realize that the details always matter in the end.  Or not.)

I got them all dressed (okay, Michaela dressed herself) and myself too (that would have been embarrassing!) and we headed out the door.  We were early for worship, which I found completely refreshing!  We sat with some friends, and between three moms there were six boys, and they all sat in the row in front of us.  My girls sat with me.  The boys were good for the most part, but in the end I had Christian come sit next to me because he was getting too wiggly. 

Here is the really important part, though.  I am so glad that I made the effort to go.  Even though my reason in the beginning was not a very good one (or at least not a very God-honoring one), I was so blessed by worship today.  Don't get me wrong.  I do not believe that we are supposed to go to church in order to be entertained or for our own selves.  We ought to be there in order to praise the Lord, and to bring him glory with our worship, our attention, our fellowship with each other as brothers and sisters in Christ.  A worship service should be about God's glory from beginning to end.  I also think, though, that one of the amazing things about God is that he brings us into his glory, he graciously lifts up those who bow down before him. 

I told Mike later that the music was pretty much perfect today as far as I was concerned.  The leaders chose both praise songs and hymns that have been very meaningful throughout my life.  We sang Strength Will Rise, Forever Reign (You Are Good), Holy, Holy, Holy, and Blessed Be Your Name.  It was better than a trifecta...it was a quadrecta!  I jokingly said the only thing that was missing was Come Thou Fount.  It was like they custom-picked the worship music for me.  Of course, they didn't do that, but if someone did, it would look a lot like today's service.  Or sound like it, anyway.

The sermon drove right into my heart, too.  The pastors are doing a series on generosity this season of Lent, and it has been powerful.  Today, the message coupled with a video that they showed of a trip to Africa last summer (to Njuthine, where there is an ongoing partnership and ministry) really got to me.  I looked at those children's faces, and all the people lined up to see the doctors and nurses who went to volunteer their time in a new medical facility, and the kids who were replacing their completely worn out shoes (if you could call them that) with new shoes from donors, and tears just streamed down my face.  I can run out any time and get my kids new shoes without thinking about if there will be financial repercussions, or wondering if we will have to go without a meal because they need shoes or clothes or toothbrushes. 

I TAKE SO MUCH FOR GRANTED.  And I DO NOT GIVE ENOUGH. 

I'm not talking about around here.  I think that's true too.  I could do more in my home, to keep it orderly and maintained better.  But what I am talking about this time is that I don't think about, really truly think about, what is going on outside of this house.  In an abstract way?  Sure.  But in a concrete and practical way?  Not really. 

I want that to change.  It's scary to say that, because now something will certainly have to change.  God won't let this one lie untouched.  And would you believe that the devotion that Michaela and I did tonight asked the question,"Is there something that you are afraid to do, that you know God is asking you to do?"

Hello!  My heart longs to do so much, there are so many opportunities to serve just in this city, much less in different organizations that do stuff around the world (International Justice Mission, World Vision, our own church's mission opportunities) and yet I don't.  I let fear get in the way.  It's true.  I am afraid of how dirty I will get if our family gets involved in any one of the ministries in which it would be so easy to invest ourselves. 

Goodness, that is humiliating to admit.  Many years ago I went to Portugal on a mission trip and we stayed with a couple that ministered in the city in which they lived as well as in very small villages in the nearby mountains.  We would load up in a van, roll down the windows, sing our lungs out, and travel up to these tiny collections of homes, where the women would bring their wash to the community water hole (what I remember is that it was a very large, cement bathtub-like area) and the kids (Such beautiful children!) would run and play nearby.  We were very interesting to all of them and they enjoyed conversation with us (the best we could have, anyway, through translators).  The children, brown with white teeth, wearing shorts and t-shirts, or just shorts if they were boys, or old dresses if they were girls, loved the songs we taught them, the balloon animals we made, and the dancing.  The women had such stories...their teeth were long gone, the hardships they had faced and the difficult lives they lived were written on their faces in each wrinkle that led to their bright eyes and surrounded their smiling lips.  Rugged, cheerful women they were, in spite of the conditions in which they lived.  I held hands with these children, hugged on them, and who in the world knows the last time they had bathed or even washed their hands properly.  I never gave it a second thought at the time.  What happened to that girl who could see beauty in anyone? 

I know this was going somewhere when I started writing, but have rambled myself to a point much like one of those out-of-the-way villages in the mountains.  Kind of off the map.  I really wanted to say that God took me to church today.  I hope he was honored by our worship.  He also challenged me, and all day long at that, to do something for him that requires courage.  The passage from the service was from 1 Corinthians 9, and verse 11 was particularly challenging: You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.  We are given to so that we are able to give.  And finally, the verse from Michaela's devotional?  Joshua 1:9: Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.

I don't think God could be any clearer than that.

I think similar things can be said about the Christian journey.  I know for me it is so very easy to look at all of my mistakes, like the basketball players might look at each shot they missed and think,"If only I had made that one!"  Failures are easy to count, aren't they?  They practically number themselves.  And maybe it's good to look at them for the sake of learning, but we should not dwell on them.  Instead we ought to focus on both where we have come from and where we are headed, the goal.  The analogy between the life of faith and the basketball player breaks down, as often happens, because in the end it is really God who is accomplishing everything in and through us.  In seminary we had a professor tell us that sanctification was  100% the work of God and we have to do it.  So, we are still like the athletes who work hard to win the prize.  (Duh, the Bible does speak in those very terms.)  Yet we must maintain that apart from him we can do nothing.  (John 15:5)

In the Old Testament, the Israelites often looked back at what God had done in order to remember his faithfulness and to be encouraged by how he kept his promises before.  Because he is God and he does not change, we (like the Israelites) can believe and trust that he will keep his promises in the future.  When we look at how far we have come in our Christian life, we learn how to further place our trust in our Abba, our heavenly Father. 

I don't know if any of this makes sense, and I'm still mulling over things I read in the book One Thousand Gifts.  Still sorting things out in my head.  Looking back and remembering, looking forward and trusting.  Trying to learn, learning to trust, trusting when tried.  God's goodness is foremost in my mind.

And I was sad.  I was sad that here I was again, in that same place of self-condemnation, anger, and despair. 

Mike called me on it.  The kids were looking for me, they wanted their friends next door to come over and had been working on cleaning their rooms (well, Michaela had been; Christian had played a lot more than cleaned, and I had picked up his floor...grrrr).  Mike asked me what I was doing.  I wanted to yell at him to go away and leave me alone, but I talked to him instead.  Don't congratulate me; I'm sure I was less than pleasant.  I got up and I think I went to start dinner.  I did apologize at some point.  I never really felt better though.

I still feel cruddy.  It's stupid.  In addition to all of the emotions, I have a huge red spot on the top of my nose, my mustache is in full force, my allergies are raging, and I got a sunburn today. 

How in the world does a 36-year-old who knows better get a sunburn?!  Just a ring around my neck.  Redder on one side than the other, since the sun was a bit to the west. 

As I sat on the floor I thought about what I had written yesterday, about hope.  I was mad at it.  Then I was grateful for it.  I know that depression isn't something that just goes away and never comes back.  I suppose it could, because we all know that anything can happen.  But it's not very likely.  There will be ups and downs.  I need to remember that, for everyone's sake. 

Tomorrow is Sunday.  I'm glad of that.  I need a Sunday.  I'm going to worship.  I think I'll start now.

Mike and I found out about this one family's story just yesterday; a little boy, eleven years old, is dying of cancer.  After an MRI confirmed some of their worries, the parents had to tell their son that there would be no more chemo or any other treatments.  He has months to live. 

Not too long ago someone shared a prayer request in our Sunday School class about someone he worked with; the previous Thursday night this woman's daughter wasn't feeling well.  She went to bed, and never woke up.  She was five. 

There are so many people who are battling cancer and other diseases.  Accidents leave individuals and families changed forever.  Instead of running carpools and giving baths they are grieving losses of one kind or another.  People are still sold, bought, and abused; this happens to adults and children alike.  We witness, as though watching the cruelest of reality shows, natural disasters take homes and vehicles and place them on top of other buildings or wash them out to sea.  Do we think about the people who are likely in those waves, below that water, amidst swirling debris and wreckage?  It's one thing to watch material possessions get destroyed by storms or earthquakes, but quite another to watch as human beings are dying.  I remember thinking that same thing as we watched the attacks on September 11, 2001.  This was no movie.  There were no special effects or stunt doubles.  It was real life.  Real suffering and dying and heartache and gut-wrenching sacrifice. 

All of these things played through my mind and I thought,"What do people have to hold on to if this is it?"  There is nothing.  There is nothing in this world that is solid, firm, dependable, unshakeable, indestructible.  There is nothing that belongs to this creation that will last once this world, this universe has expired.  There is no one alive on this planet who can claim never to perish.  Surely each one of us will breathe a final breath.  Surely there will come a time when we consider all of our days here on earth in a flash, and with joy, sorrow, satisfaction, and regret we will remember life; we will know that the time has come for that story that we have been telling with our living to see its final period.  Or exclamation mark, depending on the one telling the story, living the life!

But there is something else.  There is one who is solid, firm, dependable, unshakeable, indestructible.  There is one who was before this world was created and who will be long after it is gone.  There is one who can claim immortality, and what is more, eternality. 

I can't say that I don't have fears.  I can't say that I have arrived at that point in my faith at which I can look death in the face and cry,"I'm not afraid of you!"  I think I can quietly confess that I am not afraid to die in the sense that I believe that after I close my eyes for the last time, think my last thought, feel the last beat of my heart, I will be with the Lord God my Creator and Savior right then.  But when I think about scary situations or when my mind gets caught up in one of my irrational scenarios, my heart starts pounding, and I get tense, and I feel afraid.  At the same time I can tell myself that I have nothing to fear in the end.  And what is better is that these aren't just words that I can try to comfort myself with...but instead I have real, substantial hope.  Just as certainly as I will face death, my own and probably that of at least some of the ones I love, I certainly have hope because Christ conquered death.  He conquered the very thing which brings me such anxiety and distress.

Hope is the true balm, the only salve for our sorrows.  Again, if all we have to hold onto is here, the things that are before us, the people that surround us, then sorrow is sure to swallow us up.  But if indeed Christ was raised from the dead, then we can believe that the promise that we also will be raised from the dead is sure.  And if we will be raised from the dead then we can say with confidence,"Death, I am not afraid of you!"  Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians (15:54,55) tells them,"'Death has been swallowed up in victory!'" and reminds them of what the prophets said,"'Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?'"

When I look at the anguished faces in the pictures that I see from Japan, or when I think of the family telling their young son that there is nothing else the doctors can do for him, or imagine any of the other tragic, heartbreaking scenarios that take place all the time all around the world, I get overwhelmed by emotions, and feel desperate.  There is only one place to go when those feelings come, there is only one place to go when confronted with those images.  There is only one place to go for the people in those images.  The throne of the risen Lord is where we will find comfort.  His promises are what we have to help us through the valley of the shadow of death.  The hope that we have that this is not all there is is his salve for us as we suffer, as we face trials and experience grief.  We have something more to hold onto, something more to look forward to, something more to offer others.

Today I replayed in my mind a video we watched in our worship service one Sunday.   You may be familiar with it (there are many versions on youtube) - "That's My King...Do You Know Him?"  It is a sermon by Reverend Dr. S.M. Lockridge and it makes me want to stand up and shout.

What he said.

I am so grateful that I know him.  Knowing him has given me hope.  That is the only comfort for my sorrows.  And yours.

Do you know him?

I am finally seeing the light at the end of the laundry tunnel, y'all. 

Dudes.  That was a long tunnel.  A long, long, long tunnel. 

Tonight as I was trying to get Eliana to sleep Michaela came in and asked if she could start a load.  I told her to go ahead and do the light colored towels.  She was giddy with excitement at the anticipation of doing laundry (boy, does she have some fun to look forward to, eh?). 

Later, when I went in my room to take out my contacts I noticed a couple of little piles on my bed. 

I realized that this is the load that was in the dryer when she added things to the washing machine.  Not only did she take them out of the dryer, but she folded them!  It was such a nice and unexpected sight.  A little blessing at the end of my day.

And King of All Kings,

Creator, Sustainer,

Provider of all things,

My Shelter, my Fortress,

A strong Shield and Tower,

Deliverer, Sovereign,

Full of all power,

My Peace and my Rest

And my Banner always,

Everlasting, our Righteousness,

Ancient of Days!

We can know you, our cries

To the heavens they rise;

We call you, you hear us,

Our Light and our Life.

You're Redeemer, our Savior,

The Author - I AM,

Our Comfort, our Healer,

The Word and the Lamb.

You reveal to the nations

Your love and your grace

In wonderful, humbling,

Mysterious ways-

Abba, our Father,

Our Shepherd, the Way,

The Refiner, the Potter,

Oh, we are your clay.

The Lion of Judah,

Living Water, I cry,

"Please fill my cup,

Quench my thirst lest I die!"

I call out to you

For I know I am weak,

I have fallen so far

And the pit is so deep.

You promise to save

And I cling to your Name;

You pull me from depths,

You remove all my shame.

Beholding your glory

I fall to my knees-

May the praise from my lips

Always rise, never cease!

Hear me, my God,

All you are, all you were,

All you will be, I claim-

you're my Rescuer.

You are my Rescuer!

All of a sudden I thought,"Because of what Christ did, it's as if I had never done anything wrong, in God's eyes."  It sounds like a crazy, bold, outrageous thing to say, but I think that it might be right.  What do you think?

(I am not trying to say we don't or haven't ever sinned...but regarding how we stand before God, we are righteous.  His righteousness for our stains.) 

2 Corinthians 5:21

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 

-Watching Christian run up to Eliana for a hug after school

-Serving them homemade chocolate chip cookies

-Eating homemade chocolate chip cookies

-Listening to the kids laugh, and scream, and laugh, and play outside

-The Chronicles of Narnia

-Math

-Just kidding about that last one