Tag Archives: grace

To Be Blessed

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IMG_2452Sometimes… you just have to share the encouragement in your life…

Last night my 2 youngest kids (ages 18 and 20) came into my home office around 1030pm. I was writing and they were totally interrupting, but I learned a long time ago to lay everything aside when your young-adult kids want to talk.

They were just chatty, silly even. They just wanted to be with me, which I love. They’ve both struggled a LOT this year, so this sweet, normal slice of life was good to see. My son (the 20 year old – who was about 7 in the photo above) was playing his guitar, asking me to listen to some new things he was working on. This is a particular gift to him, because this has always been a particular irritant to the abuser in his life – he hated when my son would just mess around on the piano or guitar, especially if it interrupted his tv watching…

I taught my son the first few things he needed to learn on the guitar, but he has far surpassed my abilities. He knows, however, that I love to listen and learn from his ‘working stuff out’. So he will often say, “hey, Mom – listen to this…” and play some bit that he’s finally mastered. Last night, he showed me a complex fingering and strumming combination he figured out. It was a sweet moment.  I said, “look at the amazing skill God has worked into your hands!”

Then I looked down at my own – tired, wrinkly, worn. I let the regret that had been building during a rough day slip out and said, “I used to have nice hands, but like so much else they’ve just been used up.” My son stopped playing and, in all seriousness said, “Mom – your hands are beautiful. I LOVE your hands!”

Then he got up, came over to where I was at my desk, took both of my hands in his and with a rare glimpse into the tenderness of his young-man heart, he looked me in the eyes and said, “Mom – these hands have taught me so much. They’ve taught me all the good things I know. These are the most beautiful hands I’ll ever know. They’re not used up – they’re just showing how much you’ve loved us and given to all of us. They’re beautiful Mom, don’t ever think otherwise.”

It was tender and sweet and so encouraging. It was a moment to savor and store up in the treasure of good memories we are trying to build together. It was especially beautiful because it was spontaneous and so heart-felt.

All three of us reveled – and shared – in the sincere encouragement that was given.  That’s a wonderful thing about encouragement, isn’t it?  It’s contagious.

His heart-felt blessing to his Mama opened the door, too, for the conversation to shift to both of them sharing deep hurts they are working through, but also deep thoughts they are wrestling with God over. It was profoundly moving to sit there with these two young souls whose suffering is shaping them, too. This journey is being used by God to shape my kids’ stories, too. I was blessed by what my kids shared with me last night, and as I reflected on what they’d said, I realized that they will be able to bless others in due time with what they are learning and becoming because of all of this. It can be brutal to watch your kids struggle. But moments like these show that much can be happening beneath the surface.

These hands have worked hard to bless my family – and I don’t regret a moment of that. My son rose up last night to tell me how I have blessed him through that loving service, but in doing so, he blessed more than he will know for a long, long time. I suspect, however, that in genuinely blessing me, he went away blessed as well. That’s how blessings go, isn’t it?  They multiply.

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When Ripples of Sin turn to Waves of Grace

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I’m currently drowning in a sea – one that I did not want to be swimming in let alone drown in.  I didn’t want to have the billows overwhelm me.  I didn’t want to be gasping and choking for breath.  But I am here, and I know enough to know that these billows are sovereignly appointed ones, meant for my refinement, strengthening, and cleansing.

The sea I’m taking great gulps from as I struggle to keep breath in my lungs and my head above the surface is the fallout of sin.  It’s called the Sea of Painful Consequences.  Aftermath.  Carnage.  And while I’ve made plenty of my own cesspools of filthy, disgusting, wretched piles of careless, willfully arrogant, loathsome sin, this sea isn’t my doing.  It was done to me.  I can’t fix it.  I can’t repent of it and ask Jesus to clean it up.  I can’t make amends for it or beg someone else to forgive it.  I am victim to it.  And yes, I still see it as sovereignly appointed for my ultimate good.

But I must admit that I have struggled – really struggled – with watching how the ripple effects of this mess have affected so many more people than just me.  My children, their friends, my pastor and elders and their families, my community group – my whole church has been affected.  Friends, family, co-workers – it seems there isn’t anyone my family knows who hasn’t been tainted by it.  And we know a lot of people.

I have been grieved to hear how young women who I have mentored are struggling with watching it happen.  “If it can happen to you,” they say, “it could happen to… anyone.”  I have winced as I’ve listened to precious loved ones tell of their pain and sorrow and ongoing struggles with the unanswered questions…why?  How?  What for?   I have wept at the profoundly deep and far-reaching effects that the sin of one individual has had on so many, many people.

“Lord!”  I’ve cried.  “Please stop this!  Please contain it!  Please prevent it from continuing to spill over into cup after cup after cup!  It’s one thing to have been ripped apart – I hate it, but I can bear it if that’s what you want.  But does it really have to hurt them, too?”

But that is how sin is, isn’t it?  It’s so much more vile and destructive than we ever want to think about, much less admit.  It is, admittedly, easier to see this when it’s the result of someone else’s sin.  But our sin – yes, my sin and yours – has the power to destroy life.  And every life it touches is stained and soiled by its polluting mess.  We mess our own lives up when we give into wickedness – but we mess a whole lot of other lives up as well.

It ripples and ripples and nothing stops its effects until it spends itself fully and wastes everything in its wake.  Watching it from a front-row seat has sometimes caused me to be given over to despair.

But I’ve recently learned something about God, as he’s been teaching me about the hard, ugly reality of sin.  And that is this:  where sin abounds, his grace abounds all the more.

When one of my young friends was talking to me recently, shedding tears because of the pain that this sin has caused her, I was sad – so sad –  that my mess has touched her, too.  I cried and silently prayed, “Lord, help her.  Why should this sweet young mom have to struggle like this when she has nothing whatsoever to do with what has happened?”  I told her how sorry I was that this was hard for her, and wished with all my heart that she didn’t have to bear any of this burden.

But God spoke to me in the next second when she said, “But don’t you see?  God is showing me things I never would have seen before through this.  He’s showing me how to pray in ways I didn’t know I should pray, and he’s giving me insight into sin that I don’t think I’ve ever even thought about before.  Watching you walk through this is teaching me.  Your faithfulness is encouraging me.

And I realized in that moment that this is how our good God works.  This is how grace abounds even more than the sin.  He takes our filthy, tangled sin messes and uses them to reveal to us that his mercy is greater.  He can take those ripples of sin and make waves of grace come from them.  He can use one man’s sin to reveal himself and his patient, merciful, kind, and gracious character – to many –  in greater measures than the sin can ever destroy.  He can teach and grow and strengthen and mature through it all in a way that overcomes it all.

And isn’t that exactly what he’s done?  Sin entered creation through one man.  And it has been passed on to each and every one of us, because we all sin.  But God doesn’t let that be the end of the story.  He changes the death-sentence-endings through grace and replaces them with life.  “For if, because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.”

Grace is bigger than sin because God is bigger than sin.  Grace is more powerful than sin because God is more powerful than sin.  Grace is able to breathe life into dead things – dead people – because God delights to breathe new life into cold, dead, broken hearts.  Grace and mercy and provision and care is the end of the story – not overwhelming pain and sorrow and sadness.  They last for a while – and they are, indeed, exceedingly painful.  But they do not have the final word.  God does.

In the end, love wins because God has already won.

Love wins by turning ripples of sin into waves of grace.

Love wins.

The Gospel through the dishes…

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My kids help with the chores around the house.  They have alternated between rotating the various household chores among themselves daily, weekly and monthly.  I’m flexible, as long as the chores are getting done in reasonable fashion.

But sometimes they don’t.  Sometimes, believe it or not, my kids are wicked and sinful.  They rebel against simple requests like taking the trash out or vacuuming a room, but the worst one lately has been the dishes.

Actually, it’s not just lately – it’s been for months.  And truthfully, it’s really only been one child.

So, in order to help this child learn the valuable lesson of responsibly doing what he’s called to do, whether he “feels” like doing it or not, we gave him the gift of doing dishes – all of them.  Every day.

The deal was that if he could keep up with the dishes in a reasonably responsible way, then we’d go back to rotating the job between kids.  At first we said a month.  That was torture.  Then we said two weeks.  That was torture, too.  Additionally, he then deteriorated into such horrific whining and complaining that we felt we had a new problem on our hands in addition to the old one.

We brought out the big guns.  “Son,” we said, “since you have been both irresponsible AND complaining about all of this here’s the deal: you have to clean the entire kitchen on your own.  You have to keep it clean for one week straight and then you’re done.  BUT, every time you either do a bad job, need to be told to do it, or complain about doing it, your week gets extended.  The choice is yours.  If this gets extended, you are choosing to have it extended.”

That was about 2 or 3 months ago.

Sigh.  Heavy, heavy, sigh.

I’m no shrinking violet, but even I couldn’t stand this arrangement any more.  We shortened his prison sentence, but I let him know with absolutely clarity that it was grace, and grace alone, that was getting him out of paying his debt to society.  He hadn’t earned it and he knew it.

That was last week.

One happy, blissful week later, another child and I were having a discussion about salvation.  We were talking about how we can’t do a hundred good things to make God happy with us.  We can’t do a million good things to make God happy with us.  There is no way for us to make God happy with us!  We can’t pray enough, read the Bible enough, go to church enough – nothing we do can be enough to make God happy with us.  Even the ability to have faith to believe all that Jesus has done on our behalf is really God’s gift to us, not our gift to him.

And the clouds parted and the angels sang, because then this child looked at me and said, “Like ______ getting off of kitchen duty!  He tried and tried but he just couldn’t do it himself – you had to show him grace!”

Yes, child.  Grace.  Unmerited reward.  The Gospel is clear even through the dishes.