Something Beautiful

It is no great vision to see the ugliness of now. Anyone who can see can see it. "The material world around us appears to be the real world, but it is not." (Warren Wiersbe)

"The things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:18)

Eternal. Unseen. Invisible. Elijah, in referring to the Lord, called Him "the God before Whom I live". Hebrews 11 tells me Moses "endured as seeing Him who is invisible". They 'saw' what cannot be seen. They chose to live in the seen world by the facts of the unseen world. They saw beyond the veil. Their eyes recognized eternity and looked past the here and now.

I've been thinking about Psalm 16:6 lately. "Your boundary lines mark out pleasant places for me. Indeed, my inheritance is something beautiful." I've been thinking about it because it looks like my lot is not beautiful. Not pleasant. What I can see is dark. I read, "How great is the goodness You have stored up for those who fear You." (Psalm 31:19) But I don't see goodness. We are suspended between two worlds.

All this ugliness, all this death, all these days of darkness will give way before His Beauty and Life and Light. He makes all things beautiful in His time.

"He had no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see Him,
there is no beauty that we should desire Him.
He is despised and rejected of men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:
and we hid as it were our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.
Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows:
yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. "
(Isaiah 53:2-4)

It says He had no beauty. Nothing to desire. Despised. Rejected. Man of sorrow. Bearing griefs. Esteemed not. Stricken. Smitten of God. Afflicted.

But in another place, it says (and how my heart thrills to read it), "Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty: they shall behold the land that is very far off." (Isaiah 33:17) How are they reconciled? I think by which eyes we see Him with. See Him in the material, and it's sorrow and grief and affliction. See Him in the far off land, and you see the King in His Beauty.

"You will no longer be forsaken and hated, a city deserted and desolate. I will make you great and beautiful, a place of joy forever and ever." (Isaiah 60:15)

"The desert will sing and shout for joy; it will be as beautiful as the Lebanon Mountains and as fertile as the fields of Carmel and Sharon. Everyone will see the Lord's splendor, see His greatness and power." (Isaiah 35:2)

"They will be alive with new growth, and beautiful like olive trees. They will be fragrant like the cedars of Lebanon." (Hosea 14:6)

"For our light affliction, which is for the moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.
(2 Corinthians 4:17, 18)

Indeed, my Inheritance is Something Beautiful.

Physicians' Prescriptions

I've not been well lately. My prescriptions over the past month have multiplied excessively (to me, anyway). I've been pondering medical prescriptions and their side effects. The nausea, the interactions, the heart palpitations, the need for probiotics.

And I've been reading about blueberries. And strawberries. And salmon. And I've been thinking about God's prescriptions. I've been thinking about His recommendations, His gifts, His answers. And the Scripture: "The blessing of the Lord maketh rich, and He adds no sorrow with it." The food He makes tastes good, it makes me feel good, it promotes healing, and brings pleasure. The pleasure God offers is therapeutic without side effects. It heals without damaging. It's sweet without tooth decay. His pleasures promote health, well-being, peace of mind. We crave sweetness and convince ourselves that candy will fill the need. It coats our teeth and rots them. But good ripe fruit -- ah, the bliss. The sweetness, the vitamins, the toxin-killing antioxidants. You don't have to know anything about chemicals to benefit from them. And He grows them in our own backyards.

In the back of my mind, I have swimming so many applications to that. Man's prescriptions for happiness, fulfillment, health, peace of mind, success, pleasure -- somehow all end up costing too much, and the side effects make us sick. They create other needs. They interact in deadly ways with each other, and there are casualties. Death, and morbidity. But God's prescriptions bring life, and well-being, and fruit. And I can enjoy them guiltlessly. Pure pleasure and a clear conscience, too.

"Thou crownest the year with Thy goodness; and Thy paths drop fatness."
(Psalm 65:11)

"Thou wilt show me the path of life: In Thy presence is fullness of joy;
In Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore."
(Psalm 16:11)

"Oh taste and see that the Lord is good: Blessed is the man that taketh refuge in Him."
(Psalm 34:8)

The God Who Sees

I got a note in the mail from a friend the other day. She wanted to share something with me, and I was glad she did.

"Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you:
not as the world gives, give I unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid."
(John 14:27)

She also shared a quote from Oswald Chambers:

"It is one thing to go through a crisis grandly,
but another thing to go through every day glorifying God
when there is no witness, no limelight, no one paying the remotest attention to us."

She said, "God sees all that you do and all the trials you will go through. Whatever trial it may be now, He will carry you through it."

Yesterday I sat down for a minute to read from a sweet little book I own called Daily Bread. I didn't have time to read much, so I grabbed that.

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge..." (Psalm 91:4)

"I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress; my God, in Him will I trust.'" (Psalm 91:2)

This morning I read from Spurgeon's Cheque Book of Faith:

"'Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts.' I see that I can do nothing, and that all reliance on man is vanity. 'Not by might.' I see that no visible means can be relied on, but the force is in the invisible Spirit. God alone must work, and men and means must be nothing accounted of. If it be so, that the Almighty God takes up the concerns of His people, then great mountains are nothing. He can remove worlds as boys toss balls about, or drive them with their foot. This power He can lend to me. If the Lord bids me move an Alp I can do it through His name. It may be a great mountain, but even before my feebleness it shall become a plain; for the Lord hath said it. What can I be afraid of with God on my side?"

And the Lord keeps reminding me of this:

The joy of the Lord will be my strength
I will not falter, I will not faint
He is my Shepherd, I am not afraid
The joy of the Lord is my strength
The joy of the Lord
The joy of the Lord
The joy of the Lord is my strength

The joy of the Lord will be my strength
He will uphold me all of my days
I am surrounded by mercy and grace
and the joy of the Lord is my strength
The joy of the Lord
The joy of the Lord
The joy of the Lord is my strength

The joy of the Lord will be my strength
I will not waiver walking by faith
He will be strong to deliver me safe
and the joy of the Lord is my strength
The joy of the Lord
The joy of the Lord
The joy of the Lord is my strength

Logic

We prayed over a meal at my mom's house, and afterward, she teased Elisa, who had been chewing during the prayer. "Were you chewing?"

Elisa smiled and nodded.

"Do you think God can hear our prayers if we're chewing?"

"Well, I chewed quietly."

Thoughts on Equality

Without discrimination, God offers His mercy and the forgiveness of sin to every man who will put his faith in Jesus Christ. And with full equality, He requires each of us to repent of our sin.

The most hateful, discriminatory thing I can think of is to separate out one group of sinners from the rest and assure them they have no need of repentance. It's the spiritual equivalent of offering them a shower and herding them into a gas chamber. A church that puts its stamp of approval on the very sins Jesus bled to pay for is a church offering indulgences. The indulgences are worthless to those who receive them, and the church shares in the sins it approves. If God smiles on sin, why crucifixion? How could He offer His Son to die in agony if our sins are no offense to Him?

'Devotions' for the Sleep-Deprived

 This note is a compilation of an email conversation with several of my mommy friends. It's a little long, but I found the conversation a real encouragement, and thought other moms might also benefit. I tried to edit out some of the non-essentials.
It began with an email from my friend:

"All day long I have been thinking and praying about how to spend time with the Lord alone in the morning. As all of you know before you have kids, and even with just one, its fairly easy to set aside that time undistracted. Honestly, I have struggled lately with making it a priority. So since you all have little ones here is my question to you: How do you do it? Do you set your alarm and get up in the morning before the kids wake? Do you give them something to do while you are studying in a different room? Are you doing it during their nap, or after bedtime? I would really appreciate any help you could offer. The baby is finally on a much better schedule that is somewhat predictable. Thank you in advance. Oh and yes I know that things will be changing with her still under a year, and don't want to pressure myself into anything unrealistic. Just need some advice."

Another friend replied:

"I think I'm in the same boat you are: I don't have a set devotion time anymore and it is frustrating. I've tried having my quiet time while the girls are at the table having breakfast, but that ends with a huge mess for me to clean up and having to wait to have my breakfast till it's almost lunch. I was also unsuccessful at waking up early, or staying up later to get it done due to extreme sleep deprivation. The one thing I've found that somewhat works is sitting down with them and reading them a story from their children's Bible and then putting them at the table with crayons and having them draw a picture about the story. So far they haven't drawn anything about the story, but it will usually buy me about 15 minutes to sit and read something on my own. I've been trying to take whatever story is in their Bible and then reading it in my own Bible after. I wish I could say this works for us everyday, but realistically I'd say it happens about once a week. I also signed up for devotionals that come right to my email, so whenever I have a few minutes to check my email I can get a little boost throughout the day.

I'm really looking forward to everyone else's responses!"

I butted in:

"I haven't had a chance to read all the previous posts yet, but I wanted to say something anyway. I have found that the first year after having a baby, a schedule is unrealistic. If you have a baby that is up often at night, the baby creates exhaustion in Mom and Dad. You get what sleep you can, you feed everyone in the house, and you read a verse here and there. When they were tiny, some of them tolerated me reading my Bible while I nursed them. One didn't. I don't personally believe having a scheduled life is necessarily a spiritual life (although it certainly can be). I like to be scheduled, but every baby I have had has wrecked our schedule.

"Once my babies are about a year old, our life seems to fall back into place. We get regular sleep, we wake up at consistent hours, and do our dishes. For us, my husband gets up first, showers, and heads downstairs to do breakfast. He reads in the kitchen, and listens to teachings while I shower, and read my Bible up in our room. We get the kids up, eat together, and Daddy leaves. Bible is right after breakfast, followed by schooling. We're normally done by noon at the latest. If there's time left, they play. If not, lunch is right away. I put them down for naps (the youngest two at this point) at 1 or 1:30. The older two do something quiet for two hours. Dinner's usually by five. However, Sundays and Wednesdays are different. And Thursdays and Saturdays are different, because Jeff's usually home. I like a fairly consistent pace, but I think the main scheduled events for kids ought to be: getting up, eating regular meals, hearing God's Word, and healthy sleeping hours. And they need to play. One thing: our kids have to stay in their rooms till we're up. It gives us a little time and space for the Word.

"Don't forget that God loves you, He loves children, and He invented a family -- not to turn us into well-oiled machines, but well-fed children of God. Children are messy, slow people who still know how to stare at ants."

My sister said:

"My kids always wake up when I wake up, no matter how early I get up. Within minutes they are up, and with our schedule changing so often in the last year, I have not had a set time either, so what I would advise is for you to be ready. If they are watching a movie or playing quietly, sneak to a corner and open the Word. The dishes CAN wait. If the kids are quiet, take advantage of it. If you can't handle looking at a mess, get under a blanket, or face your chair to a wall. I have done this many times because I was too tempted to clean first, but by the time I am done, the kids are at my feet. But then when you are doing dishes or folding laundry, pray. Ask the LORD to speak to you in those times, and look for moments. Write out verses and place them on the fridge, over the sink, in the bathroom, and meditate on them as you work. I have been so amazed too, as I go through our children's Bible with the kids, how much the LORD speaks to me as I am trying to simply explain it to them. Do what you can to limit distractions: turn off the computer, turn the phone off. But be flexible. Sometimes I am not able to get into the Word alone until nap time, but at the point I am so tired I take a nap myself, so it is not until bedtime. So read with the kids, and ask the LORD to show you things. He is faithful.
"I read about some famous pastor's mother who would pull her apron up over her head and taught her kids when she did that not to talk to her because that was her prayer closet!
"I hope something from that helps."

I joined in again:

"I thought about how to answer this. I never want to discourage anyone from getting into the Word. We need it. But at the same time, I know we are often driven by the enemy to be discouraged because we are, in fact, mothers and not hermits. The scripture plainly says that the unmarried are the ones able to serve without distraction, and the married women have to worry about other things. Every house is different in how it functions due to job and child situations. Every time I have had a baby, the entire first year has been up in the air as far as a schedule goes. Some of my babies have been angels about lying in my lap nursing, and I've actually been able to read my Bible while I nursed. That was great. Others have been thrashers, jealous of every look I gave to anything besides them. I do not get up extra early. It wakes my household, and I'm such a night owl that I can't stay awake. Personally, a year after a baby has been born in our home, we find our feet again, and figure out how to do it. We have the baby in our room for months, and so it eliminates our room as a place of quiet to retreat to. A small house leaves few options.

"So: what has been working for us for some time is that my husband gets up first, showers, wakes me, and heads downstairs. He starts coffee and reads in the kitchen (or if he's able, out on the porch) while I shower. In the winter, I read up in my room while he makes breakfast. Lately, I've been reading out on my porch. The kids are not usually allowed out of their rooms, and have to play quietly (unless I'm on the porch, because they don't really disturb me). But see, I feel guilty admitting this arrangement, because my husband handles food in the morning. Most men don't. Jeff told me that he sees that as his way of washing me with the water of the Word -- providing that for me. But he starts work a little later than many men, and doesn't have much of a commute. And you can't tell a hungry baby to wait quietly. And I do my dishes at night, while he puts the kids to bed.

"Lani's reply was great. It was Susannah Wesley who did that, I think -- John's mother. She had something like eighteen kids. But I can't quiet my mind in a room full of noise. I feel utterly bewildered. Here's what I really want to say about all of it, though -- I keep coming back to this: The man asked Jesus, 'What must I do to work the works of God?'
And Jesus said, 'Believe on the One whom He sent.'
I can do that. I can do that in noise. I can do that in quiet. I can do that with a crying baby in my room. Because He didn't say, 'Spend an hour of quiet time in My Word every day.' He said to believe in Him. He made it possible for the busiest, most harassed, stupidest, smartest, most uneducated in the things of God to be filled with His Spirit, and accepted in the Beloved -- and that gives me devotion.

"'It is not by works of righteousness that I have done, but according to His mercy He has saved me.' The mothers in the early church did not own copies of God's Word. And they were righteous. They heard the Word corporately, as did the rest of the believers. Probably if anyone wanted to read the Old Testament scriptures, they had to go down to the local synagogue, and they might not have been too welcome. You think about it, you talk about it, you read it when you can, and you rest in the finished work that Jesus did, which leaves us with 100% free access to the throne of God. I write it on a chalkboard on my bathroom wall. I tape it to windows where the kids can read it, I put it by my sink and in the laundry room. There are four scriptures taped to my computer monitor. And my hope is in Him. I do not believe that abiding in Christ is reading a certain amount of scripture. It's existing in Him by faith. It's drawing my strength from Him. It's having my heart open to hear Him -- and sometimes He speaks through these distractions.

"He's spoken to me while I homeschooled the kids, while I changed peed-on sheets at midnight, while I was coaching a child through pooping on the toilet. He's answered my prayers for wisdom in what to make for dinner because there was almost nothing in the house. And it's that fellowship that feeds me, even more than a designated hour at a specific time. But when I notice that I need time in the Word that I'm not getting, I ask the Lord for help. And He shows me how to do it."

I added afterward:

"I read a great quote this morning I wanted to add, too: "The wholehearted believer lives consciously hidden in the secret of God's presence." (Andrew Murray; The Ministry of Intercessory Prayer)

"I want to grow in that. I know God is more interested in the position of my heart toward Him than the location of my 'devotions'. I can't remember if it was Elijah or Elisha (why did their names have to be so alike?) -- but one of them called Him 'The God before Whom I live' and I've thought about it a lot. Living in the presence of God makes all the difference in us. But we don't realize it. We're like that widow giving her last two coins -- she didn't even know He was watching her. And He was watching her with approval. Or (is it in Micah?) where the people of God spoke together about Him, and there He was listening in and having it recorded. I want to be aware of His presence, because that results in paying attention to Him. Moses 'endured as seeing Him who is invisible'. Enoch 'walked with God'. I love when I'm paying attention, and don't miss the little lessons His Spirit gives me even in the chaos.

"'And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness." (From Romans 8) We don't know how to pray, so He prays for us. I LOVE that."

My sister added:

"I had another thought also after reading Laura's note. For several years I was going through the One Year Bible, and the first several I enjoyed it a lot, going through all the different parts at a time, but I think my third year, I had just had a baby, and it became a work that I was doing. My attitude was such that I wasn't going to the Word to hear from the LORD, but I was putting in my time, and when I recognized that in myself I realized that I was feeling driven by that time line and I wasn't actually even thinking about or praying about the scripture I was reading. So I stopped going through that. I started just going through one book of the Bible and thinking about it and praying about it, sometimes only reading a couple verses at a time, over and over. So for me, I really have to be careful about my attitude. I seem to get caught up in doing works, but we are called to a relationship with Jesus, and He wants to have us attentive our whole day, not just during 'devotions'."

I added:

"Yes.
"George Muller was asked once how much he read every day. (I think it was him). He said he read until the Lord spoke to him. If it was one verse, it was one verse. If it took ten chapters, it was ten chapters.

"I have a very old book called "Daily Food". For each day, it has two verses and a four or six line hymn selection. I love this book. Some days, it's all I get."

The first friend replied:

"I am always surprised (though I shouldn't be) how the enemy finds new and creative ways to distract me from what is important. The Lord is doing such a work in teaching me right now about having patience, showing love to my husband and the kids, and really seeking Him in everything I do. I find so often that my mind is filled with to-do lists and projects, conversations and the what-ifs of life."

Best of Show

My Dad has been doing some work for us in our house. "I think Grampy's the best builder in the whole world." Isaiah said.
Elisa looked skeptical. "I don't know... What about God?"
"Maybe second best."
"I don't know..." She still looked doubtful. "What about the angels?"
"Well... maybe third best?" he tried.
"But what about spirit? Don't you think spirit is a better builder than man?" she said.
"Okay. Fourth best. But do you think workers are better builders than Grampy?"
"No."
There. It's settled.

Putting On My Cowboy Boots Of Faith

In 2004, Jeff and I left our two children with my parents for a week and went to Colorado to attend the wedding of a dear friend. While we were there, we found a pair of cowboy boots which we bought for Isaiah, who was almost three. I told him about them over the phone several days before we came home. They were brown and black. My mom told me he went around for days telling anyone who would listen, "I have new cowboy boots! They're brown and black." He had never seen them. But he had them. He knew he had them, because his Mom said they were his. I wrote a prayer in my journal:

Lord, give me that kind of faith. The kind that believes what You tell me, and walks around triumphant over the things that I 'have', but have not yet seen or possessed. Faith like a child -- like Hebrews 11.

Personally, I consider myself a realist. (I know that some of you unrealistic optimists have now mentally labeled me a pessimist.) If I have a trip to Disneyland planned, I try not to expect it, to avoid the disappointment of failing to achieve it -- in the event the whole thing falls through. The plane might not make it, you know. Storms could cause me to spend my entire vacation in an airport. Maybe I'll die before the date arrives. I just don't know. I do enjoy Disneyland if I'm there, I'm just not one of those people who gets all their enjoyment out of anticipation. I wait till things pan out before I celebrate them. But I would have been so insulted if my son had said, "Yeah, right. I'll believe that when I see it." And with God alone, the things that He says are all 'Yes' and 'Amen' in Christ. No 'what ifs' about it with Him. He speaks worlds into existence, and whatever He speaks IS. I can walk in those cowboy boots now.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
(Hebrews 11:1)

Grace and peace be multiplied to you
through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord,
According as his divine power hath given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness,
through the knowledge of him that hath called us to glory and virtue:
Whereby are given to us exceeding great and precious promises;
that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature,
having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust.
(2 Peter 1:2-4)

Conquering Kings and Slaying Giants

At my children's request, I have been reading Esther to them in our Bible time. This morning we read chapter two. As I read verse fifteen, something about Esther stood out to me, and I'd like to share it.

"Now when the turn of Esther...
had come to go in to the king,
she required nothing but what Hegai the king's chamberlain,
the keeper of the women, appointed.
And Esther obtained favor in the sight of all them that looked upon her."
(Est 2:15)

I was reminded of David, as he prepared for his battle with Goliath.

"And David said to Saul, I cannot go with these [all the armor of a warrior], for I have not proved them.
And David put them off from him.
And he took his staff in his hand, and chose him five smooth stones out of the brook,
and put them in a shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip;
and his sling was in his hand; and he drew near to the Philistine...
Then said David to the Philistine,
Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield:
but I come to thee in the name of the LORD of hosts,
the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
This day will the LORD deliver thee into my hand;
and I will smite thee, and take thy head from thee;
and I will give the carcasses of the host of the Philistines this day to the fowls of the air,
and to the wild beasts of the earth;
that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel.
And all this assembly shall know that the LORD saveth not with sword and spear:
for the battle is the LORD'S, and he will give you into our hands."
(From 1 Samuel 17:38-47)

Both David and Esther went to their battles shunning the devices of human victories. They left the props behind. They went in simplicity, trusting the Lord to supply their lack. Esther went to conquer a king -- simply, as herself, trusting God. David went to slay a giant -- simply, as himself, trusting God.

Lord, help me to go to Your work simply, as myself, trusting You. I don't want to clothe myself in the strength of man, but in Your strength. And I want to be clothed in Your beauty -- the beauty of holiness, not in the fashions of this world. For Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.

"...who through faith subdued kingdoms,
worked righteousness,
obtained promises,
stopped the mouths of lions,
quenched the violence of fire,
escaped the edge of the sword,
out of weakness were made strong,
became valiant in battle,
turned to flight the armies of the aliens."
(From Hebrews 11)

Thoughts On Unjust Fees

I hate government interference. I hate unjust fees, unjust taxes, and the oppression of the underclasses through bureaucratic fines. I hate auto registration fees. I hate use taxes. I hate the confiscation of private lands by the corporation that is the federal government in the name of 'preservation' for the masses -- and the subsequent charging of fees to those masses to allow them to walk in the forest. It strikes me as arrogant elitism to 'preserve' nature for the masses while making it unaffordable to the lower classes to enjoy it. It confines the poor to crappy housing in crowded places, with no view of the sky. But this isn't about that.

I've had friends and family who've gone as missionaries to less law-abiding countries than our own. I've been thinking about the extra money they are forced to carry with them to pay off corrupt officials. To bribe the police not to unjustly jail them. To pay not to be hassled at airports and traffic stops. As much as this annoys me to think of, I've been thinking about the fact that the missionaries are not citizens of those countries. Many of those 'fees' and 'fines' are not legally owed by the missionaries who pay them. But they are the cost of being in those countries -- on a mission. I am not a citizen of earth. I am a citizen of heaven. And while these unjust taxes at times make me boiling mad, the revolt against fees and fines and blood-sucking regulations are not my purpose here on earth. I can be caught up in the fight against them (and in my opinion, I would be absolutely justified), or I can get on with what I'm here for. I can remember I don't LIVE here. I'm only here for a little while. And the City I get to call home isn't like that.

Lead Me on Level Ground

We sang a song at our ladies' retreat that included the line, "Let Your good Spirit lead me on level ground." I was thinking about how we lead our children.

When I lead my two-year-old, holding him by the hand, I choose places he can go. I pick level paths, and I go slow. When I lead my four-year-old, I choose harder paths for her -- but not paths that are hard for her. I carry my children over steep places, lead them on level places, and let them run in grass. God shows no less care for His children in considering their needs, their abilities, and their joys.

Getting Home

I drove home alone today from our ladies' retreat. It was after noon, and I hadn't eaten lunch. I passed a number of appealing attractions -- antique stores, art galleries, a yarn store I like, yard sales -- and every time, the thought crossed my mind: 'I could stop for a minute.' Jeff didn't know I was on my way. He wouldn't worry if I got there later. But every time, I thought again: 'No, I want to get home. I miss my husband.' Just south of town, I passed a favorite junk shop, and the thought presented itself again. And again, I thought, 'No -- I want to see my husband.' In town, I passed McDonald's, and considered going through the drive-thru. My hunger had become pain. But again, I drove on. And then I had a lesson. My love for and longing to see my husband caused me to go on and look away from places I like to visit, to turn away from a quick fix for my hunger, and to look forward to home. When presented with temptation, my love for the God whom I serve can fill my mind so that thing looks less attractive. The hunger that I feel can be met at Home.

"It's not that I've already reached the goal or have already completed the course.
But I run to win that which Jesus Christ has already won for me.
Brothers and sisters, I can't consider myself a winner yet.
This is what I do: I don't look back, I lengthen my stride,
and I run straight toward the goal to win the prize that God's heavenly call offers in Christ Jesus. Whoever has a mature faith should think this way.
And if you think differently, God will show you how to think."
Philippians 3:12-15

Praying for Mom

Jeff was away for a few days. The first night, Elisa prayed, "Lord, please bless Mom while she doesn't sleep with Dad, even though she likes to."
Amen.

Confrontation

Last week I took the kids to the park, where I introduced myself to several moms, and our kids took off playing together. After a little while, Isaiah walked up to one of the mothers and said, "Why does your little girl say that you said she's not allowed to go to church?"

The woman looked puzzled. "What?"

He repeated his question. (The little girl was three.) The mother told him she didn't know why the girl had said that since they did go to church.

Later, in the car, I asked Isaiah about his conversation with the little girl. He told me he had asked her if she went to church, and she had said her mom told her she couldn't. "But she was just a little girl... she didn't know what she was talking about."

He said Elisa had asked her if she believed in God, and she had said, "No."
Talia said, "Are you a good guy?"

"NO!" The little girl ran away. When she came back again, Talia repeated her question.

The little girl said, "No," again.

Confused, Talia said, "Are you a bad guy?"

"No."

"Well, what are you?" Talia asked.

"I'm a good girl!"

Then Isaiah had told her she needed to believe in Jesus if she wanted to go to heaven.

She said, "I don't want to!"

At this point in his story, I said, "Isaiah, when you are talking to people about Jesus, you need to make sure that you aren't sounding bossy."

"I didn't sound bossy, Mom. I just told her that she needs to make a choice. Because God gives everyone a choice."

It's Just a Little Dirt

Isaiah dirtied his plastic sword outside. When we walked in, I told him to leave it outside. He objected.

I insisted.

He muttered something in exasperation, which I made him repeat so I could hear it. His indignation was apparent.

"Man! Some people think dirty things are unholy!"

I assured him I wasn't mistaking dirt with unholiness.

Jail Break

What animates the mind and body of a man? What secret substance immeasurable to science brings all this meat to life? Why does a well-fed, well-watered, unassaulted human being lie there stiff and cold with no physical thing gone from him -- yet he is gone? A chair does not cease being a chair unless something physical is removed from it. How can a man lie there with every organ intact, every cell still there -- and yet be gone?

Death is an intruder. It gained entrance unlawfully. Well, I can't exactly say 'unlawfully'. Death was let in. Eve traded Life (her birthright) for a meal. And not even a meal, really. Just a snack. A piece of fruit. Like Esau gave his birthright away for a bowl full of porridge. And in Revelation, those who accept the mark of the beast (for the ability to buy and sell food) gamble away eternal life.

And so, a man in full physical capacity, with nothing missing from his body -- no injuries, no blood loss -- nothing at all physically removed from his person -- lies there lacking everything that made him a man. His soul is gone, and his body will not survive the loss. All attempts at resuscitation are just desperate, begging tries at persuading the soul to linger a little longer. The man himself can't often convince his soul to remain with him. It's a wonder that sometimes a stranger's pleas and efforts cause it to stay another hour -- or day -- or month -- or decade. But eventually, Death always claims his prize, and like the Pied Piper, leads away the soul of every man like the children of Hamlin. Where do they go?

Only one man that I know of said, "I have the power to lay my life down. And I have the power to take it up again. No man takes my life from me -- I lay it down of myself."

If you had witnessed his death, you might have been tempted to join the soldiers who mocked him. "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!"

Or perhaps the criminal dying beside him: "If you are the Christ, save yourself and us!"

For even Elisha, that mighty prophet whose prayer raised the Shunammite's son from the dead, was apparently powerless when Death called him. In spite of the fact that his dead buried bones were power enough to reanimate a dead man thrown into his grave, Elisha could not say of his life, "I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again."

We might not take seriously the words the man said about his own power while witnessing the massive beating that men inflicted on him. He said no man takes his life from him -- and yet it was men who tore his beard out. It was men who nailed him to a cross and left him there to die.

You might be tempted to say, "Well, it was a nice thought -- pity he didn't really have that power. It seems Death won out in the end. Men did kill him." You might dismiss what he said about death, if it weren't for one more thing. On the third day after His death, He stood alive, speaking and eating with His friends.

In complete defiance of Death's call, He said to Thomas, "Reach your finger here, and look at My hands; reach your hand here, and put it into My side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing."

Apparently, just as He said, the power is His. For if He had the power to take His life up again, it stands to reason that He did, in fact, lay it down of Himself to begin with. And that lends credibility to (or permanently settles) all that He said on the subject.

"Therefore I said to you that you will die in your sins."

"Most assuredly, I say to you, if anyone keeps My word he shall never see death."

"I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish."

Interesting words from a Man who has power over Death -- a Man who could not be abducted out of life like the rest of us sooner or later are. A Man who can lay His own life down and take it up again of His own free will has some authority to offer me eternal life. I don't have to die in my sins. I can follow Death's conqueror into Life.

"I am the Resurrection and the Life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?"

In another place, He said, "Most assuredly, I say to you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God; and those who hear will live."

In response to this, I quote 1 Corinthians 15:54,55: "Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?" Be gone, foul intruder! Fly away, lurker of corners -- silent salivating watcher -- you uninvited observer at weddings and births! No more jurisdiction here -- your warrant's been revoked. Every man since Adam has answered when you called. You've taken our parents, our children, and our friends. You've robbed us all -- but your reign is ended. Christ conquered you -- do your worst: it cannot stick.

Meditations on Peace

I am not into the peace symbol, mainly because of its association with pot smoking and protests. But I was given a necklace that has 'peace' repeated across its pendant and stamped once on the back. I like the look of the necklace. I've been wearing it the last couple of days, and have found myself lost in meditations on peace. The first one that looped through my mind was just the phrase 'peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ'.

"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ:
By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand,
and rejoice in hope of the glory of God."
Romans 5:1

Peace with God?! It overwhelms me. In Christ, the constant state of war with God into which I was born has been made PEACE. God accepts me as a friend because of the position I hold in Christ.

Have you read Ephesians 2 lately? It thrills my soul and brings me to tears.

"For He Himself is our peace, who has made both one,
and has broken down the middle wall of separation,
having abolished in His flesh the enmity... thus making peace,
and that He might reconcile them both to God in one body through the cross,
thereby putting to death the enmity.
He came and preached peace to you who were afar off and to those who were near.
For through Him we both have access by one Spirit to the Father."
From Ephesians 2

"Therefore, He had to become like His brothers and sisters so that He could be merciful.
He became like them so that He could serve as a faithful chief priest in God's presence
and make peace with God for their sins."
Heb 2:17

He became like us that He might know our weaknesses, which He has mercy on.

"Peace I leave to you. My peace I give to you; not as the world gives I give to you.
Stop letting your heart be troubled, and stop letting it be afraid."
John 14:27

The peace the world gives is always strained. It is enemies held at bay by mutually assured destruction, or by threats of exposure, or by the conventions of society. The peace Jesus gives us with the Father makes us friends of God. I don't fear hostility from friends who love me. They love me. God loves me. He's at peace with me.

"Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,
that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost."
Rom 15:13

Speaking With Authority

Talia, who cannot read, is very fond of her small Bible, which has no pictures. She opened it up, and said authoritatively, "Let the wicked forsake my way."
She shut the Bible.
Amen.

To Drive Or Not To Drive: That Was The Question.

Yesterday afternoon, we drove to a town about two hours away. I had heard we were going to get hit with a snow storm, and asked Jeff to check the weather report before we committed to going. He checked our report, and cleared us for takeoff. When we were about an hour away from our destination, we started noticing snow. By half an hour before, the blowing and drifting slowed us down to 25 mph. Sections of road with fields around them looked like boiling dry ice, and gave us the sensation of driving on moving clouds. I wished we had time to stop and take pictures for you. It was beautiful, but made me really nervous. Jeff was supposed to teach a Bible study at 7, and it was only 5.

I asked Jeff, "Did you check their report, or just ours?"

"Whoops," he said.

He got done with the study, and afterward we tried to decide whether to crash at our friends' house, or hit the road. I checked the weather report. Hazardous Storm Warning; Travel Advisory; blowing and drifting snow; low visibility; sub-zero temperatures with arctic wind chills... you get the idea. I was in favor of staying till morning, waiting till the roads were cleared and we could see. I hate swirling-snow driving -- especially at night. Jeff wanted to go anyway. We packed up the car.

The snow was falling hard. I said to no one, "This is really stupid." We left after 9. We were taking a route we'd never driven before. I turned on the Magellan, got out my map to orient myself, took a deep breath, and told the kids to be quiet. We slid from side to side getting out of their driveway. We made it onto the road, and made our own tracks. Every once in awhile we saw a faint tracing of tires that had gone before. They disappeared quickly. My anxiety level was high. We don't have a cell phone, and these roads are not exactly in civilization.

The blueberry barrens (only recognizable by their white barrenness, and total lack of trees) are perfect wind corridors. The roads that travel through them can disappear in minutes, even if they have been plowed. Many of these had not been. In addition to the dry ice, moving cloud look I described before, the darkness at that time of night makes the snow that blows just an inch or three over the surface of the road look like dark shadows flitting about like specters. The snow is mesmerizing. It's like flying through space when it's snowing toward you.

About half way through the 45 minute stretch on this road, I thought, "No one knows where we are. If we have an accident, or a flat tire, or just can't find the road to drive on, we're going to die." It was a comfortable thought. Thinking on it, I grew more anxious. Then I thought about Hagar, when she was sent away from Abraham and Sarah, and sat down in the desert to die. She was in a different kind of deadly wilderness, but thinking the same thing as me, no doubt. The Lord showed her a well. The other time she had run away, the Lord had told her to submit to her mistress. She named the place He had spoken to her 'You-are-the-God-who-sees', because she said "Have I also here seen Him who sees me?" So I thought about the God who sees me, and hears my prayers, and I prayed. It wasn't the first or the last prayer. But I was comforted.

The only way we could tell we were still on the road and making progress was by looking at the Magellan. It slowly counted down the miles until the left turn on the next road. Oh-- I should mention that the first road is a steady climb upward. The other is the high road, so to speak. When we turned onto the high road, the Magellan said we had 64 miles until the next turn. It is the major trade route between Maine and Canada. So nighttime driving can always be expected to be with semis, which I also hate. The first one that passed us served as a snow blower for our van. The maelstrom of snow blinded us completely. By the time it settled down and the snow-dust cloud also dissipated, the semi was gone -- completely invisible in front of its rear snow-shield. Jeff grew quieter after that, and slowed down more. Two or three more semis passed us that night, and each time, we pulled over to the right and slowed almost to a stop. I tried to look out the rear window at one that was coming up, and couldn't see it. We turned on the wiper, and realized why.

Looming out of the dark whiteness, we saw the orange lights of semi trucks on the sides of the road, coming up. "What is that?" I asked. Jeff was quiet. We came slowly toward them. Two on the left, pointing up the hill we had just crested, a dump truck behind them, also stopped. And another on the right, on our side, pointing up the hill. We slowly made our way through them with our windows down, just in case anyone wanted to tell us anything. They were partly blocking the road.

"Why were they stopped?" I asked nervously.

"They couldn't make it up the hill." Jeff said, slowing down a little more.

Silas started crying, and a sign for a rest stop came up. I asked Jeff to please stop, if it looked like we'd be able to get back out again. I hoped there was an open bathroom, because I needed one. Two semis were in the snowy lot. We had passed another two or three in a turn-out. Jeff changed Silas, and I happily discovered an open, working bathroom. I thought if we couldn't get back out, we could at least shelter in this bathroom. But we got out. No more semis passed us, because the bottleneck we had driven through protected us. That was a blessing, actually. But it was nerve-wracking to see a little further down the road the lights of what looked like an endless line of semis stopped roadside on the left. I counted, as we drove past, at least fourteen stopped end to end. "They're talking to the ones we passed already, and they'll wait until it's open," Jeff explained to me.

Those 64 miles trickled out, a half mile at a time. At 11:45 our ETA was still 45 minutes out. When we were nearly home, Jeff said, "I'm going to be really sore tomorrow."

"Why?"

"From being tense."

"Well, you can't say I didn't warn you." We laughed.

We got home at 12:30. After hauling in kids and crap (diaper bag, knitting bag, plastic bag of extra clothes, purse the size of a diaper bag, two children's backpacks full of dolls and spy supplies, and various loose junk), I called my sister Bri to let her know we made it. Jeff asked me if I had seen the back end of the car. I shook my head. "You need to go look at it." he said. Puzzled, I walked back outside. The back of the van had no van showing through. It was like a wall of snow. My heart stalled for a second, as I looked where the tail lights should be. Just snow. I don't know if those semis that passed us ever even saw us. It was a sobering thought. I thought again about the God who sees me, and thanked Him again.

Jeff said, "That was really stupid."

"Can we please just stay next time?" I asked. (And next time, I'm checking the weather.)

"Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you, surely I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
(Isaiah 41:10)

Real Love

Under the influence of floods of warmth and good will, it's easy to look down your nose at older couples who have mellowed, as though their love is less than your flaming attraction.

What is love? Is it flowers and moonlight? Is it declarations on a billboard or a status update? Or is it something else?

Real love comes in tired and reaches out to help. It calls home to keep them from worrying. It doesn't have to put it on a billboard or a status update -- actions show it. Real love learns how to cook. Real love cares more about the loved one's soul than its own wants, desires, and "needs". Real love smiles and assures his wife that the horribly oversalted garlic bread "is fine", even though swallowing it will likely bring on a heart attack. Real love helps you walk stronger -- it doesn't pull you into sin. Real love stays home when going out is more fun. It goes out even though it would rather stay home. It sits through a football game though it HATES football, because he likes it. Real love turns off the game to give her the time she needs.

Bedwetters in the House of God

We have a persistent bedwetter in our house. Having been a bedwetter myself, I sympathize with her. She tried and tried not to wet the bed, but usually failed. She was so excited about nights she made it through, and so disappointed on nights she didn't. Wanting to see our girl succeed at what she attempted, Jeff and I took on ourselves the responsibility of bringing her to the bathroom around midnight every night. She doesn't even know we get her up most nights. Sometimes she'll say in the morning, "Mom, I didn't go to the bathroom last night, and I didn't wet the bed!" I smile, because I know her dad brought her to the bathroom, and without his help, she fails every time.

Several months ago, after she'd had a dry night (with our help), I realized that God's heart towards His children is that they succeed. He offers us the help we need because we are too immature to do it on our own. He finds joy in our joy at reaching a milestone -- even though it was His work that got us there. I don't know why one child at the age of two or three stays dry all night, and another is still wetting the bed at twelve. But I know both are loved by their father. And they both seem to mature eventually.

"We are afraid to take God as our tender Father. We think of Him as a schoolmaster or an inspector, who knows nothing about us except through our lessons.

"Now open the ears of your heart, timid child of God! We aren't supposed to learn to be holy as a hard lesson at school so we can make God think well of us. We are to learn it at home with the Father to help us. God loves you not because you are clever or good, but because He is your Father. The Cross of Christ does not make God love us. It is the outcome of His love to us. He loves all His children: the clumsiest, the dullest, and the worst...

"Think about how He knows us personally, as individuals with all our peculiarities, our weaknesses, and our difficulties. The master judges by the result, but our Father judges by the effort. Failure doesn't always mean fault. He knows how much things cost and weighs them carefully where others wouldn't... His great love understands the poor beginnings of His little ones, clumsy and simple as they may seem to others."
(Andrew Murray, With Christ in the School of Prayer)


A prayer: You who ask us to help others with their burdens cannot leave us to toil under ours alone. My responsibilities are too great for me to bear. Help me.

A Conversation

"How fat is God?" Talia asked Elisa.

Elisa's patience was thin. "Talia! I haven't seen Him! I don't know!"

Scattered Sheep

I've had something on my mind to write for a week or two, and have been mulling it over. A passage in my children's read aloud today pulled it together in my mind. We were reading from Mountain Born by Elizabeth Yates. A young boy named Peter was sent out to "shepherd" the flock for the first time. (A wise old shepherd remained close by, working at another task.) Peter fell asleep after lunch, the sheep dog was tending to an anxious ewe and her twin lambs, and the sheep scattered. When Peter woke up, the sheep were gone, the dog was gone, and he didn't know what to do. Benj, the wise old shepherd who had not been far, helped him to gather them and right it all.

"It doesn't take much to keep them together," Benj said quietly, "but once they get separated, it's a lot of work to bring them together again."

Jesus commanded us one major thing in regard to how we treat each other. Love one another. He said, "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34,35)

Romans 12 says, "Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil. Cling to what is good. Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another; not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing steadfastly in prayer; distributing to the needs of the saints, given to hospitality..."

I've been thinking about how love without hypocrisy ought to behave toward the body of Christ. Whenever bitterness comes in, we excuse ourselves from Jesus' commandment to us. "They wronged me. They're hypocrites." We exempt ourselves from this command when our brother or sister has hurt us, or wronged us, or paid us less than we were worth, or just didn't respond to our need that they didn't know we had. Their failure is all too evident to us. We see every flaw, because we're family to them. We know every mistake they've made, every time they've tripped. And we count their sins as worth twice as much as ours, because their mistakes cost us something.

Beloved, let us love one another -- LOVE is of God. Accusing the brethren is not of God. Love is of God. Preferring others over myself is of God. Kind affection toward my brothers and sisters is of God. Patience in tribulation is of God.

I love my husband. Shall I then make a long list of all his failures over the last 11 years of our marriage? Every sin against me? Shall I post them on a website's message board? Who is the hypocrite in love if I do that? I am. Love suffers long, and is kind. Love acts like Shem and Japheth acted toward Noah (they were blessed). Knowing him to be drunk and naked in the tent, they went in backwards to cover him -- to protect him from shame. It doesn't act like Ham, who exploited his father's failure: who mocked -- and told everyone he saw.

Love comes alongside to help lift a heavy burden that his brother is carrying. It doesn't watch him falter under it and post a picture in the news. I may be right in every assessment of my brother's sins, failures, and negligence. Where does that leave me? Will I act like Jesus, reaching out to heal? Or will I grab my camera and my notepad to document their wrongdoing and publish it abroad?

I was sickened to read lists of grievances online by Christians against members of the body of Christ. They probably didn't see it that way, because it was against "the church".

We were forgiven so much. Can't we forgive our brothers? So what if we were wronged? Does nursing my grievance serve Christ? When we forgive, we unite ourselves in action with Christ, who forgave us. When we make lists, and check them twice, and accuse our brothers, we unite ourselves in action with the accuser of the brethren.

There is a place to pour out our hurts and our anger. To our Father in prayer -- not to the world. Pour it out to Him. And if someone has sinned against me, Jesus told me to go to that person.

I am asked by the One who forgave me to forgive. How can I refuse Him? Are even His commands trumped by my measly little owie? Is my dignity of such value to me that when my Savior asks me to forgive my brother I will not? Have I forgotten Him? No one owes me a debt so great that my own debt to Christ is not bigger. And He took it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. Can't I nail my brother's debts there, too? It may be a real debt I am owed. SO WHAT? I owed more. Christ is worth more to me than the sum of all the debts of every brother who ever stepped on my foot.

"If he has wronged you or owes anything, put that on my account." (Philemon 18)

"Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by Whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil-speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. Therefore be imitators of God as dear children. And walk in love, as Christ also has loved us and given Himself for us..." (Ephesians 4:30-5:2)

"Now may the Lord direct your hearts into the love of God and into the patience of Christ."

"May the God of patience and comfort grant you to be likeminded toward one another, according to Christ Jesus, that you may with one mind and one mouth glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore receive one another, just as Christ also received us, to the glory of God." (Rom. 15:5-7)

Grabbing up the Gift

I'm sure you've all taken food samples from Sam's Club before.

Lately, whenever I've gone by those little sample stands, my attention has been caught by the people waiting for the handouts. There are two kinds: adults and children. The adults almost all walk casually up, and wait expectantly just within reach.

The attendant will say robotically, "Would you like to try _____?"
And the adult says (as though he is doing the attendant a favor), "Sure."

The children, on the other hand, run up to the person with their hands out, and blurt out, "Can I have one?"

I've contemplated the two ways of receiving a gift. The one is much more dignified. But the other is what God wants from us. I've often heard Jacob faulted in the Old Testament for his grasping at the blessing that was promised to him by God. Interestingly, of the two, it is Esau who was faulted by God. Willing to sell his birthright for a full stomach, he found no place for repentance. Jacob wanted what God had. Rahab wanted what God had. Tamar wanted what God had. And all of those people considered the gift of God of more value than their family relationships, their pride, their security, their homes.

"Assuredly I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:3,4)

"Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." (Hebrews 4:16)

Papa's Stories

In the last year or so, I have been really enjoying emailing my Papa. I started asking him questions about his life (since my acquaintance with him has been much briefer than his life). I've loved hearing about the farm he grew up on, the food his mom cooked, the snakes in the creek he swam in, the house that was taken out by a tornado while they weren't in it. We grandkids don't often think about our grandparents riding their own homemade rafts down muddy creeks into fences. Or sleeping in the kitchen on a cot. Or having fruit fights.

I've enjoyed hearing about his time in the service. And the first time he saw Grandma. My memories of Grandma include her jumping on the trampoline with us kids, and riding my bike when I was seven, so I wasn't too surprised by the stories about her.

I heard my mom's memories of her parents all my life, from the view point of a kid looking at adults. It's a blessing to hear their memories themselves.

If your grandparents are alive, ask them about their lives. I have enjoyed becoming friends with my Papa. Our lives are so much richer when we have something other than our own histories to remember. It seems to me like the 60's generation has been commemorating itself since I was born, and America began a long time before 1960. It puts some things in perspective to hear about them first hand.

Thank you, Papa, for taking the time to tell me your stories. I love them. And I love you.

Sister's Keeper

Talia is not permitted upstairs without an older sibling.
(This helps us to preserve our home intact.)
"Talia! Come downstairs! You're not allowed to be up there alone," I yelled.
After a pause, her voice drifted down. "God's with me, though."

Why Johnny Can't Read

I'd like to tell you about a difficult day in the pursuit of knowledge.

We began schooling after breakfast, as we usually do. Five minutes into our language arts (the first subject we tackled), I heard unusual crunching sounds and laughing in the kitchen. I looked suspiciously through the door and saw Silas sitting on the floor amidst the broken eggshells of our breakfast, gleefully smashing them and smearing them everywhere he could reach with a dirty rag. Talia watched, delighted. Lessons halted while I washed his hands and shooed Talia from the kitchen. One student was required to restrain the prisoner while I mopped up the Salmonella and took out the trash.

Ten minutes later, we returned to our schooling -- for five minutes. I was interrupted by Talia, who was sitting in an empty diaper box in the living room. Wide-eyed with guilt, she called out, "I peed!"

I ran to get her out, hoping to remove the box before it leaked onto the carpet. Snatching her out of the box, I set her in the laundry room. In the living room, I picked up the box and tried to transport it without spilling it. I wasn't successful. The box rained urine across the floor, directly over Silas (wetting his hair for him while he toddled obliviously after me). It drizzled through the dining room, through the kitchen --spattering the area I had just mopped the egg mess from), and through the mudroom out into the driveway. I grabbed my Clorox Ready Mop, put a new pad on it -- the eggy one had been thrown out-- and started with the laundry floor, moving through dining, kitchen, and mudroom. Stomping a towel on the living room carpet, I tried to soak up the urine. Several baby books had been sprinkled and had to be cleaned. I sent Talia upstairs to the bathroom, gave the older kids Cuisinaire rods and math pages, and scooped up Silas for a bath.
With the younger ones smelling sweet, and more time lost, I returned to my pupils.

The phone rang.

Silas toddled round and round the table saying, "Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-OH!" I tripped on shoes the baby had scattered in his wake.

Talia yelled, "Silas smells stinky!"

As I read about people of the world to the kids, Talia made herself conspicuous by standing in the living room and pointing behind me with a smile.

"What?" I asked. She intensified her pointing and smiling, and then pointed into the living room, too.

"What?" I asked.

"Dirt," she said.

I didn't understand.

"Dirt. Dirt in there, and dirt in here!" Her smile never wavered.

I looked around me to see handfuls of dirt sown through the dining room and living room. Silas was busily adding more. I plugged in the vacuum and vacuumed up all the dirt. Silas toddled fearfully away, crying in dread of the vacuum. Elisa spoke encouragement to him, taking his hand to lead him out of the vacuum's path.

By now, our obstacles had become downright funny. (At least, to me. But I'm easily entertained.)

Working for the Witch

I have been reading The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum with my children. I was struck yesterday by a passage in it from chapter 12: The Search for the Wicked Witch. Bear with me -- I have a point.

'The Wicked Witch was both surprised and worried when she saw the mark on Dorothy's forehead, for she knew well that neither the Winged Monkeys nor she, herself, dare hurt the girl in any way. She looked down at Dorothy's feet, and seeing the Silver Shoes, began to tremble with fear, for she knew what a powerful charm belonged to them. At first the Witch was tempted to run away from Dorothy; but she happened to look into the child's eyes and saw how simple the soul behind them was, and that the little girl did not know of the wonderful power the Silver Shoes gave her. So the Wicked Witch laughed to herself, and thought, "I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power." Then she said to Dorothy, harshly and severely,
"Come with me; and see that you mind everything I tell you, for if you do not I will make an end of you, as I did of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow."
...The Witch bade her clean the pots and kettles and sweep the floor and keep the fire fed with wood.
Dorothy went to work meekly, with her mind made up to work as hard as she could; for she was glad the Wicked Witch had decided not to kill her.'

There she was, kept safe by the mark of the kiss on her forehead, walking around in power she didn't know she had, and working for the Witch. Do you find yourself there? Do you know you have been set apart by the love of Christ? Have you been made a slave because you don't know the power you're clothed in?

"God's divine power has given us everything we need for life and for godliness.
This power was given to us through knowledge of the One
who called us by His own glory and integrity.
Through His glory and integrity He has given us His promises that are of the highest value.
Through these promises you will share in the divine nature
because you have escaped the corruption that sinful desires cause in the world.
Because of this, make every effort to add integrity to your faith;
and to integrity add knowledge; to knowledge add self-control;
to self-control add endurance; to endurance add godliness;
to godliness add Christian affection; and to Christian affection add love.
If you have these qualities and they are increasing,
it demonstrates that your knowledge about our Lord Jesus Christ is living and productive.
If these qualities aren't present in your life, you're shortsighted
and have forgotten that you were cleansed from your past sins.
Therefore, brothers and sisters, use more effort to make God's calling and choosing of you secure.
If you keep doing this, you will never fall away."
(2 Peter 1:3-10)

Serving sin is no place for a free person clothed in power.

About Holy In Christ, by Andrew Murray

Wow. Reading this book was like being on Daddy's lap. I hated to finish it. A few excerpts:
"There is no holiness but what He has, or rather what He is, and gives. Holiness is not something we do or attain: it is the communication of the Divine life, the inbreathing of the Divine nature, the power of the Divine Presence resting on us... When God calls us to holiness, He calls us to Himself."

"Where God is, there is holiness; it is the presence of God makes holy."

"Holiness is not something we bring to God or do for Him. Holiness is what there is of God in us. God has made us his own in redemption, that He might make Himself our own in sanctification."

"Seek not holiness in the first place in what you are or do; seek it in God. Seek it not even as a gift from God, seek it in God Himself, in His indwelling Presence."

"As we enter in and abide in the holiness of Jesus, it will enter in and abide in us."

"The more I see and have apprehended of the holiness of Jesus, the less shall I see or seek of holiness in myself. He will make me holy: my tempers and dispositions will be renewed; my heart and mind cleansed and sanctified; holiness will be a new nature; and yet there will be all along the consciousness, humbling and yet full of joy: it is not I; Christ liveth in me."
(Andrew Murray)

The older I get in the Lord, the more I appreciate the simplicity that is in Christ. I am not smart enough to remember all the steps to make myself good enough for a real Christian. And they have no charms for me. But I can remember Jesus, who gave Himself for me, and lives to make intercession for me, and invites me --ME-- to abide in Him, and He in me. And He wins me over every time I think on Him. His kindness towards me; His patience with me; His work on my behalf sweep my soul off its feet. His love for me is a mystery I do not understand. But I want it, and I am so thankful for it. This book highlights it.

God's Will and my Submission to it

I have been reading a book called Holy In Christ by Andrew Murray. I recommend it to all believers: it has been so edifying. This morning I read the chapter about Holiness and the Will of God. A few quotes stuck out to me, and I thought I'd share them.

"So long as we look at the will of God... as law, we feel it a burden, because we have not the power to perform --- it is too high for us. When faith looks to the Power that works in God's will, and carries it out, it has the courage to accept it and fulfill it, because it knows God Himself is working it out."

"An acceptance of God's will prepares the believer, through the Holy Spirit, to recognize and know that will in whatever form it comes... In accepting his circumstances as the will of God to try and prove him, he is in the right position for now knowing and doing what is right."

"He has chosen the will of God as his chief good, and has taken the life-principle of Christ to be his: 'I delight to do Thy will, O God.'"

"A life in the will of God is rest and strength and blessing."

"May this be the holiness in which I live, that I forget and lose self in pleasing and honoring Thee."

I don't know about you (although I have my suspicions), but I am so aware of my own self-will that rises up against doing the will of God. My spirit wishes me always to be doing His will -- and delights in it. But my flesh is always opposed to His will, whatever it may be. I was praying this morning for help to mortify the deeds of my flesh. I want to live in submission to God's will, to serve Him with the body and mind I live in. But I can't serve Him myself unless He abides in me, filling me. I need Him: His Life, His Strength, His Will working in and through me. I am utterly corrupt -- completely opposed to all the will of God. But Christ on my behalf has fulfilled it. As I live in Him, I am one with Him in purpose, action, and desire. Thank you, Jesus.

Awaiting Our Cue (From an Email to a Friend)

I meant to write to you weeks ago about our individual places in the body of Christ. I was watching a PBS thing about a symphony orchestra, and the Lord really used it with me to show me a few things. I pulled out my journal right there and began to take notes. It was right after I had become so discouraged about my place in the body of Christ, because I didn't like the ministry I have of exhortation (at least at times). I get tired of having to say things when everyone else gets to play the good guy and be well-loved.

So, first: a couple of verses He encouraged me with.

"The Lord looks from heaven; He sees all the sons of men. He fashions their hearts individually; He considers all their works." (Psalm 33:13-15)

"We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them." (Ephesians 2:10)

"Who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14)

About the symphony:

Every person had an instrument. Every instrument had a different part. Sometimes the same instruments had different parts to play than each other. Every member got his cue individually from the same person -- the conductor. When each member plays his own part, on his own instrument, the harmony of sound is beautiful -- unified beauty.
It would be so tragic if one part tried to copy another member's or instrument's part.
Sometimes a musician sits idle -- waiting for his part. He doesn't look very busy just then.
It's almost like the conductor plays the orchestra by his direction of it.
The parts are different -- some slightly; some greatly. Some are loud and solo, some are quiet and soothing. Some are part of a group of the same sound.
At the end, it is the conductor who gets the glory.

These things really ministered to me. I don't know -- Lani thought you might like to hear about them, too. We all have different parts to play in the body of Christ. Stillness is supposed to be time of waiting on the conductor's cue. Don't take your cue from the fellow workers -- they could very well be playing a different part, or another instrument all together! Play your own part well, on cue, and He will be glorified by it. And there's a place for your part -- even if you only get to bang the gong one time.

God Loves a Cheerful Giver

One day in May, I read to the kids from the last two chapters of Luke, and the first two chapters of Acts. When I finished, Elisa said to me, "I want to give all of my money and my heart to Jesus."

Isaiah, who told me he had given his heart to Jesus several months ago, said he also wanted to give all his money to Jesus. I asked them if they understood that if they gave all their money to Jesus, they wouldn't have any money left. I asked Isaiah if he knew that giving all his money away would mean he couldn't buy the Transformer he had been saving up for. He nodded. I told him he did not have to do it, but that if he did, the Lord sees what he gives Him, and He Himself would reward him. He insisted he wanted to. His prayer: "Lord, the only thing I want more than Transformers is You. And I know that Transformers are worthless to You."

For days, we studied the Samaritan's Purse gift catalog to choose how to give their money. Talia insisted she also wanted to give her money. She pointed at a baby held on its mother's lap in the catalog. "I want to feed that baby."

Altogether, their offering amounted to $23. I expected to see them miss their money after it was gone. Not at all. They seem joyful every time they talk about it. Sometimes they ask me again how many babies their money fed. ($9 feeds one baby for one week.)

Fear and Faith and the Price of Oil

My heart nearly stopped when I opened the mail and saw our new budget plan for oil and propane this year. It had gone up an additional $140 from last year per month. (It was already high.) It's now $10 less than our first house payment, which was only bought six and one-half years ago. I resorted to Lamaze breathing all day long every time I thought of it. I keep reminding myself that the Lord cares for me, and He is not limited by price. We must trust Him, because He is trustworthy, and He has never failed us yet.

I was fretting about a lack of money about 12 years ago. My dear friend Matthew said to me in his Texas drawl (in response to my "But it's $___!!"), "He has a lot more than that, y'know. My Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills." I've thought of it often over the years.

Our Father is the One who multiplied the loaves and fishes, who caused the widow's oil and flour to never run dry, and of whom it is said, "Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you." "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, make your requests known unto God. And the peace of God, which passes understanding will keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

I came across this verse out of Deuteronomy 8 as I pondered my needs and God's ability to meet them: "He humbled you and made you hungry; then He fed you on manna." Later in the chapter, it says clearly that His purpose was to do them good. God's purpose is to do us good. To feed us manna, instead of the bread that results from our work.

Why is that humbling? Because I can't do it. Because I need Him. Because it makes me a beggar of God. Jesus said we have to have faith like a child. A child has to ask for its needs to be met. A child can't reach the shelf the cups are stored on. If my children are thirsty, they have to let me know. They can't walk in so self-sufficiently to the kitchen, get their own drinks, and move on with their own plans in life. They don't have life insurance policies and 401k's and savings accounts. They have a father. They have to just be children, and Daddy will feed them.

The daughters of multimillionaires do not concern themselves with the price of oil or of food. It doesn't matter to them, 'cause Daddy's rich. My Daddy pays the bills, and I just need to remember it. And if Daddy pays my bills, it's a lot easier to not hold so tightly to the money in my hands. (If it's not my money, I spend it much more freely.) We needed something to lean harder on Jesus for. It always keeps us closer.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen."

Give Thanks

As part of our school curriculum, the kids memorized a Bible verse for each letter of the alphabet this year. When we finished 'Z', I decided to go back to 'A' and have them tell me all 26 in a row, if they could. It was Elisa's turn to say the 'G' Bible verse.

She hesitated a little, and then said confidently, "Give thanks in all circumcises, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."
(1 Thessalonians 5:18)

"Uh, that's 'circumstances', honey."

Anxious Prayer

I choke my prayer out,
gag my fear,
and catch my breath for you.
I force myself to
take a step
and brave-faced, walk in hope.
But in my heart I
choke and gag,
and I still hold my breath.

Syllables

NO!
Barren?
Without hope?
I'll have no child?
Not son or daughter?
No grandchildren either?
I cannot bear it.
What shall we do?
No laughter?
Despair.
Dead.

But-
What if...
What if God-
Maybe He would-
Have pity on us,
And give us our desire:
Laughter, sleepless nights and smiles,
Money woes and worries,
Adrenaline flush,
Hand-me-down clothes,
Hospitals,
Fevers:
Bliss

Why Everyone Knows Betty Crocker was Childless

Silas thwarted dinner all morning. No matter when I tried to work on the lasagna, his contentment immediately changed to a screaming tantrum. At 10:30 I browned the meat to the sound of his anger. I spooned baby food bites into his mouth in between chopping up onions to add to the meat. He doesn't like baby food. He doesn't approve of it. He objected.

When the meat was cooked and his complaining grew unbearable --okay, who am I kidding? His complaining was unbearable all along-- I turned off the pan and picked him up to change him and feed him the mama-nectar he adores, but had refused when I offered it before. As I nursed the baby, I read roughly 223 words in a book I'm trying to finish. That's more or less a half page. Silas prefers my undivided attention while he eats. If I speak to other people, read anything, or try to watch a movie, he yanks his head back, yells baby talk at me, stares any offender to shame, and grabs a page of any book or magazine I've held before him and twists and wrenches the page until it's crumpled. And he bites.

Once he had been appeased, I placed him on the floor to see if he would be happy. He was. He crept everywhere, happily playing with the cyclone debris scattered over the house. (These cyclones go through frequently in our parts, leaving toys, books, blankets, couch pillows, sippy cups and crumbs in abundance on our floors.) I thought the coast was clear. I made my move.

Once I'd escaped, I made sandwiches for the older kids and got them settled at the table. I pulled 2 eggs, 3 different cheeses and a mixing bowl out and set them on the counter. Within seconds, Silas started howling again. I put him in his walker in the kitchen, where he continued to cry pitifully at me. I tried to speak soothingly to him, but he was not soothed. His pacifier was missing.

I poured a cup of sauce into the bottom of my pan. Silas whined. I spread it around and laid lasagna noodles on the sauce. Silas whimpered. I smeared a third of the ricotta and egg mixture over the noodles and sprinkled a cup of mozzarella over that. Tears rolled down his face. I threw in a cup and a half of sauce and four more noodles. Another third of the ricotta and half the meat went in accompanied by his cries. Ricotta flecked my glasses. I dumped another cup of sauce over it. Silas got louder.

"Isaiah! Find his pacifier!" I yelled. He couldn't find it. I laid out more noodles, spread the last third of the ricotta mix, the other half of the meat, and some sauce. By this time, Silas was furious. I made Isaiah sit beside him to keep him company. I dealt out another layer of noodles, and emptied all the remaining sauce and my last cup of mozzarella over it. Silas was screaming like he was in pain. I covered the lasagna with foil and jammed it into the fridge.

The shattering crash of a ceramic plate on the floor of the dining room demanded my attention. It was Talia's delicate signal that she'd had enough. My discouraging response brought angry tears and moans from her, too. It crossed my mind that from the outside, our house sounded like a torture chamber-- full of shrieks and misery.

I washed Talia up and let her down. I grabbed a dish rag and wiped all the sauce and cheese off the counter. I took out the broom and swept nearly a quarter cup of junk off the dining room floor, shaking out the dustpan just as Silas began to quietly study the xylophone Isaiah was accompanying his song with.

But the magic ended when he saw me. Frantic with anxiety, Silas beat his fists in the air. I picked him up and carried him to the living room, where the cause of his desperation became clear: he had a teaspoon of pee in his diaper.

Pressing Question

Elisa asked me thoughtfully, "Mom, does your heart sometimes tell you bad things to do?"

I nodded. "Mm-hmm."

In wonder, she said, "That happens to kids, sometimes, too!"

Further Note on The Golden Rule

My children were quietly painting with watercolor paints while I talked on the phone. The quietness soon erupted into the sounds of conflict and unsupervision.

"What is going on in there?" I yelled.

"Talia and Isaiah are throwing paint at each other!"

I took the paints away, rebuked them both (but especially Isaiah), and was given an excuse. "Mom, Talia started it."

"I don't care. How old are you?"

He held up five fingers for me to see.

"And how old is she?"

Two fingers were held up, and he nodded his head sadly to indicate I was right, it was babyish.

"Do you think you ought to be following the example of a baby?"

He shook his head slowly.

I made him help me wipe up the mess. Still trying to find an angle, he tried again. "But, Mom, the Bible says, 'Do unto others what they--'"

I didn't let him finish. "Nice try. The Bible says, 'Do to others what you would have them do to you,' not, 'Do to others what they have done to you.'"

A Prayer

We joined Lani for dinner one evening, and with our six older kids gathered around the table, Isaiah prayed over the meal. His voice was earnest and gentle.

"Lord, thank You for this food, and please just nurse it into our bodies ... and help it to taste good." It put a whole new face on nourishment for us.

Do Unto Others

The kids memorize about one Bible verse every week. One of their memory verses is Matthew 7:12 (also known as the Golden Rule). A good paraphrase of it is: Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Sometimes the kids argue over the correct wording of their verses.

Talia said to no one in particular, "Do unto others what you can do to them!"

Elisa, always one to correct and instruct the erring, jumped right in. "No, Talia! It's, 'Do unto others what they have done to you!'"

Not quite what Jesus said.

Job Title

"Citizen Development" is the title I write in for my line of work on loan applications and other official documents.

I love that question: "Now ... do you work?"

"Uh, no." Why work when you could have a twenty-four-hour-a-day cycle of unpaid laundering, dishwashing, diaper-changing, nose-wiping, baby-rocking, toddler-chasing, meal-making, bill-paying, homeschooling, inane-question-answering, grocery-shopping, clothes-sorting and house-cleaning --- on three hours of sleep?

When I am asked, "Do you work?" I answer truthfully.

"Not for money."

What I find very funny is that in spite of the fact that all our income is Jeff's income, the credit union insists on listing me first, since I have the better credit score. I hope I don't lose my job.

Lead Me Not Into Temptation

Before I read the Bible to the kids one morning, I asked Isaiah if he would pray.

He bowed his head and prayed, "Jesus, help this Bible story not to be tempting, and help Your Word to be true."

Amen.

Tangible Truth

Isaiah said to us one morning (while looking affectionately at his baby brother), "Silas is really special to me. He shows me that God does answer prayers."
He had been asking God for a brother for two years.

The Recompense of the Wicked

Shortly after Silas was born, Jeff made a run to Walmart with the three older children. In the checkout line, the checker looked at him, at the three young children, and at the newborn diapers and other new baby purchases on the conveyor belt. She raised her eyebrows and said in a disapproving tone, "There's another?"

"Yes. Just born Tuesday," he answered. Jeff said she didn't congratulate him. He told me this at the dinner table, and it reminded me of what I had read in the Word recently:

"[God] rescues the poor from trouble
and increases their families like flocks of sheep.
The godly will see these things and be glad,
while the wicked are struck silent."
(Psalm 107:41-42)

I told my kids that not everyone values what God values.

I am the oldest of seven children, and the last five were born in four and one half years. We've made quite a spectacle for some time. When I was a kid, my family would go out together, and inevitably people would come up and make comments. There were two kinds of comments that we got.

Some people would exclaim what nice children we were, and how much they enjoyed seeing a big family.

But occasionally, some bitter-looking person would walk up to my mother and spit out how stupid she was for having so many children!

At this point in my story, Isaiah interrupted me (highly offended). "And did Mima kick 'em into the street?"

"What?!" I said, laughing. "No, Mima didn't kick them into the street! Why would she do that?"

"Well, if they were being mean..."

"Have you ever known Mima to kick anyone into the street?" I asked him.

"No ...but what should we do to them? What about putting something into their face and never taking it out of their face?" He really wanted guidance on what kind of vengeance we should take against these Mima-insulters.

"Is that what you think Jesus would do?" I asked.

"No..." Isaiah reluctantly conceded.

But Elisa piped up at this point (having a greater understanding of the just recompense of the wicked).

"He would put them into hell," she declared in her soft princess voice.

Amen?

Isaiah often prays very sincerely, "Jesus, please help us to not sin. We don't want to be sinners anymore. We want to do right things. Please help us to do what is right."

Elisa's prayer before bed one night included the following request: "And Jesus, please help the battery in Isaiah's new fishing game not to die. Help it to work. We don't want it to die. In Jesus' name, amen."

Am I supposed to say 'amen' to that? She was so earnest, and it was all I could do not to laugh.

Mama Envy

One day Isaiah said to me, "Mom, I wish I was a woman."

Thinking it was an odd wish to express, I asked why.

"Because I wish I could have a baby and push it out."

"Well, Isaiah, it is a pretty amazing thing. But it does hurt very much, and most men are glad they don't have to push babies out."

"Well, I just wish I could."

"There are also advantages to being a man, though."

As strange a desire as that is for a little boy, I'm glad to know that in spite of having had difficult deliveries, the attitude he's gotten from me about having babies is that it's awesome.

The Poor Are Always With You

We went to my mom's house one day to hang out with my sister, who was there with her kids. While we were getting ready to head home for lunch, Lani was beginning to feed hers. Isaiah hungrily watched Lani feeding cheese to Caleb. I overheard the conversation from the other room, where I was changing the baby's diaper.

"Lani, did you bring any more of that?"

"No, honey - I only brought enough for my kids. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were going to be here today."

Silently, he watched a little longer. Then, in a persuasive tone, he said, "But Lani... the Bible says you are supposed to help poor people."

Holding back her laughter, she said, "That's true: the Bible does say we are supposed to help poor people." And my soft-hearted sister let the little beggar influence her into breaking off a piece of cheese and giving it to him. I walked in just in time to see him take it with a smile.

"We aren't that poor, Isaiah," I said, laughing.

He must take after his dad, who used to sit outside the video arcade crying until some stranger would hand him money and pat him on the head.

Minding Our Manners

Not long ago, Isaiah was playing Barbie dolls on the floor with Talia (who mainly kisses them on the mouth and puts them to bed). Elisa played near them but alone, with an armored, camouflaged Hummer that makes machine gun noises. As she drove it around machine-gunning, she said in a ladylike high-pitched voice to the toys that were in the Hummer's path, "Extuse me! Extuse me, please."

Of Modesty and Men

My sister Lani and her three children were at my house last month. Her son Seth, who is 4, was hot. I told him that if his mama said it was okay, he could take his shirt off. Abby, his almost 3-year-old sister, asked if she could take her shirt off.

Trying to instill modesty early, Lani and I said simultaneously, "No. Seth is a boy, and you are a girl."

Seth said, "Why can't girls take their shirts off?"

I answered, "Because girls are special, and they have to keep themselves covered." Lani told him that girls grow into women with breasts, and breasts are private.

A little while later, Seth turned to his mom and said, "Boys aren't special."

At once, we both said, "Boys are very special - they're just special in a different way than girls."

"But boys aren't as special as girls - and we can take our shirts off," he insisted.

"Boys are just as special as girls. But they're different," I said. "Boys usually grow bigger muscles than girls, and can lift much heavier things." Finally, a smile.

Isaiah listened quietly to this whole conversation, and apparently thought about it for 12 days. Then in class at church one night, he pulled up his shirt to expose his navel to the class. When the teacher had persuaded him to put his shirt back down, he stated very loudly, "I can take my shirt off because I'm a boy. But girls have to keep their shirts on 'cause they have breast-es."

Looking Beautiful

Elisa was prancing around in her princess things the other day, and said, "Do I look beautiful, Mom?"

"You do look beautiful, Elisa. Do you want to know what God thinks is beautiful?"

She looked curiously at me. "Does He think headbands are beautiful?"

"I don't know. But in the Bible it says that He thinks a gentle and quiet spirit is beautiful."

"Oh. But I don't want one of those."

(That's precisely the problem, isn't it?)