A People in Constant Motion Yet Unmoved

I'm a runner--of sorts.  Not the half-marathon-constantly-training-cool-running-shoes-kinda runner.  I'm more of the sleep-in-my-sports-bra-roll-out-of-bed-shove-on-my-shoes-jog-for-thirty-minutes-come-back-drink-coffee-kinda runner.  I do it because I need exercise.  I try to run five days a week.  On the sixth day, I try to take a walk, and on the seventh day, I rest.  Recently, though, I've read several articles and even listened to my doctor discuss the current research that suggests running every day may not be the best thing for your body.  And part of me is like, "Really, ya think?"  A pulled hamstring, a pulled oblique muscle, grouchy knees and strained tendons this year are just a few of the reasons why I have a sneaking suspicion there's probably some validity to the idea that daily pounding the pavement may not be what our bodies were designed for.  (And for all you veteran runners out there.  Shut your pie holes.  I know you're supposed to stretch, wear good shoes, etc.  I'm gonna start that tomorrow!) But in truth, sometimes I feel like my entire world is the same--constantly pounding the pavement.  And I can't help but wonder if we have a few pulled muscles, a few strained tendons because of it.

It is like we are a train at full tilt, an airplane careening through the heavens, a full on battle charge complete with war whoops, galloping horses and the pounding of hooves.  Always pounding hooves. My husband's, my children's, my own.  The constant cacophony of crazed feet keeping time to an even crazier schedule.  Whatever I liken our life to, it must be in constant full-throttle motion to be even remotely accurate.  We are a family on the move.  And I know we aren't unique.  In fact, I think we probably appear to be in slow motion in comparison to other families.  Just the other day, I overheard a conversation where one mom admitted to another mom that she hadn't looked at her daughter's homework in weeks because they had been so busy with other activities and responsibilities that she simply hadn't had the time.  I wanted to whisper in her ear, "I feel your pain, Momma.  I feel your pain!" 

I wonder though, if motion is one of Satan's greatest allies in disabling a follower of Jesus--not just any motion, but motion without a refined, focused purpose.  After all Jesus did call us to be 'doers of the word and not hearers only.'  So motion itself isn't wrong, and that's good since I'm perpetually moving.  But what seems to happen is that we buy into a mindset that insists activity and entertainment are our divine purpose and right. We have this notion that good parents enroll their children in everything.  If our kids are interested, give them the chance to explore it fully.  And it doesn't sound wrong even as I type it, does it?  And for goodness sakes, we mustn't forget that good kids are busy kids, so we arrange sleepovers, parties, and play dates.  Our youth ministries are overrun with game nights and lock-ins because we need to keep our kids out of trouble, right? (Yet apparently almost 90% of them will leave church within their first year of college.  So how's that working for us?) It's the motion movement we've bought into; yet we're all limping along with pulls and strains; and man alive are we ever thirsty.  So are our children.  Thirsty for the Living God.

"Why do you search for the living among the dead?"

It was a question the men at the tomb asked the women who came to treat Christ's dead body with spices.  See, they were behind the eight ball.  They came to treat a dead body.  It wasn't until the men asked the women that question that scripture says the ladies remembered what Jesus had told them about His purpose.  He would fall into the hands of sinful men, be crucified, and rise again the third day.  He was done with the dying and onto the rising.  Jesus had a focused plan, and he stuck to it (Luke 24).  But we aren't aware of His plan, or like the women, we've forgotten it. The result is that we too are searching for the living among the dead.
And I'm left to ask not "What is my plan," but . . .

What is God's plan for our family? 
What is God's plan for our sports-loving-book-inhaling-thirteen-year-old? 
What is God's plan for our tree-climbing-animal-adoring-ten-year-old? 

We say we "just want the very best for our kids," but I wonder if we really mean it.  Because isn't the very best synonymous with God's plan?  And if we're really wanting to cut to the chase, aren't we a little too busy pursuing the very best to stop and ask God what His plans are for our children?

Wasn't Francis Chan onto something when he said, “Our greatest fear should not be of failure but of succeeding at things in life that don't really matter.” 

In the end, maybe daily running on the treadmill of a society that is convinced that more is more, that bigger is better, that lessons and sports and clubs and involvement equal success, is causing more damage than good. 

Could it be that we're missing God's plan while we act like hamsters in a cosmic cage? 
Could it be our children don't need to be entertained, rather they need to be enlightened? 
Could it be they need to know they weren't placed on earth to get great grades, go to great colleges, embark on promising careers, marry, make babies, buy a house and live happily ever after? (And don't misunderstand me here, I'm not saying those things won't happen along the way.  I'm just asking if it is possible that we missed the main point?)
Could it be?
Could it be we ourselves need the same enlightening?

Because there is an entire world out there in desperate need of our assistance, and if we are busy balancing a life on a blasted treadmill, we can't help them.  We're incapable of doing both.

So while we run . . .
While we race . . .
While we entertain . . .
While we keep busy . . .
While we give our children opportunities . . .

Almost half a million children in the US live in foster care. 100,000 of them cannot return home. Ever.
More than 150 MILLION children have lost one or both parents to AIDS, disease, poverty, etc.
At least 3.5 MILLION children die each year because of malnutrition related diseases.
55 million unborn children are killed every year via abortion, 105 per minute. 3 per minute in the US.
Approximately 15 people die per minute due to nutrition related illness.
209 MILLION people do not have any scripture in their language.

 . . . people die, and they don't know God.

But, in the meantime, our kids got into the right University because they had a great transcript, lots of activities, and high SAT scores. 
We're busy chasing the proverbial American Dream and teaching our children to do the same.  In short, we're the guy in Jesus' parable of the talents that buried his in the field.  We're burying the greatest resource God has given us--our lives--under a mound of worldy pursuits and earthly treasures.  But it is never enough.  We're never satisfied.  We hunger and thirst for more.

"My food," said Jesus, "is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.(John 4:34)

Are we hungry and thirsty because we aren't eating the right food?
And just what is the will of him who sent Jesus?  Really? 

We have come to know love by this:  that Jesus laid down his life for us; thus we ought to lay down our lives for our fellow Christians.  But whoever has the world's possessions and sees his fellow Christian in need and shuts off his compassion against him, how can the love of God reside in such a person?  Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue but in deed and truth. (I John 3:16-18)

We have come to know love by this:  that Jesus laid down his life for us; thus we ought to lay down our lives for our fellow Christians. 

And for whom have I laid down my life?  For whom have I said, I'll forgo what I want so they can have what they need?  For whom?  Because if I'm gonna be honest, there's a part of me that doesn't want to raise my hand and volunteer as a foster parent.  I'd rather not go back to diapers and diaper bags, bottles and burps.  I'm finally past that.  And what if they have problems?  What if they're disturbed because of what they've been through?  It could get messy, could get inconvenient.

Carrying the cross wasn't convenient for Jesus, and yet . . .

But whoever has the world's possessions and sees his fellow Christian in need and shuts off his compassion against him, how can the love of God reside in such a person? 

And for whom have I surrendered my possessions?  I wonder what inheritance Jesus left for his siblings to divide?  I'm kinda guessing none.  Yet isn't that the thing that concerns us if we're being truthful?  We want to amass some little something here on earth so we can leave it for our wee ones.  We want to save enough to go on trips, to travel the world . . . or at least to Florida.  We want to add a pool, pave the driveway, buy, consume, take, hold for ourselves. 

Storing up treasure in heaven means surrendering earthly treasures . . .

Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue but in deed and truth.(I John 3:18)

And isn't this the crux of it all?  The answer to the  motion problem?  It isn't that God has told us to remain inert.  Indeed, He called us to action.  But the focus, the purpose of that action? 
Should not our strides be specifically aimed?  Should not our motion be in the direction of Love? 

Love won't leave us with pulled muscles, in fact it will expand our muscles, expand our hearts.
Love won't leave us with strained tendons; it will be a balm to the strains of others.
Love won't leave us with aching knees; it will lift a world brought to their knees by a life apart from God, to their feet.

Love walks.
Love runs.
Love prays.
Love builds.
Love gives.
Love feeds.
Love refrains.
Love pays fairly.
Love mends.
Love translates.
Love sacrifices.
Love lays down one's own life.

I wonder about those two bombers in Boston.  I wonder if they ever came in contact with love.  I wonder if there was a free camp like the one here in the mountains where my family is privileged to help during the month of July--a place where children come and experience the unconditional love of God--would it have made a difference?  Had one person brought LOVE to them, could it have changed everything?

Because in a world where people are constantly running, love moves too.  Moves hearts.  Moves lives.  Moves people to step off the treadmill of American Dreams and into the reality of lives lived for eternity.  One accomplishes nothing that will last.  The other accomplishes things imperishable.

Once, Joseph and Mary lost Jesus as a youth.  When they found Him, He spoke the now infamous line:  "Don't you know I'm to be about my Father's business?" (Luke 2:49)

Our Father's business is The World.  And He deals in only one currency.  Love.

Father, help me to move in your wake, to move in focused, purposeful ways.  Help our family to have the sole goal of being about your business.  Redirect, guide,hem us in, and strengthen our limbs for the journey.  Amen.

But A Vapor

In January of 2008 I dreamt of death--my own. What a rumbling within my heart ensued in the days after that night! To stare into the reality that our days are not without end is unnerving, shocking even. I think of the movie "Bucket List" and songs with lyrics like, "live like you were dying." Their message like strokes of bold red on a white wall scream out the truth of our mortality. Yesterday I had my annual physical. The cholesterol came back good, the blood counts were fine, my foot still involuntarily jolts when my knee is tapped by the rubber mallet thingymajig. My sugar was a touch high, but when the lady asked me if I had a healthy diet, I failed to mention the Chic-Fil-A vanilla milkshake that served as my lunch on the way down. Instead I mentioned my organic garden; she seemed happy. Those organic carrots really raise blood sugar levels, I hear! I walked out of the Dr.'s with an A+ for health and the promise of many more good reports. But what if it had been different? What if, when she listened to my heart she heard a flutter or pause that shouldn't have been? What if when she checked for lumps she had come across one so stationary that she knew it could mean only one thing? What if she looked me square in the eyes and said in a gentle tone, "It isn't good, Sarah." What then? Would anything change? Tomorrow, I will spend time with someone who is in fact dying--shedding that mortal shell that carries our soul for a parenthesis on earth amidst eternity's ceaseless timeline. And I wonder, when she got the news, did anything change? I keep thinking of this lady's life over the years. I remember her since I was about 12. Just shy of 25 years I've watched her be the same--watched her love, watched her pray, watched her encourage, watched her stand beside her husband, watched her touch the lives of those around her, watched her perpetually worship. I'll most remember her as a lady among ladies, and one who loved her God. How would I be remembered? Really? Part of me wants to say, "Wait, I'm still working on that. Don't remember me yet. I need to tweak a few things first." My boys are young, my bill of health is good, my days are filled with schooling, gardening, cooking, neighboring, friending, daughtering, sistering, organizing, planning, laundry ( I should list that twice) dog training, bill paying. Filled. I feel, most of the time, like the carry-on I packed for a trip to Maine a couple years ago that was supposed to hold everything I needed for an entire long weekend. Or like a laundry basket that's been filled with water--it leaks everywhere. There's so much in my little sliver of life that I can barely keep all the ends tied let alone t's crossed and i's dotted. It's a tender time, I think, because my life won't be swollen and full and bulging forever. I'm going to wake up one day to silence in my home instead of the quiet, steady breathing of my early riser patiently waiting for me to greet the sun with him. And his tackling, tumbling brother won't knock me over with surprise jumps onto my back because he'll be grown. The Psalmist must have thought about these things too because he said, "So teach us to number our days, so that we might live wisely." (Psalm 90:12) And I'm left wondering, "If I'm to live like I'm dying--which, in truth I am--than what things should be on my daily bucket list?" There are like two million things and people all lined up, some not so patiently, waiting to make the cut. "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength...love your neighbor as yourself." (Matthew 22) Love God. Love people. Seems so simple. Maybe it is. Maybe every single action I take needs to go through this one filter, "Will I be loving God and loving people as I love myself if I do this thing?" And if I followed that mantra, then maybe my legacy would be tweaked enough. Maybe I would be remembered like this. She loved. She loved. That would be something. So, I know tomorrow isn't promised to me. I'm married to a firefighter. I face the reality of danger every third day when he leaves for his shift and I wonder, Will he come home? But what am I doing with the moments that are given me? What am I doing with the sweet precious mornings when that little rooster patters into my room wide awake and ready to discuss the NFL strike and the other one dives into my bed like it's a swimming pool? What am I doing with the few minutes between when the boys have gone to bed and Jeff is still up before he goes on shift? What am I doing with the people God puts in my life--the junior counselors at camp, the campers, the neighbors, the sisters, the friends, the parents? It is indeed a tender time, a time not to be taken for granted, not to be wasted. It is the allotted time. The bucket list time. Not the bucket list of adventures I want to take, but of seizing the moments that are my present reality and squeezing every ounce of life out of them that I possibly can. Ephesians 5:15 says we are to live carefully "redeeming the time" we are given. That word redeem carries with it the idea of rescuing something from being lost. My youngest son can't keep up with his shoes. He has about five thousand pairs, and none of them are where they are supposed to be at the proper time. When Sunday comes his brown dress shoes are surely down by the creek, and his camouflage boots are the only two matching shoes to be found. Sometimes I pick up his shoes, put them in a pile on top of the dryer, and just wait to see how long it takes him to notice they are all missing. He never has noticed. Not once. What if our minutes and hours were like that? God found them squandered and scattered haphazardly here and there, and He picked them up and placed them altogether for us to see collectively just how many precious moments we lost? I can't imagine what it would be like to really see all of that time together in one lump sum. It's my heart's desire to rescue the time God has given me. James 4:14 says, "...you are but a vapor, here for a little while and then vanishing." Like an early morning mist that whispers across a sleeping lake, our souls drift through these mortal days, only to return to the arms of eternity. May their journey leave behind the fragrance of God. Pray with me: Lord, I'm humbled that you've given me time. More of it than many. Help me daily to use every single fiber of it for love. Loving others, loving you, loving who you've made me to be. May I be known for love. Amen. Read with me: Ephesians 5:15,16

Sailing into the storm (part 4)

"I am a man who has experienced affliction..." Lamentations 3:1 It had been seven years since his lips and mine had met for the first time in front of a couple hundred witnesses--our wedding day. Some people call it the seven year itch, but when you are right in the middle of it with toddling baby boys nipping at your ankles while you stare into each other's eyes and confess that you don't really know if you want to be married anymore, it feels very different from an itch. Neither of us had changed really, but somehow everything was different. As we sat their disappointed, disillusioned and tired, so tired of trying, we both knew we had run aground. I think the passengers aboard the sinking ship with Paul knew those feelings well when Paul tells them to keep up their courage because God told him he would make it out alive. Paul ended his encouragement with a sentence that has refreshed itself in mind day after day since I first read it. "Therefore keep up your courage, men for I have faith in God that it will be just as I have been told. But we must run aground on some island." These sailors had foolishly ignored Paul's good advice and now they find themselves suffocating under the dark swells of a storm, literally driven across first the Mediterranean and now the Adriatic Sea. Paul says to them, 'Look you screwed up big time. But hold onto your courage because my God, the one true God is delivering me to Caesar and you get to arrive with me, but...But! We're going to experience some turbulence along the way. We have to run aground." Paul was well qualified to write the words "And we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." (Rom 8:28) God always moves and works in our lives, but most of the time He does not remove the natural consequences of our decisions. That is critical because if we miss it we will end up disappointed with God and wondering why He didn't move amidst our storm. Those sailors chose to sail on the open sea late in the season and they bore the result of that risky decision. Run aground they did. Literally. They were caught probably on what would have been a sandbar in some cross currents. In the end the stern of their ship was splintered by the waves like fire logs by an ax. This is so significant to me because God told them they'd make it to shore and yet they watched helplessly as their ship--the only mode they had for getting to the shore--was pummeled by wave after wave like a wrecking ball to a high rise. I have watched as the vehicles I planned to use to get to shore were torn apart more than once in my life. Have you? A mom who planned to spend her children's lives running and playing with them is plagued with chronic illness. A marriage we thought was the happily ever after story ends in divorce and with it a family once involved in church no longer feels worthy to darken the door. A precious person I know was blindsided when her husband lost their family business. Another watched as their million dollar investment portfolio dropped like an arctic barometer in a matter of days after Enron. Another couldn't have a biological child. Another had five and each one walked away from God. And yet another sat in horror as her husband revealed his pornography and prostitute addiction. Real people. Real human lives that I know and love. Run aground. Their lives literally beaten to tiny pieces. And you tell me God is good? We say He works everything out for our good,but when you are in the middle of the wreckage it does not feel good. When we are left with fragments of the lives we build, it is then we have a choice to believe as Paul did that "it will be just as we have been told." (Acts 27:25) It is in the moment when the sterns have been broken and darkness chants "all hope is gone" that we decide whether we will believe the promises of God are true and real. You know how those sailors made it to land? It's incredible to me. Some of them just swam. Those who were strong enough and able, swam to land. The others followed either on planks for pieces from the ship. That's it. No incarnate Jesus walking on water to carry them to shore, no big flapping fish offering it's fins to bring them ashore. Just some pieces of broken boards and their own arms and legs. So often we miss God because we don't give Him credit for the strength He has given us--the ability to swim in an ocean of doubt and fear, for example. And I wonder if any of them stopped and praised Him for the splintered wreckage of that ship. So often I have everything figured out for God, the mode, the means and the method of getting me to shore. But more often than not, God takes those preconceived ideas of Himself and explodes them into a thousand fragments. His ways are just plain higher. It's so beautiful to me that God didn't remove the consequence of their choice, but from that wreckage he gave them just enough to float to shore. Just enough. When Jeff and I looked into each other's eyes that day we knew we had a decision to make--would we trust God and obey His plan or give into the storm? We chose God. And he literally gave us just enough. Just enough to make a choice to get some counselling. That was all. I remember driving to our first counselling session, lips pressed firmly together in relative silence thinking to myself, 'the fact that we are in this car driving in the direction of this counselor is a miracle because I do not want to be here and neither does he.' But we were and that was just enough. Six months later it was just enough to start falling in love again. There was never a moment when we trusted Him that He didn't provide that plank of hope--just enough to bring us to shore. And now we are a testimony not to the strength of our marriage, but to the strength of our God. There are seasons in our lives when we've just run aground. Ships were meant for water just as we were meant for hope. If you've run aground I pray you can hear my heart. Hold on. Your Father will not let you drown amidst the circumstances of your life. He will NOT. You have to know that as long as there is a God (and that's forever) you have hope. He does not abandon. He does not quit. He does not give up. He does not leave you in the consequences of your choices. He carries you through them, gives you just enough strength to stay afloat until you are safely to shore. That is the God whom I love, and that, my friends is the God who loves you. Do you believe it will be to you "just as He said?" Pray with me: Jesus, the God of hope--You came to earth to show that You will supply our greatest need for relationship with You. For that, I praise and thank you. When our lives are aground teach us to trust You. Teach us to swim with expectant hearts knowing that when our strength fails You are stronger still. Teach us that all life is in you and that our lives do not consist of the wreckage of the physical but in the peace of knowing who You are. Help us to see that we don't need a ship to get to shore--teach us to release all the 'ships' in our lives to you. Show us the planks, God. Help us to embrace the ways YOU want to work in our lives and the lives of those we love and to surrender all our preconceived ideas into Your capable hands. Help us to hold on, Father. Amen. Read with me: Lamentations 3 (especially 22-24, 55-58)

Stepping In the Footprints of Jesus

Loving Jesus, I mean really loving Jesus is a lot harder than I'd sometimes like to accept. The disciples themselves told Jesus His teachings were "hard" and many of them defected. That's a pretty big thing considering that anyone who devoted themselves to becoming a disciple had literally given up everything else--career, home, family--to become like this man. The Bible says in John 6 that Jesus was aware that some of his disciples were complaining that His teachings were too demanding and He specifically asked them, "Does this cause you to be offended?" Jesus knew they were offended--his message can be offensive to our personal agendas and bents. When it is, then we know we've encountered an area in our lives where we haven't released ourselves fully to Him. He went on to tell them, "The words I have spoken to you are spirit and are life." The Greek in that passage means that Jesus words are literally life-producing. Just yesterday the boys and I were cracking open rocks and marveling at the dark brown lines and layers passing through the hard stones. Here in the center of these rough chunks of our earth were minerals and elements like iron--ingredients completely and utterly necessary for the production of life. My eldest son--an avid ingredient label reader--exclaimed, "Mom, those are in the food we eat!" Exactly right. The very element that courses through our blood giving us energy and saving us from severe lethargy is found within the hardest stones. The truths of the Spirit of God are often layers of nutrients embedded in the difficult ways of Jesus. And they produce life. Now let me give you an example of what this looks like in my life. Paul in Philippians wrote a verse that God often uses to...well, to haunt me, if you will. "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is worthy of respect, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if something is excellent or praiseworthy, think about these things." (4:8) I know it's a commonly quoted passage and for good reason--it's full of iron-rich nutrients of the Spirit of God. The problem is that often it means I've got to quit focusing on something that doesn't meet that criteria. For example one of my absolute favorite authors of all-time falls short of this criteria. His writing is flawless. His stories are like long hot cups of coffee and lazy Saturday afternoons. And yet each of his books contain images and phrasing that I know grieve the heart of God. Every time I begin one of his books I am hopeful that it will be different and every time God passes that verse through my heart and whispers, "It's not commendable, Sarah. He took the incredible ability I gave him to write and allowed it to become something I never intended." And some of you might say, but it's art. And to that all I can tell you is the truth. Only a short distance into the book I was already aware that I'd need to return it to the library when my husband picked it up. I cringed. My entire body tensed as he began to look at the book because all I could think is how embarrassed I'd be if he read a few pages. Well, obviously it wasn't "praiseworthy" or I'd of been insisting he read the entire thing. So the book sits unread and waiting patiently to be returned. Hard. Maybe not hard for everyone, but for a literature lover it's hard to accept. We all cling to different things--struggle to hold onto different parts of our old life. Just this morning while pulling out an old shoe box for the boys to place some of their newly cracked open rocks in I noticed a slogan on the inside of the box. There was a large shoe print and the words "What kind of footprint will you leave?" Paul in verse 9 of Philippians 4 said, "And what you learned and received and heard and saw in me, do these things. And the God of peace will be with you." Do you not find it incredible that this man had such confidence in his obedience to Christ that He actually had the boldness to say, "Hey guys, mimic me. Be like me. Practise what I practise. Preach what I preach. Live how I live and the God of peace will be with you." That's amazing to me. Frankly, there are times when I have to sit my little boys down and say, "Boys, what you just saw mommy do? That wasn't what Jesus would do. I have to ask Jesus to forgive me and I need to tell you it was wrong. Will you forgive me too?" But Paul knew exactly what kind of footprint he was leaving and he wanted others to follow in it. After all, that's what a disciple is, isn't it? A follower? So, my question is, are we really following? Really? Listen, I know it's tough sometimes. Sometimes I feel like I'm giving up everything...but then Jesus asks us for what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul? See I'd rather keep my soul and lose the world. Jesus said in Luke 6:46-48, "Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord, and don't do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and puts them into practice I will show you what he is like: He is like a man building a house who dug down deep, and laid the foundation on bedrock. When a flood came, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built." A foundation on bedrock. I had a friend who recently built a house and they ended up having to blast into the earth with dynamite because they discovered her house location was solid rock. It cost her an extra fifteen thousand dollars, but she's got a foundation built on rock. Her house is going nowhere. It is permanently embedded in the rock. If I take Jesus at His word and obey it--follow it as closely as I understand it, I am digging down deep and leaving a footprint that I can be confident I want my own children to follow in. You know that passage in John when the disciples said it was too difficult to follow Jesus' teachings? My Bible says, "After this many of his disciples quit following him and did not accompany him any longer." The literal Greek translation of that means "Many of his disciples went back to what lay behind." What lay behind. I can't help but think of the Israelites' repeated claims that they were better off as slaves in Egypt. For the follower of Jesus what lays behind is always shaky ground. It's always less than what lies ahead. Imagine a house that actually shifts it's position from the solid foundation on which it lays to the sandy soil behind it? A house can't sit on two foundations and remain stable. That's not the footprint I want to leave. When we lived in Ontario sometimes we'd get a big snow overnight. If Jeff didn't have time to shovel before he left for work I'd go out and try to step directly in his big booted footprints in order to get the shovel. But when I missed even slightly, I always got snow down my boot or up my pants leg. Following in the footprints of Jesus takes every ounce of effort--it takes our all. He'll leave nothing untouched, but the payoff is a foundation built on rock so full of nutrients that we get a life only the spirit of God can give. Most of all, what I love is the promise that when we put these words and deeds into action, "The God of peace will be with you." (Phil. 4:9) We're not promised a trouble free life. We're not promised an easy life, but when we give all of ourselves to all we know of Jesus we are walking in the company of the God of peace. The peace to sing with the Horatio Spafford's great hymn, "It is well with my soul." It may not be easy, but it will be well. Of this, I am sure. Pray with me: God of peace, Spirit of God, Jesus, teach me to take your yoke. Teach me to follow in your footprints. Show me that the life you give is far greater than the life I release to follow you. God I miss the mark so often and I thank you for your forgiveness. Help me to love the peace that you give more than the temporary fulfillment I'm offered by those things to which I want to cling. Jesus may my life honor you and may my children find a solid footprint in which to follow. Amen."

When the Shoreline Changes

One week ago yesterday I sat in the same row of padded brown folding chairs as a woman with the hair of Greek goddesses and eyes like the sea. She was no stranger to me. A little over two years ago we sat in the same chairs circled around a table in a Sunday School class. As our conversation unfolded, I discovered she had been from New York as had my mother. We shared that in common. As tides flowed in and fell out over the last two years we saw one another--interacted here and again there. I doubt I'm wrong if I tell you I probably watched her far more than she was ever aware of me. Attending the same church doled out opportunity after opportunity to take her in. She was beautiful. It was hard not to notice her. Now, one week later, she is in the presence of God. In an instant the shoreline of our church was permanently altered and with it the lives of her children. In an instant. During her memorial, I felt like someone had forced a vacuum down my throat and turned it on as I listened to the sobs of a little girl robbed of her mommy echo throughout the sanctuary. Overwhelmed by a compelling to fly over the pew separating us and take that precious baby into my arms in human effort to withdraw her pain, I gripped the seat instead. There were many surrounding those sweet children, lifting them up. My best contribution was just to pray; to plead the mercies of a gracious Father over them. There is no answer to the why of tragedies like this--except to say that they are not God's intention. Never, NEVER are they God's plan. But ALWAYS He uses them to bring us to Himself. When left at sea in a fitful storm the only way home is to gaze steadily on the lighthouse's glow. It's the same in life. Amidst gales of inexplicable force, the only way to find home is to look to the light of a merciful, loving and very present heavenly Father. What there is though, in times like these, is the reminder that not one of our days is a guarantee. God's word tells us that our days are numbered, but there's no list telling us who gets how many. If I were to treat today as my last, how would I live it? There's a country song about a guy who finds out he's dying. He sings about going sky diving, rocky mountain climbing and riding a bull--all things I wouldn't mind trying my own hand at. But that's not how I'd spend my final day. What about you? Have you ever considered that question? When God puts people, spouses and children, into our lives everything is changed. I want my husband and my boys to know that they were loved desperately until at times I felt I couldn't breath with the intensity of it. I want to know that my boys are going to continue loving God. I want to know that I did everything I could to fill them with the knowledge of God and His love for them. I want to know I have taught them that God is the source of life and of hope. I want them to know that above all else in life the thing that matters is that they love God. I wonder how much time we spend taking kids to lessons, to sports, to friends houses for sleepovers compared to how much time we spend talking about the heart of God with them. I can give my children every educational opportunity, athletic chance and material thing in the entire world but if I don't give them God I have given them nothing at all. Nothing. This dear lady did something very well. Every Wednesday I saw her at our church with a smile that never fell as she sat in the front row on the padded brown chairs. At her seat, she did the motions to the songs the kids dance team performed. Often I noticed how her daughter--a member of the team--would glance at her mom to make sure she was right on track and her mom was there doing the motions with her, never missing a beat. But she showed that little girl so much more than the motions. She showed her that God mattered and that being a part of the family of God was important. Without question that little girl saw a mother who's commitment to God and her daughter were unwavering. What a legacy. May it be said of us, "Her commitment to God and her family never wavered." If there were one thing I could tell young mothers like myself I believe it would be don't feel guilty about choosing your spouse and your children first. There is not a week that goes by that someone doesn't call with a request--this committee, this luncheon, that children's program, that get-together. And probably ninety-nine percent of the time I have to say NO. Not now. Not this time. I always try to pray about any decision and there are times when God allows me to say yes. But if I never have another tomorrow, I want to know that I spent today investing in the two stewardships God entrusted to me--my husband and my boys. Those are my priorities. And I'll not apologize. In me, my children will never have a perfect mother and my husband certainly did not get a flawless wife, but by the grace of God may they have found a reflection of His heart in their wife and mother. Pray with me: Lord, I ask you to pour out healing on the precious hearts of these children who have had their mother taken from them into your presence. Lord, may I learn from this. Give me a heart that so lives in your presence that when I make the transition from this life to eternity I don't even notice I've left earth. Lord, endow me with knowledge as you did Daniel. Knowledge to teach my children about you in a way that they too become desperate after your heart. In Jesus' name. Amen. Listen with me: Legacy--Nichole Nordeman Read with me: I John 4:7-10 Ecc. 3