A Word Please?

I simply cannot express how it pains me to begin this devotional. Why? Because to do so, I am forced to use a phrase that I’m not ready to use. Just . not . ready. I know that I am a mother of 5 children. I am aware that 4 of them are teens and one is halfway through college! I understand that I am no longer 20-somethin’. (Heck, my marriage is 20-somethin’.) But knowing these facts deep inside my brain, and saying them out loud, are two different things. However, in the interest of becoming more mature and less vain, (and in the interest of finally getting to the message) here goes . . .

Almost 20 years ago, (That’s the criminal phrase. How in the world has it been that long? Seriously? How? - sorry) . . . Almost 20 years ago, (sigh) I sat in an obstetrician’s office, nearing the end of my first pregnancy, in the process of having my excitement exchanged for fear.

Week after week, the doctor continued to comment about my not gaining weight. It seemed that my weight gain had stopped progressing at about 7 and 1/2 months, and every week, she commented about it. Every week I tried to tell her that my fat-girl pants and skirts were getting noticeably tighter around my noticeably bigger belly, and at the same time, my arms and legs were getting thinner. (Think Mrs. Potato Head.) It made perfect sense to me. My baby was growing, while every other part of me was shrinking. All I had to do was look in the mirror - it was seriously, very obvious. It seemed that my body was losing weight at the same rate that the baby was gaining. The doctor ignored my non-medical school observations and only cared what the scale told her. Since it was my first prego experience, I wasn’t sure enough of myself to protest.

Every week, after weighing me, she wrote secret doctor things in my chart. On this particular day, however, with only one week until the due date, she dropped the bomb about her secret.

“Since you haven’t gained any weight for the last six weeks, I must assume that the baby is not growing. Because he/she should be gaining more weight at this point than at any other time during the pregnancy, there must be something wrong. I’ll send you for an ultra-sound to determine if the baby is even big enough for me to induce labor. (Apparently, babies under 5 pounds don’t fare well in the induction process.) If he/she is anywhere near 5 pounds, we’ll induce. If not, the baby could die.”

Bedside manner was not her specialty.

I remember little of the following week except fear and tears and tests. There were ultra-sounds that suggested that the baby was “approaching” 5 pounds and therefore “medically viable for induction.” There were forms to sign giving permission to ” induce labor despite blah, blah, blah . . .”. Suddenly, nine bliss-filled, medically uneventful, eat-all-you-want months turned into a nightmare that I was not prepared to process. So I did the next, hormonally logical thing. I blamed God.

God, what’s the matter? What have I done wrong? What’s going on? Are You here? The doctor said . . . The ultra-sound technician said . . . Why is this happening? Can’t You do something? What if . . . There’s no reason for this God! What good can possibly come from this? Are You listening?! Do You hear what they’re saying?!

In the midst of my desperate, faithless, whining, I heard God’s still, small voice speak 5 words that changed everything:

Those are not MY words.

In an instant, everything changed. In an instant, I knew that He was in control and had not left the throne. In an instant, I understood that I had swallowed fear in massive doses without once consulting Him - the One who has the last word on everything.

The next few minutes featured a very pregnant short girl on her knees. I repented and promised God that I trusted Him with the outcome. I trusted Him to equip my husband and I to handle whatever happened. I asked Him to speak louder in my head than the doctor’s words. I began to realize that, though this situation had caught me completely off guard, it had not surprised Him at all. I forced myself to stop mentally reciting (worshiping) the doctors’ reports.

Those are not MY words

Two days later I was in the hospital holding my new, over 8 pounds, perfectly healthy, perfectly perfect, perfectly lookin’-like-his-daddy, baby boy.

Don’t you just love it when God knows what He’s talking about?

Those are not MY words.

How incredible is that? No 5 point sermon. No lengthy, guilt-inducing speech beginning with, “Oh, woman of little faith!” Just a gentle nudge to remind me that I had forgotten whose words I should be seeking and listening to and meditating on and trusting. A short but powerful glance at myself from His perspective.

God has much to say about each and every aspect of our lives. Whatever burden you are carrying - voluntarily or otherwise - He knows about it. I am convinced that He has a life-giving, burden-lifting, eye-opening, soul-healing, joy-imparting, world-changing word for E*V*E*R*Y setting we find ourselves in. And the bonus is that HIS words are not simply sweet little doses of encouragement - they are power and life and healing and deliverance and peace and so much more! And they are available to us as believers . . . simply for the asking.

Your word is a Lamp unto my feet and a Light unto my path. (Psalms 119:105)

This Book of the Law (Your Word) shall not depart from my mouth but I shall meditate on it day and night. (Joshua 1:8 )

The steps of a righteous man are ordered by the Lord. (Psalms 27:33)

I will make known to you the path of life. (Psalms 16:11)

I know the plans I have for you. (Jeremiah 29:11)

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go. (Psalms 32:8 )

In Him . . .

(Also posted at The Internet Cafe’)

Blame or Fame?

By now we’ve all heard of the Chapman family tragedy. I have been at a loss for words all day. My friend Lisa, however, has not. She has a powerful word for the Body of Christ in light of this situation. I urge you to take a quick jump over to her site to read “Blame or Fame”. It is an on-time word for today.

(PS - Don’t forget to pray for the Chapman family, especially their young son. What the enemy intends for destruction, God desires to turn into something magnificent and holy - all to His Glory.)

Sovereign

The word ‘Sovereign’ is one of those words. One of those words that we are not altogether unfamiliar with, yet we’d be hard pressed to say that we fully “get it” - especially when the word is used to describe God. So I did what all over-thinkers do. I looked it up.

Sovereign: possessed of supreme power; above or higher than (in place or position); independent of and unlimited by any other.

Yep. That’s what I thought . . . And that’s the problem.

I think we’d all agree that if anyone would fit the definition of ’sovereign’ it would be God - hands down. But what about days (weeks, months …) when our lives are filled with struggles? Is He sovereign then?

‘Struggling’ is my church lady way of describing how I’m sometimes not crazy about the way God is handling an important situation in my life and I am attempting to tell Him about it but He seems to not be listening or changing anything though I am providing Him with evidence and reason and reminders of why I deserve what I am asking for and why the timing is so important along with the subtle suggestion that He might not be as fair as He could be concerning this very important matter which by the way . . . . ‘Struggling’.

When it comes to the sovereignty of God, I think most of us run back and forth between two schools of thought:

1 - God is good, but not totally sovereign.

2 - God is sovereign, but not totally good.

Which is truth? Neither! God is both sovereign AND good!

His power is absolute, total, unlimited, unrestricted, fixed, infallible, precise, undeniable, unquestionable, total - sovereign. He is able to move any mountain, correct any situation, change any decision, touch any life.

He is also absolutely good, merciful, faithful, just, holy, true, loving, peaceful, patient, generous, forgiving and completely willing.

Consider this: A small child toddles innocently into a street where an oncoming semi can’t see him. Mom runs to the rescue and in the nick of time, saves her son. His safety is secure again and all is well. Except for one thing. Now Junior is angry at Mom. In order to rescue him in time, she scooped him up quickly from the street and hurt his arm a bit. Revelation!! Mom is mean! For no reason at all, she’s hurt his innocent little arm. Before this incident, he thought she was so loving, and sweet and protective, but it turns out she’s just mean and uncaring, and unloving and indifferent to his pain. And to make matters worse, she offers no explanation. He’s considering not trusting her anymore.

We all know that it wouldn’t do Mom any good to attempt to explain to Junior that she did what was necessary to save his life - because she loves him. She could spend the rest of the day trying to explain the dynamics of standing in the path of an oncoming vehicle to him, but she doesn’t - because his limited understanding can not grasp it. Instead, she holds him, sheds tears of relief, and ignores the fact that he is angry with her. “One day . . .” she thinks, “One day, he’ll understand my great love for him.” And for now, that is enough for her. She endures his anger and confusion, because she knows - better than he - the danger and the risks. She sees what he can not see . . . yet.

I suppose because we’re “all grown up” it’s a little difficult to believe that we don’t always know what’s best for us. When God doesn’t allow something in our lives that we want so desperately, or when He allows situations that are difficult, it seems logical to distrust His motives.
After all, if He is ‘sovereign‘, if He CAN do something about it, then why doesn’t he?

If He is able to deliver me from ________, then why doesn’t He? Because He’s working out a plan.

If He does love me, then why doesn’t he remove all difficulty? Because He loves me.

If there is a reason behind the madness, why doesn’t He explain? Because He knows, and for now, that is enough.

And because He has a plan. And because His plan involves training us in righteousness and holiness and faith. And because He knows of what we are truly made and what really needs to happen in the secret place of our hearts . . . And because He alone knows what magnificent treasures He has stored in your heart alone. No one else has been as uniquely gifted as you. Your unprecedented combination of gifting and heart and talent and personality and quirkiness and sensitivity and vision and manner of seeing the world is unlike any other. And He requires it to be that way for you to fulfill your calling in the Body and advance His Kingdom . . . while there is still time.

“. . . until you acknowledge that the Most High is sovereign over all the kingdoms of men” (Daniel 4:32)

Yes, Father God is absolutely sovereign in the ways of men - and women. Yes, He sees our every struggle, tear, and confused thought. Will we allow Him to use them to do what only He can do, to mold us into the very image of His Son, to produce in us what is only visible to Him, for now?

Because He is truly both sovereign AND good.

Also posted at Internet Cafe’ Devotions

Pray for Robin

A friend and contributor to Heart of the Matter home school magazine, Robin Sampson, is in need of prayer. She has spent nearly a year battling heart issues and is currently in the hospital requiring regular transfusions. You can read the details here.

Robin is the author of Heart of Wisdom teaching approach as well as other books and teaching materials. She is also the mother of 11 children - including several younger ones. Please pray for Robin and her family as God brings her to your thoughts and as He leads. Robin and her family thank you very much!

Teenagers. Who knew?

When I finished college, I remember telling God that I would teach anywhere - with 2 exceptions: wherever there were preschoolers and wherever there were teenagers. Since I wasn’t married and didn’t have children of my own, I knew I’d never have enough patience for the tiny people - preschoolers. Since I didn’t have children of my own, I knew I’d never have patience for the bigger people - teens. (also, they’re bigger than me). So I spent a few years teaching in middle schools/junior high schools. (ahem. . . they’re bigger than me, too.)

Fast forward a lot of years and all of my best efforts to control the ages of the kid population around me have crumbled. I am now a mother of 5 children, 4 of them teenagers. 4. Yes. Fast forward a lot of years and I realize that all of my dodging the big kids was for naught. Early on, from a distance, before I had a few of my own, I mistakenly decided that teens - at best - had two skills . . . rebellion and attitude. Turns out, they have a few other qualities that are only visible upon closer inspection.

Within the collection of teenagers who live with me everyday, there is no shortage of personalities and gifts. There are leaders, and servants. There are musicians and writers. There are those whose thoughts are known instantly (because they “update” constantly) and there are those whose thoughts run deep - you’ll only know them if you inquire. There are generous givers of money and time. There are a few who “wing it” and never  worry because “God’s got it Mom!” and there is a meticulous planner, born clutching a clip board. There are one or two who could take charge of a gathering at a moment’s notice if called upon. And there is one who would never seek to take charge, but whose words and faith would challenge - but only if you slow down enough to listen. Sometimes there are displays of compassion and maturity among them that surprise me. There are smiling, humming, huggy morning people and there are night owls. There are some who battle perfectionism and some who . . . don’t. Among them there is no shortage of opinions on endless issues. The spectrum can run from constant goofiness and humor to random goofiness and humor. “Bored” is not an adjective I use very often (ever.)

I have learned that God has called each of us to a specific purpose in life. He has gifted every single breathing person with talents and gifts and personality traits that the world needs - desperately. My teenagers, your teenagers,are among those so gifted by God.

Let no one look down on your youthfulness, but rather in speech,conduct, love, faith and purity, show yourself an example. . .(1 Timothy 4:12)

I recently heard the next generation described as a “generous, non-judgmental, volunteer, merciful generation!” There is a calling upon this next generation that is unlike any before them. I assume this is because . . . “the times, they are a’changing” - spiritually speaking. In my opinion, this next generation may be responsible for ushering in the remainder of the Body of Christ. They are “wired” differently because that is what is required for the task ahead.

I have been watching for some time now. I have heard the prophecies concerning this generation of youth. I have been paying attention to how they act, what they respond to, what and who they respect, what they cling to and what they give away. They are as comfortable talking to a homeless person under a bridge as they are a person of “prominence”. They are content with last minute changes to the plan. They are equipped to lead and content to follow. They are humble enough to be up front and visible, if necessary, and brave enough to labor behind the scenes. God is up to something. I’m just saying . . .

If there are teens in your life and you don’t yet see anything resembling the previous paragraphs, ask God to begin to open your eyes. Maybe they’re distracted. Maybe the enemy knows the call on their life and he is working full time to make sure they never find out about it. Maybe they just don’t know. Maybe you should tell them.

YAY JOELLE!!!

Congratulations Joelle ! ! ! (offspring #3, oldest daughter, AKA - Middle Child)! Joelle was a finalist in the photo contest at Growing In Grace online magazine. Take a look at the 4 final photos! (I secretly call her photo “The Rapture” )

Carrying that camera around has finally paid off!

YAY! Joelle ! ! !

Where are you?

Where are you?

On any given day, in any given city, there is no shortage of answers to this question.

“Where am I?” - I am between jobs, I am struggling financially, I am sitting in the hospital with a very sick child, I am being served divorce papers, I am in prison, I am experiencing infertility, I am barely clinging to my faith, I am thinking that God has forgotten about me, I am depressed, I am confused . . .

Most of us have been to some of these places or have watched someone go there. Situations like these seem defining. When we look in the mirror - there we are - in that “place” we never dreamed we’d be. And the worst part? When we arrive at that “place” - always unexpectedly - it’s easy to become convinced that we no longer qualify to function in our place in the Body of Christ. We believe the lie that because our situations are not small and insignificant but instead seem to have consumed all of ‘life’ as we know it, that we - by default - must forfeit walking in our kingdom purpose.

We attempt to grasp at scriptures that say our trials will refine us, and mold us into the image of Jesus, yet when we assess our situation, we feel less like Christ than before we first believed. Then we open up and swallow one of our enemy’s favorite lies:

“You are in this “place” because you have failed, and God just can’t use you now.”

The problem with this lie, the reason it is so easy to swallow is because it is accompanied by tons of stinkin’ evidence and facts that are difficult to dispute. In light of this, allow me to offer something that I think God would applaud:

“WHERE you are . . . is not WHO you are!”

(For the rest of this post, follow me to CWO’s Internet Cafe’)

The Basement

. . . . The basement was dark. It was always dark. There was no light. There was never light. Those who existed there neither liked nor disliked it - it was simply their reality, and since they weren’t alone, they managed . . . somehow. Not only was the basement always dark, it was also always damp and cold and always smelled of death and decay. Those who existed there no longer noticed the odor. Life in the basement was predictable. Nothing ever changed - not the smell, not the temperature, not the dampness, not the darkness.

Each inhabitant lived in his own corner of the basement and mostly, they kept their faces to the wall. It was comfortable that way. Occasionally the inhabitants discussed things such as “What ‘light’ might be like . . . if it really existed”. But eventually, in the darkness, someone would stub a toe in the darkness or fall on the slimy, wet floor and after that, conversations about “light” seemed irrelevant and childish. Then everyone would slowly meander back to their own corners of the basement where they were accustomed to the surroundings - though they could not see.

Regularly, the basement inhabitants would each feel sharp, gripping pain coming from somewhere in the darkness. Some of the pains were quick. Other pains were slow and very deep and seemed to never end. Because it was dark, those in pain would simply blame the nearest inhabitant for their injury. Because of this, the basement was always filled with anger and disagreement and accusation and denial. Battles with frustration and hopelessness were commonplace.

Such was the life of the inhabitants of the dark basement. None could see, yet all were convinced that those nearest them were the cause of their pain. Because of this, they kept everyone at a distance - it seemed to be a decent enough plan (because of the darkness.) But somehow, despite how careful they were, regardless of how much distance they put between themselves and others, they still felt the occasional stabbing pains in the dark. Over time, the basement inhabitants became hardened and calloused to their surroundings - simply to survive. After all, in the darkness, a person couldn’t change anything, so he always had to be prepared for the next, unavoidable pain.

One day, without warning, a huge door (that no one had ever noticed before) opened into the basement. Suddenly, there was mayhem and confusion! Inhabitants scrambled like frightened bugs, quickly trying to locate their corners. Though their eyes were now stinging and in pain they were desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. Something had entered through the door and was illuminating the basement for the first time. Could this be light? Why was it painful? Why were some attracted to it while others were repulsed? How long had that door been there and what was its purpose?

Most of the basement inhabitants were shouting by now, “Shut the door!” The light was blinding to eyes that had only known darkness and it lit up the basement to expose the vile reality that was their life. Some were angry - others were confused - but a few . . . were intriged.

Next, through the light, stepped someone who called himself “A Servant of the Most High” and a “Bearer of Good News.” He began to announce that anyone who wished to leave the basement could do so at any time. The “Most High” had secured accommodations for them all upstairs in the house and they were to given free reign. “A banquet table awaits you all!” he said. “Let us proceed upstairs where the Lord of the House anxiously awaits your arrival. He desires that you leave this dark, miserable place, open your eyes to the truth and step into what has lovingly been prepared for you!” Having said this, the “Servant” stepped back through the door, into the light and held the door open for any basement inhabitants wishing to leave the basement and enter the “House.”

During the Servant’s announcement, some of the inhabitants began to look around as their eyes adjusted to the light. Most of them were still angry at the intrusion and had already found their way back to their corners of the basement - desperately trying to avoid the light. Most were mumbling things like, “What gives him the right to judge how we live?” and “Who says the house is better than the basement?!” Still others were paralyzed by their pride - a pride which made them too embarrassed to admit that their dark basement corner may not have been as good as they once believed.

A few began to notice, however, that someone was trying desperately to find a place to hide in the unexpected light — darting from place to place to conceal his presence. And as he darted, he poked and stabbed at any inhabitant he could reach, causing them each great pain. Even in the presence of light, some of the inhabitants continued to blame anyone near them for the pain. Most of them, even in the presence of the light, had put their faces back into their dark corners and therefore were unaware of who was actually causing the pain.

As minutes passed, a few inhabitants began to realize that this evil creature had fooled everyone in the basement all of their lives. He had been sneaking around in the dark causing pain. HE KNEW that as long as he kept them busy blaming one another, busy being angry, busy being hurt, disappointed and prideful - that they would never accept the invitation of the Lord of the House and therefore they would miss everything prepared for them (and since HE wasn’t invited upstairs, he did not want them to go!)

Once these few basement inhabitants realized how they had been deceived and what they had been missing, they began to step toward the door, into the light. Some of the others mocked them and even tried to stop them. But their eyes had been opened by the words of the “Servant” and they would no longer be content with the stinking, wet, dark basement now that they knew that the house existed and that they had been invited.

They stepped toward the light and the door, leaving the pain, confusion, despair, anger and deception of the darkness behind them, to receive all that the “Servant” spoke of . . . and then some.

. . . . . . . . . back in the basement, the door was shut and the miserable, burning light was gone. Some inhabitants were already arguing over a couple of recently vacated dark corners. Others were sure that those who had left the basement were certainly sorry by now for leaving such comfortable, predictable surroundings. And meanwhile . . . . . those unexpected, sharp, lingering pains in the darkness continued, and the inhabitants blamed one another.

Mommy!

Mother’s Day is fast approaching and we wanted to take this opportunity to bless one really special mom this year. In order to do that, we’ve teamed up with some fabulous companies who have that same desire. The package that has been put together will give Mom everything she needs for the up and coming school year PLUS MORE!

Now, we fully believe that every mom deserves this package but since we can only give it to one mom, here is what needs to be done….

Nominate the mom you believe deserves it the most. Is she a single mom? a military mom? a widow? a mom of a child with special needs? Has she overcome certain obstacles? Let us know her story. Why does she deserve this package? What would it do for her family? Let us know and she could be the recipient of this amazing package and the person who nominates her will also receive a gift! Your nominations must be electronically mailed to: homeschoolinghearts@gmail.com with “Nomination for Mother’s Day” in the subject line.

You have from now until May 7th at midnight to submit your nomination. Our staff and writers will then collectively consider, pray, and talk it over to decide who will receive it. The decisions will be posted on Mother’s Day, Sunday, May 11, 2008.

We will also post a “Tribute” of sorts to all the moms who were nominated. Simply sharing encouraging bits that will honor them as well. You may nominate more than one person but the nominations must be in separate emails.

All nominations will be considered and prizes cannot be exchanged. Please place the button on your blog to spread the word. Let’s bless some Moms this year!

Click on over to Heart of the Matter online to check out the prizes

God is not into labels

Because I only had a small finishing touch (a signature) to put on the devotional I had already written, I waited until late last night to do it. It’s a two minute job even for my techo-challenged self. So, some time around 11pm-ish, I sat down to ’sign’ and post it. Two minutes later, the post disappeared. Seriously.

The disappearing post was about how I occasionally ask God to “label” my trials. I sometimes tell Him that if He labeled them, and I had some kind of warning - before the tough situation hit - I might possibly be equipped to react . . . better. (Something like, “Darnelle, pay attention, fiery darts up ahead!!”) So far He’s not gotten on board.

Most of the time when I encounter some trial, some unexpected difficulty, I often catch myself falling into ‘default’ mode. Default mode for me is generally a mixture of anxious thoughts and a sizable portion of fear/doubt. It’s not where I want to be. It’s certainly not where I should be and yet, before I have a chance to think, there I am. Default mode. Eventually I make my way back to thankfulness and praise mode, but usually only after the detour.

Now, I invite you to enjoy the humor with me. I sat down to publish this post - about how I wish God would label my trials to give me some warning and:

#1 - The post disappeared. (then minutes later)
#2 - My husband injured his back (history says - days in bed for him) and all of the over-time dinero he was going to make this weekend - out the window. He is very disappointed and in pain. (then minutes later)
#3 - I walked into the kitchen only to find our income tax bill that states we owe thousands in taxes - (because of the mismanagement of a former - not so ethical - employer)

Strike 3 . . . And not one of them with a label or warning.

The longer I sit here, the more I realize that a few folks reading this, right now, may be sitting at the top of the slide with me, ready to slip on down to default mode. The place where the enemy causes us to forget who we are and more importantly, Who we serve. The place where fear and doubt reign - and not our King. The place where our (un-announced) trials seem bigger than our God.

Maybe today could be a new day. Maybe today, we just skip default mode, and go directly to thankfulness and praise. Maybe today we just trust what we KNOW about Him and not what we think we SEE . Maybe we could stretch ourselves to believe that, really and truly, ALL THINGS, in God’s hands, work together for good.

That’s my plan. Though the trials of today, the ones with no labels or warnings, were a surprise to me, they were not, to Him. That’s good enough. Join me?

The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; The God of my strength in whom I will trust; My shield and the horn of my salvation; My stronghold and my refuge; My Savior . . . (2 Samuel 22:2-3)

Also posted at CWO’s Internet Cafe