“I’m your follower!” announced my preschooler in a sing-song voice as she tagged along at my heels. I smiled at her candor, enjoying her company.
Then, the profound truth of her words settled into my soul. My follower. My shadow. A nearly inseparable part of my being during this life season. She watches and continually learns from me (as do her older siblings).
Our children are, quite literally, our followers. Like little disciples, they instinctively look to us as examples, teachers, and leaders. What a privilege! We have the opportunity to introduce them to Jesus, live out the gospel, and model faith in daily life.
And yet, what a sobering responsibility. I don’t know about you, but sometimes this strikes fear in my heart. What if I get it wrong? What about all the times I fall short of being the perfect parent I long to be?
In moments of worry and doubt, we need God to speak truth to our souls.
For eight reminders that can equip us to live well as Christian parents, hop over to Crosswalk:
Does faith deconstruction have a place in the Church? A quick Google search reveals a variety of opinions on the subject, with articles ranging from harsh criticism to strong praise.
What is faith deconstruction? Where did the concept come from and how can we be sure we’re talking about the same thing?
To read more about deconstruction and when it’s a really good thing, hop over to Bible Study Tools:
How can Christians promote peace in a world filled with conflict? What qualities characterize those who work for harmony and reconciliation?
The theme of peace weaves through Scripture like a golden thread. Jesus left his disciples with the promise of peace (John 14:27). Ephesians describes the good news of our faith as “the gospel of peace” (6:15) and God calls Christians to “live in peace” (2 Corinthians 13:11).
But what is this peace the Bible describes? Is it the absence of hardship or avoidance of conflict? Can everyday Christians experience it, or is it reserved for a few “super saints?”
To read the rest of the article, hop over to Bible Study Tools:
Mary and Martha paint a vivid picture of two very different siblings. Busy Martha was a hostess at heart. In Luke 10:38-42, we see her welcoming Jesus into her home (something she did on more than one occasion). While Jesus taught his disciples, Martha bustled about her kitchen, working hard to prepare a meal worthy of her King. Driven by a taxing to-do list, Martha’s many acts of service left her anxious and distracted.
In the other room, Mary took a different posture. She joined Jesus’ disciples on the floor, sitting at his feet as a learner. Enraptured with this Teacher, Mary hung on his every word. She, in contrast to her sister, seems the picture of peace. Even when Martha accused her of laziness and told Jesus to make her come help in the kitchen, Mary stayed quietly in her seat.
Then Jesus came to her defense. “‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed — or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her’” (Luke 10:41-42).
When reading this passage, it’s important to remember both women loved Jesus. Both called him their Lord (Luke 10:40, John 11:32). Both offered him their worship — Martha through her hospitality, Mary through anointing his feet with perfume (John 12:1-3).
When Jesus corrected Martha, he didn’t condemn her or say her service didn’t matter. Instead, he pointed to the turmoil in her soul. Her restless heart revealed a deeper issue — she was missing the point of following him.
We, too, can easily get sidetracked, confusing busyness with fruitfulness, thinking Jesus wants our service most of all. But the sisters’ encounter with Jesus points to a different way of walking out our faith.
Is His love swayed by your productivity? Must you work hard to keep Him happy? Do you wonder if He’s disappointed with your struggles and frustrated by your frailty?
Joining us today on this topic is my dear friend, Lori Hatcher. Yesterday, she launched her newest book Refresh Your Faith, Uncommon Devotions from Every Book of the Bible. (Grab your own copy here.)
The following post comes from her book, based on a passage from Isaiah.*
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
(Isaiah 40:11)
The early chapters of the Book of Isaiah begin with cinematography that would make the most epic 3-D film look like a kindergartener’s cartoon.
Isaiah describes smoke, thunderous noise, and angelic multitudes crying out in praise before almighty God in his temple. His heavenly glimpse of God in his throne room fills him with awe and fear. “Woe to me!” he cries. “I am ruined!”
Other Scriptures reinforce this image of God, describing him as the Conquering King, Righteous Judge, Mighty Warrior, and Powerful Sovereign. It describes how the oceans churn or quiet at God’s command. One word from God speaks the world into existence. Another has the power to send it up in smoke. With a flick of his mighty arm, thunderbolts fly from heaven. An angry glance from his all-seeing eyes causes the earth to swallow those who disobey his commands.
“See,” Isaiah 40:10 says, “the Sovereign LORD comes with power, and this arm rules for him.”
No doubt about it, God is strong. And God is active.
I’ve always admired these attributes of God (even though I find them more than slightly terrifying), because I like strength and activity. I’m a doer, not a sitter, character traits that fit well with my assumption that God expected me to be like him and work hard on his behalf.
But then I had children.
And my busy, do-lots-of-stuff-for-God life came to a screeching halt. Forget teaching a class, working on the bus ministry, or helping with every function the church sponsored. I could barely get myself and my baby dressed and out the door to attend worship on Sundays.
Then my baby had colic (which I wouldn’t subject any nursery worker in the world to). After colic, she had separation anxiety. She was three years old before she’d go into a toddler class so I could attend adult Sunday school again.
Six months later, her sister was born, and I was back to barely making it to church on Sundays.
My days of do-it-all ministry had come to an end. As far as the kingdom was concerned, I was useless.
A taker instead of a giver.
A dead weight on the gospel ship.
My heart sank to think how disappointed God must be with me. Then I read Isaiah 40:11:
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
Suddenly, I understood that the Mighty Warrior was also a tender shepherd.
The Conquering King stoops down to lift the fragile and the frail.
The Righteous Judge carries his children, not as a burden on his back, but as a treasure near his heart.
The Powerful Sovereign gently leads those who are emotionally tender and physically sapped – and boy, did that describe me in those early childrearing years.
Through Isaiah’s beautiful picture of God, I learned I didn’t have to be productive for God to love me. I didn’t have to perform to earn his favor. I was free to accept what I saw as my season of “inactivity,” knowing that God had not only ordained it, but had a good plan for it.
In his tenderness, he would carry me through my season of mothering if I would rest in him and allow him to lead me.
Isaiah’s picture of God gently leading those with young gave me permission to be frail and vulnerable, knowing that he wouldn’t drive me with his rod, but lead me with his shepherd’s crook.
My children are grown now, and I’m “busy” for the Lord again. As I look back on those childrearing years, I see that they were not fruitless. Once I realized that different seasons of life bring new (and often different) opportunities to minister, I was free to embrace each season instead of chafe at it.
I learned to look for ways to be Jesus’ hands and feet wherever I was, knowing that each day was ripe with potential. And I never again worried that I wasn’t productive enough to satisfy him.
I rested in the fact that the Great I AM is not frustrated by our frailties or impatient with our humanity. Instead, he willingly takes the place of a shepherd to lead with us through our earthly journey.
Uncommon Thought The Great I AM is not frustrated by our frailties or impatient with our humanity. Instead, he willingly takes the place of a shepherd to lead with us through our earthly journey.
Unusual Faith Think a moment about your perception of God. Do you see him as a stern taskmaster, demanding and hard to please?
Or do you see him as a shepherd, gentle and understanding toward your frailties? Do you feel as though you never measure up? That you can’t do enough to please him, especially if you’re in a season of life when you feel unproductive?
Spend time meditating on Isaiah 40:11. Imagine yourself as the lamb the prophet writes about. Picture yourself in the arms of the Savior, carried close to his heart.
Ask God to lead you into a greater understanding of his love and care for you. Then follow where he leads you, trusting that he will use you for his glory, no matter what season of life you’re in.
Unfamiliar Passage Read Isaiah 40:9-13.
*(A Sample Devotion from Refresh Your Faith, Uncommon Devotions from Every Book of the Bible by Lori Hatcher)
Do you think of a formal church service? Maybe a girl’s name? If asked to define it, what would you say?
Those who grew up in Sunday School might remember the acronym: God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense. Maybe you’ve heard some other catchy definition. Maybe you really aren’t sure.
I’ve heard about grace my whole life (something for which I’m incredibly thankful). But amazing didn’t really describe how I felt about it.
I was a good girl. Sure, God had forgiven my sins – at five years old. But my kindergartener shortcomings didn’t seem all that significant. Even during my teen and young adult years, I never did anything too bad.
So the grace we discussed at church only seemed amazing when I heard stories about drug addicts and ex-cons coming to faith. For people like that, grace truly was amazing. For me, though, I just didn’t feel it. Not only did I not do the really bad stuff, I spent my life doing lots of good stuff – having daily quiet times, leading Bible studies, teaching my kids about Jesus…
Because of my goodness, the amazingness of grace was lost on me.
Until that good girl life crumbled and I couldn’t keep up with my checklist Christianity. In that season of survival when I had nothing good to offer God, I felt His favor like never before. Suddenly, I saw the repulsiveness of my self-righteous Christianity, the utter inadequacy of my good deeds to earn His smile.
Suddenly, I began to understand grace.
Through all those years of pride and performance-based faith, God knew the depths of my heart. He saw the judgment with which I looked at others. He recognized how unimpressed I was with His blood-purchased grace.
Yet He loved me.
That is the essence of grace.
For the self-righteous and the unrighteous, grace is the key to understanding our Father’s heart. It’s an inseparable part of His nature, the basis on which He relates to us.
If your view of grace leaves you uninspired, maybe a fresh perspective will jump-start your heart as it did mine.
Our pastor recently gave this definition:
If you imagine God’s face as He looks at you, what expression do you see?
Do you see Someone excited to lavish you with good gifts? Is He favorably disposed toward you? Do kindness and generosity radiate from His eyes? Do you feel Him drawing you close, not to give you tomorrow’s to-do list, but to just be? Be close, be loved, be renewed, be transformed…
Or do you feel it’s up to you to keep yourself close to Him, to make yourself want Him, to grow and produce fruit so He’ll be happy with you? Must you earn His grace by trying hard to be humble, or is humility merely the recognition that you can’t?
Grace is only grace if we don’t deserve it (for both unbelievers and those who know Him). It flows freely, abundantly, exponentially from the heart of our God.
“For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:16).
Unexplainable, illogical, even scandalous by human standards, this grace is woven into every facet of our relationship with God.
You are deeply loved, daughter of grace. Your Father delights in you. He is lavish in kindness, abundant in power, persistent in His pursuit of your heart.
Grace is yours if you are His.
Rest in it. Revel in it. Run free in it.
What amazes you about grace? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
