July 17: True Obedience Doesn't Have Conditions

There was a bona fide game of "Cops and Robbers" going on today, and they played ALL afternoon. Those are the days...

Yesterday, Clayton learned how to ride a bike. And really there was no learning, he just kind of hopped on the bike and rode it down the driveway. Just like that. He apparently has been ready for a while. The boy was in heaven the rest of the afternoon. He LOVED it and was excited that he picked it up so easily. We live on a fairly quiet street traffic-wise, even though it's in the city, so I gave him permission to ride up and down our street with his friend. He was supposed to turn around at the stop sign and come back, and he did just that for quite a while, learning some tips and tricks on bike riding from his friend as he went back and forth.

Until he didn't. Instead of turning around at the stop sign, he turned the corner and disappeared.

He told me he didn't stay where he was supposed to because he had to make sure his friend, who lives around the block, got home ok. So I explained again how he needed to listen no matter what so that he could build some trust. And I gave him another chance. Only a short while later when Ben got home, he was nowhere to be found once again. I had to walk all the way around the block to retrieve him from his friend's house, nervous with every step that something had happened to him. Until I found him, that is, and then the nervousness quickly turned to anger. His reason this time was that everyone else was looking for a lost cat, and he had to help find it, too.

He was in big trouble. At that point he lost his bike for the night, of course, and he was devastated. He kept trying to justify and excuse his disobedience, utterly convinced that he didn't do anything wrong. After all, in his mind, both times he was trying to do a good thing and help his friends.

He woke up this morning with the bike on his mind, so I let him ride it a little before we left. He was allowed to ride it in the driveway, as I had several things to do before we left and couldn't sit outside and watch him. We have a nice, long paved driveway, so it didn't completely kill his fun. I emphasized the importance of listening after last night's breech of trust, and he assured me that he understood and would obey.

As I'm running around the house, brewing coffee, and gathering our things to head out for the day, I glance out the front window just in time to see him ride out of the driveway into the road, making a wide turn before heading back towards the driveway again. It's a wonder that human nature still surprises me, but it definitely still gets me every once in a while. I couldn't believe he left the driveway.

I opened the front door to tell him that he's lost the bike for now, no questions asked, and he proceeds to argue the fact that the end of the driveway is too narrow to turn around in and that he had to turn around in the road to avoid getting hurt or falling over.


And that's when I realized what was going on. In his mind, obedience had conditions. Fine print.


A clause that stated, it's okay to leave my street if I need to help my friends. Another stipulation that read, it's okay to ride in the road if I can't turn around in the driveway.



That realization opened the door to an excellent discussion, and he's done a much better job respecting the boundaries this afternoon.


I gotta say though, as difficult and frustrating as these kinds of things are with kids, I do love how it opens my eyes to how we interact with God as our Father. How many conditions of my own do I place on my obedience to the Lord?? 



"The counterfeit of obedience is a state of mind in which you create your own opportunities to sacrifice yourself, and your zeal and enthusiasm are mistaken for discernment."  Oswald Chambers



Take a few minutes and digest that quote--it's a powerful one!! I think I audibly gasped the first time I read it, because there is so much truth there. The fallen nature of humans and the deceitfulness of the heart never cease to amaze me. True obedience doesn't have conditions, but we put them in place every day.



I'll obey you, God, unless I read something in the Bible that I don't agree with.

I'll go anywhere you want me to go, God, unless you want me to go to Africa. Then I'm out. 

I'll do whatever you want me to do with my life, God, unless it means working with those people. You know the ones.

I'll obey you, God, unless it means ending this relationship, and I just don't think I can do that.

I'll follow you, God, unless you ask me to give up __________________. 

I'll obey you, God, unless...



What conditions are you placing on your obedience to the Lord? Whatever those conditions are, they are very things that you currently value more then Him {i.e., idols}. He's not calling us to second-rate obedience--He's calling us to complete obedience, without conditions, clauses, fine print, or stipulations.



At the end of the day, we all need to ask ourselves, is God enough?



God alone. Is He really enough? If he truly is, we would obey Him to the ends of the earth and back, without conditions. 

July 15: A Giant, Sticky Ball of Stress

Today I learned, when mandating some reading be completed before any TV watching, that I'm "boring, mean, and must not care at all." Today I also learned that if you're the meanest most boring mom ever in the whole entire universe, you must be doing something right.

The latter half of yesterday was just one of those days. I was mad, mad, mad at everyone and plain old crabby. It was one of those days where I completely let the circumstances control my attitude and responses. And I should've bit my tongue as the circumstances stacked up against me; I should've walked away like I did the other day. At some point I should've just said ENOUGH and stopped trying to fit too much stuff into not enough time.

But do you ever feel like it's out of control and you can't stop it? Because that's how I felt. I felt like this frenzied ball of stress, and once the ball of stress got rolling, I couldn't even think straight let alone stop it. The ball of stress was big, and probably even sticky, like a giant wad of gum that gets stuck on the bottom of your shoe. A big enough wad to get you stressed out in the first place.

Then the dog runs away and you can't catch him or get him to come back, and the sticky ball of stress starts rolling. Along the way it picks up kids who had been playing out in the rain and are now covered in mud, whining, a baseball game that's cancelled and then not cancelled, frustration with the dog and the children, more whining, debris from a frantic run out the door to pick up dad from work, get the snack for the game that was supposed to be cancelled, and get to the game. It also manages to pick up children who can't seem to sit down and eat a meal without acting crazy and a baby pooping in the bathtub, again.

Before you know it, this sticky ball of stress is so huge and moving so fast that you don't even recognize yourself anymore. Furthermore, there is so much junk and debris that stuck to the ball as it was rolling downhill that it's disgusting, and no one wants to be around you anymore.


Anyone else ever turn into a giant ball of stress?


No?


Ya, me either. Noooo idea what that's all about...

****

After days like this, I'm so thankful for bedtime. I'm thankful for God's Word and it's ability to right our perspective unlike anything else in the world. I'm thankful that He's able to grab ahold of the biggest, stickiest, fastest, most disgusting stress balls and stop them in their tracks with His mighty hand of redemption. And I'm thankful that His mercies are new every morning and that tomorrow can be a better day.

And it was.

July 11: There's the Shark!!

For weeks now, the entrance to the highway by our house has been a construction zone. All the land on the side of the road is one big dirt pile, stretching at least a couple miles. And every day we get on the highway, Toby is convinced that he sees a shark somewhere in the dirt by the entrance ramp. 

Every time I forget about it until he yells, "There's the shark!!!"

It's a black shark. When Ruby heard that, she said, "Toby, it can't be a shark. Sharks are only grey, not black. So it's not a shark." 

Nevermind the fact that the "shark" has been sitting in a pile of dirt for the last two weeks instead of SWIMMING in the OCEAN. Oh no. It can't be a shark because it's BLACK. 

Details. Who needs 'em.

July 10: Sometimes All You Can Do Is Walk Away

I had a small revelation tonight. The kids were nuts at bedtime this evening, and I lost my religion. After some ranting and yelling and nagging, I decided all this craziness wasn't productive in the least. Even I couldn't stand myself anymore. So, wait for it...

I walked away.

I went back downstairs, sat down on the couch with the last of my cup of coffee, and proceeded to drink it by myself. All alone. Away from the chaos. I kinda didn't know I could do that. I thought for sure they would chase after me like little yipping ankle-biters. 

I read this tonight and thought about applying it, as well:

Aaaaaaand then I remembered that they are in fact my monkeys, all four of them. So that won't work. And this is my crazy circus of a life sometimes. 

I walked away, and I realized that I probably need to do so more often. They were still crazy and not going to bed when I returned, but I wasn't crazy anymore. And that, my friends, makes a BIG difference.

July 9: Don't Be a Wimp--The Road Called PAIN Will Lead to Jesus

I got in a fight with a jar of kalamata olives today. It fell off a shelf and I caught it with my face.


Olives = 1
Jacqui = 0


I'm not hoping for a rematch anytime soon, but it makes me wonder if I'm destined to leave this life with both of my front teeth intact. They've had many close calls over the years, through no direct fault of my own--they've been cracked off, glued on, cracked off again, replaced, cracked, crowned, root canaled… I have what they call PTDED: Post Traumatic Dental Experiences Disorder.


It also could be that I'm a wimp. That's a very real possibility. You see, I don't like to be uncomfortable in the least, and I certainly don't like pain. I hate being cold and not having a sweater. I hate having to sit out in the sun and be too hot. As a child, I literally kicked and screamed when doctor's visits required shots or wart removal. Ya, I was a warty kid. It went with the braces and rainbow glasses and overall awkwardness quite nicely. I cringe at the thought of novocaine, and I absolutely, positively, without a doubt got an epidural during childbirth.


And the wimpy pain stuff may just be me, but as a culture I think we've definitely bought into the idea that pain, in all forms, is bad. We are a generation who "deserves" to be happy, and we spend our lives pursuing that goal. We get rid of spouses who no longer meet that desire and replace them with a new one who does, for a time. We overeat, overspend, and overindulge in order to make ourselves feel better. We numb out, check out, and entertain ourselves to death to avoid the emptiness and pain. We work insane hours at jobs we don't like to buy stuff we don't need to keep up with everyone else who's doing the same thing because they must be happy, right?


And heaven forbid that our children aren't happy… So we give them all trophies and stuff them with sugar and pat them on the head and tell them that they're wonderful at everything and will grow up to be the President of the United States. We hover over them at school and on the playground so that they can be happy and safe and never get hurt by anyone, or worse, never fail at something and have to learn from their mistakes.


So we get sucked into this vacuum of this comfortable American life, this American Dream, that exalts happiness above all else, but what we're left with is entitlement, ungratefulness, and an insatiable desire for more stuff to fill the void. Again.



And I'm as guilty as the next wimp, er, guy.



Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. Hebrews 11:6



I remember the day that verse cut me straight to the heart. The day that I looked at my life and saw only comfort and safety in the place where faith and risk used to thrive. The day that I realized that I hadn't had true faith in a long time, because I couldn't remember the last time that I took a risk. A real risk, one where I couldn't reasonably calculate what the outcome would be. I couldn't remember the last time I stepped out beyond myself, off the ledge, into the space where God lives and let Him work in a way that He only could when I was in that place without the ground beneath my feet. With nothing left to catch me but Him. In a place where if He didn't catch me, I'd be in big trouble. That place is called FAITH. And I hadn't been there in a while.


Faith cried, GET OUT OF YOUR DADGUM COMFORT ZONE AND TAKE A REAL RISK FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!


At least that's what it said to me. And I gotta be honest, it sounded a little like Tow Mater. We are Americans, after all…


But seriously. Maybe that's where you are today, too. It's so easy to get there. The world tells us to be comfortable and happy. To plan, to play it safe. To avoid pain at all costs. And those things in and of themselves aren't bad, but they are when they replace faith. God's thoughts are higher then ours, and they don't always make sense to us. He might ask us to take risks that defy logic and seem backwards, but when we obey in faith, He will show up because He is good and faithful. He will catch us. And we will experience the Living God. 


The LIVING GOD.


"Don't dry their tears too quickly, for they need the pain to run to Jesus."


God wants to work in our pain and discomfort, but we need to let Him. And that's hard to do because that means we need to feel it and experience it and work through it and walk along the road called Pain until we get to Jesus. If we keep walking, we will get there. And He will use our pain to do great and mighty things for His glory. Not a tear will be wasted. It's a promise.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:11-13

Disclaimer: The rant-like nature of this post is probably due to the fact that I'm running on very little sleep because of a cute toddler who shall not be named. I have no plausible excuse for the randomness.