The Regulative Principle of Worship and How My Floors Got Muddy

There is a school of thought that says that God has given us strict and detailed instructions on how we are to worship Him and any deviation from these instructions or any addition to them is wrong. This topic comes up with some frequency in our household. Well, an interesting example of this occurred yesterday.

I had been cleaning all morning trying to get the house in some kind of order for the Bible study I was hosting that afternoon. After lunch I sent the kids outside to play. A few minutes later Evangeline excitedly ran inside with a little flower for me and Malachi quickly followed her with a bouquet of his own. But before I even looked at the flowers I noticed the trail of muddy footprints that followed my children across the freshly mopped floors. I’ve told them before to not come in the house with their boots on. At that moment I didn’t want their extra offerings- the flowers they picked for me- all I wanted was their obedience. They would have shown their love for me so much more if they had not picked the flowers, but rather obeyed me and not caused extra work for me. So the thought that God is picky about how we worship started to make sense. All the extra ways of worship aren’t actually pleasing to Him if they aren’t what He wants.

But if we stop there then aren’t we just right back to a gospel of works?

After I scolded the children and they showed remorse for disobeying me, I then turned my attention to the beautiful flower offerings. I gushed about how beautiful they were and I added them to my flower vase over the sink. I kissed my babies on their heads and thanked them for bringing me something so beautiful. No, they didn’t get it right. Yes, I still had a mess to clean up. But I know they were trying to please me and show me how they think I’m a special person. If I can forgive my children’s mistakes and accept their imperfect offerings then surely God can do even better. He demands holiness, but this little thing called Grace comes into play more than we realize. God’s favor toward us can overlook millions upon millions of stupid things we do. He still kisses us on our heads and He knows that we think He’s pretty special. And someday we’ll be able to show Him true, perfect worship when all our sin is stripped away. Oh, what a happy day that will be!

Why I Hate Doing the Thing I Love

I've got a love/hate relationship going on with homeschooling. Yeah, I know it's the right thing to do, but sometimes I feel like I can't take the stress anymore. And I'm not talking about the daily stress of trying to get everything done around the house, take care of a baby and a toddler and teach two school-aged kids. I'm talking about the stress of comparing myself to other homeschoolers and feeling like I'm continually coming up short. It's like everyone else is in the know and I'm the only one who can't seem to figure this thing out. I know that's not true, but I still feel it. I hate wondering if my kids are behind because I'm not teaching them well enough or maybe they're just not as smart as the other kids. And I'd hate, hate, hate for my beautiful kids to ever feel that I think they're not smart enough. Because I know that my children are learning and their little souls are being feed and nurtured.

I know that Jesus has equipped me with everything I need to be a good teacher and mommy to these kids. But still I feel like a failure. I guess this is where the whole grace thing comes in. Even if/when I make mistakes, God's got me covered. He's not going to let my kids fall by the wayside because I'm not a perfect teacher. If He wants them to grow up to be well-learned, faithful disciples then He's going to make that happen- even if all He has to work with is little old me.

I can't fail. Even if all I can manage is a feeble attempt then God is going to take that and run with it. If He can create an entire human race from a pile of dirt, surely He can use me to mold my children into something beautiful.

My Calling

Lately I’ve been feeling discouraged. I feel like the work I do day after day is endless, thankless and just plain yucky. Some days I feel like I can’t possibly wipe one more poopy bum or deal with one more temper tantrum. I feel like a stable boy whose most important task is to shovel manure- every single day. Now, I know how important it is to have that manure shoveled and I know that if there wasn’t anyone willing to shovel it, then the whole farm would feel (and smell) the effects of that neglect. But that doesn’t make shoveling the manure any easier or any more fulfilling.

So here I am, shoveling away. Most of the time no one even notices that I’m the one clearing out all that yuck. And even if someone does notice they usual don’t bother to thank me. I’m just doing my job, after all. I know this is my part of the Kingdom work. I know that I’m down here in the muck and goo because this is where Jesus wants me to be. I know that the reason I’m lonely here is because there aren’t many others who are willing to be down here, too. And so I’m shoveling manure to the glory of God. There won’t be any glorious mountaintop moments here in the sewage- no, we don’t get any of those down here. I won’t ever be pretty and clean like the other women I see and even if, for a brief moment, I do manage to make myself presentable I’ll only slip and fall in a fresh pile of dung and be right back where I started- right back where I belong.

Yes, I am feeling pretty low right now. No, I don’t always feel like this. But right now I can’t seem to see past my own filthy nose. And yet, there is a tiny voice I still hear- a voice that’s telling me to hang in there and keep on shoveling because Jesus sees it all. He notices the work I do and He sees my face beneath the perpetual layer of grime. And He’s the one standing right next me, knee deep in it all, with a shovel in His hand, too. And I know that someday- maybe years from now, maybe minutes- He will pick me up, straighten out my aching back and gently wipe away all the dung, filth and tears from my face. And then I will hear the words that will make it all worthwhile, “Well done. You did all this for Me and I saw it all- every gross job you did and every hopeless day you faced. You’ve done it all and there’s no more dirty work for you to do. Come now and rest with Me. I’m so proud of you, my beautiful girl.”

Yes, that’s the thought that keeps me plodding along. So now I must pick up my shovel and roll up my sleeves. I’ve got work to do.

A Happy Thought

Yesterday I gave the kids ice cream with chocolate sauce for a special snack. Their excitement was palpable. They laughed as I spooned out the ice cream. And as I poured on the chocolate sauce they eagerly called to each other to sit down at the table so they enjoy this wonderful treat. Their giggles and enjoyement continued as long as the ice cream lasted. It made me so happy.

And then I thought: Is this how God feels when He gives me a gift? Does He feel this much joy in seeing me be happy? Of course, the answer is no- He feels more. He has even more joy in being my Father than I have in being a mother.

Wow. What a thought!

The Countdown

As you may have noticed, today is January 3rd. This means that I have but one more month to wait until my due date. I'm at that stage of pregnancy where everything is related to The Baby. An event only has relevance if it somehow pertains to the birth of The Baby. Time has one purpose- to bring the birthday of The Baby. If you've ever been pregnant or lived with a pregnant woman, then you understand what I'm trying to say here.

I'm so excited to meet Baby Boo face to face and to be rid of that derned relaxin hormone that is making my body feel all googily. (Yes, that is a technical term.) I'm usually tired and cranky and I hurt most days. But hey, it's all worth it for that beautiful "pregnancy glow!" Did I mention I'm also a bit sarcastic these days, too?

Seriously, I'm so thankful that we have another precious life growing and getting ready to join our family. I love my three kids so incredibly much and I know that mommy love just grows with each new recipient. This new little person will be the perfect addition to our family.

I ran across this open letter in a fellow expectant parents' blog and I thought it was too funny not to share. I can so relate!

An Open Letter from My Best Pal

15 Things I'm Not Ashamed Of

Gaby tagged me for this "15 Things I'm not ashamed of" ditty and since I've never been tagged before, I thought it'd be fun to follow through and write down these 15 things.

15 Things I’m not ashamed of:
1. I like to sing Psalms.
2. At this moment I look like a rough representation of what a walrus would look like after eating a heavy Thanksgiving dinner with a bowling ball for dessert.
3. My kids are ordinary. Yes, they are very special to me, but I’m not ashamed to say that they aren’t all that out-of-the-ordinary.
4. I don’t celebrate Christmas.
5. I do celebrate the Sabbath.
6. I can’t cook rice, make certain kinds of fudge or chewy peanut butter cookies (unfortunately for my husband.)
7. I got married at 18 and started having kids right away. Folks around here assume that getting married young and having a baby so soon means we weren’t “pure” before our marriage or “responsible” after getting married. Some people are subtle as they do the math, but others just ask outright: “How old are you? And how old is your oldest child?”
8. I stay home and care for my own kids.
9. I struggle on and off with depression.
10. I like the smell of gasoline- except when I’m pregnant.
11. I often laugh so hard that I start sobbing and can’t stop.
12. I like shopping at Wal-Mart and Pier1. Polar opposites, but good stuff at both places.
13. I’m addicted to buying coffee mugs (especially from Pier1.) Just bought two new ones yesterday.
14. I’m part of an odd church that a lot of people don’t like. We’re too serious for them.
15. These Internet questionnaires are really just desperate cries for love and attention. We all want someone to know these things about us, but no one listens long enough to get to know us this well. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m so hungry for love that I’ve settled for writing this little blurb rather than try to find someone who will listen and care in person.

My Memory

Today I was remembering a history lesson Mom had given us back in 6th or 7th grade. It was someting I'd had an attitude about at the time, but I realized that I remembered more of it than I thought I did. What's more, I cared about this topic now.

"How about that?" I thought. "Mom actually knew what she was doing when she taught us. She taught me to care about this stuff. I should tell her that. She'd get a kick out of hearing me say that after all this time."

It only took half a second or so before I remembered that I couldn't tell Mom. It's been over five years now since she died. You'd think I'd be able to remember that.

A Suggestion

About a year ago, my family and I were out taking a leisurely Sabbath afternoon walk and our steps took us past the local nursing home. There were a few elderly patrons sitting outside enjoying the fresh air and they were staring and smiling at the kids so we walked over to say hi. They introduced themselves as Paul and Betty. Betty lives at the home and Paul, her husband, constantly comes to visit her. We said we'd come see them again and they were excited at the prospect.

It's been over a year now and we've been visiting Paul and Betty on various Sundays ever since. We try to make it every other week or so. We've also made a few new friends there. Ginny, a single woman who lives at the home and doesn't have any family nearby is always thrilled to see us. She doesn't remember us from visit to visit, but the kids always bring a smile (and sometimes tears) to her face.

I'm mentioning all this because this experience has been a really good thing for our family. We are training our kids to be unselfish with their time and to be kind to others. The kids used to be a little scared of the older folks, but now they ask every Sunday, "Can we go see the elderly today?" God gave us this little ministry and we are so glad He did. Each time we visit the elderly and bless them through the simple joy of a young child's hug, it's as though we are doing it to Jesus and we, in turn, will be blessed for it.

There are some weeks that I don't want to go to the nursing home and there have been times when we didn't go when perhaps we shouldn't have skipped it. So we're not perfect here. But I feel it our duty to share this tiny way in which we are endeavouring to obey Jesus and to suggest to you that you do the same. Your ministry will be different from ours and maybe visiting a nursing home isn't practical for you, but please consider doing something. Jesus is pretty clear when He told us to visit the sick, prisoners, etc.

Anyway, like I said, each of our ministries will look different, but may I encourage you to be sure you are ministering in some way?

Happy Anniversary To Us!!!

Today marks the sixth year of marriage for Joshua and me. Six years doesn't sound like a very long time, but these last six years have felt like a lifetime. I can't express enough what a joy it is to spend my life with my best friend. And if the first six years have been this great, I can't wait to see what the rest of our lives will be like.

Cinderella

I was in the basement doing laundry, wearing my sweats with holes in them and a baggy t-shirt. I shook my disheveled hair out of my face and looked up the stairs to see Malachi standing at the top in the basement doorway.

"Hello, princess!" he called down cheerfully.

And for a brief moment I remembered: yes, I am a princess.

From One Ragamuffin to Another

A new book recently came my way- The Ragamuffin Gospel, by Brennan Manning. (Yes, this was the book that inspired the naming of Rich Mullins' band.) I've heard some not so great things about Mr. Manning, but I was so moved by his intro into the book, that I wanted to share it. I haven't decided if I'll continue reading this book, but I am glad I read this beginning:

"This book is not for the super-spiritual.
It is not for the muscular Christians who have made John Wayne and not Jesus their hero.
It is not for academicians who would imprison Jesus in the ivory tower of exegesis.
It is not for the noisy, feel-good folks who manipulate Christianity into a naked appeal to emotion.
It is not for Alleluia Christians who live only on the mountaintop and have never visited the valley of desolation.
It is not for the fearless and tearless.
It is not for red-hot zealots who boast with the rich young ruler of the gospels: "All these commandments I have kept from my youth."
It is not for the complacent, hoisting over their shoulder a tote bag of honors, diplomas, and good works actually believing that have it made.
It is not for legalists who would rather surrender control of their souls to rules than run the risk of living in union with Jesus.

If anyone is still reading along, The Ragamuffin Gospel was written for the bedraggled, beat-up and burnt-out.
It is for the sorely burdened who are still shifting the heavy suitcase from one hand to the other.
It is for the wobbly and weak-kneed who know they don't have it altogether and are too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace.
It is for the inconsistent, unsteady disciples whose cheese is falling off their cracker.
It is for poor, weak, sinful men and women with hereditary faults and limited talents.
It is for earthen vessels who shuffle along on feet of clay.
It is for the bent and the bruised who feel that their lives are a grave disappointment to God.
It is for smart people who know they are stupid and honest disciples who admit they are scalawags."

Great words, right? Now go back and read it again and this time, whenever he says "this book" or "The Ragamuffin Gospel" replace it with "The Gospel of Jesus."

That's me he's talking about. And you. I'm a ragamuffin Christian. I don't have it all together. I don't know what I'm talking about most of the time. I'd much rather do things my way than obey my God. And this gospel is for me.

"This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief."

Amen.

A Glimpse of Gold

Today I walked into the living room in time to see the three kids huddled together with Malachi praying: "...and please help Lily to not be scared of the Bad Guy. In Jesus' name, Amen."
Evangeline added her hearty " 'men!" and then they were set to go back to reading their book with the Bad Guy in it.

I feel like a failure so much of the time, but occasionally I get to see some area in which I've actually done well. The kids knew that when they are scared, the thing to do is pray. By God's grace, Joshua and I taught them that.

Thank you, God, for telling me "Well done" today.

Onward and Upward

I recently posted this over at MovingTruth.com and I thought I'd pull a Seth cheater move and get two posts for the price of one.

I think everyone here at Moving Truth agrees that as Christians we have the great privilege and responsibility to mimic our Creator by being creative and sharing that creativity with the world. What I have been recently struck with is the thought that it is also our responsibility to improve our efforts in our art. God never wants anything to stagnate. If we are to be growing in our knowledge and love for Him doesn’t it follow that we are to grow in our creativity, too? I’m not saying that we should all join a class or buy a stack of instructional books and attempt to reach impossible standards , but rather that we should avoid becoming lazy and complacent in our art. I feel that I all too often settle for doing something half-hearted. “I’m too busy” or “I’m too tired” are usually my excuses. While it’s true that a busy life does leave a limited time frame for working and experimenting with one’s art , it should never be an excuse for laziness.

I am a wife, a homemaker and a mommy to three adorable, but rambunctious little kids so, yeah, my time is not my own. But I am also an artist. If God has seen fit to bless me with my talents then I will strive to do my best to use these talents to bring glory to Him and to further His kingdom. I do not have the time, resources, or knowledge that some have to pursue art, but I will not let that be an excuse to bury my talents in the ground.

I’m certainly not saying that anyone here is guilty of this. Everything I’ve seen of this site shows quite the opposite, in fact. But I figured that since complacency is a temptation for me that other artists may struggle with it, too. This responsibility to improve in our creative arts is great, but if we are faithful with what God has entrusted to us then we will reap many, many blessings.

Happy Reformation Day!

On this day that we remember the brave men and women in history who mightily changed the church to serve our God better let us also remember this great hymn that urges us to fight just as they did.
This battle hymn is one of my favorites and it never fails to remind me of the power of God to win this war. I may lose hope some days, but our great General Jesus is still leading us to a sure victory.
All praise to our Mighty Fortress!

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.

To My Parents

"To Dad who only reared twelve children and to Mother who reared twelve only children."

That is the dedication for the book "Cheaper By The Dozen." When I first read that several years back I thought that was a rather odd way of putting it, but only recently I realized that I understood it perfectly.

In my family, though, it was reversed. My mom only raised five children. We would always be hearing other people exclaiming at the size of our family, but I never once heard Mom say that we were a handful or that our house was chaotic because of the kids that lived there. She didn't seem to realize that she had a larger than typical family- she just raised us, clothed us, fed us and, most of all, loved us like it was no big deal.

My dad raised five only children. I think I can speak for each of my siblings when I say we all know that we're Dad's favorite kid. Whether he's talking on the phone or enjoying a meal with us or if he's helping out by watching the kids or sending gifts to grandkids, he has a way of making whomever he's interacting with feel like the most important person in the world.

Maybe I'm a bit biased here, but I know that my parents are the best parents I could ever wish for. And I say that fully aware of their imperfections and sin.

So many times I wish I could say thank you once again to my mommy. She sacrificed so much to love me. But I'm so very grateful that I still have many oppotunities to say this to my dad:
"Thank you, Dad, thank you. I love you."

A Praise For the Little Things

Today I ate a banana with peanut butter on it and it was so scrumptious! It was such a small thing, but it sure put a smile on my face. Do you believe that one reason God made bananas and peanuts all those thousands of years ago was so I could enjoy my banana with peanut butter today? I do.


"Praise to the Lord...
Surely His goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.
Ponder anew what the Almighty can do,
If with His love He befriend thee.

Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him!
All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him.
Let the Amen sound from His people again,
Gladly for aye we adore Him."

Good Blog Post from Fritz

Once again, Fritz has written something profound that I felt I should share with you all (though I realize that most of you who read this blog also reads his.)

When it Doesn't Feel Like We are Winning

"A thing of great comfort to me is that we do not serve a lofty God who commands from the rear and is distant. Our God isn't the king who has become great on the backs of his slaves, rather He became lowly to make us great. There is not a tragedy or pain that He has not already felt for us. There is not a sorrow or test that He has not overcome. But even our great Savior understands the feeling of sorrow and loss."

These are truths that we've all heard before, but sometimes it's so good to be reminded of them. Thanks, Jonathan.

John Piper: What I Said at My Granddaughter's Funeral

What I Said at My Granddaughter's Funeral

I found this very moving. I greatly admire John Piper as he is a man who has sacrificed his entire life to God. I appreciated seeing how he deals with grief, both in the death of his father and granddaughter, in a very Godly manner.

Happy Mother's Day

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining with all its brilliance, the sky was that shade of blue that makes you want to dance and the clouds were like puffs of pure white cotton hanging in the never ending blueness. I could feel the warm breeze on my face as I sped along on my trusty rollerblades.

I lifted my face to bask in the ethereal warmth when suddenly, from out of nowhere, a brick wall loomed up in front of me. I didn’t even have time to react. I couldn’t stop. I crashed into that solid wall going full speed, totally unprepared. The pain was blinding. I felt something shatter in my chest. It felt like shards of glass were exploding inside me, tearing holes in my veins and shredding my lungs to pieces. Breathing was impossible. Blackness. I had never known such pain.

That’s how I felt when my mom died.


Why do I write this?, you ask. First, believe it or not, it’s actually helpful for me. If I were to try to deny the existence of that pain then I would be a liar. If I forgot that pain then I would forget what I was rescued from.
Secondly, I hope to show you folks out there who still have your mom living on this earth what it was like to lose my mom so you can more fully appreciate your own mom.

When I change a yucky diaper I think about all my diapers that my mom changed. When I wake up in the middle of the night to care for a fussy baby I think about all the sleep my mom went without to care for me. When I’m exasperated at my children I think about what I must have put my mom through. And when I’m lonely during the day and ache for someone to talk to I remember how I could call my mom anytime to talk to her about anything and she would listen and understand.
Sure, my mom drove me crazy at times. It’s in the mother-daughter contract to get on each others nerves now and then. But she was my best friend and I loved her. And she loved me.

Imagine if your mom died today. Imagine never hearing her voice on the other end of the phone again. Imagine never again feeling her love for you. Is there something you would wish you had told her? Did you give her a hug the last time you saw her? Does she know that you truly appreciate everything she sacrificed for you? Does she know you love her?

Tell her. You never know if that brick wall will appear suddenly in front of you.

An Important Discovery

I have discovered an important truth: There is a limited amount of Cleanness in the world and each household is allotted a certain amount (some are given more than others.) I’ve found that I have just enough Cleanness for one room in my house to be Clean at a time- two if I spread it out pretty thinly. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to get my entire house clean, I will never succeed because I simply haven’t been allotted enough Cleanness.

Discovering this truth has made my life a lot easier. I now know that I’m not a failure at housekeeping- I’m just a victim of poor Cleanness distribution. I can relax now because really, who am I to try to defy the laws of Clean?