Salvation, Christianity, and Voting

Recently, a beloved Hollywood actor passed away and my oldest daugher asked, "Mom, was he a Christian?"  So I did what all modern moms do when they don't know the answer to a question: I Googled it.  I found an article by Christianity Today that sought to answer that question for us.  The evidence they offered on this man's life:

He was baptized at a young age.

He gave to the church and served in the church in the past.

He prayed he would land a particular role.

He referenced a Bible verse in a speech made at an award's ceremony.

The slant of the article, in my mind, used these things to indicate that he was, indeed, a Christian.  But I was troubled by the article.  There was no mention of Jesus, confession of sin, and salvation.  This man lived a "good life" and did "good things", even religious things, but is that what makes one a Christian?  I contrasted it with an interview I saw with Justin Bieber- that loved/hated pop singer- in which he spoke about his salvation. He confessed to being a sinner, being completely bad and not good at all. He spoke of Jesus saving him.  He admitted he was a complete mess and that Jesus met him in that mess.

When I compare what I see of these two lives, I admit I would very reluctantly admit that Justin Bieber lives as a Christian.  But when I heard him speak, there was no doubt that he "got it".  He knows he is a sinner in need of saving.  I'm not saying the other guy with the good life wasn't a Christian- I'm just saying that the evidence given wasn't what the Bible tells us makes a person "saved".

This is our tendency as Christians- to qualify what makes a person Christian or not.  It's a tale as old as time- we add to the simplicity of God's Word our own ideas of what it looks like to follow Him.  The Pharisees did it and we still do it today.  

Currently I see an endless stream of memes, articles, and social media posts that boil down to this: Do not call yourself a Christian if you vote for so-and-so.  Some of these things give lists of "Biblical values" like gun rights which cause me to scratch my head. Of course many refer to being pro-life (exclusively meaning anti-abortion), which I would agree is a Biblical standard.  However, these sentiments make me cringe and sadden my soul because they propagate the lie that our salvation lies in how we vote.  When we associate being Christian to a political candidate, we completely blaspheme the atoning work Jesus did on the cross.  Being a Christian means we admit we are sinners and receive the free gift of God's salvation, obtained by his death in our place.  From there, as Paul tells the Philippians, we work out our own salvation with fear and trembling.  (Philippians 2:12)

This is infinitely "harder" than following religious norms and rules. It is far more challenging to seek the guidance of scripture and allow the Holy Spirit to interpret it and speak to us personally than to follow the guidance of physical men and women with audible voices teaching us exactly how we should live.  I'm not saying godly men and women have no role in guiding us- I'm saying that ultimately, we should be seeking the Lord's personal guidance above all through reading His Word and prayer.  And applying the stamp of "Christian" and "Not Christian" is not part of the job description of Christ followers.  Especially if our criteria is anything but the blood of Jesus.

Please don't turn how others vote into a salvation issue.  Please don't equate Jesus with any particular candidate.  And don't allow anyone to bully you into voting a particular way because it is "Christian".  Do the harder work of laboring in prayer and pouring through God's Word with fear and trembling and vote according to his guidance.  Remember that we are all saved by grace, through faith, not by works, lest any man should boast. (Ephesians 2:8)

Finding Shelter

There is a sign in my entry way that reads "Let's Stay Home".   This sentiment is so "me: I am a true homebody, an introvert, someone who loves all the charms of home. Coziness, cooking, creating life in these four walls, that's my jam.  So when the order to shelter-in-place was given due to the Covid-19 outbreak, only a small part of me mourned.  In truth, much of our day-to-day lives hasn't changed all that much.  We are already well practiced in homeschooling, hanging as a family, eating at home, and finding fun here.  We are not "on the go" people. But... we do have friends.  We do participate in life outside of our house.  We enjoy trips to Target and the pool and coffee dates with friends.  A few weeks of quarantine didn't seem too difficult at the time.  But as it has stretched on ( it is the end of the seventh week at this writing) and as every day has brought some new restriction or guideline to follow, my "peace" with this arrangement has been tested. It's not fun anymore.

But like every hard thing, it has been a time of growth.  It's been a time of testing my mettle in a dozen little ways, and revealing what was already true about me.

As I said, sheltering in place has initially been a blessing. As the world has been told to slow down and stay home, I have relaxed and allowed myself a little less worry that we "aren't doing enough"- because all kids are at home now, no one is rushing around from place-to-place.  So I don't feel like we are the strange minority that lives a quiet life at home.

Comparison is a constant, even in quarantine.  As people's lives are turned upside down, I am prone to compare the struggles.  And I have felt considerable guilt that, for us, this hasn't changed life much. Josh is still working and getting his pay check direct deposited every two weeks.  Our kids are still plowing through their school work, despite the governor's forgiveness of the mandated 175 days of school.  Our pantry and freezer are stocked, we have a huge yard to play in, we have Netflix and Disney+.  But while I feel guilty that financially we are okay and others are not, I learn that this is a struggle for everyone, even me.  I have deep concerns for the welfare of children who are not in school and people who are out of work, for our crashing economy, for our freedom, for those who are quarantined alone- and I carry these as heavy burdens sometimes, with this terrible feeling that I have absolutely no control over it.  The veritable "weight of the world" on my shoulders that I am unable to bear.   While our personal circumstances are just fine at the moment, I feel deeply for those who cannot say the same.

In this feeling of helplessness, though, I am also learning daily that what we have been given is enough.  I continue to think of the little boy who offered his fishes and loaves to Jesus as a way to help feed the multitudes.  Only the faith of a child, the ignorance of what is realistic, would prompt this offering.  It could not possibly be enough. And yet, when offered to Jesus, it was. It was more than enough.  It was multiplied and there were leftovers.  So as I struggle with my feelings of helplessness to make any difference during this time, I am reminded that whatever I have is enough.  Just offer it.  The day before the official shelter-in-place order began, the kids and I made deliveries to our friends of homemade whoopie pies, jars of our own maple syrup and boxes of pancake mix, cards, letters, drawings, and other little random gifts of things we already had in the house. We called them our "Anne Frank gifts", as we did what Anne did when creating gifts to give at Hannukah while hiding in an attic from the Nazis- we just took what we had and made gifts out of it.  It seemed so paltry and yet all our friends were overjoyed.  I have loved the offerings of quarantine karaoke videos, the sharing of encouraging stories, verses, and poems, the live streamed church services, all the teachers teaching online.  Everyone feels helpless right now.  But God asks only for what we have, not what we don't. For me, that is baked goods and meals and offering encouraging Bible verses and praying for people. It is continuing to give to our church and praying for eyes to see needs we can help with. It doesn't have to feel like enough or look like enough for God to bless it.

Another revelation in this time is that my default mode continues to be self-reliance.  I have been married almost twenty years and would say that the hardest thing about marriage, for me, has been learning not to rely on myself anymore.  I went from only needing to worry about myself and take care of myself.  When I faced hard things, I could dig in and do the work to fix it without worrying about how anyone else felt.  I lived on my own strengths, fought my weaknesses with action, and did what I had to do to control my life.  There is no  place for that in marriage- two become one.  And as we have added four children over the years, I am less and less able to do the more simple work of digging just one person out of difficulty.  Now there are six of us and I just can't. But I still try! My natural reaction is to try to figure out how to fix and control things by doing something.  Being still and remembering I'm not alone in this- how is this still a struggle after twenty years?

  What I am really called to do is rest and take shelter in the shadow of the Lord's wings. Psalm 91 seems to be the chapter of the Bible most quoted during this strange season.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."

Surely he will save you from the fowlers snare and from the deadly pestilence. 

He will cover you with his feathers

and under his wings you will find refuge;

His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

Psalms 91:1,2

I am being called- maybe even forced- into a new level of trust. I am being beckoned to find my real shelter and safe place under the Lord's care, not in my own abilities to cope and make things better. Not in a government that offers me a stimulus check or unemployement if my husband is out of work.    Of course I have opinions on how this Covid-19 virus is being dealt with.  I have contacted our governor and my state representative.  I do not stick my head in the sand and frankly I REALLY REALLY REALLY WANT TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS- something  that feels better than just sending a letter that I know won't be read, something that gives proof of its effectiveness.  But what I am being asked to do is... shelter. Chill. Find refuge, find rest, trust in the Almighty.  I do not have to see that He is at work to know He is. And whatever He is working, his Word says it is exceedingly, abundantly above all I can ask or think. So I face the fact that probably what I think is best... isn't as good as what He has planned.

 And I can shelter in that.

From day one, the year 2020 has thrown me for a loop, and frankly I won't mind saying goodbye to it (is it really only May 1st?). But in the midst of this, the Lord is asking me, "Will you trust me? Will you put your faith in my Word, not in what you can see? When it all seems to blow apart,  will you continue to believe me for miracles? Will you continue to hope? Will you get to know me even better, even after all these years?"

 And my heart responds, "Yes, Lord. I will."

It. Is. Hard.  There are numerous times a day that I feel like I'm dragging myself under those sheltering wings, and then once I'm there, I still start to poke my head out.  I heard another voice!  Who is it?  Maybe they know something I can do! (Doing is what I do!)  But when I fall under His wings with abandon, when I cease striving and just rest, the relief is immense.  I don't have to do anything.

Just find shelter in the shadow of the Almighty.  He looms over me with his protection, provision, and compassion.

Just take shelter.

The Candles

Tonight we lit the third candle of Advent, the candle of Joy.  It glows tall and with golden flame next to the two we have already lit, the candles of Hope and Preparation.  We wait til next Sunday to light the candle of Love.

Each night, as the shadows creep in, we light them.  It is a new tradition for us, but one that I know will stick because the kids so eagerly anticipate it. We sit around them eating our dinner. We try to keep the littlest from blowing them out.  Usually the house is quiet and still when I finally do blow them out.  I often pause after I light them or stop to admire them when I come down the stairs.  I breath a prayer when I put them out.

They are just candles, but it seems an act of faith to light them when their names are Hope, Preparation, Joy, and Love.  Just before Advent began, a sweet little girl we know was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  We know a family that needs a new home.  Financial woes abound in everyone we know.  Relationships are broken.  The headlines are never good.

But it's Christmas.  And the simple truth is that because it is, and because of Who it is all about, we can light the candle of Hope, knowing it is not in vain.  We light the candle of Preparation and are reminded to do the one needful thing this time of year- sit alongside the shepherds and animals and worship the long-since-born King.  We can light the candle of Joy and relish the reality of that joy in the very person of Jesus Christ.  And when it comes time to light the candle of Love, we can bask in the glory that Love came down to Earth for us.

It is becoming a litany of love to consider what each candle represents as I light it each night.

Lord, infuse our friends with hope during this season of difficulty, fear, and the unknown. You are the hope of all the earth.

Lord, prepare our hearts for your second Advent; help us prepare you room.

Lord, give the oil of gladness and peace for despair.  May all our joy be found in you.

Lord, Jesus, help us to love like you. May we know the heights, the depths, the lengths of your love for us.

Even so, come Lord Jesus.

On Charlottesville

My heart has been heavy this week over Charlottesville- that white supremacist rally that escalated and ended in the death of a young woman.  It's the hatred, the polarization, the politicizing. It grieves me so deeply.

But most of all, I am saddened by the division among believers, members of the body of Christ, when it comes to this outward display of racism.  In my mind's eye, our only response should be outright, unequivocal condemnation of this event (which is really an ideology).  Our words should say, "We are sorry. We weep with you.  We love you.  Lord, forgive us for such an atrocity against your dearest creation."

Instead, we caved to the media hype, and the words that came out were defensive, argumentative, and much like the President's.  "Hey, this is a shame, but...."  Excuses.  Defending memorials, political positions, our own ideologies.  Not standing in love and support for the hurting, but minimizing it.  Not being like Jesus.

I am heart broken over this.  The only record we have of Jesus's life is in the only book we call Holy, the Bible, and I never once saw Jesus defend a political stance or party. I never once saw him make excuses for hatred.  I never once read that he told us to defend ourselves. In fact, he set the highest example for us by not answering back his accusers as they were convicting him of dubious "crimes" before crucifying him.  He never once declared himself "not guilty" though it was true.  We cannot say the same, even when it comes to racism.  But instead of owning the sin's of our nation, instead of taking the hits from the media, we fight back.

I expect to be divided from those who scorn the gospel, but I don't expect it among those of us who claim Jesus as our Savior.  As a body, we are more and more polarized, and though it may be futile, I strive to figure out why. I pray, I seek the Lord, I seek His Holy Word.  Yes, of course we have differences of preference and some differences of interpretation- these should be minor things.  Drinking, dress, order of worship. But is there any leeway in how we view people, created in God's image?  Each and every one of us, regardless of gender, race, religion, nationality?  Shouldn't we be quick to defend life, no matter what?  Instead, we defend our politics.

I want to own my anger and frustration at some of my fellow Christians because of the things they have said and done and written for all the world to see, and those who have backed them.  I am angry.  Actually, I am heart-broken, and that leads to anger.  And yet, I want to humble myself and recognize that most of these people love Jesus dearly.  I want to see them as He does, I want to give them grace, and not harbor resentment in my heart.  I'm struggling with this.  I don't want to think I have it all figured out, and everyone else is wrong.  But I think we are so far from the gospel sometimes.  And we are losing a battle, not for America, but for eternity.

Friends, I know we have many fears for our nation.  I have more fears for the body of Christ.  We belong to Jesus and I think it is long past time to act like it.  If we are led as lambs to the slaughter, so be it.  We are in good company.


"He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth."  Isaiah 53:7

I Give It a Year

Last July, we were having dinner at a really fantastic restaurant with our dearest friends who were visiting from Florida. It was a beautiful summer evening, the food was incredible, the company was the best. But I was trying so hard not to cry.

Not that the whole meal was like that, but when the conversation got around to how we were doing and how life was going, it got real.  These were the people we could be totally honest with, and the truth was still so painful. We were just so lonely, so discouraged, so empty feeling, still, even though it had been five years since we had moved.  I could barely speak because I just didn't want to cry.

I think it was that evening that made my husband say something the next day that I took really seriously.

"I give it one more year."

I wrote his words on that day in July on the 2017 calendar. "Josh gave it one more year."

I was holding him to it.  If July 2017 rolled around and things hadn't gotten better, we were moving on.  Leaving the state, selling everything, gone. (No drama intended)

But what "things" am I talking about?  What really needed to get better?  Josh finally had a stable job in a great paper mill. In fact, he had never worked at a mill so long before it shut its doors.  We had another baby after that move, a child we never would have expected, but that brought us so much joy.  Financially, we were debt free (minus the mortgage).  In so many ways, things looked just right.

But there was the loneliness, the lack of deep relationships with people in our new hometown, feeling like we had no "home team".  It seemed like everywhere I turned, I was hearing messages about how you need to make time for friendship, you need to have an inner circle of friends, you need people in your life, and I thought "If I hear this message one more time, I will really, truly lose my mind!" Because the truth is, you can't just make that happen. You can try and try and try, but you can't build meaningful relationships on your own.  We did try, and try, and try, but it just didn't seem to fall into place.

There was the disillusionment with ministry.  We were serving and serving and serving, but in several ways we just weren't called to or gifted to.  Because we wanted to help so much, we were doing things that were wearing us down instead of building us up.

All around me, it seemed like the modern-day MO of Christian women was to do way too much, get completely burnt out, give up everything, get "better", and then write a book or blog series or create a webinar series on how you could get better, too.  Over and over again I saw this, and I began to wonder if that was what I was headed for.  Complete burn out, to the point of not even being able to do the things I knew for sure I was called to do (like homeschool my children).

Making peace with what the Lord was calling us to for a long time was hard.  Not because it didn't promise freedom, but because it meant going against the grain, giving up ministries, leaving a church, disappointing people and still not having the entire plan mapped out for us.  In fact, I think that is something the Lord is wanting me to surrender daily: the need to know what is next.  To just live this day fully and faithfully and trust that tomorrow will move us forward, even if we can't see it.

We began to step out in faith in a few areas where the Lord was calling us. We started a home Bible study in September, something we had always wanted to to.  I admit, I was not hopeful at all that anyone would come. I was supportive, but not encouraging.  I invited the only people I knew in the area, the families that attend our homeschool co op.  Lo and behold, people came! The Lord is building an amazing little family of believers through this home Bible study.  On a recent evening we were talking with kids about what a blessing it was to have friends over, and Brown-Eyed Girl said in a serious and quakey voice, "I don't feel lonely anymore."

We stepped out very painfully and made a change in churches.  We had resisted for a long time, but it was so freeing when we relinquished our leadership roles and chose to follow the Lord into a season of rest.  For now, we just go to church on Sunday and sit in the service and feed on the Word of God.  Our two oldest children are beside us.  We can just soak it in. It sounds so selfish because we are so used to serving, but what an incredible blessing it has been.  And so needed.  In faith, we believe this season of rest is another part of preparation for what is coming.

We finally, finally feel like we have a home team!  When we got to the park, we're not alone anymore. I have girlfriends to chat over coffee with while the kids are being goofballs together.  Every single one of us is kind of in awe that we finally, finally have a group of friends to "do life with".  Our house is bustling with friends more and more often and the food is being dished up and the coffee is pouring and I LOVE IT! This is what I am made for.  This is what we are called to do right now.

There were a lot of ugly tears over the past five and half years.  There was depression. I will honestly say it felt so dark sometimes. But here is the blessing: There was always light. Always. There was always a peace that we were right in the center of the Lord's will, that he was teaching us, preparing us, blessing us for trying to be faithful. As hard as it was, I wouldn't trade it in for five and half blissful years. Because we would never have learned what we did, we wouldn't have depended on the Lord as we had to.  I have no regrets or bitterness because this was all in the Lord's hands.  There is no blame. We had to go through this.

We have grown and matured in ways we never would have without it, we have more compassion, more understanding for other lonely people who are on the fringes.  We have learned so much about grace and conflict resolution and freedom in Christ.  We have learned that those desires of our heart that seem so unfulfilled are worth clinging to because they are from the Lord.  And he can fulfill them as no one else can.

The other night, Josh and I were on a date and a song that means a lot to me came across the speakers. This song was a promise the Lord made me in January of 2013.  If you have followed my blog, maybe you will remember my post about it.  I remember that day so well, my absolute brokeness, but God speaking to me through the words of a song:

Just know you're not alone,

I'm gonna make this place your home.

Guess what? Our year is up (the one I was going to hold Josh to!) and this promise is fulfilled.  This place is finally that home we were hoping for.  And because of some other promises God has made us, I'm pretty sure the best is yet to come.


I am sharing all of this not because it's easy, but because it is real.  And it testifies to God's goodness.  I actually wrote this post more than a month ago, but didn't share it, because it's vulnerable and not intended to hurt anyone.  But this morning I got a message from a friend.  She had texted me some pictures of an event we went to last night with a big group of friends, pictures of the kids having the time of their lives. And she said, "These pictures make me think of your One More Year story."  And it choked me up because the Lord has been so faithful.

And I just had to share that.

From Death to Life- My Easter Story

This is my favorite week of the year.  Liturgically,  it is known as Holy Week.  It all begins with Palm Sunday and ends with Resurrection Sunday, what we all call Easter.  Even as a girl, Easter was the biggest holy-day of the calendar year. New dress and shoes and tights.  Egg hunts.  Church breakfast after sunrise service. And while most Sundays I was just distracting myself with coloring or my imagination during the sermon, Easter was the one week that I paid attention. It was the week the pastor brought the message of Jesus in a big way.  I would tingle with excitement over his words.

I grew up and I rejected God, though.  I still believed in him,  I probably even went to Easter service and felt some stirrings inside, but I was not a follower of Jesus. In February of 1999, though, my brother started bugging me to go to church with him.  "This place is different," he said.  He bothered me enough that I finally agreed to get out of bed one Sunday morning and go.

Walking into that church, which didn't look like a church, I immediately knew something was different.  It wasn't just the informality of dress, or the lack of pews.  I sensed that people wanted to be there. When the worship music began, to a full band, it was easy to join in and sing- and sing, they did. They raised their hands in worship.  It seemed to me an alternate universe compared to the churches I had grown up in- and yet, it was also familiar. I remembered how to find books in my Bible. I had heard some of these songs here and there. I had heard the Bible passage many times. The strangest thing was this:

A young man I had grown up going to church with was passing by and my brother stopped him. This kid, he and his brothers had gone wild and crazy in high school. They had gotten into drugs and had a punk band. I had heard the rumors.  All three of these guys were in church.  My brother asked this youngest one, "Have you decided if you're joining the army or not?" And his reply? " I don't know, man. Whatever the Lord wants. Whatever the Lord wants."

This blew me away.  Left me speechless.  I had never heard anyone talk this way, let alone an eighteen year old.  Whatever the Lord wants?  What is that?! What about what you want?

The teaching from the Bible was different, too.  The pastor taught with power and excitement. I could tell he knew his stuff and I liked that.  What he said was interesting. And I was compelled to come back to this alternate church universe. I went again that night. And from then on, I kept going Sunday morning and Sunday night. I sometimes went by myself.  Each time, I was getting more and more convinced in my heart that I needed Jesus. And I really, really wanted him, too.  There was this incredible balance of conviction of my sin, but also the depth of God's love for me. That Easter Sunday, April 4th, 1999, I left the service having made my final decision. I was following Jesus. No turning back.

Perhaps that's why, still, this time of year means so much to me.  I look back over my life and see the Lord's fingerprints in so many ways. He was drawing me to himself, luring me, wooing me, stirring in my empty heart and making me long for him.  I tried to fulfill that longing in so many other ways, but when I found the real Lover of my Soul, I was all in.  Not that I didn't fail and mess up and still look back over my shoulder now and then, but he always gave me the power to turn back around and follow him.  My life today is what it is because of Jesus. Plain and simple.

This time of year, especially in Maine, we start to see the dead things around us come alive. Spring is so glorious and so appreciated after the long, cold winter.  I love that Easter happens at this time of year.  Because that is what Easter is all about- the dead being raised to life!  First, Jesus was crucified and died.  But then on the third day, he rose from the grave.  And because of that, he can bring us who are spiritually dead to life!  I have experienced this first-hand and when I go back to those months when I was falling in love with Jesus and to that Easter Sunday when I decided to wholeheartedly follow him, I truly can weep.  Not out of lingering shame or sadness, but out of incredible, awe-filled joy.  He loved me as I was.  He was wooing me my whole life. He never gave up on me even when I rejected him. And when I finally responded, his arms were wide open.  That is love like I had never known.


I turned eighteen this year.  So spiritually speaking, I'm an adult now?  Laughable.  I have not forgotten what it was like to be "reborn".  This is a song I love, one that takes me back and reminds me of how I came alive eighteen years ago as a twenty-year-old.

What was I waiting for?

I came alive when I let go.

All I had was a broken heart,

then he held me in his arms.

Called to Obscurity

I creep out of bed early each morning, so as not to wake the little munchkin lying beside me in bed.  I crave some solitude the first few moments of each day, some time to read my Bible and sip my coffee leisurely with just the crackle of the wood fire going.  As I tiptoed down the stairs this morning just after six o'clock, I whispered a prayer. "Just a half an hour Lord, please!"  As I rounded the corner, the sliding glass doors came in to view, along with the most breathtaking bright pink sunrise in a thick stripe behind the tree line.  It stopped me in my tracks and I blessed the Lord for it, the words of an old song in my mind, "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world."

Truthfully, the world isn't always wonderful.  The past few weeks have been particularly dark for some people we know and love dearly.  We've had our own challenges, too.  A bright pink sunrise painted across the sky is obviously beautiful. Death and heart sorrow and disease, not so much.

Today, in my Bible reading (and I got more than that requested half hour!), Psalm 50 said several times that God desires our thanks. 

 "What I want instead (of your sacrifices) is your true thanks to God." vs 14. 

 "But giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me." vs 23

Over in Mark 13, another chapter I read, several times Jesus reminds us he is coming soon.

"You can be sure that his return is very near, right at the door."

"And since you don't know when they will happen, stay alert and keep watch."

"So keep a sharp lookout! For you do not know when the homeowner will return... Don't let him find you sleeping when he arrives without warning... Watch for his return !" vs 35-37

I often wonder, how should we live in these dark days?  I see the signs all around me that our world is falling apart, that Jesus really could return at any moment.  And I tend to feel  so helpless and useless when I consider this.  Who am I saving?  Who am I pulling from the fires of hell?  The world out there is lost and dying, and I spend most of my days never even leaving my home.  Often, my only engagement with the real world is via Facebook (and, boy, that can bring you down and remind you of the total depravity of man).  I do feel insignificant most days and long to be a light to the world.

Recently, another passage from Mark ministered to me.  In Mark 9, vs 30 and 31, it says "Jesus tried to avoid all publicity in order to spend more time with his disciples and teach them."  For 30 years, Jesus lived an obscure life in a little village of unknown people. He was a carpenter.  He cared for his widowed mother, went to weddings and funerals, celebrated the holy days, all of it as a regular guy, no fanfare, no miracles, no glowing head signifying his Deity.  And even after he began his earthly ministry, even with only three years to teach and perform miracles and healings and tell the good news of the Kingdom, he still tried to avoid his paparazzi.  It was important to him to get away and be alone with his disciples, the twelve guys that would carry the message of the gospel long after he ascended to heaven.  He wasn't about the Jesus Show, all the outward manifestations of his power and glory.  He was about people.  Teaching.  Discipling. Being faithful to train up the ones he was given.

This blesses me.  I've got my own little brood of disciples and more and more I realize how little time I have left with my oldest one.   Five and a half years at home, and then he may be gone.  The others will trickle out of the house, too, and this is good.  But it sobers me.  As I think of watching and waiting for Jesus and the possibility of his return at any hour, and wonder what on earth I am doing for his kingdom as I live in obscurity within my own four walls, I am heartened as I look at the life of my Savior.  I realize that my life is following a similar pattern.  The needs outside my walls are pressing, but this is the work I have been called to do right now: get away with my little disciples and teach them.

We have recently been laying all our commitments out on the table and taking each one to the chopping block, so to speak.  This is hard, as we do many good things.  There are many things we are not sure of, but there are a few callings we are positive of.  And one of them is to disciple our children.  The Lord has called us away from some of the good things we have been doing in order to minister to our family better.  It is what he has called us to do for now, as we watch and wait for his return.  Even to us, it seems a little counter intuitive to leave some ministries behind, but he continues to confirm it to us.

And back to Psalm 50, and giving thanks.  As I watch and wait, maybe the simple, but perfect, answer on how to live is to be continually thankful.   Even that can be a sacrifice and offering for it does not always come easily.  How do we thank him for broken relationships and death and illness? For war and prejudice and evil?   These things, like no other, certainly make me thankful that he is returning soon.  But how do I thank him for the banana thrown on the floor (again) and the bickering among my children?  I'm not always sure in the moment, but as I look back on my years as a mom, I see that even in these frustrations, something beautiful has grown.  I have learned to loose my hold on "perfection" because it is not here yet.  It belongs to another time and place.

For now, I am called to a holy life of little but great things, and to a life of thanksgiving through it all. No great blog following or teaching ministry or book deal.  But when I finally hear those little feet hit the floor and come thumping downstairs, and that little voice calling my name, whether I got my half hour or not, I know the sweetness of obscurity.  And I do give thanks for it.

Photo note: These photographs were sent to me recently, on Baby B's second birthday, by my girl Sara, taken back in October.