Quiet Confidence

I'm a talker.  Anyone who knows me, knows that.  I'll talk to anyone.  About anything.  I've embarrassed my kid by initiating conversations with strangers.  On a bus.  In Chicago.  About a purse.  (What?  It was a cute purse!)

I'm a teacher, and a pastor.  Talking is an implied prerequisite for those positions.  So much to say, so little time to say it.  Almost every class I teach, from prenatal to CPR to Bible studies, ends up being too short and I wish I had more time to talk.

I'm starting to wonder if I just like to hear myself.
I'm starting to wonder if I'm beginning to get really, really sick of myself.

Isaiah 32:17 says, "The work of righteousness will be peace, And the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever" (NKJV).  The Revised Standard Version puts it this way:  "And the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust for ever."

The result of righteousness is quietness.

Now I know that Isaiah was speaking towards a cultural, national quietness - a time of peace.  But I think this verse is applicable on a personal level, too.  Because here's the thing - have you ever told a lie?  I can always tell when someone is lying because they won't stop talking!  It's like they think (ok, "they" is me, I've done it too) that if they are able to pile more and more made up details, the story will be believable.

But when you speak truth, it doesn't take a lot of words.  You don't have to make anything up.  You just simply sit in quiet, righteous assurance.  

When Jesus was accused at his trial, he didn't stutter for words.  He didn't talk fast.  He didn't talk his way out of it.  Instead, he barely spoke at all!  He showed such righteousness, such quiet confidence.  He knew who he was.  He knew whose he was.  He knew what would happen.  No amount of talking would have changed anything.

And so, I wonder . . . can I rest in the confidence of the righteousness God has ordained for me, the holiness he is producing in me?  

I recently spent time away at a women's conference.  I went alone, took no one with me, to a retreat of over 2,000 women.  I barely spoke to anyone for two days, other than "Good morning," "Hello" ... stuff like that.  I was really, really quiet.

And I heard from the Lord.  

I wonder if the purpose of quietness is to listen better, to hear more.  To focus on God more, and me less.  

Yes, I'm sure that's the purpose.  

How about you?  Could you take a day, set aside some time, and sit in quietness?  Can you listen for God's voice?  Can you be confident, trust in his peace, as you refrain from talking?  

If you decide to try, let me know.  I'd love to hear the blessings you received as a result.

The Search for Significance

I see so many people today, women and men, who are chasing a dream.  A dream life, one that fulfills and thrills and fills them.  But that dream isn't reality.  What they are finding instead is that they are filled to their emotional, mental, and intellectual brims with emptiness, empty promises that the newest book or cause or school of thought couldn't deliver.  And then next year, after that book or cause or thought didn't work, there is something new, something that promises to bring what the old way didn't bring. 

I see so many people who are exhausted.

They have nothing to give externally because internally they are depleted.  They've filled their lives with so many things - mind you, I'm not just talking about material things - but so much stuff that they are exhausted trying to keep up with it, trying to take care of everything.

What kind of things am I talking about? 

First of all, know that when I say they, I mean me!!  I see this as a universal problem for us all, at least in this part of the world.  So what kind of things?  Consider this:  We overschedule ourselves because being busy means we are important.  We serve and we give and we donate because giving means we are good.  We buy and we spend and we accumulate because stuff  means that we are successful.

And yet we are unhappy.  Frustrated.  And again, exhausted. 

I think we know we are doing this, and yet we keep struggling on, hoping and praying that the next thing we try will be the thing that makes us better, that makes us at least feel better . . .  that makes us just feel. 

What are we looking for?

We are searching for significance.  For validation.  We want the world to acknowledge that we exist, that we are here.  We realize that we might not cure cancer or create world peace.  Yet still, we long to matter.  To contribute. 

The worst part of this tragedy is that Christian men and women struggle with this same search.  We don't understand why we are here, what we were created for, what we are meant to do.

If you've been to one of my retreats or talks lately, you've heard this theme.  We were created for three things:  to love God, to love each other, and to make disciples.  THAT makes us significant.  When we love our creator, and he loves us back, that's what makes us special.  When we treat each other with loving-kindness, the kind of love that cannot be explained away, that creates peace.  When we share that love with people we don't yet know, we matter. 

I believe that God has specific, special plans for each one of us.  But you can't start there.  You begin at the beginning, right where Jesus said:  Love God.  Love your neighbor.  Go and make disciples. When you are doing those things, the rest of the plan will come.

Are you significant?  Yes.  Are you valuable?  Infinitely. 

Only in God will you find your true worth.  And only your true worth will last.  There's no book, no speaker, no teacher who can give you value.  Only the One who created your value in the first place can show you what it is. 

Stop searching.  Start loving.  Keep going.

That's the key.

What I Know About Motherhood

The sentimental mothers day cards could lead me to believe that motherhood is a journey of love and joy, of sweetness and hope, of purpose and completeness.

That's a bunch of hooey.

Today is my only child's 11th birthday. While there has been lots of love and joy, etc., there's been a lot of other stuff, too.

There's been frustration and irritation. Days when I've wondered, why is he still talking? How many messes do I have to clean up? And my favorite and most recent question: since when did farting become cool?

There have many, many days of staying in our pajamas. Of wishing time would pass quickly.

And it has. It's passed quickly, and I realize that my time with him is almost gone.

I'm a sentimental person, the kind of mom who scrapbooks and takes pictures and proclaims every moment on Facebook. But that's not what motherhood is.

Motherhood is poopy diapers. It's 3 am feedings, cleaning spit up, feeling hopeless from lack of sleep.

Motherhood is watching first steps, hearing first words, laughing at first giggles.

Motherhood is playing with dolls and trucks. It's saying, you'll have to play by yourself, Mommy has to do dishes/laundry/housework. Mommy needs to hide in the bathroom just to get a moment's peace!

Motherhood is grades, good and bad. Motherhood is fear. Worry. Guilt. Second guessing. Worry. Letting go. Holding on. Worry.

Motherhood is trusting God, all over again, every time. It's calling out to Him when worry robs you of rest. It's praying  and pleading for his/her/their future. It's praying for their friends. For their friends' friends. For their friends' parents. For anyone who could ever be an influence on your child.

It's praying for their spouse. Even now. When boys are gross and girls have cooties.

I don't think motherhood is fulfilling. Because that feeling of fulfillment tends to come and go, based on behavior and obedience and all the times you second guess yourself about whether or not you are a good mother, doing the right thing, guiding the right way.

I can only find my fulfillment through Christ. But I believe that only God could have given me this child. I was born to be his mother, and no one else, should anything ever happen to him, will mother him the same way I do. With laughter and creativity and joy. And yes, with irritation and frustration and that blech feeling that just doesn't have a name.

I can only find my fulfillment through Christ. And if I do nothing else as his mother, if he doesn't grow up to be President of the United States (which is my goal), this is one area in which I cannot fail: he, too, will only find fulfillment through Christ. Not sports, not girls, not work. God and God alone.
I write all this because i need to say that sometimes motherhood stinks. Sometimes, it's the worst. And I am the worst mother.

But thank God, it doesn't stay there. If that's not a metaphor for the Christian life, I don't know what is. Sometimes the Christian life stinks - it's hard, it's work, and we have to clean up someone else's poop.

But it doesn't stay there. It gets better. And better and better.

Just like motherhood.

Thank you, oh God, for teaching me about you by teaching me about myself. For reflecting all around me.

And thank you for this child, who is more than halfway to manhood. Who makes me laugh and cry and laugh again. Thank you for making me responsible for him, and for giving me the blessing of teaching him about you!