One More Truth

Reflections on faith, truth, and being human

God is my president

by 9 Comments

So here we are, in a very political country, sweating through an extremely political climate, entering a week with a politically suffocating focus. This year’s election is different, everyone says. And I’d have to agree, because this year, one of my children is old enough to vote. Different indeed.

My husband and I are not the political type – individually or as a couple. Politics is a whole lot of noise, and noise is disorienting and confusing and it tends to attract a lot more noise. That’s my personal narrative about politics. (Don’t worry, it’s safe to keep reading!)

But our daughter – the new voter – has questions, and because of love and responsibility, my husband and I have discussed politics with her. We don’t have answers, necessarily, but we’ve talked through options. Sure, we want to be informed and use wisdom on Election Day, but knowledge doesn’t always provide discernment. For all the media coverage, debates, opinions, discovered secrets, speculations, hypotheticals, and discussions that have fallen on our ears or out of our mouths, we’re still as clueless as we were from the beginning.

Noise. And in the confusion of noise, fear grows. I see it in the quiet way my younger children listen when the adults at the table discuss matters they don’t understand. I hear it in the text from my niece, slightly shaken by the uncertain future in which she will raise and teach her infant daughter.

Because of all the fear, I write today in a different tone.

I was recently reading the book of Daniel when a few verses caught my attention. I reread them, underlined them, and read them again. The words forced fresh air through my lungs like an early morning run in November; it burned, and it made me feel alive. God’s Word does that. I wrote the verse on a piece of paper and taped it where it was sure to be visible to everyone – the pantry doors in the kitchen.

On Monday, my oldest daughter was typing the verse into her phone. On Wednesday, I happened to spot my daughter’s boyfriend reading the verse. On Friday, I repeated the verse in several conversations, and yesterday, my 10 year old asked me to send the verse to her Kindle. In the midst of all this, I wondered what to post, asking the Lord, “What do people need to hear?” It was so obvious. I had already posted what people needed to hear. People need God’s Word, specifically the words posted in my kitchen:

Praise God because wisdom and power belong to Him.

He changes the seasons and controls the course of world events;

He removes kings and sets up other kings.

He gives wisdom to the wise and provides discernment.

He knows what lies hidden in darkness.

A prayer of Daniel, compiled from 5 translations of chapter 2, verses 20-22

Thousands of years ago, during the uncertain times of his day, Daniel took his concerns, fears, and confusion to the same God of today. God’s wisdom and power were all Daniel could be sure of, so rather than pretend he could control his future, Daniel found comfort in trusting God’s control.

It’s a wonderful thing to have a voice and a vote, but they can’t promise certainty in uncertain times, and tomorrow is certainly uncertain. This week is uncertain, this year is uncertain, and we don’t know what the future holds. We never have and never will. But God knows. He knows all, sees all, and is powerful enough to handle it all. Take comfort in that!

And then do more – share the comfort you have in the God who knows.

Share Daniel’s prayer. Let it be heard above the noise.

 

Brothers and Saints

by 4 Comments

I have 4 brothers. None of them are actual blood brothers, they’re brothers-in-law, but it’s their in-lawness that makes each of them so individually wonderful and lovable. One brother saves me tasty produce from his garden, another is my workout buddy and idea bouncing buddy, one hungers for knowledge and loves to talk books, and one accepted Christ while a teenager at church camp and now he’s a compassionate father for lost children. Because I am the oldest in my family and my husband is the youngest, my brothers span a twenty year age spectrum, but as different as these guys are, they all have one important thing in common – they all love Jesus (and yes, they all have me for a sister in law, but that’s not as important). Because of marital ties and spiritual ties, we are family, and I’m proud to claim these men as brothers.

In pursuit of learning, and because of his soft spot for his Catholic roots, my fellow book nerd brother recently began texting me a daily reading from the yellowed pages of his book of saints. We live in separate time zones, so he texts me during his morning reading time, then I wake up a little later, grab my phone, and read my lesson for the day. We’re a few weeks strong into Saint School and we’ve already added a new student, so it seems that S.S. is gaining accreditation.

My brother and I share a bond with our recent enrollment in Saint School, plus we share a love for my sister (his wife, and also, the new student), but we also share a name – the feminine and masculine forms of the same name – and Thursday happened to be the feast day of our names’ saint: Michael, the archangel. Had I known sooner, I may have planned a more feast-like dinner, but lackluster leftovers were taking over the fridge, so I figured I’d skip a night of cooking and begin writing an unexpected post about saints and brothers.

Before Saint School, I was very unfamiliar with the saints and their stories – my protestant background focused on persons of the Bible, testimonies of church members, and happenings of missionaries – but reading about these men and women has strengthened my commitment to living my faith well. I’ve been challenged to give more generously, inspired to pray more effectively, and encouraged to love more dangerously. Some of these Christ followers endured horrible persecution and death for their faith, reminding me that my freedom to worship is a privilege I often view casually.

The faithful mentioned in Hebrews 11 and all throughout the Bible, the saints remembered in my brother’s book, and the loved ones who followed Christ before us are examples of great faith because of their devotion in living, not only in dying. As noble as it may be to die for your faith, it isn’t as inspiring as living wholeheartedly for the God of your faith, but the only way to live in full dedication to Christ is to die in another sense: die to selfishness.

Dying to selfishness means living with less so you can give more. It means forgiving, listening, noticing, sharing, and yes, it means loving the unlovable. These are simple reflections of the God we live for, but these are the examples of Christian faith that people are desperate to see. It takes commitment to put others before yourself. It requires daily focus on the One you’re living for, so that you’ll be strong enough to live His way instead of your own way – which is exactly how Saint School came to be. My brother begins each day with a commitment to read his book, which reminds him to live for Jesus. Then he remembers He’s not alone as a follower of Jesus, so he reminds me (and my sister) to live for Jesus, and together, we are strengthened in our commitment to live our faith as best and as simply as we can.

So strengthen your family ties with your Spiritual brothers and sisters. Read the stories of those who have lived in faith, but more than that, surround yourself with loved ones who will live in faith with you today.

 

Pogo sticks and important things

by 2 Comments

Last week I had the pleasure of being at an elementary school talent show. It was a genuine pleasure because I’m a mom and my 2 youngest children were 2 of the acts, but I’m also a blogger. Can you even imagine how many stories I could write about an elementary school talent show?! So many stories, not enough words.

But my favorite story needs only a few words: girl, pogo stick, flute. Yep, when they announced that act, I thought, “This is going to be a great morning.” Then the girl entered the stage with her pogo stick, her flute, AND her music stand, which she proceeded to set up just a few feet from her face, mere inches from where she would soon be pogoing and fluting, and I suddenly thought, “This is going to end badly.”

It could have ended badly, but it didn’t. The bold little flutist pulled off her impossible act, and I instantly turned to the woman sitting next to me and said, “That looks like my life.” She laughed, probably because she gets it and thought the same thing about her own life. Or maybe she just laughed because that’s how she responds when a stranger talks to her at an elementary school talent show – either way.

Many days I do feel like a pogo sticking flutist, especially that day. I had spent the morning pogoing around the kitchen, packing lunches while doing squats so I could get both done before the talent show. I got to the school early to grab a good seat, answering emails and opening a couple days’ worth of mail while waiting. I kissed my talented children goodbye and rushed (safely) to work to relieve the co-worker who had covered the morning for me. Getting my shift covered had been an act in itself – weeks of texting coworkers, luring them, trying to pied piper someone into covering a few hours, but you know what? I pulled off my semi-impossible acts, it just took some doubling up.

But that’s what it takes when life is a balancing act of important things. Just as those kids may already know, but will certainly find out, nurturing talent and creativity takes some doubling up, too. The day’s load of tasks rarely makes time for one’s creative side, but when we don’t make time, we lose that inner child version of ourselves, the one who has guts enough to get in front of their peers and give it their best shot, with no promise of applause over chuckles. It took me many years before I found the guts to expose my vulnerable little heart on a virtual page. I’m not sure if it’s guts so much as a desire to nurture my creative side, but it feels really good doing something just for the fun and the love of it. I need that important part of myself.

Maybe you have some talents and desires that need nurturing. Maybe it’s time you refined that pogosticking skill you had as a kid, but it just doesn’t seem important enough to be squeezed into your day, doesn’t seem worthy enough of mustering the guts. Let me encourage you – do it anyway. Maybe making time for your creative side is exactly the thing your busy life needs.

Bravely being there

by 3 Comments

Oral reports.

You remember those. In fact, I bet reading those words jacked your heart rate pretty good, didn’t it? Teachers loved assigning oral reports and we students loved hating them. Hating the reports that is; hopefully not the teachers. Hating people isn’t very nice.

I haven’t given an oral report in a really long time and I can’t say I miss them, but they never really terrified me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t wait to be the center of attention and I wasn’t an incessant talker who loved hearing my own voice. I guess I just viewed oral reports the same as any other necessary, less than pleasant task or chore – like dusting or getting your teeth scraped by an overly vigorous dental hygienist. These moments aren’t fun, but they’re over in a matter of minutes and then life goes on. I may have thought oral reports were a waste of time years ago, but even as an adult I still have to talk to people and in front of people, which means oral reports were actually genius life skills training. Teachers are clever.

Throughout the month of October, my son had to read a biography, write it in timeline and outline form, and present it as an oral report. He’s into baseball these days, so he chose Jackie Robinson. He turned in the written report last week and I checked it off my ‘mom stuff to help with’ list, but I forgot about the presentation part. Turns out, the oral presentations were yesterday. Hope he was ready. Mom fail.

I would have never remembered about the oral reports had it not been for an email from my son’s teacher. My son behaves at school (and usually at home, but it’s hit or miss at home, because he’s 10 and he has 3 sisters), so an email from the teacher doesn’t evoke fear. Honestly, I wasn’t really prepared for the feelings that short email would evoke:

“I would like to recognize your son at next week’s assembly for helping a struggling classmate present his biography book report. He stood next to his classmate and encouraged him along and helped him keep track of where he was in his presentation.”

Yeah, I’m a proud momma.

I don’t have any idea how my son did on his report. Whatever grade he earned for reciting Jackie Robinson facts to his class may count for this grading period, but knowing how to encourage others and being willing to stand next to someone in the tough times counts forever. #Lifeskills.

‘Doing life together’ is one of those churchy phrases that’s getting a lot of traction these days. Maybe you’ve heard it. It kind of sounds like Kumbaya, hippie stuff. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sounds like a quaint thing to do, but it’s hard to describe what ‘doing life together’ really looks like. It’s vague, and people prefer specifics. Plus, it’s much easier to continue doing the ‘life the best we can manage, everyone for themselves’ thing.

Jesus conversed with rejects. He fed hungry people. When His friends mourned their brother’s death, Jesus wept with them. Jesus heard spoken requests, He recognized silent needs, and He went beyond just sympathizing with troubled souls. He lovingly reacted by giving of Himself – moment by moment, person by person, in the present. That’s what ‘doing life together’ looks like.

Even with all the power in the world, Jesus didn’t solve every problem. As the author of wisdom, He didn’t answer every question. As the owner and creator of all things, Jesus didn’t provide for every material need of every person He encountered. A lot of times Jesus helped people simply by being there beside them, and I’m glad for His example because I can’t do all, fix all, or be all, either. But I can encourage people by being there for them, and in our connected-but-lonely culture, sometimes what people need most is someone standing (or sitting) beside them.

There’s something very healing about knowing we’re not alone. Thanks to my son, his classmate knows this. And thanks to my son’s teacher, I’m reminded of this truth:

Life is better when we live it together.