Prayer

What We Really Long For

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hockeyequipment

Me in my brother’s hockey equipment

I come from a hockey family.

Growing up, the boys played shinny at the Rec on weeknights while I “figure skated” with my friends. Saturday night at 6, it was Hockey Night in Canada with my dad and my endless questions: “Who were the Leafs playing tonight? What’s icing? Who’s LaPointe? Why is he on every team? How come there’s no goalie in the net?” He graciously answered each one, giving me my first hockey primer.

As a young girl I fell asleep watching the stars out the window of the backseat on the way home from countless practices and games. We spent evenings and weekends at rink after rink, burning our tongues on cheap hot chocolate and freezing our rear ends off cheering on my big brother and the team. He was a zippy little forward who made his little sister so proud! There are pockets of memories filled with shouts of “c’mon ref!” and that arena smell – cigarette smoke and Zamboni exhaust mixed with freshly-flooded ice and old hockey equipment. The winters of my childhood were spent running around the bowels of the home arena while the game went on, begging my parents for candy and red and blue Slush Puppies from the concession. I had uncles who made it to the juniors and cousins who are still hoping to.

When I heard the news from Humboldt, my heart broke. I went to Bible School in Saskatchewan and have connections to the people in that community, knowing they grew up with a deep love of the game.

At the vigil on Sunday night, I was overwhelmed by Pastor Sean Brandow’s clear presentation of Jesus. It was amazing to see him speak so candidly about the need we all have deep inside, and the question he asked at the end of his message stuck with me.

“What will you do with one breath? Each breath that you have left, what are you going to do with it? Will you seek the God who has walked and who has died to show His love and His concern and His care for you? Or will you get bitter and angry and frustrated? Come to the God of comfort.”

Comfort.

Isn’t that what we really long for, even in the day-to-day? Underneath all our efforts to make life just a bit easier, we hunger for true rest to be our lasting reality.

But where can we go to find it?

We search all over for a way to alleviate our suffering, and instead find a God who Himself suffered so that we could find comfort forever.

Easter Sunday has long passed, and yet, here we linger.

In Luke 24 the angel asks the women at the tomb – “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here – He is RISEN.”

This is the crux of our faith: if Jesus is not risen, our faith loses its power.

A dead man cannot forgive or save. A dead man cannot heal and bring new life.

The memory of a teacher can inspire us to do good to others, to be kind in every situation, to share what we have with those in need. But a dead man cannot bring the true transformation required to find an eternal hope and a future free from pain and grief. It’s a deeply rooted change of who we are that shifts our allegiance from ourselves to Someone far greater. Someone who is worthy of our worship and brings a rebirth into a living hope and inheritance that will never perish, spoil or fade (1 Peter 1:3-4).

Without a living God there is no internal change and without that internal change, this hope to be a better person, the longing to be whole, and our desire for greater significance all become a frustrating and futile effort. We may be doing the right things but our hearts still struggle with bitterness, selfishness and pride that ultimately leads us down a path of ruin.

We need a way for the change to stay.

We need more than “Jesus the example”. We need the real Jesus – the One who walked through suffering, took our sin, conquered death and lives in victory.

We need the Risen Jesus.

The final verse Pastor Sean shared at the vigil was Romans 15:13 –

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Our hearts are broken for Humboldt. Time cannot heal this wound – only Jesus can. And because of His wounds, we can find healing for ours.

Jesus, Are You There?

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Sometimes circumstances feel overwhelming. It might not be any one particular thing, really — it’s just all of it put together. In those moments, I am learning to cry out to Jesus! I wrote this a few months ago and rediscovered it recently, finding that even though our challenges have changed, it still speaks to me today. My heart is reminded, yet again, of the God who does not forsake.

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“I’m hungry but I don’t want these apples! What else is there?”

“I got a paper cut, can I have a princess bandaid?”

“Can’t I just have one more candy from my candy bucket?”

“LOST BOOK! LOST BOOK! Where is that book I had yesterday?”

All the questions, all the time.

Jesus?

The washing machine has been going non-stop thanks to cold and flu season. As I scrub my sandpaper hands for the thousandth time, cracked and bleeding from the freezing cold outside and my attempts at keeping the germs from spreading, I glance up at myself in the mirror. I try to smile, but I can’t. Literally. The right corner of my mouth moves up slightly, but is stopped by my chipmunk cheek, swollen from having a broken tooth pulled.

Jesus, are you there?

I gently set the baby down. Finally! He is sound asleep. Or so I thought. Eyes flutter open, restless wiggling begins. Sighing, I gently pick him up and accept that my evening plans have changed. Tonight I’ll be wearing grooves into the floor where my feet are planted, in front of the crib, rocking him in the dark, quietly singing and praying for my boy.

Jesus? Can you see me?

I’m climbing a mountain, but I can’t see the summit. I’m reaching up for the next ledge, but I can’t find it. There’s no place to stand up straight and look around, to breathe deep, to enjoy the view.

Frustrated tears stream down my face.

Where are you Jesus? Are you here, even now, in this time and place? In these moments of a million questions, inconvenient illnesses and pure exhaustion?

My heart knows the answer.

Yes, when I don’t think I can deal with one more question.

Yes, when the kids are sick and I just don’t feel like it.

Yes, when my back is sore and my legs are screaming and I just want to sit down.

Yes, when I feel like it will always be like this.

“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5b

trees in sun

When things aren’t fully in focus, God is still glorious.

When You Don’t Know What To Do Next

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I’m sharing a quick thought on 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 today. I’m always amazed at how when I don’t know what to do next, I can come to this passage and find some direction!

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“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NIV)

We hear a lot about trying to figure out God’s will for our lives, but this is the perfect place to get started! We’re called to be doing these things all the time – rejoicing, praying and giving thanks – no matter what set of circumstances we find ourselves in. This is a great set of verses to memorize and tuck away in our hearts for the next time we’re wondering what God wants us to do next!

sunrise2

A sunrise one fall morning

 

Hashtag Momlife

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I can feel the frustration bubbling up inside.

My to-do list is as long as my arm, with a limited amount of time to accomplish it – and between the running around, the constant fighting of the kids, the sweet babe who isn’t following his usual pattern, a last-minute lunch plan, a huge cup of spilled milk and a new tummy ache, I can’t seem to manage to get even one thing accomplished.

Hashtag Momlife.

My older sister calls. “How’s your day?” she asks. And the inevitable unloading of my current state of affairs comes tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop it. “…so, yeah – not awesome.”

She’s been in my shoes before – her kids are teenagers now but I know she knows.

Her wise words then reach my weary heart and bring me hope.

She says, “My prayer for you today is that you would seek first His kingdom and all the rest will be added to you, and you’ll see God’s provision in amazing ways.”

It’s tempting to be skeptical or to brush it off, but I can’t. I am learning how much I need Jesus and the people He has put in my life.

To my great relief, her prayer for me is answered.  I am watching and waiting throughout the day, and I see His grace in a million little ways – and some big ones too.

Thank you Lord!

mama

Kid art! Love it. My daughter drew this picture of me a few months ago.

 

The Time Machine: You Can Always Come Home

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This morning’s post is from 2013. Still touches my heart!

***

Yesterday my two and a half year old and I were sitting on the couch, watching that talking vegetable show and we got to the end of the one about the scarecrow and the tin man and the cowardly lion, which is really the story of the Prodigal Son (lost on her… she just loves to see her favourite veggies dressed up like her favourite literary characters)… and we get to this end part where the little asparagus is coming home after running away to the amusement park.

And he’s practicing his speech…

“Mr. O’Gill… Mr. Farmer O’Gill, I would like to work for you…”

And oh, I can feel them tears threatening.

And that Dad Asparagus won’t hear a word of it.  He just picks up that little Asparagus and whirls him around in his arms, and says all those things that we know so well – “you were lost, and now you’re found.  You were dead to me, and now you’re here”… and for the first time in my life, I am that Dad Asparagus.  And I picture my precious children breaking my ever-living heart in a million ways, again and again, and I picture myself waiting and agonizing and praying for them to return to me.  And then they do.

And I finally understand.

So that Dad Asparagus and that little Asparagus are jumping on that computer animated trampoline, and with every bounce, another tear slips down my cheek.

And Andrew Peterson sings:

“You can always come home
You can always come home
You can always come home to me”.

I wipe my tears before she has the chance to ask, “You cryin’ Mom?”.

And I know that’s my voice singing along.  “You can always come home to me, kids”.  Always and forever.

And I thank the Father that I can always come home.  Because lately, I’ve been practicing that “come home” speech – that one that says “I can work off my debt, sir, if you just give me a chance…”

And I am met with that unexpected, undeserved, unabashed love and acceptance – the very thing my heart craves, in the very place I least expected it.

And I crumple into His arms – stunned, relieved, amazed.

His patience – stunning.

His forgiveness – life-giving.

His love – amazing.

(I also think, “what a God’s-Glory-moment – using a cartoon to bring healing to a tired mama’s heart.”)

yellow flower

 

Fifteen Years Later

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Recently  I came across a date written in the margin of my Bible, next to part of a Psalm.

It was my nineteenth birthday.

I can’t really remember much about the day itself, but I remember the season of life I was in. I had spent the year after high school working at a radio station and was looking forward to attending Bible college that fall. I remember the spiritual passion and how I was so excited to see what life with Christ would bring. There were a series of question marks that needed exclamation points: would I meet someone and get married? Could I launch a full-time music ministry, as I was so hoping to? Dare I believe there would be a recording contract or at the very least, an album and a tour in my future?

The year that followed was filled with disappointment and heartbreak.

When things did not go the way I planned, I learned a few hard lessons about life and love and the way the world works. And I discovered, eventually, that I had a choice. I could choose the exhausting path of bitterness and self-protection, or I could choose to trust the One who knew me better than I know myself, and rest in His unfailing love.

Fast forward fifteen years. In that time, I’ve moved provinces, gotten married and had four kids, and it amazes me that when I read this passage again, my heart still cries YES and AMEN!

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Teach me, Lord, the way of your decrees,
that I may follow it to the end.
Give me understanding, so that I may keep your law
and obey it with all my heart.
Direct me in the path of your commands,
for there I find delight.
Turn my heart toward your statutes
and not toward selfish gain.
 Turn my eyes away from worthless things;
preserve my life according to your word.
Fulfill your promise to your servant,
so that you may be feared.
Take away the disgrace I dread,
for your laws are good.
How I long for your precepts!
In your righteousness preserve my life.

Psalm 119:33-40 (NIV)

Must Be Halloween Again

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pumpkin

Ah yes, my annual struggle.

Every year my prayer is the same:  Jesus, give me wisdom!

I took the kids for a walk in the fall sunshine the other day and on the way home I forgot that we were coming down the street with the Creepy Halloween House. When we’re in the van I can usually count on moving past so quickly that the kids don’t really see all the super scary stuff, but when you’re walking at a toddler’s pace you really can’t avoid it. Oh I tried, believe me.

“Hey girls, look at that silly bird walking around on that grass over there!” There was a magpie on the lawn across the street. It worked for about five seconds. Then I lost them.

“Mama! What is THAT?!” My four year old asked, pointing at the house.

“Well, it looks like some Halloween decorations, but we don’t really need to look at them,” I said.

“Why not?”

“They’re a little bit too creepy.”

“Yeah,” my 6 year old agreed. For her, the novelty of certain types of seasonal decor has worn off. But for my 4 year old, it’s irresistible.

“That IS creepy! But it doesn’t scare me!” she cried. “Let’s play Halloween characters! I’m a ghost! Booooooo!”

In spite of her feelings about scary decorations, my 6 year old joined in immediately and for the next half-hour they ran around the back yard together pretending to be Halloween characters and imagining a world where “Chickens Running Around with Their Heads Cut Off” was their favourite comedy TV show.

Later, I asked them why they like to play spooky characters.

My 4 year old answered, “First, they’re not very scary for me. Secondly, I think they’re cool.” (She actually said, “secondly”! haha!)

“Really?” I asked. “Aren’t you a tiny bit scared?”

“Nope,” she continued with confidence, “If I just saw something spooky to me, I would just stick my tongue out at it.”

“Oh really,” I said. The next day as we drove in the van, the story changed. We were talking about some Halloween thing they had seen out the window and my 4 year old spoke up.

“Well, some Halloween things are NOT scary for me, but some Halloween things ARE scary for me,” she explained. “Like, the cartoony things aren’t, but the spooky things are. I do NOT like those witches at the neighbour’s house, they are too creepy for me. Yep, too creepy. But that big Frankenstein is so funny!”

I totally get why Halloween is so interesting when you’re a little kid. It’s impossible not to be fascinated, especially with all the huge inflatable lawn decorations nowadays. The Halloween House next door is their favourite. The kids are really drawn to the ten-foot-tall Frankenstein and a set of inflatable jack o’lanterns that look like a little pumpkin family, a spider in a top hat, a dragon they’ve named “Dragula”, two big white ghosts with lights and a REALLY tall pumpkin reaper we’ve named “Pumpkin Guy”.  Those characters have really sparked their imagination! But Creepy Halloween House has presented a new set of challenges.

For the first time, it’s actually scary to them.

As a Christian, I’ve always struggled with Halloween because of the evil and fear associated with it, and I will do my best to keep those kinds of things away from my kids whenever I can. But I know they’re growing up and we’re moving from being fascinated with the silly inflatable Halloween characters on the lawn next door to genuinely scary moments for them as they come in contact with certain images.

After six years of Halloween with young children, I’m realizing that despite all my efforts to shield their eyes, they’re going to see the awful decorations in the neighbourhood or at the store. Or hear about horror movies from their friends at school. Or happen to catch a glimpse of a billboard with a creepy clown on it as we drive down the street.

And even though I would rather protect them from all of it so they never had to feel afraid in their lives, I’m realizing that these are opportunities to have some really important big-picture conversations about feelings and fears and good and evil and Who is bigger than it all.