Was it a good trade?

(I don't know these people -- this picture is purely representative.)

One of the reasons I'm not sure I could ever be in full-time youth ministry is that I get really REALLY bummed when kids mess up. So since kids are human and we humans tend to mess up a lot... I end up really bummed on a regular basis. This is something I wrote as a response to one of those youth ministry experiences. I wasn't going to post it because I thought it wasn't relevant to this blog. But it turns out my preschool kids will eventually be youth group kids... not to mention the fact that everyone messes up, not just teenagers, so I guess that makes it relevant.

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Every act is a spiritual act. It's whether you're aware of the spiritual implications of what you're doing. -Rob Bell

I see you.
You are bartering. Trading.
Do you know?
Somewhere, you do.
Was it a good trade?

You heard them. You listened.
They lied, but you didn't care.
This will be fun.
Let me show you.
You laughed, but without joy.
You felt release, but no freedom.
You were numb, but still hurting.

What did you bring to the table?
What did you trade?
Innocence.
Purity.
Decency.
Beauty.
Simplicity.
Truth.
Trust.
Peace.
Me.

Come back!
The robe, the ring, the feast...
It's all waiting.
I'm standing on tiptoe, hoping.
I love you.

Family Vacation to Lake Michigan

Good Intentions

This summer God has presented me with some incredible and very humbling opportunities to share my faith. As I reflect on those experiences, something jumps out at me. Nearly all of the people I talked to had hang-ups with Christianity because of negative experiences, either with Christians themselves or with Christian education. Some had been turned off by judgmental or hypocritical people who claimed to be Christians. Others had felt forced or pressured into religion through Christian education, then put off further by 'boring' rituals, rote memorization, and graded tests on religious principles.

What scares me about this, particularly as a parent, is not that my kids will be led astray by hypocrital Christians they meet or overly strict Sunday School teachers. My fear is that I will prove no less hypocritical... that the religious education my children receive, whether around the dinner table or at church, will lead them to empty rituals instead of fulfilled relationship. Of course I have the best of intentions for my children... but anyone who admits the existence of Truth must also admit that good intentions are not enough. I don't doubt for a minute that our local Christian high school was founded with the best of intentions. And yet, in the minds of the students I spoke with, the beauty and truth of the gospel has been reduced to a set of motions one must go through. [To be fair, I have also met students from this school who love Jesus and have been radically changed through their relationship with Him.]

Getting back to my point, parental (or institutional) good intentions are not enough. Intending to teach your children the truth about God does not guarantee that they will get it, and apparently they may end up resenting you for it. So what is a parent to do? Some parents take the 'let them find their own way' approach, based on the idea that religion is something everyone has to discover for themselves. I can see where these parents are coming from, to some degree. But how could I hide the love and grace of God from my children? It would be like withholding food from them on the grounds that it will taste better if they go out and find it for themselves. But at a certain point (and here's the hard part), kids need to start making their own PBJ... and making their own choices. I can teach them everything I know about fiber and protein and trans-fats, but I can't and won't go off to college with them and make sure they eat right in the dorm cafeteria.

So I guess that is the same approach we will take with spiritual matters. By our lives and our words, we will testify to our children the love and grace we have received through Jesus Christ. We will pray for them, hoping that as they start making their own choices (and their own PBJs - yay!), they will respond to the good news they have heard and follow Jesus. What happens if they don't? That's a question I don't have answers for.

Two Small Coins

Every time I've set foot on this rock
You've reminded me that I am not alone
That I will never be alone
(Brandon Heath)

Two weeks ago I went to a Young Life camp in Canada called Malibu Club. It is my favorite place in the world. Though I'm not very well-traveled, I am fairly certain that I could visit every country in the world... and come back saying that Malibu is still my favorite place to be. It's not just the beauty of the place, it is what God has done in my life on that little piece of rock that juts out into the Princess Luisa inlet.

On this last trip to Malibu I got to lead a cabin of 11 girls from 4 different high schools, and I also brought along Nate, Dexter, and Katie (our babysitter). I could spend several hours and thousands of words writing about all the stories, laughs, challenges, struggles, and victories of the week... but I think I'll just talk about one word that keeps coming back to me when I think back on the trip: Redemption.

If there is one thing I learned during and since that week, it is that our God redeems. Like the widow in the temple, I gave Him two small, nearly worthless coins, and He made them into something beautiful and eternally valuable.

I offered the time I had to give, though due to prior commitments I had to go to camp a day later than the rest of the group.
I thought it was silly to go through so much hassle to travel separately and get up there after everyone else.
God redeemed when it turned out three campers had to come up a day late as well, so I was able to travel with them.



I brought my two small children along.
I thought the kids might be in the way, that they would be a distraction or take away from what was supposed to be happening.
God redeemed when a camper stood up on the last night to share that he had grown up without a father figure, but that as he watched Dr. Bob play with his grandchildren (my kids) in the pool this week he was able to see what God's fatherly love looks like.



I gave each girl half an hour of my time on the last day of camp to talk over what they'd been hearing at Club throughout the week.
I thought they don't get it, they're not ready, this isn't sinking in.
God redeemed as one by one, each girl told me they wanted to begin or renew a relationship with Jesus. Later that night they stood up in front of their peers to profess their new faith.
God redeems still as these girls call me for coffee dates, hungry to talk about what this new life means and how to live it out each day.

It doesn't matter how little or how much I have to give... just that I give it with a joyful and grateful heart, knowing that our all-powerful God can use it for His glory.

June 20

flip-flops crunching rocks and sand
towels around necks
heavy-laden daddies and coolers
passing babies over the bow
flat water
glorious mountain
warm boys snuggled close
wind-whipped hair
squinting through brilliant evening sun
iridescent eyes
beer and bratwurst
chips and salsa
pudgy hands chasing ants
never-ending rocks for throwing
family
following the sun home
squealing, shrieking, singing balance out
an arm for each
grabbing tight through freighter trails
sleepy eyes and heads
majestic mountain darkens
from home
to home

Kids as Art

Sabbath.

Art.

These two words have been playing off each other in my brain for a couple of weeks now. I guess it started when our pastor preached a sermon about Sabbath, and that same week there was an "Art Night" at church. I'm not sure if that was coincidence, but this quote (used in the program for the Art Night) pairs the two together in an interesting way:

“Like visitors to an art gallery who arrive 20 minutes before closing time we rush from exhibit to exhibit, fearful that we shall miss something worthwhile. The horizon of our own finitude haunts us, and we rush to cram as much as we possibly can into the available space, traveling ever faster and further, seeing and tasting more, trying out as many options as we can while we have the time and, ironically, as a consequence having time for very little at all. Has there ever been a generation with so little time actually to take time and enjoy the world? Always craving the next thing we so often fail to savour the moment offered to us.” (Hope Against Hope: Christian Eschatology at the Turn of the Millennium by Richard Bauckham and Trevor Hart, 178)

I've been thinking about Sabbath and Art as they relate to motherhood. My children are two of the most exquisitely beautiful pieces of art I will ever see, and I am lucky enough to have them with me every day. But so often I am rushing around, trying to make time for everything... failing to savor the moment... haunted by my own finitude.

I can hear God calling me to slow down, to see what He has done, what He is doing... particularly in and through my children. An art exhibit may stay in a museum for weeks or even years, but today is the only day that my children will be who they are right now. What a privilege to hear them laugh, see them grow, help them learn today.

God, bring me out of the rushing chaos and into your Sabbath rest. Thank you for the amazing art you have created in my children. Help me to slow down and appreciate it today and every day. Amen.

Strike A Pose

Brace yourselves for some honesty. Some raw, middle-of-the-night, why-did-i-drink-coffee-at-7:30-pm honesty. You ready? Here it is:

I am a poser.

If I take a good hard look at myself, I see that apparently my favorite activities are posing, posturing, preening... basically doing what I can to convince the rest of the world I'm pretty awesome. Which I am. See, there I go again! Shoot.

Seriously though, it is really ugly to watch if you know its happening. Take the following conversation I just had with a friend this evening:

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Friend: Hey looks like you've been getting some sun lately.

Me: Oh yeah, I'm coaching a swim team so I'm outside a ton. Actually I got sunburned in the rain the other day. (i.e. I defy nature. How awesome is that.)

Friend: (apparently thinks this is interesting and launches into song about getting sunburned in the rain)

Me: Yeah, people are always saying 'Wow, you're tan!' like its a good thing. I forget that people here actually try to get tan... I really try not to, I don't want to get cancer! (i.e. Other people think my tan is awesome, but I am way too cool and health-conscious for that.)
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This is just one example out of a million. See how I'm tricky about it? It doesn't really sound on the surface like I'm being a preening, posing, try-hard... but it's there if you're looking for it. Of course I know we all do this on some level; as humans we crave acknowledgment from one another. But it's still not pleasant to see that element of my broken human nature up close.

Why does it bother me so much? Because ultimately I want to become someone who has lost the taste for that, who no longer craves it. I want to believe God when He says that His grace is sufficient. I want to stop hearing it and start listening to it. I want to live on the razor's edge of face-to-the-dust humility and eyes-to-the-sky worship.

So here's something true I can say about myself - no posing or posturing now. My most precious asset is intimately linked with my most horrible fault, for I am the worst of all sinners (1Tim 1:15) and yet Christ loves me and died for me (Rom 5:8).