My life, a bowl of oatmeal
One of my greatest joys is hearing from YOU. When you take the time to share your life, heart, and real-time God stories, my heart leaps for joy. The following message was sent to me from one of you. A reader named Matt (yes, lots of guys read this blog too!) was so generous to share his story. It’s simple, but sacred. Longer than my normal posts, but worth reading. Enjoy!
...Something remarkable happened tonight. I was reading two of your posts, “Appetites and Masters”, and “When you need more energy”, and I could feel that God was working out something in my heart that I’ve needed Him to for a while. I was writing down a list of things that, as I can best say it, I have allowed to master my life. It was rather embarrassing to say the least. Motivating, but shameful.
So I prayed about it, took some time to ask the Lord for freedom, for healing, for His holiness and for His life in this dark corner. I got up and was making oatmeal, when He spoke. Just I was pouring the oats into the pan I heard Jesus say: “Stop.”
Startled, I asked “what, Lord?”
“Look at the measuring cup,” He said. I looked down. “Notice how you are adding an extra little heap on top?”
“Umm..Yeah, Lord?”
“Take it off.”
“This is strange, but..ok. there. It’s gone. Now what?”
“Great. Now pour the water.” So I poured the water, unclear as to what on earth He was up to. Was He just here to hang out? Mess with me a little bit? As I reached for a banana, I heard Him again: “No, not that one. Use that one instead.” Ok, Lord. What the heck? I mean, a banana is a..banana, right? Apparently not. “
Um, ok. But, this one’s a little bigger, so it’ll fill me up more, and besides, it’s going bad. That one’s not. I need to get rid of this one.”
“I know. But that one is smaller, and you’ll see why.” So I grabbed it and started slicing it into the oatmeal. Then I reached into the fridge to grab the jelly, and I was putting little bits into the bowl. Ok, small spoonfuls. Fine. They were smaller spoonfuls than last time. Anyhow, I was doing that, and wouldn’t you know it: “Not so much.”
“Wait. Ok. Hold up. What does a little jelly even matter? I mean, what are you doing? Don’t you want me to be happy, Lord?” Whoa. I just..asked Him that? Hmm. Maybe I see where all of this is headed now.
And with absolute grace He replied: “This isn’t just about the jelly, or the banana, or the oatmeal. This is about your life, and how you look at it, and how you feel life needs to be.”
Whoa. There it was. Plain and simple, and, well, awkward. “Ok, Lord. So keep going. Tell me how this relates.” (As I grab the sugar.)
“Well, how about you let me help you be free from the need for sugar in your oatmeal?”
“Sure!” I say, putting it back in the cupboard, a little frustrated. But why? I wonder. Why can’t I just have a little sugar in my oatmeal, a bigger banana, a few more oats, and why can’t I just eat it, be full, and leave it at that?
The Lord interrupts my thoughts: “Because you can’t just leave it at that. You know what this is about. See, your life is like this oatmeal, because everything has to be perfect, and comfortable. It’s gotta be just hot enough but not burning your mouth. It’s gotta be cool enough to enjoy, but not cold and disgusting. It’s gotta taste pleasing, be easy to swallow and give you a good feeling on the way down, it has to sit well and not cause discomfort. The house needs to be clean, and arranged in a way that makes you feel comforted and secure. The shelves at work have to be perfect when you are finished filling them, the bike has to amaze you before you will consider spending money on it. The neighbor can’t smoke when your window is open, the maintenance guy can’t mown the lawn while you are sleeping.”
As I heard scenario after scenario where I have just simply made it about me, and my comfort, and my happiness, I guess I’d never realized just how much I’d let it all become like that bowl of oatmeal: AN IDOL!
If I can’t be ok with the bland, or even distasteful oatmeal filling my tummy the same way that the delicious kind can, if I can’t let go of my expectations for everyone and everything to be easy and pleasant to swallow, then I’m placing my own happiness and my own pursuit of comfort in front of Jesus.
I’ve been giving that oatmeal, my life, more worth than my King or His glory. And that’s idolatry. As I finished that sugarless bowl of oatmeal with less jelly, and a much smaller, plan B banana and with a heap fewer oats, I couldn’t help noticing how much fuller I felt. Because, you see, the wholeness of Jesus Christ had opened the eyes and the ears of my heart, and poured in a little more of His life-giving and sustaining truth that He knew I so desperately needed. And now I see that regardless of how full my belly is, I need to place spiritual food first. I need to place Jesus first in my heart, because only He can sustain, and only He can satisfy. I can live without tangible, edible food, but I cannot, absolutely cannot live without Jesus Christ, the Giver of Life.
And I’ve let everything else I’ve worshipped take the place of that, and it just hasn’t worked. So what I do is I add a little more, I try a few different things. I add more oats, more yummy banana and a little more jelly, I add a sprinkle of sugar and a nice new warm sweater and a new power drill and a new harmonica and a new helmet (and, and, and,) and I bite and I swallow and I tell myself that this erases the malnourishment of my SOUL. But nothing can take His place. Not a thing.
So this time, this bowl of oatmeal, this life of mine, belongs to Jesus. May He use my life, bland and distasteful though it may seem, for His glory. I don’t need to have a sweet taste in my mouth or a good feeling in my belly, I don’t need the right looks or the right amount of sleep, or the right house to lead other’s to Christ. I don’t need those things to be His. I just need to put Him first in my heart/life, and trust that He will take care of all the rest. I’m sustained, because of Him alone. God is so good.
{Can I get an AMEN?? Preach it, brother Matt! Thanks so much for reading.}
When you're pretty sure you are a disappointment
I always thought the worst thing was not getting chosen. Being overlooked, left out, not being picked for the team or the party or the date.
Do you remember that happening and how bad it felt? Realizing that someone purposefully didn’t choose you, that in someone’s mind they would be better off without you even being there. I remember getting stung a couple times and rubbing the spot for quite awhile.
But it turns out there’s something much worse: Getting chosen and then it becoming glaringly obvious that you were not as expected. That you are a disappointment. That perhaps you’re kept because of mercy, pity, or dutiful obligation, but the unspoken truth is that if the whole thing was done over, they wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. You’d be out.
Perhaps you were chosen for the team but reality is you’ve never seen a minute in a game. Or, like poor Skeeter from The Help, you’re set up on a date and upon arrival Mr. Wonderful’s face is painfully clear: You’re not quite what he’d hoped for.
That is, perhaps you were chosen, but had they really known you you’d never have been chosen after all.
Yup, this takes the cake.
This goes far beyond the surface scratch of being merely overlooked. One can easily explain that away. Perhaps they don’t know your hidden talent, or you were having a bad day, or maybe your beauty isn’t outward but if they knew your amazing personality things would be different. Being initially un-chosen is rejection at arm’s length. Not big deal.
But the second kind is another beast altogether. That is, rejection at our core. That is, rejected for who we really are. After we’ve been known. After we’ve been proven. After we’d washed off our makeup and slipped off our clothes, so to speak. Rejection that whispers, “Had I known, I never would have chosen …”
Do we wonder why divorce is so diabolical?
To be known and then rejected is eternally worse than never being chosen in the first place.
Why the dark thoughts, you ask?
This darkness (That yes, I have felt in my brief 33 years), this sting, this ache that strips us bare and leaves us raw and oozing pain, it helps us see the glory of the gospel.
The ravaging love that revolutionizes our souls.
Yes, it arrests our hearts to realize that “In Him, we were also chosen” (Eph. 1:11). We ARE chosen, picked, singled out, by the love of God in Christ. But this! But this is what should bring us to our knees in thanks and stand us on our feet in confidence:
“For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them…” Rom. 8:29
Known and chosen. Chosen and known. We have been chosen by God even though He knew everything we would ever do. He knew what was under the clothes, the makeup, the masks. He knew the blunders we’d make and the limits we have.
He knows that really, we’re not that put together.
He says, “I have known, and I have chosen.”
I don’t know who this is for, but some sister needs to know it today: You are not a disappointment to God. He has never regretted his choice in you. He has never thought, “Had I known…”
You were already known, and chosen.
So you can be free to slip down those layers we clutch fearfully in front, and be bare before Him. He already knows and loves it all. You’re not a disappointment after all.
Oh amazing grace! {Remembering this from a few years back and God’s remarkable healing work. Thanks for reading and have a blessed day, beloved one!}
When everything comes crashing down around you…
Remembering this. I have been so experiencing this in my own life lately! Take courage…
~
I heard the thunderous crash and Heidi’s blood-curdling scream and ran into the kid’s room.
The large, wooden dresser had fallen on top of my tiny girl.
I pushed up the dresser, gathered her into my arms and ran into the living room. As I listened to her cries, encouraged that she was coherent, I could make out the words, “I was trying to put on my swimsuit.”
My sweet girl had been trying to be brave.
See, “Try new things” is not exactly on my kids’ list of favorite things to do. They would both be content staying home, all day, every day, and playing Legos or reading books or doing our normal routine. This works well since I’m a homebody too, but every once in awhile we’ve got to push these babes to risk … just a little.
Insert swim lessons.
I had found a class for 3-5 year-olds, so they could be together. I told them they could hold hands, that I’d be nearby, that no one would dunk them under or throw them in the deep end. Still, they both cried. We counted down the days until we began, and the morning of I was so blessed to see them make a valiant effort at bravery. My 5-year-old son started repeating to himself, “This is going to be fun. It’ll feel like playing!” (I’m all for self-talk!) and my little daughter announced she would get ready all by herself.
So she, wanting to be brave, wanted to get her swim-suit for class. But it was in the top drawer, so she opened the bottom drawers and climbed up the front. Yes, you can guess what happened next. By God’s amazing and miraculous mercy, my son’s bed broke the fall (hooray for tiny shared bedrooms where there isn’t even enough room for a dresser to fall flat on the floor!) and so it pinned her head against the bed, the dresser drawers against her face and her body hanging down off the bed.
It looked worse than it was. I expected her teeth to be through her face. I expected blood everywhere. But because of the soft bed, she didn’t have a single scratch. After she quit crying a slightly puffy lip was the only real damage we could find.
Praise God.
She was still a little shaken when it was time to brave the pool waters, but she quickly conquered her fear and had an awesome time. Swim lessons ended up being one of the greatest experiences of my kids lives so far. It was such a significant victory and made them so much braver ever since.
I couldn’t help but see the parallel in my own life.
The enemy does not want us to be brave. He wants to keep us living ever-cautious, ever-safe, never risking, never trying new things. When we do make a choice to branch out in faith, he will do whatever he can to intimidate us, scare us, fill us with fear, whatever he can do to keep us from bravely moving out in faith.
He will drop dressers on us. He will drop bombs of discouragement and depression. He will bring unexpected conflict, confusion. He will toss heaviness our way, misgivings and misfortune. But the amazing part?
We will walk away unscathed.
You’ve probably heard it said, Satan is de-clawed. He can try to scare us, intimidate us, and fill us with fear, but he cannot truly harm us. And no matter what may befall us …
We will not be shaken.
As my daughter shook off her scary incident and persevered in her swim lesson-adventure, I knew God was telling us to to persevere in faith, be brave, risk, and refuse to let the enemy intimidate in order to keep us cowering.
What are you attempting to do today? Where are you trusting God? Stepping out in faith? Risking? Being brave? Can you see where the enemy would love to intimidate you? Scare you? Use fear tactics to keep you cowering? How can you choose to trust God and not be shaken today? Can I offer an idea: Read Psalm 91 right here. This just “happened” to be my Bible reading the morning that this happened. Praying bravery and courage for you today; thanks for reading!
The Lazy Girl's Guide to Home Education
A big forest behind our house, lots of free time to read, a garden, science fairs, a playhouse, maps on the wall, Legos, an old piano, sketch books, almost no TV, and a library card.
These were the key components of my homeschool education growing up. In fact, when I’m asked what my homeschool days were like I usually respond, “I remember home but I don’t remember any school.”
My mom loves that.
She enthusiastically led us in a joy-filled, relaxed approach to learning. “Doing school” did not dominate our days.
Last year I ran across my mom’s worn and tattered volume by Mary Pride, homeschooling guru from the 1980s, who raised seven kids, wrote books, and taught countless seminars. On one of the many dog-eared pages I discovered part of the inspiration for Mom’s philosophy. When asked, “How do you do it all?” Pride responded,
“The key is … laziness! The best way to teach is to not have to teach at all. Ideally, our children should learn how to learn and begin to teach themselves.”
I believe this is why some moms can have a gaggle of kids, homeschool, volunteer, maintain friendships, and be active in their communities without collapsing. (They might have housekeepers too; I’m suspicious.) We give our kids the key to learning and then relax a bit. Here are a few ideas to make this work (Thanks, Mary).
The lazy girl’s guide to home education:
{Here’s the rest over at Simple Homeschool. Thank you for reading!}