When you're feeling spiritually sluggish: Two ways to increase your hunger for God.
The sky is brilliant blue and the sun so warm and I slide down into my lounge chair on the deck — just for a moment — to soak up some rays. My book, The Pursuit of God rests beside me, closed. I’ve assigned it to my mentoring group, given them each a copy, so excited for them to discover its riches, the wealth of spiritual wisdom within its pages. I plan to re-read it, be refreshed again by its truths, pull out some nuggets for discussion, ask God again to work it into my life. But today the sun is so warm.
Maybe I don’t need to read it again. I mean, I’ve read it like a dozen times, and how many perfect days like this do we get? I’ll just rest here for a bit…
After a bit I rise, thirsty. Return with icy lemonade, a bowl of fresh bing cherries. I eye the book, or rather it eyes me, watches me as I plop juicy cherries in my mouth. Sip lemonade, revel in the taste of summer. Soon the bowl and glass are empty. I fill them both, return. The sun is warm and the kids are resting in their beds. I’m suddenly so sleepy. I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit…
There’s a reason they call them the lazy days of summer. I really want to do nothing but eat cherries and lounge in this chair and if someone could clean my house while I sleep that’d be even better.
But what’s lovely as a lazy afternoon is ugly when it’s a lifestyle. And so often I don’t feel like studying Galatians or praying for my mentoring girls or drafting up a blogpost or doing my daily Bible reading. And sometimes I think it’d sure be nice to just coast for awhile.
And the book eyes me again and this morning’s Proverb pops into my head.
“A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, and poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want like an armed man.” Proverbs 24:33
This doesn’t apply literally since I don’t actually get paid for doing any of my jobs, but there is no mistaking the principle: Just a little spiritual slumber, a little spiritual folding of the hands to rest and spiritual poverty comes upon us and robs our spiritual vitality.
My eyes pop open. I reach for the book. Before I’ve even finished the forward that fire is aflame again in my heart. That hunger. How could I get get so spiritually sluggish?
Tozer’s words ring loud in my heart:
“I rejoice to acknowledge there are some … [who] with tears will hunt some lonely place and pray, “O God, show me thy glory.” They want to taste, to touch with their hearts, to see with their inner eyes the wonder that is God.
I want deliberately to encourage this mighty longing after God. The lack of it has brought us to our present low estate. The stuff and wooden quality about our religious lives is a result of our lack of holy desire. Complacency is a deadly foe of all spiritual growth. Acute desire must be present or there will be no manifestation of Christ to His people. He waits to be wanted” (p. 17).
Oh yes! But what do we do when we don’t desire Him? How do we slip from the shackles of spiritual sluggishness to want Him again? How do we grow in hunger?
The physical realm gives us a clue.
There are two ways to get hungry.
Decrease intake or increase activity.
By decreasing your intake (calories) you will naturally be more hungry. By increasing your activity (exercise) you burn more and will be more hungry.
The reason most of us don’t greatly desire God is that we’re so glutted with everything else. We have so much. I’m stuffed with cherries and lemonade (and every physical comfort I could ever desire) so there’s not much pushing me toward the Lover of my Soul. One way to increase our desire for God is to willingly go without some of the other things that satiate our souls.
The second way is to increase activity.
All I really had to do was pick up the book and read. Sometimes that’s all it takes. Pick up the Bible. Pray for 2 minutes. Go to church. Read the book. Do some spiritual exercise and you’re sure to increase your hunger for God.
The more we get of Him the more we want — our appetite increases because we taste and see that the Lord is good (Ps. 34:8). Do whatever it takes to hunger after Him! Even if it means forgoing the bowl of cherries for a feast upon His Word…
{Have you tasted of God’s goodness today? Thank you, as always, for reading…}
Psalm 27 {Hope}
I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!
Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD! (13-14)
True hope not “getting hopes up”
Waiting on the Lord not man
Takes courage
Week's end with thanks
- Day at Riversong. Perfect sunny day full of little cousins splashing, laughing, learning to paddle arms and kick kick kick those feet.
- Pool polka-dotted with water wings and wet little heads.
- Brother’s family here from Utah. Watching little cousins grow together.
- Paddle-boat in the river: A pirate ship searching for buried treasure. Children lost in imagination.
- Visiting my 92-year-old Grandma. Four little great-grandchildren running through the yard chasing butterflies, mouths stained with summer’s bounty of cherries.
- Grandma smiling.
- Home for rest.
- Premarital counseling a dear couple. In a complicated world uncomplicated people are refreshing.
- Evening church. Children happy, running through the gym.
- More cherries. Pitting lots and lots of cherries. Stained finger-nails. Sweet summer goodness.
- Camping at Foster Reservoir!
- Our family of four in our 2-person tent. Cozy. 🙂
- Two words sum up all that is needed for a successful camping experience: Memory Foam. Anyone else have one? They are amazing!
- Husbands making coffee run.
- Nutella S’mores.
- Four little cousins eating s’mores. Marshmallow sticking on cheeks and noses, in hair, between fingers. Dirty and delicious little ones.
- Auntie Kari reading them all bedtime stories by the fire. Surrounded by the sweet smell of these precious little bugs. A rich moment.
- Putting two little monkeys to bed in the same tent while it’s still light when they have a bad case of the giggles.
- Late, dark, holding hands with my man and slipping into the tent beside our sleeping treasures.
- Day of boating. Life-jackets smooshing little cheeks. Two 2-year-olds falling alseep in our arms.
- All eight of us (Jeff, me, Kris, Nikki and our 4 kids) jumping into the lake together. Sweet moment, brilliant blue sky, surrounded by green forest, children breathless and thrilled.
- Dutch gaining courage.
- Jeff still young at heart, jumping from the bridge.
- Coming home to dinner made. Everything tastes better eaten outdoors.
- Visit from our amazing dear Aaron & Candi. Trying to fit a year’s worth of life into words. Wishing we did life together we way we once did, but praising God for His goodness in both of our lives. Inspired and encouraged by our friends.
- Kissing sleeping child’s lips.
- Home to a clean house.
- An email offering to bring us a meal, “just because.” Umm… yes! What a wonderful idea! We should take people meals “just because” more often. Who doesn’t enjoy the gift of a home-cooked meal you didn’t have to home-cook?
- Plunging my dirty little campers into the bathtub. Scrubbing ears, bottoms, toes. Shampooing hair. Clean jammies and into bed. Nothing sweeter than a deliciously clean child with wet combed hair in jammies.
- Time to myself.
- Cup of tea.
- Peace.
F is for Forgetful Grace
Heidi whined again and I swatted her bottom with my hand.
“Heidi, use a nice voice,” I said firmly looking straight into her eyes. She understood and changed her voice but my conscience nagged. Was there anger in my voice? What about in my heart? Did I swat her bottom in frustration? How do I be firm but still pleasant? Am I disciplining my children in anger? Why can’t our days be fun? Why are they filled with reminders, rebukes, corrections? I do try to praise more than I correct but they just need so much stinkin’ correction!
I reminisced back to my childhood days. “I don’t remember my mom ever being harsh with me,” I thought to myself.
To my continual amazement, even when I’m at my worst (or I feel that way) my kids always want to snuggle up, always want to rock or read together, always want me to carry them and be silly. I’m so glad they do but the haunting question still nags me, “Will they remember a barking mommy who spent her hours endlessly correcting? Will they ever remember having fun?”
I got them settled in for their rests — Heidi snuggled into her crib and Dutch playing quietly in his room. Relieved but feeling defeated, I laid down on my bed, prayed, again thinking to myself, “I don’t remember my mom ever being harsh with me.” Why can’t I be more like her?
Then it struck me.
“I don’t remember my mom ever being harsh with me…”
“I don’t remember …”
I don’t remember!
That’s it! Of course. I don’t remember.
Just 30 minutes later my parents stopped by on their way through town. Just to be sure, I checked with her… “Mom, did you ever just feel at your wit’s end…?” She laughed out loud, told me about plenty of times the only thing that kept her sane was remembering James Dobson’s words, “Someone has to be the grown-up.” So she’d coach herself through every moment, reminding herself she had to be the grown-up. When I told her that I didn’t remember a single time that she ever grew impatient or frustrated she just laughed.
“Then that’s a miracle.” I smiled, understanding.
Perhaps this is the miracle of mommyhood. Don’t get me wrong, there are always consequences for sin, and I understand that if I am sinning against my children it’s not as if it just disappears. But as I, a mommy-sinner-turned-saint, grow in sanctification and stumble through my days growing in grace and falling on my knees and training and trying and loving and correcting and crying, by faith I trust that God weaves all my messes into a beautiful childhood for my children.
Someday perhaps they will look back and remember, by some miraculous forgetfulness, that their mother was always loving, always joyful, always kind. Just as Sarah, in the Hebrews 11 Hall of Faith, is remembered as a woman who always considered God faithful. We read that and wonder, Don’t the biblical writers remember that Sarah laughed at God’s promises? Don’t they remember how she took matters into her own hands with Hagar? Don’t they remember how she made a royal mess of things before God brought it all to pass?
They must have forgotten, because all they have to say is that she lived by faith.
Perhaps, then, my fumbling attempts at motherhood are mingled with enough faith that, in retrospect, they will, appear to be something beautiful.
Perhaps, like Sarah, our lives are bathed in forgetful grace.
“For I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.” Hebrews 8:12
Nothing is wrong with God’s memory. He’s just extravagantly gracious.
His grace extends even to our children, to their memories.
To their moms.
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{Rest today, dear mommy. His forgetful grace bathes your day in beautiful light. Perhaps remembering that will enable you to smile a bit more? Thanks for reading…}