On Stillness
He leads me beside still waters… (Psalm 23:2)
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One thing I always notice about getting away (on a vacation or retreat) is how miraculously God allows us to see things from a different vantage point. Though I know we don’t drive to a new locale and physically look back at our life, it is almost as if physically removing ourselves somehow supernaturally enables us to see the daily grind of our days with a startlingly new perspective.
That’s why getting away is so good.
My “get away” was simply a week spent with my kids and parents out at Riversong, their home on the river in the middle of nowhere. (Jeff was out of town.) I cooked a lot of beef dinners (because I love you, Dad), went to bed at 8 o’clock each night, and spent precious early mornings with the Father every day. My days were pretty quiet but His voice was loud and clear.
Creation has a way of bringing perspective. Perhaps it is because it displays God’s invisible attributes of eternal power and divine nature (Rom 1:20). When we get out into nature we see God’s nature–our man-made creations pale in comparison. When I stand at the back of my parents’ property, surrounded by nothing but trees, river, birds, hillside–the whole earth is hushed. In the quiet, still moment my spirit finally slows to a sacred stop. And in that moment I stare at the rushing water and can finally see things clearly.
In the stillness I can feel that am restless.
In the quiet I can hear that my life is loud.
Without being distracted I can see that I often am.
While I’m there, the trees ask me each morning if I am abiding. The river asks if I am freely allowing God’s divine resources to flow through my life. The snow that falls reminds me my scarlet sins are gone. The rain and rainbows gives a fresh promise God is not through with me yet. There is so much grace here.
Here in the stillness.
He restores my soul… (Psalm 23:3)
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By nature I’m about as still as a hurricane. My husband says I am a shark–if I stay still I’ll die. My dad once told me if you stop moving and don’t use your muscles they’ll atrophy and you’ll lose ’em. Apparently I took that to heart because I’ve never stopped moving since. To be fair, in most of my activity there for the most part a joyful enthusiasm and a striving to steward what God has given me. But also there can be the very unholy frenzy of distraction, control, and addiction to adrenalin. I don’t like the dust to settle where I can see it, I’d rather just keep it whirling around in motion.
But I’m learning, for moments, to be still. In prayer, in Scripture, in Sabbath-naps and silent moments in each other’s arms on the couch. I inhale the smell of Jeff’s neck and I am home. In extra-long rocking chair time with Heidi, in “one more story” bedtime snuggles with Dutch, even in small but priceless moments in Winco of letting Dutch scoop the flour out of the bin into the bag all by himself… in eternally slow, tiny scoops. Stillness helped me crouch down beside him and memorize his face. He beamed with accomplishment and held up the bag, his trophy. A moment I would have missed were it not for stillness.
How many moments have I missed?
Of course life does not consists merely of stillness. I will still continue to be a whirlwind of activity, Lord willing, for all the days He gives me here on earth. But I am thankful for my week away and for a renewed commitment to stillness. In a world where productivity equals value and busyness equals evidence of worth, God’s words speaks cross the grain and restores our souls.
Be still and know that I am God.
I will be exalted in the nations.
I will be exalted in the earth. (Psalm 46:10)
Judges 11: Who pays for your promises?
Remember the man gathering sticks? Well I think he and Jephthah are in a tie for the stupidest-move-in-Scripture award. Both stories are tragic and both men make me want to grab them by the shoulders and shake some sense into them. But then, I’d have to shake myself, because I do the same things.
You may be familiar with the story. Jephthah was a mighty warrior and judged Israel six years. He was a man of war–perhaps that led to his rashness. When called to go to battle against the Ammonites,
“Jephthah made a vow to the LORD and said, “If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whatever comes out from the doors of my house to meet me when I return in peace from the Ammonites shall be the LORD’s, and I will offer it up for a burnt offering” (11:30).
Now come on, Jephthah! What was he thinking?? I mean, perhaps a goat or little lamb will run out the front door like a loyal dog to meet you, but aren’t the chances pretty good that it will be a person??
And sure enough, it was.
“Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah. And behold, his daughter came out to meet him with tambourines and with dances. She was his only child; beside her he had neither son nor daughter” (v.34)
Jephthah is devastated. Of course he’s devastated! But listen who he blames:
“Alas my daughter! You have brought me very low, and you have become the cause of great trouble to me. For I have opened my mouth to the LORD, and I cannot take back my vow” (v. 35).
He’s the ridiculous one who made the rash and tragic vow! His daughter is the one who loses her life. After letting her wander in the wilderness for a few months lamenting, he carries out his promise and takes her life. It’s disturbing on so many levels. But what can learn from this tragedy? This is what struck me as I read through it this time.
::Others often pay for our promises.
We know that in our schedules when we say yes to something we say no to something else, right? That’s a critical thing to remember when we are juggling kids and a husband and friends and ministry and life. But the same is true here exponentially. For Jephthah to say yes to carrying out the promised burnt offering he was saying no to the life of whatever came out of his door. He didn’t know what it would be, but he knew it would cost someone or something its life.
When we made rash promises or commitments, saying “yes” to do something or be somewhere, we have to remember that something else must die. There will be a cost. It might very well be worth it, but it is still a price to pay. And just as Jephthah did not know who would pay the price of life for his promise, we often do not know exactly who will pay for our overcommitments or promises, who will pay for all the “yeses” that we love so much to give.
Who will pay?
Jephthah’s child paid.
Often our children pay.
Obviously, as someone raising Ministry Kids, I take this warning to heart. Just last week I offered to host a ministry event at our house on Saturday night, then in the moment realized it would mean almost zero time for the kids to have with Jeff right after him being gone for a whole week. I quickly rescinded my offer before it was set in stone!
And this is true of more than just ministry, but perhaps ministry is the most tempting because it is “an offering to God.” Thankfully, all of life is an offering to God (Romans 12:1), and whether we are standing on a platform teaching or at home tickling our children, we can do it for His glory.
Lesson for me? Stop. Wait. Think. Pray. Then act. Remember Jephthah before I rashly commit to something.
And remember that our children often pay the price for our promises.
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Can you think of a time when your children paid the price for your overcommitment? What did you learn and how have you learn to avoid this pitfall?
6 Minutes To a Better Marriage
Sounds like a pretty lame gimmick, huh? I’m not into gimmicks but I am always into having a better marriage, and today I received a nugget of wisdom from two couples who between the two of them have enjoyed 84 years of marriage.
One couple was my parents–you already read about my dad’s simple words of wedding wisdom: “Pray together every day.” Today I also had the joy of sitting with Paul Hunter, who is just days from returning to Uganda, Africa for another 6 months. Sometime I’ll share a whole post on Paul and Pam Hunter and the amazing work they are doing. Paul was been my pastor my whole growing-up years, since I was 4 years old. He and Pam were my second parents, and their 3 kids my extended siblings. They loved me when I was unlovable, prayed for me all my days, and mentored me and discipled me when I was finally learning to spread my wings in ministry. And after decades of pastoral ministry here in the states, he and Pam have founded Next Generation Ministries in Uganda, Africa. For 9 years they have been living in two worlds, spending 6-9 months at a time there, then coming back here to visit, build teams, raise support. They are amazing.
All that to say I had the joy of seeing Paul and we were talking about marriage and prayer. He and Pam have been married 44 years and he confirmed that prayer–and a sense of humor–are the key to a happy and enduring love. He told me about a little prayer exercise he’d recently discovered, which was paying dividends already in their relationship.
Six-minute prayer.
Sounds cheesy, but it’s not. You just commit to praying together 6 minutes a day. We all have six minutes! And so often it seems like when couples pray together they don’t know where to start. This makes it easy. You pray in 1 minute increments, taking turns, each 3 times. It looks like this:
- For 2 minutes (1 each) you pray simply thanking God for the other person and all you appreciate about them.
- For 2 minutes you confess to God any sin you have committed (in word, thought, or action) against the other person, and ask for forgiveness and a fresh start.
- For 2 minutes you pray for the other person, their needs, blessing, growth, welfare.
That’s it. You’re done. Jeff was out of town all week last week, so we’ve only been able to do this together the past four days, but it’s been so awesome! What I love is that it is a way to pray specifically for and with each other. Not just vague ideas, but purposeful prayers specifically for and about your spouse. Paul said he’s been amazed, after 44 years of marriage, how this simple little 6-minute prayer time has blessed them beyond words. Plus, we’re finding that when we’re “done” with our six minutes we both have lots more things to pray together about, but the six minute thing makes sure that we cover the important stuff first–and if we’re short on time, you can get a lot done in six minutes!
You game? I’ll set the timer, you grab your spouse. But hold on a second. Just in case he’s not as excited about it as you. Remember, girls, you cannot make your husband want to pray. If he’s game for it, awesome. If he’s not, don’t nag him. Don’t roll your eyes or sigh or play the martyr or complain to your girlfriends that he’s not the spiritual leader. You know what you can do?
3 minute prayer.
YOU pray and thank God for your husband. Thank Him specifically for all the things you love and appreciate about him.
YOU confess your sin to God, sin that you have committed (in word, thought, or deed) against your husband. Ask Him for a fresh start.
YOU pray for your husband, for his blessing and welfare, for his spiritual growth, for his success and wisdom, humility and joy.
Now this I could do (and did) while Jeff was gone. This we can do not matter what.
Do you have 6 minutes? How about 3?
Yes, you do. So do I.
Let’s pray.
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What are some of your favorite helps for praying for or with your spouse? Please share!
Judges 10: The gods whom you have chosen
The book of Judges just mostly strikes me as sad. On the whole it really is. Israel has just had this miraculous journey through the wilderness, God has mightily conquered their enemies in the land of Canaan, and now Joshua has died and everyone has forsaken God’s law, instead doing what was “right in their own eyes.” That is a scary place to be as a nation, amen? Does it remind you of any other nation you know? Because of this “the hand of the LORD was against them for harm… and they were in terrible distress” (2:15).
So God in His mercy raised up judges who would deliver God’s people from the enemies who were conquering the land and oppressing the nation of Israel. The judge would bring peace and godliness to the land for 20 or 40 or even up to 80 years, but eventually the people would “not listen to their judges, for they whored after other gods and bowed down to them” (2:17). It’s a sad story that has repeated itself throughout history more times than we can count.
But a certain phrase stands out to me from chapter 10. The people of Israel have once again strayed from God, they are being oppressed by their enemies and they are “severely distressed” (v.9).
So they cried out to God.
Well, that’s good, right? What is God’s response?
“Go and cry out to the gods whom you have chosen; let them save you in the time of your distress” (10:14).
Ouch. Seems harsh, huh?
Remember, God is not harsh, He is holy.
He is not a game, He is GOD.
And while this statement seems rhetorical, I think it is helpful for us to take it seriously–to think about what it would look like if we really did “cry out” to the things that become gods in our life.
It might help us see those gods for what they really are: False.
So then I saw this play out. Yesterday Dutch was playing with toys and I kept giving him instructions–to make his bed and get dressed, etc. I wasn’t pestering him, but they were things he needed to do before he went on with his day. He obeyed, but then said (in a syrupy sweet voice): “Mommy, can you please not talk to me anymore today?”
Excuuuse me?
I very briefly explained that that was disrespectful and that God had given me the job of being his mommy and, therefore, of talking to him, but that I would be happy to give it a whirl and see how he liked it.
So I quit talking…and listening. He played happily with his toys. When he asked for a snack I ignored him. When he asked for some lunch I ignored him while I fed Heidi. I ignored and ignored and ignored until the message got through.
“Mommy I’m sorry I asked you to not talk to me. Will you please talk to me now?”
What I thought of saying (in light of this passage) was, “Why don’t you go talk to your toys and ask them to make you your lunch? Why don’t you ask them to make you a snack?”
Go cry out to the gods whom you have chosen.
Obviously Dutch’s dump trucks cannot make him a peanut butter sandwich. But why do we think that our possessions or our accolades or our children’s performance or the praises that we receive from others can provide us with the strength and life and joy and vitality that only comes from the True and Living God?
We all seem to have our “god” or idol of choice. Not gold or silver or wood, of course, but things or people we are tempted to daily bow to, as if they really can provide what we need.
So try this: Think of what your default idol tends to be. Is it your children’s performance? Accolades? Being right? Position? Visualize how ridiculous it would be to cry out to that thing in a time of real need–a time of real distress or grief or sorrow. A time of true hunger, as Dutch crying out to his toys when he’s truly hungry for a sandwich.
Perhaps the ridiculous visual will serve as a helpful reminder when we’re prone to wander from the True and Living God.
There is only One who is worthy of our call. Let’s never make the mistake of “asking Him” (by our actions) to not talk to us for the day. We would be lost without His voice.
So let’s just call to Him.