Jan 30, 2011 | Stories, The Good Word, The Parenthood
I came across this post in a drafts folder today. I wrote it back in May of last year, and sent it off to be a guest post somewhere. It didn’t make the cut and I forgot about it. Although it’s nearly a year later, and we’re in a different season in a new home, it meant a lot to me to re-read it, and I hope it’ll be an encouragement to you. As we transition from one wee one to two, I’m excited all over again.
I have a special privilege almost every evening these days. Just as Hero Hubs and I are going to bed, I creep back into our little one’s room to tuck him in. (Down here in the southern hemisphere, it’s chilly chilly winter time.)
Night after night, I silently slip in and assess the situation. I find the socks he pulled off before drifiting to sleep and slip them back onto his feet. I get his blankies sorted out and put an extra one over him on very cold nights. Sometimes his head is at the wrong end of the crib, he has his knees tucked under him and his bum in the air. Sometimes he stirs and lets out a little whimper that will be hushed with a simple shhhh…. it is always an oh-so precious moment.
A few nights ago, I went in to tuck him in and he was in my favourite unique and sweet position: the head at the wrong end, bum in the air one. He stirred and lifted his head to try to figure out who’d come in his room to put blankies back over him. As I stroked his hair and shushed him back to sleep, his head dropped back onto his jungle animal sheets and he let out a big toot.
It was a toot only a mother could love. Actually the Hubs would’ve loved it, too. But in that moment, and in so many of those moments, I am suddenly met with this overwhelming reminder: the Lord looks on me like this, and He loves me like this. And then some.
The privilege I meet in those moments over and over again is to look and to cherish and to love and to think, oh gosh I am just so thankful for this little boy who is such a gift from the Lord. But the privilege is also to look and to love and to think…this is how the Lord loves me.
It seems this prone to wander heart of mine somehow manages to become unconvinced of God’s steadfast love. Like the helium that slowly escapes from the balloon my little one got at the store last week, without me being able to perceive it, slowly, slowly… there’s deflation in my heart.
I imperceptibly slide into a mindset where I feel “not good enough†and I tug my little branch away from the Abiding Vine. I feel like my performance has been poor and so I draw away from the One who loves me this much, because I think He can’t love me like this. I am busy sewing fig leaves to hide my heart, instead of saying Here I am, as I am…thank You that Your grace covers me.
In that cosy nursery finding socks and arranging blankets, experience tells me that no matter what the day has been like, whether the Bear was a lion or a lamb, still there is overwhelming joy and thankfulness, and so much love at the day’s end. And I realise that no matter how my performance has been on a particular day or week, I know the Lord’s love for me is still steadfast and true — more sturdy and steady than mine for my little one.
I’m thankful, as I tip-toe out and quietly close the door, to remember: He is the one who covers me with feathers and shields, gently caring, strongly protective. Whether I’m bum in the air and socks off tooting, on the wrong track or the right one, still the most profound truth I’ve learned remains: Yes, Jesus loves me.
xCC
Jan 30, 2011 | Stories, The Good Word
Where I left you yesterday (forgive me if that cliff-hanger was a major bummer — but can you imagine if I crammed all this into one or two posts?) I was sitting across the table from an old friend who’d lost his wife and child. Suddenly finding myself there, with a beer and a slice of pie was a surprise, but the next surprise was even bigger.
{Note: This post is Part Four in this series. I highly recommend reading the first three first! You can start here.}
After my friend had the opportunity to pour his heart out for a while, I could only reply by expressing how truly sorry I was for his loss. I think he could sense my sincerity — it is very likely that I was choking back tears. After a brief lull in the conversation, he looked at me and said:
“I thought you were gonna come here and try to save me.”
And my jaw almost hit the floor. I understood what he meant. He didn’t expect a friend, or a listening ear. He didn’t expect to be able to relax and drink a beer and tell his story without feeling judged — and perhaps as if he’d gotten what he deserved for not following Jesus when I’d talked about Him years before. But instead, he knew he was sitting across the table from someone who genuinely cared, and, you can argue with me about this all you want, I honestly think me meeting him where he was — beer and listening ear — had everything to do with all of it meaning something significant to him.
I was quick to reply “I can’t save you, man.”
And then the conversation took another course I didn’t expect. He asked about my sister, remembering her from years before as the life of the party, and a little on the wild side. I shared that she’d become a Christian, and I shared the story of how the Lord had put it on my heart to pray for her every day for a year, believing by the end of that year, she’d come to know Him. God was faithful to deliver on that promise when I still had some 219 days left to pray, and my sister, who was an incredible person before, is an incredible woman of God today.
He was surprised by this story and paused thoughtfully for a moment.
“Please…do that for me.”
I understood how big it was for him to make that request. I understood that life had brought him to his knees and he literally knew of nowhere to look but up. And a heart that was once so hardened to the things of God was suddenly soft, and willing, and maybe even hungry.
I promised I would pray for him, and I kept to my promise, and for that year, and quite often even since, he’s been in my prayers. I can’t tell you I know how’s he doing, because we haven’t been in contact for a long time. But I’m trusting that just as rain and snow fall to the Earth and always water it, before returning to the heavens, God’s goodness will fall in His life, because he was hungry for it, because I was praying for it, and because the Lord desires it more than anything else.
So what does a life of mercy and not sacrifice look like? I can’t tell you I know for sure yet. I can tell you it looks a lot more like listening for the voice of God and a lot less like making your own laws for following. It has less to do with making sure you’re in this place at this time on this day of the week, and it has more to do with looking at your own heart, and asking for help so that it will look more like God’s heart.
The journey the Lord takes each of us on is different. But the destination is ultimately the same. He has a vision to present us as a pure and spotless bride, to be His and love Him for all eternity. It’s a narrow path. It’s a humble road. But it is also, one foot in front of the other, Christ in us — and that makes it such a beautiful picture of glorious.
xCC
Jan 29, 2011 | Stories, The Good Word
For the past couple of days we’ve been talking about a verse that I am digging into with fresh anticipation this year, Hosea 6:6. It says, “For I desire mercy and not sacrifice, and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.”
The verse has already taken us to Matthew 9 and Matthew 12, and to Isaiah 58. But the connections just keep coming, and I think we still have some more thinking to do. (I’d suggest reading part one here and part two here.)
In Jeremiah 7, the Lord points out that “I did not speak to your fathers, or command them in the day that I brought them out of the land of Egypt, concerning burnt offerings or sacrifices. But this is what I commanded them, saying, ‘Obey My voice, and I will be your God, and you shall be My people. And walk in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well with you.’ {v. 22 & 23}
The people trusted the sacrifices and burnt offerings taking place at the Temple to keep them from God’s judgement. In the verses leading up to verse 21, God is explaining, through Jeremiah, that the temple would not protect them while they polluted it with wickedness. As Matthew Henry explains it, “…their sacrifices would not atone for them, nor be accepted, while they went on in disobedience.”
Even before the time of Christ, the sacrifices weren’t just sacrifices for the sake of sacrifice. God was saying “Obey My voice {notice He says voice first} and walk the way I’ve told you to walk. And that’s how it’ll be clear that I’m your God and you’re My people.”
There are times in our lives when we want to sacrifice. When the easy route is to go ahead and just let go of something, drop something, or make a hard and fast rule for ourselves. When we do this, we begin to write our own law books, because we would rather just do it our way than follow the heart of God and listen for His voice.
We begin to rely on our own burnt offerings and sacrifices: things like regular attendance at church or Bible studies. We begin to think we don’t need to listen for His leading because, hey, we’ve got this life of faith under control.
This might get me into some controversial territory, but I hope you can hear my heart with this example. For a long time, as a religious conviction, I almost never drank alcohol, and I would be especially careful not to drink alcohol in public. But a series of circumstances brought me face to face with a choice between my law and God’s voice.
A few years ago, I was home from Scotland and heard that an old friend had experienced incredible tragedy. He and his wife lost their child when she was still an infant. Within a year, his wife was in a motorcycle accident and he lost her, too. He’d started a family and had nothing to show for it, but pain, tattoos and memories.
I touched base to express my sorrow for his loss and see if he wanted to catch up while I was in town. I’d shared Christ with him lots and often years before, but I could only see that seeds were sown — I never saw any fruit.
I found myself sitting across the table from him at a restaurant in my hometown, and I somehow just knew I needed to order a beer, make him feel comfortable and at ease, and listen to his story. My mind at first thought “Not, so, Lord! What if someone who knows me sees me drinking a beer here? I might cause offense or cause someone to stumble!” But the Lord’s will was clear in my heart, and soon a Corona and a slice of key lime pie were  sitting on my paper placemat.
After a few minutes of small talk, my friend began to share his story. To say the least, it was heart-wrenching. He’d started riding motorcycles after he and his wife lost their baby girl. He found comfort and solace on the open road. He taught his wife how to drive a motorcycle as well, and she was out driving on her own when the accident happened.
Parts of him were clearly riddled with guilt and anger, but the overwhelming sentiment was just sadness.
And what happened next was such a surprise, it deserves its own post tomorrow, where our story will continue.
xCC
Jan 28, 2011 | The Good Word
Yesterday the discussion began regarding a verse I want to better understand (and better live) this year. Hosea 6:6 says “For I desire mercy and not sacrifice, And the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.” {You might want to read yesterday’s post before reading today’s.}
You’ll find the striking contrast between religious activity and what’s on God’s heart depicted well in Isaiah 58, when the Lord says that the way the people are fasting isn’t pleasing to Him. And why not?
They use fasting as an excuse to be grumpymuggins and meaniepants to their servants. And they use it as an excuse to look religious to everyone else, with sackcloth and ashes and bowed heads and loud prayers.
Jesus is trying to point out this type of behaviour, and is trying to spell out the truth for the Pharisees that keep questioning him: The heart of God is not for fervent religious activity, but for hearts that are set on the things that His heart is set on.
In the first instance, {in Matthew 9} Jesus is spending time with people who clearly and obviously need a saviour. The good news is that they aren’t as tough to convince as the religious people. If sin was a sickness, Jesus would be just what the doctor ordered. He is following God’s heart — the heart to call sinners to repentance.
In the second scenario, {Matthew 12} when the disciples are plucking grain, it’s because they’re hungry. And they are probably hungry because they are following Jesus. With “nowhere to lay his head,” they are following Him as He travels around to seek and to save the lost. The disciples aren’t at home where their mamas can cook for them on the Sabbath. They’ve left everything to follow Jesus, and their hearts are on the right track. If they’re hungry, let them eat, Jesus is saying. They have the true hunger that counts: they are hungry and thirsty for the things of God.
Then Jesus goes on to heal the man with the withered hand {the very next story in Matthew 12}. And as the Pharisees take offense again, we would do well to take the time to think about how all this comes together. There’s a stark contrast involved, and you don’t want to miss it.
The Pharisees are a dot and tittle kind of people. They want to follow the law to a T, because their ultra-religiousness sets them apart from everyone else. It makes them feel holy, and even if it’s not pleasing to God, it is pleasing to them.
Now don’t forget that Jesus mentioned David eating the showbread. David was known as a man after God’s own heart. When he didn’t cross every ‘t’ and dot every ‘i’ — even before the time of Christ — we can see that there was grace because he was a man after God’s own heart.
So what’s on God’s heart? Well, look at the verse again: Mercy. And not sacrifice.
We’re continually reminded that God is near those who are brokenhearted. Going back to Isaiah 58, when the Lord expresses His displeasure with the type of fasting the people are carrying out, He says He would rather see them loosing the bonds of wickedness, undoing heavy burdens, letting the oppressed go free, and breaking every yoke. He wants to see His people sharing their bread with the hungry, bringing the poor who are cast out home with them, clothing the naked, and recognising their own need for a Saviour.
These things are close to the heart of God. And God is looking for ‘religious activity’ that will reflect His heart. The outward rituals of sacrifice and offering are meaningless to Him unless mercy and the knowledge of God form the inward reality.
When God’s people show mercy to a world in need, the world will take notice. They will see the good deeds of God’s people, and they will praise God.
This leads me to ask a very important question: Are we, as God’s people today, still offering sacrifices and burnt offerings while missing mercy? Let’s continue the discussion tomorrow to think this through.
xCC
Jan 27, 2011 | The Good Word
I mentioned recently that there was a particular verse that kept coming up for me as I study Scripture which I feel I would like to gain a better understanding of this year. The verse is in Hosea 6:6, and says, “For I desire mercy and not sacrifice, And the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.”
In the context, God speaks these words through the prophet Hosea to Israel and Judah, pointing out that their faithfulness is “like a morning cloud, And like the early dew it goes away.” He is disappointed because His people, though they might continue to go through the motions of sacrifice and offering, are somewhere else in their hearts.
This verse jumped out at me as I read Matthew 9 one day. Jesus is being questioned by the Pharisees because He eats with tax collectors and sinners. And to the Pharisees, that just ain’t cool. This is His reply. (I think we often focus on the first part).
“Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’ For I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.”
Keeping a metaphorical finger on the page with those words in Matthew 9, flip over to chapter 12, and you’ll find a similar story. This time the Pharisees see Jesus’ disciples plucking heads of grain to eat on the Sabbath, because they’re hungry. They are, as you might expect, pretty quick to point out the error of the disciples’ ways.
Jesus responds by retelling the story of David, entering the house of the Lord to eat the showbread which it was unlawful for him to eat. And he speaks of the priests who bring their own imperfections to the temple on the Sabbath, who are also blameless. Then he speaks the words again:
But if you had known what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the guiltless. For the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.
It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Remember that verse I gave you to study for homework last week? This was the test, and you failed.”
Just after these verses, Matthew recounts the story of Jesus healing a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. Since the Pharisees took offense at this, too, it is as if the writer is making sure we are getting the point.
So, Jesus, what’s the point?
Even before Christ entered the picture — way back in Hosea — we see that God is looking for something other than fervent religious activity. And it seems like He’s pointing at the heart. He’s hanging out with tax collectors and sinners. The disciples are eating when they’re hungry. A man with a withered hand is being healed.
The Hebrew word for Mercy, chesed, refers to God’s steadfast love and His covenant loyalty.
Why is mercy closer to God’s heart than sacrifice? Why does He care more about seeing mercy in the hearts of His people than seeing them dotting the right i’s and crossing the right t’s?
Because He wants the world to see Him in His people. He wants His people to be a reflection of His heart, His image, and His chesed-steadfast-love-covenant-loyalty-mercy to a world in need.
Join me tomorrow, and let’s dive a little deeper down this rabbit hole, to see where it leads.
Lord, break our hearts for what breaks yours.
xCC
I create resources to help people find deeper, more meaningful relationships with God through pursuing, pondering, and prayer. The "Shop" link above will take you to the home of many of the lovely resources I’ve created to help you keep walking one day deeper with Jesus.