Spirit Rising

For the SPIRIT God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.

 --2 Timothy 1:7 (emphasis added)

Spirit.  The word evokes delight, fear, misunderstanding, and awe.  For Christians, the Spirit is one part of the Holy Trinity.  It's the part that gives us the wisdom and direction we need for daily living.  Jesus gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit when he rose from the dead and ascended Heaven.

During my daughter's hour long dance class on Wednesdays, I normally bring something to read, and I'm in the middle of this amazing book that's helping me understand how the Spirit moves in the world.  I have a different book with me every week, so it's not unusual for one of the other moms to ask me about what I'm reading.  But when this particular mom asked me about the book of the week, I felt my stomach do a little flip.

"It's Spirit Rising by Jim Cymbala.  I tried to act casual, but I knew she wasn't a Christian, so I wasn't sure what to say next.

"Oh", she said, "My dad believes in that stuff".

I hesitated.  I didn't feel very bold, and yet the words "Do you?" came out of my mouth.

She paused for a moment before answering, then shook her head.  "I don't know what I believe.  I don't believe in anything.  Or I guess I kind of believe in everything".

"God"? 

"Yes, but I think he has a lot of different names".

I probed further.  "Jesus?"
 
"No.  I used to be Jewish.  I like what Buddha teaches.  I like it that there's no Hell."

"Yes", I agreed.  "Who wouldn't like that?  I wish it were true."

She looked amused.

We ended up talking for an entire hour.  I mainly just listened.  Here was a woman--broken, hurt, and seeking.  She's probably a lot like me, but I have one thing she doesn't--the Spirit.  And that has made all the difference.

As she told me her sad story, my heart began to beat faster, and I felt it breaking for her.  I prayed, "Oh, God.  Don't let me screw this up.  Spirit, tell me what to do.  Tell me what to say."  I felt like I was holding onto this woman with my pinkie finger as she dangled from a cliff over the great abyss.  I knew there was nothing I could say that could convince her that Jesus is real.

"I'm open to anything, though", she blurted.

"Would you ever go to a church?," I asked.

"Oh, I've been to church.  Many times.  I would go again, but not yet.  I'm too messed up.  I've got too much anger.  I'm not ready".

I wanted to make her understand that only God could bind up those wounds and heal them forever, but I confessed that the only way for me to do that was to tell her about what God has done in my own life and what I've seen him do in the lives of the people I know.

"Don't worry.  I'm working on me.  Lots of people are working on me.  Counselors, psychologists...."  Her voice trailed off, but I was still thinking.

Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes, and I didn't want her to see me cry.  But oh, how I wanted her to understand how much God loves her!

She interrupted my thoughts again.  "I promise you this, though.  When I am ready, I'll definitely come to you."

Did she really say she was going to come to me when she is ready?  Not if, but when she's ready?

"Ok", I said.  "As long as you promise,  I'll wait for you."

We shook on it.

How wonderful it would have been if she had given her life over to Christ right there on the spot!  We could have prayed together like two happy souls boldly slamming shut the gates of Hell!  Yet, that is not what I heard the Spirit telling me to do. The Bible says the fruit of the Spirit is love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control, so I'm confident that I experienced the Spirit at work today.  I'm pretty sure the Spirit can't be rushed.

"I pinkie promise."  She intertwined her pinkie with mine, and I held it  there in the grips of another prayer.  "Oh, Lord.  Spare her.  Give her time.  Show her that you're real before it's too late.  Don't let her fall off of this cliff."

Mamas, Don't Let Your Baby Girls Grow up to be Princesses

Think about the qualities you hope to instill in your children--strength, integrity, love, resourcefulness, and creativity.  You want that for your boys...and your girls.

 I've been blessed with two darling young daughters.  One is only four and yet almost every single birthday party she's attended this year has been a princess party.  And in just four years, "Princess" has been her go-to costume for the October 31st trick-or-treating festivities.  Why is it that every little girl just wants to be a little princess?  Yet, if someone called my twelve-year-old "a little princess" the phrase would bring with it nothing but negative connotations?  Do we really want our daughters to grow up to be  egotistical, narcissistic, self absorbed divas waiting in captivity for a knight in shining armor to rescue them?  Have I sent my young sidekick the message that God made her for nothing more than her pretty face?  Should I encourage her to spend hours preening and primping when an estimated 25,000 children around the world die every single day because of sickness, starvation, and a lack of clean water?  Of course not.

We spend the first two years of our children's lives modeling behavior that indicates that the world exists solely for their benefit, then the next sixteen trying to convince them that "Just kidding, it doesn't."  Our girls deserve more.  We place a premium on beauty, reinforce greed, compliment the elaborate wardrobes and beautiful homes that belong to others, and twist the reality in which we live and for what?  So we can all pretend that our precious girls are fairytale princesses?

What if being a princess meant kindness?  What if it meant sharing with others?  What if being a princess stood for love above all else?  How could we teach our little princesses that inner beauty is the reigning quality of a true heir to the throne of grace?

Storybook princesses overcome tremendous hardship and face overwhelming danger before ultimately living happily ever after.  And although we want the fairytale ending, we often deny ourselves the gift of the sacrifices that shape us in the everyday living.

I'm not anti-princess.  If I'm being completely honest, statistics show that most American girls might has well be princesses for all the luxuries life in this country affords.  A closet full of clothes, a pantry full of snacks and many with a private bedroom and bathroom as well.  Why would they think they were anything but the progeny of the richest nation in the world?  As I sit here and write, though, I am wondering how that word defines this littlest generation of girls.  What an enormous responsibility we have to share what God has entrusted to us.  I'm still trying to figure out how to do that.  The next time Cari Jill dons a costume and twirls around the room, I hope I remember to encourage her confidence or her imaginative play instead of the way she looks in that dress.

Maybe one day when we hear the word, "princess" applied to someone we know, instead of conjuring up an image of a young girl in a frilly frock, we'll think instead of a sweet-spirited young woman with, above all else, a heart that puts others first.

For the Love of Learning

Remember your first day of school?  Laying out your clothes before you went to bed?  Waking up early for a special breakfast, then boarding the school bus all decked out in a new backpack full of paper and newly sharpened pencils?  Remember the anticipation and the promise that that day held?  A new year meant a new beginning, a world of possibility, and nine glorious months of transformative brain power at work to make you a lean, mean intelligent machine.  Whatever happened to looking forward to going school?

For my kids (myself included), what happened was "school."  Instead of an institution that promotes creativity and fosters imagination, my children sit in rows and learn how to be the best darn test takers the world has ever known.  They answer A, B, C, or D to a variety of questions designed to assess what has been drilled into their brains all year.  A few weeks later, we receive a report that hopefully proclaims our children "meet expectations."  How my heart swells when it declares that they've "exceeded" them!  But where did my children go?  They are but hollow shells of those starry eyed beings who got on the bus that first day of school. If only they had space to create, time to dream, and opportunity to discover this big, wide, amazing planet, I can only imagine what progress might be realized.

With nearly three dozen students in some classes and teachers facing mandates to teach a standardized curriculum, no wonder we've created a society of robots programmed to receive, repeat, and regurgitate an onslaught of ever-challenging information. 

Discipline, I like.
Structure, I embrace.
Training, I adore.

The public school, though necessary and arguably beneficial, can only serve the masses.  And yet deep down we all know that every human child is a wellspring of opportunity--a brilliant little soul who is and who is yet to be only once in the whole history of the world.  Like a blank canvas, they embody beauty, the quintessential masterpiece of creation.  Art lives in the wandering.  Creativity reigns in the freedom. 

And so I think I've decided to home school my kids next year.  And it's not because I want to insulate them from the world.  On the contrary,  I want to show them the world!  I want to open up their future by reclaiming their present.  I want to help them discover their unique gifts and abilities.  Oh, we'll read and we'll write and we'll do math problems out the wazoo.  We'll explore challenges from every angle, develop creative solutions, and above all else keep learning.  Every teacher I've ever met is all about the learning!

As for expectations?  Well, in taking this first step, in saying the words, "home school" out loud, I'm doing something I, for one, NEVER expected....Teachers of the world, I commend you.  Your job is big, but mine is bigger.  You taught them to read.  You taught them to write.  Now, let's teach them to think.

Bread of Life

A couple of weeks ago, Gavin and I celebrated 16 years of marriage.  I was only 15 when we began dating, and I'm almost 38 now, so we've been together a pretty long time.  We've had our share of ups and downs, and yet, the years have stretched out over a beautiful landscape made richer by the storms we've weathered and the opportunities that sometimes disguised themselves as obstacles.  On our anniversary, we enjoy spending time reflecting on our time together. 

"What was a highlight of this year?" 

"What do you hope we can do differently next year?"

"How can I be a better husband/wife to you?"

There's a little bit of nostalgia mixed in with the promise of our future days together.  Because we love each other so much, we have always worked very hard (even in our anger) to keep it together. Whenever we hastened to fix our problems on our own, solutions disintegrated, and the challenges overwhelmed us.  But whenever we handed over what we had to God, he honored our gift and multiplied the blessings.  Sometimes, we thought we were giving up when what we were really doing was giving what we had to the only One who actually had the capacity to do something with it.

One of the greatest miracles of the New Testament is Jesus's feeding of the 5,000.  Found in  Matthew 15, Mark 8, Luke 9,  and John 6 , it chronicles what happens when one responsible little boy gives his meager lunch to Jesus.  With just a couple of fish and a few handfuls of bread, Jesus satisfies the hunger of an enormous crowd of people.   It's interesting to me that Jesus broke the bread, gave thanks, and then multiplied it.  So often, we are the ones who are broken, and we've done it to ourselves.  With so little to share, so little to give, God takes the broken pieces and multiplies them into something that's worthy of more than a story--a real life miracle.  Most notably, he commands his disciples to:  "Gather the pieces that are left over.  Let nothing be wasted."  Yes, even in our brokenness, nothing is wasted. 

In hindsight, I am grateful for the times when I went all to pieces.  Now, when I look forward, I expect a miracle.  If I ever believe the lie that I have nothing to give, all I have to do is read the account outlined in all four gospels.  God does way more with the broken pieces than I could ever do with a basket of hoarded morsels.  Maybe nothing would ever "go to Hell in a handbasket" if we were all willing to take what we have, break it open, bare our soul, admit our deficiencies, and put it all in the basket that Jesus is holding. 

Two thousand years ago, more than five thousand people got to participate in a miracle, and all because one little boy was brave enough to give those pieces to Jesus.  The people went away satisfied, and not just because their bellies were full.  Their hearts were, too.

Female by Design

Priscilla Shirer's challenging Resolution for Women is inspiring, to say the least.  This week's resolution, "Purposefully Feminine", proved especially insightful.  Every other time I've studied God's view of women, it has been in the context of the much beloved woman found in Proverbs 31:  "A wife of noble character, who can find?"  After reading verses 10-31 to myself, I always sarcastically answered "Exactly.  Who CAN find?" 

Priscilla Shirer conspicuously leaves out this citation altogether, and I don't think it's because she doesn't agree with it's implications.  She's a resourceful author and references feminine virtues that point to Jesus rather than another woman.  Maybe she's protecting us from the jealousy we inevitably feel whenever we're compared to that great woman. 

Whenever we're compared to any other woman. 

Erroneously, we believe that we can't measure up.  God's word affirms that our unique gifts make us special, useful, and worthy.  Whether feminine or masculine, our purpose is the same:  to point others to Christ.  How do we do that?  I apologize in advance, but I'll have to use that culturally taboo word:  SUBMISSION.  All it really means is that I'm willing to put you before me.  Your deal before my deal.

The Proverbs 31 Woman shows herself in eleven primary characteristics.  She's

• Virtuous
• Trustworthy
• Energetic
• Physically Fit
• Economical
• Unselfish
• Prepared
• Honorable
• Prudent
• Loving
• God-Fearing

It's egocentric to think that all of those eleven characteristics are exclusively female.  Yet, I find it extremely gratifying that God created us to exemplify them through the outpouring of our character as we interact with our family, co-workers, and friends.  Understanding that he created me for the role I am in now inspires me to embrace  and uphold Biblical femininity purely for the virtue, if not because it's the will of God for my life.

Good Writing: It's All in the Recipe

I've spent the better part of my married life learning how to cook.  Those early months were not pretty.  Though I enjoyed eating, I lacked the capacity to simmer, steam, and stew the raw ingredients.   Dinner often consisted of Tuna Helper or fried ham steak.  Eventually, we progressed to something more "gourmet."  Gavin took chicken breast, seasoned it with whatever we had on hand, and then sauteed it in a mixture of liquid flavorings--worcestershire, soy sauce, or lemon juice.  We tossed the result with buttered rice or noodles.  Bon Appetit!

When I brought my firstborn daughter home, I found myself with large chunks of time on my hands.  Since newborns do just three things--sleep, cry, and nurse-- I found myself rocking the baby and watching endless hours of programming on the Food Network.  And thus, I learned to cook.  I began to understand the value in marinating meat, being careful to use just the right pots and utensils.  When marinating with something acidic like lemon, you couldn't leave it on the meat too long or it would actually "cook" it.  You couldn't use a metal pan.  To make spaghetti sauce taste like it had been simmering all day, add a little beef stock.  Don't over-mix the bread dough or your pastry would be tough.  I watched, and I remembered, and I experimented.

Little by little, our limited menu expanded.  I tackled stuffed pork tenderloin and grilled salmon.  I began to add my own twists to some of the dishes--a pinch of cinnamon here or a touch of tabasco there.  I printed out our favorites, refining them until at last I had my own cookbook of sorts--family favorites I could make again and again.  I declared each dish delicious because I had studied the technique, then perfected it myself.

Oh, I made mistakes in the process.  Once I tried to heat the ceramic insert of my crock pot directly on the burner of my stove.  After a series of puzzling pops, all six quarts of a very chunky vegetable soup exploded in my kitchen.  Another time, I drizzled hot chocolate over inflated balloons in an effort to make these darling little chocolate nest bowls I had seen one beloved pastry chef demonstrate.  The hot chocolate caused the balloons to burst, and I ended up scraping the cocoa confection from every surface and crevice in my entire kitchen.  Two years later, I was still finding chocolate on isolated door hinges and light fixtures.  And yet from both of those experiences, I learned some important lessons.

1.  Having the right parts on hand make a big difference.
2.  Process matters.
3.  Patience prevents disaster.
4.  Persistence pays off.

So writing is a lot like cooking.  I have all these ideas just jiggling around in my head like the ingredients for a gourmet souffle.  I want to get them all down as fast as I possibly can.  That souffle is going to be really good when it's done, but I don't want the whole thing to collapse.  The perfect combination of plot, characters, conflict, and climax can be pretty fragile.   I don't want to get ahead of myself.  I'm spending some time studying the masters and learning the craft, practicing with proven exercises, then beginning at the beginning and proceeding step by step.  Good art is rarely accidental just as a good dish is rarely the result of unguided happenstance.  In the creative recesses of my imagination, something delicious is percolating.

As Julia Child noted most sagaciously, "No one is born a great cook.  One learns by doing".  Hunched over my keyboard as I am right now, I can eat that up and taste the satisfaction of having done all I could to perfect the technique that makes for a great dish...or a great script.