If you knew . . .

When Jesus was talking to the Samaritan woman at the well, He said to her.  "If you knew . . . who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked Him for a drink. . ."

That line struck me this week.

There is a lot of stuff that I feel Jesus asks me to do.  He asks me to love the unlovable, to give to the undeserving, to put away myself, to allow His spirit to inhabit me.  Sometimes He asks me to praise Him.  Sometimes He asks me to listen.  Sometimes He asks me to speak.

Sometimes I feel like He's asking too much of me.  Like I don't have the strength or the capacity to respond to His requests.  I push Him back and say, "Not today, Jesus.  Please just cut me some slack."

But if I knew - if I REALLY knew - who it was that was asking me to do these things...



If you knew Who it was that was asking you for a minute of your time, you would take all your minutes and lay them at His feet.


If you knew Who it was that was asking you for your faithfulness, you would take all your doubt and lay them at His feet.


If you knew Who it was that was asking you for praise, you would take yourself to His feet and lay down.


If you only knew Who . . .

It actually worked!

Okay, so I talk a lot about parenting with love but when it comes down to it, I often just naturally resort to the time-out and punishment systems.  I often think about the love-method afterwards and then I think, "Oh well, next time."  But today I actually thought about it before the discipline.  My excessively tired 4-yr-old was crying about eating her tiny bowls of almond butter and applesauce upstairs.  I said no because we don't take food upstairs.  She insisted that she would be careful.  I firmly (but not harshly) repeated the "no" response.  She started throwing a fit as I removed the little bowls from her reach.  I sat down on a stool next to her and said, "Come here, baby.  Let me hold you for a minute."  She cried, "No!  I don't want to hug you!  I want to eat upstairs!"  She ran away into the living room and threw herself onto the couch, crying dramatically.  See what I mean?  Very tired little girl.

So I called to her quietly, "I'd really like to hug you."

She yelled back, "I don't want you to hug me!!"

I responded, "But I still want to hug you.  I'll just wait here with my arms open, just in case you change your mind.  I really want to hold you."  I couldn't see her from my spot on the stool because the bar island stood between us.

She started crying and yelling again, "I don't WANT you to hug me!"  She yelled the same phrase a couple more times as I reminded her that I still wanted to hug her.  Then she repeated herself one last time as she ran around the island, "I don't want you to hug me," she cried with tears, as she ran into my outstretched arms.  She cried in my arms for a while and then I kissed her and asked her if she'd like to eat her almond butter and applesauce.  With a calm, little voice, she said yes, and sat on the stool and ate her little yummies.

I stood there looking at her and was stunned. Oh my goodness!  I thought to myself.  It actually worked.  I need to write this down in case I forget!

On another occasion I would have just gotten more and more frustrated and taken away some privilege because throwing a fit is never acceptable.  I would enforce the no-eating-upstairs rule until she broke.  Then her spirit would be wounded and my tolerance level would be strained and the atmosphere in the home would be uncomfortable and ugly.  And no one would fault me because all I did was stand firm on a household rule. It's good to be firm and adhere to the rules, but sometimes it's done in a way that says, "I made the rule and I will enforce it and don't you dare try to test me or else."

This new thing I tried today was so simple that it's ridiculous.  I removed the option from her and when she threw the expected tantrum, I just offered to hold her.  No punishment; the punishment was the rule I guess.  I don't know. Whatever.  I'm just saying that it worked.




Okay, so later in the car, during the hour-long ride from Ikea, the kids were eating a little snack.  Jayden had finished his snack and he asked his sister for a bite of hers.  She agreed but then after tasting her biscuit, she said that she changed her mind and wouldn't give him any.  My son got reasonably upset and tried to swipe it from her.  He complained to me about the unfairness of the situation.  During the evening rush hour traffic I found myself mediating the "crash" inside the car.

"Maci, did you say you would share with your brother?"

"Yup!" She replied matter-of-factly.

"Then why don't you share?"

"I changed my mind."

Jayden growled like a panther.  "That's NOT fair!  She said she would!  She can't change her mind!"

"Actually Jayden, she can.  It isn't very kind.  In fact it's a very unloving way to behave but she can change her mind if she wants.  It's her biscuit."

Jayden did his squeal-growl again.  Maci looked at him with her neener-neener look.  So he grabbed the iPad that they had both been watching and turned it away from her so she couldn't see it anymore.  She responded by attacking him with her puny, little fist.  The fighting ensued; it was as if the tiny crash had caused a pile-up of other cars on our figurative "road trip."

"Jayden, why are you doing taking away the iPad?"

"If she's not going to share with me, then I'm not going to share with her!"

"So when she's unloving to you, you're going to be unloving to her?"

"Yes!" he said with angry resolve.

"Then the unloving behavior will continue, Jayden."

"So?"

As a last resort, I said, "So . . . Jesus asked His friends to show love when others were unloving.  Try it.  When she's unloving to you, show her some love and see if that changes anything."

In my review mirror, I could see his scowl soften as he slowly turned the iPad toward his sister.  Her entire countenance changed as he did this.  The unshared biscuit was forgotten as he diligently attempted to show her love.  She accepted his extension of love and he seemed content.  A moment later I could hear Maci saying, "Here Jayden, do you want a sliver of my biscuit?"

Jayden responded with, "Sure!  Thanks, Maci!"

Maci smiled, "Here's another sliver.  Just a little one."

I could see Love arrive at the scene of the accident and clean up all evidence of the crash.  I'm not going to push this "car crash analogy" very far cause it's kind of silly.  But you see what I'm saying?

I put my mind in God and He makes me say crazy stuff like, "Well, son, Jesus asks us to return unloving behavior with love."  Yeah, right.  Like, do I even do that?  I sat there, driving in silence as the kids munched on slivers of biscuit while they watched Curious George and I wondered if I really do the things I tell my kids to do.

The truth is, I suck at returning unlove with love.  When I am unloved it is an excuse for me to return to my natural instincts, the ones from this earth, not from the heart of God.  If I am unloved, I justify returning that kind of treatment with more unlove.   But unlove isn't even a word!  My spell-checker keeps underlining it and keeps trying to auto correct it to "unloved."  No thanks, autocorrect. "Unloved" is a noun.  Unlove is a verb, 'cause I just decided that.  It is action.  It is something I do.  And it is something I need to STOP doing because it's not even a real word.

I'm just trying to take an honest look at my expectations for my kids.  I expect so much more from them.  I hope for so much more for them.  God grants me little parenting gifts from His amazing arsenal of tips and tricks and I just toss them out to the kids and forget that I'm a kid too.  He's trying to raise me to be a loving child of His too.

This is why I needed to write this down.  I needed to process it and remember it and actively apply it right now.

So stop.  Stop and think about the last time you were treated unlovingly.  What was your response?  What was my response?  Was it love?  No, it wasn't.  Did it work?  Um, no; it only got worse.  Hmmm.  Replay that situation again in your head.  I will replay my situation again too.  This time I will respond in love.  So how did things change in the scenario in your head?  Well, I don't know how things could have been because I can't control how the other person reacts.  But I DO know how my heart feels.  It feels light and free and that is neat.  My son felt better when he decided to return his sister's unloving acts with love.  She hadn't given him the biscuit yet but he already felt better.  The shared biscuit was just a perk.  The real treat was the happy heart.

just Love them

A child breaks a lamp after throwing a stuffed animal across the room, looks at mom and cries, "Mommy, are you mad?"

Mother kneels to the child's eye level, looks the child squarely in the eye and says, "I'm not mad, just disappointed; you know you shouldn't throw things in the house." The child breaks down and cries harder because he/she has failed their parent.  And in their heart they are determined to try harder next time so that they don't disappoint.

Everyone applauds the parent for not getting angry.  And the idea that disappointment in our children will reap more effective results than if we get angry with them, is perpetuated.

Now, don't get me wrong; I have used that line many times, especially as a teacher.  Student is caught cheating or misbehaving and I lay on the guilt, "I'm just disappointed in you; not angry."  I never even thought twice about using this line since I hear it all over the place.

But check this out:  It sucks.  Because the definition of disappointment is as follows: being sad or displeased because someone has failed to fulfill one's hopes or expectations.

". . . because someone has failed . . ."

Oh dear.  My children don't fail.  They stumble and they make mistakes but they never fail.

But you might be thinking I'm just overreacting; that the "displeasure" is only regarding the incident at hand, not the whole child; the broken lamp or the cheated paper or whatever.  Okay, so let's say the reaction of "disappointment" is just periodic; only when the child actually fails.  Yeah, but there's the problem right there.  No one fails. To fail is to not succeed in reaching your goal.  If your goal is to be a child of God, you can never fail.  That is the only goal worth aiming for so that is the only one I will teach to my children.

It is okay to have expectations and to make efforts towards an end goal?  But what if that end goal is not achieved?  Are we to be disappointed with our children?  To make them feel guilty?  Of course not.  We are to be sympathetic.  No, scratch that.  Not sympathetic.  Empathetic (i.e. having the ability to understand and share one's feelings.)  Because we have all struggled to live up to our expectations for ourselves.

So when a child breaks something because they forgot how to behave properly, or when they misbehave because they can't find the will to do right, or when they look for the easy, but deceitful way out of a situation because they can't seem to find the right way, then we empathize with them.  We don't express disappointment and make them feel that they have failed at the job of being a child.  We are sorry with them.

"Honey, I'm sorry that you broke that lamp.  I know you feel terrible.  I used to feel terrible, too, when I was a kid and did something naughty.  Mommy understands; I was just like you.  And sometimes I still am."  It is easier to hold a child when you're empathetic than when you're disappointed.  Disappointment breeds some sort of distance.  Like, "You're a failure; you kind of suck."  But empathy says, "I feel you; my heart is connected with yours."

So . . . love, I guess.  Love is the correct response to a situation when someone (with feelings) doesn't meet expectations; love is the only thing that can change their behavior anyway, right?  Nah, love doesn't fix everything, you say.  Well, let me put it this way, then:  the only thing that can change behavior is Love.   Kind of sounds like I said the same thing just now except that I capitalized the word "Love."

Love = Jesus.  Jesus is the only one that can change our tendencies and behaviors and habits.

We have one job.  That is the job to love.  To lift people up to Love (aka Jesus).  To let Him take care of the work.  But children should be disciplined; expectations need to be clear; punishments should be determined and administered.  Yes, but with Love.  Okay, so here we go again.  I'm going to try to love my kids into good behavior.  Seasoned parents are laughing and thinking, you foolish woman.  How far do you think you'll get?  Well, I'm aiming for the Kingdom . . . and the best way to get there is on the path of Love.  That is, after all, how Jesus deals with me when I mess up.  He has never said He's disappointed in me.  He's never said that I have failed him and I should try harder next time.  He just holds me and says, "I understand how hard it is.  Just rest here for a while and when you get up you'll be stronger."

This perspective is not just for children, of course.  It's for everyone.  So your spouse struggles with addiction and you think to yourself, Well, I'd really like to be empathetic but I've never struggled with addiction, so I can just tell them how disappointed I am in them and hopefully it will motivate them to change.  If they really loved me they wouldn't want to disappoint me. Wow.  All of the sudden that perspective is so disturbing to me.  I've actually had that approach used on me, before, for my own struggles, which, I suppose, is why I'm so passionate about this right now.  But if there is anyone that thinks they have never struggled with addiction, then, by all means, be the first to cast your stone.  We are all addicted to sin.  It's in our blood.  But the power to overcome it is in Jesus' blood.  And Jesus IS Love, and Love's blood poured out to cover our sins.  If it's good enough for our sins, why is it not good enough for other people's sins?

If I have a friend or a spouse or a brother or a sister or a neighbor or a coworker who is having difficulty meeting a preset expectation, I need to get off my high horse and connect with them through my own struggles and shortcomings.

Just Love people, please.  Don't try to manipulate their behavior by acting disappointment in their failure.  Just Love them.  

Inverse Functions

The conversation about where we were before we were born ensued again today at the breakfast table.  My 4-year-old wanted to know if she helped me learn to pour my milk into my cereal when I was a little girl.  I told her that she was still a heartbeat in God's heart when I was a little girl.  She decided she was probably as small as a bee.  Or maybe a fly.  Or maybe. . .

"You were nothing!" my son snapped at her.  "You didn't even exist!"

She frowned and looked at me.  I told my son that she wasn't "nothing."  She was everything.  Being a thought of love in God's heart is everything and there is nothing else that matters.  Not the size of the fly or the person or whether they have a human body yet or not.  Every child ever conceived, even the ones that were never born to full term, are everything to God and He knows them by name.

My son seemed content with that response and started mentioning other people that were named when they were still tiny beans in their mom's belly.

"Even Jesus!" Maci added.

"Yes, even Jesus was born in a belly," I agreed.

My 8-year-old boy sat still for just a second and asked, "What about God?  Was He ever born?"

I told Him that God has always been and always will be; He was not created.  He asked how that was possible and why he couldn't understand it and why it didn't make sense.

His mind seemed to try to grasp the concept and he looked confused and frustrated. I recognized the look that came over his face because I had (and still have) experienced it many times.  A look that screams, "I don't understand, so I don't want to think about it!  It makes me mad when I don't understand!  It's stupid!"  I can't even count all the times that I threw out truths about God just because they didn't make sense to me.  It angered me.

With his face squished up in confusion, my son said, "That doesn't make sense.  How can God always be?"

I thought to myself, Well shoot. I don't know, kid.  I've struggled with it and even lost sleep on many, many nights trying to make sense of stuff like this.  I was willing to give up heaven because it didn't make sense to me.

But when I spoke, these words came out instead, "Well, let me ask you this.  You're good at math, right?"  He nodded cause he knows that he's really super good at adding numbers.  "So then can you calculate the hypotenuse of a triangle using Pythogream's theorum of a² + b² = c²?"

His response was, "Can I what the who with the what?"

"Exactly." I said.  "You know math and how to add and how to subtract and measure and even a littel bit of multiplication and division, but that doesn't mean you're ready to understand Geometry."

"What's jimmetry?"  he asked.

"Well, it's a kind of math that you learn after addition/subtraction/multiplication/division.  It's a more advanced kind of math, like Algebra.  When students understand the basics, they can move on to more advanced stuff and then even to Calculus and Trigonometry."  

He was completely lost on all the terms.  He said, "I don't even know what those things are."

"I know that," I said.  "But they exist and they make sense to people who have studied things one step at a time."  I told him how I thought it would be fun to take a Calculus and Trigonometry class because I was good at Algebra and Geometry.  But halfway through Calculus, it started looking like a different language.  By the time I got to trigonometry, I was totally confused and just trying to follow the formulas even though they made absolutely no sense to me.  When I tried to understand it, my brain felt like it wanted to explode.  My calc/trig teacher understood all of it.  He could solve problems in his sleep, with half of his brain tied up in a dream about flying panda bears.  But he couldn't explain it to me.  Probably because he wasn't real good with the whole explaining thing in general.  He was a genius but I wasn't, so I had a hard time understanding.  So even though I had a foundation for these more advanced maths, that didn't mean I was capable of understanding them.  

Luckily, God totally understands these concepts that make our brains want to explode.  And He knows we're not ready for them.  Someday we will be.  Maybe someday far, far away with heavenly bodies and heavenly brains.  But right now, we are using such a tiny percentage of our brain and simply cannot process the understandings of these concepts.  

I asked my son if he was mad that he couldn't figure out why the tangent of an angle is the ratio of the sine to the cosine.  (wow, my brain wants to explode just writing that out; and my heart starts to panic).  Anyway, he was not upset about it.  He even laughed because he is nowhere near understanding these mathematical concepts.  He's okay with the idea that his mind is still growing.

So why am I so hung up on understanding everything that God says is truth?  Why do I get mad and angry cause it "JUST doesn't make sense!!"  It seems silly.  I honestly get way too hung up on that kind of stuff. 

For example:  

How is it possible that Jesus is not condemning me if I did wrong?  I should be condemned.  How does His death pay the price for me?  How is that even possible?  Aren't there consequences I need to embrace before I can desire to change?  What do you mean "God will change me?"  How does that work?  How is that even possible?  

It's frustrating to me that I'm just supposed to accept the "truths" of Jesus' words without even doing the work myself.  It's like trying to solve a trigonometric function using the formula without even understanding the formula.  I'm so lost.  I'm so confused and frustrated that my brain can't wrap around all of this stuff and I'm just supposed to accept that it's true.  There's too much in my brain and it feels like it's going to explode.  

But my son is at peace because he is confident in his addition skills.  Adding makes sense.  He is happy with adding.  When he's ready, he may desire more advanced math courses.  When he's ready.  Right now, he just needs to worry about adding 2+2.  Or maybe even 354+213.  He loves big numbers like that.  He even knows how to carry.  

There is so much peace in resting in the knowledge that I have.  I know it won't be enough forever.  But right now I know that Jesus adores me.  He can't get enough of me and can hardly wait for me to spend more time with Him.  I know that He is shaping me from the inside-out.  Don't ask me to explain it 'cause I can't.  I know some stuff.  So when I get all mad and anxious and hyperventilaty about things that don't make sense to me, I just want to go back to the basics and rest a while.  'Cause my basic understanding is incredibly beautiful and a place where I fall in love all over again.  I think it might even be okay if I stay there a long time.  When I'm ready, God will teach me more.  When I'm ready...  

****************************************************************
And in case you're wondering about the significance of the title, an inverse function is: 

...is a function that undoes another function: If the function fapplied to an input x gives a result of y, then applying the inverse function g to y gives the result x, and vice versa. i.e. f(x) = y, and g(y) = x. More directly, g(f(x)) = x, meaning g composed with fform an identity.

Give yourself a pat on the back if you understand that language.  Or buy buy a crown and wear it proudly.  But for the rest of us, let me break it down for you, like someone else did for me.  With inverse functions, when one number gets bigger, the other one gets smaller.  The function produces the opposite effect for the numbers involved.  

Do you understand the spiritual significance of this trigonometric function?  Jesus, bigger.  Me, smaller.  That's a whole lot better and more functional than Me, bigger.  Jesus, smaller.

So anytime you place Jesus first and make Him more, you become less and you're basically doing Trigonometry.  You're very cool.  And when people joke about how another day has passed and they never used Algebra even once, you can stand proud and say, "Really?  That's too bad; cause I use Trigonometry every day."  

Sonflower

It's been a challenging day, emotionally speaking, but for no solid reason whatsoever.  Some days are just like that, I guess.  But I like looking at the picture of this sunflower.  I have looked at it multiple times today and have used it to illustrate many spiritual lessons.  

It somehow soothes my soul.

I don't know how much I have to say about it right now.  I just want to look at it.  

I am so worn out from the challenge of caring for four needy, loud, fighting children, that I feel like I need to look up, like this sunflower is doing. 

I just need to look up. . .

to be a flower in an open field, soaking in the sun's rays

to stand with other flowers and just smile and breathe

to rise in the rain, and feel it cleansing me and refreshing me  

to endure the wind with confidence, knowing that my roots are secure

to spend every waking moment absorbing all the elements the earth has to offer

to just look at the sun

what kind of weather will cause me to snap?  

sunflowers have pretty strong stems  

I'm not a pansy

I'm a sunflower

I aim to mirror the Son

oops, I guess I meant to say "sun"

I'm a sunflower, I said

I am named after the Sun

I am named after the Son

I am created to look like the Son

to resemble His beauty

to draw others to thoughts of the true Son

not to snap like a blade of grass 

but to stand tall and strong

ever growing

to the heavens

never stopping

like a grand cedar 

except that I'm a flower

a Sonflower

just hug me

This may come as a surprise to everyone who has met my perfect children, but my children are not actually perfect.  Among the many parenting challenges lies the challenge of getting them to sit still at the dinner table.  Dinner is not the image of peaceful family time and pleasant conversation.  Attempting a conversation with another adult, sitting across the table, is a near impossible task.  We are interrupted repeatedly by yelling, demands, complaints, squeals, laughs, the occasional burp followed by uproarious laughter as we react with, "Please say excuse me. Jayden, don't encourage her.  Stop laughing.  Act like a gentleman.  Maci don't force another burp."

Our dinner conversations don't revolve around activities of the day but rather, "Sit down in your seat.  Eat over your plate.  Come back to your seat.  Keep your food on the plate.  Why are you spitting that out?  Take 3 more bites.  Stop trying to lap up your milk like a dog.  Use your fork, etc. . .  The children are loud, they are restless, they make me want to take my plate of food and eat in the car... in the garage... of anther house... 26 miles away.

I know that kids will be kids, but they can do better.  I just know they can.  I also know that much of their potential lies in our ability to parent them.  So I finally decided to get serious about dinner.  So I've been more firm and more consistent with my discipline lately, trying to undo some of the damage of summertime fun.  I'm trying to follow through more readily and be reasonable with my expectations.  I informed the children that they would have only 3 opportunities to adjust their behavior during dinner and then they would be excused.  Strike 1: time out in their room. Strike 2: a firm hand of discipline.  Strike 3: excused.

My daughter progressed up to the second warning within a matter of seconds and she waited in her room for me to come up and administer the discipline I had promised.  I went upstairs and I sat across from her on the bed and said, "Maci, how can I help you to sit more respectfully at the dinner table? What can I do to help you understand how important it is to be respectful?"  She looked at me woefully and mumbled two small words.  I didn't hear her so I asked her to repeat it.  I still couldn't make out the words.  I leaned it closer and said, "I can't hear you; say it again."  She looked me right in the eyes and whispered, "Hug me."

I leaned back to sitting position and asked, "Hug you?"

"Yes," she said meekly.  "Hug me and kiss me and I will do better.  You'll see."

I smiled and opened my arms to her and she ran right in.  I sat there holding her, amazed at her profound understanding of God's love for us.  It is not firm discipline and punishment that turns our hearts to God; it is love.  If God guides us like that, then shouldn't I be guiding my kids the same way?

My kids know that I love them; there is no question about that. And when I do discipline them it is with as much love as I possess.  My son just lost his iPod stories for an entire week because of his new-found habit of lying.  His iPod stories are his life!  He uses them daily to unwind and enjoy.  But he understood that he had earned that loss and it was fair.  The discipline was not administered in anger so I figured the loss of privilege was fair and motivating.  But what if I disciplined only with love?  What would that even look like?  Is that even possible?  I always figured that God could continue to love us even when we mess up, but children are different because they need solid boundaries and consequences.  I'm still not sure about this balance.

This morning I decided we'd eat breakfast at the dinner table instead of at the bar.  The standard hop-out-of-the-seat-and-run-around behavior commenced.  I called Maci on it and asked her to come over to me to receive her "punishment."  She came over slowly and stood in front of me eyeing me with her big, innocent eyes.  Again, I opened my arms to her and she cuddled right in.  She said, "Just hold me for a little bit."  So I did.  She went back to her seat and ate the rest of her breakfast without incident.  I don't know if it's going to be that easy because it seems too easy.  You know what I mean?  It makes sense that you can motivate someone with love rather than with discipline.  But can it work for everything?  I'm not sure about it.  But I'm willing to try.