I played cards with my five year old niece not long ago. Always an interesting experience. The idea of the game was to make as many princess pairs as possible without ending up with the Joker - Ursula the sea witch.
We laid down the pairs we already had then took turns selecting one card from the other person’s hand. Eyes closed, of course. Tori was noticeably upset when she drew Ursula from my hand. I was waiting for the chance to get it back in the remaining turns, but she never showed up. Finally, I realized there were several cards missing. We kept exchanging the same few cards without making any new matches.
So I challenged her, “Tori, do you have the Ursula card somewhere other than in your hand?”
She squirmed and shrugged; looking at me with angel blue eyes, but wouldn’t admit to anything. Then in a telltale move, she glanced at the hiding place behind her.
“Did you hide Ursula behind your back?”
Tori sheepishly admitted, “I don’t like Ursula.”
“But honey, if you hide Ursula behind your back you automatically lose the game. I can’t pick her from your hand if she’s back there.” I saw realization in her eyes.
How many times have I done that? I try to hide my sin from God (as if I could) because I know it’s bad. But then God can’t deal with the sin that is troubling me. Jesus wants to take it away. He knows the secret place in my heart where I have hidden it. He is waiting for me to hold it out and let Him take the offending card – my impure thoughts, my complaining spirit, my selfishness and ingratitude, my feelings of worthlessness and despair, my cutting words.
Why do I conceal these sins behind my back? Do I think if I ignore them they will go away? Or have I been duped by Satan’s lie that God wants to ruin all my fun? Or am I so ashamed of what I have done, what I have spoken, what I have thought, that I don’t think God will want to forgive me? When I believe those lies I’m the one who loses. The Bible assures us that when we confess, He forgives, period.
Life is so much more than a game. What we choose to do with sin now not only affects where we spend eternity, but it makes a profound difference in our life here and now. Confession destroys the barrier between us and God, as well as us and others. It opens the door to love, peace, laughter, strength, and so much more! I am ashamed I have tried to hide anything from the One who wants what is best for me. I am determined to daily, even moment by moment, hold out those Ursula cards for Jesus to deal with as only He can.
(c) Beth Vice, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Comparing Scars: Easter
It doesn’t take long in any group before people start telling scar stories. One person mentions a broken arm or leg, a concussion, and pretty soon everyone is rolling up their sleeves or pant legs to tell another “I can top that” story. Getting older doesn’t make us immune to showing off either. My sister caught sight of Grandpa doing just that with her neighbor across the street. She witnessed two old men in coveralls unzipped to the waist comparing their scars from open heart surgery.
Their scars saved their lives, but most of our scars are from childhood injuries or stupid stunts we pulled. My oldest daughter has a perfect two-inch circle on each leg from leaning against a motorcycle exhaust pipe when she was young. The horrible burns weren’t enough for her though; she picked at the scabs until they became infected. Then she would really have something to show off.
Although you have to dig through her hair to find it, my younger daughter has a scar on her head from stitches she got at age three. She and her friends played in the back while we moms visited inside. My girlfriend didn’t know her boy had dragged his father’s pick axe into the sandbox. Suddenly the whole tribe came running in the house with my daughter screaming wildly. Crimson blood streamed through her white-blonde hair. One of the children had picked up the axe and fell backward under its weight cutting her head.
Imagine what the boasting might sound like in heaven if a group of top name Christians started comparing their scars.
“These stripes on my back,” Paul might say, pulling back his robe, “are from the time I was lashed 39 times for preaching about Jesus. I got these rope burns when the believers in Damascus snuck me out of the city.” He gives a sideways glance. “They lowered me in a basket through a hole in the wall.” The men around him laugh. “And these scars are from the shipwreck off the coast of Malta, and here’s where the viper bit me...”
When one of the men is distracted by the obvious deformity of another, Apostle John explains. “My skin just hasn’t been the same they boiled me in oil. They thought they could get me to denounce my faith. When I survived that, they exiled me to the Island of Patmos rather than risk any further embarrassment.”
Elijah, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, everybody gets in on the act. For days on end, Christians persecuted throughout the ages show bullet wounds, saw marks, seared flesh, spear marks, and tell how they were hunted like wild animals. Everybody tries to top the last guy…until Jesus walks into the room. Suddenly everyone is silent.
I see myself in the crowd. Jesus approaches me and points to the scar on my knee and asks, “How did this happen child?
I am embarrassed. I don't have any grand stories of persecution, escape, or endurance. My scars are small in comparison. But He persists, so I answer. “You already know, Lord. You were there. You know all about me.”
His eyes are warm as He smiles and nods. “Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you.”
“I got that from rollerblading. I skinned my knee, cut my thumb, and wrenched my shoulder when I fell. My daughters’ laughter hurt more though. They thought it was pretty funny, their forty-two year old mom on roller blades.”
“Yes,” replies Jesus. He touches the scar at His temples. “I know how it feels to be made fun of. They put a crown of thorns on me and laughed at the thought of my being a king.” He takes my hand and we begin to walk. He notices the scar on my finger. “How about this one?”
“That’s from high school wood shop. The person before me took the safety arm off the table saw and forgot to put it back. I didn’t notice until my board started to kick back. I panicked and let go. The board sliced through my finger, hit me in the stomach, and bounced off the wall in front of me.”
“Hmm,” Jesus sympathizes. “People don’t realize what they’re doing sometimes. See these scars on my hands and feet? The men who nailed me to the cross didn't know what they were doing. They had no idea.”
I feel so insignificant compared to my Savior, and yet here He is identifying with my pain. He leads me to a grassy spot and we sit. “What about this dent in your leg; what caused that?”
“Oh,” I laugh, “that’s kind of embarrassing. I got pinned to the ground by my yard debris bin.” Jesus laughs a kind hearted chuckle. “It had a lot of dirt and rocks mixed with the weeds and branches. When I tipped it to roll down the driveway it fell back on me and smashed my leg.” He looks sympathetic, so I continue. “I couldn’t lift it off or squirm out from under it and was afraid I had broken my leg. It was dark and cold, and no one around. I screamed until my voice almost gave out before my neighbors heard me. It took three men to lift it off. I felt scared and so alone.”
I see a tear coursing down Jesus’ face. “I remember how it is to feel alone. I had never felt that before. Even though there’s no scar to show you, that was my deepest wound of all. When the weight of the world’s sin was heavy on me, my Father had to look away. It is the only time we have ever been separated. That was the worst part of my death. I have never felt so forsaken.”
Seeing Jesus’ grief gives me courage to lean against His chest and wrap my arms around Him. “I am sorry, Lord. I know how it feels when the one you love the most turns away from you.” My heart hurts in remembering and He reaches out His hand to soothe my pain.
He nods. “Yes, Judas betrayed me, all the disciples except John ran away in fear, and even my Father had to turn away. I gave up my spirit after that and a soldier thrust his sword in here to make sure I was dead,” Jesus opens his robe and shows me the crimson scar. I touch it gingerly and melt into His chest weeping. I am embarrassed of my small scars. They are so insignificant compared to His. Yet this whole time Jesus has shown only compassion.
I look up at His face and Jesus is smiling! I pull back in surprise and He laughs - a glorious, head-back, joy-filled laugh. “All the pain is over now, child. None of your scars can hurt you anymore, because I wear these scars for you. I suffered shame, cursing, abandonment, cruelty, and uttermost darkness for you – I have conquered sin and death! I am alive to give you life. Your scars will all disappear when you receive your new heavenly body.”
“But what about yours?” I ask. “Why do you still have scars?”
“Because I am the perfect Lamb, slain for you. I will always wear these scars to remind people of what I have done. Everyone who comes to me for forgiveness will have all their scars healed.”
I didn’t want to leave, but the vision ended. I discovered myself back in my chair reading Revelation, “Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne… (5:6)” The Lion of Judah, the King of Kings, the sacrificed Lamb; my Savior. He is the only One who has scars worth bragging about. He didn’t get them by doing something stupid, or even to save His own life. He earned His scars by loving us to death, and back to life again.
© Beth Vice, March 2010
Their scars saved their lives, but most of our scars are from childhood injuries or stupid stunts we pulled. My oldest daughter has a perfect two-inch circle on each leg from leaning against a motorcycle exhaust pipe when she was young. The horrible burns weren’t enough for her though; she picked at the scabs until they became infected. Then she would really have something to show off.
Although you have to dig through her hair to find it, my younger daughter has a scar on her head from stitches she got at age three. She and her friends played in the back while we moms visited inside. My girlfriend didn’t know her boy had dragged his father’s pick axe into the sandbox. Suddenly the whole tribe came running in the house with my daughter screaming wildly. Crimson blood streamed through her white-blonde hair. One of the children had picked up the axe and fell backward under its weight cutting her head.
Imagine what the boasting might sound like in heaven if a group of top name Christians started comparing their scars.
“These stripes on my back,” Paul might say, pulling back his robe, “are from the time I was lashed 39 times for preaching about Jesus. I got these rope burns when the believers in Damascus snuck me out of the city.” He gives a sideways glance. “They lowered me in a basket through a hole in the wall.” The men around him laugh. “And these scars are from the shipwreck off the coast of Malta, and here’s where the viper bit me...”
When one of the men is distracted by the obvious deformity of another, Apostle John explains. “My skin just hasn’t been the same they boiled me in oil. They thought they could get me to denounce my faith. When I survived that, they exiled me to the Island of Patmos rather than risk any further embarrassment.”
Elijah, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, everybody gets in on the act. For days on end, Christians persecuted throughout the ages show bullet wounds, saw marks, seared flesh, spear marks, and tell how they were hunted like wild animals. Everybody tries to top the last guy…until Jesus walks into the room. Suddenly everyone is silent.
I see myself in the crowd. Jesus approaches me and points to the scar on my knee and asks, “How did this happen child?
I am embarrassed. I don't have any grand stories of persecution, escape, or endurance. My scars are small in comparison. But He persists, so I answer. “You already know, Lord. You were there. You know all about me.”
His eyes are warm as He smiles and nods. “Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you.”
“I got that from rollerblading. I skinned my knee, cut my thumb, and wrenched my shoulder when I fell. My daughters’ laughter hurt more though. They thought it was pretty funny, their forty-two year old mom on roller blades.”
“Yes,” replies Jesus. He touches the scar at His temples. “I know how it feels to be made fun of. They put a crown of thorns on me and laughed at the thought of my being a king.” He takes my hand and we begin to walk. He notices the scar on my finger. “How about this one?”
“That’s from high school wood shop. The person before me took the safety arm off the table saw and forgot to put it back. I didn’t notice until my board started to kick back. I panicked and let go. The board sliced through my finger, hit me in the stomach, and bounced off the wall in front of me.”
“Hmm,” Jesus sympathizes. “People don’t realize what they’re doing sometimes. See these scars on my hands and feet? The men who nailed me to the cross didn't know what they were doing. They had no idea.”
I feel so insignificant compared to my Savior, and yet here He is identifying with my pain. He leads me to a grassy spot and we sit. “What about this dent in your leg; what caused that?”
“Oh,” I laugh, “that’s kind of embarrassing. I got pinned to the ground by my yard debris bin.” Jesus laughs a kind hearted chuckle. “It had a lot of dirt and rocks mixed with the weeds and branches. When I tipped it to roll down the driveway it fell back on me and smashed my leg.” He looks sympathetic, so I continue. “I couldn’t lift it off or squirm out from under it and was afraid I had broken my leg. It was dark and cold, and no one around. I screamed until my voice almost gave out before my neighbors heard me. It took three men to lift it off. I felt scared and so alone.”
I see a tear coursing down Jesus’ face. “I remember how it is to feel alone. I had never felt that before. Even though there’s no scar to show you, that was my deepest wound of all. When the weight of the world’s sin was heavy on me, my Father had to look away. It is the only time we have ever been separated. That was the worst part of my death. I have never felt so forsaken.”
Seeing Jesus’ grief gives me courage to lean against His chest and wrap my arms around Him. “I am sorry, Lord. I know how it feels when the one you love the most turns away from you.” My heart hurts in remembering and He reaches out His hand to soothe my pain.
He nods. “Yes, Judas betrayed me, all the disciples except John ran away in fear, and even my Father had to turn away. I gave up my spirit after that and a soldier thrust his sword in here to make sure I was dead,” Jesus opens his robe and shows me the crimson scar. I touch it gingerly and melt into His chest weeping. I am embarrassed of my small scars. They are so insignificant compared to His. Yet this whole time Jesus has shown only compassion.
I look up at His face and Jesus is smiling! I pull back in surprise and He laughs - a glorious, head-back, joy-filled laugh. “All the pain is over now, child. None of your scars can hurt you anymore, because I wear these scars for you. I suffered shame, cursing, abandonment, cruelty, and uttermost darkness for you – I have conquered sin and death! I am alive to give you life. Your scars will all disappear when you receive your new heavenly body.”
“But what about yours?” I ask. “Why do you still have scars?”
“Because I am the perfect Lamb, slain for you. I will always wear these scars to remind people of what I have done. Everyone who comes to me for forgiveness will have all their scars healed.”
I didn’t want to leave, but the vision ended. I discovered myself back in my chair reading Revelation, “Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne… (5:6)” The Lion of Judah, the King of Kings, the sacrificed Lamb; my Savior. He is the only One who has scars worth bragging about. He didn’t get them by doing something stupid, or even to save His own life. He earned His scars by loving us to death, and back to life again.
© Beth Vice, March 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Fleas, Yeast, and Easter Housecleaning: Preparing for Easter
We went to a fancy beach house recently to spend the weekend with our kids and first grandbaby. We had reserved an elegant two story home with a back deck that leads right onto the sand of a long, semi-private beach. But the trip was ruined by fleas. At first we started finding them on our eight month old granddaughter’s head. That took away her freedom to sit on her blanket or roll around on the floor. Next we felt them chewing on our ankles. Despite the lovely setting and our excitement to be together, the fleas were a constant annoyance. We felt guilty every night as our kids said goodnight, knowing they were sleeping in flea infested bedrooms. Despite constant cleaning, washing clothes, and setting off flea bombs, we still found them everywhere.
Going home was no relief. My husband and I were itchy and freaked out for days. Every time we saw a black spot we were sure it was a flea. I washed everything we took on our trip, dirty or not. So much for a relaxing weekend. Even after every precaution, I woke up with new bites on my legs the next morning. Did we all take home fleas from vacation?
The sad thing is that none of this was our fault. Someone else brought in the first flea weeks ago and they went undetected until we entered the beach house. But we certainly felt the effects.
My husband did some research and found out that it takes only one flea to infest a home. Here are some itchy flea facts:
• Each flea can lay up to 2,000 eggs
• The eggs hatch into pupa in two weeks (during which time they go undetected)
• At three to four weeks the fleas are full grown
• Fleas can live on skin, blood, and fecal matter in a house for three to four weeks without a live host
• Bombing only kills fleas in the adult stage, not the eggs or pupa
• Fleas lay eggs in out of the way places that are not regularly cleaned, such as the carpet edge by the wall
Since it is less than a month until Easter, I have been thinking about ways to prepare my heart and truly focus on Jesus. This flea episode has given me some ideas. In Jewish homes, yeast is hunted down and destroyed for the celebration of Passover, which comes just prior to Easter. Bread without yeast commemorates the haste in which the Israelites had to leave Egypt and is symbolic of ridding their lives of sin before leaving for the Promised Land. Yeast is as unwanted during the holiday as our vacation fleas were.
In the New Testament, yeast is a symbol for sin which starts small but spreads at an alarming rate. Jesus warned His disciples about the yeast of the Pharisees, meaning their hypocrisy (Matthew 16, Mark 8, and Luke 12). Paul wrote, “Don't you know that a little yeast works through the whole batch of dough?” (1 Corinthians 5:6-7 and Galatians 5:9-10). He used yeast as an example of wrong teaching and selfish attitudes that can infect an entire body of believers. Just like fleas.
So how can I get rid of this yeast (sin) in my heart before it spreads to the rest of my family, my church, and beyond? My newly acquired knowledge in flea eradication turns out to be good spiritual advice as well. And just happens to match the verses I have been memorizing:
Be on the alert for incoming
It only takes one flea to infect a home and one sin to infect a group of believers. We have to be on guard! Sin can wear many disguises. The psalmist expresses my thoughts perfectly: “Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults” (Psalm 19:12). I invite the Lord to search my heart for quiet intruders before they reproduce.
Set off occasional bombs
This sounds drastic, and it is. We had to set off several bombs in the beach house to kill the full grown fleas that were feasting on us and making us miserable. Psalm 19:13 says, “Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression.” The full grown fleas are the obvious, premeditated sins in my life. They ruin relationships, suck the lifeblood of my faith, and will lead to other sins if not dealt with.
Practice regular house cleaning
It’s not my favorite thing to do, but occasionally I vacuum the edges of each room, clean the window coverings, de-crumb the furniture, and wipe down the woodwork of our home. It is tedious and time consuming, but it feels good to get everything sparkling. Easter is a good time to do spiritual spring cleaning. Two areas that need regular maintenance in my life are my words and my thoughts. The psalmist said, “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer” (Psalm 19:14).
I want to be ready to celebrate Easter with a pure heart. Like fleas, like yeast, like sin – there always seems to be little beasties creeping in and trying to take over. I do hate fleas! Hopefully our experience with them will be a good reminder to hate sin in my life even more.
© Beth Vice, 2010
Going home was no relief. My husband and I were itchy and freaked out for days. Every time we saw a black spot we were sure it was a flea. I washed everything we took on our trip, dirty or not. So much for a relaxing weekend. Even after every precaution, I woke up with new bites on my legs the next morning. Did we all take home fleas from vacation?
The sad thing is that none of this was our fault. Someone else brought in the first flea weeks ago and they went undetected until we entered the beach house. But we certainly felt the effects.
My husband did some research and found out that it takes only one flea to infest a home. Here are some itchy flea facts:
• Each flea can lay up to 2,000 eggs
• The eggs hatch into pupa in two weeks (during which time they go undetected)
• At three to four weeks the fleas are full grown
• Fleas can live on skin, blood, and fecal matter in a house for three to four weeks without a live host
• Bombing only kills fleas in the adult stage, not the eggs or pupa
• Fleas lay eggs in out of the way places that are not regularly cleaned, such as the carpet edge by the wall
Since it is less than a month until Easter, I have been thinking about ways to prepare my heart and truly focus on Jesus. This flea episode has given me some ideas. In Jewish homes, yeast is hunted down and destroyed for the celebration of Passover, which comes just prior to Easter. Bread without yeast commemorates the haste in which the Israelites had to leave Egypt and is symbolic of ridding their lives of sin before leaving for the Promised Land. Yeast is as unwanted during the holiday as our vacation fleas were.
In the New Testament, yeast is a symbol for sin which starts small but spreads at an alarming rate. Jesus warned His disciples about the yeast of the Pharisees, meaning their hypocrisy (Matthew 16, Mark 8, and Luke 12). Paul wrote, “Don't you know that a little yeast works through the whole batch of dough?” (1 Corinthians 5:6-7 and Galatians 5:9-10). He used yeast as an example of wrong teaching and selfish attitudes that can infect an entire body of believers. Just like fleas.
So how can I get rid of this yeast (sin) in my heart before it spreads to the rest of my family, my church, and beyond? My newly acquired knowledge in flea eradication turns out to be good spiritual advice as well. And just happens to match the verses I have been memorizing:
Be on the alert for incoming
It only takes one flea to infect a home and one sin to infect a group of believers. We have to be on guard! Sin can wear many disguises. The psalmist expresses my thoughts perfectly: “Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults” (Psalm 19:12). I invite the Lord to search my heart for quiet intruders before they reproduce.
Set off occasional bombs
This sounds drastic, and it is. We had to set off several bombs in the beach house to kill the full grown fleas that were feasting on us and making us miserable. Psalm 19:13 says, “Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression.” The full grown fleas are the obvious, premeditated sins in my life. They ruin relationships, suck the lifeblood of my faith, and will lead to other sins if not dealt with.
Practice regular house cleaning
It’s not my favorite thing to do, but occasionally I vacuum the edges of each room, clean the window coverings, de-crumb the furniture, and wipe down the woodwork of our home. It is tedious and time consuming, but it feels good to get everything sparkling. Easter is a good time to do spiritual spring cleaning. Two areas that need regular maintenance in my life are my words and my thoughts. The psalmist said, “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer” (Psalm 19:14).
I want to be ready to celebrate Easter with a pure heart. Like fleas, like yeast, like sin – there always seems to be little beasties creeping in and trying to take over. I do hate fleas! Hopefully our experience with them will be a good reminder to hate sin in my life even more.
© Beth Vice, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Dance With the Joyful, from Peace Within Your Borders
The following devotion is from an updated version of Peace Within Your Borders - a devotional for homeschooling moms. This is from the month of July: Living in Joy.
You might be going through heartache or tremendous pressure right now. And as you read the title of this week’s devotion, you might have thought, “Yeah, right. I don’t feel very much like dancing today. In fact, I’m not sure I will ever dance again.”
Jeremiah was called the weeping prophet for very good reason. He had the depressing task of telling his people that because of their disobedience they were going to be conquered by the Babylonians. God said they would not repent or believe him until it happened, but to tell them anyway. They responded to his message by putting him in a well, where they left him for dead. Jeremiah 38:6 says, “They lowered Jeremiah by ropes into the cistern; it had no water in it, only mud, and Jeremiah sank down into the mud.”
Maybe that’s how it feels where you are today, like you’re sinking down into the mud. If you’re not there now, perhaps you remember a time when you were. Before Jeremiah ended up in the well, God gave him a word of hope. The nation would suffer tremendously, but eventually things would get better for the faithful. They would feel joy again; they would dance again.
Hudson Taylor said, “It doesn’t matter, really, how great the pressure is; it only matters where the pressure lies. See that it never comes between you and the Lord – then, the greater the pressure, the more it presses you to His breast.”
Chuck Swindoll commented on this in his book Laugh Again: “The pressure on you may be intense. A half-dozen joy stealers may be waiting outside your door, ready to pounce at the first opportunity. However, nothing can rob you of your hold on grace, your claim to peace, or your confidence in God without your permission. Choose joy. Never release your grip!”
I encourage you today. Hold onto to the joy God planted in your heart the day you gave your life to Him. Heartache, grief, and pressure may be bearing down on you so hard you feel you can hardly take a breath. Don’t let the pressure separate you from Christ, but instead drive you closer to Him. Jesus has experienced this kind of pain. But He chose to look beyond the cross and the rejection of man, to the joyous victory of the resurrection. And because He conquered death, we can dance.
Dearest Father, there are days when I don’t feel very much like dancing. The pain of this world crushes and perplexes me. In times like this draw me close to you. Don’t let me lose my grip on joy. I will trust in you. Amen.
~ Beth Vice, 2010
Dance With the Joyful
The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying:
"I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.
I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel.
Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful.
Again you will plant vineyards on the hills of Samaria;
the farmers will plant them and enjoy their fruit. Jeremiah 31:3-5
You might be going through heartache or tremendous pressure right now. And as you read the title of this week’s devotion, you might have thought, “Yeah, right. I don’t feel very much like dancing today. In fact, I’m not sure I will ever dance again.”
Jeremiah was called the weeping prophet for very good reason. He had the depressing task of telling his people that because of their disobedience they were going to be conquered by the Babylonians. God said they would not repent or believe him until it happened, but to tell them anyway. They responded to his message by putting him in a well, where they left him for dead. Jeremiah 38:6 says, “They lowered Jeremiah by ropes into the cistern; it had no water in it, only mud, and Jeremiah sank down into the mud.”
Maybe that’s how it feels where you are today, like you’re sinking down into the mud. If you’re not there now, perhaps you remember a time when you were. Before Jeremiah ended up in the well, God gave him a word of hope. The nation would suffer tremendously, but eventually things would get better for the faithful. They would feel joy again; they would dance again.
Hudson Taylor said, “It doesn’t matter, really, how great the pressure is; it only matters where the pressure lies. See that it never comes between you and the Lord – then, the greater the pressure, the more it presses you to His breast.”
Chuck Swindoll commented on this in his book Laugh Again: “The pressure on you may be intense. A half-dozen joy stealers may be waiting outside your door, ready to pounce at the first opportunity. However, nothing can rob you of your hold on grace, your claim to peace, or your confidence in God without your permission. Choose joy. Never release your grip!”
I encourage you today. Hold onto to the joy God planted in your heart the day you gave your life to Him. Heartache, grief, and pressure may be bearing down on you so hard you feel you can hardly take a breath. Don’t let the pressure separate you from Christ, but instead drive you closer to Him. Jesus has experienced this kind of pain. But He chose to look beyond the cross and the rejection of man, to the joyous victory of the resurrection. And because He conquered death, we can dance.
Dearest Father, there are days when I don’t feel very much like dancing. The pain of this world crushes and perplexes me. In times like this draw me close to you. Don’t let me lose my grip on joy. I will trust in you. Amen.
~ Beth Vice, 2010
Give in to the Joy, from Peace Within Your Borders
The following devotional is from my newly revised Peace Within Your Borders - a devotional for homeschooling moms. The theme for July is Living in Joy.
My mom is one of two girls. I am one of three girls, and I had two girls of my own. So horseplay has never been a big part of my life. We wrestled and teased more with puns than with a headlock when I was growing up. My daughters parry more often with tickling and practical jokes. However, I do know what it means when someone says, “Do you give? Say uncle!”
In a recent message from Pastor Rob Baker and he challenged us to, “Give in to the Joy.” It was exactly what I needed to hear and has become my new theme. You see, I’ve been a Christian for a long time and I know I have the fruit of joy in me, but so many times I refuse to give in to it. I circle around the negatives of the situation instead of rejoicing in God.
Some other ways to express this thought might be: admit defeat, buckle under, capitulate, cave in, comply, concede, relinquish, resign, submit, surrender, throw in the towel, or yield. Need I say more? Do you give?
The author of Psalm forty-two was depressed. He poured out his pain (which is the first step of healing). God felt far away, others had mocked his faith, he was out of fellowship, and he was suffering physically. In psalm forty-three he continues his tale of woe. Three times in these chapters he repeats the lines of Psalm 42:5, encouraging himself with memories of what God has done for him.
Instead of sitting down for a pity party and inviting us to join him, he said, “Self, don’t be so upset. There’s hope for you yet. You’re going to praise God in the end. Just wait and see. I’m going to remember God’s character and all the good stuff He has done. I will praise Him again. I choose to give in to the joy!”
He lay his case before the Lord. Instead of making heartache his focus, this psalmist cast all his cares on the Lord then chose to praise and wait in hope. God had been faithful before and He would be again. The psalmist’s love for God, his trust and joy in Him were stronger than his misery. He gave in to the joy.
I challenge you as Pastor Rob challenged us. Give in to the joy God has for you. Pour out your heart to Him and leave the pain at His throne. Be honest in His presence; remember what He has done for you in the past. And say ‘Uncle.’ We are happy losers when we surrender to Joy.
Dear Lord, I submit to you. I want to be a person of joy – to let you reign in my heart. Put Joy in the ring to take me down until I give in to its power. This is one fight that I want to lose every time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
~ Beth Vice, 2010
Give In to the Joy
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.
Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.
My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you.
Psalm 42:5
My mom is one of two girls. I am one of three girls, and I had two girls of my own. So horseplay has never been a big part of my life. We wrestled and teased more with puns than with a headlock when I was growing up. My daughters parry more often with tickling and practical jokes. However, I do know what it means when someone says, “Do you give? Say uncle!”
In a recent message from Pastor Rob Baker and he challenged us to, “Give in to the Joy.” It was exactly what I needed to hear and has become my new theme. You see, I’ve been a Christian for a long time and I know I have the fruit of joy in me, but so many times I refuse to give in to it. I circle around the negatives of the situation instead of rejoicing in God.
Some other ways to express this thought might be: admit defeat, buckle under, capitulate, cave in, comply, concede, relinquish, resign, submit, surrender, throw in the towel, or yield. Need I say more? Do you give?
The author of Psalm forty-two was depressed. He poured out his pain (which is the first step of healing). God felt far away, others had mocked his faith, he was out of fellowship, and he was suffering physically. In psalm forty-three he continues his tale of woe. Three times in these chapters he repeats the lines of Psalm 42:5, encouraging himself with memories of what God has done for him.
Instead of sitting down for a pity party and inviting us to join him, he said, “Self, don’t be so upset. There’s hope for you yet. You’re going to praise God in the end. Just wait and see. I’m going to remember God’s character and all the good stuff He has done. I will praise Him again. I choose to give in to the joy!”
He lay his case before the Lord. Instead of making heartache his focus, this psalmist cast all his cares on the Lord then chose to praise and wait in hope. God had been faithful before and He would be again. The psalmist’s love for God, his trust and joy in Him were stronger than his misery. He gave in to the joy.
I challenge you as Pastor Rob challenged us. Give in to the joy God has for you. Pour out your heart to Him and leave the pain at His throne. Be honest in His presence; remember what He has done for you in the past. And say ‘Uncle.’ We are happy losers when we surrender to Joy.
Dear Lord, I submit to you. I want to be a person of joy – to let you reign in my heart. Put Joy in the ring to take me down until I give in to its power. This is one fight that I want to lose every time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
~ Beth Vice, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Hi Guests: Grown Children
My daughter left a couple notes at their house for us when my husband and I stayed there recently. They were out of town but she made us feel so welcome.
I brought home one note and kept it on the kitchen counter for weeks, laughing at myself for treasuring it so. It said,
“Hi Guests! :) Hope you enjoy your stay. Eat anything you want. Love you!”
I kept thinking how silly I was to cherish it; I should throw it out. Why did it mean so much to me anyway? But I think I’ve figured it out.
That short note represents a job well done. We have come to a turning point in our relationship – from mother and child at home; to a grown daughter visiting as a guest in my home. And now the next step: we are guests in their home. The phrases I have always used, “Eat anything/use anything you want” now echo back to me in an open-hearted welcome from her.
Looking around at their pictures and décor while we were there, I got a strong sense of who they are as a couple and my heart swelled. I am proud that they have a place of their own and are making their way in the world. Their love for each other is evident; it echoes in every room, from the blending of their personal treasures, to notes and reminders on the refrigerator.
That is what I raised my daughter for, to be grown up. And while I miss her and hunger for more details about her life, I wouldn’t want to pull her back into childhood. This is good and right.
When she calls me just to connect I feel privileged and warmed. I love hearing about everything – her thoughts, feelings, goals, excitement, and concerns. And she is starting to show interest in mine as well - a true sign that she is indeed an adult.
Call me sentimental, but I think I’ll keep this note from my daughter the hostess in my journal, along with other treasures of my heart. It is a rite of passage that I cannot help but tuck away for safekeeping.
Beth Vice, February 2010
I brought home one note and kept it on the kitchen counter for weeks, laughing at myself for treasuring it so. It said,
“Hi Guests! :) Hope you enjoy your stay. Eat anything you want. Love you!”
I kept thinking how silly I was to cherish it; I should throw it out. Why did it mean so much to me anyway? But I think I’ve figured it out.
That short note represents a job well done. We have come to a turning point in our relationship – from mother and child at home; to a grown daughter visiting as a guest in my home. And now the next step: we are guests in their home. The phrases I have always used, “Eat anything/use anything you want” now echo back to me in an open-hearted welcome from her.
Looking around at their pictures and décor while we were there, I got a strong sense of who they are as a couple and my heart swelled. I am proud that they have a place of their own and are making their way in the world. Their love for each other is evident; it echoes in every room, from the blending of their personal treasures, to notes and reminders on the refrigerator.
That is what I raised my daughter for, to be grown up. And while I miss her and hunger for more details about her life, I wouldn’t want to pull her back into childhood. This is good and right.
When she calls me just to connect I feel privileged and warmed. I love hearing about everything – her thoughts, feelings, goals, excitement, and concerns. And she is starting to show interest in mine as well - a true sign that she is indeed an adult.
Call me sentimental, but I think I’ll keep this note from my daughter the hostess in my journal, along with other treasures of my heart. It is a rite of passage that I cannot help but tuck away for safekeeping.
Beth Vice, February 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Feeling Beautiful: Self-esteem
I call them my “fat ugly” days. My hair looks awful, my clothes don't fit, or I just feel sludgy and desperately want someone – my husband, children, or friends, to reassure me that I am beautiful and lovable even though I don’t feel like it. My friend Rhoda, a homeschooling mom with four kids, was having one of those days. When she made disparaging comments about herself and how ugly she felt, her husband didn’t take the hint. He didn’t encourage her with the sweet compliments she had hoped for. And that made her angry. Why couldn’t he see she needed reassurance?
Later, she confided that the surlier she became, the less likely it was that he would want to shower her with tender affection. What she needed was an escape to the spa. With her kids and husband otherwise occupied, Rhoda retired to the bathroom where she put on soft music, lit candles, and took a long bath. She scrubbed every inch of her body with a loofa sponge and deep conditioned her hair. Energized by that, she painted her nails, applied makeup, and styled her hair. To top it off, she dressed in an outfit that made her feel pretty.
As she cared for her body, Rhoda also refreshed her spirit in the Lord. She reminded herself that even when she feels frumpy she is still beautiful and valuable to her Savior. She knew that truth all along, but the fog of emotions and weariness of motherhood had hidden it from her sight.
Two hours later, she felt like a new woman. “After my bath, I went out and gave my husband a big hug and kiss. He looked up at me and his eyes popped.”
“Wow, you’re hot, Babe!” he said with appreciation.
“Yes, I am,” she thought with a smile. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” Even if he had not noticed the change in her, Rhoda knew she had that assurance deep within.
By the time she got to our meeting that night, Rhoda was able to share what she had discovered with us. It’s something every woman needs to know. “I realized it’s not my husband’s responsibility to make me feel beautiful; it’s mine. It’s my job to take care of myself, stay connected with God, and do the things that make me feel pretty. When I do, I can be confident in myself and have more energy to reach out to others.” Then she smiled mysteriously. People often remark about the ethereal look on Mona Lisa’s face. Maybe she had learned the same beauty secret as my friend. True beauty comes from inside.
~ (c) Beth Vice, January 2010
Later, she confided that the surlier she became, the less likely it was that he would want to shower her with tender affection. What she needed was an escape to the spa. With her kids and husband otherwise occupied, Rhoda retired to the bathroom where she put on soft music, lit candles, and took a long bath. She scrubbed every inch of her body with a loofa sponge and deep conditioned her hair. Energized by that, she painted her nails, applied makeup, and styled her hair. To top it off, she dressed in an outfit that made her feel pretty.
As she cared for her body, Rhoda also refreshed her spirit in the Lord. She reminded herself that even when she feels frumpy she is still beautiful and valuable to her Savior. She knew that truth all along, but the fog of emotions and weariness of motherhood had hidden it from her sight.
Two hours later, she felt like a new woman. “After my bath, I went out and gave my husband a big hug and kiss. He looked up at me and his eyes popped.”
“Wow, you’re hot, Babe!” he said with appreciation.
“Yes, I am,” she thought with a smile. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” Even if he had not noticed the change in her, Rhoda knew she had that assurance deep within.
By the time she got to our meeting that night, Rhoda was able to share what she had discovered with us. It’s something every woman needs to know. “I realized it’s not my husband’s responsibility to make me feel beautiful; it’s mine. It’s my job to take care of myself, stay connected with God, and do the things that make me feel pretty. When I do, I can be confident in myself and have more energy to reach out to others.” Then she smiled mysteriously. People often remark about the ethereal look on Mona Lisa’s face. Maybe she had learned the same beauty secret as my friend. True beauty comes from inside.
~ (c) Beth Vice, January 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Update on Listlessness: Grace is not earned
For all you list makers out there, you understand how hard it has been for me to refrain from making a daily to do list for two whole months (see "Incredible Days of Listlessness"). God is using the fast I took throughout November and December to teach me some amazing truths.
It was unsettling at first, but also freeing to not have a list to refer to throughout the day. I actually waited for God to give me directions. It was an intense kind of listening I normally do when I am in the Word or in prayer. But now I was seeking God in the middle of the living room, or the car, or the bathroom! I began looking to God for His go ahead even about seemingly mundane details. And there were moments when I could feel His presence nearer than my skin.
At the end of the days I truly followed God's agenda instead of mine, I went to bed without regrets, fully satisfied. There were still the things I had wanted to get done and didn't, even some that seemed rather urgent to me. In all, though, there was a deep sense of trust that God had it all under control. That didn't happen every day though, especially when Christmas drew near and all our children were coming to stay or visit.
As for my tendency to try and earn God's approval, I actually felt more connected to Him than ever before. Even on the days I thought I hadn't accomplished much. I wanted to please Him even the way I rested. I pictured myself as His little handmaiden waiting for His nod to take action, fighting the urge to "look busy" while I waited.
However I have to admit I'm still in process. As soon as the fast was over it was a temptation to go right back to my old ways. I have to remind myself daily to practice what I learned and not let it slip away.
This is what my days of listlessness impressed on me:
* People are the most important part of any day. They are not items to cross off as "done" but fragile and beautiful souls who were created, like me, for relationships.
* Everything worth doing takes time. It may not go smoothly and will most likely be interrupted more than once. I need to expect that as normal. And if it does go well, don't squeeze in 3 extra jobs with the time I saved.
* Even if I only get one thing done each day that God wanted me to do, I have done well. If I get 10 things done that were not of God, I have accomplished nothing.
* People may praise me for living at a frenetic pace, but God intends me to live a life of peace and purpose. He will keep me busy, but not frazzled.
* It's okay to have fun! Where did I get the idea that fun is never on the list unless it's vacation or a holiday? As pastor Rob Baker says, "Give in to the joy!"
* What important to God is sometimes hard to evaluate. Errands, housework, appointments and projects are measurable. How can you calculate the worth of listening, writing encouragement notes, or fighting unseen forces in prayer?
* God seldom tells me what He's up to. He may urge me to go, or speak, or give, or be still without telling me why. He loves it when I trust Him and participate in His work.
* It takes courage to let God lead. I can either fight Him for control, or accept the freedom of being His follower.
So that's my story. This is a continuing saga and a huge learning curve for me. I think of all the things we cling to in this world for comfort, security, or our sense of identity and value: coffee, the daily news, Facebook, chocolate, texting, movies and TV, shopping and so much more. What would happen if you fasted from one of these and depended completely on God to meet that need? If you take the leap of faith He won't let you down. I can't wait to hear your story!
~ (c) Beth Vice, January 2010
It was unsettling at first, but also freeing to not have a list to refer to throughout the day. I actually waited for God to give me directions. It was an intense kind of listening I normally do when I am in the Word or in prayer. But now I was seeking God in the middle of the living room, or the car, or the bathroom! I began looking to God for His go ahead even about seemingly mundane details. And there were moments when I could feel His presence nearer than my skin.
At the end of the days I truly followed God's agenda instead of mine, I went to bed without regrets, fully satisfied. There were still the things I had wanted to get done and didn't, even some that seemed rather urgent to me. In all, though, there was a deep sense of trust that God had it all under control. That didn't happen every day though, especially when Christmas drew near and all our children were coming to stay or visit.
As for my tendency to try and earn God's approval, I actually felt more connected to Him than ever before. Even on the days I thought I hadn't accomplished much. I wanted to please Him even the way I rested. I pictured myself as His little handmaiden waiting for His nod to take action, fighting the urge to "look busy" while I waited.
However I have to admit I'm still in process. As soon as the fast was over it was a temptation to go right back to my old ways. I have to remind myself daily to practice what I learned and not let it slip away.
This is what my days of listlessness impressed on me:
* People are the most important part of any day. They are not items to cross off as "done" but fragile and beautiful souls who were created, like me, for relationships.
* Everything worth doing takes time. It may not go smoothly and will most likely be interrupted more than once. I need to expect that as normal. And if it does go well, don't squeeze in 3 extra jobs with the time I saved.
* Even if I only get one thing done each day that God wanted me to do, I have done well. If I get 10 things done that were not of God, I have accomplished nothing.
* People may praise me for living at a frenetic pace, but God intends me to live a life of peace and purpose. He will keep me busy, but not frazzled.
* It's okay to have fun! Where did I get the idea that fun is never on the list unless it's vacation or a holiday? As pastor Rob Baker says, "Give in to the joy!"
* What important to God is sometimes hard to evaluate. Errands, housework, appointments and projects are measurable. How can you calculate the worth of listening, writing encouragement notes, or fighting unseen forces in prayer?
* God seldom tells me what He's up to. He may urge me to go, or speak, or give, or be still without telling me why. He loves it when I trust Him and participate in His work.
* It takes courage to let God lead. I can either fight Him for control, or accept the freedom of being His follower.
So that's my story. This is a continuing saga and a huge learning curve for me. I think of all the things we cling to in this world for comfort, security, or our sense of identity and value: coffee, the daily news, Facebook, chocolate, texting, movies and TV, shopping and so much more. What would happen if you fasted from one of these and depended completely on God to meet that need? If you take the leap of faith He won't let you down. I can't wait to hear your story!
~ (c) Beth Vice, January 2010
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Incredible Days of Listlessness: Living without a list
When you read this title did you picture yourself lying by the pool with a Strawberry Daiquiri in your hands? That would be nice too, but the kind of listlessness I’m talking about is days without making a list. God has called me to fast from list making for the next two months – through the holiday season no less – and I am both excited and terrified.
What began as a release from a spiritual stronghold in my life has become a challenge from the Lord. One that I anticipate will bring me to a new place of freedom and growth. But, as is true with all freedom, it will take a battle to get there.
God has recently revealed to me that Satan had a stronghold on my life through the avenue of fear: fear of real or perceived rejection. I had to ask for God's forgiveness for allowing this to have a hold on me. Then I began arming myself with scripture to combat future attacks in this area. That’s when God surprised me.
“I want you to fast from making a daily to do list,” He spoke to my heart.
Having just spent two “listless” days in the aftermath of completing a book, I knew that this might be a good thing to do for another day or so. “Okay God, how long?” I asked.
“For the rest of this month and through November and December.”
I blinked. I had already made my list for the day and I was willing to let it go. But two months? “Lord, you realize that’s through the holidays, don’t you? What if I forget something vital? How will I get everything done?”
I could feel His benevolent smile, “Do you trust me to lead you? Will you look to me instead of your list?” The only concession He made was that I could jot down appointment reminders and a list of what I am purchasing for Christmas and birthdays (perhaps so I don’t have to go on a two month fast from overspending in the New Year).
God showed me the connection between my daily list and the stronghold of fear of rejection. From my teenage days on I have planned every detail of my days in order to prove that I am worthy. I believed what I accomplished was evidence that I had value, because I was doing things and crossing them off. I realized I was trying to earn the approval of God, others, and myself. When I was rejected by the one I loved more than anyone, the need for a list became even more pronounced in my life. I even wrote things down after doing them so I could cross them off my list and feel good about myself.
At first the idea of going for two months without a list filled me with raw fear. In fact, I first coined this article “The Terrifying Days of Listlessness” until God reminded me that in Him there is no fear. Now, I am beginning to look forward to the incredible things He is going to do in my life during these next two months.
No longer will I make my list for the day and show it to God asking for His stamp of approval. Instead of constantly referring to it throughout the day to tell me what to do, I will be looking to my Father and asking Him. My self worth will not come from what I do and how many items I have crossed off, but from God’s Word and His assurance of unfailing love for me. Neither will there be the circled items to testify against me at the end of the day that I didn't "earn my keep." No piece of paper saying that I have failed and must do more to be worthy of love. And when someone calls I won’t hurry through our conversation like it is an “interruption” to my day. I can relax and go with the flow, knowing that people are always first in God’s agenda.
God is calling me to be free of the tyranny of the ought’s and should’s, the if-only’s and what-if’s. He is inviting me to rest in His presence and simply be. This is not to say I won’t be doing all the things I normally do. The difference is, I hope to be doing them at my Lord’s direction, simply for the joy of serving Him and others, and not to impress or “buy” approval from anyone.
This will definitely be an adventure. I’ll try to keep you posted and if I forget, ask me how it’s going. I would love to hear from you too. Where do you get your sense of self-worth? What is your weak area and how do you combat the lies of the enemy when he comes to steal, kill, and destroy the truth of God’s love for you?
~ (c) Beth Vice, January 2010
What began as a release from a spiritual stronghold in my life has become a challenge from the Lord. One that I anticipate will bring me to a new place of freedom and growth. But, as is true with all freedom, it will take a battle to get there.
God has recently revealed to me that Satan had a stronghold on my life through the avenue of fear: fear of real or perceived rejection. I had to ask for God's forgiveness for allowing this to have a hold on me. Then I began arming myself with scripture to combat future attacks in this area. That’s when God surprised me.
“I want you to fast from making a daily to do list,” He spoke to my heart.
Having just spent two “listless” days in the aftermath of completing a book, I knew that this might be a good thing to do for another day or so. “Okay God, how long?” I asked.
“For the rest of this month and through November and December.”
I blinked. I had already made my list for the day and I was willing to let it go. But two months? “Lord, you realize that’s through the holidays, don’t you? What if I forget something vital? How will I get everything done?”
I could feel His benevolent smile, “Do you trust me to lead you? Will you look to me instead of your list?” The only concession He made was that I could jot down appointment reminders and a list of what I am purchasing for Christmas and birthdays (perhaps so I don’t have to go on a two month fast from overspending in the New Year).
God showed me the connection between my daily list and the stronghold of fear of rejection. From my teenage days on I have planned every detail of my days in order to prove that I am worthy. I believed what I accomplished was evidence that I had value, because I was doing things and crossing them off. I realized I was trying to earn the approval of God, others, and myself. When I was rejected by the one I loved more than anyone, the need for a list became even more pronounced in my life. I even wrote things down after doing them so I could cross them off my list and feel good about myself.
At first the idea of going for two months without a list filled me with raw fear. In fact, I first coined this article “The Terrifying Days of Listlessness” until God reminded me that in Him there is no fear. Now, I am beginning to look forward to the incredible things He is going to do in my life during these next two months.
No longer will I make my list for the day and show it to God asking for His stamp of approval. Instead of constantly referring to it throughout the day to tell me what to do, I will be looking to my Father and asking Him. My self worth will not come from what I do and how many items I have crossed off, but from God’s Word and His assurance of unfailing love for me. Neither will there be the circled items to testify against me at the end of the day that I didn't "earn my keep." No piece of paper saying that I have failed and must do more to be worthy of love. And when someone calls I won’t hurry through our conversation like it is an “interruption” to my day. I can relax and go with the flow, knowing that people are always first in God’s agenda.
God is calling me to be free of the tyranny of the ought’s and should’s, the if-only’s and what-if’s. He is inviting me to rest in His presence and simply be. This is not to say I won’t be doing all the things I normally do. The difference is, I hope to be doing them at my Lord’s direction, simply for the joy of serving Him and others, and not to impress or “buy” approval from anyone.
This will definitely be an adventure. I’ll try to keep you posted and if I forget, ask me how it’s going. I would love to hear from you too. Where do you get your sense of self-worth? What is your weak area and how do you combat the lies of the enemy when he comes to steal, kill, and destroy the truth of God’s love for you?
~ (c) Beth Vice, January 2010
Thursday, October 22, 2009
What I'm Learning About Letting Go: Giving children to God
My husband and I froze in terror as the conversation with our eighteen year old daughter turned from a normal discussion into an audio car wreck. We stared at each other with wide-eyed fear listening as screams, squealing tires, and unidentified noises emanated from the speakerphone. My husband kept our daughter talking until the driver came to a stop and the kids had calmed down enough to inspect the damage. The phone was our only link; we weren’t willing to let that go.
What a helpless feeling! The minute they’re born, our children begin the process of autonomy and range further from our reach. We raise them to be independent, but wish we could protect them from all harm. The hardest part of parenting is realizing that ultimately, we cannot save them from accidents, illness, the hurts others inflict on them, or the consequences of their sinful choices.
Seeing the movie Taken shook me. In it, two recent high school graduates travel to Europe where gangsters who drug and sell young women into prostitution, kidnap a young girl and her friend. During the capture, her father listens helplessly on his cell phone. As a former government spy, he has access to equipment and know how, plus the physical strength needed to rescue his daughter. However, I don’t have any of that at my fingertips. Or do I?
My most fearful yet faith-building parenting moments were when my oldest daughter traveled a total of 16 months with a mission organization. She lived in primitive filth in Samoa; thieves in Africa stole her ATM card and money; and she spent Christmas sick, poor, and alone in Rome.
Anxiety about her situation gripped me night and day. I wanted to go to my child, but was unable to help her. So I reached out to the only One who could. God answered my prayers. He sent caring people to help her and gave her the courage she needed to make it. God also gave me the kind of peace only He can give. I knew no matter what happened, He would be there for her.
Why does God allow us to feel so helpless? So we’ll learn to depend completely on Him. When we realize we can’t do anything to control the situation anyway, we run to Him more readily. There are only three things I know I can control:
* I can dedicate my children to God, acknowledging they are ultimately His. He gave them to me and He has a plan for their lives.
* I can point them to God. I can tell them, and show them by the way I live, that God and His Word are the answer for every dilemma they face.
* I can entrust them to God, releasing them in prayer for Him to direct, rebuke, heal, or comfort according to His will. God loves them even more than I do and is always working for their ultimate good.
I wish this shielded them from experiencing pain. Yet sometimes, pain is a necessary element to help my children see when they’re headed the wrong way. I have to let go of the illusion that I can make them choose to do the right thing, or even the smart thing. I have to let go when their behavior is unwise, or rebellious, or impatient. I have to let them grow and mature and succeed in their own time, in their own way.
The blessing is that even though I must let go of my children as they grow up, God never does. His angels can surround them with peace, protection, and guidance. His Holy Spirit can speak to their minds and hearts to bring forth miraculous transformation and blessings. And the Father’s arms can usher them forward, pull them back, or hold them close no matter where they are.
~ (c) Beth Vice 2009
What a helpless feeling! The minute they’re born, our children begin the process of autonomy and range further from our reach. We raise them to be independent, but wish we could protect them from all harm. The hardest part of parenting is realizing that ultimately, we cannot save them from accidents, illness, the hurts others inflict on them, or the consequences of their sinful choices.
Seeing the movie Taken shook me. In it, two recent high school graduates travel to Europe where gangsters who drug and sell young women into prostitution, kidnap a young girl and her friend. During the capture, her father listens helplessly on his cell phone. As a former government spy, he has access to equipment and know how, plus the physical strength needed to rescue his daughter. However, I don’t have any of that at my fingertips. Or do I?
My most fearful yet faith-building parenting moments were when my oldest daughter traveled a total of 16 months with a mission organization. She lived in primitive filth in Samoa; thieves in Africa stole her ATM card and money; and she spent Christmas sick, poor, and alone in Rome.
Anxiety about her situation gripped me night and day. I wanted to go to my child, but was unable to help her. So I reached out to the only One who could. God answered my prayers. He sent caring people to help her and gave her the courage she needed to make it. God also gave me the kind of peace only He can give. I knew no matter what happened, He would be there for her.
Why does God allow us to feel so helpless? So we’ll learn to depend completely on Him. When we realize we can’t do anything to control the situation anyway, we run to Him more readily. There are only three things I know I can control:
* I can dedicate my children to God, acknowledging they are ultimately His. He gave them to me and He has a plan for their lives.
* I can point them to God. I can tell them, and show them by the way I live, that God and His Word are the answer for every dilemma they face.
* I can entrust them to God, releasing them in prayer for Him to direct, rebuke, heal, or comfort according to His will. God loves them even more than I do and is always working for their ultimate good.
I wish this shielded them from experiencing pain. Yet sometimes, pain is a necessary element to help my children see when they’re headed the wrong way. I have to let go of the illusion that I can make them choose to do the right thing, or even the smart thing. I have to let go when their behavior is unwise, or rebellious, or impatient. I have to let them grow and mature and succeed in their own time, in their own way.
The blessing is that even though I must let go of my children as they grow up, God never does. His angels can surround them with peace, protection, and guidance. His Holy Spirit can speak to their minds and hearts to bring forth miraculous transformation and blessings. And the Father’s arms can usher them forward, pull them back, or hold them close no matter where they are.
~ (c) Beth Vice 2009
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