Working at It

Posted on February 29, 2012 by Margaret

There’s nothing like young children to make sure their parents and grandparents are accountable to the truth. When we read them a story and try to shorten it by skipping a few words, they interrupt and point out we missed a line. If we promise to play hide-and-seek as soon as nap time is over, they don’t forget. And when we say we love them, they’re watching continually for a demonstration of that.

These dynamics are probably part of God’s teaching of parents and grandparents, this accountability-to-children factor. It becomes ongoing motivation for us to practice living responsibly. An added dimension of this is that God wants us to act with similar accountability toward him. Interestingly, sometimes he prompts it exactly as children do.

“You haven’t told the whole truth,” he tells us, “so your lie-of-omission will come back to bite you.” This echoes a preschooler’s comment, “You skipped a line of the story.”

Or God might say, “Didn’t you promise to talk to me at the beginning of each day?” When we promise, we should follow through… like we do with that hide-and-seek game after naps.

And just like little ones watch for our loving behavior toward them, God longs for that from us, in response to him.

Young children seem to love their parents no matter what. They generously give them the benefit of every doubt, even when parental behavior is neutral toward them or, amazingly, even when it’s abusive. Some of it might be need-based since they have no one else to turn to, but there’s also a component of brightly-burning hope that refuses to be snuffed out by contrary circumstances.

These two relational pieces, loving no matter what and brightly-burning hope, are also present in our bond with the Lord. When our behavior isn’t loving toward him or even borders on abusive, his response is still, “I’ll love you no matter what.” Additionally he sets up unnumbered opportunities for us to demonstrate our love to him, having a brightly-burning hope that our actions will reinforce our words.

God consistently uses earthly parenthood as a biblical image of his relationship with us, attempting to eliminate some of our confusion about him. He encourages us to call him “Father” and expects human dads to be ongoing models in relating to their children of how he treats them.

But God knows that’s a tall order. Just stretching toward it is all any parent needs to do to bring delight to the Lord. Although we ought to read the whole storybook, play that post-nap game, and act consistently in love, we can’t always do it.

When that happens, God understands. But he also hopes we’ll keep on trying.

“Your love has meant hard work, and the hope that you have in our Lord Jesus Christ means sheer dogged endurance in the life that you live before God, the Father of us all.” (1 Thessalonians 1:3)

Occupying Center Stage

Posted on February 27, 2012 by Margaret

Family-friendly expert James Dobson says that when a new baby arrives, the youngsters already in the home have an interesting perspective. What they see and hear is the equivalent of daddy telling mommy, “Honey, I’ve got good news. I’m bringing home another wife to join our family. She’ll be just as important as you are, and I’ll love her just as much as I love you. She’ll be part of every family gathering and will sleep with us, too. We’ll have to treat her with extra kindness until she gets comfortable being here. You’ll just love her.”

Understanding this perspective, which is common in older siblings, gives us a clear picture of what’s just ahead for my daughter and son-in-law, who introduced a new baby one week ago. At the moment, everything is sunshine and light. Skylar, age 3, and Micah, 2, are still in a period of adjustment we used to call “the honeymoon stage” with the new baby still in the category of a new toy. “Can I hold the baby, Mommy?” is still being answered with, “Sure,” and cameras are still recording each episode. We’re praising their gentleness and finding it easy to continue the introductory litany:

“What a sweet big sister you are, Skylar. You’ll be a wonderful teacher for Autumn. She can’t do this… that… or the other… and you can.”

“Baby has no teeth, Micah. Do you have teeth? Wow! You can chew strawberries and beans, but baby can’t. What a big boy you are!”

Linnea and Adam know all about what’s upcoming and how to handle it, but that doesn’t make it easy. I’ve been impressed with their parenting and know they’ll persist in not allowing children #1 and #2 to occupy center-stage the way they’ll both want to.

Scripture gives a good deal of parental advice on this very point, stressing the importance of not permitting children to rule the roost. But it isn’t just a problem with kids. We adults like to occupy center-stage once in a while too, wanting increased attention from a husband, a parent, a friend or even God. We hate to wait our turn and often have difficulty sharing. We especially struggle with this when God is the one insisting on it:

“Why can’t I have positive answers to my prayers and have them immediately? And why do I have to serve in this… that… or the other capacity once again? Why can’t someone else do it this time?”

But when we begin thinking like this, we start sliding backwards spiritually. Living the Christian life is all about surrendering. Our calendars, the hours of our days, our energy and, much to our dismay, center-stage. But just as Skylar and Micah have to adjust to baby Autumn, the rest of us have to adjust to God’s way of doing things, especially if we want peace in the family.

“Be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” (Romans 12:2a)

The Right Thing to Do

Posted on February 23, 2012 by Margaret

Before I traveled to Florida, I was happily navigating through Walmart in search of stickers for my grandchildren. Pushing through the women’s clothing section to get to the party aisle, I was thinking of my 5 little ones and especially of baby number 6 (who now has a name and face) when suddenly, out of nowhere, my own mother’s voice rang out in my head. “Margaret, shame on you. Pick that up.”

I’d just wheeled my cart around a grey fleece hoodie lying on the Walmart floor. Mom’s reprimand prompted a memory of decades before when I was a self-centered 15 year old. She and I were often at odds during those days, but we found ourselves on a shopping trip together at Wieboldt’s department store, searching for an outfit I needed but didn’t want.

Wandering amongst the circular racks of clothes, we came to a dress lying on the floor. Without breaking stride, Mom bent over, picked it up and hung it back on the rack. My inappropriate thought was, “They pay people to do that.” But I kept it to myself, to escape a lecture.

Despite my self-absorbed mindset, Mom’s good deed left a mark that lasted 50 years. She hadn’t picked up the dress to teach me a lesson or earn credit with me or anybody else. She did it because she knew someone had to do it, and her thought was it might as well be her. She could help, so she did. It was the right thing to do.

Knowing the right thing to do and doing it, not for credit, not to impress, and not in response to being told to do it, is a good way to live. I would imagine it’s very satisfying. Some people go through life trying to do as little as possible, working to tweak every set of circumstances to their advantage. Others not only live to be helpful, but it doesn’t even cross their minds to step over the clothing.

What is God’s view? Although he’s always overseeing the events on earth, his eyes scanning the crowds, I think he’s watching us especially carefully when we’re alone. How do we act when no one’s looking? Do we cut corners? Stretch the truth? Eat/drink/watch what we shouldn’t? Waste time/money? Do the bare minimum? Maneuver the shopping cart around the garment on the floor?

If we pictured a literal Jesus at our elbow, joining in on whatever we were doing, would we act differently? No doubt.