We arrive at the library…ah, my place of refuge—my safe haven. I scan the rows of books, smiling. Quickly my three young girls remind me of their presence. They tug on my jacket until I lead them beyond the heavenly realm into the not so heavenly children’s section. I agree they all can pick out five books. I help the littlest one with her books. So far—a good visit. If all goes well I might get a chance to browse the new fiction books.
We head directly there. I’m on a mission. I breathe in the new titles, opening some to read first lines.
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Saturday night was rough. I held hair back. I washed sheets. I listened as my daughter told me she hopes she gives me the flu. Yes, she said those words.
“I hope I give this to you.”
I laughed at the time, but wasn’t laughing so hard the next day when I doubled over with stomach pains. The whole experience reminds me of what I once heard a pastor share. He explained how Jesus coming to earth was in some ways the equivalent of a parent caring for a sick child. *Excuse the graphic example, but trust me I have a point.
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“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 7
This morning I asked myself if I’m living out this verse by modeling it for my children. I hope to make a more concerted effort to show them I’m living with a spirit of courage, power, love and self-discipline. If I trace back through an ordinary day I can think of dozens of times I allow complaints to slip from my lips. From the moment my feet hit the floor in the morning to throwing vegetables on the stove for dinner, I find little things that needle me and I freely express my irritation.
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My youngest child watched as her older sister’s bus pulled away. Her eyes could not be averted. As I watched the interaction it was as if I could see her little brain cogs turning. I imagined my youngest girl longing to grow up, longing to be riding away on the bus like her sister. I’m not sure if she felt that at all, but I know I did. I grew up the youngest of four girls.
Every game I played I seemed to find ways to emulate what life might be like when I got older. I wrote in my mom’s old checkbook.
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I’m visiting my parents in Florida. My dad has been battling high blood pressure as well as a slew of other ailments. He owns his own blood pressure monitor. As I watch him check the numbers frequently I’m reminded of a particular verse.
“May he strengthen your hearts so that you will be blameless and holy in the presence of God and Father when our Lord Jesus comes with all his holy ones.” 1 Thessalonians 3:13
Our hearts are weak vessels. Finicky, and in need of strengthening. This verse captures my hope and prayer for my children. I want them to lean into God’s strengthening.
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On the heels of Halloween and as we head into the holiday season, I found verses that made me think more about the word fear. I used to loathe the idea of fearing God. I know the Bible mentions doing that, but the mere thought made me think that I had a God that could not be trusted, that he’d whip out his rod iron ready to whip me into spiritual shape at any given moment. This has been far from true of the God I know. I’ve grown to understand the word fear to mean respect/stand in awe of God, as opposed to be afraid of/frightened by God.
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I received a call from a close friend today that changed the entire direction of my day. Her words were the rudder in my schedule, veering me full throttle into a new and exciting project. She felt an irresistible urge to reach out to the homeless as the weather dives down, degree by degree into frigid temperatures at night. As she sprung the idea on me, I surged into brainstorming mode. My background in marketing reared its head and seeped into my every suggestion. I had it in mind to reach the most amounts of people possible, so we could have a huge impact on the lives of the homeless.
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Are you a numbers person? Do you favor odds over evens or evens over odds? I favor evens. I have no idea why. Numbers have never really been my thing, but words, however, have always been able to hold my attention. When it comes down to it though, numbers are mentioned several times in the following verses and I don’t think they are entirely the point. It’s not about numbers. It’s about one word: Forgiveness.
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times…” Matthew 18:22
I’m a believer that we work out forgiveness with God, in the same way we work out our sanctification.
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