For a planner like me, someone who really likes to know the next step, this is a truth I’ve had to learn to trust in. But His plan is ALWAYS better than mine. And there’s a peace in the not knowing the whole plan because it allows me to live in the right now. And, to be honest, if I could see the whole plan I’d probably be too overwhelmed to move forward. His plan + my future. #SheReadsTruth
Earlier today a friend of mine since middle school shared a link to a blog. The title caught my eye. Then tears filled them. As a mom, I pray often for my son’s future wife and my daughter’s future husband. But as a mom, I so covet the prayers of others, too. This gave me such a new and powerful perspective on praying for my future family. I loved it so much, that I reached out to Em, the author of this beautiful post and the blog Teach Me to Braid, and asked if I could share with all of you. She graciously said yes!
If you love what you read here, please visit her blog, Teach Me To Braid.
If my child marries yours…
I just want you to know that I’m praying for you.
When I’m awake at night – feeding babies, burping babies, giving tylenol to a feverish toddler, covering up chilly toes, tucking green monkeys under little arms – I think of you. Because chances are, you’re awake too, doing the same sorts of things. Taking care of tiny children that I already love because they will someday hold the hearts that are beating against my chest tonight.
I’m praying that you’ll stand firm against the pressures to overcommit and hyper-schedule, that you’ll shut out the voices that tell you you’re not doing enough, that your kids aren’t doing enough.
I’m praying you’ll have the wisdom to know when to pick that crying baby up out of her crib and when to just sit outside her door, your fingertips pressed to the wood, willing her to feel your love and comfort and just finally fall asleep.
I’m praying that you will take those children to church…that the mothers and fathers of our future grandchildren will grow up knowing what it means to worship, even when that means missing out-of-town basketball tournaments and marathon sleepovers.
I’m praying that your love for and commitment to your spouse will swell with each year you’re together, that you will grow to love the legacy you are creating just as much as you adore the person you’re creating it with.
I’m praying that you take lots of pictures so that I can see where our grandchildren got their sticky-out ears and their mischievous grins.
I’m praying that Jesus will give you just enough strength each day to keep you from losing it but not so much that you forget Who that strength comes from.
I’m praying that we will be friends.
Will you pray those things for me too?
We are in this together, you and I. We are building something beautiful with each onesie folded, each invisible owie kissed, each story read.
You don’t know how much it means to me that you give your children everything you have every single day…even on days when it’s not much at all. Because your child will fall asleep next to mine for fifty-some years. Your child will be the one holding my child’s hand when our first grandchild is born. And when they face the darkest days of their lives, it will be your child and mine, facing into the struggle together.
I’m pretty sure that our longest days – the ones that are brim-full with hair-pulling moments, impossible messes, and toddler meltdowns – those are the days that we are fashioning hearts. And someday, one of the hearts I’m helping create will crash into one of your love-crafted hearts, and what spills out as a result of that jolt…it’s kind of up to us. I promise to tend to these hearts with utmost care, to plant in them humility and peace and selflessness…especially selflessness. I promise to plant Jesus seeds in these hearts every chance I get. And I promise to keep praying for you.
I’m praying that you will hug your boy tight when he’s sad or lonely or scared. Because someday, my girl – all grown beautiful with babies of her own – will be sad or lonely or scared. And he’ll need to know how to hold her. Teach him.
And let your daughters hear you speak righteous words that bring life and hope. Because someday, my sons will be worn and weary, and the words you’re placing in your daughters’ minds today just might become the balm to my sons’ souls.
I’m doing my best to do the same. And sometimes…much of the time…I fail. Pray for me too.
Someday we will sit on opposite sides of the aisle…all fancy and with gobs of tissues tucked into our fists. We’ll watch our silly, sticky, sweet babies somehow transform into brides and grooms and make the same promises to one another that we ourselves have kept…against all odds and only by His grace. And we will watch these children create families of their own with the ingredients we have given them. The ingredients we are slipping into their souls today.
But until then, I’m sitting here in the dark with babies in my arms.
And I’m praying for you.
I’m opinionated. (Shocker, I know.) And I usually don’t have a problem finding the words. Or saying the words I find. It’s a blessing and a curse. But I’m having trouble with words, thoughts, emotions today. But as I read from one of my favs on Facebook, Jamie the Very Worst Missionary, I felt this deep conviction. Almost a sickness about silence. Her words said it best, “To be honest, I still don’t know what to say, but I can’t keep saying nothing while my neighbor is terrorized by hate and violence. I was born white, but not silent.”
And that’s just it. I still don’t know exactly what to say. Or how to say it. But jumbling the words up a bit is better than silence. Praying my heart is seen if my words aren’t perfect, while still speaking, is better than the sin of silence. Because silence, inaction…that’s sin.
By now we’ve all heard about the Charleston, SC church shooting. By now we all know that 9 of the 12 Bible Study attendees are now with Jesus. By now we all know a white man walked into a church BECAUSE the attendees were black and opened fire for the same reason. He is racist and decided to take black lives.
Last night, my heart ached. I cried. This struck me on so many levels. It was in church. A place where people go to seek refuge, seek Jesus. A place that is perceived as safe. It was random…no connection to the people, no motive drawing him to a specific place or person. It was fueled by a hatred that my mind can’t process. I don’t understand hating a person, group of people or race of people to the point of taking lives. I just don’t understand it. My mind can’t wrap around it. I guess that’s good.
Today, I’ve had great pride as voices in the Christian community have stood individually, but united collectively, not trying to gloss this over. Or make it anything less than the heinous crime that it was. And I’ve sat heartbroken as others in the Christian community speak out about “not making this about race”.
Friends, if ever I wanted you to hear me say something this is it. Racism is real and I will no longer be silent as I watch my neighbors (whether in my home town or on the other side of the world) face terrorism for their skin color. I was born white, but I wasn’t born silent.
I have a voice. Maybe my voice doesn’t reach the masses, but it reaches some. And if one person sees racism in a new light, then my voice has made a difference. I will not sit by as my white brothers and sisters try to say that we shouldn’t assume this is about race. I will not sit by as others who say they love Jesus refuse to see the racial divide present in this country and act in a completely contrary way to Christ by sweeping things under the rug.
Racism is real. This is a hate crime. There is a divide between black and white. There is a divide in the church…especially the American church.
There is a fear of addressing racism because we might say something wrong, so nothing is said at all. There is the fear of offending someone, so silence is chosen. But in the silence, the divide grows wider.
I was blessed to be raised in a household that believed we were all created in the image of God. Each and every one of us. I was blessed to be raised in a racially diverse community and attend racially diverse schools. It honestly made me rather naive about racism until I was in my late teens or early twenties. But I’m not naive anymore. I’m heartbroken.
In these words today, in this little blog post, I want to use my voice to say that I see you, Charleston. I see all of you who are victimized daily because of the color of your skin. I won’t tell you I understand, because I don’t. I won’t tell you that I know how you feel, because I can’t. But I see you. I stand with you and I stand behind you. And I will not remain silent. I will not just share a post on Facebook that has words that move me. I will use my voice. Because I was born white, I cannot remain silent.
Today is Easter Saturday. Does it have an official name? I don’t even know. There’s Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. But this in between day…I’ll just call it Easter Saturday (unless one of you well educated folks wants to share it’s official name with me).
In Biblical chronology, yesterday, the day we observe as Good Friday, is the day that Jesus was found guilty of being the King of the Jews. He was beaten, tortured, ridiculed, harassed and nailed to a cross to die a most brutal death. For those who followed him, it must have been the darkest of days. It must have been the most painful of days. Surely his disciples thought it was the end. And his mother. I can’t even. She watched her precious child suffer the cruelest fate and had to lay his broken body in a borrowed tomb. How do mamas face such things?
In that same Biblical chronology, tomorrow, the day we observe as Easter Sunday or Resurrection Sunday, is the day that Jesus did just what he promised: He rose from that borrowed tomb and gave His children the final victory over death, hell and the grave. It’s a day of joyful celebration, a day of remembrance, a day of honor. His disciples were in humble disbelief. His mother overwhelmed at the goodness of God to allow her just a little more time with her precious son.
But what about Saturday? That in between day?
I’m not at all a fan of the in betweens sometimes. The waiting. The knowing that this present trouble has a promise…a day of resurrection…that will redeem it. The in between is hard. It’s uncertain. It can lead to places of questioning the promises that God has made. Most of us don’t have only a 1-day in between. Our in betweens can be days, months, even years.
The time between the awful doctor’s visit and the end of the battle against sickness and disease. The time between the lost job and the new career journey. The time between a child walking away from a life with Christ and returning Him with open arms. That time between losing a precious piece of your heart to death and finally beginning to feel some mending of the broken heart. That time between a shattered dream and restoration of what was lost.
The in betweens are so hard. They are so real. So raw. They are dark. They are lonely…even when you’re not alone in them. The pain can be unbearable and the loss immeasurable. And there you are, in the in between, waiting for your resurrection Sunday. The day that this present trouble is redeemed.
Are you there right now? In an in between? My friend, let me tell you, I’ve been there. Right smack in the middle of an in between. I’ve been there when I felt the presence of God and promise of redemption from the onset. And I’ve been there when I’ve questioned if God even saw me at all. I’ve seen the promise of redemption in fulfilled right here on this Earth with a beautiful story to share. And I’ve come to peace with knowing that on this Earth there won’t be answers, but in light of eternity, all things will be made right. That’s the harder one. But some things will never have an Earthly answer. Just an overwhelming peace the my Father loves me enough to redeem it in eternity.
Friend, if you are sitting there right now, in your Easter Saturday, your in between, look to the cross. LOOK TO THE CROSS. That cross redeemed it all. ALL OF IT! There is no trouble in this earthly life that Jesus did not redeem on that cross. In your darkness, in your in between, cling to that cross. Your darkest day has a day of resurrection that will follow. Your darkest day is why Jesus hung on that cross. He didn’t just hang there to give you direct access to heaven. He hung there to redeem this life and redeem your in betweens.
That tomb? His body walked out, but your sin, your pain, your grief, your struggles found their final resting place. That was all nailed to that cross that day. That was all placed in that tomb that day. But Jesus rose. He redeemed all of it.
Tomorrow, celebrate His resurrection. Celebrate that He paid your price so that you could see heaven. Celebrate that he defeated death. But also find hope that he is redeeming your present trouble. Whatever it is. The cross wins.
Do you need prayer in your in between? Can I pray for you? Use the contact form here or the messaging on Facebook. I’d love to pray for you in your in between.
Humbled by the cross,
This weekend thousands will flock to the box office to watch a new movie based on a book. A book that glorifies sex outside of marriage. A book that glorifies the sexual exploitation of women. A book that, because it’s marketed to women, has escaped the label of porn. (Seriously folks, if this were written directed at the male audience, it would be sold at the store with XXX outside.)
So, if you’re all about Christian Grey and all that he has to offer, I’m certain you’ve figured out that we’re polar opposites on this one. So before someone feels the need to defend the book readers & movie goers, understand that this isn’t my attempt to shame or judge or guilt anyone into seeing it my way. It’s just my belief…my heart really…on the matter.
Here’s the thing. Maybe I’m wrong about the porn thing. Maybe I’m wrong that it’s sexual exploitation because, according to what I’ve seen online, it’s a consensual thing. But honestly, deep down, I think it’s a spiritual issue.
The Bible tells us that following Christ is black or white, hot or cold, light or darkness. There’s no lukewarm. God prefers the unapologetic sinner over the lukewarm, riding the fence Christian. God prefers someone who totally lives in the darkness to someone who says they love Christ but loves hanging out in the grey areas.
And that’s just it. Our society has bent the moral compass so much that this is now an area that some Christians see as a grey area. 50 years ago…even 10 years ago, this whole 50 Shades thing would have been clearly taboo. But media, movies, books, TV push the envelope a little further and a little further until what was once uncomfortable in our spirit is now not even noticed. Socially acceptable has dulled our spiritual senses and caused many a Christ follower to drift from that narrow road.
And that’s just it. It’s a narrow road. It’s a road that hasn’t widened as society’s moral compass has bent. It’s a road that hasn’t widened as society has told us what once was unacceptable is now acceptable. It hasn’t widened since God inspired the words that are written the Bible. The shoulders of the road are clearly defined. You’re either on the road or off of it.
Someone once told me that if you have to ask if it’s ok, it’s probably not. If you have something (I call it a check in my spirit) that causes you to question if you should read that book, if you should see that movie, if you should watch that show, if you should go to that place, if you should hang out with that person (the list is endless really) then the answer is probably no.
Here’s the thing about the narrow road. It’s clearly marked. Very clearly marked. It’s marked by the Light. Do we all wander off of it? Of course we do. We’re human…and following directions generally isn’t our strong suit from day 1. But the more we strive to stay on that road, the more clearly the signs of the narrow road appear to us. And the more we clearly see life’s choices through the eyes of Christ. It’s a narrow road that’s black and white.
And on that road, there’s no room for Grey.