in the changing of seasons: a final post

 June 26, 2008. 

The day I wrote my first post on this blog. I was sitting in a hotel room in New York, prepping to fly to London. As the flight took off the next day, I thought, "That's it. It's over. I've ruined my whole life and I'm going to die somewhere in Africa, alone and abandoned." (I've always leaned towards the dramatic.) 

And the truth is, I did ruin my whole life. For weeks, I had been taking most of my stuff to the local Goodwill. I made so many trips that at one point, the intake guy commented, "Are you getting a divorce? You're here everyday with tons of stuff." 

"Nope. Just selling my house, giving away everything that won't fit in two suitcases, leaving my dog behind and moving to a different country. You know, totally normal."

I ruined my "house in the suburbs, little red sports car, single woman with a dog" life. 

I ruined my "culturally-specific, privileged majority, America is the Best" life.

I even ruined my "western interpretation, American Bible" life.

But the reality is, God told me to get on that airplane. I was scared, nervous, afraid... and fully convinced that God had told me to do it and He was going to figure it out. I was totally naive about what I needed to survive in another country. I didn't know that I packed the wrong books and the wrong shoes. I didn't realize that I would need a sweatshirt for the beach at night and a manual-charging flashlight for the rolling power outages. I showed up with the wrong things and the wrong ideas about what life in Tanzania would be like. But God was faithful. He helped me make friends and learn the Swahili words for green pepper and pineapple and figure out how to make coffee over a gas burner. He helped me listen and learn, realizing that He does, indeed, speak every language and that pieces of His Spirit can be found in every culture all over the world. 

God did, indeed, ruin my life.  

And I am forever grateful for it. 

14 years later, I am about to get on another airplane. 

This Saturday, Hubby and I are headed to Tirana, Albania for a vision trip. We get to meet with the team living there, explore some historical parts of the country, figure out if we can feed our food-allergy family with the groceries available, and tour the school where our children could attend. If all goes well... I guess even if it doesn't go particularly well... if the team thinks God is in this and if we think God is in this, then we will start making many trips to our local thrift store, getting rid of anything that won't fit in two suitcases per person. 

(But this time, we don't have any pets to leave behind... much to the relief of my parents. wink. )

Our family has all the big feelings right now. Our oldest keeps having stomach aches, "I'm just so nervous" he keeps saying. So we made sure our Google Homes were set up so he can video call us or leave us messages anytime he wants. Our youngest says she is "big, giant sad" because she will miss us and also "a little nervous... and also maybe a little scared of the dark." Middle assured us, three times during our hour long family meeting, that he won't miss us because of all the fun things he will get to do and all the fun people he is looking forward to hanging out with... "Did you hear that Mom? I'm not going to miss you. Did you write it down on the prayer list? Well don't... because I'm not... going to miss you." (If you see him, please ask if he needs an extra hug. He is apparently (not) going to miss us an awful lot.) ;) 

And I have been a wreck. 

It's SO MUCH easier to follow God onto an airplane and let Him ruin your life when it's just your life He's ruining. When you are asking your husband and children to do the same, it's a whole different level of life ruination. 

And I pray that they will, one day, also be forever grateful for it. 

Since I started this blog to chronicle all the ways God ruined MY life when He called me to be a cross-cultural witness in Tanzania, and, as a family, we are embarking on a journey to let God ruin OUR lives, I think it's time for a change. This will be the final post on "in Times of Spring." Thank you for following along on this wild ride of change and unexpected miracles. It started as a way to tell the story of a single girl following a faithful God. And it's ending, full of faithfulness, heart break, miracles and unexpected joys. We pray our new stories will be just as full. 

If you'd like to follow along, we will continue blogging our story here at theschlattfamily.blogspot.com. 

in culture shock: is America and the church in America in culture shock?

Hubby and I are currently preparing to make a geographical shift for our family.  So we are studying some things, taking classes on some new things, talking about things. One of the articles I had to read this morning, included this diagram:

This diagram shows the stages of passing through culture shock when you move to a new country.  At first, you love it! Everything about it: The food, the smells, the music... and you want to stay forever! 

A little later, you hate it all: Why do these people have to smell so weird? Why do they eat these gross things? And good Lord, why do they play their music so loud on holidays???? ... and you just want to go home. 

Eventually, you learn to love both: I still miss pizza on Friday nights, but man do i love these kebabs. 

As I thought more about this diagram, I wondered if I could apply it to Christian life and/or American culture as a way to help explain the division going on right now. If Culture Shock, by definition, is the disorientation of discovering that all the cultural patterns you have learned are now meaningless, then we got a whole lot of people going through a whole lot of culture shock. 

Okay, Boomer

Imagine you were born in the 1940s or 1950s or even the 1960s...  You didn't have cell phones... or computers... or internet... or maybe not even a TV and you had a very specific way of thinking about our country. Now, all of a sudden, people don't write letters anymore. Nobody wants to use cursive. What the hell is common core? and why do we have to be so "politically correct all the time!" CULTURE SHOCK. 

All the cultural patterns that Boomers thought they knew, are no longer relevant. So if an "old person" around you is "stuck in the good old days" and complains that "we didn't have to think so much about insulting people," they are stuck in the "trough of culture shock." (see diagram above) They are uncomfortable, nothing is familiar, and they just want to go home. 

Maskers vs. Anti-Maskers

You know that friend who is like, "Freedom! I'm not wearing a mask." or that friend who is like, "I don't care if the numbers are down, I'm protecting me and mine."? I'm wondering if maybe they're both in culture shock. 

The "Anti-maskers" are remembering the days before the pandemic. They remember how they didn't have to wear masks in schools. They're remembering when they could go where they wanted and have unrestricted access to most things. They want to "get back to normal"... when America was "better and stronger" than the rest of the world and independence and "personal freedoms" were the highest values.  It's super hard to move through this culture shock and into the realization that expectations of your community matter and America is just as vulnerable as every other country in the world. 

And those of us who are "Maskers," well, right now we're terrified because we adjusted to this "new normal" and now people are telling us it's okay to try something new again. We see the waves and we think," no, I'll just stay home where it's safe and wait until something else comes next." We are trying to keep ourselves safe from the coming culture shock of what a "post-epidemic" society will look like. 

Christianity

So here's the things about Christianity... to be a Christian is to be "bicultural." Jesus said this himself in John 17:11-15. (the often quoted "in the world but not of the world" passage.) So to be a Christian is to live in a world where there will always be something within the culture that "just doesn't sit right with you." There will always be things that make you think "Oh, Jesus, please come back soon" or "what everybody needs is the gospel." [Side note: if you can't think of anything within your current cultural context that doesn't evoke this kind of reaction, then maybe you should take a little time to talk to the Holy Spirit about that.] However, I think that being "in the world but not of it" means that we have reached the "adjusted bicultural person" peak from the above chart. If all we do all day is sit around in our culture shock and talk about Heaven, then we're not obeying Jesus. If our answer to everything is "people just need the gospel," then we're not obeying Jesus. [Yes, life in Jesus is the best and most abundant life. But even that life looks different in different cultures. So you need to be an "adjusted bicultural person" so people can see how Jesus is culturally relevant.] 

Grace.  I guess my conclusion here, is grace. We need to give space for grace. 

When that "Boomer" starts going on and on about how great things used to be, let's show grace and figure out how we can give them space to grieve the "cultural home" they miss, listen to their stories and help them figure out how to adjust to this new culture. 

When that "anti-masker" starts talking about freedom or that "masker" starts giving you data, let's show a little grace and give them space to talk about their fears and worries. And let's help each other move to this "new space" where the pandemic is, in fact, a real thing that happened to our country, a healthcare problem became a political fight, we have brilliant scientists and health care professionals, democracy wins, a lot of people (on both sides of the aisle) put too much trust in politicians and not enough in themselves... and we've discovered that we're just as vulnerable as every other country in the world to teeny, tiny microbes.  

And when that Christian brother or sister starts talking about "this is the way the church has always done it" or "God is love" or "Deconstruction"... let's give grace. It's rough trying to figure out how to love Jesus and be culturally relevant in a way that other people see Jesus, too. The Bible doesn't talk about TVs or cell phones or the internet or pandemics. It says "love your neighbor" but there weren't ~8 billion "neighbors" in the world. And, let's be real, unless you're living in an ancient society, reading the Bible in Greek, Hebrew or Aramaic, then it was translated by people who are trying to figure out how to relate culturally specific ancient ideas to modern metaphors. Let's give grace and help each other navigate that CULTURE SHOCK curve as we try to figure out how to be "adjusted bicultural people" who love Jesus so we can help other people fall in love with Jesus. 

(graph taken from Cultural Anthropology by Paul Hiebert... https://home.snu.edu/~hculbert/points.htm)

(image taken from https://ois.usc.edu/culture-shock-shakes-things-up-for-new-students/)

in a "Christian" store

 I had a panic attack at Hobby Lobby the other day. Worship music playing over the loud speakers... FOUR aisles of Easter stuff... eggs and bunnies mixed in with crosses and crucifixes... and a healthy dose of "God Bless America" mixed right in... and suddenly it was hard to breathe and I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. 

It could have been the fact that I was shopping an over-whelming store with a three year old... "Don't touch that... Please stay with me... Yes, you have to hold my hand... Please don't shout at me..." Or it could have been a visceral reaction to the cancer of consumerism that has been infecting American Christianity for decades.  

If something is labeled "Christian" or has the phrase "I love Jesus" somehow attached to it, we consume it with ferocity. Rarely do we take the time to discern if it's actually worthy of consumption or healthy to be consumed. We accept it because it claims to be "one of us" and we feel grateful that we can consume it without fear that our souls will be tainted by it. We are elated that we can shop without thought, support without discernment, consume with abandon. 

But this in not how God made us! He gave us brains to think, souls to discern and bodies with limits. Are we still being "meek as sheep and wise as serpents (Matthew 10:16)" if we support and consume without first asking God if we should? 

God has shown us what is good... to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with Him (Micah 6:8). Have I taken the time to research Hobby Lobby's supply lines to find out if their factories treat their workers justly and with mercy? 

I have not.

I did with Wal-mart... which is why I tend to shop more at Target.  

But I didn't with Hobby Lobby. I just made assumptions based on the worship music over the loud speakers and the "CLOSED on Sunday" sign on the door. If I dig a little deeper will I find that this store is still worth supporting? 

At the same time, I'm NOT saying that the reverse is true.. that just because it's "Christian" means it's bad. I AM saying that we need to use our brains to think and our souls to discern. if something is good based on its quality and character, then let's call it GOOD. But if something is bad based on its quality and character, then let's call it BAD and not pretend that it's good just because it's "Christian." LET'S JUST BE HONEST ABOUT THINGS. 

Honest: I would like to support Chick-fil-a because they are a Christian company, but I don't eat there because I don't like their chicken. 

Dishonest:What? You don't like the chicken? Then go get french fries! We have to do everything we can to support this business because it's Christian and they observe the sabbath. 

 

Honest: The film production quality is still really rough BUT I support their vision so I'm going to see the movie and support the company so they can improve. 

Dishonest: Let's sell out this theatre because it's a Christian movie! 

 

God gave us brains to think, souls to discern and bodies with limits. Let's honor Him by making wise decisions about what we consume, how we consume it and when we've had enough. 

Is there anything that you have, without thought, called "good" because it's "Christian"? is there anything that you have called "bad" because it's not?  

in a pit... with a toddler... on a snowy day.

So I find myself in the unenviable position of living in a pit of despair. 

It sounds dramatic, I know. 

But I have never been a person who is known to be lacking in drama so there you go. 

I want to blame it on the weather... because February. Grey, rain, more grey, more rain. 

But I can't.

I have to blame it on my toddler. 

If you have never experienced daily interactions with a two year old, it goes a little something like this...

Don't eat that. 

Don't put your finger in there. 

Please don't put that in your mouth. 

Stop hitting your brother. 

Don't climb that. 

Don't sit on that. 

Don't use that to climb that to sit on that. 

Please stay in bed. 

Please go to sleep.

Please go back to sleep. 

Please go back to bed. 

I love you, too. 

and then you do it again the next day. and again the next day. and again the next day. 

If insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then parenting a toddler is borderline psychosis... knowing you will not get a different result but still doing the same thing over and over again. Because if you stop saying "Don't eat that, don't put your finger in there, please stop hitting your brother," then somebody is going to get poisoned and you're going to end up at the Emergency Room and ain't nobody got time for that! (Plus, you know, you love the kid. So there's that...) 

And, in the midst of all this just-trying-to-keep-your-toddler-alive, you have to plan healthy, home-cooked meals because vegetables are important, and have age-appropriate development activities so the kid won't be too dumb, and read at least 12 books a day so the kid will be an early reader, and limit screen time so they won't grow up to be a lazy ass, and make sure you give them plenty of eye contact and hugs so they won't become a serial killer. 

And, oh yes, essential oils. 

And it's easy to buy a plaque from Hobby Lobby that says, "Excuse the mess, we're making memories" or "My only goal is to keep the tiny Humans alive," but eventually someone has to cook dinner and do the dishes. Because, eventually, you do run out of forks. (And your kids look at you weird when you make them eat eggs with a spoon. I heard that somewhere...) And in the three minute time span that it takes you to put away the food from dinner, your unsupervised toddler will decide to get out of bed create chaos. And when you discover that she has un-planted everything that you planted in new pots just the day before, you will scream and use the words "Just wait until your Daddy gets home!!" Then you will put her in the pack n play and go downstairs and clean the kitchen. 

So yes, life with a toddler, specifically a 2 almost 3 year old, is monotonous and frustrating and can lead to a pit of despair. 

But there's also this... the pink wind spinner that she insisted on buying when she asked to go to the craft store the other day...

So even on the greyest day, we have a bright pink, happy spot in our garden. 

And there's this...

When she puts on her Princess Anna dress and a Superhero mask to play Batman and Robin with her brothers... 

And there's this...

When she dances with her Daddy in the kitchen and her joy lights up a room. 

Life with a toddler is not easy. But strong women do change the world. They just have to survive the toddler years... :)

in America: Why I am Grateful for this Country but can no longer say the pledge of allegiance

So here it is, Memorial Day. We're at the beach and Husband has the boys in the sand and the Toddler is taking a nap here in the condo so I'm taking a minute to write down some thoughts about my Passport country and why I can't say the Pledge of Allegiance anymore.

I know, I know. I should just post a picture of the flag and say how grateful I am for the troops and Go America! and all that. But I've been thinking a lot about this lately and I figured now is the time to process out loud. or something.

Here's my picture... And I am grateful for the troops... But I'll get to that later.

So the Pledge of Allegiance. First of all, let me say I'm sorry to my friend, L, who, years and years ago, stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance. And I was all like, "Ack! Are you serious? Where's your patriotism?" But she was right. God doesn't call us to be patriots or nationalists. He calls us to be Citizens of Heaven (Phil 3:20) and to live peacefully with the people around us so that we will be a blessing to them (Zechariah). Like the story of Naaman and the Servant Girl. (1 Kings 5) Like the story of Joseph in Egypt (Gen 39 and 41). But the Bible is also filled with stories of people who were NOT good citizens... who blatently ignored the laws of the Land: like Daniel (Daniel 6) ; Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Daniel 3); Rahab (Joshua 2). In our current view, it's easy to see them as Heros of the Faith who stood up for God and refused to compromise on their beliefs. But, in reality, they were criminals. They broke the law, they defied decrees, they lied to the King. In fact, the wise men who were setting up Daniel knew that the only way they could catch him out was to put conflict between the law of the land and the Law of God (Daniel 6:5). So that's why I can't say the Pledge of Allegiance... I can't "pledge allegiance to the flag and the United States of America." Because I've already pledged allegiance to GOD (Father, Son and Holy Spirit.) And when the Law of God comes into conflict with the Laws of the United States of America, then I will be a criminal and a law breaker.

Within the history of the United States, Christianity, as a religion, has enjoyed certain perks. There has been prayer in schools, "See You at the Pole" events, an opening prayer for a Congressional session...  For goodness sake, even some of our Presidents use a Bible while taking the Oath of Office! (Not all of them, though... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oath_of_office_of_the_President_of_the_United_States#Use_of_Bibles ) But, we are NOT a Christian nation. Our Constitution doesn't make Christianity the official religion. We are, in fact, a pluralist nation. It's the First Amendment!! (Believe it or not, Freedom of Religion comes before Freedom of Speech, in fact.) But I will not take this privilege for granted. I will not use it to pretend that this is a Christian nation. I want to remain keenly aware that I am a sojourner here... and as such, it is my responsibility to use what privilege I have to bring blessing, be a peace maker (Not a peace keeper, mind you), to use my voice to support those with less privilege, and to support others who are also sojourners in this land.

But I refuse to take this privileged position for granted. So I cannot pledge allegiance. But I am grateful.
Grateful for this nation where, as a woman, I still had the opportunity to pursue education.
Grateful that I can openly celebrate Christmas and Easter without fear of retribution or imprisonment.
Grateful that I can travel wherever I want, whenever I want.
Grateful that I can march, protest, write a letter to a lawmaker, have a voice in politics. (Although, as a moderate, it's a quiet voice in a sea of extreme noise, but that's another post for another time.)
Grateful that this nation still maintains a deep sense of Justice. (I believe every culture shows some aspect of the Kingdom of God... and I believe this is America's.)

*Side note: I know, Justice is a hard word for us right now... when racism is still so prevalent, especially within the Judicial system; when the gap between the rich and the poor is wide and uncrossable; when people are dying from easily medicated diseases because they can't afford the prescription. But if we didn't believe in Justice, then we wouldn't care. We wouldn't have a riot when another black life is lost to a "routine police investigation." We wouldn't fight to overturn court decisions... we wouldn't even appeal! We wouldn't throw up our hands and say, "WTF?" when a city poisons half its population with contaminated drinking water. In all these cases, if we didn't care about Justice, we would say, "Meh. Stuff happens."*

and I'm grateful to the men and woman who are willing to stand in the gap and serve in the military. I've had the privilege to know and have conversations with some Army Chaplains. One I recently had with the Chaplain at our local veteran's center, concerned how he spends most of his time. He said there was always the weekly church service, but most of his time was spent counseling the men and women who were serving. Giving them a place to talk about, vent, and examine the choices that they were making: how serving in the military and obeying the commandment "Thou Shalt not Kill" seemed impossible.  (This American Life also had a similar interview on their show "10 Commandments".) After this conversation, I realized, it has been fairly easy for me to obey that commandment. I have never experienced anything that has put me in the position of needing to defend myself to the death. I have needed to physically defend myself, to verbally defend myself, and to intellectually defend myself. But I haven't experienced anything that required me to kill someone else to keep myself or my family safe. But there are people who have. And I know that there is a pacifist conversation going on right now.  (And before you roll your eyes, even pacifists had a role during WWII: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Public_Service) And I support that conversation. But the bottom-line is, somebody had to stop Hitler. He rolled right over most of Europe until a tiny, little island in the middle of the Atlantic stood up and said, "No more. No further." And they fought with everything they had. And when the US military joined the fight, it took a spectacular loss of life to stop the tragic extermination that was occurring. Someone had to stand up, hold a weapon, and say stop. Someone had to weigh the brutality of the concentration camps against the life of the soldier in front of him. Someone had to stand in that gap between "Thou Shalt not Kill" and "Rescue those being lead away to death (Proverbs 24:11)."  And I want to say Thank You. Thank you for standing in that gap. To my cousins, my grandfathers, my friends, my former students: Thank you.

in His own words (part 2)

(This is the blog post where I'll get to the point about God changing things... I hope. It's early... like the sun-hasn't-even-made-that-little-pink-strip-in-the-sky early.So hopefully, the kids will stay asleep and I can finish this.)

Last year, Mike gave me the day off for my birthday. Well, sort of the day off... I was still nursing so the baby had to come with me, but one kid is easier than three, right? It was a beautiful, late August day; the kind where the mornings are starting to get a little cool and damp and the sun is starting to sleep just a little bit longer, so the kids are also starting to sleep just a little bit longer. The baby and I went for a walk on an trail here in Lexington that leads you past old farmhouses and homesteads. And there's a waterfall. And a reservoir. And it was beautiful and peaceful and we nursed in a prairie under a grove of trees. (No, we really did that... the place was amazing.)

So we finished our lovely hike in this gorgeous place, and it was only 10:30 in the morning... and I couldn't think of anything else to do. 

Because without my kids, I'm a non-person. I am not anything. I have no hobbies, no talents. (Well, I watched a lot of Stargate SG-1 and the Great British Baking Show while I was nursing, but I don't think those count.) Right now, all of my energy is pointed towards keeping three tiny humans alive, and without them, I can't think of anything to do. If there is a quiet moment, I simply wait for the next minute that they'll need me. Because somebody ALWAYS needs me. 

So on my birthday, when I have the day off, and I don't need to think about the children (except the one who is with me and smiles a lot, despite the fact that she gives the camera a, "Why are you photographing me?" face every time we try to get her on "film"), I can't think of anything to do. Standing in the parking lot, turning in circles, feeling like a failure, because I can't think of one thing I would like to do that doesn't involve my children.

So I went to Target to buy diapers. 

And I ran into a friend... who was out shopping with her kids, and she said, "Yeah, that's where we are right now. It would take 4 days to get out of Mom mode. So really, you need a week off, and we don't get that right now. And it sucks."

And I thought, "You know? She's right."So I went to Mellow Mushroom for lunch because they are the ONLY pizza place that will use Vegan Cheese and they also have an amazing hummus that they make with fresh basil. (Yum.) And then I went home. 

Happy Birthday to me.

Now here's the God part... God gave me three gifts on my birthday. Three birthday presents that He just handed to me, even though I didn't pray for them, I wasn't looking for them, and I wasn't "eagerly anticipating" them. He just gave them to me.

Side note: and that's kind of a big deal to me right now because my main love language used to be physical touch but with three small children who have no concept of personal space, my main love language is now "get off me!" (My poor husband... I literally had a panic attack one night in bed when he reached for my hand and I screamed at him, "Really? I can't have one minute of no one touching me? REALLY?" Sorry, honey.) Due to this lack of space around me, my main love language has switched to gifts. (Again, sorry honey. I used to ask for "a walk in the woods, holding your hand," and this year, for our anniversary, I was all "(sob, sniff) And you didn't buy me anything!... You blew it, man!"

So gifts. That's how I know someone loves me. And God gave me three birthday presents. See? Kind of a big deal for me. :) 

Gift 1: The day before my birthday, I was in Joann Fabrics with the kids and a woman handed me 2 yards of dinosaur-printed flannel that the 4-year-old had been admiring. She had purchased it for me because, "Any mom who can handle three small children as well as you are is obviously a great mom." (Seriously, an angel dressed as an old woman with big hoop earrings.)

Gift 2: Running into an encouraging friend at Target who told me that I wasn't crazy, I was just a busy momma.

Gift 3: When I got home, there was a stalk of fresh basil waiting for me. (Okay, so this one I did ask for... sort-of.  While I was eating the amazing hummus at Mellow Mushroom, in my head I thought, "I would love some to have some fresh basil at home.") When Mike had taken the boys to play at the park in our Community Garden, one of our neighbors was there weeding her garden plot. She snipped off a stalk of her own basil and handed it to Mike, "Take this to your wife for her birthday." So there was this pile of gorgeous, earthy smelling basil leaves waiting for me when I got home.

And I didn't realize any of this... until the next day in church. And we're standing there, singing... and suddenly it hits me... God gave me three presents for my birthday! And then my toddler hit me as he was trying to climb into the chair backwards and then he knocked over my travel mug full of coffee and the baby, who was in the Ergo on my front, started whimpering. 

And 10 minutes later, I cried and I prayed, "God, I can't even say "Thank you." You do this amazing thing for me, and I don't even have one minute that I can say "Thank you" and worship you for how awesome you are." And God responded, 

"I know. You can't reach for me right now because your hands are full. But I can reach for you."

And then I sat down and ugly cried. Because He's right. My whole life I had been taught that if I wanted to be close to God, then I needed to make it happen. I needed to pray. I needed to sing. I needed to read my Bible, or have a "quiet time" or take a walk in the woods to really get close to God's creation and His presence. But here was God, in all of his amazing, wonderfulness saying, Here I am, getting close to you.

And that's when I realized what the Holy Spirit was all about. Sure, he provides healing. Sure, he helps us make good choices. Sure, he convicts us when we sin. But his whole point, the reason that Jesus went back to Heaven after his resurrection, was so the Holy Spirit could come and be the presence of God on Earth. The Holy Spirit is here so that God can be close to us. 

So why did I feel like I had to try so hard to do it on my own?!!???

So then what is the point of reading your Bible, writing in a journal, having a quiet time, taking a walk to enjoy God's creation? Because God didn't tell me that all of those things were pointless... He said I didn't have time for them NOW. So if the point of those activities wasn't personal holiness or "coming closer to God" what is the point of doing them???

A few months back, our Pastor gave an amazing sermon that answered that question. In this sermon, he cited two psychological studies that were researching pairs of people working on a challenging task. Both studies concluded that doing something together, in a non-stressful environment, prepares you to work together when faced with a challenge. He used these studies to unpack the verses of Romans 8:1-18, namely how to live life by the Spirit. His suggestion was that the point of reading your Bible, quiet times, etc. was to provide that non-stressful hobby which you and the Holy Spirit can participate in, so when times of struggle come, you can more easily cooperate with Him. 

So when finding a quiet time to have a "quiet time" was stressing me out, God was like, "Stop it. I'm right here." So now we find other "non-stressful hobbies" to do together... like coloring pages that have bible verses on them which I can color while my children are coloring. Or sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, thanking God for my porch and coffee, while my children spray each other with a hose. Or making full use of the church nursery and kids programs when all three of our children agree to go so that I can worship and listen to the sermon without distraction. And these seem to be enough for right now. 

When I can get some time to myself, I usually take my Bible. 

Sometimes I read it. Sometimes I don't. 

But I'm trusting that if God has something important to tell me, He'll tell me. 

Because right now, I have children who enjoy playing "Dino-wrestling Jamboree" and they need me to referee. :) 

in His own Words (part 1)

Last year, in this post, I wrote about realizing that I was mad at God. And at the end, I promised that I would write again to explain where He and I are right now. And I never did. So now I am.

Once upon a time, I became a Christian.
I grew up in an evangelical home.
I was baptized at the age of 5.
I went to church every Sunday. (well, my siblings will tell you about the time I refused to go to church and my parents and I had a very dramatic standoff involving me sitting in my pajamas in the church parking lot... but MOSTLY I went to church every Sunday.)

And I gotta tell you, I loved Jesus. Like, I was excited to go to church. (most of the time ;) ) I liked reading my Bible. I was that kid who won awards for memorizing Bible verses. I gathered prayer requests from my bunk mates at summer camp. I wore the "I ♥ Jesus" t-shirt to school. (No, like I really did that. It looked like this:

When I was in 5th grade, I wrote an essay about how I wanted to be a Missionary when I grew up. I took French in High School because I had heard that Bible-believing Christians were a tiny minority in France and I wanted to go there and tell people about Jesus. (That's a true story.)

So, I liked being a Christian. I liked hanging out with Jesus. I wanted to be close to Him and do the things that He did. (Okay, yes, I did have a WWJD bracelet... but it wasn't because it was cool, it was because I actually read the book "In His Steps" that the whole trend was based on... like, I found my mom's 1960-something copy of the old book first published in 1896... So like, I was legit with my old book copy and everything... (ahem.)

The types of churches that my family attended were pretty... tame churches, for lack of a better description. People loved Jesus, and prayed for healing and sent out missionaries and raised their hands in worship, but the Holy Spirit wasn't really talked about. He was kind of like the weird uncle that people love to hear stories about (Did you hear how Mrs. Church Lady had cancer and people prayed for her and she went to the doctor and the doctor was like, "Whoa, no more tumor! Jesus is cool!") but nobody really wants around because he's going to say something awkward at Thanksgiving dinner. So, in the denominations that my family attended, the way to be close to Jesus was to:
1. read your Bible
2. have a quiet time (it should be everyday, but at the very least every other day)
3. write in a journal
4. go to church.

We even had our own "memes" about it... before there were memes... when you would just wear a clever saying on a shirt or put a sticker on your guitar case. (I'm pretty sure guitar-case stickers were the meme generators of the late 90s.)

  

Oh wait, that's something else...

Then, I got to Tanzania and I started working with a Pentecostal church...where EVERYBODY raises their hands, and people speak in tongues and healing happens IN SERVICE on SUNDAY morning! (What?) And the Holy Spirit is like the cool kid that everybody wants to be friends with even if they've never really met him. ("Oh, HS? Yeah, I know him. I was praying the other day and like 40 people just fell on their faces and like worshipped and there was healing and deliverance and stuff. It was awesome." ) And suddenly, the way to be close to Jesus was to hang out with the Holy Spirit, and pray for people, and use your gifts in worship... and speak in tongues.

But, here's the thing... I don't speak in tongues. (At least, not in the usual way... ) And my own life story involves God NOT healing me, no matter how much we prayed/worshipped/shouted at Him. (I mean, He had something else in mind... like a marriage and a family and stuff. But whatever.) So even though I was surrounded by "Holy Spirit People," I still didn't really know HOW to think about, let alone interact with the Holy Spirit. So staying close to Jesus now meant asking the Holy Spirit to help me read the Bible, pray about it, Hallelujah. But it was still MY job to stay close to Jesus.. My job to "move with the Spirit" (WTF?) to find God's will for my life... MY job to cooperate with whatever God wanted to do, whenever He wanted to do it.

And then God made me a mother... to two high energy boys and a little girl who NEVER stops moving! (like literally, never. Even in the womb it was like, Who's having a party in there?)

And now, I can't even go to the bathroom by myself. So finding time to pray? I can "lift up" a few things while I do the dishes, maybe... (But I'd rather watch old episodes of Stargate SG-1 just so I can hear an adult talk to me.) And reading my Bible? It's great, except if a kid sees me reading a book, he's going to be like, "Hey Mom, can you read me Curious George?" And I'm going to be like, "No, I'm reading my Bible." And he's going to be like, "Oh, I'll get my bible and you can read to me, too." And then he's going to go into his room and find his Bible and drop it on the floor and wake up his brother who is going to cry and come downstairs and insist that I snuggle him and then ask me to change his poopy diaper. And then the baby will start to cry while I'm changing the diaper because she also needs a new diaper and some breakfast. And I'm going to be so glad that I got up early to have some quiet time!!!

And when I finally get some time away on my own, I would love to WANT to go to Starbucks and sit with my cup of coffee and my Bible and read for hours and feel totally fulfilled. But I don't! When I get a break, I don't want to study!!

So last year, I told God, "Sorry. I can not find the time to sit quietly with you. I've tried. I've tried to involve my kids, or get up early or go to bed late. But none of it works. And I know if I feel far from you, "I'm the one who moved" so it's my job to find my way back. But I just can't right now. So, I'll see you when my kids turn 18."


And I thought that was it, you know? "God, I'll see ya in 18 years."

And then God spoke.
And He changed things.
He changed everything.
And He made me realize how much of HIM I was actually missing.

(But now my children are awake... well, they were already awake and I made them watch Daniel Tiger so I could finish this... well, they were awake watching Daniel Tiger last week when I finished this post and now they're getting ready to wake up again while I rewrite the last two sentences. So, I'll have to make this a two part blog. Stay tuned for the exciting continuation... or don't, or whatever. Because I'm sure you've got stuff to do also. ;)