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When Others Fall

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Too often as Christians we have a tendency to feel a strange sense of pride when we hear that a fellow Christian has fallen into sin. We share prayer requests for Christians who are caught up in disobedience, and we shake our heads with concern, inwardly judging that we are doing better than that fallen one, that we may not be perfect, but at least we aren’t where he is. We grow pride-puffed with even the slightest indication that we are more righteous than another. But, there could be no feeling in the world more in tune with the devil himself than pride, especially in the face of another’s sin problem.

Instead of feeling proud of ourselves when we hear about a sin issue in another, we should be filled with fear and conviction, knowing that in our next breath it could just as easily be us. Our immediate reaction should be humility and trembling, remembering that we, too, are vulnerable to any manner of temptation. In fact, the second we decide we have become elevated beyond any sin, we have invited pride into our hearts, making our own goodness an idol to be toppled.

Sin should always a be a source of grief, whether we are observing it in ourselves or in someone else. Pride has no place here. We are but sinners saved by the grace of a holy, majestic God, and when we begin to feel proud of ourselves, when we begin to take credit and pat ourselves on the back, looking down on those sinners who aren’t as far along on the path to perfection as we are, we had better brace ourselves for a fall of epic proportions. Realistically, when we allow pride to grow in our hearts, when we ooze outwardly with compassion for a sinner but smile inwardly with self-regard, we have already fallen into a pit of sin.

We must resist the urge to compare our best moments to someone else’s worst. As Christians we have only one touchstone: Jesus Christ. When we keep Him in steady view, we are much less likely to be wooed by our own good deeds, and we are much more likely to have genuine compassion for our fellow sinners.

A Picture of Joy (and Anguish)

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People often don’t believe me when I say that I was in labor for 30 hours with my first child. But, I was there. I fully experienced every single one of the 1,800 or so minutes that finally, finally led up to the birth of our long-awaited precious daughter. I had never birthed a child before, and my first experience looked nothing like the movies. There was no dash to the hospital, no series of comical, zany roadblocks causing us to barely make it there in time. For me, it was a drudgery of many long, fearful hours and one night that I thought would never end, wondering what was normal, what was reasonable, and why my body wouldn’t just do what it was supposed to do.

Nurses called the doctor on call. He wasn’t inclined to come in. He wasn’t inclined to see me induced. He wasn’t inclined to allow me an epidural. He didn’t seem inclined to help me much at all, and I felt alone. Exhausted. I was in pain and I was anxious and I didn’t know what to do or what to expect, because this birth story was turning out nothing like the books said it would.

The sun must have just begun to peek over the west Texas horizon when our baby was finally born. It was just after 6am. I had spent part of New Year’s Eve and all of New Year’s Day laboring to bring this child into our world. It was now the second morning of a new year, and the first moment that I laid eyes on our sweet Adelade.

The Bible talks about childbirth a lot. Various prophecies describe childbirth as anguish, severe mental or physical suffering. I wouldn’t be able to use that word to describe my next two births. They were quick, easy, and my mind was more at ease. But, the hours I spent laboring to safely deliver Adelade into this world were anguished. Mental and physical suffering played major roles in my New Year’s Day back in 2005, and right at about three o’clock in the morning on January 2nd, I wondered how I would ever be able to talk myself into birthing another child when this ordeal was over.

But then she was born, and in a half second, all of the fear and misery and loneliness disappeared. My face, twisted with pain and hard work, suddenly spread into a wide smile as I looked with utter relief into the face of my child. I knew in that moment that I would do it all again, sign me up for another thirty hours, just for one opportunity to gaze at this mysterious little human being.

Jesus talks about this very moment in a mother’s life. Jesus, the maker and ruler of everything, our empathetic God (Hebrews 4:15), sits with His disciples as His own anguish is already beginning, far beyond what we can imagine. And He tells His closest friends that they, too, will experience pain and anguish, but like a mother who sees her child’s face for the first time, they will smile again. Their sorrow will be replaced by instant joy. (John 16:21)

Jesus, as He enters into His darkest hours, as He considers what His loved ones will endure, is thinking about a woman like me. He is thinking about women who, from the beginning of time, have identified with Christ through our anguish, laboring to bring forth a life that He created. He knows that His disciples will soon begin to identify with Him, too, and He brings a picture to their minds. A picture of a woman, groaning and grimacing and writhing and coming as near to death as she probably ever has, only to suddenly be met with the blessing of a lifetime. And this is the image that He plants in this moment, right into the minds and hearts of those He loves, those who will be met in a matter of hours with their worst nightmare. I wonder if any of them looked there again, to that portrait that Jesus had painted: a woman, exhausted, bleeding, trembling with sheer fatigue, her face now plastered with a huge grin as the sweat and tears mingle together on her pink cheeks. She beholds her child. And her anguish dissipates in an instant.

Joy comes in the morning. In my case, six in the morning.

And when Jesus appeared again, did His disciples finally understand what He meant when He sketched a tired mother in their minds? Complete joy filled their hearts, and all the anguish of the previous days was wiped away. Their Savior really is who He said He is. And what else really matters?

Later, when each of His disciples faced new troubles, new anguish, persecution, torture, desertion, or death, I wonder if they remembered these words of Christ. I wonder if they looked with fresh spiritual eyes at every woman holding a new baby, reminded once again that in the end, no matter what befalls us in this uncertain life, there is always a certain hope for the end of all anguish. A new morning is ever on the horizon of the Christian life, a new day where all sorrows are erased forever. When we see that day and the things of earth grow dim, I wonder if we will be surprised by how easy it turns out to be to exchange the anguish for pure joy.

[Mortals] say of some temporal suffering, “No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.
-C.S. Lewis

A Tale of Two Bathroom Drawers

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The first sign that Chad and I were basically incompatible came in the form of closets. We had been married for a couple of months, and I felt that he was obsessive about his closet. He cleaned it out once a week or so, taking out excess hangers, making sure that all of the clothing was turned in the proper direction and that it was arranged by season and type. His shoes were perfectly lined up on the floor. The top of his closet was practically empty, but what was there was neatly concealed in perfectly stacked boxes. It was as if his closet was one area of his life where he had complete control, and he maintained that control with all precision and care.

My closet, on the other hand, was a haphazard mish-mash of half-hung clothes, empty hangers, shoes thrown carelessly on the floor, the remains of the twelve outfits that I had tried on earlier in the day flung here and there. The top of my closet was a pile of stuff I didn’t know what to do with, and the bottom of it was a confused mess of scarves, belts, shoes, tops, skirts, jeans, and pjs. And nothing about it stressed me out. Nothing about it worried me in the least or made me feel like I was a slob or made me worry about the state of my brain. I had always been a messy, creative person. To me, piles were just temporary things that you worked around while the really good, creative stuff was happening: the writing and the thinking and the singing and the designing.

I learned pretty quickly that we were going to get on each other’s nerves. I felt like he was truly ridiculous for being so strict about his closet. He felt like I was truly disturbed to be okay with a closet that looked like it had been hit by a clothing tsunami. Our competing styles of living spilled into the rest of our house, and most of the time I either felt like my creative endeavors were being squashed by endless housekeeping or he felt like his brilliant mind was being cluttered by unregulated piles. It didn’t make for a super fun living situation. We would sometimes leave the house and go for a walk (because we had no money to do anything more interesting), just so that we could each escape the pressures of sharing a space with a person who had such different ideas of how things should be done.

That was twenty years ago. Through two decades of sharing a house, we have both changed in certain ways. We both saw the need to bend in the direction of the other. I started liking the way it felt when things were organized and in their place. He started to lighten up about everything being perfectly arranged at all times. We learned that the happiest spot is somewhere in between wildly undisciplined and unreasonably staunch. These days we spend most of our time at home working together to try to keep our home neat, not perfect. Livable, not a museum. Comfortable. Welcoming. A nice place to come home to. Most days things are messier than we’d like. Three children tend to do that to a place. Most days we comment about how we should do this or that. But we focus much more on really living together, not just keeping house together, and I think that may have been what was missing all those years ago as we tried to stubbornly stick to our own way of managing life.

Last night as I dug through my bathroom drawer, I couldn’t find the toothpaste. I opened Chad’s drawer and I was struck by how we are both still who we are. Who God made us to be. His drawer is as beautiful as a bathroom drawer can be, and my drawer is a mess that has to be dug through on a nightly basis. It made me laugh, standing there, twenty years into life with this man that I know so well. I laughed because our bathroom drawers are evidence that we have both compromised in order to live at peace with the one we love. We have both given more than we had to and we have both accepted more than we thought we could so that our love can thrive here, not just in our home, but in our life together.

Somehow looking into that oddly perfect bathroom drawer made me love him just a little more, because it reminded me that love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. I see all of that and more, in one little bathroom drawer. And I’m grateful.

God’s Glory May Be in the Scars

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She’s a petite woman with a penchant for wearing sparkles. Chad and I first met her out in East Texas when she would arrive with gusto at different community events, her husband and daughter smiling behind her while she invariably grinned in her honest way and “told a funny.” They’re a singing trio, all extremely talented, but she is the talker of the family, and she weaves stories about God’s goodness throughout their concerts. I was reminded of this when she and her family stood before our little church on Sunday. It’s been years since we laid eyes on the three of them, but they drove out west and delivered the same heartfelt singing and story-telling that I remembered from days past.

Something was different, though. This little sparkly, joyful woman has been struggling through an autoimmune disorder, and when she walked into our church on Sunday, she did so with apologies. Her always-smiling face bears the marks of the disease that she has been battling. She placed her hands gingerly on her pink cheeks, wanting in some way to hide the signs of illness that she felt had to be explained. She was self-conscious and embarrassed by her appearance. Yet, she smiled as usual. And she thanked God. And she got up on a platform in front of hundreds of people and worshiped Him.

I sat on the front row and felt blessed to be a witness to this moment. I have no doubt that she would have been perfectly content to hide in her room while this disease alters her face. She could have easily justified her choice to stop singing, to stop traveling, to stop having this experience of explaining over and over again to a brand new group of people why her face is so changed. Yet, here she was, glorifying God all the more as she stood to honor Him even now and especially now, singing and speaking of His goodness and His faithfulness and of her desire to bring Him glory. In essence she reminded us that it’s not about her face. It’s about Jesus.

I felt sharp pangs of conviction there at the foot of the platform. I had beautiful skin as a teenager, but for unknown reasons when I turned twenty my skin turned on me. I have struggled with acne for all of my adult life and my face bears the scars. At times I become virtually obsessed with my imperfect skin, wishing for something better and different, wondering how I could hide it, bury it, disguise it. Many a day I have wished that I could stay in my house, stay home from church, stay away from my friends and family, sit at home and wallow in misery over the face that I don’t have. Chances are we all have some insecurity that could easily hold us back from doing the work God has for us. We all could find reasons to stay at home and wallow in our obsessions over things that aren’t that important.

On Sunday I sat on the front row, my teen-aged daughter at my elbow. I wondered if she and I would take this moment to heart, if we would remember how one little East Texas woman stood before us with her pink, swollen cheeks, with her insecurities displayed for everyone to freely observe. I wondered if we would remember the lesson that the Holy Spirit gently taught that day, that God’s glory is sometimes more clearly displayed when we are at our most vulnerable. That our struggles and our sufferings are never wasted in the hands of a good God. That even when healing hasn’t arrived, when things are just as bad today as they were yesterday, He can still receive glory and honor through His children.

Chances are that my daughter will remember this lesson more clearly if she sees it in me. So, I’m thankful for the picture that is burned in my mind, a sequin-clad singer with a face that told a tale of God’s glory. May I remember it forever.

Distrust of the World Should be a Mark of Christianity

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Oh, Momo. I’ve grown weary of the outrage and the panic and the shock over this overblown and not all that impactful scary monster of the internet. If you are shocked by the notion of Momo, then there is a whole wide world of truly terrifying things on the internet that are going to send you into a tizzy. To be honest, some largely folklore-ish chicken lady with bugged out eyes is the least of our internet worries.

Parents, even Christian parents, are far too trusting of what the world produces. If it has the label “for kids” on it, parents put it in their child’s hands without a hint of worry. American Christians are practically experts at burying their heads in the sand, choosing to allow their children to consume things that are vaguely bothersome, but if it’s made for kids, then how bad can it really be? Parents make decisions without stopping to consider who is producing the content that their children are being exposed to. They choose not to dwell on the fact that a biblical worldview is repugnant to most who create programming and gaming for children, and they blindly trust that what some vague strangers have cooked up for their children is wholesome, edifying, and maybe more truthfully, distracting and entertaining.

Meanwhile, their children spend hours on some days letting the world pour knowledge and understanding and paradigms of thinking into their hearts and minds. Christian parents, just feet away in some cases, are completely oblivious to the fact that what their children are learning has nothing to do with godliness, goodness, or even logical constructs of human interaction.

As Christians we should have at least enough wisdom to understand that we cannot trust this world. The Bible clearly teaches us that we are not home–we are aliens in a world that seeks to destroy us (Hebrews 13:14, 1 Peter 5:8-9). Jesus said: “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you” (John 15:18-19). 

If we believe the Bible then we must let it inform the way we think and act. Too often we buy into the idea that people are basically good and trustworthy, even though scripture repeatedly tells us otherwise. If we believe what Jesus taught then we have to take a few steps back and view parenthood through the lens He created for us: this world is bad. Really bad. And the last precious little things we should trust it with are our children.

I don’t say these things to cause us to lose hope as we raise children in these times. God knew exactly which times we would be called to raise children in. He has placed us here for a purpose and will give us His power through the Holy Spirit to make decisions that reflect our worldview. No, I am not trying to discourage parents. I write these things because I tire of Christians being so shocked by how wicked this world is. I get frustrated by the fact that parents won’t listen and learn and know what is out there and what the facts are. I grow weary of Christian parents not having a biblical worldview, not being committed to a way of living that is different from the world, and it is somewhat deflating when I see Christian parents go into a full-blown panic over something like Momo when what is really damaging the hearts and minds of our kids is much more common and insidious. The very devices you are handing them, Moms and Dads, are teaching them a whole set of values. Do you know what those values are? Do you know what this world wants to teach your kids? Do you know how hard some are working to turn the hearts of your children away from God and away from you? Because it is happening, whether you want to admit it or not.

It is so easy to point to some ridiculousness like Momo and call it evil. It takes much more diligence, much more seeking the Lord, much more study and prayer and awareness and determination to realize all of the more innocent-looking ways that the world is setting up camp in your living room through your kids’ devices. What IS your worldview? And how are you teaching it to your children? All of the Momo panic has highlighted at least one thing: this world is bad. But then, Jesus already told us that.

These are strange times for raising children. We can’t do it without Bibles in our hands and God’s word in our hearts.  We need knowledge of the Truth before we can combat the lies. And we need a deep down, urgent sense of how little trust that this world deserves, especially when it comes to our children. And in all of this, still, we can parent with optimism: Jesus is our hope and our children’s salvation. “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Why I See Bright Hope in Our Children’s Generation

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This weekend I spoke at a retreat for preteen girls. We didn’t talk about modesty or boys or makeup tips. We didn’t discuss friendship or time management. Instead we spent the day dwelling on the absolute, perfect truth of God’s word. We talked about the Bible as the authority for all of life and Jesus as the answer to our very real and very present sin problem.

In the afternoon I had a meeting with mothers, and we sat together and faced the realities of this world that we are trying to raise disciples in. My fourteen year old Adelade sat on the front row and listened to us discuss everything from pornography to YouTube to sex education, and as our time came to an end, she quietly asked if she could say something. Then, in her level-headed, calm way, she encouraged the mothers to talk with their children early and often about sexuality, since so many of her own eighth grade classmates are struggling to understand where on the growing spectrum of sexuality that they fall.

When I was a preteen, a girls’ retreat would be focused on more superficial things. We would hear that we are doing great and that God finds us beautiful and that if we want friends we have to be friends. We would have been told that Christian girls don’t wear skirts that are too short and we may have even had a makeup demonstration. Nothing is wrong with these things, but those things aren’t what we really needed to hear.

We were living in a culture that didn’t often demand more from our churches.

But, our kids are growing up in a completely different world. It isn’t going to be enough to urge them to change their behavior. It isn’t going to be enough to tell them Bible stories as morality lessons or to equip them with self-help advice. The culture of their youth is awakening churches to rediscover the true gospel, to re-establish in the hearts of the people the reality that God’s word is the ultimate authority in our lives, to show us just how far we are from a holy God, to wave His standards of holiness like a banner, to throw His grace and mercy to a dying world like the life-and-soul-preservers that they are. For our children, repentance will be the theme of their growing up, perseverance in the face of a culture gone cold to the ways of God. They will have to grow a true, faith-fueled, God-honoring relationship with the Lord to survive the world in which they will come of age. No half-baked religious play time will be enough to sustain these boys and girls. They will have to rise as men and women of great faith, of total conviction, of solid doctrine, of sound theology. They will have to know and love God’s word, and they will have to know and love God.

Otherwise, in this age of anything goes but Jesus, they will crumble and fall away from the superficial religion that we tried to bubble wrap them in. Our kids don’t need to be hidden away. They don’t need for us to pretend the biggest issue they’re going to face is whether girls should call boys. Not in a world where preteens are sending naked pictures to each other. They need to be armed with the truth, both the truth of what the culture surrounding them really is and the truth of what the Bible really is.

I see this happening more and more. I see a generation that is being taught a biblical worldview, that is learning like no other American generation has had to before what kind of faith that it takes to stand up to lies, distortions, persecution, and hatred. It see it in my own daughter–she needs more to cling to than cliches and Christian tshirts. She needs a true, solid, unshakable faith that informs her every thought as she analyzes the world around her. She needs a worldview that is rooted in scripture. She needs the eyes and mind of Christ. No nominal faith will be enough for her–not in this world that wants to devour her heart and soul.

I believe we will soon see a generation that may be fewer in number but more firm in faith than any we have seen for a long time. These kids are growing up with extreme pressure from outside forces, a pressure that I believe will press them even more firmly into the shape of Jesus Christ as we guide them according to the very words of God. I have a bright hope for the kind of bold, God-fearing disciples we will see rise from the ashes of their generation. May God bless them as they glorify His name, blinding lights in an otherwise dark and depressing world. I believe He will do it.

We’ll Give Up Everything But Our Entitlement

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I spend a lot of time thinking about the future of Christianity. I think about the coming days of the country that I live in, and I wonder what we will be called to suffer through as our culture turns more and more anti-Christian and anti-Bible. I often pray that my family and I will have the faith to trust God through whatever may come. I tend to dwell on the big, hypothetical scenarios, wondering how I would react in different frightening or threatening situations: would my belief in Christ hold up to the worst possible things that could happen?

It’s easy to focus on a world of hypotheticals. To think of grand gestures of faith that would please the Lord. To consider how I might glorify Him if I were called to suffer in various (unlikely) circumstances.

What’s more difficult is looking at my present situation. How does my faith hold up here, with very little (if any) suffering, with a packed schedule and lots of responsibilities but a mostly extremely pleasant, if tiring, life? It amazes me how quickly I begin to feel put-upon. How often I will grumble and complain about my responsibilities at church or the small inconveniences of dealing with other human beings. It shocks me how regularly I feel like I deserve something more or better: a paycheck, a pat on the back, a compliment, more enthusiasm from others for what I am doing.

If I want to get brutally honest about my heart, it is entitled to its very core. My heart wants recognition, special treatment, a pedestal to perch on. As much as I hate to admit it, I can imagine all day long what my faith could hold up to in some far-fetched scenario that I dream up, but in my day-to-day, I can’t even give up my own desire for more comfort, more free time, more recognition, more glory. The sad truth is that I live such a privileged life that I don’t even handle slight discomfort or slight stress well. And if you really want to get down to it, you probably have some of the same heart issues.

We are so sure we would give up everything for Christ, even our very lives if we were called to, but we can’t even let go of our feeling that we deserve good things that we aren’t getting. Yes, we feel we deserve more, even in middle our pleasant, happy, comfortable, blessed lives.

No wonder David’s prayer rings true when we read it: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” (Ps. 51:10) It speaks to us because we know that we all have lying hearts that tell us we deserve more and better. Hearts that feed our pride and lead us to feel mistreated, misunderstood, and more holy than we actually are.

We would give up anything, we say. Anything at all to prove our love for Christ. Yet, we cling to our sense of entitlement and we let it steal our joy in serving the Lord.

True faith that bears fruit isn’t really found in the hypotheticals. It’s discovered here, now, in the daily act of dying to ourselves and to our sense of all the things we’re entitled to receive. Taking up a cross is no way to achieve success as the world defines it. It is no way to get honor and recognition and pats on the back. But it is the way to know Christ more. It is the way to identify with our Savior.

This is what a faith that has real effect looks like: it is humble and lowly and recognizes the need to be continually rescued from a desire for things that we don’t deserve. Our hearts are deceitfully wicked. Even we can’t understand them. But, God can. And He knows just how to tame them. Show us the way, Lord.

Raising Pro-Life Children in a Culture of Death

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The latest sound bytes coming out of New York and Virginia have caused most of us terrible grief, as we look up from our day-to-day lives and recognize that our country really has turned into a culture of death. So many facets of our society proclaim that human life isn’t worth much, but none so boldly and unapologetically as the shameful sin of abortion. As the conversation now shifts from the killing of infants in the womb to the killing of infants lying in a hospital bassinet, we look into the faces of our own children and wonder what sort of world they will be raising kids in. What sort of decisions will they face when it comes to the lives of their babies, and will they revere human life enough to know which decision to make? Will they grow up recognizing all people as special creations, made in the image of the one true God? Or will they listen to the demented arguments of those hellbent on killing and find them quite reasonable?

It all boils down to worldview. How can we instill a pro-life ethos in our children? No matter what is happening outside the front door of our homes, how do we create and foster and cherish a culture of life inside our own families? I believe it is entirely possible, but only if we talk to our children. If we shy away from the tough subjects with our kids, they will be left to guess how to process all of things that they see and hear around them. They need our guidance. And, most importantly, they need guidance from a biblical perspective. In the way that we live and in the way that we teach our children, our goal should always be raising true disciples who leave our homes with a crystal clear biblical lens through which to see and understand the world.  With that in mind, here are four ways that we can help our children grow up with a reverence for human life.

1. Teach them that human beings are different from the rest of creation. Our kids need to learn from an early age that human beings are special. Not only were we created in the image of the creator God, we were also created for relationship with Him. We have souls that will never die, and we were appointed to look after and take care of the rest of His creation. Every human life is precious because we are a reflection of our Creator. Our children need to understand that all the animals in the world, as sweet as they can be, are not as precious as a single human life. (Genesis 1:26-27, Mark 12:30)

2. Teach them about abortion. Our children need to know that abortion exists. They need to know that there are people in our country who make it their life mission to see abortion widely accepted and regularly utilized. Even younger children can understand the concept, and they will unequivocally recognize that it is wrong. We can use abortion as an opportunity to show our children how wicked the human heart really is, how bent toward sin it is, and how easily and quickly we try to justify our sins. With older children, we can show them examples of the kind of rhetoric that would try to convince them that abortion is none of their business. Then we can teach them otherwise. (Jeremiah 17:9, Romans 3:23)

3. Teach them that people are worth our time. Our children need to know that no one is worthless or not worth helping or not worth dealing with. People can be difficult, no doubt. They can be annoying and needy. But, through our actions and attitudes toward the human beings around us, we can show our children that people are worth the bother. They are worth the investment and the care and the time. The last thing our children should ever see us doing is writing someone off as hopeless. If anyone is a special creation of God, there is always hope. We can teach our children to look into the face of every person, even those that are more difficult to love or even tolerate, and recognize them as one made in the image of God. (Incidentally, this includes the abortion activists.) (John 13:34, Romans 15:13)

4. Teach them to serve others. Our children need to know that one of the fastest ways to see the value in another individual is by serving them. When we serve others we bind ourselves to them in a special way. We humble ourselves and put the needs of another ahead of our own. One of the most formative experiences that I regularly had as a child was going to a nursing home with my church. Even now, I always leave the nursing home with a greater understanding of the enduring worth of human life. When we share these experiences with our children, they, too, will begin to see humanity as something much bigger than their own experiences. And they will have a clearer view of how God uses people, in all phases and stages of life, to accomplish His will and purposes. (Galatians 5:3, Romans 12:1)

We are in the perfect position while our kids are still in our homes to fill their hearts and minds with the things of God. May the Lord bless you as you teach your children. I pray that together we will raise up a pro-life generation that will seek to honor God in this battle for life. And in all things. Amen.

Don’t Stop Discovering Your Spouse

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Chad and I talk a lot. After twenty-four years of being friends, and twenty of those years living under the same roof,  you would think that we know just about everything about each other. You might assume that we’ve heard every story and can easily predict each other’s reactions to different situations. But, that’s not true. We are still discovering things about each other. He still surprises me regularly with an opinion or idea. I still have plenty of childhood stories in my memory that he has never heard. One of the most fun things about talking to your husband or wife is that there is always the chance that you will go a little bit deeper in understanding and knowing each other. There are all kinds of fascinating things going on in your spouse’s mind that you will never uncover unless you communicate.

Some couples have a hard time talking to each other. It’s understandable. It can be awkward and even disappointing or upsetting at times to try to talk with your spouse. Yet, sticking with small talk or, worse, silence, can be extremely damaging to your relationship. Even introverts need and crave human connection, and there is no one you should be seeking to know more than you seek to know your husband or wife.

God has given us marriage as a gift. What are we doing with it? Are we just getting through the days, working side by side but not connecting with each other in intimate ways? Are we neglecting each other in favor of other pursuits, even good things? One cure for a lack of connection is real communication. But, where do we start?

The other day Chad and I were at lunch and he mentioned that it would be fun to have some questions to ask each other. We searched around on the internet there in our booth and found a few websites that had conversation starters. We chose a few questions we found interesting, and it was really fun to see what kind of answers we could come up with. Oddly enough, a few days later I found an email in my inbox from Katie at Personal Creations, and she had created free printable questions for couples that she wanted to share with my readers! Is the internet spying on me? (Probably.)

Regardless, I really like these questions. Katie has even divided them into categories so that you can narrow down the topics that you might want to talk about at any given time. I think this is the first time I’ve ever gotten to offer free printables on my blog, and I’m pumped. Katie even includes some blank cards. I think I will use those to write some questions about spiritual things. You can print these cute cards out or just download them to your phone and pull them up during dinner one night. There are all kinds of ways you can use these questions to discover new things about your spouse and liven up the conversation when you’re driving or just hanging out together.

Just click the button above to download and/or print your questions. Huge thanks to Katie and Personal Creations for reaching out to me with this fun freebie. I would love to hear how you plan to use these questions to keep discovering your spouse. Have fun!

My Husband, My Friend, My Brother

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Today is Chad’s 44th birthday. Sometimes it takes my breath away, how quickly that our life is flying past. I remember exactly how I felt about life back in 1995 when I first laid eyes on him. He was young and unsure and I was naive and cautious. We struck up an unlikely friendship that puzzled lots of people, and here we are, a couple of decades later, still friends.

There are times when I get sad, thinking about the fact that we only have one lifetime to live as husband and wife. Our life isn’t perfect, because we aren’t perfect. There is plenty of un-fun stuff to deal with when you’re all grown up, but we are happy, truly happy, to be side by side through the good and the bad of the human existence.

After twenty years I’m beginning to learn that one key to Christian marriage is realizing that your husband, your closest friend, is also your brother in Christ. He is yours to uphold and safeguard. To marvel at as He grows in faith. To encourage, to bring honor to, to love. And at the end of this marriage, when one us of slips from this life to the next, we can take comfort in knowing that he is my brother and I am his sister, both heirs of the King who brought us together in the first place. We will have eternity.

I once heard John Piper say that whatever the marriage relationship is on earth, it will be something infinitely better in Heaven. Chad may one day cease to be my husband, but he will never cease to be my brother. It’s one of the great gifts of Christian marriage–knowing that we will forever worship our Savior, side by side. We will see each other as we were always meant to be. And we will know that, through this too-short life, we helped each other prepare for the day we would stand before the Lord.

What an undeserved blessing. Happy birthday to my husband, my friend, my brother.

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