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What He Holds

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When I was a kid, Vacation Bible School was the highlight of my summer. I still remember how the slightly watered-down KoolAid tasted when it washed down exactly two sandwich cookies from the local grocery store, each lovingly placed on a white napkin and eagerly gobbled up by children who were that special brand of midsummer morning starved.

I remember how much I looked forward to painting the red bricks on the outside of the church with water, the brilliant notion of some long ago Bible School director. The buckets and paint brushes and cool, cool water were a big part of my summertime dreams as a child.

This past week, in the grand tradition of many, many summers long past, our church was filled to the brim with excited children. When you are a grown-up,VBS is all at once the most fun thing you do all summer and also the most exhausting. In the famous words of then four year old Sawyer one final day of Vacation Bible School, when I am done with VBS, “my hair is tired.” I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a more perfect description of how one feels on that last day of a long week of over-the-top enthusiasm and  Holy Spirit-inspired patience. Maybe it’s the consecutive days of restraint that is really what so completely wears out a VBS worker.

This was Adelade’s first year to be a VBS volunteer. She effectively graduated from Vacation Bible School last year, after years of loving every second of it. It was sad for me, thinking about how quickly the time goes, about how she had passed a milestone that we could never really return to–the days when she would wake up with the sun, smiling before her eyes were even open, ecstatic in the first seconds of consciousness because she knew it was a VBS day.

This year I watched as her long and lean frame took the stage, helping lead the children as they sang and learned the motions to the fun music. For the most part I didn’t think much about it. Her enthusiasm was still off the charts. Her smile never waned. She was having great fun. But then in one, tiny mama moment, I stood at the back of the sanctuary, watching one of the more mischeivous boys from my class walk, no, run, no, tumble to the bathroom, and I was mesmerized by my first-born daughter, standing there at the front of the room. It was only a few seconds before the spell was broken by the tumbleweed of a boy who was barrelling toward the restroom. But, in those seconds I felt like I was seeing the beginnings of who Adelade really is and who she is to be.

The next day I sat with my rowdy little class and watched them listen intently while she taught them about the hope we have in Christ. She was so sincere, so true and sure as she spoke of the love of Jesus, and I found renewed hope in my Savior just by watching what He is doing in my dear little girl.

Thirteen years old. Vacation Bible looks different now. It looks like a lanky teenager and braces and teacher break room privileges for my own little Adelade. And as her faith and understanding grows, I’m learning that a merciful by-product is the growth of my own faith and understanding, just watching in awe while Jesus forms her into a girl after his own heart.

This week she managed to meet David Platt. When she spotted him in the hallway of a huge convention center, she gasped. She literally gasped. The president of the International Mission Board was standing right in front of her. So, she smiled up at him with that silver-bracketed precious grin that turns up at the corners. They talked about seventh grade and Secret Church, and she walked away encouraged.

And tonight she came through the door with red eyes, tears still flowing as she tried to explain things that words don’t quite have the capacity to express. She had prayed over young missionaries at their commissioning service, and all the while God was speaking to her own heart. The same David Platt who had been so kind to her yesterday was now on a big platform, speaking about calling and mission and the way that the Holy Spirit will sometimes grab you so tightly that you run out of vocabulary to describe what it feels like.

And in all of this she grows. She changes in ways that I never could have predicted back on those simple summer mornings when she awoke with a grin and a VBS song in her heart. And I change, too. I learn how much more she belongs to Christ than to me. I learn to bind my wandering heart to a Savior who calls little girls and makes them courageous Christ-followers. I learn to loosen my grip on my teary-eyed, God-gripped daughter, remembering once again that God’s hand is sufficient.  I will trust His hold on us. He is good, and He is working here.

Maybe Women are Some of the Worst Offenders

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Today I sat in a clean, cheery room while an orthodontist expertly fitted shiny little brackets to my daughter’s teeth. This is a place where beautiful smiles are made. Where we get as close as we can to perfection, at least in the arena of our kids’ teeth. Just yesterday, my little girl, a tender thirteen years old, furrowed her smooth brow with concern over how these braces would change her appearance. I knew she wondered if she would look weird or look awkward or look like someone who deserves ridicule. I knew it because I have felt it, too. The constant pressure to look a certain way. The never-ending squeeze on your heart that says you must be acceptable. That you must be worthy of approval.

As I sat nearby, I checked the internet to see what people are discussing today. It’s no surprise that Meghan Markle and her royal wedding are all the rage on social media, as we Americans seem fairly obsessed with royalty and giant weddings and love stories. Put the three together and it’s a recipe for an internet deluge. And in the mix of all of the superlatives surrounding the newest duchess’s big day, I saw it there, too: pressure from the heavy weight of public opinion. These days it isn’t even public opinion that is the real heart crusher. It’s the many, many public opinions. It’s a world where opinions are constantly spewing out of us like red hot blood from a deep wound. And, Meghan Markle hears the world speak. So does my wide-eyed first born daughter. And so do I.

Certain men have sewn devastating colors into the fabric of womanhood. They have ripped through the threads of what God created us to be, and they have decided that we have less purpose and less value and less soul, maybe. They have decided that there is no real beauty, only empty bodies that exist to be crushed by the will of a man.

Yet, in the middle of all of the outcry in the past couple of years, in the midst of all of the words that needed to be said and all of the realities that are coming out that are still showing us how very deep and abiding this men and women problem really is, we have missed one of the most devastating realities of our time. One of the main reasons that women are viewed as objects, as heartless, soulless, and mindless bodies to use and abuse is this: women speak of other women as if it is true.

Just ask the new Duchess of Sussex. Ask her about the thousands and thousands of women who, while witnessing her marriage ceremony, could only speak of her makeup, her clothing, and her hair. Ask her how many people took to the internet to vomit their opinions about her face and her body. Ask her how many cruel words were spoken about the way her eyebrows were shaped. Ask her what it’s like to be a stunningly beautiful woman in our world, and I’d wager that you’d hear it in her voice. You would feel a heart-sick sinking inside of her as she thinks of all of the hateful women who care nothing for her soul or her mind, who only want to talk about her “bad” makeup. Who want to see her humiliated because, like certain men, they only see her as something to see and not someone to know or to love or to cherish. They don’t look at her and see a person. They look at her and see a body.

These same women, who are utterly blind to their true opinion of what we are worth, will decry those certain men, and all men (for good measure), simply choosing not to admit that we are just as quick to reduce a woman to her dress size or bra size as any man. This sickness goes well beyond the males of our species.

From my perch in the orthodontist’s office, I watched as all of the tiny silver brackets were attached decidedly to the teeth that I have seen grow in through years of losses and gains. Kids’ mouths go through plenty of phases. For just a moment I pictured the Easter when her grin was punctuated by a huge gap where her two front teeth had once been. Now, here she was, years later, her long and lean frame stretched across a dental chair as the too-bright light illuminated her new silver-accented smile. I watched as the final rubber band was snapped into place and the chair slowly sat her up, her face flushed as she adjusted to the feeling of the metal in her mouth.

She grinned at me gingerly, unsure. Vulnerable.

In that moment all I could think about is how this girl is so much more than a smile. She is so much more than a number on the scale or a piece of flesh to be ogled. I know this is so because I know her. I can easily live in a state of awe at her heart and soul and her purpose as a child of God. I can be continually amazed by what is in her mind and how her imagination fires up a million stories at a time. I can be captivated by her creativity and her tenderness.

Inside all women’s bodies are who they really are. We are right to call men to account for their sins in this area. But, how can we ignore the fact that women, too, are among the worst offenders? We, who are so keenly aware of all that exists inside the shell of a woman. We are so easily tempted to talk and think as if the sum of a woman is what she looks like. Let us remember that all women are as real and deep and beautiful as a tender thirteen year old in her brand new braces, smiling at us with a hint of hope, vulnerable. What will we do with this woman’s soul? I pray we won’t cast it aside in favor of discussing all of the details of her body. What a waste. What a crime. What a devastating reduction of what God has so fearfully and wonderfully made.

We walked out of the orthodontist’s office, my very first baby and me, and we laughed into the sunshine of the second day of summer. Her eyes still held a question as she ducked into the car. I told her the truth: she is absolutely beautiful.  All of her.

Hello Bible Review: A Subscription Box for Families

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If you’ve read my blog or listened to our podcasts, you know that Chad and I are always on the lookout for different ways to teach our kids about Christ and the Christian life. I also love to bring things to you that I think will help spiritually grow your family. When I was contacted by a company called Hello Bible, I was excited to try out their subscription box, which their website hails as “a fun way to teach kids the Bible.”

The subscription box craze now covers everything from dog toys to snacks. I’ve subscribed to a few different services, and it’s a lot of fun to get a surprise package in the mail every so often. My kids were really excited when Hello Bible arrived, and anytime kids get excited about learning from the Bible, that’s a really good thing.

Our box was about Abraham and Sarah. It came with a short children’s book, a curriculum with all kinds of ways to guide discussion and prayer times, fun family activities to do, and two crafts. I will tell you right up front that Hello Bible is heavy on the crafts. If you are a crafty mother or grandmother, you will really enjoy that aspect of these boxes. The awesome thing is that everything you need in order to create the craft, from glue to hole punches to string to cool paper is in the box for you. The only thing we really had to provide was a pair of scissors.

Here’s my knock on the crafts. One of them was so involved and difficult to create that I ended up making the whole thing. It was a cute craft, a little string of lantern-type lights to remind the kids of the stars in the sky on the night God made his promise to Abraham. But, it was really difficult to do almost every step of it. So, in the end, the kids had to let me do most of it. The other craft was a journal scrapbook with different assignments for each page. These crafts were cute and the kids enjoyed making the scrapbook.

Another element of the boxes that I really appreciate is the scripture memory card. Your first box comes with a magnet for holding your scripture memory card on the refrigerator each month. It’s such an easy way to practice the verse, as you and your kids are walking past the card several times a day.

There are several subscription options with Hello Bible. I see this as a really neat thing for grandmothers to have on hand when their grandkids come to visit. Homeschooling mothers could also make great use out of this service. You could even build a whole unit around the theme of each box. There are plenty of resources in the Hello Bible box to extend the teaching into a month-long unit. And, if  you feel that the box is missing some theological elements that you wish were there, you can supplement the materials with your own teaching resources and ideas. Basically, Hello Bible is a great jumping off place for deeper discussions about the Bible, what it means, and how it applies.

You have the option to extend your box for multiple children. Sawyer and Emerald had no problem sharing the contents of our box, even alternating pages to make in their scrapbook. So, if you have two or three kids, it would probably be possible to for them to make the craft together. Or, if you would prefer that they all have their own craft supplies, then it’s nice that the option is there to expand your box to accommodate your kiddos.

Another neat element of Hello Bible is that 5% of the cost of each box is donated directly to a child in Kenya through the Kilgoris Project. They work with local leaders and families to operate schools, provide daily food and clean water, and foster economic development in the Maasai Village of Southwest Kenya.

Our family enjoyed our Hello Bible box, and I think yours will, too. The age recommendation, by the way, goes up to about 3rd grade. But, Sawyer, who is a 4th grader, seemed to have just as much fun as my kindergartner did. Hello Bible is a simple way to get your family in the word, so if this is something you have been struggling with or feeling a little lost on, I would recommend that you give Hello Bible a try. No curriculum is perfect, but even though the crafts weren’t completely my cup of tea, our box provided a great opportunity to talk about the Bible and why it matters. Every family can benefit from that. And, you crafty women out there will have a lot of fun with the crafts!

Use the code MOM5 to get $5 off your first box!

Are You in the Wrong Airport?

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He was the type of man who knew how to pack a week’s worth of clothing in one small backpack. He stood in line impatiently, a seasoned traveler, waiting for his opportunity to check in for his flight and move on with his day. I saw him strut up to the counter, passport in hand, confident that it would be a smooth experience. From my vantage point I could tell right away that there was a problem. The airline employee’s brow furrowed. Did you make this reservation yourself? she asked. He seemed puzzled as he assured her that he had made the reservation. His passport still hung in the air, looking exotic in his hand with its stamps from around the world.

Her eyes never left her computer screen. You’re at the wrong airport. She said it in a matter-of-fact way, with authority. He had scheduled a flight out of a different airport in the city, and then he had expertly packed his things and confidently driven to the wrong place, where no flights to exotic spots were leaving at the moment. His shoulders slumped. His passport fell to the counter like a wounded butterfly.

His posture said he had never felt so stupid in all of his life.

He turned to leave, his expertly packed backpack flung over one limp shoulder, still shocked that he had made such a terrible mistake, bleary-eyed as he considered all it would take for him to get to the other airport in time for his fast-approaching flight.

The truth is that by this time there was probably no fixing his error. He hadn’t realized until it was too late that he had been following the wrong agenda all along–even though he looked the part, he wasn’t as much of an expert as he had imagined. And now he was deeply regretting his huge mistake.

As I watched him go, I wondered how many Christian parents might someday find themselves in a similar situation. Parents who prioritized everything but Jesus. Who made sure that their kids were at every sporting event and every band concert and every dance recital, but who figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if they couldn’t make it to church on most Sundays.

Parents who made sure to talk about politics and self-esteem and safe sex, but who figured that their kids were getting all the Jesus talk that they needed in Sunday school, on the days when they managed to get them there. Parents who chose to live as if their faith only mattered when it was convenient. Who wanted their kids to have Christian values but never taught them that God’s way is the best way to live. Parents who felt confident that they were giving their kids the best possible life, the most coveted opportunities, the most discipline. Parents who told themselves that their lukewarm Christianity was enough. That their family would be okay in the end.

And then one day they look up, and their children have grown into adults with no interest in Christ. With no spiritual foundation to build on. With the values of a God-hating world. These parents who have invested their lives in their children realize in that awful moment that they were actually in the wrong airport all along. They looked like the greatest parents. They did a lot of things right. But it turned out that none of it really mattered. Just like the expert traveler, they had made one very grave mistake: they had failed to make Christ the starting point. They had built a life itinerary for their children that excluded the entire reason that life matters. They made it all about baseball and theater and music, popularity and name brands and cars and colleges. They had invested all of their time and money and resources in ways that made their children believe that what matters is what doesn’t last, and that what is eternal isn’t worth thinking about.

Imagine how badly parents who are true Christians will want to take it all back when they realize how quickly the years have passed. How all of the training in godliness that they planned to do one of these days just never got done. Imagine how they will grieve when they are standing there, taking in the awful truth that their chance to influence their kids has passed, and that the godless adults who are now standing before them are actually a direct result of their influence.

Since the day I watched the expert traveler’s painful moment unfold, I have often wondered if he ever made it to the right airport. I hope he got to add another stamp to his impressive passport. If there is one thing he needed that day, it was the chance to start over.

Maybe you need the same chance. Today is the day to gain eternal perspective. Where are you investing your life? Where are you leading your kids?

For the Love of Discipline: Sara Wallace and Parenting Through the Gospel

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Sara Wallace is a church planting pastor’s wife and a mother of five (!) little boys. When she writes about parenting, I sit up and listen because she has great ideas for helping kids learn the power of the gospel through discipline. She recently did a social media parenting series, and I’m here to tell you that her strategies are thoughtful and they work! I’m happy to welcome her to the blog today to introduce you to her upcoming book. You can catch Sara at her blog, The Gospel-Centered Mom.

Dear Tired, Worn-Out Mom Who Hates Discipline: You’re Not Alone.

“I’m doing it wrong. This isn’t working.”

From the moment we hold our sweet babies in our arms these thoughts waste no time creeping in. I remember having these thoughts when I first started nursing and the first time I buckled a floppy newborn into a car seat. They haunted me during sleep training, potty-training, and picking gum out of toddler hair.

All of those things have a way of eventually working themselves out. We survive, life moves on. But when it comes to discipline, those thoughts don’t want to let go. “I’m doing it wrong. This isn’t working.” Perhaps that’s because nothing brings out our frustration and doubts about our parenting like discipline. We know we’re supposed to be training these little hearts, but we didn’t expect it to be so hard.  

I clearly remember a day that I disciplined my three-year-old for throwing a toy in anger. I told him to sit on his bed and think about what we learned about self-control. Situation over, discipline nailed. Right? Not so much. He turned around and said, “No. I will NOT think about ANYTHING.”

Oh, boy. I realized then and there that discipline is not something I can check off my to-do list. It’s an inseparable part of daily parenting – whether I like it or not. After having five boys in exactly seven years, I realized discipline was a train I was not getting off anytime soon.

But at the same time God began showing me that that’s a good thing. I not only want to stay on this train, I want to ride it all the way to its final destination: my kids’ hearts. Discipline allows me to connect with my kids in a personal, precious way. Most importantly, discipline lays the foundation for teaching my kids the gospel.

And now I want to come alongside you parents with a personal and embarrassingly raw account of what God has taught me about the “D” word. What does discipline have to do with the gospel? Theology is wonderful—but how does it help me with my screaming two-year-old in the middle of WalMart? How do we strike the balance between too much discipline and too little, especially when we are exhausted and discouraged?

I didn’t write this book because discipline comes naturally to me. I wrote it because my kid pushed your kid into the pool at swim lessons. I wrote it because last week I had to leave the grocery store early when my kids were wrestling in the aisles. And I wrote it because discipline seems exhausting and discouraging only when we leave out the most important ingredient: the gospel.

If you’re looking for a formula that will turn disobedient kids into perfect little angels, you won’t find it. God doesn’t give us a formula. He gives us principles. The Holy Spirit gives us wisdom to use those principles to point our kids to Christ. When your kids disobey, they are telling you something. Strain your ears to hear past the tantrums, the rebellious stomping, and the disrespectful tone. They are saying, “Mom . . . I don’t know how to obey on my own. Can you help me?”

This is our time. This is our chance to point our kids to the only thing that matters: the gospel. God has given us the task of discipline not just so we can survive today but to lead our kids to the cross. Discipline is a beautiful privilege and I want to show you how to find joy in it. There is so much more to discipline than creative strategies, checklists, and behavior management. There’s Jesus.

For the Love of Discipline: When the Gospel Meets Tantrums and Time-Outs will be released April 30th. Preorder yours on Amazon today!

Sara Wallace is a wife, author, and stay-at-home mom. She and her family live in Idaho where they minister in their church plant and homeschool their five little boys. Sara loves to cook, decorate her home, and write about the crazy blessing of parenting. 

Be a Mama Who Prays

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Imagine you are living in a kingdom where the king has ultimate control over your child’s life. He will decide who your child will be, where she will go, who she will associate with. And, because He is a good, kind, wise king, he allows you 24 hour access to his chamber, where you can come to tell him everything that you would like to see happen in your child’s life. You can ask for all kinds of crazy, unlikely, wild, and wonderful things for your child, and the king will listen to your requests.

Wouldn’t you run to his chamber a lot? Wouldn’t you practically be a fixture there, asking him to help your child, to guide her, to grow her, to keep her on the right path?

The truth is that this is the kingdom we live in. Only our king is also our loving Father, who adores our children more than we do. I wonder why we are so slow to come to Him on their behalf?

Why do we fret and worry and pace and cry and moan instead of running to the King’s chamber? Why do we scheme and try to figure out ways that we can fix our kids or ways that we can change their situation? Why do we endlessly wish for good things for our children, forgetting that we have free, unfettered access to the One who told us that if we ask according to his will, we will receive?

There’s a difference between wishing and praying. There’s a difference between crossing your fingers, hoping everything turns out and turning to the God of the Universe, praying that He will move. We can want plenty of good things for our children. We can long to see them rescued by God. We can be desperate to see them change and grow and know Him more. But, when we don’t take the time to earnestly pray about these things, we are wasting the precious privilege of crying out to God on behalf of our children.

Our children will face a lot of uncertainties in this life. They will be unsure of many things. But, when they are old and bent, looking back over a long, sometimes troubled, sometimes glorious life, may they be able to say with all certainty, One thing I always knew: my mama was praying for me.

We have no way of estimating what kind of eternal echoes that prayers for our children can create. How many Christian people have been carried through on the prayers of their dear mothers? Only God knows. Let’s be praying mamas, and one day when we are standing there in front of our King, we’ll feel right at home, having run to His chamber so many times before, and we’ll continue a long and sweet conversation with our good Father.

You Don’t Have to Give Your Kid a Phone

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“My daughter is thirteen years old, and she doesn’t have a cell phone.”

I said those words from the platform at a women’s event and was surprised at the sharp intake of breath all over the room.  I am not naive enough to think that my daughter isn’t a bit of an anomaly. I know that most kids her age are already well versed in the ways of social media, texting, and the big world that a cell phone provides. I know that when she leaves school for the day, dozens of conversations are happening via Instagram, Snapchat, and text that she isn’t privvy to and that she doesn’t ever learn about, except when they are hinted at at the lunch table, where she simply smiles and nods even though she is probably somewhat lost as to what ideas transpired between her friends at ten o’clock the night before.

But, it does surprise me to learn that many parents feel that they don’t have the option to hold off on providing a cell phone for their kids. The day that I made my shocking confession, the attitude of the fellow moms in the room seemed to be: You can DO that?

Why yes, you can.

And I would argue that in most cases you should.

Now, before you start thinking that our children are living in the dark ages, we do have electricity and running water. And our two older kids have iPods. They don’t have internet access or texting privileges with their friends, but they are allowed to FaceTime and text their grandparents and cousins.  They play games on their iPods and make movies and learn to take and edit photos and generally get a lot of fun benefits of technology through their devices. I’m not anti-technology. But, I am a believer in the benefits of sheltering my kids from social media and unfettered internet access. Yes, I said sheltering. Contrary to popular opinion, kids do need sheltering from some things.

A few days ago a couple of moms with younger kids asked me about our oldest’s cell phone, and when I told them that she doesn’t have one they said, “We were hoping you could tell us how you navigate the whole technology and social media world with your kids.” So, this post isn’t really for the parents whose kids already have a phone, although I hope that it will help you think through some of the issues associated with phone use. It’s for those of you who are wondering how you are going to approach this subject with your kids when they get older. Essentially, I’m going to explain some reasons that Chad and I have decided to delay our kids’ access to phones.

1. The Internet is a huge world full of strangers who can step into your home without your invitation.

Many times we have a false sense of security about the internet. We think of it as a tool when the reality is that it is an enormous collection of people that we do not know. I would never encourage my kids to go find a stranger at the grocery store and hang out in a private room with him, but in many cases this is what the internet leads our kids to do. It can be a very dangerous place where predators and people with bad intentions can learn all kinds of information about our kids. It can be a place where people we don’t know can have tremendous influence over our kids’ thinking and feelings.

When we present phones to our kids, we expect them to try to navigate this complicated online world before they have the cognitive abilities to make sound decisions. Studies show that their brains are literally underdeveloped in terms of decision-making until they are around age 25. So, imagine how inept a fifth or sixth grader’s brain is at understanding how to react to the various situations that could arise in the huge internet world filled with strangers.

2. The internet is a big world of people your child knows who can step into your home without your invitation.

When you are a middle schooler, no world seems bigger than the one you’re living through in the seventh or eighth grade. Phones allow that world to have access to kids 24 hours a day. I like the fact that my home is a sanctuary for my kids. The only kids allowed within these walls are those kids that I invite, and that is important for the mental and emotional health of my children.

If they were to have a terrible problem with someone at school, if they had an issue with a bully or a group of “friends” who has suddenly turned on them, if something embarrassing were to happen at school that day, my kids know that when they walk to my car as the bell rings, they are free from all of that, at least until the next morning when they set foot back on campus. They don’t have to worry about the bullying following them home. They don’t have to worry about receiving mean texts or having someone post something horrible on their social media accounts.

Even if there are no issues at school, if there is absolutely no drama happening, I enjoy knowing that school and daytime hours are for friends and after school and nighttime hours are for our family. Your child’s time at home needs more protecting than you probably realize. Constant socializing on the internet is leading to all kinds of problems in kids, including lack of sleep, depression, and even suicidal thoughts. They don’t need constant connection with everyone. They need a real connection with their family at the end of each day. Phones make that harder to accomplish.

3. The internet encourages kids to brand themselves.

I’m always running across funny collections of terribly photo-shopped pictures that teenagers have put on the internet. It makes us laugh, but the truth is that kids feel pressure to create a certain image of themselves on social media. It’s the same reason that so many take and post ten selfies a day. They are looking for approval and are trying to build a brand. They want their name to be associated with beauty or fitness or sexiness or casual coolness or whatever it is that they think will gain them likes and followers and the attention that they crave.

For kids, the work of figuring out who they are and who they are striving to be is only complicated by social media. They can become obsessed with themselves, their image, their approval ratings. And the last thing a middle schooler needs help with is being obsessed with herself. Delaying the dive into social media gives kids a chance to grow an understanding that the internet is not real life. It can be a fun place to play, but not a place to live. And if we give our kids more time to develop a real sense of themselves, of who they are and what their own standards are, then they are less likely to become obsessed with how they are seen on social media. They won’t see themselves as a brand but as an authentic person who is much more than a one dimensional image on a screen.

4. The internet is where porn lives.

It practically goes without saying that pornography is a huge issue with phones, and one that isn’t taken seriously enough. Some studies now suggest that the average age of first exposure to porn is nine years old. Third grade. I’m in no rush to put that industry into the hands of my children, even with filters and accountability software, especially since pornographers are actively targeting kids to ensure that their industry continues to thrive. Pornography addiction deeply affects the brain, body, heart and spirit, and phones are the easiest way for the industry to reach kids, either through their own phones or through someone else’s.

There are so many other issues that I haven’t touched on here, but these are a few of the reasons that Chad and I are waiting to provide a phone to our oldest daughter. I don’t know when we will feel that the time has come, but I pray that she will have time to grow in Christ, learning her own heart and mind, before she delves into the social media realm. I pray that she will develop decision-making skills that will help her not to be enticed by requests for photos. That will give her wisdom that keeps her from texting things about people that she will later regret. I pray that she will learn to be led by the Spirit instead of being led by an obsession with self or an obsession with the approval of others.

I know many of you reading this have given your kids phones and have done so with great foresight and discernment. I know that many of you have safeguards in place and monitor your child’s phone usage and are beautifully navigating the internet world with your kids. Those of us who aren’t there yet will need lots of guidance from you.

To those who have younger kids, I ask you to consider some of my reasons for holding off on giving our kids phones. You don’t have to hand your child a phone just because others do. I’m convinced there are great benefits in waiting until kids have matured a little, have grown in their relationship with Christ a little more, have a firmer grasp of who they are and what they believe, before they really need to be grappling with the complicated world of the internet. Life is simpler without that constant din of the world in your kid’s pocket. I’m in no rush to invite the noise in.

When God Calls You to Nowhere

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For eighteen days I have been in my house, fighting off multiple illnesses in my three children. It has been an unprecedented experience, unequaled in all of my years of motherhood, and I’m ready for its end. It’s been a crazy flu year in Texas. Otherwise healthy, strong, young people have died due to complications, and I have spent all of February watching my kids carefully, waking up multiple times a night to check on whichever one I felt was most likely to be dying. It has been exhausting and stressful and has brought me to my knees more than once.

As I write this I still have one here with me, the second one to get the dreaded flu, which was followed by a sinus infection, which was followed by what the doctor believes is another round of a different strain of the flu. It’s been so rampant here that the clinic and hospital are out of flu screens, so we can only guess as to which virus has struck her down again. It all sounds very dramatic, but in truth this entire month has been spent playing a million rounds of Uno, watching a zillion movies that star preteens, and scrounging for food in a nearly bare refrigerator. In short, the month of February has completely passed me by.

The fact is that I had big plans for my month. I was going to get a lot of writing accomplished. I was going to keep regular work hours and really dig into some projects and enter March feeling like I had done some good thinking, some good writing, making good progress on the things I feel like God is calling me to do. I didn’t do any of that.

But it isn’t because I haven’t been fulfilling my calling.

Proverbs 16:9 tell us that in her heart a woman may plan her course, but the Lord determines her steps. I thought my big work for the month of February would be related to my writing, but God reminded me in the past 18 days that I have been blessed with the privilege of being Adelade, Sawyer, and Emerald’s only mother. And, that is the ultimate calling in this phase of my life. It is a job that will chew you up and spit you out, that will leave you weeping from exhaustion, that will cause you to wring your hands when the coughing won’t stop, that will find you sneaking into rooms just to count the number of breaths that a child is taking. February has been long and trying and has caused me to lean heavily on my Savior, has forced me to pray for my children with a passion that I sometimes lack, has helped me to see that sometimes big work is little: drinks of water in a special princess cup, lists of medicine schedules, letting snuggly children cough in your face.

The Lord determines our steps, and this month they went a whole bunch of nowhere. Yet, somehow I found my Jesus there, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the mess, in the middle of the great honor and blessing of motherhood. The hardest days are the ones that drive me straight into His arms. And that is never a bad thing. I’m thankful that’s where He’s led me in the month of February. Maybe in March He’ll let me go to the grocery store.

He is so good to show Himself to me during flu season and during every season. His love never changes, never stops reaching for us, never gives up on us in our busy-ness. I am so grateful for the calling of being a mother, for the calling of being a wife, for the calling of being a writer. I trust His timing and His plan for all the seasons, flu or otherwise. He is good, and I love Him more at February’s end than I did at its beginning. He is love, He is healing, and He is peace.

Mother of Sorrows

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They say that a mother is only as happy as her saddest child. In my experience this is 100% true. How many times have I searched the faces of my children, wondering how they are feeling? Trying to gauge how hurt or disappointed or discouraged they are? How many times have I cried hot tears after they were in bed, lamenting some injustice or some heartbreak that has come their way?

Recently I stood in a hallway with a friend while her tears flowed, and she was powerless to make them stop. She was hurting for her little girl, and no amount of cheery Christmas decor or friendly hugs or knowing, sympathetic smiles was going to make her feel better. She was feeling deeply for her daughter, and it hurt. It hurt worse than if she had been wounded herself. The day our children are born we are introduced to a different kind of pain–the kind that knocks the breath out of us in one fail swoop as we realize we cannot protect our children from some things. The kind that makes us fall on our knees and beg God to help our children, to save them, to change them, to bring them peace, to bring them joy. The kind that breaks a mother’s heart into a million tiny pieces.

Mary was only a little over a month into motherhood, still glowing from the glorious evening of angels and shepherds and a lowly manger that turned out to be just perfect somehow, when she got a hint from God that heartbreak awaited her. She was taking her little family to the temple for the first time since giving birth, and they were greeted by an old man, a stranger. He rejoiced when he saw Jesus, little Messiah so desperately hoped for for so many years. He told Joseph and Mary things that had been revealed to him by God, and then he looked into Mary’s eyes and gave her a hard truth: …and a sword will pierce your own soul. (Luke 2:35)

Luke doesn’t tell us what Mary’s reaction was to this jarring statement. He doesn’t paint a picture of her questioning Simeon, peppering him with anxious inquiries. As far as we know, she tucked this information away in her heart as she did on that very first night when the shepherds came running down from the hills. But, there is no doubt that Mary eventually learned exactly what Simeon had been talking about.

As she watched her son grow in favor with God and men, only to see Him later ridiculed by the people of his own hometown. As she saw people crowd around Him, demanding so much, needing so much, hurting so much, driving him to exhaustion in his humanness. As she stood outside of a house with his brothers, sending for him, wanting so badly to take him home with her where she could take care of him. As she watched religious leaders plot against him. And eventually she stood at the foot of that cruel instrument of torture and death, the cross, and watched her firstborn son struggle and gasp and cry out and die.

How a stranger’s words must have echoed in her ears as she stood there, feeling as if she would never survive this moment, struggling to breathe, wishing her own heart would stop beating, too. If ever there was a day when a mother’s soul was completely run through, this was it.

Jesus, her miraculous God man, her firstborn child, one who began with the rejoicing of angels and ended with the weeping of all Heaven, was dead. Man of Sorrows. And, Mary, his mother, could only be described as a Mother of Sorrows, too, because she felt every insult, every blow, every tricky sarcastic remark, every doubt. She felt all of Jesus’ temptation and dread and disappointment and heartache. Every swing of the hammer on that dark day sent a spike through her own shattered heart.

God with us. Emmanuel. Gone. Mary’s world went quiet. And she walked away with heavy steps, tearing herself, wounded and weary, away from the scene of her son’s agony.

The Bible doesn’t tell us what the next few days were like for this Mother of Sorrows. But, we can imagine that she was grieved. Pained. Anguished. The sorrow must have felt like it would bury her forever. By the time Jesus made his first appearance to his followers, alive, healed, and glorious, Mary must have already died a thousand deaths herself, reliving the crucifixion in her mother’s heart. Imagine how she jumped and shouted and laughed and cried tears of relief when she heard the news: Her precious son was alive!

We don’t know if Mary ever saw Jesus again on this earth. We don’t know if they ever sat down and talked about everything that had happened. We don’t know if she ever dampened his shoulder with her tears of joy.

What we do know is that God dealt tenderly with this daughter of his. We know that he sent her angels and prophets and devoted friends. We know that he took the time to prepare her heart for the many sorrows she would face. We know that he gave her the faith to trust him, even when things were as bad as they could get. We know that he gave her more than any one woman could possibly handle. Then he carried her through it all, with might and grace and gentleness.

As a mother you may be going through a sorrowful time. You may be feeling weak and weary and like you will never survive this phase of life. You may feel like your soul has been pierced over and over again, and that you will never, ever be able to recover. But, if you know this Jesus, Mary’s son, the Son of God, the Word in the Flesh, then you are never without hope. He is alive, and He is as real as the pain you are feeling. Jesus is so much more than a baby in a manger. He is the Savior of the world, and he can rescue you from your shattered heart, your wounded soul, your anxiety, your grief, your utter disappointment.

Emmanuel. God with us. God with you, mama. God so clearly shows us in his word that he understands the agony that mothers will go through. Motherhood is all at once the most unspeakable joy and the most devastating heartache. He will carry you through every moment, just like he did his own dear, chosen girl, Mary, Mother of Sorrows. Look to his goodness. Look to his love. He is here, at Christmas and always.

Now all this took place to fulfill what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child and shall bear a son, and they shall call His name Emmanuel,” which translated means, “God with us.” Matthew 1:22-23

Make Christmas a Starting Place, Not a Dead End

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Something happens in Christian families around the holidays. Everyone starts looking for advent resources. We get online and buy books about baby Jesus. We start googling creative ways to make Christmas about Him instead of about presents. We decide to start new traditions, like reading the Christmas story from the Bible beside the Christmas tree. We put as many nativity sets as possible in our house, and we try to find Spotify lists that are heavy on carols about the manger.

We know that we want Christmas to mainly be about Jesus. Yet, we also want it to be about presents. And family. And food. And decorations. And Christmas movies. It’s wonderful to focus as much as possible on Jesus and the deep, true, forever impact that the birth of Christ has on everything. In fact, it’s essential. We should do that as much as possible throughout this season. But, what really matters is not how much we talk about Jesus during December. What will make an eternal impact on our families is how much we talk about Jesus during all the other months of the year. What matters is whether we are living out this faith in regular, every day life.

Does Jesus have any other place in your family’s life, or is He reserved just for the manger?

Are you deeply involved with a local church, where your children are learning and growing in His word? Are you serving others through your church family so that your children see what true Christianity is? Are you allowing God’s word to impact the decisions you make, the conversations you have, the spending you do, the ordering of your priorities?

Is December the only time you talk to your children about spiritual things?

How many of us, when we put our tree away and begin a new year, will forget all about the zeal we had during the Christmas season for teaching our kids about Christ?

It doesn’t have to be that way. Instead of making Christmas just another spiritual dead end, what if we used it as a crucial, beautiful, world-altering starting place for a life that revolves around Jesus? What if we prayed and asked God to revive our hearts this Christmas, to restore the joy of our salvation? What if this Christmas Jesus brought real and lasting revival to our own hearts, our families, our churches? What if this is the very good beginning of a changed life, one where we and our our children and our children’s children will see the impact of true devotion to Christ alter everything about us?

It will mean an invasion of our hearts and minds. A no holds barred attack on the sin in our own lives. It will mean giving up entertainment and activities that are separating us from Christ. It will mean sacrificial living.

But, it will all be worth it. We want our children to be able to stand before Jesus and hear those precious words: Well done, my good and faithful servant. It begins with us. How are we helping to get them to that moment? What are we placing as a higher priority? Sports? Sleeping in? Money? Everything else seems ridiculous when compared to an eternity with the King of Kings. Our kids need to know there’s more to Christ than a sweet little baby on a bed of hay. We have to get them beyond the Christmas story. We have to show them though our own lives and through the church and through His perfect word that He is mighty and merciful, and everything about Him can change everything about us.

Do your advent calendars and your Jesse trees and your nightly reading of the Christmas story. But, don’t stop there. When January rolls around, will your kids be able to look back at Christmas and recognize it as the beginning of a Jesus-focused life for your family? Or will it look like yet another spiritual dead end?

We are the last people on this Earth who should be walking our kids down spiritual roads that lead nowhere. Run to Christ and watch your little ones follow. Abundant life and eternal hope are the sweetest gifts of all.

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