Your Mom Has A Blog

Marriage Wounds

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The year was 1998, and Chad Edgington had decided he wanted to marry me. He scrimped and saved and schemed to buy a little diamond, and he delivered it, delicately, to a pair of brothers he knew in Nashville who were jewelry makers. He had a vision for what he wanted it to look like, and he left his words of instruction and his precious, hard-fought diamond in their care to wait and see what they would create.

The result was a never before like it or after it, truly unique, hand-crafted golden ring. It is beautiful. And, I have always felt like its unique beauty is a fair representation of the love that I have had for this boy for the past twenty years of my life.

The truth is that most days I hardly even notice the ring on my hand. But, a few days ago I looked down and realized that somehow in the course of my work, my ring had gotten knocked against my finger and had left a small cut there, hidden underneath the beautiful gold, a scar on the delicate-looking redhead’s fair flesh of my left hand. I was surprised to see it there, because in all of these years of dealing with babies and a mother’s work, I never remember my ring doing such a thing. But, there it was. A wound inflicted by the very symbol of never-ending love between a man and a woman.

I sat there for a moment and stared at my hand. It didn’t look compatible, the lovely gold set alongside the ugly gash on my freckled finger. But, I don’t know that I have ever seen a clearer picture of how marriage is an exquisitely painful, sacred journey of sanctification. Having a spouse is like living with a mirror that constantly shows you where you are weak, where you are prideful, and how in desperate need of a Savior you really are. Chad and I never could have known, all those years ago when he slipped this ring on my finger, how much joy would really be in it or how much heartbreak. Jesus put a rare love in our hearts for one another, and He has used that love to wound us in the most wondrous ways. Ways that show us who we are and who we want to be. Ways that show us how likely our hearts are to falter. Ways that show us how great His love for us really is.

The mark on my finger is almost healed now. Soon it will go away, and all that will remain is the freckles and the gold and diamond that a young idealist once scrimped and sacrificed to gift to me. For half of our lives now we have loved and hurt and grown and agonized together. And still, we are idealists. Because we have learned in this life together that God can do what seems impossible. He can take two kids who only know that they are madly in love, and He can teach them how to sanctify one another, one wound at a time. He can use great pain to bring indescribable joy. He can bind up every hurt with His love and tenderness. And, He can use every scar to show the world how great He really is.

The ring on my finger is so much more than a piece of jewelry. It is hurt. It is healing. It is sacrifice and sanctification. And, it is a testimony to godly love. Marriage is the gospel in motion. We are forever changed.

Your Mom Has a Blog Podcast, Episode 30

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To celebrate our 30th episode, we invited our second most popular guest to come back: the one and only Jackson Chang! We talk about what we were doing at 30, being open, thoughts on sanctification, Jackson’s knack for getting food poisoning, and more. Thanks for listening!

Here’s Jackson’s dancing video we talk about. It was an instant classic.

Marriage is Trusting Each Other on the Winding Mountain Roads of Life

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I have always been a vivid dreamer. When I was a kid, for years I had a recurring dream about a monster in the foyer of our house. As an adult, my dreams are often about hiding from tornadoes or driving into floodwaters with my kids in the car. Every single dream seems so real that when I finally wake up in our cool, dark bedroom with Chad breathing beside me, it’s the best kind of relief.

Recently I had one of my worst dreams to date. Chad and I were on a dark, twisting road high on a mountain. I was driving, and it was raining, of course. I was struggling to see the line on the road through the steady downpour. We came to a sharp curve to the right, and I couldn’t see it. I drove off of the cliff we had been teetering on the edge of. I had the sensation of falling, though we were still strapped in by our seatbelts. We held onto each other in sheer terror, and I kept saying it over and over again: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was just waiting for the moment of impact, knowing there was nothing more I could do to save us or turn back time on my very, very wrong turn. And, all I could really think about in that terrifying, free-fall moment was how I had ruined everything, and I had taken Chad down with me.

Before you decide that I need to be psycho-analyzed, you should know that I also have quite a few dreams about aliens. So, yeah, probably need to go ahead and make that appointment.

The truth is that this terrible dream is actually a pretty good analogy for a wrecked marriage. We underestimate the weight of what we’re really doing on the day we walk down the aisle. I know when I put on a white dress at twenty-one, I wasn’t all that aware that I was actually taking my dreams, my insecurities, my issues, my fears, my entire future, and I was telling Chad and the whole world that I trust him with all of it.  And, the real miracle of the whole deal is that he was doing the same with me. We were willing to lay it all at each other’s feet and just pray to God that we were both trustworthy.

It’s a brave thing, getting married.

It doesn’t take long in marriage to figure out that we are leading each other into all kinds of things, good and bad. We take on some of the same habits. We introduce each other to our tastes, and sometimes, because we are two imperfect people with sinful tendencies, we lead each other into sin. I wonder if we realize on that day at the altar, just how much we are depending on each other for accountability, for encouragement to follow Christ, for a godly example being lived out in our home, day after day?

I wonder if we really understand how sacred the gift of that trust really is?

For Christian people, marriage should be a blessing in our lives that makes us more like Christ. It should be the difference between wandering off the side of a cliff and making it safely to the next rest stop. Seeking Christ is not a singular pursuit in marriage–it’s a joint effort. Yes, we have individual responsibility to study His word and try to know Him more. But, our marriages should make us more holy, not less. They should help us to run the race with perseverance, not distract us to the point of forgetting that we’re even running.

Dear young single Christian, consider this when you are choosing a husband or wife. Really step back and take stock: will this person help you become more like Christ through the years? Or when the steep, rocky, mountainous roads crop up, will they lead you right off of a cliff?

Married Christians, are you being the type of partner who is trustworthy to carry the burden of your spouse’s sinful tendencies? Are you committed to keeping both of you on the road to sanctification, or are you losing your way and taking your spouse with you? In a one-flesh existence, there is no such thing as “my problem” or “your problem.” We are called to share our burdens, and we both have the awesome responsibility of holding tight to each other while we hold tight to Christ.

And the glory of it all is that His grip on us never fails.

We have to start viewing our marriages as fertile ground for growth and holiness. Unless we start taking our own sin seriously, we will fail in our efforts to lead each other in the ways of Christ.

You have so much more influence on your spouse than you know. Where are you leading her? Who are you encouraging him to be? My prayer is that at the end of a long and fruitful life together, Chad and I will be able to approach the throne with all assurance that we helped each other know Christ more.

The Harmless Sins are the Most Dangerous of Them All

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Once more social media is filled with the news of Christian Grey. I watch with interest as Christian women plan evenings out that revolve around the new movie. They joke about how eager their husbands will be have them home afterward–their sexual passions stirred by an actor who isn’t their husband, portraying a twisted, cruel character who isn’t their husband. And, I suppose the prevailing attitude is that men don’t care by what means their wives get in the mood for sex, so long as they get in the mood.

But, if this is how we think of our husbands, we’re wrong. Men do care if their wives are ogling other men, even if those men are actors who live a thousand miles away in a different world. Even if lusting after a man you aren’t married to is generally considered harmless these days.

The harmless sins are the most dangerous of them all.

They are the ones we explain away with a little shrug, a wave of the hand, a joke. They are the ones we justify over and over again. They are the ones that are so easy to fall into. And, they are ones that are killing us.

But, I’m not just picking on 50 Shades of Grey. Temptation to sin is everywhere, and one thing that makes sin so appealing–one thing that convinces us that it is irresistible–is that we honestly consider most of it to be no big deal. Pornography, gossip, jealousy, hatred, dishonoring our parents, lust. All of these can seem utterly harmless to us when we are in the thick of temptation. We tell ourselves that it won’t hurt anyone, but we are wrong about that, too. Sin always hurts. We hurt ourselves and we hurt other people and we grieve God. No sin is harmless. There is always harm done. Always.

But, we aren’t left with no hope of conquering temptation, no matter how fiercely it tries to drag us into the pit. There is always a moment before sin in which we choose. That moment is where the battle for purity and holiness is won or lost, many times a day, every single day. Left to our own willpower, we would choose sin more often than not. But, if we know Christ, then we have been emboldened and empowered by the Holy Spirit to resist temptation in all its forms. If we think through all of the choices that we make in a day, we will get a fairly clear picture of what kind of faith life we’re leading. How often do we give into temptation with little or no fight? How often do we forge ahead with our sin, barely pausing to acknowledge that a real choice is being made?

Just a few days ago I started to write Chad a private message about an old acquaintance of ours. I was set to describe all of the ways that this person was annoying me on Facebook. The message was completely devoid of any kind of grace or kindness, and looked nothing at all like Jesus. Just before I made the conscious decision to hit send, the Holy Spirit miraculously opened my eyes to the fact that I had accidentally written this message to the person I was talking about. I quickly deleted the whole thing and walked away from my computer, knowing that I had just been given a precious gift of mercy that I didn’t deserve. I was horrified at the thought of this person reading what I had written. Yet, I was perfectly fine with God seeing it and with my husband seeing it, even though I knew it would likely hurt my husband spiritually and grieve my God.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen my wicked heart more clearly than in that moment.

We all make choices every day. Are we giving into temptation, or are we fighting, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to live a life that pleases God? Because, even though I was humiliated at the thought of this old friend of mine reading what I wrote about her, how can I forget that one day everything I’ve done will be made known? How can I ever feel proud of my goodness when I know how often that I very clearly choose to turn from God’s way and dive right into sin?

I’m so grateful that we have a God who can sympathize. We have a Savior who knows what temptation is like, even though He always made the right choice.  His blood was spilled for our harmless sins. But, no big deal, right?

Grace Floats

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God sends His grace floating mercifully down many different streams.  Today it came in the form of a drawing from Adelade.

Adelade drawing

I stand by the shore of His peace in the driving rain and in days as bright as the sunshine coming in through Adelade’s little hand-made window.  Always I find the bottles floating there, little ones and big ones, filled to the brim with reminders of His goodness.  With votes of confidence in what He can do in me. With hugs and kisses from my Father.

And, I need them.  Because this message speaks the truth:  being a mom is hard.  Being a Christian is hard.  Being the person I’m called to be is hard. Becoming more like Christ is hard.  But, this reality whispers to a weary soul: with Him, it can be done.  It can all be done.

My One Resolution for 2015

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Well, I’m back after a much needed and thoroughly enjoyed Christmas break.  I hope you’re back, too!  I have to admit I did worry that you would run off philandering with another girl who blogged her way through Christmas, but every once in awhile I do need to shut up, so maybe it was a much needed break for all of us.

Since we last talked a new year rolled around!  I thought by 2015 we would be enjoying those flying cars they kept promising back in the 80s.  But, here I am, still driving my minivan with the peeling paint.  Maybe before they figure out flying cars they should spend a little time developing car paint that doesn’t peel off.  And by “they,” I mean those elusive, mysterious people in the world who figure things out.  I talk about them a lot.

Every time I begin a new year, I try to get motivated to do things differently.  To be a better housekeeper.  To get organized.  To save a bunch of money.  To learn how to cook exotic things.  To listen more.  To be a better mother.  To be a kinder person.  To be a more agreeable wife.

And, every year by day two I feel like a miserable failure.  This year I even picked a fight with Chad on New Year’s Day.  Yes, you heard that right.  I ruined my resolution to be a more agreeable wife in the very first hours of this brand new shiny year.

And, honestly, I haven’t recovered yet.

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I have found myself dreading this first week of returning to real life, heading back into the routines that weigh me down, feeling discouraged and defeated before my feet even really hit the ground in this new year.  I actually spent this afternoon going through all the things that I need to do this week that I don’t want to do. Meanwhile, my house is a mess.  I have a terrible attitude.  I am the epitome of everything my normal resolutions try to ward against.

Even Downton Abbey coming back tonight isn’t enough to make me feel better.  I mean, it’s serious, y’all.

So, instead of filing this year’s resolutions under the category of every failed journal, every incomplete project, every abandoned exercise plan that I have racked up through the years, I have decided, on this fourth day of the new year, to try something different.

In 2015, I have a goal:  I will NOT follow my heart.

Yes, you read that right.  This year I will choose to ignore the lies that my heart dangles in front of me like a juicy carrot on a stick.  When my heart says to zig, I will zag.  When my heart says you don’t feel like it, I will get up and do it anyway.  When my heart says you’re never going to be good enough, I will declare that good is not my goal, but holiness is.  When my heart taunts me with all of the world-approved, ungodly ways to be a wife and a mother and a blogger and a pastor’s wife, I will reject those ways and reach for goodness, gentleness, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, and self-control.  When my heart says you deserve respect I will fall on my face in humility before God.  When my heart says you should be offended I will turn the other cheek.

And, during all of this mess of dealing with my wicked and deceitful heart, I will fail.  A lot.  People who know me will wonder what happened to this goal.  Another failure.  And, my heart will say, See?  What’s the point?  

It seems like I already know how this mission will turn out.  I will be misled by my heart, I will fall for its lies, I will grab for what I shouldn’t and I will fall on my face.  I won’t be perfect.  I won’t even be pretty good.  But, this year, I won’t trust my heart or rely on it.   I will follow Christ.  And, when I stumble, when my heart convinces me to go the wrong way, I will remember that every single time I turn around, I walk straight into the arms of God.

And, that is really my one resolution this year: to rest in His arms, trusting in His strength when I am weak and puny and much too heart-led.

So, that’s where I begin 2015.  Not feeling like a super star.  Not proud of myself.  Not convinced that I am God’s gift to the internet or to my husband or to my kids.  Just in the arms of God.  Looking at my own heart with a critical eye.  And, resolving to hear more from God and less from that deceiver that the world tells me should guide me through life.

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? Jeremiah 17:9

Are you making resolutions this year?  Anyone else fall on your face on the very first day?  I’m so thankful for a patient Savior and for understanding humans.  2015 is going to be a great year.

Slow Growing

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The two older kids started school this week, and Emerald has not been too happy about it.  Sure, she gets to rule the TV and watch nothing but Mickey Mouse if she wants, but in her heart I think she would much rather be getting up early, getting dressed in new clothes, and heading out the door to an adventure at school.

For awhile she was in denial that the kids were gone.  She was asking if Sawyer was in his room.  When I said no, that he was at school, she kept saying, “No!  He in he’s room!”

And, tonight when I put her to bed, I was telling her all about what we’re going to do tomorrow, but she just kept saying, “I go to school tomorrow, okay?”

And, I can sort of understand how she feels.  Not that I want to go to school tomorrow (please, never again), but I know how it feels to want to do things that I’m really not ready to do.  I know how it feels to want to skip steps in a process (especially the difficult ones).  I know what it feels like to want to fast forward to the wiser, more discerning, more spiritual version of myself that I pray that I will grow into in the coming years.

But, growing up isn’t an easy business.  It isn’t when you’re too little to go to school but too big for a pacifier.  Just ask Emerald.  The truth is that she has a lot to learn, a lot to deal with and go through before she finally becomes a kindergartner.  She has to potty train, to learn all her letters and numbers and colors and shapes.  She has to learn how to handle frustration and disappointment without throwing tantrums.  She has to learn how to say more words, how to communicate better with people, how to interact socially, and lots of other things.  Some of these things will be easy for her to learn, and others will be struggles.  Some things will require discipline.  And, in all of these things, she is depending on me, her daddy, and her brother and sister to help her grow and learn.

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I feel every growing pain along with her, just like I do with Sawyer and Adelade.  And, I want nothing more than to see all of them grow, even when it hurts a little bit.

Meanwhile, I’m going through similar growing pains.  I may know my letters and numbers, but I struggle to know when to speak and when to stay quiet.  I wonder what is the best way to love people.  I can’t ever seem to get my thoughts in the proper order.  I constantly fight my own pride.  I love the applause of the world too much.  And, with each mistake, with each painful misstep and every wrong motive and all of the ways that I don’t trust Him with my life, He gently leads me forward, wanting to see me grow.

I know He is working.  It isn’t always pleasant to be a work in progress.  And, there is no fast forwarding through the tough parts.

God is a father.  And, in some ways, He is like a Mama who feels every growing pain in her children.  He loves us enough to keep working at it because He wants to see us grow.

And, He is no stranger to pain.

So, when we feel the wringing out of our faith, when we are squeezed and prodded and torn down and rebuilt, when we are taking one tiny baby step after another, we can trust that God is making us more like Him.  However slow and painful the process, the God who sacrificed everything for love and mercy and forgiveness is sticking with us, is using us, and is teaching us more about His promises each and every day.

So, I say this to you, to myself, and to Emerald Darling, my youngest and wildest:  hang in there, baby.  Growing is slow.  But, it’s worth it.

Work in Progress

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Sometimes I think that, as imperfect and selfish and flawed as I am, if it weren’t for the Holy Spirit I would be a frighteningly sad excuse for a human being.  Even with His power in my life, I am still so far from good.  It’s scary to think about what I would be if I didn’t have Christ.

I am motivated by what is best for me.  Yet, God uses me to accomplish things for His kingdom.

I am a selfish partner in marriage.  Yet, God has given me a man who loves me and a marriage that blesses us and our children.

I am lazy.  Yet, God helps me get things done.

I lack compassion.  Yet, God sometimes breaks my heart for people and helps me want to reach out to them.

I am a know-it-all.  Yet, God shows me how little I understand about life, people, and His word.  And He gives me wisdom to be quiet.

I think about people I’ve known in life who aren’t believers, yet they are wonderful people–loving, kind, compassionate, and selfless.  I don’t think I would be that way if it weren’t for the Holy Spirit’s light in my life.  I can honestly say, having lived with my own thoughts and motivations for 35 years, that any shred of good or decency in my soul comes only from God.  If I were left to my own devices, I would truly be a wretched person.

So, I thank God for saving me from myself.  What I was is not what I will be.  He’s still working.  Sanctification is a life-long process, and I may be on the remedial track, but He doesn’t give up.  He knows me better than I know myself.  And for some reason He loves me anyway.  Thank you, Jesus.

 

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