Encouragement grounded in Scripture
Rooted in truth. Anchored in Christ.
New reflections weekly.
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Feeding the “Monster”
For he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. Psalm 107:9
Remember that monster I told you lived in my home? The one who is cranky, often mute, and frequently unable to express how he feels? Well, since this monster is our five-year old son, we also must take this monster with us on trips…which means he also must follow us to our vacation destination. Like this week long vacation destination. The one I so desperately needed to relax, reflect, recharge, and unwind, and maybe forget some of my own monsters for a while.
Now, restaurants with our little monster are not relaxing. Whether at home or on vacation. And this night has been no exception. See, our monster needs constant meals. After 20 minutes of eating, he is usually hungry again. While he is declaring his hunger, he is also rummaging in cabinets for snacks unseen, kicking kitchen chairs, grunting, screaming, and cowering on the floor in a ball of anger. Once again, tonight, we have failed to feed our monster at the appropriate times, and he is downright angry. We have waited too long to give him what he craves, and now he is beyond consolable, and unable to cope in this situation. He needs to eat NOW!
Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6:35
He isn’t the only monster in our home. The only monster that comes along on vacations. I can be a monster at times, too. Especially, when I have not been nourished as well. When I have not been feeding on the Word of God. I am doubtful when I don’t spend time asking God to calm my fears. I am quick to speak when I don’t take the time to ask God to guide my conversations. When I don’t spend times with him at the start of my day, praying and reading His Word, I can be a total monster for the rest of my day. And, when I don’t ask God for direction, I can also be found rummaging for something that isn’t there, kicking in frustration, grunting, screaming, and complaining.
All because I didn’t feed the monster.
Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk, so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment. 1 Peter 2:2
To face the demands of or daily lives. To love others, fulfill our purpose, and navigate the circumstances that turn us into monsters, we have to feed our bodies. Not simply our physical bodies, or our stomachs, but we must be fed spiritually. This isn’t something we routinely indulge in at three times a day, but consistently and frequently. It means asking God to feed us with patience while we wait in traffic in the morning. It means seeking God when we are afraid of what’s next, so he can nourish us with reassurance and peace. It’s thanking God for all He has done even when all we want to do is complain, so he can fill us with praise in our hearts.
So, what happened when our little monster was fed? He certainly didn’t resemble the raging and screaming ball of fury that results when his poor little soul gets hungry. He was happier, more at peace, a little less anxious, and much more willing to try something new.
And, God wants us to feel the same way-nourished by His Word, at peace with what he promises to provide, or what he already has, and full of a happy, joyful, and thankful spirit.
Nourishment that can soften and ease even the toughest of monsters!
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A Friend at All TImes
“M made me cry today on the bus.” This is the first thing my daughter says to me as she holds back tears on her last day of school.
“What do you mean? Why did she make you cry?”
“Well, she wouldn’t let our other friend sit with me!”
I’ll be honest. There was a large part of me that was extremely angry. See, M is the topic of quite a few conversations I have with my daughter in the afternoons after she has spent an evening bus ride being hurt and bullied by a “friend.” Then there was the other part of me-the part that hurt for my daughter. For her broken spirit. For the diminishing of the spirit of love she has in her heart for her friends. That part of me that has been there, too.
I knew it was finally time to have a heart to heart with my 7 year old little girl about true friendship. About how friends are called to really treat each other. Whether they are 7, or much older.
A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in times of need. Proverbs 17:17
“Why do you think your brother likes to sit with you on the bus?” And as she shrugs, her older brother hugs her, quietly telling his little sister, that it is because her brother loves her, and that friends should love each other as brother and sister, too.
We are commanded to treat each other with loyalty, respect, and love. At all times. Not just when times are good. But, when they are not. Respect our friends, not only when they agree with us and our choices, but even when they don’t. Stay loyal to our friends even if they choose a path we wouldn’t have picked for them. Respect and love our friends even if someone else wants to share that seat on the bus, at the lunch table, in the cafeteria or restaurant, in the workplace. At all times.
Encourage each other everyday while you have the opportunity. Hebrews 3:13
“And, also, honey…friends usually won’t make you cry.”
Unless, of course you are crying with your friend, because you feel their pain, or they feel yours. No, we don’t make our friends cry deliberately. We encourage them. We lift them up. We tell them how wonderful they are, even when they feel anything but. We give up our wants, our needs, our desires, our time, to stop and give to those we care about, even if it means we have to sacrifice a little of ourselves. We encourage at all times. In the middle of the night. When they feel lonely, scared, bruised. Even when we could use a little encouragement ourselves. And, sometimes we give up the seat on the bus so our friend can be comfortable.
There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13
At the young age of 7, the last thing my daughter wants to hear is that she may have to find new friends, but for me-I want the kind of friend who will lay in the aisle of the bus if it meant I was taken care of, and I want to be the friend who does the same.
I want my daughter to know what it is like to have friends that would drop their plans, come running, or even whisk her away for a weekend, when her life has become one big crisis after another.
I want my daughter to know what it is like to have friends who will support her dreams, support her cause, support her children and their needs. Who will be a shoulder for her to cry on. Who will provide a laugh when life gets messy. Who will allow her to be herself, even when she may not even know who that may be.
And I want my daughter to be the same kind of friend.
Like my friends have been for me.
Loving. Encouraging. Supportive. Selfless.
At all times.
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Out of the Valley of Fear
The Lord is my light and my salvation-so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble? Psalm 27:1
Fear. It is the one word I said I was going to overcome this year. That one word I chose to ditch at the beginning of 2014. That one word I just can’t get over. That one word that keeps me from living the life God has planned for me. My purpose. My assignment.
Fear and courage. Two completely separate armies, and in between the two lies one deep valley. And, if I am going to get to the promised land. Live out the life God has planned for me. My purpose. My assignment. Well, then I have to be willing to get out of the valley. The Valley of Rejection. The Valley of Enough. The Valley of Failure. The Valley of the Unknown.
But, fear is the army I can’t seem to leave, simply because I am scared of most EVERYTHING. I have mentioned the typical fears like snakes, sharks, roller coasters, and spiders. Most of those I am happy to admit. I am not so happy to admit that the brave face I put on to hide my fears, really isn’t hiding a fear of sea and land monsters, but rather all those other monsters that have me reenlisting in the Army of Fear.
Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close. Psalm 27:10
I’m terrified of people. I don’t have a social phobia or anything, rather, I am terrified of being rejected by people. Which means I am terrified of their feelings. Hurting them if I speak up. Hurting mine in the process. Afraid of what will happen when the words do come, and even afraid when they don’t. Terrified I will say the wrong thing. Write something too convicting. Speak the truth a little too harshly. Embarrass my teen. Expose myself too soon. And then watch people walk away. Bruised. Hurt. Confused. Ashamed.
I’m afraid of the “enoughs.” The good enoughs. The smart enoughs. The pretty enoughs. The fast enough. The enough of a mother, wife, friend. The Christian enough. The strong enough. And, even when God tells me otherwise-that I AM good enough, I still have this paralyzing fear that somehow, someday, and someone will find out that I just don’t measure up to be “enough.”
Failure? Oh yes, I frequent the Valley of Failure. It is this place in the valley where I beat myself up every time I get less than a perfect score on a test or paper. The valley I stay in when I pull an all-nighter because I can’t stand the thought of failing to turn something in on time. It is also the fear of failure that keeps me from facing my Goliath’s like David faced down his. That keeps me from taking risks. Taking chances. Making mistakes. Making a change. Because, what if I fail? Miserably? What if I have to admit, “Man, I really messed that one up?”
And, oh…the “what-ifs!” The fears of all of those unknowns. Those dark places in the valley that we just can’t see.
“God has a stunning vision for your life, but if He showed it to you all at once, it would be too much to handle. In His grace He gives small glimpses at a time, and His unimaginable vision for your life can only unfold as you have the courage, like David, to move into the unknown.” -Derwin L. Gray, Limitless Life
Small glimpses at a time. Glimpses I can’t see in the Valley of the Unknown. The Valley of What-If. The Valley of the Why. The Valley of the When, Where, and How.
Small glimpses of the army on the other side. The one I can only see if I get out of the Valley of the Sheep named Rejection, Good Enough, Failure, and Unknown.
A glimpse of my purpose. My assignment. What I was born to do. To be fearless. To step out of my comfort zone. Speak up. To have faith even if I cannot see the result.
To move from the Army of Fear to the Army of Courage.
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We Will Get Through This…Together
And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love. Romans 5:5
It never ceases to amaze me how the very promises I make to God, to my family, and to myself are so often challenged. Each time I glean some lesson from life’s experiences, and make a commitment to change my sinful, unloving, and not always Christ-like ways, I am forced to put that lesson learned into practice.
This time is no exception. Last week, I wrote about the good enough trap. I promised God and my children that only words of encouragement would come from my lips. Now, my question-how do I do this once again? How do I convince one of my children that I am proud of his “best” when deep down I worry that this “best” effort could ultimately harm?
I have for the most part been blessed as a mother of a teenager. My son is a good kid. He doesn’t get in trouble in school, aside from a little chattering in class (the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree), he is firm in his drug-free views, and he is a God-loving child-involved in church, and excited about being there. However, for the last couple of years, my teen has struggled with his grades. And, I don’t mean the “Oh no, I got a B struggle” that I consider to be a problem in my own school life. More like the “I’m going to fail math my junior year” type problem.
The year when decisions about the next stage of life must be confronted. The year when he must consider college. The decision I attempted to help him with a few months ago, asking for his “Top 5” list, and researching the steps he needed to take to get into those “Top 5’s.” The goals needed to reach that next stage.
I still have all that research. I still have those sheets of paper on which I meticulously wrote out every pro and con, every GPA and SAT requirement, and every possible financial scenario for each school. The list that looks like it could be out of reach-at least for now.
So, how do I tell my son that I know he tried his best? I know he worked as hard as he could, but this time, his goal may have been out of reach? While his best may be good for me, will it be good enough for the Dean of Admissions at his dream school?
My child, listen when your father corrects you. Don’t neglect your mother’s instruction. What you learn from them will crown you with grace and be a chain of honor around your neck. Proverbs 1:8-9
I consider my parenting style to be pretty “soft.” While I admit I often expect more out of my own children when it comes to their behavior, and forget in essence they really are just kids, I also don’t hover and harp on some things either. Yes, of course I expect my children to perform well in school, but I also believe in teaching my children what happens when they do things like procrastinate-when they wait until Thursday night to do homework they have had since Monday. When they must make the decision to do ALL this homework instead of playing outside. I believe all children, even the smaller children, should understand the consequences of their choices.
And, while I try to teach these tough lessons to my children who are demanding a little independence of their own, while I try my best not to hover, nag, criticize, and dwell on the “not good enoughs,” I am now struggling with the need to hover for the next few months over an SAT prep book, and college applications to schools that are not on the “Top 5” list, all while still letting my son know that while his best may not be good enough for them, it is good enough for me.
While it may not be good enough for his list of dream schools, it is good enough for me.
While it may look like he failed on his high school transcript, he has not failed me.
He could never disappoint me.
He could never be less than good enough for me.
He could never do anything, say anything, or feel anything that would make me love him less.
Just as God has told me.
And I am convinced that nothing can separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow-not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. Romans 8:38
Even after a teenage pregnancy, I didn’t disappoint Him.
Even after a divorce, He didn’t stop loving me.
The times I didn’t put my kids first. The times I took every wrong turn. Each time I ran further and further away from Him, he still said to me: You are good enough. You could never disappoint me. You are loved. I am here, and we will get through this…together.
If my teenage son learns nothing else. Even if he doesn’t learn the valuable lesson in this circumstance. Even if next semester he struggles with his grades again. Even if his Top 5’s look more like Bottom 10’s, I want him to remember this:
You are good enough. You could never disappoint me. You are loved. I am here, and we will get through this together.
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Good Enough for Me
I will build them up and not tear them down. I will plant them and not uproot them. Jeremiah 24:6
One of my childrens’ afternoon routines is a list of chores that they split each day. One of the chores is to wipe down and tidy the table in the living room. This also means throwing away any trash that always seems to make its way to this particular spot. Usually, my youngest child does pretty well with his chores. He wants to do them himself, he usually completes them as expected, but today, he did wipe down the table. But, he also failed to complete his chore, leaving the things that belonged on the table sitting in the middle of the living room floor instead.
“Honey, you didn’t finish with the table.”
“I can’t lift all that stuff, I just can’t do it!”
And my not so understanding response: “Well, then you might as well not do it at all….”
Certainly not a proud Mommy moment right there, huh?
As I watched my small little boy turn and hang his head in shame, I realized my blunder instantly. I had just told my son in so many words that his best was not good enough for me.
And this is only one example of my ability to tell my children they don’t measure up.
As my daughter writes her story slanted down one side of the page instead of in neat, straight lines. As she misses a period here, or a capital letter there. I tell her to start over, to take her time, that she is rushing, not doing her best. Telling her that her best right now is not good enough for me.
I do this with my teenager who has struggled with his grades all year. Letting him know that his now C-, well, it should really be a C by the end of the year. What’s with the minus? Telling him, “Sure, I know you are working hard and doing your best, but it’s not good enough for me.”
You did your best, but it wasn’t good enough.
You tried your best, but you are not smart enough.
You ran your best, but you were not fast enough.
By criticizing their attempts to do the best they can, I am uprooting whatever confidence they had. Tearing them down, until they turn away, hanging their head in shame and defeat.
He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle. Isaiah 42:4
According to the opening verses of Isaiah 42, this is what a servant of God does not do. A servant of a loving God. A servant of a God who knows our best is good enough to Him. Who loves us at our worst, even when we don’t deserve it.
As a servant of God, in the way I attempt to bring out the “best” in my children, am I really crushing the most tender reeds? Am I putting out the flames of creativity and potential inside of them? Simply because their best isn’t good enough for me?
You are precious to me. You are honored and I love you. Isaiah 43:4
My smallest boy finally lifted his shameful head to finish his last chore. And as I walked into the bathroom, I saw once again the mess of items taken off the counter and left on the bathroom floor. This time instead of telling him, “Why even try?” I put that little boy in my lap, looked him in the eyes as much as he would let me, and said, “Thank you. Thank you for cleaning the counter. I know the other things are too heavy for you to pick back up. But you did your best, and I love you.”
Yes, my son. Yes, my daughter. Your best is good enough for me.
About Me
I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic. All focused on Him.
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Grace 'n Grounds 