From the Pastor's Wife

2008-08-14T06:00:00.000-04:00

“Goodbye, Mr. Fourth of July”

The morning of our son John’s wedding day broke, indeed, overcast and the weatherman said we could certainly expect rain. “Poor Sarah,” I thought to myself as I drew back the curtain of our bedroom window very early that morning. The plans were, for this fourth of July wedding, to have the ceremony inside the church at 3 p.m., take the entire wedding party to a charming lakeside park for pictures, and then attend a lovely, outdoor, evening reception at the exquisite home of some cherished friends. I stepped outside our bedroom door, keenly aware of the silence all around me, and sat on the top step of the staircase. “This is John’s wedding day.” I said out loud to no one. “This is John’s wedding day,” I repeated with an emphasis on the “is” as if coaching myself. As if convincing myself. I walked down the steps to the kitchen and poured myself an iced tea. “Please don’t rain…” I murmured as I looked up at the sky through our kitchen curtains. Looking over at the open basement door, I resisted the urge to go look downstairs. The basement has been John’s domain ever since we moved into this brand new house almost four years ago, and I have become so accustomed to his charging up the stairs, kissing me on the head and running out the door, that the absence of commotion coming from that direction was overpoweringly sad on this particular morning. But only for a moment. Rather than being melancholy on my son’s wedding day, I chose to turn my attention to the things about John that made me smile.

John lived at home with us for all of his “pre-wedded” 28 years. That may seem like too long for some people, but we Christian parents tend to hold on a little longer. By this I mean that our kids are not necessarily clicking their heels to leave home to see what the world has to offer. John, no exception to this rule, was always one to show deep devotion to his home and everyone connected to it, and thereby, developed some very deep attachments along the way. I remembered the last Saturday night before the last Sunday John would live at home with us. Coming home from Sarah’s much earlier than usual that Saturday evening, John was very happy to find my good husband and I sitting in the family room all alone. “Oh great! Are you guys gonna be here for a while?” he asked with such pleading fixed in his voice that even if we had plans to go to dinner with the President, we would have remained. My husband and I looked at each other and answered John in the affirmative as if we had no other plans but to wait for him to arrive home that night. John came back into the room. One of our girls had joined us, I can’t quite remember who just now, all I remember was that this 28 year old big, strong, incredibly handsome young man sat up close to me, dropped his head on my shoulder and quietly began to cry. My great hearted husband, who has never, ever failed—in all our 31 years of marriage—to have just the right thing to say at the time it is most needed, looked across the room at me with tear filled eyes and said, “It’s okay, J, you know mom and I love you son, and we’ll, by God’s grace, always be here for you…” Quiet, muffled sobs filled the room and the daughter who was sitting with us, sweetly and quietly slipped out, sniffling as she went. After what seemed like a lifetime, John spoke. “I’m just gonna miss you so much mom and dad. You’ve always been so wonderful…I can’t thank you enough for all the love, all the instruction…all the wonderful memories…I know it’s never gonna be the same…” My mind was a jumble of disarranged memories that came flying at me from all directions. John, at age 2, in his first Yankee outfit. John at age three, batting the ball over the roof of our little one story house. John, helping me clean the house, cleaning his bedroom in 2 minutes flat, surprising his father by washing his car. John, bursting through the back door after school on a cold autumn day, dropping his backpack on the floor and shouting in response to the aroma that filled the kitchen, “Yes! Butterscotch brownies!” John, sitting across from his father on a warm summer evening out on the back deck, leaning forward, receiving instruction. John, quietly strumming his guitar as our family would sit around talking and just loving to be together. And now this new memory—John, sitting beside me, quietly crying, saying good-bye.

The next day, the last Sunday John would wake up in our home as an unmarried young man, found all of us a little preoccupied. This would be John’s last Sunday dinner with us and, just as we did for Jen and Tim on their last Sundays home, we always planned a very special dinner and an afternoon of good byes. Our church services seemed to go faster than usual that Sunday and the girls and I hurried home to make sure everything was just perfect. Even little three year old Madison was very helpful, not quite understanding that her beloved uncle would not be living in the same house she lived in any more. John comprises one half of what our family calls, “The uncles.” The crazy, fun loving, treat bringing, present bearing, ice cream man chasing, ‘fly Madi through the house by the seat of her pink overalls’ loving uncles— “Unca John” and “Unca Tim”—whom Madison adores. We ate and then, I called Madi into the kitchen to help me light the sparkler candles atop the homemade chocolate cake piled high with John’s favorite vanilla frosting. She was ecstatic and as we lit the candles, our family began to sing, “Goodbye, our God is watching o’er you, goodbye, His blessings go before you…” but we never finished. As we got to the table with the cake, Madison crept up into John’s lap and began to cry her little heart out. And, John, enfolding her in his embrace, just wept. I stood there, with the cake—sparklers sizzling in the silence—and looked around at my family. Everyone was crying. And so, I continued to hold the cake and, with my heart in my throat, finished the song, “Goodbye, and we’ll be praying for you, so goodbye, may God bless you.” The sparklers had sputtered to a soundless stillness and the stillness remained for quite a while. Finally, as we had done on so may occasions before, we repeated to our beloved son, brother, brother-in-law, and cherished uncle, the very reasons we loved him so much and how it would never be the same without him.

I was still staring at the basement door, though a million miles away in thought from it when the front door burst open. “Hey mom!” the groom threw his arms around me, ”I’m getting’ married today!” I squeezed him hard, that big lug of a son, as he swung me around. “And so you are!” I answered him. His mind and heart was a million miles away from last Sunday, and last Saturday night—and rightly so. And through our kitchen window, I noticed, the sun had once again begun to shine.

Encouragingly yours,
Liz

2008-07-28T15:24:00.002-04:00

“For Want of An Abigail”

“Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage.
The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.”
W.E. Channing

There are those in this life who, it would seem, are born to know trouble…those who experience heartache after heartache, disappointment after disappointment. As a pastor’s wife, I have listened as they spoke through muffled sobs, “Why me?” I have also heard those same words, hot with resentment and shouted in anger. I have no answer many times. Why is it that for some people life seems so easy—so good—and yet for others it may seem almost hopeless? I know that God’s Word is true and I know that it says “..all things work together for good…” I also know that “…God is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think…” But because of circumstances and life’s situations, it seems to me that some people just don’t believe those promises. And if people refuse to believe God’s Word, then who am I to even suppose that my words will bring help, hope, and comfort?
I have often wondered what I would’ve told Abigail. We are introduced to her in I Samuel 25 and in the same breath of Holy Writ we are introduced to her husband, Nabal. Abigail, we are told, was a woman of good understanding and of a beautiful countenance, while Nabal is characterized as being churlish and evil in his doings. Churlish is a word we don’t often use in our vocabulary in this day and age so in order to comprehend what kind of man Nabal was, you must understand that churlish means: cruel, grievous, hard-hearted, impudent, obstinate, and rough. What a contrast this man was next to his lovely wife, Abigail! No doubt people shook their heads when Abigail and Nabal were seen together. Surely they would wonder how this most ill-suited couple wound up together! Wouldn’t you imagine that people felt a little sorry for Abigail, knowing how trying life must’ve been for the individual living under the same tent as Nabal? Yet, in this remarkable story we see that in spite of these difficult circumstances, Abigail retains her spirituality, wisdom, and goodness. Because of her great love for God and her magnificent spirit, the Lord pours His richest blessings on her life.
Enter an “on-the-run,” almost-king - David, and his mighty men. At this point in our story, Abigail is unknown to David. He and his men have been watching over Nabal’s sheep and herdsmen in the wilderness. Nabal, you see, was quite wealthy and owned thousands of sheep and goats. One day when it was sheep shearing time, David sends an emissary of 10 men with a gentle reminder to Nabal that it was time to pay up for services rendered. Nabal responds in his churlish way and makes some very insulting remarks to the future king of Israel. David’s men return to him empty-handed and rehearse the hateful words of Nabal in David’s presence. No sooner were the words out of their mouths when David begins arming himself, mounting his horse, and shouting orders for his men – 400 of them – to do the same. You can just picture the scene. These men, who were already fiercely loyal to David, were ready to make Nabal part of the Judean landscape. David himself was determining in his own heart, not only to do away with Nabal, but also to eradicate anyone or anything associated with him from the face of the earth! (I Samuel 25:21)
Meanwhile, back at home, Abigail is going on with her day-to-day responsibilities, not knowing that in about 10 days her life was going to be dramatically changed for the better. One of the young men who was a servant of Nabal came and told the approachable Abigail of all that had transpired in the past few hours. He defends David’s men and tells her of Nabal’s mistreatment of them. While Abigail is letting all of this news sink in, the servant is going on and on, reminding her of what she already knows – that her husband is a son of Belial. Abigail ignores her pounding heart and goes into action. She prepares an enormous “picnic lunch” for David and his loyal league and sends a servant ahead to prevent David’s advance. Then totally unnoticed by her wicked spouse, she slips onto her donkey and heads for the hills where she meets David and his men. Upon seeing the future king of Israel, the Bible says Abigail hasted off her donkey and threw herself at David’s feet, pleading for mercy and begging him to save foolish Nabal’s life. She proceeds to remind him that it is the Lord that has intervened and prevented the future king from shedding blood and avenging himself by his own hand. In her pure, sweet, endearing manner she pours out her heart to David, and David, filled with admiration for this absolutely beautiful, dynamic woman, regains his sense of dignity and promises her that he will do as she asks. After she sees that David and his men have eaten, Abigail rides off into the sunset and returns home to Mr. Wonderful – who is in a drunken stupor. Maybe it was on the long ride home that she decided she would tell Nabal the whole story. Perhaps being in a godly man’s presence stirred up her righteous indignation and moved her to throw caution to the wind and tell her husband exactly what she had done. She decides to wait until the morning to tell him all that had transpired and when she does tell him, Nabal is paralyzed with fear and his heart dies within him – the Bible says he became as a stone. Within 10 days the Lord killed wicked, evil, churlish Nabal. Shortly thereafter David hears of Nabal’s death and thinks about the lovely wife Nabal has left behind. Imagine the scene, Abigail, sitting at home, alone, trying to reckon the events of the past few days – realizing how God has delivered her out of a seemingly bleak and hopeless station in life. And now, she is alone. No longer subjected to Nabal’s fits and abuse, she is alone. No longer ashamed to be seen with him in public, she will now be known as “Nabal’s widow.” She will no doubt wait for God’s direction and leadership in her life – for she has never been alone before – physically, that is. She has known what it’s like to be married to someone and yet feel so all alone – yet somehow this is different. But all will be well; God will be her shield and strength. Her thoughts may have turned to the flocks then, now that the care of Nabal’s huge estate would be her responsibility. As she ponders these things, the sound of a rider can be heard in the distance. The sound becomes louder and louder and finally shakes Abigail from her pensive thoughts. A servant rushes in to Abigail and informs her that a few of David’s servants have come to her. She rises and goes to meet them. They have a word from the future king of Israel: “David sent us unto thee, to take thee to him to wife.” I Samuel 25:40. Then, once again, but with a totally different purpose, filled with anticipation, excitement and wonder, Abigail “makes haste” and goes to be David’s wife.
Abigail – godly, beautiful, and wise, trusted in her God and believed Him in spite of her circumstances. The word “divorce” was not in her vocabulary because God was bigger than any situation. And even if He chose not to deliver her, she would’ve trusted Him still. As difficult as life must have been for her, she maintained her close walk with the Lord and kept her eyes on Him.
Women today are ready to walk out if their husbands don’t spend enough time with them, or if they read the paper at the table. Divorce is a word that rolls too easily off the lips of over one-half of our society. It is a shattering, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching experience and one is never left the same after experiencing a divorce. May the Lord help us, to the best of our ability, to be the wives we should be. May we seek His wisdom for direction and help and protection even in the most difficult circumstances. I wonder how many marriages would still be together today “for want of an Abigail?”

Encouragingly yours,
Liz

2008-06-17T11:36:00.002-04:00

How Did I Get Here?

“If only”—those must be two of the saddest words in the whole wide world. If only I had not done that. If only I had waited. If only I didn’t say that. If only I had not reacted. If only. And sometimes “if only” applies to things we didn’t do: if only I would have started earlier, if only I would’ve listened to instructions, if only I would have disciplined myself to do it, if only I took the time. If only I listened. If only I cared. If only I helped. Someone has said, “We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is that discipline weighs ounces and regret weighs tons.”

Sometimes, we know immediately if we’ve done or said something wrong in one awful flash of regret. When I think of some of the well-known Bible characters we read of who may have some regrets, Moses always comes to mind. If only he would not have reacted in such rage the day he struck the rock. If only his main objective would’ve been for God’s glory, he would’ve tasted the milk and honey of the Promised Land instead of viewing it from afar. Poor Moses. I would imagine that dreadful day he heard he would not enter Canaan was a day he regretted for the rest of his life. If only he had obeyed. And yet, our God proves once again He is so gracious and loving, for when inspiring the writers of the New Testament, He led them to speak of Moses. In Luke, Christ tells the story of the rich man in hell who demands that Lazarus go back and speak to his brothers. Christ tells how Abraham reminds the man that they already have ample sources of pleadings to avoid that dreadful place in that they have Moses and the prophets. And beginning with Moses, Christ taught of Himself. In the gospel of John, Christ speaks to an unbelieving crowd and aligns Himself with-none other than Moses. “…had ye believed Moses,” Jesus confronts them, “ ye would have believed me…” In Hebrews, we read that Moses was faithful in all his house and in Revelation, we understand that the redeemed sing the song of Moses, the servant of God.

Now there are three things about regrets that we must understand.

1. Regrets hinder our progress
If the Lord God wanted us to live in the past, He would have instructed us to do so. But instead, quite the opposite is true. We are instructed in God’s Word to press toward the mark and run the race, looking unto Jesus—and not our past failures—be they large or small.

2. Regrets haunt us
A guilty conscience can make one physically ill. It can make you depressed or fearful. If you have done your best to try to make things right, let the Lord do the rest. He knows your heart. He knows your burden—leave it

3. Regrets can hurt others
Some people are so bound up in their past, with all their anguish, remorse and guilt, it makes it impossible to move forward in their relationships.

They brood, they mull it over and the years go by… They have sleepless nights. And then-perhaps worst of all, they pass all of this baggage onto their children. I say baggage because it is something you choose to carry, not something you must carry. Christ wants all of your burdens-why pass them onto your children by allowing them to be exposed to your brooding, melancholy behavior? Their little shoulders were not made to carry their parents’ anxieties and dilemmas. As a Christian you have more of a responsibility than you’ll ever know to leave your impediments with the Lord.

If the Lord, Who is the Great Judge can forgive us—can we not forgive ourselves? Ay, there’s the rub. If you are wallowing in your past failures, have you ever had a serious talk with yourself and asked, “What on earth am I doing here? This is unproductive and unspiritual.” God knows everything about you and chooses—not only to forgive you—but to continue to use you and change you into the image of His dear Son. How undeserving and unworthy we are of His goodness.

We all do things we regret and some of those things seem pretty unbearable when you think about them later. When our children were quite young they came up with the phrase, “skin crawlers” for all the things they did in the past that they came to be rather ashamed of in the present. To this day, though they are all adults, we might be sitting around the table talking and someone will say, “O.K., everybody, I have a real skin crawler for you…” and then they will go on to relay some silly or regrettable thing they did. Sometimes we laugh with them—others times—true to the expression-the story makes our skin crawl. The key to not living in the past world of regrets is to forgive and forget. There are some things in this life we cannot change. Maybe there are situations you have made a mess of. But, that does not mean that God cannot reach His Almighty hand in and change things so completely that nothing short of a miracle has been performed. Allow God to do a complete work in your life. It’s one thing you’ll never regret.

2008-05-14T08:00:00.000-04:00

“Jesus Christ; the same yesterday, today, and forever.”

Class was in session and my teachers were all around me. It wasn’t the first time that I sat in my teacher’s position behind my desk and listened and observed as my little elementary school students educated me.

Everyday after lunch for these past two years, I have read another chapter from the “Little House on the Prairie’ series and now we had come to the final book. It’s a sad little book, really, “The First Four Years,” its manuscript discovered after Laura Ingalls Wilder’s death. The publishers were committed to keeping the manuscript as unaltered as possible, though the style of writing was quite different from Mrs. Wilder’s previous books. A close friend of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s daughter, Rose, confided that Laura lost interest in completing this final chapter of the story of her life after her beloved husband, Almonzo, died. It’s a book of changes; Laura grows up, leaves home, gets married, and moves away. My students, ages 7-10, couldn’t quite come to terms with all of these changes and it made them all a little sad. For two years, a least one chapter a week would tell of some hilarious childhood escapade Laura got herself into, or of some exciting pioneer adventure. There were daily instructions given by Laura’s kind mother, “Ma” and always some wit and wisdom from “Pa.”

For two years, we, as a class, traveled the open prairie with the Ingalls family and ate baked beans and drank hot black coffee cooked over an open campfire. We lay on wildflower-covered prairies, under a black velvet canopy of sky that was riveted with millions of diamonds and fell asleep listening to the song of the coyotes. We fearlessly crossed raging, half-frozen rivers, and felt the hair on the back of our necks stand up as we rode bare back through the woods with Pa and were chased by ravening wolves. We all got a little misty eyed and shared in the huge disappointment when Pa lost his finest wheat crop in a matter of minutes to armies of ugly brown grasshoppers. But best of all, we learned of, we felt, the warmth of a happy, close, loving, young family who survived the worst hardships and deepest heartaches and were comforted by the sweet strains of Pa’s old fiddle at the close of the day. This last book leaves all of those golden days behind and causes you to reflect upon them. And thought they are just stories and you can always reread them, you feel a certain sadness when the last page is read and the book is closed.

Someone in the class, a little third grade boy piped up as if out of slumber one day as I was reading these few final chapters and lisped, “Wait! You mean Laura dothent live at home with Pa and Ma anymore?!” “No,” I gently reminded him, more than a little amused that his little nine-year-old self just came to this realization—“those days are all over, this is a new life Laura is starting now.” He looked disenchanted. “Why did she ever want to go away from her parenths?” another soft voice whined. “Well,” I answered, “It’s not that she wanted to leave them to get away—it’s just that life changes, people change, and life goes on. There are always new things ahead…” “I’m not doin’ that,” a fourth grade girl quietly said as she twisted one of her braids. “Doing what?” I asked. “Leaving my pa and ma…” She was interrupted with a burst of laughter for calling her parents Pa and Ma. “You know what I mean!” she giggled to the class. “I’m not leaving just because I’m getting bigger, I’m staying with them. Besides,” she sincerely continued, “they’ll miss me.” A sixth grade boy whom I have taught since first grade and who was in his final weeks of my tutelage, brought out the fact that our class is like that. You start out little, grow up all those years, and then, before you know it, you have to leave Mrs. Graf’s class. “I don’t even want to leave,” Justin said, sounding like someone’s grandfather rather than a twelve-year-old sixth-grader. “But you just know when your time comes…” Looking at him sitting there, the younger kids all wide-eyed and staring at him, I thought back to his first day of school when I turned a corner in the classroom at recess time and found him crying in his older sister’s lap. She was crying too. “What’s wrong guys?” I asked as I knelt beside them. “Nobody wants to play with Justin outside…” Melissa sniffed, “An they said I’m too little an’ I might get kicked by the big boys!” Justin cried. “Well now,” I comforted him, “We’ll just have to find something for you to do at recess, won’t we?’ The next day, he brought in a pogo stick and was boinging around the church parking lot at recess. Not surprisingly, there was line of kids waiting to try it—a long line which included several “big boys” who only the day before found Justin “too little” to hang around. (Life has the sweetest rewards sometimes!)

Our class conversation came to a close that day with my explaining to the class that life is full of changes and that you can’t be afraid of change. It’s true that as you grow up things become different—but it doesn’t necessarily follow that those changes are bad. You have to be brave and really, make friends with change because, in the words of a famous writer, “If you can be sure of anything in this life, you can be sure it is going to change.” Justine spoke up, breaking the pensive silence. “I guess I really couldn’t stay in this class forever, anyway…” “Yeah,” a little girl chirped up, “an’ Laura would get too big to stay with Ma and Pa to do all of her little girl chores an’ play little girl games for always…” I listened for a few more moments to these same children, who only a few moments ago were lamenting the fact that they had to grow up, now list the reasons why it was imperative to do so. And they began to think about what a boring place the world would be without change; the same dinners everyday, the same weather, even the same day of the week. What if, someone said, it was always Monday when you woke up! Nobody wanted a world full of Mondays.

Everyone seemed to brighten up and even, maybe just a little, grow up as well.

We are so blessed in this ever-changing world we live in as Christians to know the One who never changes. And by looking unto Jesus, our hearts compel us—be brave, have faith, go forward.

Encouragingly yours,

Liz

2008-04-30T22:53:00.002-04:00

“Raising Elisha”
(Don’t Ever Forget To Remember)
I Kings 19:19-21

When Elijah cast his mantle on Elisha, Elisha said, “Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow thee.” This man’s man, Elisha, out in the field, single handedly plowing with twelve yoke of oxen was, in essence saying,

“First, let me tell them good-bye and let me, by kissing each of them, express my deepest gratitude for all they’ve ever done for me. Can you picture it? Strong and sturdy Elisha is plowing with-did you catch it-24 oxen at once! The man of God comes to call and because Elisha has been so spiritually cultivated, he is ready. And though he has been waiting for this moment for years- first, one small request. “Let me go throw my arms around my good father. I owe him. I would not be who I am today without him. He has infiltrated my being with his wisdom and if I have seen farther in this life it is because I have stood on the shoulders of this spiritual giant, my father. He has, by his sincere devotion to our great God, been my guiding light and testimony. By his strength, unflinching convictions, and vision he has set me on the course of my life and led me to my Saviour. So, permit me please, one last kiss on that rough and rugged, yet familiar cheek, for it may well be the last time I draw near to it. And let me, I pray you, gather up my precious mother and gently remind her as the tears fill her eyes, that this is the defining moment of my life-the very reason she has poured her life into mine-this is my hour. Let me kiss her, and in that kiss reveal that words are inadequate in expressing my thanks to her for all she has done for me-for all she is to me. For the standards she held me to, and for the countless lessons of life I learned at her knees. For running breathlessly beside me in the day and sitting quietly nearby, listening to my dreams in the night. For her comfort, for her care, for her, counsel. And most of all, her love.”

The Bible doesn’t tell us very much about Elisha’s parents. He is the son of a man called Shaphat and his mother’s name is not mentioned. Yet, what an impact they made on their son’s life-and what a son they raised for God! There is one small footnote to this touching scene and another nod to Elisha’s godly parents. Before Elisha went to meet up with Elijah, he threw a huge feast for his friends and family. On the menu? Oxen. Elisha made it clear that he was now on that road he had long been preparing to travel and should the temptation ever arise to turn back, he removed the means of his former occupation. I would like to think that Elisha’s parents stood nearby as he did this. I would imagine it was a thrill beyond compare. I can almost hear them, speaking to one another, “ This is amazing! God is faithful! It’s all been worth it-every bit of hard work, all the long talks, all the prayer!” And then this young man, upon whom God would pour a double portion of his spirit; this giant of a man for whom God would answer prayer so quickly that as soon as the words were breathed the prayer would be answered-ran to meet Elijah and served him and ministered to him and blessed him.

There are certain people who enable us to be as we have never been before. Surely Elisha’s father and mother inspire us as Christian parents, and in their company we find confidence and promise and hope.

Encouragingly yours,

Liz

2008-02-26T11:28:00.000-05:00

"Honestly Speaking"

When my good husband and I were rearing our children, we understood that a lot of grace, patience, and tolerance were required for certain aspects of the entire parenting process. Indeed, the occasional glass tumble and the ensuing overflow of milk or juice was no cause for alarm at our table. Just as long as a few of us jumped into action for the necessary clean up detail and breakfast, lunch, or dinner would continue as normal. Mealtime was a lovely time because of the rules and guidelines we instilled in our very young children so long ago, and, even now, those standards enable us to look forward to lively conversation, the warmth and comfort of family, and an enjoyable dining experience every time we’re together. Other circumstances in the childrearing process often tested our spirituality as well as our creativity. The child who was, for example, a bit of a whiner compared to his cheerful siblings just required… ummm… a bit more encouragement to proceed on in a satisfactory direction. Realizing that each child was an individual with unique features and personalities, we knew we had to make some minor adjustments in our dealings with them. To summarize—some required only a look, while others necessitated action. However, there were some things we would not tolerate, the most fundamental of which was lying. Recently, I came across an article written by a child psychologist addressing the very matter of childhood lying. A mother had written to say she was having a terrible time with an eleven-year-old daughter who lied incessantly. The psychologist assured this mother that lying was a normal feature of everyday life for everyone. I thought to myself that I certainly hoped that wasn’t true because I happened across this article while flying back from a mid-winter getaway with my good husband, and the pilot had just spoken to all the passengers but a few moments ago, assuring us that we would land in New York about 20 minutes ahead of schedule because everything was going so smoothly. I certainly hoped he wasn’t lying! And my husband had just told me that our favorite son in law Josh, and all our girls would be picking us up at the airport. But, what if it was all a lie?! Not to worry, the psychologist went on to give several remedies for families that, well, basically, lie to each other all day long. The most creative one he came up with, in my opinion, was to create what he called, a “fibby bank”-with a nod to the “piggy bank,” the only difference being that if someone got caught telling a “fib” they would have to put 50 cents into the fibby bank. (I could really envision the average child or teen today being truly awakened and stirred by this…) Peradventure, I thought, with all the money the average “lying family” could save this way, they would be able to pay for the finest attorneys or lawyers one day when it comes time to bail their child out of jail for lying to the judge.

At any rate, when our children were quite young, their good father and I chose to do things quite differently—we opted to teach our children that it was wrong to lie, even when it came down to telling what some might call tiny, teeny ones. A lie was a lie in our home and there were consequences for being dishonest, not the least of which, and perhaps the one with most sting, that of temporarily losing your parents’ trust.

It is primary and elemental that a parent strives to the best of their ability to teach their child the importance of being truthful. As someone who is a parent, a teacher, and often just a casual listener and observer, I have learned that some parents almost position their child(ren) to be professional liars. I don’t mean to sound harsh, yet the harsh reality is that parents excuse and explain away so much wrong their children do it’s no wonder the kids become skilled at covering up and explaining away bad behavior. The bottom line is just this: a lie is a lie, and it is wrong to tell a lie—any kind of a lie. We did not excuse dishonesty in our home, lies were not called, “lu-lu’s, oopsies, whoppers or fibbies.” If someone in our family took the trouble to concoct a lie we took the trouble to get to the bottom of it. Sometimes this took—are you sitting down? HOURS. Yes, hours. But we got to be expert lie detectors in the interim. The suspect rubs his or her nose a lot, he may stammer or stutter and there’s no way on earth he can look you in the face. The guilty stare down at their feet and are usually very defensive. Initially you will hear buzzwords and phraseology such as,” You never believe me!” and “I can never do anything right—everyone hates me!”(The idea for the parent here is to remain perfectly still and silent during these tirades and to not so much as flinch in the face of such allegations and attributions—the phrases will run out within a matter of seconds and you can continue on your course of getting to the bottom of things.) And they blame anyone and everyone. The teacher was always the first to hang. You know teachers, after all, they get everything wrong and everyone in the whole school knows they just can’t stand your kids. It’s her or his fault. The teacher is out to get your kids! As silly as some of these things may sound, the awful truth is that parents will usually—almost always—take their child’s word over anyone else’s. They just don’t seem to think for one minute that their child would ever be dishonest to their faces and so they get all irate, make rash judgments, say things they shouldn’t say about someone who is generally, totally innocent and let their little fabricator entirely off the hook! Would you think for a moment that the entire scenario has developed within the child a deeper sense of respect for their parent? NO! They are congratulating themselves for pulling the wool over their parents’ eyes and laughing all the way to bed that night.

Surely you must be aware of the sad condition our country is in today. But why are we in such a sad state of affairs? One big reason is that America is losing its once prized sense of decency and its values. Values such as integrity, moral absolutes, and a deep love and respect for the truth. In order for our dear country to continue to be our great country we must have absolutes—definitive standards of right and wrong. Of good and evil. Of profitable and dysfunctional. We as Christian people claim to stand on the Word of God for all we do and practice—isn’t it time we taught our children by our example and practice that we love the God of that book and love them enough to nurture them in the way they should go? Parenting is not for the faint hearted—especially in our day and age; yet, it is quite rewarding when done with compassion, conviction, correction and consistency.

Just some words to mull around as February desperately tries to melt its way to spring.

"Never Stop"

2008-01-29T11:13:00.000-05:00

The following is a devotion I gave at our ladies' Christmas party, December 14, 2007. Peradventure you might feel inspired, maybe even a little challenged to achieve great things for the Lord in 2008 after reading it. The Lord bless you — Liz

At the close of the year, we often reflect on the past twelve months—the good times, the challenging times, the times you just wondered out loud how you’d make it. And yet you did. We’re all here tonight, you and I, and we made it through all the “Oh no-s!” of the year. Sometimes fearing, trembling, crawling forward—but you went forward. Sometimes with your head down, afraid to look up—so wounded, so troubled—yet you went forward. You may have taken baby-steps and you may still, to this day, not have any idea how you made it—but you did. A phrase so often found in the Bible is, “And it came to pass…” Everything comes to pass. Many times it is just human nature to look back and relive the past: “Wasn’t that the greatest? Wasn’t that fun? Wasn’t that awful?! Aren’t you glad that’s over with?! We come equipped with, as human beings, a great amount of fortitude within. Couple that with the grace and strength of the Lord and we are able to keep going and going and going. So let me challenge you at this time of year when we find ourselves reminiscing over the past: What are you going to keep on doing and what will you add to the list of ways you can serve God? I think I could not have asked for a better living and breathing object lesson than to have Mrs. Larry Clayton sitting in the same room with us as I present you with these thoughts. Talk about a couple that’s always on the move—continually going for the Lord!

My goods husband often says to me, “Liz, you never stop.” Sometimes, quite frankly, he makes me stop; sometimes, on rare occasions if I’m sick, I have no choice but to stop. But particularly concerning the things of the Lord, how do you stop? Even more, how dare we stop? Consider the following as we step into the New Year ahead:

1. Never stop serving the Lord. How many of you got out the dictionary the other night after Bro. Clayton preached and looked up the word “enterprise,” as he recommended we do during his preaching? I did as soon as I got everyone settled and served our usual “after-Wednesday-night-church snacks, soup, and sandwiches.” When an older preacher who’s been serving the Lord practically his whole life-long challenges me to do something—I don’t take that lightly and I wanted to look it up before it slipped my mind. Enterprise means a bold and brave adventurous spirit. That’s what we need to serve the Lord. We should not be thinking (those of us who have done everything from work in the nursery to children’s church and everything in between) of ways to get out of all we do, but rather we should prayerfully ask the Lord, “Lord, what else I can do?” The tendency is as you get older, to reward yourself for all of life’s little inconveniences you’ve had all along the 2ay. To drop all of the “Hard” things you’ve been doing. The philosophy often is, “Let someone else do it—let the younger ones do it.” I am all for young people jumping right in and serving the Lord—but who do you think has more experience and is more seasoned? Those who have been saved longer. These are not the years to jump ship! More than ever, it’s time to reach within yourselves for that brave and adventurous spirit.

2. Ask the Lord to make you usable. Everyone has talents and abilities that, if you ask the Lord to enhance those natural loves and inclinations in you, He can do that and then you’ll be serving the Lord in an area you love. The other day, one of the parents of one of my students came in and took one look at my lunchtime classroom and said, “Liz, I don’t know how you do it,” and we both laughed. The hot chocolate pot was chugging, someone was cutting a snowflake, I was giving a spelling test, a high-schooler came in and had a question about kids’ choir… But for me, I can’t tell you how much I love working with those kids. And then those kids turn into teens and I still love working with them. It’s an area in my life where I had a love for something and the Lord just enhanced it for me. And to be able to do something you really, really love—and do it for the Lord—is really wonderful! All of you have something you can do, be it great or small. You ought to find out what it is and ask the Lord to make you usable for His glory and honor.

3. Ask the Lord to use you. Usually the way it is in most churches is that a few people do most of the work and many people just skate along. Can you imagine what our good church would be like if everyone got that enterprising spirit? Take a little thing like children’s church. Some of you ought to be teaching in there by now. What about a Sunday school class? You can be trained. What about determining with your husband that your family will be the church’s private welcoming committee? There are so many things you can do for the Lord. We must never, never stop doing and thinking of ways to become more involved.

When Jesus was here on earth, He always did far more than the average person would have done. In the garden, I heard a preacher say once, that Jesus “went a little further” when He went to pray. That was right before they captured Him and His trial began and they crucified Him. Surely we can go a “little further” for the Lord. Certainly, as long as we have the health and ability, may God grant us in this New Year that bright, enterprising spirit, that excellent spirit that we need to keep serving the Lord, and never stop!

What Do You Want?

2007-12-03T10:27:00.001-05:00

Ever since our kids were very small, my good husband and I would sit down with all of them before the holidays and ask them to tell us what they would like for Christmas. (I know some people would not agree with this practice, but it was always fun and sometimes very revealing for us.) Most times the kids had a hard time coming up with something they really wanted as they were usually very content. When they were really young, the requests sometimes ranged from the small and mundane to the next-to-impossible. When Ashley was about four, she asked for a Clydesdale horse and bubble gum... guess which one she got! At around the same age, John and Tim were either into cowboy paraphernalia or anything to do with sports, but inevitably every year, one gift they always got was a huge package of matchbox type cars. You know, the ones that come with about forty in the box for around $3.00? It was a thing my husband got them every single Christmas for years. I'd be laughing to myself when we went out Christmas shopping because if we ever went our separate ways in any toy department, sooner or later he'd round the bend with the ever appearing "matchbox menagerie."

“Look what I found, Liz!" he'd say in all sincerity and as if it were the first time we bought one. "Thirty-five cars for $2.79! What d'ya think? The boys like these, right?"

“Oh, sure—they love these," I'd reply while I inwardly cringed remembering one cold post-Christmas morning a few years ago when I stepped on a matchbox ice cream truck—barefoot. (I think I still have the words "Good Humor" imprinted on the arch of my foot.)

Because our kids grew up without the influence of television for the most part, they were not exposed to the annual barrage of Christmas toy commercials. Therefore, any TV announcer wasn’t telling them how much they wanted a particular toy or game. So although we might ask our kids what they wanted, most times they didn't come up with a lot. Comments such as, "I don't know," and "Whatever you get me, I'll like," or "I really don't need anything," were frequently rendered. I can remember one holiday season when our son, John, was questioned by a certain relative as to what he wanted for Christmas. He was about twelve or thirteen at the time and hemmed and hawed around until he finally said, "I don't know, ____. I'm really a pretty content boy." Needless to say, the relative involved found his comments quite remarkable, even bizarre, and began to question us as to what we ever "did" to John to make him behave so "abnormally."

Today it seems that kids are getting so much and that advertisers are beginning to make just as big a "gift-giving extravaganza" out of Easter and Halloween as they have of Christmas. I was in Macy's around Easter once and overheard this conversation between a mother and her married daughter:

Daughter: Ma, I still gotta get Nicole that "E-Z Bake oven" thing...

Mother: I thought you already got her the doll for Easter!

Daughter: Yeah... I know... but we got Richie the "Power Rangers Station" and two new "Power Rangers"... so I don't want her to feel bad.

Mother: C'mon! The kid's three-years-old! Do you think she'll know the difference?!

Daughter: Ma. She won't, but I will! Come on. I still gotta get her Easter coat and gloves... Oh yeah... she still needs a purse...

Mother: (pushing cart and rolling her eyes) And don't forget the candy for their baskets! (I couldn't help but wonder what "Christmas" was going to be like for Richie and Nicole if Easter was proving this lucrative already!)

As the holidays approach, most of us, as wives, mothers, daughters, friends, etc. probably have our minds on what we are going to do for others for Christmas and not what we ourselves want or will get. My kids probe me every year as to what I'd like and it drives them crazy when I tell them that I really don't want or need a thing and that I'm so blessed with them and their dad, my church, and dear friends. Life is already so full for me. Of course, they'll always say "Mommm! C'mon! You must want something!" And so, just as that question has been put to me, seemingly dozens of times, let me ask you, "What do you really want?" Now, I'm not talking about Christmas, but I'm speaking about your life. What do you want out of life? I feel compelled to write about this because it seems that I've talked to so many "Christian" women who are so "disenchanted" with the way their lives are going. For example, there are women with whom I've spoken who are totally convinced that their lives would be wonderful if only their husbands were saved. There are women who have saved husbands who are sure they could be completely happy if only their kids were saved. Then there are those whose husbands and kids are saved who whine that their lives would surely be pure bliss if only he made more money. Some women lament the fact that they never have any time to themselves, or that they don't have enough clothes or their own car. It's a sad commentary on the day-and-age we live in, but it seems as though many saved women today have become "professional whiners"—always looking at the things their lives are missing—when we should all be on our faces thanking God for all He has done for us. We as Christians are not supposed to base our happiness or satisfaction on what we do or do not have. The Bible exhorts us to be satisfied with Jesus Christ and to be thankful in and for all things.

I think that my husband would agree that there are some years, 2007 not withstanding, which prove to be stressful at times. Christians know that it seems at times the assaults from Satan never let up. And yet the Bible tells us that we are to be "strong in the Lord and in the power of his might," and to give thanks for all things.

How can we as Christian women be content under any circumstances or conditions? Is it possible to live above our "conditions" and get to the place in our Christian lives where we are not dominated and so greatly affected by the circumstances in our lives? If you are wondering whether or not that is possible, let’s do a little Bible study together. Look up the following verses and write down any part of the verse that tells us that we, as Christians, can have victory over sin, or write down any part that tells us that we are to live above the world. (Romans 6:1,2; Romans 6:11-14, and 22; Romans 12:1-2; Romans 12:21; I Corinthians 10:31; II Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 5:17; Ephesians 2: 1-10.)

Now that we've examined ourselves in the light of God's Word, let's probe even further. Answer these questions as honestly as you can and check all that apply:

1. Some of my highest goals in life are:

Success in my career.
To make a lot of money and retire.
To be the best wife and mother I can be.
To become someone who is sincerely interested in reaching people for Christ.
To get to the place in my life where I truly become submissive.
To get to the place in my life where I truly become selfless.
To be a picture of Jesus Christ to those around me.

2. The older I grow, I find myself becoming:

Disgruntled, disillusioned, and displeased with my life.
Greedy! I feel as though people should be doing more for me! I also feel an increase in desire for things.
Less and less satisfied and concerned with the things of this life, and more concerned about my relationship with Christ.
A person who has a sense of deep, inner peace and closeness to the Lord.

3. My prayer life could be described as:

Improving all the time.
Stagnant—I rarely find the time.
Frustrating—I can't seem to get up early and pray because I'm too tired. Forget about finding even ten minutes to myself during the day, and at night when I drop into bed, I barely utter an "amen" and I'm out.
Healthy and vibrant! I pray regularly and I'm seeing God answer my prayers.

4. On any given day I am:

Usually happy and cheerful as I go about my usual duties as wife and/or mother.
Frustrated and cranky—there is never any time for me.
Depressed because my life is not what I expected it to be.
Complainsive and whiny.
Sad, lonely, and bored.

5. I am greatly concerned over:

The fact that my husband is unsaved and how that affects me.
The fact that my children are unsaved and how that affects me.
My relationship to Jesus Christ.
My spiritual growth and how I am progressing.

6. You could describe me as being:

Usually cheerful, content, Spirit-filled.
Mopey, moody, dissatisfied with life in general.
Consumed by my problems.
Striving to be all the Lord wants me to be.
Overwhelmed daily—I have a very difficult time living the Christian life.
Apathetic—I really don't care much about anything anymore.
Argumentative.
Domineering.

Once you have listed the various Bible verses and once you have honestly discerned the areas with which you struggle in life (as you answered the questions accordingly), you should be able to turn to the Lord for help and strength. Sometimes, when we look deep into our hearts, we won't always like what we see. The truth is that it usually takes us a lot longer to see ourselves than it does for others to see the real us.

What do you want in this life? Do you want to walk around complaining and being disgruntled in front of your husband, children, friends, and loved ones? Do you want to be a picture of a weepy, whiny, grumbling Christian? In this season that’s made of memories, I'm sure that you will want to be thought of as sweet, kind, thoughtful, and appreciative. I'm sure you would want others to see you, not just as a light for Christ, but a beacon!

As a wife, mother, and pastor's wife, I know one of the greatest, most genuine gifts I can give to others this Christmas, would be for me to determine in my heart to love Jesus Christ above all things and be Spirit-filled. If I can keep my eyes off self and keep them on Christ and others, I know others will see Christ in me. And if others can see Christ in me, then just maybe the Lord can use someone like me to point them to a loving Saviour. Isn't that what Christmas is really all about, anyway?

Encouragingly yours,

Liz

"Sunday Mornings"

2007-11-06T13:32:00.000-05:00

The quiet of my room right now is even further softened by the late afternoon October sun pouring through the window. The house is snoozing and so are several of its inhabitants. All is restful and still, and a peaceful hush gently descends upon our home, not unlike the gold and red leaves that drift down ever so silently and settle upon our roof. It is another Sunday afternoon and, quite unlike its morning counterpart, Sunday mornings begin as a sleepy yawn but within minutes they are bustling and spirited and lively and vivacious. The showers are running and running, one right after another, the blow dryers are whirring and my favorite son-in-law has gone out for the coffee.

I am putting Sunday dinner together; the chicken (that in a few hours will appear on our table all golden and fragrant and mouthwatering) is being seasoned and tucked in a baking dish. The potatoes will be cut up and placed in a full pot of water. Assorted vegetables are set out and, usually, a big salad will be tossed and set in the fridge to chill. And the butter—heaven forbid I should forget to set out the butter, now, this early—so that it will be absolutely soft and perfect for buttering the bread that my Tim brings to the table every week. So much happens so quickly on a Sunday morning. A minute ago, everyone was sleeping and I am the only one downstairs—early—preparing lunch.

I turn around and Josh is back with the coffee, telling me some little anecdote or funny happening to start my day with a smile, and my good husband is fully dressed and heading for his office. The girls are upstairs laughing about something or giving their opinions of each other’s outfits or borrowing shoes. John runs up from the basement with his freshly ironed shirt and gives me a quick hug. I can’t tell if he did his hair before he got dressed or if his hair just never moved all night. I don’t know how he does that, but he looks beautiful to me.

I run upstairs to give another look at my Sunday school lesson before I begin to get ready and as I go, I move as stealthily as possible so that our three-year-old Madison will not discover that I am indeed in the vicinity or she will want me to play with her. Out of all her playmates: Beep, Johnny, and Madeline—I am the largest. But I do not have time to play this morning. I secretly slide our bedroom door open and slide it shut. Before I take two steps inside the room, I hear a small, running sound coming to my door. And then, a little, groggy morning voice—whose lips are pressed against the narrow space where the door meets the jamb, “Grammmmmmm?” You are in there? Grammmmmmm? Open the door so I can see you!” I quietly sit at my desk and take out my lesson. I can hear Jennifer trying to reason with her three-year-old daughter in the hallway. She is saying that Gram is busy and I feel a twinge of pain and remorse that I am not going to open the door.

My eyes fall upon the lines I wrote a few days ago. “Diamond Girls.” That’s the name I came up with for the series of lessons I teach to the high school/post-high school girls on Sunday mornings. I called it that because that’s what I think of all of them. These are the years that they’re under pressure—just like diamonds before they ever are discovered. There are decisions to be made and life changing choices and conclusions at which they must arrive. How hard it is to wait, sometimes, on the Lord’s direction, and not just give into the designs of the world. But if they can wait, they will emerge the beautiful, multi-faceted, sparkling gems I know they all are.

“Grammmmmmm?” I can’t resist. I slide open the door to see the beautiful Sunday morning princess who is wearing black patent leather shoes and a magisterial dress. “Are you coming to church?” She looks at me incredulously because I’m not dressed yet. “Yes! Yes!” I tell her, “…but Gram has to get ready now, okay?” I hug her and send her on her way—a way she does not necessarily want to travel, she lets me know—but Josh comes to my rescue and escorts her downstairs.

When I am ready as I’ll ever be, I step out in the hallway. The house smells like hairspray, perfume, and aftershave and a faint scent of coffee. One-by-one I hear the back door shut. “Bye mom! See you over!” We have been blessed for years now to live next to the church and, unless it is really pouring, we all walk over. And when the last one leaves, the oven is cooking the chicken and the potatoes are simmering on the stove. The table has been set and the butter crock has been placed closest to the butter people. The house is still and silent after we’ve all gone and the clock over the fireplace keeps perfect time until we all return. We are off—all of us—to the good business of another Lord’s day, where my good husband will open that Book of books to all of us and we will return home, never quite the same.