Dry Ground

We moved to Texas almost three years ago.  We came in the midst of selling our previous home, with hopes of quickly buying a new home here.  We didn't feel that our expectations - or our 'want list', if you will - were very complicated.  It appeared something like:

• Within Budget (first priority)
• At least 3 bedrooms
• Basement
• Garage
• 2 full baths
• An extra space of some sort (and the garage doesn't count, though people in Texas, for whatever reason, believe that it does.)

Somewhere at about the 'garage' point things become more "wants" than necessities.  They are high on the priority list, but not deal breakers.  The garage vaguely fit the deal breaker category, but many of the homes in our price range, surprisingly, had garages.  Little did we know, a garage would be the least of our worries.  It was the basement that threw us off guard.  

When we sat down with our realtor the first time to explain our wants / needs, we read her our list and she literally laughed out loud (LOL) when we read the word 'basement'.  

Aaron and I saw no humor in the matter and stared at each other like deer in headlights.  What was so funny? 

It was then that she explained to us that homes in Texas just aren't built with basements.  The ground cannot support them, and in thirty years of selling real estate, she had sold one... yes, one... house with a basement.  

For a Southern Illinois girl who lives in a basement during storms, this was less than settling. 

Once I finally, yet unwillingly, wrapped my head around the idea that a basement was out of the picture, we began looking at homes.  We put in offers on not one, not two, not even three homes.  It was home number 4 that we ended up settling in, but lovely Texas soil reared it's ugly head in our dream house number 3. 

Perfect space, perfect square footage, fantastic back yard, ideal neighborhood.  They even accepted our 'perfect price'.  Fast forward to the inspection and $17,000 worth of hidden foundational problems were found.  Not only that, the problems were so bad, the foundation repair company that always brings their work with 100% lifetime guarantee said 'NO WAY' to guaranteeing it... ever... at all.  

That didn't sound like a popular resale, so we bowed out.  Our realtor agreed it was a great move, but her comment next stuck with me, "If you own a house in Texas, you own some kind of a foundational problem."  

Awesome.  

And I'm sure you wonder where all of this is heading.  (Don't worry, so do I.)

The longer we've lived here, the more we have learned.  Foundation problems here are due to drought.  The ground is not a little dry, it's way dry.  Walk around an area that's not 'watered' and you will see large, sometimes gaping, cracks in the ground.  The cracks are unsettling enough that you wonder if you are standing atop the next yahoo news thread of a sinkhole.  

For this reason, it's not uncommon for people to have sprinkler systems.  This seemed like a lavish upgrade for us at first, we quickly learned they are all but standard, and they aren't just so your grass is green.  They also own soaker hoses.  These hoses lay along the outside of your foundation and 'water' your foundation, because those big nasty cracks I mentioned previously, yeah, they'll show up under your house (read: eventually in your foundation) if that ground is not kept watered.   (And, another fun fact, most DON'T own gutters, because they WANT the rain to run off their houses near the foundation.)

The vicious circle comes in the drought that we are perpetually in.  This means that our foundation is not being watered naturally through rain, but normally means that we are under water restriction DUE to the drought which limits how much we can water.  That, my friends, = foundation problems.  

Moving forward. 

And for the first time I felt a vested interest in these lyrics: 

"In Christ alone my hope is found

He is my light, my strength, my song. 

This cornerstone, this solid ground, 

Firm through the fiercest drought and storm."

Did I mention we found a large crack through our garage floor the other day?  We did.  It's devastating, really.  I mean, when you are on a tight budget all you hear are dollars 'cha ching, cha ching,' whether it comes in the form of fixing, or loss in selling, it's dollar signs.  It's worry.  It's uneasiness.  

But this morning, when we sang those words, I appreciated it for the first time.  My foundation.... not the foundation of my house, but the foundation that I stand on perpetually, eternally, is crack free.  It is not uneasy.  It requires no worry.  There is no sinkhole looming, ready to swallow me up.  No drought strong enough can shake it.  My foundation, yes, my foundation is firm. 

And those storms I was worried about.  You remember?  The entire reason I needed that basement... yeah... they say - in homes without basements - you should gather in the most interior room, under stairs if possible, and if there is a commode, you should hang on to the commode (the plumbing runs deeper than the sinks... who knew?).  Risking sounding sacrilegious, Jesus is better than any commode. His truth runs deeper.  There is no storm that can shake me, be it physical or figurative, because my foundation IS Jesus.  

When the cornerstone is strong, the entire structure remains sound.  When Jesus is my foundation, there is nothing that can shake me.  My I remain strong in the Lord, pressing into Him, and standing confident on His promises.  

The ground may be dry, the storm may be fierce, but I shall not be shaken.  

-a

Why We Don't Tell Our Kids Jesus Lives in Their Hearts

Those that hate goodness are sometimes nearer than those that know nothing at all about it and think they have it already. - C.S. Lewis

Student ministry was good for my husband and I in so many ways.  There were, and still are, incredible rewards of watching kids grow in their love and understanding of the Lord, following after Him to their secular jobs, or their Christian jobs, or for some, even off to the ministry or mission - field.  We had direct access into speaking into the lives of kids.  I got to witness my husband teach and plead to God for souls of students walking through our doors each week.  We were able to see the ins and outs of what ministry looked like.  (Whether that's good or bad, you decide.) 

We saw it from different perspectives, too.  We viewed it on the front lines as a student pastor / wife.  We had the outside perspective when we traveled on the road and went in and out of churches.  I saw it on the front lines over 8 weeks of youth camps when I served on staff.  

If there is one thing we learned for sure it was this: Not all kids (teenagers, adults or elderly) who think they are saved really are.  To add to that, we often found that these were the ones who seemed furthest from the reach of the Gospel. 

I laugh as I write that because it's untrue and true at the same time.  God, of course can call to Himself anyone and everyone at any time that He so chooses, and my perspective is incredibly, horribly foggy.  In fact, I may very well be blind in reference to knowing what God plans to do in or with someone's life.  That even goes for my own.  My saying that those who think they are saved seem furthest from reach comes from the fact that a key part of salvation is the realization that one is in need of a Savior.  

We had a lot of kids walk through student ministry, or we watched a lot of kids walk through other student ministries or in and out of camp meetings, who knew they weren't Christians but they recognized their need for something.  Hubs and I would often comment that these such individuals were, "Right there..." (picture us squeezing our fingers just as close to touching as possible... thiiiiis close.)

On the opposite end of the spectrum we have two types of kids:

Type 1:  The do good / be good / talk good = must be good kid.  Typically they've grown up in a Christian home, they've made good choices, they do good works, and sometimes they may serve well at church, but ask them their salvation experience and the air gets foggy. 

Type 2:  Here's the kid with the 'salvation' experience story.  (Not to stereotype, because this is by all means not always true, but the story probably takes place at revival or student camp or somewhere of the like.  VBS as a young kid may also be a key player.)  Sadly, the salvation experience was a long time ago, and the lifestyle change has been minimal to non-existent.  This kid says he's a Christian in one turn and lives like the world in the next.  He / she also isn't the one to be declaring the Gospel much outside of a church setting.  

These kids were often the kids that kept me up at night.  They were the ones in which my heart pled to the Lord, "Please remove the scales from their eyes."  I begged God for that critical first step of recognizing their fallenness.  These were the ones that I felt God would so quickly save if they had any realization that they needed saving!  

And I've carried that into my life with own kids. 

Frankly - I prefer not to have child 1 or 2 listed above.  If I'm choosing, I want a child saved at 5 (B is nearing 5.5...) who lives like Jesus and loves like Jesus all the days of his / her life, but if I had to choose 1 or 2 above... I'd rather my kid not be confused about their salvation, and it's the ultimate reason that we DO NOT  tell our kids that Jesus lives in their hearts.  He doesn't. 

In their current state they are sinners.  They are fallen.  They are void of the Holy Spirit.  It sounds harsh.  I get that.  In fact, my eyes tear up a little bit typing it.  I long for the day that they come to know the Lord, follow Him, and His Holy Spirit indwells them guides them throughout their lives, but that is not now.  

We've seen it happen, we jumble the lines until they are complete jargon to kids.  We tell kids, in love and with good intentions, that Jesus lives in their heart, and then, be it weeks, months, or years later, they hear us say, "Come, invite Jesus into your heart and be saved," and the natural response is, "Well, been there done that." 

Where do we come up with this lingo anyway?  I could soapbox here, but I won't.

So as we have it, we are that family.  We are the family who cringes when someone tells our kids (or any kids, for that matter) that Jesus lives in their hearts apart from a salvation experience.  I am the one that will go as far as to immediately correct this for my own kids by reiterating to them that Jesus does send His Holy Spirit to live within  us after He saves us, but that it only happens if we are saved.  

B, just the other day, said something that familiarly echoed Paul's words, but there was a stark difference.  He said, "I really want to do the right thing, but sometimes I don't even know what the right thing is."  Paul, of course, knew the right thing because the Holy Spirit dwelled within him.  B does not have that full advantage right now, so I took the opportunity to gently explain to him that when Jesus saves us and gives us the Holy Spirit, the right thing is much easier for us to see.  I then explained, for now, that we can read the Bible to see what God says and listen to Godly counsel, mostly from mom and dad, at this point.  

Laced in good intentions, I fear we've tried to protect our kids from the gritty truths of salvation.  For salvation to happen there has to be a need for salvation... the need being that we are all sinners, that sin separates us from God (and not just in the large empty chasm realm... God requires sin be punished.  Hell is often left out of this conversation.), and that someone had to pay the price for such punishment.  I'm a firm believer that until you can really recognize sin for what it is and what it's consequences really are in your life, why would you have any need or desire to deeply love and follow someone you've never seen, met or experienced?!  And if we keep putting the "Jesus lives in your heart" sticker all over the foundational faith of our children, will they ever realize a God that's just and angry over their sin, and the deep love of Jesus (God Himself) who paid the ultimate price to take that sin away?  I fear not.  

Ultimately - God will save whom He will at the proper time in the correct context.  My goal for my own children is to be age appropriate in relating to them their need for a Savior and to create an environment of truth that would pave a clearer path towards a faith response, if God so wills.  

My prayer is that my words would be theologically sound, age appropriate and would lead my children to The Truth.  I'm realizing that speaking so may require me to unlearn many 'Christian' sayings I've accumulated over the years.  

-a

Once a Dreamer

Once I was a dreamer.

There was a time when I was told I could 'be anything I wanted to be', I could 'do anything I wanted to do.'  There was a day I believed it.

The time came with the shift that I could {and should} do anything that God called me to do.  I was encouraged to identify the desires He'd given me.  And I dreamed.  Man, did I dream.  And I believed He could achieve it through me.  Not the faith of a mustard seed, the faith of a mountain.  No money? No problem.  No access? No worries.  He's called me to it, He'll accomplish what He's set out to accomplish.

And I dreamed of the day that those dreams would become reality.

And fear beckoned.
Doubt emerged.
Discontentment settled.
Discouragement abounded.
Abilities rusted.
And faith dissipated.

The dream grew cloudy.
Far from reach.
Unrealistic.
Unattainable.

The grind ground them to dust.
The American Dream may have stolen mine.
I'm not even sure what the dream was anymore.  Or what they are.
And I wonder...

Did I miss it?
Am I too late?

Here's to praying that the God of grace
would shower it on a doubter, would forgive the fearful, and would restore just a mustard seed of faith
that He is not done with me.
That there is more than this.
That the dreams I was given...
That the desires of my heart...
were not mine alone...

but were His to begin with,

And may He fulfill in me His purpose, for His glory and His renown.
 

From Many a Year Ago - Easter

Can you see them?
They are moving, darting, running, racing
Chasing after one another to a tomb
Not just any tomb, but the Jesus tomb
The tomb that sat empty before three days ago
Now has been rumored to be empty again
But where did He go?
Where has He gone,
Can it be true that this man of no sin
Could rise from the grave and live once again?
A man, just a baby three decades ago,
Could love and could live
Could serve and could die
And now is it true that he could again be alive?
Is it so?
The man that fed thousands with a few fish and some bread
Could die on a cross and then rise from the dead?
That this man, what a man, could wash feet and speak truth
Could grow and speak and please and heal
Could pray and work and prepare a meal
But not just any meal – the Last Supper
His body, His blood
Poured out for us.
That this sin scarred on me could be washed away clean,
By his wounds we are healed, on that tree where He died
Could wash on the out and heal the inside.
Is it true? 
That in John 3:16 that says God loves the world,
That Jesus knew what this love would cost –
for His life to be slain for all who are lost.
A man, what a man –
Selfless, Sinless, Love that’s endless,
Caring beyond comparing
Would lay Himself down – guilty, charged
Bearing the weight of my lust...
Of my greed...
Of my lies...
And deceit...
Of my gossip and hate
That this man who’s so great could humble Himself,
And offer such grace.
And Jesus cried out, “Oh my God, why hath thou forsaken me?”
The rejection He felt,
The anguish of nails,
The weight of the sin,
All to hang there and die for us men.
But Jesus didn’t just die.
He wasn’t a martyr.
Yes He died on that day and was taken away
To a tomb where a stone locked in the dark,
Locked in the death
And a guard, He stood watch.
Day 1, Day 2 both passed away,
But on Day 3 was the race.
Word had spread quickly
the stone had been rolled,
The tomb was not closed,
The body was gone!
And racing to see was Peter and John
who got to the tomb to see folded grave clothes. 
And the Jesus we love – No, he didn’t just die
He rose from the grave and gave US new life.
Without resurrection it’s just a hero’s death.
It would be blood to cleanse us but no life within us. 
His rising was vital
Death could not win
He was God Himself.
He was perfect,
True,
Faithful,
Wonderful.
So that morning in folding the clothes as he left
He dusted his hands of death and it’s sting
Not just for Him, but for you and for me,
That we can be saved from ourselves and from the anguish of Hell
But that we could live –
That we too could be raised!
That when our lives here are done
the people can race because though our bodies will lie
We can live once again, away from the weight and the hurt of our sin,
We can live with the one who died in His love
We can dwell at His feet
Stare at His face
Sing
Shout
Love
Praise
Because this God who loved us
Knew His wrath was so great –
That His son came to live
And die
And be raised.