Tending versus Taming

Carla Barnhill wrote something in The Myth of the Perfect Mother that has stuck with me for the past two weeks:

God has crafted each child with hopes and dreams of her own, with a personality and set of passions that we are to tend, not tame.

If the title of this post didn't give it away, it is the idea of tending our children rather than taming them that has caught my attention. All too often I am tempted to tame our children. Both of our kids have energy and exuberance to spare. I am often tempted to "tame" them into being quiet and obedient. While the obedient part is good, I need to be careful not to expect them to be someone they are not. Maybe God didn't intend for them to be quiet. All the harder for me, perhaps, but how sad would it be to "tame" them so that they lost their joyful exuberance.

For example, I approach Eucharist with a sense of quiet meditation and respect. Josiah, on the other hand, skips forward, pops the bread into his mouth and chugs the juice. My tendency is to put a restraining hand on his shoulder and try to "tame" him into participating in Eucharist the same way I do. A few weeks ago a friend from church told us how much she enjoys watching Josiah take Eucharist. She appreciates his joy. What a good reminder both that Eucharist has multiple layers of meaning, one of which is joy at the resurrection, and also that different people relate to God in different ways, including Josiah. Quiet meditation and joyful exuberance can both be appropriate responses during Eucharist.

I struggle with discerning tending from taming, but Carla's quote was a good reminder for me to be more concerned with tending our kids God-given gifts and passions than with making them polite and well-mannered.

The Myth of the Perfect Mother

I recently read Carla Barnhill's book The Myth of the Perfect Mother. In the beginning of the book Barnhill argues that evangelicals have uncritically adopted a secular view of women that is unbiblical and creates an unnecessary burden on moms. Here is a part of the book that caught my attention:

It's also a mistake to assume that the "traditional" family model we associate with the '50s had anything to do with conservative Christian values or a generation of people who finally got family "right." In truth, our modern understanding of family owes more to Richard Nixon than to the church.

In an effort to make the American way of life appear superior to Communism, mid-century American political leaders promoted the idea that in America, every family could own its own home, that jobs were so plentiful and lucrative women had the luxury of staying home, that capitalism allowed every family to own a car and a washing machine. The middle-class suburban family was created to make America look good... The same trappings--the house, the yard, the family itself--have been incorporated in the evangelical assumptions about women (and to some degree men...). We have translated the '50s model of the perfect American family to the model of the perfect Christian family. In doing so, we have taken away a women's ability to follow God's leading in her life and replaced it with a kind of bondage to an ideal that isn't consistent with the call of Scripture.

This makes me wonder which ideals of motherhood I hold that may be unbiblical. What assumptions do I make about being a "good" mom that I should examine more closely? How can I honor God in my mothering without allowing the role of motherhood to supersede every other area of my walk with God?

On a related subject: I was thinking more about the tension between taking care of our children and serving God more this week. It occurred to me that in the Old Testament God was known as a god who did not require child sacrifice. While other nations routinely sacrificed their children to their gods, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob despised the idea. God tested Abraham's faith by asking for Isaac, but in the end God stopped Abraham from actually sacrificing Isaac and provided an animal for the sacrifice.

Our children should not be more important to us than obeying God, but I don't think God asks us to sacrifice the lives of our children. This isn't always an easy balance to maintain though, especially in a culture where we work so hard to give our kids every opportunity and advantage. I know I am still working through what this means in our family. Any thoughts?

Receiving God's Blessings

Recently I have been practicing the discipline of receiving. While this may not sound like much of a discipline, I am finding that it is not always easy. What do I mean by the discipline of receiving? I am being more intentional about looking for ways that God may wants to bless me. It may not sound easy, but it can be. At least, it's often difficult for me because receiving God's blessings often requires relinquishing my own plans and ideas of what is best for me.

Let me be clear, I am not talking about a "health and wealth" type of blessing. It's all too easy for me to accept that kind of blessing. Instead, I often have a difficult time accepting God's grace and peace. I try to do everything on my own and put too much trust in my own accomplishments. At the end of each day I feel best about myself when I can recite a list of things I have accomplished. As in, "Today I worked for four hours at IVP, cleaned the house and took the kids to the park. It was a good day." The underlying assumption to this type of thinking is that my value is directly related to what I do or accomplish each day instead of who I am.

This doesn't leave much room for God's grace or peace. I usually rush through each day and things like playing with my kids and praying become "tasks" I "should" accomplish rather than relational gifts. Instead of experiencing God's grace and peace, I feel stressed and guilty. Instead of receiving God's blessings for me I try and earn his favor. How silly.

One Sunday I was feeling particularly stressed and worn out. "I really need some time to myself today," I thought. "I'll escape into a good book for the afternoon." I'd been reading for all of five minutes when Josiah ran up and declared, "I want to play tennis. Can we go play tennis?" I stopped reading for a moment to consider his request. Maybe Al would be willing to take him. I could stay home and put in a video to keep Elijah occupied. Then I remembered my spiritual director's comment that I look for ways to have more fun, to receive fun as a gift from God. (As a "one" on the enneagram, "fun" is a sign of health for me.)

Hmmm, I thought, maybe God is inviting me to have fun with my family today... So instead of being self-absorbed and clinging to my perceived need to read for awhile, I went out to play tennis with my family. And do you know what? I had fun. I had more fun than I would have had reading my book. The physical activity was good for my physical health, the connection with family was good for my emotional health and my awareness of this simple thing as a gift from God was good for my spiritual health. And by receiving this gift from God I blessed my family. Al and I felt more connected as a couple and as parents and both of our kids had fun.

I think the discipline of receiving is related to God's will, but from a different perspective than I am used to. Instead of asking, "What is God's will for me today? What does God want me to do?" I am asking, "What does God desire for me today and how can I best respond?" The focus shifts from me and what I can do for God to what God wants to do in my life. When I receive and accept God's desire for me, I find that his desire (his "will") often blesses me so that I can bless others. Not every blessing looks like a good gift when it is first offered, but when I decide to accept something as a gift from God it often ends up blessing me in a way I did not expect.

So I am continuing to look for simple ways to receive God's blessings each day. Sometimes that means choosing to have fun instead of completing one more task. Other times it means taking a moment of quiet to connect with God or someone else in the midst of a busy schedule. I am finding that I feel more at peace and less self-reliant and that God's blessings to me often make me a blessing to someone else.

Salvation Belongs to Our God

One of the things I appreciate about Anglican worship is the commitment to the public reading of Scripture. Each week we read four lessons, usually one from the Old Testament, one from the Psalms, one from the Epistles and one from the Gospels. Some weeks I am particularly encouraged by one or more of the readings.

This week, it was the reading of Revelation 7:9-17 that made me teary. I had a number of things on my mind. Al and I were leading music for the service and I was feeling inadequate to the task. The songs I had selected felt uninspired and I came into worship feeling frazzled and hurried. We had also just learned that Bob Webber, whom I studied under and respected, had passed away the evening before. In addition, I'd recently read an account of the martyrdom of three men in Turkey. I did not know these men, but felt somewhat connected to them because they worked in publishing.

The reading began:

9 After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. 10 And they cried out in a loud voice:
"Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb."

11 All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, 12 saying:
"Amen!
Praise and glory
and wisdom and thanks and honor
and power and strength
be to our God for ever and ever.
Amen!"

I was startled to realize that a week ago, while planning worship for this service, I had selected "Salvation Belongs To Our God" as one of the Eucharist songs. I hadn't known this Scripture was part of the lectionary for today when I was choosing music and was encouraged that the Holy Spirit had inspired my choice of songs even though I felt uninspired. I am thankful that even when we feel inadequate, God chooses to work in and through us to the glory of his name.

The reading continued:

13 Then one of the elders asked me, "These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?"

14 I answered, "Sir, you know."

And he said, "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 15 Therefore,
"they are before the throne of God
and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he who sits on the throne
will spread his tent over them.

16 'Never again will they hunger;
never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat down on them,'
nor any scorching heat.

17 For the Lamb at the center before the throne
will be their shepherd;
'he will lead them to springs of living water.'
'And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.'"

As I listened, I had the image of Bob and the three martyrs worshiping before the throne of God, their robes washed white. And at that moment, instead of focusing on the sadness of their deaths, I was reminded of the victory of Christ over death in a very real way.

We sing an "Alleluia" after the Epistle reading to prepare for the Gospel reading. I was so overwhelmed with God's goodness that my heart sang "Alleluia! Alleluia! Give thanks to the risen Lord," but my voice was choked up and I moved the microphone away allowing the congregation to carry the song as we joined all those around God's throne praising the Risen Lord.

Disorderly Disciplines

I recently read Jenell Williams Paris's article, "Disorderly Disciplines" (Christianity Today, May 2007) where she talks about how becoming a mother ruined her ability to be disciplined about spirituality.

Many of the spiritual disciplines were developed by monastics who valued regularity and solitude; words like order and rule describe them. Family life, while no less holy than monastic life, makes consistent order impossible. The wild rhythm of parenting persuades me that monastic life cannot provide the only model for spiritual discipline. In fact, some seasons of life may be better suited to spiritual undiscipline. In contrast to the stability of monasticism, motherhood offers a catch-as-catch-can spirituality.

I am drawn to the idea of spiritual disciplines, but have always found it difficult to maintain any specific discipline. I've practiced various disciplines including daily quiet time (reading the Bible and praying), practicing solitude and silence, journaling and listening to an audio devotional. Each of these disciplines has been helpful in its season, but I've never been able to maintain a single discipline for very long. Becoming a mother has made most disciplined approaches to spirituality difficult at best and impossible at worst. More often than not I end up with a "catch-as-catch-can spirituality" comprised of bed-time Bible stories, God-moments with our kids (those wonderful and often unexpected opportunities to talk to our kids about God and God's work in the world) and meal time prayers.

Jenell's article was a welcome reminder that spirituality does not look the same for every person or during every stage in life. Some disciplines that are appropriate and helpful during one stage of life may be less helpful, or maybe even inappropriate, during a later stage of life. We cannot expect everyone else to connect with God in the exact same way that we do.

A few years ago I was part of a committee that was drafting a commitment card for worship team members to sign. One person on the committee wanted to include a commitment to spending 15 minutes with God each day. I forget if he specified that those 15 minutes were to be spent reading the Bible and praying, but that seemed to be the expectation. I was upset and argued for different wording. Yes, it is important to spend time with God and reading the Bible and praying are good spiritual practices. But spirituality doesn't look the same for everyone.

I do not set aside a specific amount of time to spend with God each day and cannot name a specific discipline I am currently practicing on a daily basis. And yet I find myself connecting with God and seeking his grace. I find myself praying as I read or listen to disturbing news, when I learn about a co-worker who is struggling or when I am at my wit's end with the kids. I am moved by children's Bible stories. I am reminded of God's grace in the simple things our kids say and do. I hear God's whisper in the books I read, the music I listen to and in conversations with friends. I see examples of God's love for me in the way my husband shows his love for me.

So, with Jenell, I practice "disorderly disciplines" and am thankful that God is willing and able to meet us in different ways, often using the mundane things in life to remind us of his character and grace.

Tired

I am tired.

I am tired of tasks that never seem to end. I am tired of scheduling doctor and therapy appointments. I am tired of vacuuming, sweeping the kitchen floor and doing laundry. I am tired of rearranging my schedule to fit everyone else's needs. I am tired of reading book contracts and catalog copy. I am tired of trying so hard to be perfect at everything. It is really wearing me out.

The other day Elijah had his 2-year old check up. I was feeling a little ill, so Al agreed to take him instead. As soon as they left I started to worry. I am the one who usually attends Elijah's therapy sessions and medical appointments. What if the doctor asks Al something and he doesn't know? What if Elijah needs a clean diaper after they weigh him? What if Al doesn't ask the right questions or remember all of the doctor's recommendations? So I grabbed the diaper bag, had Josiah put on his coat and shoes and we rushed out to meet Al and Elijah at the doctor's office. It turns out that Elijah did need a clean diaper and I probably provided more information than Al would have been able to, but I don't think it was as necessary for me to there as I had convinced myself.

My spiritual director is convinced that it would be good for me to have more fun, to receive opportunities to enjoy life when I am tempted to strive towards perfection instead. You would think this would be easy, but my inner critic actually makes this somewhat difficult. My inner critic takes the invitation to, "Go ahead and have fun once in a while" and makes it a command, "You should have more fun." So even having fun becomes another task instead of an invitation. And so, I often feel guilty no matter what decision I make. If I play with the kids all morning, I feel guilty that I didn't clean the house. If I clean the house, I feel guilty that I didn't play with kids. If I play with the kids and clean the house, I feel guilty that I didn't finish some other task on my never ending list of things to do.

I am thankful for the days when I am able to receive opportunities to enjoy life, for the times I am able to be present to the moment instead of deciding what task needs to be accomplished next.

A Great Bible Story Book

I used to feel guilty that our family did not have a family devotion time. Then I realized that we actually do, I just enjoy it so much that I did not consider it an official discipline. Each night we read a Bible story and pray together as a part of our kids' bedtime routine. We sometimes add additional activities during special times of the year like Advent and Lent. Our five-year old enjoys some parts more than others, but reading a Bible story is usually our favorite.

We have used various Bible storybooks over the past five years, but my favorite is The Jesus Storybook Bible. We started reading this like we usually read Bible storybooks: pick a story and read it. After a couple of nights we realized that this book was actually intended to be read from beginning to end, so we went back and started at the beginning. Each chapter explains the story's significance as part of God's great rescue plan. The writing is simple enough for children to understand but creative enough to keep the attention of kids and adults. The illustrations are very well done, too. They reflect the ethnicity of the characters, which is something our family appreciates. Jesus is portrayed with dark hair and eyes and looks fairly ordinary, a nice break from portrayals of Jesus as strong and handsome with blond hair and blue eyes.

I love this book! I think the best feature is that each story focuses on God, which is a refreshing change from Bible stories that make each and every story about you, the reader. Instead of using the stories to convince the reader to be more obedient or faithful, these stories focus on God's redemptive work throughout history. I sometimes get a little weepy while reading. And the true test; when we get to the end of each chapter our five-year old is eager to read the next chapter. We peek at the next page, showing just a glimpse of what is to come, then close the book saying, "Oh, we can't read that yet. That story is for tomorrow."

Psalm 139

I used to like Psalm 139. You know, the one where the psalmist says,

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

In December 2004 we learned that our son, Elijah, had Down Syndrome. Since then this Psalm has made me angry. I tend to think that Down Syndrome is part of living in a fallen world rather than something God created on purpose, but this Psalm seems to indicate otherwise. So, I have been complaining to God, "If you knit Elijah together in my womb, why isn't he 'perfect'? He has a birth defect. How am I supposed to call that wonderful?"

Now, let me be clear, I love Elijah. He is a great kid with a wonderful laugh and he brings us so much joy. When we first received his diagnosis I thought he might be a burden to care for, but he isn't. Taking care of Elijah is not that much different than raising his brother Josiah.

That being said, I still irks me to think that God intentionally "knit" Elijah together with an extra chromosome and I have been quite open with God about this. I have been reading Philip Yancey's new book Prayer. His chapters on unanswered prayer have been particularly helpful. Last night I read the chapter on physical healing, which mentions Down Syndrome specifically and talks about how God usually chooses to work within the laws of nature. Miracles happen, but they are the exception rather than the rule.

When I finished the chapter I talked with God regarding Down Syndrome yet again. And this time the image that came to mind was God carefully knitting a child together, but using yarn that was dirty and broken. The yarn was not his choice, but it was what he had to work with and he made the most beautiful child he could using imperfect materials.

Elijah is a wonderful creation of God. He may not be "perfect," but God took imperfect genes and "knit together" a beautiful child. Elijah is fearfully and wonderfully made. I don't understand the mysteries of how God works in a fallen world, but I trust his goodness. And for the first time in a long time Psalm 139 brings tears of joy instead of tears of pain.