Childish understanding

We're trying to get back into the swing of "normal" since our move. Its been difficult, but there are glimmers of normalcy amongst the crazy. One area that is still far away from normal, is our church... though I should say our local gathering of like-minded people with a common vision to covenant together and become a church. But, in the name of brevity, our church.

To try to start feeling some sense of that normal church experience again, we have slowly been transitioning our kids back to their normal Sunday morning tasks. We are staunch believers and supporters of kids (once they have the ability to sit relatively calmly) being a part of the corporate gathering of the church. We want them to be with us to sing worship, to pray, and to hear the Word preached. To this end, our kids have previously been instructed on focused listening during church, with the intention of being able to discuss what was taught. We let them engage by allowing them to draw/color pictures pertaining to the sermon, and other such tasks. Now that they have gotten a little older, we decided that this Sunday, they would be tasked with answering 2 questions, with words instead of pictures:

What words from the songs, scriptures, prayers, or sermon are new to you, or you don't know what they mean?

What was something new you learned today, or a question you have about today?

Here is the point of my writing this today, to those who disagree with children being present in the corporate services of the church, or who think it is unfair to immerse children in teaching that is so far above their understanding, this simple exercise led directly to the following conversations over dinner last night:

Lydia, who is soon to be 8 years old, and has been sitting in "big church" for 4-5 years at this point, wrote down three words that she didn't understand as well as she wanted to: Mortal, Chronological, and a third one that we couldn't decide what it actually said. These words led us to a discussion on the temporal nature of our flesh, and the infinite nature of God. It led to the image-bearing immortal part of each individual. We talked about what it means in Romans 6:12 (she remembered the scripture reference that caused her to write down the word), what Paul meant about letting sin reign in our mortal body. It was a good conversation. Our look into Chronology, which netted a more practical discussion about the way the Bible is organized, and different ways we can go about studying God's Word, and the benefits of that.

Ben, who just turned 6 and has been sitting with us for 3 years now, wrote down no words. I teased him by asking what transubstantiation meant (a word used in the service). He of course didn't know, and actually didn't recall the word being used. But, even that allowed us the chance to talk about really cool words that he didn't get to learn about because he was struggling to pay attention.

But even cooler than any of that, when asked about new things that they both learned:

Lydia, a discerning Berean in her little body, picked up on something the pastor had said about Jesus' baptism, and how Jesus looked up into Heaven and saw the sky open up and view the Spirit. She was concerned because none of her experience with that story ever mentioned Jesus looking up. She was concerned about the validity of what she was being taught because it rang a different bell in her mind. We went through the New Testament accounts of Jesus' baptism, and she is right, none of the accounts actually say that Jesus looked up to see the Heavens open... simply that the heavens were open to Him. I explained that our pastor looked at those passages, and knowing that Jesus was here on Earth, and the Heavens are somewhere else (up from where Jesus was), that when they were opened to Him, he likely would have had to look up to see them. Ben had questions about this process too, questions of how God could open the heavens, what if God poked a hole in heaven so Jesus could see in, but then God accidentally fell into the hole? Such questions are, of course, silly to our adult minds... but it was a real concern for Ben, and allowed for deeper discussion of God's sovereignty.

Ben, for his part, picked up on hearing that none of Jesus' bones were broken. He wanted to know if that was really true. What a wonderful conversation about Old Testament prophecies, and Jesus' fulfillment of those prophecies. We talked about the likely search for Jesus' body by the Romans following the resurrection, and how no body was found without broken legs. We were able to relate that Jesus' body was never broken outside of the plan and will of God. In fact, the first reference we really see to Jesus being broken is at the institution of the Lord's Supper, when Jesus Himself broke the bread, declaring it to be as his body, broken for us. No one breaks the Son of God, but the Son of God who Himself breaks it. No one takes His life, only the Good Shepherd lays down His life for His sheep.

Don't sell your kids short on what they will pick up from a normal Sunday morning in the church. Don't shy away from allowing them to engage with God in a way that is challenging to their little brains. They won't understand everything, but they don't need to... God has ordained that He makes Himself visible and known to His children through the preaching of the Word. He will reveal Himself to our kids as they are prepared to receive Him, and it is very, very good.

Planted by the Stream

When I find myself needing encouragement, I like to read the Psalms. When things in the faith start to feel a little too brainy, and my heart is lacking, the writings of the Psalmists provide reality. They screw up, they doubt, they fear, they ask the same questions I find myself asking... they're real life. Tonight, we were talking about struggling. I know that I am feeling some dryness in my faith right now. The culture we've been transplanted into manages to suck life out of you pretty quick, turns me into a cynic even faster.

I'm not feeling useful, not feeling that whatever God's purpose for bringing my family out here is being touched. Momentary blips to the contrary wither and blow away quickly, leaving behind an uneasy, underlying disquiet... I've known deep discontent, and it's insidious assault, suffocating joy. I have neither the time, nor the desire to trod that path. We have the utter resolve that there is no denying that God brought us here, and that His purpose for doing so serves both the purpose of His everlasting glory, and our everlasting joy. So, with that battle raging in my heart tonight, I return to Psalm 1, seeking joy in the Word, comfort in the presence of my King, and rest for my soul.

"Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgement, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish." 

Not feeling fruitful? Feeling dry, weak, short on delight? What is the answer?

The Word! The man who is like a tree, planted by streams of water... water which yields fruit in its season, with leafs that do not wither, that is the man I desire to be tonight. He is the man who delights in the law of the Lord, who loves the Word of God. He gives his mind to the business of knowing the law. He is the man whose roots grow deep in the streams of living water, he is imbibed by this water, this word, this Jesus. He is a man who seeks after Jesus's promise that "whoever drinks of the water that I give him will never be thirsty again. The water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:14-15)

The Psalmist knew that the Word of God was the well-spring of living water, and only by rooting oneself in the fertile soil of the stream can a man hope to prosper, to bear fruit. And God desires for us to know that as well. 

2 months in

Two months ago today was the first morning we woke up as a family in Seattle. Two months (and a couple days) since last seeing our friends, celebrating and ringing in the New Year. What was strange at the time was that we had a sense that we weren't leaving home, but rather going home. We couldn't explain it outside of a heart shift, a working of the Spirit within us, shaking the dirt off our roots, preparing us for this new adventure. We were far from certain of what things would look like as we headed out for our 4-day voyage, what "home" would be.

So, two months in, two months of a new job, two months of a new city, two months of apartment life, two months of gathering with our new family. Two months of prayerfully seeking God's will for a gathering of people, seeking to covenant together to become a church. Two months of singing hymns A Capella, two months of meeting in a conference room on the 33rd floor... two months of eternally significant, small moments.

I am not one who is eager to love other people. I do not naturally find enjoyment in being with others. It is Spirit-wrought fruit in my life, evidence of the power of God at work to conform me into the image of Christ that I desire to put to death that fleshly want of solitude. It is by His grace alone that I find myself craving time with this gathering, craving corporate prayer, and by extension wanting to be among the darkness of our city. That last part ebbs and flows with greater regularity than the tides, but it is real. I want to be present among the debauched throngs of men that can be found throughout the streets. I want to hold up the precious jewel of the Gospel before them, allowing the light of the glory of God to shine through it's many facets, striking the hearts of men. I want to witness the resurrecting power call dead men to life. I desire to be an instrument, like Ezekiel, through whom God can breathe life into dry bones.

I want to not allow the stress and demands of my job to be used by Satan to pull me away from the purpose to which God brought my family to this city. I want to stand firm in the practices of daily Bible study and prayer, even though my eyes and brain are often tired. I want to invest into my fellow believers, time, prayers, fellowship.

Lord, help me to love. Help me to love my wife as Christ loves His church. Help me to love my kids and raise them up in You. Help me to love my brothers and sisters, to bear their burdens, and lessen their loads. Help me to love the least of these, your children, for by this will all men know that I am yours, that I would love them. Lord, help me trust your plan. Help me keep your mission, and your purpose as the priority of my life. Allow me the privilege of vulnerability and transparency that others may know my heart and my needs, that I would seek their support, help, and prayers. Lord, help me seek satisfaction in You, glorify yourself in my satisfaction. Lord, cause me to lie down and rest in your green pastures. Lord, I readily acknowledge your word that unless I abide in you, and you abide in me, I am only a fruitless branch, that I can do nothing apart from you. I cannot love as you command, I cannot bear other's burdens, I can not cherish my wife, or raise my kids, I cannot trust, rest, rejoice, not even breathe apart from you. To abide without you is to have myself cast off and thrown to the fire. But Lord, you also promise that if I abide in you, and your words abide in me, that whatever I ask will be done for me. You, Lord, are glorified in the asking of your children for your mercies, for by asking we will bear fruit, and thus prove to be your disciples. This promise is made for the joy of your people, to the full. Lord, I seek and ask for that fullness of joy that is found in your presence, and at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. --Amen