The Kingdom Is Like a Well-Wound String of Christmas Lights

The kingdom of G-d is like a well-wound string of Christmas lights. 

When I let my divinely-created imagination run wild,  envisioning Jesus of Nazareth saying something like this in 21st century America isn't completely unbelievable. When I read of a Gospel Messiah teaching by fig trees or hanging out in leper communities, using these tangible, visual displays as a context for his life lessons, I can't but help feel a bit of a disconnect. It's difficult to visualize let alone empathize with characters drawing their water for the day at a community well or hanging out around "healing pools" all day. But people putting up Christmas lights? At this time of year? Well, I can identify with that.

We were coasting around the other night with three doe-eyed kiddos in the back seat, enamored by our neighbors' sparkly and inventive holiday-themed yard configurations, clamoring for more once we decided to call it a night. Honestly, I don't care about hanging up lights at my house, but I have to admit, pulling into our driveway I felt a little embarrassed by our simple display of two are three strings. 

"Daddy, why don't we have fifty gazillion lights hanging from every crack and crevice of our roof or an elaborately timed light pattern decorating our lawn?"

That may not have been what my kids said, but I could hear it under the sighs they let out as we pulled into our dark garage. The truth is I never thought pulling out and fooling around with the tangled clump of lights was ever worth the time and patience required. My kids are making me think twice.

The kingdom of G-d is like a well-wound string of Christmas lights. At first glance, it may look like a hot mess; however, it is not as difficult as some anticipate. The unwinding is a pleasure. The set up is a joy. The plugging in is the glorious finale. The power source brings life to many.

My children taught me that within this analogy getting to know G-d via his flesh and blood takes on a whole new, abundant-life perspective. Paul says in Ephesians 1:17-20, "I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, will give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation that makes God known to you. I pray that the eyes of your heart will have enough light to see what is the hope of God’s call, what is the richness of God’s glorious inheritance among believers, and what is the overwhelming greatness of God’s power that is working among us believers. This power is conferred by the energy of God’s powerful strength. God’s power was at work in Christ when God raised him from the dead."

Lights...depending on how well I wind them up come December 31, I may just be ready to go Andrew Lloyd Webber and take my property to the technicolor level by decking the lawn, door, hedges, driveway, shutters, shed, and gutters come Christmas 2014. It could serve as a reminder of the "overwhelming greatness of God's power and the hope of his call"! Plus my kids'll think it's cool.

I Know You

"Hello, this is the Ferry residence. Eden speaking." 

"Hi, Eden, how are you?"

"Daddy!!!"

She knew my voice. No introduction needed. No catch up necessary. My daughter's ears recognized. And then out of her mouth spilt her heartfelt joy. 

Yeshua the Messiah said, "My sheep know my voice." "For those with ears to hear...hear." And when those supposed disciples get before him making claims to all that they have done in his name, his response seems cold, "Depart from me; I never knew you." 

Translation: You were never in my flock. You were never around long enough to learn the subtle nuances of my accent, follow the inflection within my tone, or recognize the ebb and flow of my lilt. You didn't know me.

Eden taught me to reexamine Yeshua's intention behind these verses. What's he after? Lambs. Sheep. Followers. Numbers. Is that it? Or is there more to his invitation?

My kids don't connect in their relationship to me as their father via their role or position as my children; albeit, it is forever in the background, the very foundation and reason we exist in this relationship with one another. No, they measure by my voice. Their spirits subterraneanly question, "When was the last time we were around Daddy? When will he be home?" 

I'm reminded that the most important part of my day is hearing the voice of my Lord. 

He is the good shepherd of my life

When he calls I am tuned in enough to hear him

I sleep well when I am by him

He leads me to the water that sustains me

He feeds me

He doesn't allow me to go down the wrong path

When it's dark I am not afraid because I feel him lying next to me

His staff protects me from danger and trouble

I will be by him, dwelling in his pasture forever

A Little Grace

"Daddy, you going to spank me?" 

"Yes, Avery, I am. You disobeyed what Mama and I told you to do. We said, 'Don't grab your cup until you sit down for dinner.' You didn't listen and you spilled your milk again."

Tears began to flood her tiny brown eyes..."But, Daddy, I little."

In four words, my precious three year old communicated a mountain of emotion and truth. There was only one way to respond. Give her what she didn't deserve. 

I'm not quite sure what happened in my soul when I decided not to spank Avery, but something felt different. Was the discipline warranted? Sure. I'd spanked her for her disobedience in the past. But I believe the Spirit quickened a truth in that moment and in the process taught me a valuable lesson, a lesson I needed to feel. Grace always overcomes.

Isn't that the truth Jesus came to embody? Didn't he come in our same flesh to give us a gift we didn't deserve and could never earn? I'm thinking about his entire life and ministry, not just the finale. His agenda was grace. I forget that...a lot! 

Take for example the sequence of accounts in Matthew 14. John, Jesus' mentor, fellow prophet, cousin and dear friend, had just been brutally decapitated. Jesus wants to mourn, as all of us would, and yet we find the Messiah doing damage control with the disciples' lack of faith. Just like Avery, they weren't listening to his instructions and they were getting easily distracted. 

Imagine your spouse or child or most beloved friend, the person who knew you the most and loved you the best, has been cruelly murdered. The last thing you might feel like doing is standing as a rock for others. Yet that's exactly what Yeshua ends up doing and in the process offers us a peek into the heartbeat of G-d. He heals the masses. Then shows them how to put food in their aching bellies. All the while he continues to teach his disciples, even amidst their lack of insight and poor choice of words, the core kingdom principles of service, faith, and love. He digs past his inexplicable sorrow and anguish and finds his glowing purpose. Grace. 

Did the disciples deserve to learn a hard lesson? Given their narrow mindedness and forgetfulness, he could have let them squirm under the gaze of the thousands. In the midst of the storm could he have let them pull at the oars a little longer, eventually allowing one or two of them to topple out of the boat before he came to them? Sure. Instead he puts his purpose before himself and perhaps what they may have deserved. Grace.

Failure. It's something I struggle with. Recognizing my own and forgiving others theirs. I'm learning to mirror his grace within those failure-moments and embrace his, and I'm thankful for innocent tongues like Avery's that remind me of his purpose for all of us. 

"But, Abba, I little."

"Grace."

ADONAI takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who wait on his grace. -Psalm 147:11

When Wrestle Mania and Massage Therapy Converge

Thirteen years ago to this day I was in Cottage Grove, Minnesota completing an internship with a small church. I stayed with the lead pastor and his family of seven for two months. As a nineteen year old college student I was pretty naive when it came to what running a large family entailed. I watched and listened a lot as Pastor John shared with me what it was like being the father of five children ranging in ages 1-13. Interestingly, it wasn't the religious leadership nuggets he shared that summer that hold the tightest reign on my brain's memory banks. 

While we watched a movie together one night he looked over at me and said words I'll never forget, "Jared, one day you'll have a family of your own. When you're stressed don't forget to let your kids climb on you."

At the time I thought his statement was off the wall weird. Now I know it's genius.

Tonight I let me kids climb on me. Partly because I've been exhausted from a 3 week DIY project and back to back 10 hour work days, but also because I wanted to play and I knew I needed some joy to kick me back into what life is all about. Heaven on earth.

What started as a "massage session" (aka let's-walk-across-Daddy's-back-like-it's-a-bridge) quickly evolved into Wrestle Mania XXX which then naturally morphed into a tickle fest. Even my youngest Ari joined in and before we knew it all four of us were rolling around, giggling, and having the time of our lives. Eventually Avery had a pee-pee accident and we had to stop but it was all fun...ironically, even cleaning up urine. And amazingly I feel recharged right now. Enough to write a post and go have a movie date with my wife.

Thanks Pastor John for the advice you gave me almost a decade and a half ago. I will never forget to enter into the childlike joy that my kids teach me through their touch, their laughter, and their play!

Jesus, Press the Stop Button!

No matter which word Bible translators use to describe it--furious, violent, fierce--the storm in Matthew 8/Mark 4 was no joke. It was big. Big as in we-might-die big. Not sure about you, but the closest I've been to that kind of storm was watching George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg's characters' futile attempt to batten down the hatches in The Perfect Storm on my 60 inches of High Definition, Dolby Digital surround sound experience. And even then it wasn't too scary because I could hit the pause button at any point, pop an extra bag of Orville Redenbacher, and pee before returning for the climactic finish. 

Can you imagine being one of the disciples with Jesus as the white squall rolled in over them? Struggling against the wind, doing your best to keep from flipping over. Shoveling water. Utter panic. Meanwhile, your beloved rabbi is taking a cat nap in the back of the boat. Was he really that tired from the day's activity? Was he testing them, observing the chaos through a cracked, "sleeping" eye? Or was this simply another life circumstance, naturally presenting itself to the Son of Man in order that he might show his followers that trust is possible and moreover necessary even in the most daunting predicament? 

As Katie and I read this favorite story to Eden and Avery for the first time, their anticipation grew with each line: Was it raining a lot? Was there thunder, lightning? How big were the waves? Did they die? What's going to happen to Jesus? 

After reading it through and fielding questions, we decided the best way to get a real sense of the atmosphere on the Sea of Galilee and the conversations that ensued between the thirteen of the them during this temptest was to reenact the scene.

Avery insisted on being Jesus. The rest of us filled in as disciples. I doubled as the prop manager. Fan on high--check. Small mattress boat--check. Disco lightning switch--double check.

The story was going as planned. Just as Peter (Eden) was on his way over board Avery decided to put her own spin on the Messiah character, "There're aligators in there" she shouted. She then attempted to grab the three of us and pull us into a tiny two year old bear hug, reminding us of Yeshua's promise in her own words, "Don't worry, everyone. I got you. I'll just press the stop button!"

Isn't that what the Messiah essentially did...pressed the stop button? What a refleshingly simple take on a profoundly over-complicated situation. 

Avery's creative interpretation on the interaction in the boat reminded me of just how often faith is diminished when adults allow a worrisome mentality to run amuck or delay a necessary spiritual check on fleshly fear. I'm guilty too often of this, just like the disciples. And every time G-d responds to my lack of awareness in the same way. He reaches for the stop button and says, "Trust me, little faiths, I got this!"

Is There Something Hiding Under Your Bed?

"Daddy, did Abba (Eden's name for G-d) make me afraid of the dark?"

Eden was crying when she asked me this late one night. Katie and I had decided to move Avery's bed out of Eden's room and into Ari's in order to help him sleep. Interestingly, the darkness wasn't an issue until she thought she was alone in it. Suddenly, clothes awkwardly hanging in the closet transformed into the Boogeyman. Oddly shaped objects under the bed morphed into creatures from the underworld. Needless to say, Eden was not supportive of the choice. (We did eventually move Avery back the next night!)

I was doing my best to calm Eden's little frightened spirit that night, but her question forced me to pause and ask myself, "How do I know that G-d didn't make us afraid of the dark?" 

Not long after that conversation with Eden I watched a teacher talk about resting. Resting from running from event to event. Resting from worrying. Resting from a life of scurrying about like a chicken with my head cut off. His words were speaking to me on many levels, but when he used a verse out of Genesis, one I had read many times before, as a basis for his point I got the answer to my question, "How do I know Abba didn't make us afraid of the dark?"

Here it is, "G-d called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. So there was evening, and there was morning, one day." 

Would G-d create something and then cause me, Eden, or any of His children to then fear that which He created? How can that be His heart for his children? I knew it was not. I did say something to this effect to Eden on the night she asked me, but I didn't have Genesis 1:5 in mind when I reassured her that G-d would never create anything with the purpose of scaring her. Somehow I felt more empowered in that truth after reading Genesis 1:5. That was cool.

Did you notice what came first in the one day? Light or darkness? Our days never begin with the dawn. Each one begins just after dusk. What's really intriguing to me about this verse is that both Night and Day are capitalized in the Jewish interpretation of this text; they're personified! Can I welcome Night into my house, not as an uninvited thief, but as an ancient Friend coming to visit, bringing comfort and rest? 

Imagine that thought for a minute. 

Rest instead of fear. Gladness instead of mourning. Joy instead of depression. Trust instead of worry. Love instead of control.

Well Hydrated and Strong Muscles

Avery, my middle kid, continues to blow me away with her prayers. G-d's teaching me via my children that prayers look so different. That's truly the beauty of prayer, isn't it? Just like conversations, there are literally millions of ways they can be spoken.

We recently sponsored the rescue of three Indian children from the world of human sex trafficking, and the organization sent us their pictures. Each night as part of our daily routine, we joyfully pray for all the rescued children Life for the Innocent has helped, but particularly the three we "know": Kunshi, Shari, and Tahir. We love it! The girls take turns praying for the children. They are a part of our extended family, and we hope and trust that one day we will meet them face-to-face in heaven.

It's important that we practice as a family listening to G-d speak to us, through our spirits, for each of these little ones. One night Avery, our ever-thoughtful three year old, prayed, "Abba, give Kunshi strong muscles and keep her hydrated. Amen!"

We were blown away by the simple specificity of Avery's prayer (on the surface), and yet there was much to unpack within her petition. Water and weight. Nutrients. Joy. Eternal life. I couldn't help but be reminded of Yeshua's promise of living water, the type that will satisfy eternally, "Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life" (John 4:13-14).

Avery taught me that sometimes it's not about what we actually say in our prayers but about what we leave unsaid. He knows my heart. He's praying through it. I can trust that as I submit to His Lordship in my life living waters will flow.

Let Your Light Shine, Don't Burn People With It

My daughter showed me that a follower of Yeshua (Jesus) can lovingly share their faith without being a jerk! I know, if you live within the western world of Christianity that may feel a bit oxymoronic. Perhaps it's because you've encountered a misguided religious zealot?

I find there's a disconnect for many people with what it means to share one's faith with someone who doesn't believe as they do. Have some mistranslated the Messiah's great commission? Instead of going out and making disciples, have they instead opted to go out and make converts? I've witnessed first hand this process, and unfortunately have seen many, believers in G-d and non-believers, burnt by a pressure-induced, guilt-laden message. Sadly, at one point in my life I was the one delivering that message, attempting to convince and argue people into Yeshua's Kingdom. I say "sadly" because I realized I was doing more harm than good--for myself included. I came to the realization that my faith journey had evolved into a Boy Scout Religion. Next badge to earn? This is probably why at one point about eight years ago I just stopped. I stopped striving toward the goal of getting people through the doors of a church or to pray a prayer with me. And I attempted to simply be a friend, loving, and leading by example. Just letting my light shine.

Last week my soon-to-be five year old, Eden, came up to me and shared that she felt Abba (her name for G-d) was telling her to go and give her Bible to one of our neighbor's kids. I believe I knew where this was going, but I wanted to test the motive and in the process use it as a teaching moment.

"Why do you want to give Sammy your Bible?"

"Because he can read the letters and I can't yet." Ok. My direct question deserved that answer, but I wasn't satisfied. Rephrase.

"How do you know he doesn't already have one to read?"

"Because he told me."

"You mean you asked him?"

"Yeah, he said he doesn't know Abba and doesn't have a Bible?"

Honestly, I was in shock. My four year old was asking a fourth grader about his relationship with G-d?!? How aware. How bold. How...loving.

We went over right after that and she offered her Bible to Sammy, her face lit up with a smile. It was the light within her, shining brightly, just as Jesus said in Matthew 5:16, "In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

What was the good deed, though? It wasn't like she was offering to tag team with Sammy in mowing the lawn or help quiz him with his multiplication facts. The good deed was her obedience to what she felt was G-d's voice inside her heart, leading her to offer a gift.

Eden taught me a great lesson that day. I can share my light without burning others. I can lovingly offer the gift of getting to know G-d without shoving my flame in someone's face.

Simple Prayers

We've all had those days when the ups and downs of life get to us. Thursday was that type of day for me, but I had one of those divine moments with my eldest daughter that brought me back to the joy of G-d's Spirit within. I asked her to pray for me. If you've never had a four year old pray for you I highly recommend it.

It went something like this, "Abba, help Daddy feel better. And help him to have a better day. Amen."

That's it? Yeah, that's it!

No grandiose petition. No verbose litany. No pre-packaged words. Just her heart for her daddy.

I think Abba loves that same level of prayer from His creation. I can imagine Him listening to the long-winded incantations and thinking, "Just talk with me!"

Eden taught me that radical, Spirit-centered joy can be rediscovered through the simplest, shortest, most honest prayers. To-the-point prayers. Loving prayers. Prayers centered on others' well-being. I think those are the types of conversations our heavenly Dad is just waiting to have with us.

Because You're Daddy

Thirty-two years. That's how long I went before I had to get stitches. Not a bad run, I say. But when you forget you're thirty-two and go diving for a loose basketball, stitches are bound to happen.

I wasn't crazy about the idea of having a small sharp object threaded through my upper lip, but I also didn't want to miss an opportunity to show my girls how one can be brave and at the same time a bit worried when going to get shots and stitches at the doctor. The convo with my second daughter went something like this:

Me: You know, Avers, Daddy's a little afraid about going to the doctor for a shot.

Avery: You can't be afraid.

Me (she had my attention): Oh, why's that?

Avery: Because you're Daddy. (Said with a very matter-of-fact tone.)

I think my heart actually melted in my chest that very moment.

How often have I wanted to say those very same words to my heavenly Daddy but balked in doubt? Not Avery. She said it assuredly. She said it with more faith than I feel I'll ever be able to muster.

I am reminded of the promise of G-d, "...as sure as the sunshine." Can I be that confident in Him? He says I can. Can I trust that He will be my rock when times are rough and fear crouches at the door of my heart? Can I bring my prayers and requests to Him with the same childlike faith that Avery showed me or will I let the circumstances of life dictate my response?

Can I rest on, "Because you're Abba-Daddy"?

What Do Riddles, Dunk Contests, and Cerebral Palsy Have in Common?

My children and I love to play guessing games, and "Solve My Riddle" is one of our favorites. It's a fun game that gets our minds stirred up. Typically, we choose things like animals and give each other three clues in which to guess the answer. "Solve my riddle...what has stripes, looks like a horse, and lions like to eat it?" You get the idea.

I was thinking about this game tonight after reading an article about an ordained minister in Hurst, Texas, Susan Slade, who has cerebral palsy. Ironically, I read the article right after watching the NBA dunk contest. Here are dozens of grown men living it up at All Star Weekend in Houston, dunking basketballs with ease while jumping over random objects and people. All the while, thousands of fans watch from the stands, in awe of not just the physical talents of some of America's best athletes but also of the privileged lifestyles many of them get to lead. At the same time, not more than four hours north of Houston, lies (literally) Susan Slade on a bed in the home of her great grandmother. She types out sermon notes and encouraging e-mails with the only two moving parts on her entire body--the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. The ironic juxtaposition couldn't be ignored.

Whether you're LeBron James or Susan Slade, every person lives their short earthly lives with a burning question. It's birthed as a whisper. As we get older, if we don't find an answer to this question, it will perpetually pull at the corner of our minds. Eventually, it builds into a steady drone. And finally, the closer we come to death, the more it crescendos into a cacophony, until those who have left it unanswered can no longer do so. What is the purpose of your life?

The beautifully-written Susan Slade article went on to illustrate that despite her condition, Susan has found a deep purpose in living her life focused on others. Her godly eternal perspective (i.e. faith) is what fuels her whole existence. And then I thought of a great riddle...

What can never be taken by force or ever forced on another person?

Susan Slade has the answers to both my riddle and this burning question we all share. It resides deep within her heart and is released every day as she blesses others through her unselfishness, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and love.

Here's the article link if you're interested: http://www.arcamax.com/religionandspirituality/religiousnews/s-1265164

And here's a link to a not-as-impressive-but-still-jaw-dropping list of best dunk contest dunks (according to Sports Illustrated): http://nba.si.com/2013/02/14/michael-jordan-nba-slam-dunk-contest-best-vince-carter-dwight-howard/#

Jesus' Greatest Miracle (Mystery)

"Eden, what do you think Jesus' greatest miracle was?" I threw out this random question last week, but my sharp-minded, ever-surprising 4 year old was ready for it. At this point, I'm thinking she'd bust out one of the favorite Gospel stories she was forever requesting at bedtime. Which Jesus would she bring into her answer: Water-walking Jesus? Maybe food-multiplying Jesus? Or surely she'd answer with the gentle healer Jesus!

Her response hit me square in the soul and blew away any answer I had previously formulated in my mind: "Daddy, you know Jesus' greatest miracle was when He was raised from the dead."

Little did she realize that wrapped up in her poignantly simple response is the greatest Mystery of our known universe, and the greatest stumbling block to faith in the G-d we call Abba, Son, and Spirit.

Now, I don't believe my daughter is necessarily some theological prodigy. She's not enrolled in the local Kindergarten Seminary for Bible Geniuses. She's just...a child.

In Matthew 18 Jesus was asked how one is to enter the Kingdom of G-d, and when His answer came I have a feeling those questioning Him had a very similar reaction as the one I had to Eden's statement--surprise mixed with a bit of embarrassment. He said we must change and be like children. I can see why.

Recently, I became like a child as it relates to the mystery of Jesus. I have been struggling for the past 7 years to wrap my mind around who Jesus is. I have been questioning all of the theology I was spoon fed as a Christian my whole life, including all of what I was taught on the way to earning my degree in theology. I toiled in the mire of my limited human-minded analyzation. I finally arrived at the conclusion...if I continue to wait for it all to "make sense," I'll never be able to "become like a child".

I felt like Peter when Jesus said to him, "You didn't get this answer on your own, Peter. My Father gave it to you" (Matthew 16:17).

Salvation is a gift. Coming to a place of accepting the role and nature of who Jesus is is a wonderfully mysterious present given to us by the Father. Accepting without fully understanding. I can't "figure it out on my own".

New questions began to arise within me, "How did G-d break off a piece of Himself, deposit it on earth in the shell of human form, kill it, revive it, reunite it to Himself, and then break off another piece of Himself in the form of a Spirit, separate from the Jesus piece, and then commission the Spirit piece to stay on earth? Furthermore, how did all three of those pieces reside and work together at the start of our human history to breathe life into a dry, dusty, dirt-y clay skeleton called 'Adam' (which means 'man')?" Huh? Can you run that back one more time?

Honestly, I don't know the answer. I'm actually chuckling as I write this because I'm ok with not knowing the answer after 7 years of striving so hard to know the answer. Ironically, all I had to do was ask a 4 year old.

I should have known what her answer would be...

"Daddy, you know it's magic!" (Translation: Mystery)

His Still Small Voice

How do you hear G-d? Do you hear Him at all? Sometimes I wonder if I ever really "hear" him. Is that word a misnomer in this context? Can we truly listen to God with our ears? Samuel would say, "Yes, definitely!" (1 Samuel 3)

As would Saul (who later became the Apostle Paul), Mary, Joseph, and John. G-d spoke to each of them in unique ways. His Word came down and they heard it with their ears. Ironically, they weren't even necessarily waiting and listening when He spoke. G-d interrupted their daily lives and spoke loud and clear the message He wanted them to hear. They perked up.

My oldest kid, Eden (she's 4 1/2), came to me and my wife a few days ago and told us that Abba spoke to her. Our immediate response was, "Oh, Abba spoke to your 'heart'? That's great, sweetie!"

Eden interrupted unquestionably, "No, not my heart. He spoke to my ear."

Katie and I looked at each other with a look that could kill...faith...

Ashamed and embarrassed, we admitted to each other and G-d later, "Who are we to doubt G-d's voice?" Why not? Why couldn't Eden hear his voice with more than her heart? Thankfully, a 4 year old's face-reading abilities are not quite as sharp, and she went about her business after her matter-of-fact declaration.

Eden taught us a great lesson that day: Be ready to praise and recognize G-d's voice when it comes and to have the faith to say, "Speak Lord to our ears...not just our hearts!"

Close to Home

 Jesus gave a directive to his disciples, those who believe he is the Messiah, the anointed/promised one from Abba G-d. He said, "Go out and do as I have done...make disciples." He didn't say convince others. He didn't say get in a debate. And he didn't ask us to collect converts, persuading as many as we can that Jesus' message is the best News out there.

I realized this past week that I don't have to travel far to find my first disciples. I don't have to journey down a dirt road to Egypt like Philip did. I don't have to be arrested and sent before an emperor (in my case, president) like Paul did. All I have to do is wake up, put my pants on one leg at a time, flip the switch, and walk out into the living room. My first disciples will soon meet me. They are still dreaming.

My first disciples love it when I teach them, although, initially, they often squirm when they don't get what they want. My first disciples love to hear me say "well done". And they love to cuddle in my lap and snuggle while we pray. My first disciples love it when I kiss their boo boos and tell them that Abba even cares about their scrapes and bruises. My first disciples are like sponges.

This is when it hits close to home...they are hanging on every move, every word I speak, because that's what disciples do. They listen and watch...a lot. I am responsible to them. I am accountable to them. The heaviness of this truth met me full steam. It's an awesome thought.

My children taught me that every parent is a disciple-maker, whether they take on the responsibility or not. Parents either teach toward Abba G-d or they teach away from Him.

G-d, help me...help all of us parents...to be great disciple-makers to our children.