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.

Mirror Images

Growing up do you remember promising yourself that you'd never sound like your parents when disciplining your own children? Oh, the one-liners were truly ridiculous. My favorite: "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out!" Really?! You actually threatened to kill me if I didn't obey you, Dad? Nice tactic! (I think he'd agree now that this was pretty silly. Even if it did get me to treat my younger sister with kindness for 15 minutes!)

I made a vow when I became a father that I wouldn't turn into "that" phrase-spouting parent, caught in the hype of a moment, ready to dish out groundless ultimatums. Admittedly, I've had my fair share of those moments. We try so hard as parents to be good to our kids, but quickly learn that our "junk" will eventually make it's way to the surface, and we'll have to face it in the words and actions of our kids. They are a reflection of me.

I'm a worrier, and I hate that part of my "junk". For sure, I can get some good mileage out of it. When I worry I anticipate what's going to happen, and then ultimately I am better able to control the situation, thus getting the result I desire. The comedic irony in that approach is that I cannot worry long enough to anticipate every possible situation. One can easily end up in the mud, spinning his wheels in frustration, with this type of approach to life and it's challenges. I've found out the hard way (eating a lot of mud!) that trusting my heavenly Abba is a far better approach than worrying, but the junk still comes out! And the rub is that my kids see it and respond. In turn, they then begin to worry as well. It's not rocket science. They repeat what is modeled. If I want my kids to be a ball of anxiety when it comes to test-taking in school then I will let them see me hit the panic button over obligations and responsibilities. Do I want my children to value material possessions over self-controlled, thought-out spending? All I need to do is go through my paycheck right after I receive it.

Ultimately, I do believe that God uses this dynamic as a mirror image for parents and eventually children. The good news is that He can receive glory from the growth steps we take as His ever-developing creation. When faced with the sobering reality that we're watched models seven days a week, parents can either fold-up or step-up. I would imagine that most parents are interested in stepping up. One's heartfelt interest is quite different than translating desire into action, though.

My children have taught me, that the growth for both parent and child happens in the striving and in the realization that we cannot go it alone. I know I need others...friends' wise counsel, my wife's gentle encouragement, my childrens' kind forgiveness, and most importantly, my heavenly Abba's Spirit springing forth inside me, compelling me to change! 

I Choose Us

I try to remember to ask my girls at bedtime what their "high" moment of the day was. Last night, Eden said that she loved the new candy she received from a birthday party. "What was yours, Daddy?" she responded. Now, I had just gotten off the phone with a close buddy of mine. He and his family are in a very similar life situation as us: one teacher income and children. Our lives as D.I.N.K (Double Income No Kids) couples is over, and both my friend and I have gone through moments where we questioned the future and if we could "make it" living with the one income. Last night's conversation was one of those times.

It's easy to get discouraged when you don't have a ton of money, because in our culture we're bombarded with the message: money = security. But therein lies the problem. Salary may provide physical comforts but it really doesn't provide lasting security. Cash would buy us stuff as a family. Would my girls complain if they could see the Disney princesses every year? Would I complain if I could take the whole fam on an international trip every summer? Certainly not, and Katie could easily go back to work in a heartbeat if she wanted the bigger house more or if she needed to because I got injured and couldn't work, but in those moments when I question, "What did we get ourselves into? Are we going to make it?" I remember the treasure we get as a family by giving up a double income: time!

We've decided as a family that time on the clock of life is our most precious commodity. I wouldn't trade another income for the sound of running feet and, "Daddy, you're home!" I wouldn't trade an engorged bank account for the joy I get in knowing that my children are receiving the best care in the world because it's their mother who's giving it! Sure, I'd love a bigger house for our growing family, but not at the cost of Katie giving up her desire to be at home with her little ones.

We recognize that our goal in this season of our lives is not the same as everyone else's, and I'm not saying it's better. Just...us. We also understand that it may not always be this way. We realize that with time and experience comes opportunities to make more. In the meantime, though, my kids have taught me to take pleasure in the simple things.

My high of the day yesterday was the joy I felt after that phone conversation with my buddy, because it brought me back to the decision Katie and I made to sacrifice and invest the time in our family. Nicholas Cage sums it up best in The Family Man, "I've seen what we can be together, and I choose us."

Who Will Remember Me?

I recently walked through an art exhibit where the focus was on the reality of life and aging. The walls were littered with photographs of...well, old people. At first I thought this was an unusual choice and questioned who would want to come and see pictures of graying, wrinkled-by-life individuals. What I later realized was that the author was offering a different perspective, another lens in which to look at one's life, not just life in general.

For thirty-somethings like myself, individuals arguably in the "prime" of their lives (although, I'm not sure my body would agree with that statement after I've given my kids several "bucking bronco" rides on my knee), it's not often that we think of the latter half of life. On the contrary, I often feel making it through each day is a cause for celebration. I'm in the now because the now is screaming in my ear. Sometimes literally. Three month olds are often known for their lung power. But I need to think with the end in mind. It's healthy. Jesus said, "The Kingdom of God is here; it's now," but in order to fully appreciate this idea I need to understand what my life is for. I need to see the end. Where am I going with all of this?

My kids are a constant reminder for me of why I'm here. Granted, I'm not one of those parents that believes that the sun revolves around my offspring, but I am a strong believer that God placed them in my life for a purpose, a powerful one at that. And that it takes an investment of everything I am, my life, to foster each of their individual purposes. The art exhibit brought this truth into clear focus for me. When I'm old and gray, when time's ticking arm has slowly worn away at the corner of my eyes, I want someone to remember me, remember what I stood for, remember that God was the most important piece of my life and that hopefully when they look back over my days they see His handiwork. Who better to remember than my children?

I think we all want to be appreciated, but my kids caused me to question: Do I want to be remembered and what do I want to be remembered for?

Slinkies in Heaven

My oldest, Eden, is always busting out great one-liners. The other night at bedtime we were talking about heaven (one of the topics she likes to discuss). She's very curious how one gets to heaven, who lives there, and if she'll be able to go one day, as if it was a vacation spot.

She asked me, "Is Jesus up in heaven?"
"Yes, I think he is. And actually he said he was getting a house ready for us for when we arrive."
"Really, Daddy. What kind of house?"
"A big one. It's called a mansion and it has stairs."
"YES! I get to use my slinky! Daddy, that means so much to me that Jesus wants me to use my slinky in heaven."

This really made an impact on me. Eden taught me that I should never stop dreaming. The fact that she immediately thought about how much Jesus cares about her made me pause and think about what he might have in store for me in heaven. What do I love to do?

So, here's my "slinky" list:

1. A full basketball court with breakaway rims, because you know of course in heaven I can dunk! I like to think that Manu Ginobili will be there as well and we can team-up together for some two-on-two.

2. A motorcycle. I'll never get to ride one here on earth. Too much negative family history involving motorcycles, but in heaven there's no risk of dying, so bring it on. It'll be nice to not have to wear a helmet. Is there wind in heaven?

I'll probably be adding more as time goes on. What's on your list?

A Labor of Love

I love to "knock stuff out"! I'm not referring to going Muhammad Ali on someone. I love to get stuff done, even if it requires ignoring everything else. I guess I'm a stereotypical "guy" in that sense. My knock-it-out tendency came out big time while I built my kids a backyard play fort a couple of weeks ago. I did eventually finish it, but much patience was required and interruptions, of course...lots of interruptions to clean boo boos, get water, get Dora Band-Aids for boo boos, potty breaks, diaper changes, feedings, and snuggles after Dora Band Aids for boo boos were applied. Whew. My kids taught me/reminded me that nothing great was ever built in a day, and in my case, 7 days and still counting (I'm still putting on the final "touches").

I had to continually remind myself, particularly when I was feeling exasperated from being interrupted for the millionth time, who I was building the fort for. Was it for me? To satisfy my own personal carpentry goal? Or was the purpose to gratify the desires of my kids' hearts and to provide some moments of peace for their mother? Oh, yeah, that's right...it was about them!

Now, rather than climb on our furniture and hang on our house's door handles, my little squirrels get to climb and play to their hearts' content on this...

 

Granted, I had a blast busting out the power tools and going Jesus on this thing, even if my hand looked a little beat up 150+ screws later...

Although, I'm not sure if Jesus had access to a Ryobi hand saw. Nevertheless, every time my daughters broke my concentration and needed something or when Eden wanted to be my "special helper" or when Avery wanted to pretend to hammer something, it brought me back to what the heart of this project was all about: connecting and bonding with my kids and blessing them with an experience with their daddy that hopefully they will never forget.