.A Simple Command - Or is it.

Jesus told the disciples to go and preach  the gospel. It was a simple command. There is really not anything confusing about it. Yet, for so many of us we have stayed. We have stayed inside of our churches and think that discipleship means making our churches look pretty and hanging billboards and dreaming up programs and events, so that perhaps "if we build it they will come." We stay inside our homes and claim that our mission is our family, and we idolize our family time - protecting it with everything inside of us. We keep our children at home and teach them. We stay, and we swaddle deeper and deeper into this little comfortable cocoon that we have created. We sterilize our surroundings, and we make excuses and rationalize away that simple command.

I know, because I have done it.

But in order to fulfill the command we have to go amongst the people. We have to go to the margins, and we have to engage people like Jesus did (And Jesus engaged some shady characters - like prostitutes and tax collectors. There wasn't anything safe or sterile about the people He chose to rub shoulders with.) We have to get out of our churches and turn our focus and attention outward, get out of our home churches, get out of our little sterile communities - our cell groups, community groups, etc., and we absolutely have to start mimicking Jesus. We cannot rely on others to come to us - even if we invite them, even if we make our homes and churches and "Christian" communities inviting. Jesus went. We are called to imitate Jesus. (1 Corinthians 1:11)

From everything I can understand about this command, it doesn't exempt stay-at-home mommies - not even the homeschooling ones - like me. I don't think that we can use the excuse of raising our children to hold off on the Great Commission until later. I have heard (and used in the past) the argument that says by a mom staying at home with her children she is doing her part to participate in the Great Commission, but I am not so sure if I believe this anymore. The very first verb in the Great Commission is go. If this is the critical mission for every person that claims Jesus as their Leader, then why are so many of us staying?

I do not think that this was a casual suggestion for a few crazy radicals, and yet I have lived like it is exactly that. I know we are called to go and preach. I know every single follower of Jesus has this call on their life. I am  now understanding that being a stay-at-home mommy does not give me a free pass. But I also know that not every single one of us is meant to go out and buy an airplane ticket in order to move into the jungle of Africa. However, I really do think that we need to go to where the people are. Jesus went to the woman in Samaria at the well. He didn't wait for her to come to Him. He didn't decorate his home, and prepare a big meal, and invite the woman in, crossing his fingers that she would come. Jesus went to her. He met her where she was comfortable. He laid aside what the culture (both religious and social of that day) considered appropriate, and He went.

And I am called to mimic Jesus - yes, to mimic what He did with the woman at the well.

Go and preach the gospel. A simple command given to every person who claims the name of Jesus, but what exactly does it look like?

(source)

 I would love to have you join the conversation.

.I'm Scared.

I have been putting off writing this post. I think I was hoping that the feelings would fade or change, but they haven't. I leave for Ethiopia in three weeks, for my first ever third world country mission trip, and I'm scared. It's kind of funny, I have been to Ethiopia twice, and I fell in love with the country, the culture, and even more - the people. I truly love Ethiopia, and I am beyond excited to go back to a place that feels oddly very much like home.

But mingled in with that excitement is very real, very big, ugly fear.

I have never hidden the fact here that I am a big, fat, fraidy cat. I have mentioned it over and over. Fear is one of the biggest sin issues in my life. It crippled my walk with Jesus Christ for most of my life. I battle it daily. There are a lot of reasons why I could be scared to go on a mission trip. I am leaving my three children behind (one of whom has severe special needs and has only ever been left over night once since bringing him into our care), I am flying across the ocean, I am going to be exposed to parasites and diseases and filth, my comfort level will be shattered, I will see things that will haunt me for the rest of my life, my level of comfort in my American Christianity will again, no-doubt, be questioned, I will be sleep-deprived and emotional, etc. etc. But, oddly enough, none of that is what has my heart pounding in fear. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that missions and spreading the gospel is God's will for every single disciple of Jesus. I know that He is asking me to love Him more than my children, and get on that plane, and go to Ethiopia. I know that this stay-at-home-mama needs her routine shaken up a bit in order to be used to advance the kingdom. I am at peace with all of that.

I have been praying over this trip. I have prayed for God to change me, to mold me more into His image, to allow me to be used for His kingdom, and I have even been praying those words that I so earnestly prayed last year before going to Ethiopia the first time. It was easier praying that prayer last year, before I understood the depth of the pain and hurt that comes with God answering that prayer.

God, break my heart for the things that break yours.

But even as I pray those words and prepare my heart, I have been holding onto a little corner of my heart - trying to hide it and keep it safe.

Because I am scared that it may really happen. I am scared that God is going to break my heart all over again. Just when things are settling into a more comfortable rhythm with our family, just when Habi is on the verge of possibly joining our family, could I really go through any of this again? I am scared that God may have another "Jamesy" or "Habtamu" in mind for me on this trip. And as much as I love those two boys with every inch of my heart and would never trade a second of knowing, loving, and fighting for them, I'm not ready to have my heart broken for another person. How can I possibly shed another tear for another fatherless child? I am afraid that my heart cannot take it again. I am not sure if I even want my heart messed up again. I am so sensitive and tenderhearted. I still have nightmares from what I witnessed a year and a half ago on my first trip to Ethiopia. I was not cut out for this kind of stuff. God gave me the gift of empathy, but that gift has morphed into something out of my control these past three years. I am not certain that I want to make myself look like more of a weirdo, or lose friendships over my intensity, empathy, and passion. I'm kind of ready to just fit in again, but I guess even going on this mission trip as a mommy of three littles takes me out of the running of fitting in. That's just not something most responsible mommies in my kind of church do. Teenagers, sure, but mommies?? Somewhere along the way I have turned into someone very abnormal. I am not sure how that happened to this perfectly contented to be, once upon a time, wallflower.

Even as I write this, I am getting more clarity, as I finally put these rambling thoughts into words and they flow from my fingers, I realize that this whole fear thing is wrapped tightly up in self. This has nothing to do with me. My response has been all wrong. What if God had decided that He did not want to "mess up" His own heart? What would my life look like if God had not loved me when I was so unlovable? What if He had said, Enough, I cannot take it anymore. It's too heart breaking, too messy, to love one more person.

I am not a hero. I am not a rescuer. I don't have a "white man burden" or savior complex.  I can never save the world or even just all of the fatherless children. I know that, and it's not my job. I am not even a good Christian or so spiritually mature.

I am just a shy, fearful, cautious, homebody, stay-at-home-mommy, who was shown the deep, deep love of Jesus. And that love is moving my feet - clumsily at times.

And even if it breaks my heart all over again - it's not about me. I don't want to miss out on what really matters in this life. I don't want to miss out on God's best for me in exchange for something really good. Even if I am made an outcast in the mommy circles. Even if it hurts, and is hard, and costs me and changes me in ways that are uncomfortable, and yes, even if God has in mind for me another "Jamesy" or another "Habi", it is the right thing to do. It is right to make my heart vulnerable to whatever and whomever it is that God has me going on this trip to Ethiopia for. Because this is not about me. This is about advancing God's kingdom and bringing glory to God!

So, I am doing it. For now, I am doing it scared.

But I'm doing it.

.Day 13 of 7.

It was such a beautiful weekend. 7 was just not in the forefront of my mind - regardless if that is a good or bad thing. We did eat the chicken bbq today. Just the chicken. No sides. It was good. It was nice to have some flavor and seasonings, but honestly it was still chicken. I don't feel guilty, but I am glad that we did not splurge on anything else besides seasoning.

Every single day I think of Jamesy's first mommy, but I am finding that Mother's Day brings the emotions of the truth that another Mommy loved my baby, right into a hot, thick lump in my throat. I tried to experience the day to it's fullest - for her and I. I pray we have eternity together for me to be able share all of these special moments that she missed.

But for now, I soak them up for the two of us and bury them in my heart.

There is nothing like being a mommy. Oh, Jesus, draw these hearts to Yours. May these children grow to be the greatest advancers of Your kingdom in their genereation. May the gospel be spread to the end of the earth, by the beautiful feet of these three.

The sun was bright in her eyes. My precious girl who daily points me to her Daddy in Heaven. My children keep me humbled at His feet.

This photo is precious to me. This is my grandma whom we have been praying for all winter. She was so close to going home to meet Jesus, but He was not finished with her life here. She is home, and she is doing well!

 

To the One who has, for now, blessed me with these - thank you.

.Day 12 of 7.

It was a beautiful, warm day. I barely even thought about my 7 food choices. I just enjoyed the day, my family, and let the food take a backseat and just be fuel.

I also forgot that I was a sensible mom of three for a few moments and rode on the back of a motorcycle this afternoon. It was the first time in fifteen years.

And it was fun.

.My Two Cents.

Maybe it is time to seek out

wisdom

discernment

direction from the Holy Spirit

godly counsel

prayer

and God's Holy, infallible Word - the Bible

instead of letting our super-saturated American culture dictate

how we raise our families

what food we eat

what car we drive

what clothes we wear

how we view the gospel

how our families should look

what church to attend

what it means to be poor

what it means to be rich

how to study the Bible

what kind of home to buy

how we spread the gospel

how to worship

what jobs to seek

what the Christian life should look like

how to discipline our children

who matters and who doesn't

what education should look like

what fellowship is

what things we need.

Maybe it is time to stop letting our culture tell us how to live.

All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right. 2 Timothy 3:16

But that's just my two cents. What are yours?


Subscribe in a reader

.Summer Luvin'.

I love summer for a myriad of reasons. One being the big pile of books that I read through each summer. The pile is always different, but the love for books remains the same. In the summer I am intentional about reading a lot of books. I have quite a stack this summer, and am continually being stretched by what I read. Some of the books are familar dog-eared ones, and some are new to me. I think even the books that I am reading are being orchestrated by God. He is preparing my heart for something. I can feel it.

One can tell a lot about a person by what books are currently on the night stand.

I think this stack tells quite a bit about me and where I am in my life journey, and where I am striving to be.

What is on your night stand? I may have room to pile on a few more good books.




PS I did not publish a Wedded Wednesday yesterday, as I do not have a new topic. If you have an idea for one email me at amomentcherished(at)gmail(dot)com. Our summer is becoming busy, so I will wait for a topic request before publishing a new W.W.

.When it takes a Rocking Chair to Die to Self.

Five weeks equals countless hours in the rocker.



Heart against heart beating as we rock. Memorizing dark curls, chocolate skin, eyelashes - thick and lush, pink perfect lips. Remembering how long I had waited for these moments and how I had wondered when and if they would ever come. And now that they are here I am finding that I must fight for them and fight off

impatience

selfishness

hurriedness

exhaustion.

Because the truth is that while I rock the world does not stop. There is always something else that I need to do, I want to do, or I feel like I should be doing. It only takes a moment for the selfishness to creep in.

It is then that I have to breathe in slowly the grace of the moment given, and remember that this is what I dreamed of, prayed for, and begged of God. And remember the mommies that would give their very breath to have the moment I am wishing to hurry. I remember the orphans and their empty, wounded eyes that begged for a mommy to rock them to sleep.

And with every rock back and forth, back and forth with his body curled into mine I must die to self again - rock, again - rock, again.

And to die in those moments is to truly live and to see the truth once more - this life is just a vapor - and for the moment there is nothing more important than rocking my baby who waited fifteen months for this very thing I can give him - my arms, my time, my love.

And honestly there is nowhere else I'd rather be.