One of the things I love most about our church’s recent transition to meeting in homes is the presence of children. There is something so beautiful and natural about having everyone gathered together, from the youngest to the oldest. Worship was beautiful today; it brought tears to my eyes to hear everyone singing together to just the music of a guitar, and to hear the smaller children making noise too, and to hold my youngest son close while I sang. I think there’s so much good to be said for children experiencing worship and hearing adults talk about and praise God. No, children are not always quiet, and as a mom I do feel a little embarrassed when it’s my kid making noise—but at the same time, children are part of life and I love seeing them accepted into the community just as they are. It’s a picture of life, love, family, worship and discipleship. Beautiful.
Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it. –Luke 18:15-17
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Memories
When I was a child, my dad worked third shift in a factory that made brakes. It was hard physical labor, but the money was good and he was able to provide for our family. During the summertime, he often got an extra night off each week, and Thursday nights became ours. I was a night owl just like him, so on Thursday nights after everyone else was settled in for the night, we would go out.
At the time-- I was probably around ten years old-- we had an old Volkswagen Beetle, white with a black convertible top. My dad would start it up (the engine sounded so loud against the silence of the night) and we'd drive. Back then, he considered it nearly a crime to have to pay over a dollar for a gallon of gas, and both the sales tax and the gas prices were cheaper in Georgia. So we'd go to Georgia to fill up the gas tank and bring back a full gas can or two for the other vehicles. Sometimes we'd go to Dalton, and sometimes to Fort Oglethorpe, and while we were there we'd stop at Walmart. We'd look around at stuff we were interested in, taking care to spend extra time in the books and magazines because it was one of our favorite sections, and we always bought a roll of Sweet Tarts as we were leaving the store. They were mostly for me, although I would give him the orange ones because I didn't like them, and sometimes the yellow ones too. They had recently introduced the blue Sweet Tart, and to this day if I taste one I immediately feel like I am back in that Volkswagen with my dad, driving through the night with the wind blowing through my hair.
My dad and I were close throughout my childhood. We had (and still have) similar personalities and senses of humor. Certainly we clashed sometimes; I was always very stubborn and persistent about what I wanted, and often he would say no for one reason or another, so I would do everything in my power to argue, bargain, and convince him to change his mind. (I was rarely successful, although he would smile and say that I'd make a great lawyer one day.) But we had so many good times together and countless wonderful memories. I'm grateful that I had a father who understood the importance of connecting with his children and who set aside time to spend with us one-on-one (and who is now committed to spending time with his grandchildren as well).
Fathers are so important-- yet many, many children are growing up without them. Thankfully, there are people and organizations out there who realize how significant it is for children to have a positive male influence in their lives, and they're doing what they can to be sure that fatherless children have mentors. The Mentoring Project is one such organization; they provide mentors for boys between the ages of seven and fourteen. This weekend, people from our church are coming together to hold a garage sale to raise money for The Mentoring Project. If you are in the area, I hope you'll come check it out. This is for such a good cause.
At the time-- I was probably around ten years old-- we had an old Volkswagen Beetle, white with a black convertible top. My dad would start it up (the engine sounded so loud against the silence of the night) and we'd drive. Back then, he considered it nearly a crime to have to pay over a dollar for a gallon of gas, and both the sales tax and the gas prices were cheaper in Georgia. So we'd go to Georgia to fill up the gas tank and bring back a full gas can or two for the other vehicles. Sometimes we'd go to Dalton, and sometimes to Fort Oglethorpe, and while we were there we'd stop at Walmart. We'd look around at stuff we were interested in, taking care to spend extra time in the books and magazines because it was one of our favorite sections, and we always bought a roll of Sweet Tarts as we were leaving the store. They were mostly for me, although I would give him the orange ones because I didn't like them, and sometimes the yellow ones too. They had recently introduced the blue Sweet Tart, and to this day if I taste one I immediately feel like I am back in that Volkswagen with my dad, driving through the night with the wind blowing through my hair.
My dad and I were close throughout my childhood. We had (and still have) similar personalities and senses of humor. Certainly we clashed sometimes; I was always very stubborn and persistent about what I wanted, and often he would say no for one reason or another, so I would do everything in my power to argue, bargain, and convince him to change his mind. (I was rarely successful, although he would smile and say that I'd make a great lawyer one day.) But we had so many good times together and countless wonderful memories. I'm grateful that I had a father who understood the importance of connecting with his children and who set aside time to spend with us one-on-one (and who is now committed to spending time with his grandchildren as well).
Fathers are so important-- yet many, many children are growing up without them. Thankfully, there are people and organizations out there who realize how significant it is for children to have a positive male influence in their lives, and they're doing what they can to be sure that fatherless children have mentors. The Mentoring Project is one such organization; they provide mentors for boys between the ages of seven and fourteen. This weekend, people from our church are coming together to hold a garage sale to raise money for The Mentoring Project. If you are in the area, I hope you'll come check it out. This is for such a good cause.
Sappy But True
Recently a few friends and I had a conversation about weddings and how something always goes wrong. After giving a couple examples of things that had gone wrong with our wedding, I made the statement that, actually, the only thing that turned out right about my wedding was the husband I ended up with. Of course, such a sappy statement was met with groans-- and I agree, it was sappy, but it was also pretty true.
Our wedding was in turns a comedy of errors and a tragedy. When you're seventeen years old and still in high school, and you're getting married two weeks after you got a positive pregnancy test, the ideas you had about your dream wedding kind of go out the window. I had no engagement ring, and our wedding rings were cheap yellow gold (we replaced them with something more our style a few years later). It was not the beach wedding I had dreamed of; we were at least going to have it outdoors at a local park, but it was moved to my parents' church at the last minute because it was a cold, rainy December day. Despite the fact that this was the church I grew up attending, it was the last place I would've chosen to get married. With very little time to find a dress, I went shopping with my two closest friends and decided on a very pretty dress that I loved and that fit me well-- but it was navy blue, not white. I decided that was fine with me because I was okay with not being "traditional," but looking back, I do wish I'd chosen something that looked more like a wedding dress and less like a dress you'd wear to a high school Christmas dance.
The ceremony itself also included mishaps, some comical and some heartwrenching. Our music, which was on a cassette tape, loudly screeched to a halt when Clark walked out, so my dad and I came up the aisle without music. The tape began working again when we reached the front of the church, and no one knew what to do at that point, so we let it continue to play while we all stood there trying (and failing) to keep straight faces. In the video, you can see me snickering, then becoming serious again, then looking at my best friend and snickering some more. The pastor who did the wedding used the oldest and most traditional vows possible; they included the term, "and thereto I plight thee my troth." (I did request to have that changed at the rehearsal because I had no idea what it meant, and I sure as heck wasn't making a vow I couldn't even comprehend). To wrap it up, our parents had thought it would be nice to surprise us with a special song, so Clark's stepmom got a guy she knew to play his guitar and sing. It was a lovely thought, except for one minor detail-- the song she chose was Creed's "With Arms Wide Open." If you're not familiar with the song, it's about a guy finding out he's about to become a father. We stood at the front of the church awkwardly throughout the entire song, and I cried, trying to pretend it was because I was so happy and not because I was so mortified. (Eventually I did ask her why she chose that song. She'd had no idea what it was about; she just chose it because she knew we liked it. Oops!)
I do have a few good things to say, though. My mom and grandmother worked hard to put the wedding together and decorate the church despite their shock at the situation and the short amount of time we had to plan it. The church was filled with our friends and family members. My best friend was my maid of honor. And our friends put together a lovely reception for us. So no, it really wasn't ALL bad. :-) Still, I'm glad that the wedding was no indication of how our marriage would go. Eight and a half years later, we've worked through some difficult stuff, we've grown in so many ways (individually and as a couple), and I couldn't ask for a better person to spend my life with. The wedding may not have gone the way I would've wanted, but I am so blessed to have my husband.
Our wedding was in turns a comedy of errors and a tragedy. When you're seventeen years old and still in high school, and you're getting married two weeks after you got a positive pregnancy test, the ideas you had about your dream wedding kind of go out the window. I had no engagement ring, and our wedding rings were cheap yellow gold (we replaced them with something more our style a few years later). It was not the beach wedding I had dreamed of; we were at least going to have it outdoors at a local park, but it was moved to my parents' church at the last minute because it was a cold, rainy December day. Despite the fact that this was the church I grew up attending, it was the last place I would've chosen to get married. With very little time to find a dress, I went shopping with my two closest friends and decided on a very pretty dress that I loved and that fit me well-- but it was navy blue, not white. I decided that was fine with me because I was okay with not being "traditional," but looking back, I do wish I'd chosen something that looked more like a wedding dress and less like a dress you'd wear to a high school Christmas dance.
The ceremony itself also included mishaps, some comical and some heartwrenching. Our music, which was on a cassette tape, loudly screeched to a halt when Clark walked out, so my dad and I came up the aisle without music. The tape began working again when we reached the front of the church, and no one knew what to do at that point, so we let it continue to play while we all stood there trying (and failing) to keep straight faces. In the video, you can see me snickering, then becoming serious again, then looking at my best friend and snickering some more. The pastor who did the wedding used the oldest and most traditional vows possible; they included the term, "and thereto I plight thee my troth." (I did request to have that changed at the rehearsal because I had no idea what it meant, and I sure as heck wasn't making a vow I couldn't even comprehend). To wrap it up, our parents had thought it would be nice to surprise us with a special song, so Clark's stepmom got a guy she knew to play his guitar and sing. It was a lovely thought, except for one minor detail-- the song she chose was Creed's "With Arms Wide Open." If you're not familiar with the song, it's about a guy finding out he's about to become a father. We stood at the front of the church awkwardly throughout the entire song, and I cried, trying to pretend it was because I was so happy and not because I was so mortified. (Eventually I did ask her why she chose that song. She'd had no idea what it was about; she just chose it because she knew we liked it. Oops!)
I do have a few good things to say, though. My mom and grandmother worked hard to put the wedding together and decorate the church despite their shock at the situation and the short amount of time we had to plan it. The church was filled with our friends and family members. My best friend was my maid of honor. And our friends put together a lovely reception for us. So no, it really wasn't ALL bad. :-) Still, I'm glad that the wedding was no indication of how our marriage would go. Eight and a half years later, we've worked through some difficult stuff, we've grown in so many ways (individually and as a couple), and I couldn't ask for a better person to spend my life with. The wedding may not have gone the way I would've wanted, but I am so blessed to have my husband.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thoughts on Strollers and Slings
Just so we're on the same page here, I do have and occasionally use a stroller. But I still think this cartoon is funny. Slings are no more complicated than strollers; they're just less common in our culture.
I do like our stroller for certain things-- for example, going for a walk on a hot day. Maybe I'm a big wimp, but when it's 90+ degrees outside with insane humidity, I barely want to walk outdoors even without another human being strapped to my body. ;-) I also use our stroller when I'm shopping for clothes because, for me, that's just easier than moving my child in and out of the sling each time I try on clothes.
But overall, when it comes to convenience, I'll just be honest with you... our ring sling wins. It fits easily in my purse along with my other stuff; the stroller takes up the entire back of the van and leaves no room for anything else unless I lay the back seats down. Obviously, safety is a good thing, but the stroller has all sorts of safety features that significantly increase the complication factor; for example, the only way to get our stroller open is to simultaneously hold down a button, twist a thing on the handle, and pull the stroller open. The strap buckles in three different places. The sling, on the other hand: put it on, put the kid in, and adjust the tightness as needed.
Besides the convenience factor, I'm also just not a big fan of using things like bouncy seats, swings, strollers, cribs, pack & plays, and carseats (out of the car) more often than necessary. Don't misunderstand me; I definitely think those things can have their place and can be useful from time to time (and I have made use of them all at one time or another), but I also think it's really easy to over-rely on them to the point of constantly moving the baby from one baby-holding contraption to the next without spending very much time holding the baby in arms, and this can promote parent-child detachment. Slings keep the baby with the parent, where babies are most content, keep the parents' hands free to do other things they need to do, and promote attachment. Neat!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Children and Sin
Usually I'd back away quickly if a book I was reading started talking about children and sin. Most of the "beat it out of them" parenting methods seem to originate with the idea that children misbehave because they're sinful, and I honestly believe that young children misbehave because of immaturity and where they are developmentally. They still have so much to learn, they're curious, and they have very little impulse control and very short attention spans. Young children need patient guidance and understanding of where they are developmentally, not harsh punishment based on the notion that they are sinful little creatures who need to have the sinful impulses driven out of them.
But tonight, as I was reading Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott, I came across the following sentence in a chapter about her teenage son: "It turns out that all kids have this one tiny inbred glitch: they have their own sin, their own stains, their own will... all of them are wrecked, just like the rest of us." Out of context, or if you aren't familiar with Anne Lamott's writing style, that still may sound a little out there to you. But please bear with me for just a moment, because it got me thinking about something that I think may be really important.
I still think that young children disobey or mess up because of developmental abilities and immaturity. But it's also obvious that sometime between those early years and adulthood, people do develop certain areas where they struggle. I'm not sure when that starts happening, but it does.
Our job as parents is not to try to drive sin out of our children somehow (an impossible task anyway because no matter how old people get, they will never be completely rid of sin), but instead our job is to teach our children what to do when they struggle with it. We can teach them how to recognize areas of weakness in their own lives, and how to make amends when they mess up, and how to look to God for help, and how to do their best and still accept God's grace and forgiveness when they miss the mark. And we can't teach all of this just by telling them; we teach them by living it in front of them daily. They see us struggle with our own sins, and they see us make amends and go to God and accept grace and forgiveness. My oldest child is almost eight, so obviously immaturity is still a factor here, but I do see certain patterns and tendencies in him that I think could be the building blocks of particular struggles he will have in his life. Instead of punishing him for them, I need to help him learn how to deal with those things and also what to do when he does mess up.
I don't know about you, but it makes a huge difference to me to realize that my children are in the same boat as me. They need the same love, grace, and forgiveness along the way that I do. It makes me think of the story in Matthew 18 where a servant owed the king a debt that he could never have repaid, and the king had mercy on him and forgave him the debt-- but then the servant went out and found someone who owed him some money and refused to show him any mercy. The grace and forgiveness and patience that God gives us, we should also give to others, including our children.
I think about all I've gone through, and will go through, in my life-- the habits and temptations and weaknesses and failures, and the lessons I've learned along the way-- and it breaks my heart to realize that my children will have to go through these things too in the context of their own weaknesses and struggles. It's an inevitable part of the human condition; no matter how much I live these things in front of my children, and no matter how much I teach them, I simply cannot spare them from this human journey. They will struggle, they will fail, they will learn about grace and forgiveness in their own relationships with God. I can equip them for their journeys in certain ways, but their unique journeys are theirs to take. I can't do it for them. All I can do is be there to guide them, prepare them, and love them.
But tonight, as I was reading Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott, I came across the following sentence in a chapter about her teenage son: "It turns out that all kids have this one tiny inbred glitch: they have their own sin, their own stains, their own will... all of them are wrecked, just like the rest of us." Out of context, or if you aren't familiar with Anne Lamott's writing style, that still may sound a little out there to you. But please bear with me for just a moment, because it got me thinking about something that I think may be really important.
I still think that young children disobey or mess up because of developmental abilities and immaturity. But it's also obvious that sometime between those early years and adulthood, people do develop certain areas where they struggle. I'm not sure when that starts happening, but it does.
Our job as parents is not to try to drive sin out of our children somehow (an impossible task anyway because no matter how old people get, they will never be completely rid of sin), but instead our job is to teach our children what to do when they struggle with it. We can teach them how to recognize areas of weakness in their own lives, and how to make amends when they mess up, and how to look to God for help, and how to do their best and still accept God's grace and forgiveness when they miss the mark. And we can't teach all of this just by telling them; we teach them by living it in front of them daily. They see us struggle with our own sins, and they see us make amends and go to God and accept grace and forgiveness. My oldest child is almost eight, so obviously immaturity is still a factor here, but I do see certain patterns and tendencies in him that I think could be the building blocks of particular struggles he will have in his life. Instead of punishing him for them, I need to help him learn how to deal with those things and also what to do when he does mess up.
I don't know about you, but it makes a huge difference to me to realize that my children are in the same boat as me. They need the same love, grace, and forgiveness along the way that I do. It makes me think of the story in Matthew 18 where a servant owed the king a debt that he could never have repaid, and the king had mercy on him and forgave him the debt-- but then the servant went out and found someone who owed him some money and refused to show him any mercy. The grace and forgiveness and patience that God gives us, we should also give to others, including our children.
I think about all I've gone through, and will go through, in my life-- the habits and temptations and weaknesses and failures, and the lessons I've learned along the way-- and it breaks my heart to realize that my children will have to go through these things too in the context of their own weaknesses and struggles. It's an inevitable part of the human condition; no matter how much I live these things in front of my children, and no matter how much I teach them, I simply cannot spare them from this human journey. They will struggle, they will fail, they will learn about grace and forgiveness in their own relationships with God. I can equip them for their journeys in certain ways, but their unique journeys are theirs to take. I can't do it for them. All I can do is be there to guide them, prepare them, and love them.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Using God
Sometimes people follow God out of fear. And sometimes, we follow because of what we think we'll get from him.
Believe me, I could write plenty about the idea that God will give us material blessings if we follow him. Suffice it to say that I don't think that's how God works, and regardless, it's not a great reason for following him. What kind of relationship is it if we're doing things just so we'll get a reward?
No, I want to talk about something that seems so much more innocuous on the surface, something I do all the time and have only recently realized it.
Many times I've written that we cannot change our own hearts by simply changing our outward actions; God is the one who changes hearts, and then true heart changes are naturally reflected in outward actions. And this may be true-- but I've realized that a lot of times I've been guilty of viewing my relationship with God as a means of self-improvement. And maybe that doesn't even sound like such a big deal, but when you're more or less addicted to perfectionism and self-improvement, it is a big deal.
I see where I am weak, I see where I fail, I see where I want to improve, and all my efforts and striving make very little difference in my heart. And so I see that I need to turn to God and stop trying so hard to be righteous on my own-- and that's true-- but then I simply substitute God as my means of self-improvement. If I can't do it on my own, maybe God will do it for me if I just follow him properly.
Do you see how this is not a great thing? On the outside, it looks perfectly reasonable and it sounds spiritual enough, so what could the problem be? But underneath the surface, it's still the wrong motivation for following God.
I'm not saying that God won't change our hearts; I think he does. I'm saying that this should not be our primary focus in pursuing a relationship with him. Suppose God never changes me in the ways I think he should or the ways I wish he would-- would I still follow him? The truth is, even when God does change our hearts, and even when those changes are reflected in our actions, we still are not going to be perfect in this life, because it isn't possible.
So instead of following God in pursuit of that thing we want to get from the relationship or out of fear of punishment, we are free to follow him out of love. It's that simple and that complicated-- simple because it is just that, no strings attached, and complicated because our humanness is constantly telling us there must be more to it and so we are continually tempted to focus on the wrong things.
Believe me, I could write plenty about the idea that God will give us material blessings if we follow him. Suffice it to say that I don't think that's how God works, and regardless, it's not a great reason for following him. What kind of relationship is it if we're doing things just so we'll get a reward?
No, I want to talk about something that seems so much more innocuous on the surface, something I do all the time and have only recently realized it.
Many times I've written that we cannot change our own hearts by simply changing our outward actions; God is the one who changes hearts, and then true heart changes are naturally reflected in outward actions. And this may be true-- but I've realized that a lot of times I've been guilty of viewing my relationship with God as a means of self-improvement. And maybe that doesn't even sound like such a big deal, but when you're more or less addicted to perfectionism and self-improvement, it is a big deal.
I see where I am weak, I see where I fail, I see where I want to improve, and all my efforts and striving make very little difference in my heart. And so I see that I need to turn to God and stop trying so hard to be righteous on my own-- and that's true-- but then I simply substitute God as my means of self-improvement. If I can't do it on my own, maybe God will do it for me if I just follow him properly.
Do you see how this is not a great thing? On the outside, it looks perfectly reasonable and it sounds spiritual enough, so what could the problem be? But underneath the surface, it's still the wrong motivation for following God.
I'm not saying that God won't change our hearts; I think he does. I'm saying that this should not be our primary focus in pursuing a relationship with him. Suppose God never changes me in the ways I think he should or the ways I wish he would-- would I still follow him? The truth is, even when God does change our hearts, and even when those changes are reflected in our actions, we still are not going to be perfect in this life, because it isn't possible.
So instead of following God in pursuit of that thing we want to get from the relationship or out of fear of punishment, we are free to follow him out of love. It's that simple and that complicated-- simple because it is just that, no strings attached, and complicated because our humanness is constantly telling us there must be more to it and so we are continually tempted to focus on the wrong things.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My Experiences With Fear
The question about different motivations for following God is a personal one for me. I have spent about ten years moving away from a fear-based motivation for following God, and sometimes I'm still not completely rid of it.
As far as I can tell, my religious upbringing was not too uncommon for my particular area. I remember sitting in church as a young child and hearing our pastor recount time and time again the detailed stories of vivid nightmares he had about hell when he was a teenager. There was the constant reminder that if you died without knowing Jesus, you would "spend eternity in a devil's hell." I can still hear that phrase in my head if I think about it hard enough. At the age of eight, I felt anxious and sick to my stomach about leaving church. I was scared because I'd heard the pastor talk about people who knew they should believe but never took that step, and how they would go to hell if they died. So I thought that because I hadn't said THE prayer yet, but I knew I should, that made me one of those people. What if we got in a car accident when we left church and I died and went to hell? (Another common example used in the sermons I'd heard.) The next Sunday I went to the front of the church to pray.
It's not that I didn't believe in Jesus; I did. And it's not that the people at our church had negative intentions; actually, I believe they had the very best of intentions and were passionately preaching what they believed. But, either way, I ended up following God out of fear of what would happen to me if I didn't.
Starting my relationship with God based on fear had other effects. For years I struggled with feeling like God would punish me or reject me if I wasn't good enough. If I messed up too many times or didn't improve quickly enough, I feared he would punish me somehow. To this day, I still struggle with the deeply rooted fear that if I am not grateful enough or if I don't do things right, God will take away the people or things I love the most. I can't tell you how many times I've had a frustrating day with one of my children, only to lie in bed at night and cry because I'm so scared that God will take them away from me for not appreciating them enough. I know it's not true-- that this isn't how God works-- but that fear is still there in the back of my mind, haunting me at my weakest moments.
Most teens who have grown up with their parents' faith reach a point where they begin to question it all for themselves. This is an important step toward making their beliefs their own rather than simply regurgitating what they've heard all their lives. When I reached that point, though, I was so frustrated with all I had seen and heard that I more or less started over from scratch. Throughout my late teens and early 20s, I reexamined and reassembled my faith, and this time it was truly my own. And one thing I had to work through was whether I should be following God out of fear. As I learned more about God's love and grace, I felt this gentle nudge in my soul that this was it-- this was the point, this was what I hadn't understood before. I mean, I "knew;" I could have talked to you about love and grace, but I didn't really know. In my heart, I didn't get it.
This post has been long enough, so tomorrow I'll talk about the other half of it: following God in hopes of getting certain rewards.
As far as I can tell, my religious upbringing was not too uncommon for my particular area. I remember sitting in church as a young child and hearing our pastor recount time and time again the detailed stories of vivid nightmares he had about hell when he was a teenager. There was the constant reminder that if you died without knowing Jesus, you would "spend eternity in a devil's hell." I can still hear that phrase in my head if I think about it hard enough. At the age of eight, I felt anxious and sick to my stomach about leaving church. I was scared because I'd heard the pastor talk about people who knew they should believe but never took that step, and how they would go to hell if they died. So I thought that because I hadn't said THE prayer yet, but I knew I should, that made me one of those people. What if we got in a car accident when we left church and I died and went to hell? (Another common example used in the sermons I'd heard.) The next Sunday I went to the front of the church to pray.
It's not that I didn't believe in Jesus; I did. And it's not that the people at our church had negative intentions; actually, I believe they had the very best of intentions and were passionately preaching what they believed. But, either way, I ended up following God out of fear of what would happen to me if I didn't.
Starting my relationship with God based on fear had other effects. For years I struggled with feeling like God would punish me or reject me if I wasn't good enough. If I messed up too many times or didn't improve quickly enough, I feared he would punish me somehow. To this day, I still struggle with the deeply rooted fear that if I am not grateful enough or if I don't do things right, God will take away the people or things I love the most. I can't tell you how many times I've had a frustrating day with one of my children, only to lie in bed at night and cry because I'm so scared that God will take them away from me for not appreciating them enough. I know it's not true-- that this isn't how God works-- but that fear is still there in the back of my mind, haunting me at my weakest moments.
Most teens who have grown up with their parents' faith reach a point where they begin to question it all for themselves. This is an important step toward making their beliefs their own rather than simply regurgitating what they've heard all their lives. When I reached that point, though, I was so frustrated with all I had seen and heard that I more or less started over from scratch. Throughout my late teens and early 20s, I reexamined and reassembled my faith, and this time it was truly my own. And one thing I had to work through was whether I should be following God out of fear. As I learned more about God's love and grace, I felt this gentle nudge in my soul that this was it-- this was the point, this was what I hadn't understood before. I mean, I "knew;" I could have talked to you about love and grace, but I didn't really know. In my heart, I didn't get it.
This post has been long enough, so tomorrow I'll talk about the other half of it: following God in hopes of getting certain rewards.
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