Manna For Moms

Devotions for Moms Like You!

2008

Summer Fun for $1.82

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

One beautiful evening about a month or so ago, I took my kids out to the back yard to play on the swing set. Fortunately, my kids love being outdoors, so I try to take them out as often as weather permits. Two of the neighbor kids joined us—Bubba, who’s sixteen, and his sister Heather, nine. Bubba had a tennis ball with him—I think he had brought it out to play with his dogs.

I don’t remember exactly how the game started. All I remember is that Bubba threw the ball, and my kids went running after it. Kenny was the most loudly enthusiastic, laughing his great cackle as he chased the ball and tried to find it. (It was green, so it blended in with the grass, especially since the grass needed to be mowed). Lindsey was running as fast as her little toddler legs could carry her. She wasn’t fast enough to have much chance of getting to the ball before Kenny, but that didn’t stop her. So there they both went. Kenny picked up the ball and brought it back to Bubba. Bubba threw it again, and they were off.

For about half an hour, Bubba or Heather would throw the ball, and Kenny and Lindsey (and sometimes Ellie) would chase it and bring it back. It was like a game of “fetch”, but with kids instead of dogs. In fact, they enjoyed the game so much, that I decided the next time I was at Wal-Mart, I would buy a canister of tennis balls so we could play ourselves.

So the next time I found myself at Wal-Mart, I made my way to the sporting goods section and found the tennis balls. There it was: a canister of summer fun for $1.82. There were three balls in the canister, and I could only imagine how much fun they would have with three balls at once. Who needs Disney World? We have tennis balls!

I bought the tennis balls and brought them home. Turns out playing “fetch” in the house is almost as much fun as playing outside, especially with three balls. Then a thought occurred to me, and I did the math: $1.82 divided by 3 equals a little more than $.60 per ball. Yep, these tennis balls fitted in with my idea that all the kids’ best toys cost a dollar or less.

Have you noticed that? Have you noticed how kids can enjoy a toy’s packaging more than the toy itself? How they can enjoy playing “fetch” outside as much as playing in a bounce house? Kids can make their own fun out of toys that cost less than a dollar, or that are free. They can have as much fun playing outside for free as they can going to Disney World.

I’m not saying that expensive toys or fancy vacations are bad. In fact, if I could actually ride any of the rides without getting sick, I would consider going to Disney World myself. What I am saying is that we should take a lesson from our kids.

You and I need to be able to have fun without having to spend our life’s savings on it. We should be able to be content with what God gives us without always having to have the biggest, fanciest, or most expensive item. Let’s take this a step further. Do we always have to have a flashy, exciting life, or can we be content with a simple life? Again, owning expensive things or taking nice vacations isn’t necessarily wrong. But if we experience a lack of contentment with what we can afford, or if we fail to enjoy the simple things because we’re always looking for something flashier, better, or more exciting, we have a problem.

When was the last time you stopped to look at a sunset? I don’t just mean for the three seconds it takes to say, “Look, kids, a pretty sunset.” I mean, stood there and really enjoyed it.

When was the last time you took some time to yourself to just do nothing—to be instead of do?

When was the last time that you had a blast with your kids doing something as simple as finger painting, or splashing in the bath, or running around outside?

I’d like to challenge you to do something. Spend some time in prayer today, or at least this week, and ask God if there are areas in which you need to simplify your life. He may direct you in any of a number of ways. Why will He do this? He wants to remove from our lives anything that gets in the way of enjoying Him and hearing His voice. Fancy, expensive, or complicated things are not necessarily bad. But preoccupation with them is. Ask God if there is anything that is stealing your focus from Him and His still, small voice. Then, be willing to release it to Him. You won’t be letting yourself in for a boring, empty life. You’ll be paving the way for life abundant.

1 Timothy 6:8—But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.

Longing

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

I sat in the shallows of the lake, the sun-warmed water ebbing and flowing around me, the gentle sun itself smiling down on me. There weren’t very many people at the lake yet that morning besides my husband, my three children, and me. Ellie, my oldest at four years old, played on a green, ring-shaped float while Daddy supervised. Kenny and Lindsey, two-and-a-half and one, alternately sat in my lap and played in the crystal-clear water, scooping up the small pebbles on the bottom or trying to catch the fish they could easily see.

I had tried to take Lindsey out further into the water, holding her securely in my arms, so that I could enjoy the deeper water myself. She didn’t like it and started fussing. Kenny didn’t want to go deeper, either. So the three of us stayed in the shallows, enjoying the beautiful lake—something there aren’t many of near where we live.

I was content…mostly. As I gazed across the lake to the opposite shore, where the hills rose a hundred feet above the shoreline, I felt at peace. It was quiet. It was peaceful, with few other people around. It was beautiful. I had my dearest loved ones with me, including the baby in my womb. Yet I wished that I could strike out into deeper water on my own. I wanted to float in the water that couldn’t have been a more perfect temperature, maybe swim a little, or just walk a little, feeling the water move past me as I displaced it. I wanted to be out there by myself, no one around me, no demands upon me, and utterly at peace. I was blessedly happy where I was, in those perfect moments that don’t happen every day…yet I longed for something more.

I believe that this is how God wants us to long for heaven. He’s given us a beautiful world to enjoy. He’s given us relationships. He’s given us moments that are so perfect they almost hurt, because we know they’re fleeting, and no matter how hard we try to hold on, they will suddenly slip through our grasp and be gone. He’s given us so many blessings and so many foretastes of perfection and of the divine that we can—and should—be content here. But He knows He has something more in store for us, and He wants us to long for it, knowing that its wonder and beauty will surpass even the most perfect moment on earth.

In heaven, we will worship God face to face. Stop and think about that for a minute. Can you even imagine it? What will it be like to see the face of the One Who made everything that exists, including you? What will it be like to be fully in his presence, undeterred by sin?

In heaven, there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. Wow. How many times today did one of these things intersect your life? How many times did a child cry? How many times was someone sad? How many times was someone hurt, physically or emotionally? Perhaps someone you love even died today. But in heaven, no more. In heaven, none of these things ever takes place.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, that this life is not all there is. Yes, we should enjoy it. Yes, we should be grateful for the gifts God has given us in part to make our time here more bearable. But no matter how wonderful your life is, I guarantee that heaven surpasses it by a wider margin than you can possibly imagine.

We who are Christians have this hope (expectation) of heaven to help us through our time here on earth. When things are difficult here, we can remember that this is not all there is. When we struggle to pray or connect with God, spirit to spirit, we can remember that one day, we will see him face to face and know him fully, even as we are fully known. But in order to enjoy the anticipation of heaven, we must make sure we aren’t too focused on the temporary pleasures of earth.

If you’re like me, it’s easy to get caught up in the myriad details of earth that demand your attention. And it’s true that we have to pay attention to many of these things in order to fulfill the earthly responsibilities God has given us. But it’s vital to make time for spiritual things, too.

I believe that we should make it a point to regularly consider heaven. Wouldn’t it make a difference in the midst of trials if you stopped and remembered that these trials are not all there is and that heaven awaits you? Wouldn’t it give you perspective in life? And most of all, wouldn’t it result in your giving praise and glory to God for His amazing, overflowing generosity in allowing us to join Him in heaven at all and for preparing such a wonderful place for us?

You see, that longing we all have for things to be better—spiritually, physically, emotionally—will be completely fulfilled one day. So the next time you find yourself wishing things were different, remind yourself that one day, they will be—and they’ll be better than you can possibly imagine.

Revelation 21:3-4—God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eye. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

Happy to Be Last

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

Sometimes, it really matters who’s first.

Sure, you say, like in the Olympics, or the Miss America pageant, or maybe, to include the educational realm, at the National Spelling Bee.

But no, none of those is what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about far more important events, like the race across the parking lot to our van as we’re leaving the YMCA.

I have four children, three of whom are old enough to run, at ages five, three-and-a-half, and two. Watching them, I have learned that apparently, it really, really matters who gets to the van first. I’m not sure why; I just know that it does. I know that for some reason, it’s fairly close to the end of the world to be last—unless you’re my two-year-old daughter.

Let me explain.

The other night, after playing a game of racquetball at the Y, I picked up my children from childcare. In one hand, I had the baby carrier. The other three kids were walking—until the race began, which happened almost as soon as we hit the sidewalk outside the building.

My oldest two, Ellie and Kenny, started running toward the van, while Lindsey, the two-year-old, ran along behind in her adorable version of running that’s equal parts bounce, trot, and run. “Don’t run in the parking lot!” I shouted, or some variation of that, not wanting them to get hit by a car.

They didn’t listen, so I tried to hurry, lugging the baby carrier, and staying close enough between Ellie and Kenny in front and Lindsey behind me so that if danger threatened any of them, I could do something about it.

Unsurprisingly, Ellie and Kenny wound up at the van first. I reached them and prepared to deliver my “I-don’t-want-you-to-run-in-the-parking-lot-because-you’ll-get-smooshed-by-a-car” speech for the hundredth time, but Ellie spoke first.

“She’s last,” she said, looking back toward Lindsey.

I looked, too, and saw one of the most precious sights I will ever see—my adorable daughter, loping along, a huge grin on her face, watching her feet as she bounced/ran/trotted through the parking lot so that she wouldn’t trip. The sunlight was shining on her hair, turning it golden. Her grin was melting my heart.

Lindsey had no idea that anyone had reached the van before her because she wasn’t paying attention. Or if she did know, she didn’t care, because her attention was on her own journey.

Maybe that’s a lesson we need to learn.

Dear friend, have you ever felt discouraged because you were last?

Maybe you were the first one eliminated in the spelling bee. Maybe you would never think of entering a pageant. Maybe the closest you will get to the Olympics is watching them on TV.

Maybe these aren’t the kind of arenas in which you compare yourself. Maybe being beautiful or athletic really isn’t that important to you. Maybe your “race” is to be known as the most spiritual, or know your Bible the best, or be the most sought-after person for leading things at church.

Most of these goals aren’t necessarily bad. It’s admirable to want to train for the Olympics and win first place. It’s great to want to know your Bible well. The problem comes when you turn everything in life into a race where who’s first matters, and when you can’t even enjoy the journey unless you’re first.

Out of the three kids who ran to the van, who had the most fun? Lindsey.

She’s last.

Oh, yes, but she had the most fun.

She didn’t feel bad about herself at all.

Friends, how do you think God wants us to look at life? As if it’s a race where being first matters? Does he want us to race so fast that we forget to enjoy the blessings he has given us along the way?

In the race at the Y, Ellie was first, and Kenny came in a close second.

Lindsey was the one who enjoyed the race most. Lindsey was the one who enjoyed God’s blessings along the way—the fun way her body moved, the sun on her head, the freedom to run through a parking lot (under Mom’s watchful eye). She was also the one who enjoyed these things longest, because for her, the race wasn’t about getting to the end, but simply about being in the race at all.

Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not suggesting that you shouldn’t strive for excellence in life. When you’re in a race where the outcome matters, you should run to win the prize. What I am saying is that maybe sometimes, the results aren’t the most important part of the race. Maybe sometimes, you need to turn a race into a simple journey. Definitely, you shouldn’t hinge your feelings about yourself, or about the race, on whether or not you come in first.

Think about it. Are there areas of your life that you can’t enjoy because you’re not first, not perfect, not the best or the most?

Why don’t you try running the race like Lindsey?

Lope through the parking lot grinning and doing the best you can, and be happy with that.

2 Timothy 4:7—I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. (italics mine)

Dirty Apples

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

My daughter Lindsey loves apples. She loves playing with them, eating them, hoarding them, stealing them, making a mess with them…you name it. (Of course, this is pretty much how she treats everything, but that’s another story.) One time, when she was 18 months old, she asked for an apple for a snack. I got out my handy-dandy apple slicer, where you press the thing down on top of the apple and it cores it and chops it into slices, all at the same time, and sliced the apple for her.

She was not content, however, to take one measly slice, or even to wait for me to put the slices into a bowl. Instead, she had to grab all the apple slices and walk away—probably to leave them on the floor somewhere, or maybe to actually eat them.

But fresh-cut apple slices are slippery, and when you’re only 18 months old and you’re trying to hold eight slices in your two little hands, well, it’s tough to do. So as she headed across the kitchen, most of the slices slipped out of her hands and landed on the floor.

I headed toward her to pick up the slices, intending to throw them away and slice her another apple. But Lindsey saw me coming, bent down, scooped up the slices in both hands, and started toddling away as fast as she could go.

I caught up with her, and when she felt my hand touch her, she sat down on the floor and began to cry, clutching those apples in her two little fists like they were the Hope Diamond and I was trying to steal it. “No! No!” she screamed tearfully as I pried them from her grip. Then, when she finally gave in to the realization that she had lost, she stopped saying “No!” and just wailed.

“I’ll get you some more apples,” I had tried to say as I took the apples away from her. “These are dirty. I’ll get you some more.”

But she didn’t want more apples. She wanted the ones she already had. The ones that fell on the floor and were dirty now. The ones fit only for the trash can. Those were her precious apples, and I was taking them from her.

Friends, have you ever tried to hang onto dirty apples?

Oh, I don’t mean actual food that has fallen on the floor. I mean things that God is trying to take away from you, telling you that they’re no good. When he wants to remove something from you, do you let him, or do you scream and cry and clutch your dirty apples with all of your might? When he finally, mercifully, removes them from you by force, do you wail, heartbroken?

I think we have all been there. But oh, dear friends, we don’t have to be there ever again.

Lindsey was too young to understand that I was taking the apples away for her own good, intending to replace them with something far better. Or if she did understand, the pain of losing the apples she already had was too great for her, and she clung to what she already had hold of, even though they were dirty. Even though they were trash.

There is a Rich Mullins song with a line that goes, “I’d rather fight you for something I don’t really want than to take what you give that I need.”

That’s exactly what I’m talking about.

God never asks us to give things up, or removes things from us, just to cause us grief with no other good purpose in mind. We know for certain, because we know his character and because he has revealed this in the Bible, that everything he does to and for us is for our good and his ultimate glory (which are one and the same).

So why, when he asks us to turn loose of something, do we fight him? Maybe it’s because we forget his character. Lindsey thought I was being mean to her. Sometimes, we question God’s goodness. Other times, our emotions are so intensely involved that we simply can’t bear to part with the thing in question, and any attempt to make us part with it sets off such intense grief that we just can’t consider anything else.

There’s another way we could respond when we’re asked or required to give up something we hold dear. It’s easy to say “Okay, God” when we understand and agree with the reason for giving it up. Right now, I’m talking about when we don’t understand, or we understand but don’t agree. During those times, we can make a decision of our will to voluntarily give up to God that which he is requiring of us. This doesn’t mean saying we desire to give it up. Quite the contrary, sometimes. What it does mean is that we can tell God, “God, I know that you wouldn’t ask me to give this up if there weren’t a sufficient reason. Although everything within me wants to fight you on this, I choose to follow not my flesh, not my limited understanding, but that which I know beyond a shadow of a doubt is true—that you are good, all the time, and that if you require something from me, that is good enough reason, even if I don’t understand why. So I choose to give this up to you so that you don’t have to pry it from my hand. I do this even though it grieves me…even though it tears my heart in two…even though if you gave me the choice, I would scream, ‘No! Don’t take it!’”

Hard? Oh, yes. Friend, I’ve been there. I know it can be agonizingly hard. But I also know it’s worth it to surrender willingly.

You see, God will take what he needs to take, whatever our response may be. So will we fight him? Or will we let go?

Will we hold onto the dirty apples? Or will we trade them in for something better, that even if we can’t see and don’t understand right now, we know it’s coming? Because you can be assured that God will bring good out of even the greatest tragedy. That’s the kind of wonderful God we have.

Isaiah 55:9—For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Romans 8:28—And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Desiring Milk

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

I have a precious five-month-old daughter named Jessica. She’s perfect, from the silken top of her little head to the smooth bottoms of her little feet. She has a grin that makes me grin, too, no matter what else is going on in my day. I love to watch her wave her arms and kick her legs when she’s excited, or even when she’s just interested in something. It’s wonderful to cuddle her warm body against my chest and feel her own little chest rising and falling with the soft rhythms of her breathing.

Already, she has learned to smile and laugh. She’s beginning to learn to sit up. She’s working on grasping things and bringing them to her mouth, and she sure knows how to gnaw on my finger once she’s caught it.

There is one thing, however, that she never had to learn because she already knew it, from the moment she was born: what to do when she’s hungry.

When babies begin to be hungry, they start rooting and moving their head around, trying to find a source of nourishment. If they don’t find one soon enough—or if the need, once felt, is too acute—they cry. Sometimes, they scream.

These are not happy little screams of delight that make us smile. These are desperate screams. They are “I’m hungry, and I need food right now!” screams.

When a baby is hungry, everything in her little body cries out for food. The baby is desperate. Young babies don’t understand the concept of “wait”. All they know is that they’re hungry, and they need food right away in order to satisfy the gnawing hunger within.

Friends, are you equally desperate for God’s Word?

The other day, I was feeding my daughter and thinking about how her sole, consuming desire when she’s hungry is for food. Then, I thought about the verse which tells us that we are to desire the milk of God’s Word “as newborn babes”.

I had always understood that verse as meaning that just as newborns need simple milk (or formula), so we need the simple things from God’s word when we are new believers. But that day, I saw the verse in a new light.

It all hinges on the word “as”.

If, in this verse, “as newborn babes” means merely “since you are newborns”, that would indicate that just as human newborns need simple milk, so spiritual newborns need simple truth.

But if “as newborn babes” modifies the word “desire”, it means “in the same way that newborn babies desire their milk”.

Let’s look at how that verse could read. “In the same way that newborn babies desire their milk, you should desire God’s Word so that you can grow.”

So what is the way that newborn babies desire their milk?

Desperately. Immediately. With singular focus.

What would it mean for our spiritual lives if we desired God’s Word desperately, immediately, and with singular focus, just like my daughter desires to be fed when she is hungry?

I confess that I don’t entirely know what this would look like. My desire for the things of God often falls short of where I would like it to be.

I do know this, however: I want to desire God’s Word in that way. I want my soul to hunger for it every bit as much as my daughter’s stomach hungers for milk.

When my daughter’s stomach is full on a regular basis with the right kind of milk, what happens? She grows. When our spirits are full of God’s Word on a regular basis, what happens? We grow, as the rest of the verse says. Could Jessica grow without milk? No.

Can we grow spiritually without God’s Word? No.

What would happen if I neglected to fill my daughter’s stomach? Her physical body would waste away. What happens when we fail to fill our spirits with God’s Word? Our spirits waste away.

We desperately need to make God’s Word a priority in our spiritual lives, for just as the consumption of milk ultimately affects every aspect of a baby’s life, so our ingestion of God’s Word ultimately affects every aspect of our spiritual lives, and many aspects of our earthly lives, too.

What can you or I do if we don’t really desire God’s Word all that much? The place to start is by confessing your lack of desire and asking God to give you a hunger for His Word. Then—and it sounds simple because it is—get into the Word. Start reading. After all, we’re commanded to study God’s Word, and that should be reason enough to do it.

You will find that your desire increases as you do.

1 Peter 2:2—As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby.

Angry Mom

Megan Breedlove 4Comments

I saw Angry Mom the other day in the refrigerated foods section at Wal-Mart.

I was heading for the juice, and she and her two children were already standing there. As she stood there weighing the merits of different brands, her daughter stood near the cart. Her son, about ten years old, rolled around nearby on those roller-sneakers—you know, those tennis shoes that have wheels in the bottom. He wasn’t really getting in anybody’s way or causing a nuisance, until…

“Ouch!” Angry Mom shouted. “Watch out! Those things hurt!”

I don’t remember whether the boy mumbled some sort of apology. I think he did. What I do remember next is how after that, the boy couldn’t do anything right. In the less than sixty seconds that I was standing there choosing two kinds of juice to buy, she snapped at him two or three more times. It looked to me like it wasn’t a matter of him really doing anything wrong, but rather of her still being mad that he ran into her with his sneaker-skates. Now, everything he did made her mad.

The tone of her voice was harsh and disgusted. Demeaning. Standing there staring at the juice, trying to pretend that I wasn’t listening (I couldn’t help but hear her), I cringed inside. I knew her words, her tone, and her attitude that now-nothing-you-do-is-right had to be wounding his spirit. And inside, I cringed for the tender boy that surely still lived inside a ten-year-old body.

Then it hit me, like a punch to my stomach. Her voice was mine. Her child was mine. Her words, tone, and attitude were mine.

You see, I’ve been there.

I’ve been her.

I’ve wounded my child with my responses to childish mistakes or accidents. I’ve indicated with my tone of voice that I was disgusted with my child. I’ve shown by my words that my child had screwed up so badly, nothing they could do would be right for awhile.

I felt sick.

Soon, the mom and her children wheeled their cart away, and I was alone by the juice with my thoughts and my guilt. I realized that for a few moments, I had condemned the mother’s actions (rightly so) without realizing that they were my own.

As I pushed my cart down the side aisle, I encountered the family again. I first noticed them because the mother was raising her voice. “Isabel!”

Isabel was coming in my direction, while the mother and son were further away from me.

“Isabel!”

You know, I thought, I bet she chose the name ‘Isabel’ because she thought it was the most beautiful name she could think of. Yet listen to how she calls it now. “Isabel!” No beauty. She’s shouting that name like it’s an ugly name. Yet once she spoke it because it was beautiful.

Oh, friends, have you been there, too? Not in the side aisle at Wal-Mart, but in the same situation that mother was in, where maybe you were having a bad day anyway, and one of your children pushed one of your buttons, and you snapped? And after that, you couldn’t get yourself back under control? And you heard the ugliness and unfairness in your voice, but it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself?

If you have, take a minute right now and confess your sins to God. Confess the way you’ve treated your children. You may even need to confess the way you’ve judged other mothers for things that you have done yourself.

Ask your children to forgive you, too. Humbly asking forgiveness can go a long way toward healing a child’s wounded spirit.

Then, spend some time meditating on how God treats you. When you run into him with your sneaker-skates, does he yell at you and then pick disgustedly on everything you do? Does he call your name as if it’s devoid of all the beauty he used to think it had?

Of course not. Our God is amazingly, perfectly loving. He loves us even when we’ve messed up. Even when we have done something wrong, he always treats us with love and dignity.

Determine that you will do the same. That you won’t become Angry Mom just because your child has annoyed you. Remember their delicate little spirits. Thank God for his love, and show the same love to your children.

Matthew 7:3-5—Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

1 John 3:1—How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!

The Rescue

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

One Spring day, my husband and I took our three children, then ages 4, 2½, and 1, to an arts festival downtown. It’s a free, annual festival that showcases a wide variety of types of art. Most people probably get to look at some of the art. Phil and I, due to having three such young kids, got to look at the concession stands. In fact, we were herding ourselves, our double stroller, and our four-year-old towards supper when we passed by a sewer drain. You know—one of those places where there’s a big hole under the curb that leads down to who-knows-where, and a slope from the street down towards the nonexistent curb so that rainwater can run off into the sewers. Ellie had been walking near the curb, and as we got close to the drain, I began to get nervous. I could just envision her falling into the drain. “Ellie, be careful,” I said.

She moved a scant few inches away from the drain and closer to me. “Why?” I could hear her asking in my head, because normally, she wants to know the reason for everything, how everything works, what will happen if something else happens, etc. Amazingly enough, she didn’t ask out loud this time, but she continued in my imagination. “Would I fall in?”

“You might,” I would say seriously, the tone of my voice just right so as to warn her to be careful but not to scare her unduly.

“How would I get out?” she would ask.

And I, demonstrating my motherly powers of reassurance, as well as of the ability to rescue her from absolutely anything, would reply, “I’d climb in and get you out.” And I imagined myself unhesitatingly sliding down into the sewer and rescuing my little girl, valiantly putting out of my mind the stench as well as thoughts of all kinds of bacteria, diseases, and who knows what else.

But then, I realized something. What I was proposing to do for my daughter, should she find herself trapped in sewage and darkness, unable to climb out, was just what Jesus did for us when we found ourselves in the same situation.

We were all trapped in the sewage (sin) of this world and of our lives, living in darkness, unable to climb out. So what did a loving father do? He sent His Son to climb down into the sewage with us and rescue us. Just as the stench of sewage would have assaulted my nostrils were I to climb in to rescue Ellie, so the stench of sin must have assaulted the nostrils of God as He came to this earth and began to live among us. But did He hesitate to climb in? No. He was willing to get Himself dirty in order to be able to wrap His arms around us and say, “I love you. And I’m your Way Out.”

Don’t misunderstand me: Jesus never sinned. As the Son of God, He was perfectly righteous and perfectly sinless. But He chose to live surrounded by sin, because He chose to live with sinners. Isn’t that amazing? In fact, what could be more astounding than the fact that God Himself, pure and holy, would climb into the sewer with us to get us out? He could have said, “Sorry. It’s your own fault you’re in there,” and left us to drown in our sin. But He didn’t. Why?

The answer is simple. First, He loved us. If Ellie had been in that sewer, the only way to show her my love that would have mattered to her would have been to jump in there with her and get her out. Nothing less would have convinced her I loved her. But saving her would have left no doubt in her mind for the rest of her life. Second, Jesus desired to bring glory to God. If I had slipped into the sewer to rescue Ellie and emerged with her, I would have been a hero. I probably would have gotten my name, picture, and story in the paper. People would have recognized my mother-love and admired my character. It’s the same with God. By loving and rescuing us who were caught in sewage, God makes Himself known to the world. He can be known as a hero. We now know His love and admire His character.

We’re out of the sewer. Nothing less than this rescue would have convinced us of God’s love. But His saving us should leave no doubt in our minds as to how much He loves us.

Meditate on that today. If you are a Christian, think about what God literally got Himself into so He could rescue you. Realize that you are no longer in the sewer. You are clean and secure in the arms of the One Who loves you most. Bask in that love. If you’re not a Christian—if you don’t know and love Christ—then call out to Him from the sewer. Let Him rescue you and clean you up. Your life will never be the same. And that’s a wonderful thing.

Colossians 1:13—He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

Acceptance

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

My kids love to go to the play area at the local mall. It’s an area on the bottom level in the middle of the mall that has comfortable benches (for the parents) surrounding an area with large, stationary plastic toys for kids to climb on, fall off of, etc. The kids love running around with other kids and having fun. We have this routine where we go to the mall, play on the play area for awhile, then pay too much for cookies as we leave.

A couple years ago, when she was about two and a half, I took Ellie, the oldest, to the play area. Ellie is a very sociable girl, and she loves not only to play, but to play with someone. She would go up to girls that looked about her age and ask them if they wanted to play with her. Often, though, kids around her age didn’t have the language skills she did, and they didn’t know how to respond to her. They would just look at her and say nothing, or they would turn away. Other times, Ellie would ask kids about her height to play with her, but because she is tall, kids her height were often older, and they sometimes didn’t want to play with a younger kid.

Of course, there were plenty of times when Ellie successfully matched herself up with a playmate, but on this particular day, she wasn’t having much luck.

Sitting on the benches along the perimeter of the play area, I watched her approach child after child, sweetly and politely asking them if they wanted to play with her.

That day, no one did.

As I sat there, I found my emotions becoming involved. As Ellie approached a child, I would anxiously await the child’s response to her. When the response was negative (either by saying no, or by saying nothing), I became more anxious for the next child to respond positively. This happened several times in a row, and gradually, I noticed other emotions: desperation, hurt, and anger. “Play with my child!” I wanted to shout. “My sweet, precious girl is asking you to play, and you should be glad to!” I also found myself wanting to beg, “Please be kind to her and play with her. Don’t reject her. Don’t hurt her feelings.”

You know what it feels like to want acceptance for your child. You know what it feels like to send your child out into the big scary world of the play area, or preschool, or a birthday party, and hope with everything in your mother-heart that the other kids love your child even a fraction of as much as you do.

I bet God knows how we feel.

Think about it: God has to send his children (us) out into a world full of other people, where he knows we will sometimes find acceptance, but sometimes get hurt and rejected. As I sat there at the mall, I thought to myself, I wonder if God sometimes wants to say the same things I wanted to say: “Love My child! Accept her! She is special and precious to me, and I want you to see that and treat her that way.”

You know what? I know he does, because that’s exactly what he says to us in the Bible. The Bible clearly teaches that each human being is a marvelous creation of God, made in his image. And how many times does God, especially in the person of his son, Jesus, tell us to love each other?

Why do you think he says that so many times? Why does he place so much emphasis on the way we treat each other?

Because he wants us to be like him in the way we love—fully and completely, without respect for persons or situation.

And because he wants the same acceptance and love for us that we want for our children.

Dear mommy friend, do you love others the same way you want others to love your child? If other kids treated your child the way you treat other people, would that be okay with you? Would that kind of treatment be what you want for your child?

Spend some time thinking about that this week. In your interactions with others, ask yourself if the way you are treating them is the way you would want someone to treat your child.

Do you extend to others’ children the same kind of love and acceptance that you want for your child?

Psalm 139:14—I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Marvelous are your works.

1 John 4:7—Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.

John 13:35—By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

A Mother’s Hand

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

It was a perfect day in the summer of 2007. My husband, my three children, and I were on vacation. That morning, we were at the beach. My kids and I sat in the shallows of the lake, playing, the sun warming our skin and the water swirling around us.

As I looked down through the sparkling, clear water to the rocks at the bottom, I saw a leaf come floating into view on the water’s surface. It was a pretty little leaf, perfectly formed and with interesting colors. I captured it with my hand and closed my fingers over it. “Ellie,” I said to my four-year-old, “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” I said, “but you’ll like it.” I expected her to close her eyes and hold out her hands, so I stretched out my closed hand. The only problem was, she didn’t close her eyes or hold out her hands.

Instead, she reached for my hand. “What is it?” she repeated.

“You’ll like it; I promise,” I said.

Instead of preparing to receive my surprise, she began to pry at my closed fingers.

“I promise,” I said.

My assurances didn’t help. She continued to pry at my fingers, so I gave up and opened my hand.

“It’s a leaf,” she said happily.

Sure enough, she thought it was pretty, and sure enough, she enjoyed her surprise. So why hadn’t she been willing to take my word for it about how much she enjoyed it, and to close her eyes and stretch out her hands?

The answer was that she didn’t trust me. She thought I was joking—that I might be trying to convince her to believe me so that I could have the fun of making her look foolish for having believed me. She wanted to be sure that she really was getting something of value before she committed her emotions to trusting me.

Dear friends, do we respond to God the same way? He has promised in His Word to give us so many good things, to pour out blessings on us in abundance. Do we sometimes doubt His goodness? Do we want to pry open His hand to see what He is giving before we commit our emotions to trusting Him?

It’s true that sometimes I tease Ellie, but I never try to make her look foolish. I would never draw her into believing me, only to deliberately disappoint her and laugh at her innocent trust. And if we, being human, would never do such unkind things to our children, why do we suppose that God, being perfectly loving, would ever do such a thing to us?

Granted, God’s blessings are not always what we want or understand. Sometimes, we can be bitterly disappointed when we fail to receive what we wanted (and maybe even prayed desperately for), or when we do receive what we didn’t want. Does that mean we are justified in our wariness of God and His blessings? Can we legitimately say, “Sometimes God isn’t good or doesn’t do good?”

Let me remind you of something that is clearly taught throughout the Bible, over and over. God is always good. He is never evil. And He never has less than a completely loving thought toward us. Yes, God sometimes fails to give us what we want. Yes, God sometimes gives us what we don’t want. But oh, dear sister, don’t let that make you doubt His goodness. Either God is good all the time—and therefore worthy of our lives and our worship—or He isn’t.

And He is. Oh, He is.

I’ve had many griefs and disappointments in my life. Some of them have been close to crushing, where but for God’s goodness, I would have been destroyed. And yet I testify through faith and through my experience in knowing God that He is always good and always loving.

It’s okay not to like what God does, or fails to do. God understands that. But don’t let your displeasure with His actions make you question His character.

God is good…all the time.

God loves you…all the time.

There is a song that encourages Christians by saying, “When you don’t understand, when you don’t see His plan, when you can’t trace His hand, trust His heart.”

Even now, God is stretching out His hand toward you, offering you the riches of His abundant goodness. Will you trust Him to believe that what He has for you is good, even before you know what it is? Or at least that He will use it to your good, even if it involves tragedy?

Will you trust His heart toward you, even when you don’t know what’s in His hand?

James 1:17—Every good and perfect gift is from above.

John 3:16—For God so loved [you] that he gave his only son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

Batteries Not Included

Megan Breedlove 0Comment

Have you ever stood in the shower, feeling the water beating down on you and listening to a purple caterpillar, lying on its side just outside your shower curtain, bleating the same sad, slowing, and increasingly tuneless few electronic notes over and over?

I have. Not that long ago, in fact.

You see, I am a mother of small children, which means that I don’t get to take showers alone. So there I was, pursuing the ambitious goal of getting clean, when suddenly, the door opened. In came my then three-year-old daughter Ellie, pursuing her goal of being with Mommy anywhere and everywhere. She brought with her her Alphabet Pal, a purple caterpillar with twenty-six legs, one for each letter of the alphabet. This caterpillar is supposed to do various things, depending on which button you push, such as teach phonics or play songs. The only problem was that today, “Ah-Pal” was not successfully doing any of those things.

“Mommy, it’s not working,” Ellie said. To demonstrate, she tried to make it play the song she wanted by pushing one of the buttons. We listened together as the poor caterpillar struggled through its notes, finally ending up several steps below the correct pitch.

“It needs batteries,” I said, “and then it’ll be just fine.”

“Can you get me some batteries?” she asked. (I guess interrupting my shower to get her some batteries seemed like the logical thing for her to ask me to do.)

“Go ask Daddy,” I said.

She dropped the caterpillar on the floor and ran off to go find Daddy, which would have been fine, except that one of the caterpillar’s legs got pressed when it hit the floor, and it stayed that way. Hence, the same repeated, no-longer-musical, “guess-I’ll-have-to-get-out-of-the-shower-after-all-to-turn-it-off” notes.

Fortunately, Ah-Pal had landed close to the tub, and I was able simply to reach an arm out and turn it off. I smiled about the incident, shaking my head and thinking, “Yep, I’m a mother.”

And then, I thought of something else, and suddenly, this was no longer just about caterpillars, batteries, or even a shower.

I imagined Ellie realizing her toy wasn’t working and coming straightaway to find me, believing that I held the knowledge and abilities to make it right. Then, when I told her what needed to be done, she immediately acted upon my proposed solution, trusting that if she did what I said, it would all work out.

Dear Mommy Friend, do we trust God like that? As earthly mothers, we are finite, and our abilities to make things right are limited. But we have an omniscient, omnipotent, and perfectly loving Heavenly Father. When things go wrong, do we approach Him with perfect trust, believing that He will and can help? When He gives us direction, do we then act upon it, knowing that our all-wise, all-powerful God has just given us the key to making everything right?

In this case, everything was made right with batteries and a screwdriver. Sometimes, though, circumstances in life can’t be fixed, and the only way to make things right is not to change what happened, but to cling to God with the strength of a toddler who would rather die than be separated from his mother.

Dear friend, I don’t know what it will take to “fix” the situations in your life–big or small, now or in the future. But I do know that when the batteries are dying and life struggles to produce even a discordant tune, you should run to your Heavenly Father, as fast as you can go. When you get there, tell Him what’s wrong. Then trust Him to know what must be done. If His solution requires action from you, do it. Immediately. And if the solution is nothing more-and nothing less-than clinging to Him, do it. Immediately. He will never let you down.

Proverbs 3:5-6-Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

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