Manna For Moms

Devotions for Moms Like You!

Megan Breedlove

The Arcade

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Once, my (then) three children and I spent the night in Houston with a friend of mine. She has a three-bedroom house, so that night, we made arrangements for her to sleep in her own room, her two girls to double up in one room, and me and my children to sleep in the third bedroom. She would have offered me more space—the living room couch, the futon in the family room—but I knew that my kids wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in wide-open areas without me right there. Plus, my then-two-and-a-half-year-old son would be able to get up and run rampant during the night. So, Amy and I dragged the futon mattress into the bedroom and set up the pack-n-play. I put my younger daughter, who had just turned one, in the pack-n-play, and my four-year-old daughter and my son shared the king-sized futon mattress on the floor. I slept in the twin bed.

Okay, maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. I did lie down and prepare to sleep—or at least, that’s what I hoped would happen. But the minute I lay down, Lindsey (the one-year-old) and Kenny began some sort of game that was halfway in between acting like Weebles and imitating Whack-a-Mole.

You remember Weebles, as in, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down”? You could push the Weeble over on its side, and the minute you let go, it would pop back up. And remember Whack-a-Mole, that arcade game where one mole pops up and you try to whack it back down with a hammer before the next one pops up? Well, I lay down to sleep, and Lindsey popped up in the pack-n-play, laughing. “Lie down, Lindsey,” I said. She would lie down, but the minute she did, Kenny would get up. “Lie down, Kenny,” I would say. He would lie down, and guess who would pop back up? (Thus, the combination of Weebles and Whack-a-Mole.)

This went on for about half an hour. By this time, I was considering all kinds of options I wouldn’t have considered just thirty minutes before. Benadryl? Didn’t bring any. Duct tape? Didn’t know if Amy had any. I finally decided just to wait them out. Eventually, they settled down, and I fell asleep. For a few minutes, at least.

I don’t know how long it was before I heard Kenny fussing. I could tell it was the kind of fussing he does when he is feeling anxious. “Kenny, lie down and go to sleep,” I said gently. Then, the next time, “Kenny, I’m right here. Shh.” Then the next time…well, I don’t remember all the things I said, because I must have reassured him, either verbally or by reaching down to touch him, at least three hundred forty-two times. Okay, maybe not that many, but surely at least twenty. Every time I spoke softly to him or touched him, he would calm down right away, and he’d be fine until the next time he woke up in a strange place and didn’t know where I was.

Has that ever happened to you in your spiritual life? Have you ever woken up in a strange place and wondered where God was? Or have you ever woken up just needing a little reassurance that He was still there—that He hadn’t abandoned you?

I have. And I bet you have, too.

We all need reassurance at times. Just like Kenny, feeling upset when he was out of his comfort zone, we get upset when we’re out of our comfort zones, too. What do we need during those times? The same thing Kenny needed. He didn’t need a lecture from me on why he shouldn’t be upset. He didn’t need harsh words from me, commanding him to deal with his feelings in a way he wasn’t capable of doing. He certainly didn’t need me to ignore his need. What he did need was my presence. He needed to hear me and to feel me, to know I was there with him. Only then could he feel secure enough to relax.

Friend, that’s what we need when it’s the middle of the night, spiritually speaking, and we’re upset and in a strange place. We need to call out to God and receive His response—to hear Him and feel Him. He may respond as a voice in our hearts, whispering comfort. He may respond by touch, using the arms of a dear friend to give us a hug. But He will respond. Just like I couldn’t hear Kenny’s need and ignore it, God will never ignore our need. When I heard Kenny fuss, truly upset, my desire was to reach out and minister to him. My heart wanted to help him. And God’s heart wants to help us, too.

But I never could have helped Kenny if I hadn’t known his need. If he had lain there, suffering in silence, I wouldn’t have known he was upset, and I wouldn’t have known to comfort him. Obviously, God knows our needs, whether or not we verbalize them to him. But when we reach out to God, we open our hearts to Him.

So the next time you wake up, and it’s dark, and you’re scared or upset, call out to God. He’s right there, even though you might not be able to see Him. Call out to Him, opening your heart to Him as you express your need. Receive His response to you. And then relax. He’s right there.

Jeremiah 29:12-14—Then you will call upon me, and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord.

My Tummy Hurts

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Sometimes, I think teaching children to pray is easier said than done. As moms who love the Lord, we know that we should teach our children to pray, and we want to. Wanting to is easy.

The “how” of it is what gets difficult.

How do we guide them into a prayer relationship like we have—or like we wish we had? How do we explain why there ought to be more to it than just mumbling “DearGodthankyouforthefoodinJesus’nameweprayAmen”? How do we encourage them to initiate prayer on their own? How do we help them understand the amazing concept that they are actually talking to God?

Fortunately, it’s not all up to us. God’s Holy Spirit can and does work in the hearts and minds of our children just as He does in ours.

Perhaps one of the primary ways He works is to grant children a, well, childlike faith and trust in Him.

The other day, the kids and I were having family devotions (my husband was at work). We were practicing praying for each other. The way I’ve been doing this with them is to ask each child in what way he or she needs for us to pray for him or her. Then, the rest of us take turns praying for that child. Finally, the child prays for him- or herself.

That night, Lindsey, at two-and-a-half, wanted us to pray for her tummy, which she said hurt. Each of us took turns praying. Then, it was Lindsey’s turn.

“Now, you pray and ask God to help your tummy feel better,” I guided her.

Lindsey closed her eyes, bowed her head, and placed her hands in her lap. “My tummy hurts,” she said sincerely. “In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

Lindsey didn’t worry about how she began her prayer, or about whether she followed some acronym, or about how long she spent praying. She didn’t worry about using flowery language or including the “proper” elements. She simply laid out her request before God and trusted Him (to the limits of a two-year-old’s understanding) to take care of it.

Maybe we should do the same.

That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with using an acronym to guide our praying, or about trying to make sure we include all the elements we want to include, such as praise, confession, and thanksgiving.

What is wrong is when we focus more on trying to pray “right” than on God Himself.

God doesn’t demand that we follow a rigid protocol in approaching Him. Certainly, we are to come in the right spirit, but the “right” spirit doesn’t mean that we have to pray in a certain way. It means that we are to come to God with our heart right toward Him.

No instruction I could have given Lindsey would have helped her improve on her prayer. Maybe she would have learned to pray in more complicated language, or to include more elements in her prayer. But nothing could have improved on her simple, childlike trust in approaching God.

Dear friend, do you come to Him the same way Lindsey did? Do you talk to Him about your problems and trust Him to do something about it?

Lindsey didn’t spend the rest of the day wondering if God was really going to do something about her tummy or not. She simply told Him about her problem and then moved on with the rest of her day.

Do we do that? Or do we spend our “wait” time as we wait upon His answer fretting about what His answer will be, or maybe even about whether He will answer at all?

Oh, we have so much to learn from our children.

Simple, childlike faith.

Do you need that kind of faith? Do you need that kind of simple trust?

Ask Him for it. You can count on it that He will begin building it in you, for He has promised that if we ask Him anything according to His will, He hears us.

Then, practice it. The more you get to know God, the more you will know that you can trust Him.

And the next time you are praying with your children, listen to their prayers. Listen, and learn from them.

What might God be saying to you through the prayers of your children?

1 John 5:14—This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.

Mark 10:15—I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will not enter it.

That’s Nice

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Remember how, before kids, showering used to be a private activity? As in, if anybody wanted your attention, they often just waited until you came out?

Not anymore. My kids figure that if they can get the door open (which often happens, because even with the lock on, one door still doesn’t shut properly), it’s as good as a direct invitation to please come in.

One morning, I was standing in the shower, trying to enjoy a little peace and quiet, and hoping the steam would clear up some of my congestion. I had been suffering from significant congestion and allergies for a few days, and since I was pregnant, I couldn’t take any medications that would actually work. So I was hoping that if I breathed the steam, that would help unclog my sinuses. There I was—breathing steam—when I heard running feet, and the door burst open.

“Mommy,” Ellie said breathlessly, “Daddy said I could play games on the back computer!”

“That’s nice,” I said unenthusiastically, meaning both “I’m sick and I don’t really care”, as well as “Why are you telling me this?”

Ellie left, heading for the back computer, which is only a couple yards away from the bathroom. “Daddy,” I heard her say happily, “Mommy said, ‘That’s nice.’”

In her sweet, excited voice, she was putting a positive spin on my comment, as if I had been excited for her and said something encouraging.

I should have, I thought. I could have been excited for her, instead of focusing on myself. Fortunately, however, she didn’t seem to have noticed my negativity.

On the heels of that realization came another, this one in the form of a question: Do I put a positive spin on what others say to me, or do I interpret people’s comments negatively?

In this case, if Ellie had heard negativity in my voice, she would have been right. It was probably only her youth and inexperience that prevented her from hearing what was surely there. I, in my…ahem…slightly older youth, have more experience interpreting people’s words and tones, and hearing the meaning behind them. I probably wouldn’t have missed it, had someone said something similar to me.

But do I tend to assume that my interpretation is correct? I’m not infallible. And if I accept that as true, then I must accept the fact that sometimes, I may be wrong. I may misinterpret what someone has said and put a different spin on it than what he or she intended.

I tend to assume that I have heard and interpreted correctly—that is, that what I thought I heard was actually what was present. I then react. Sometimes, this means that I become offended. Sometimes, I get angry. Sometimes I get disgusted. I’m pretty good at keeping control of my tongue, so I may not say anything, but I think these things. And I set it up in my mind so that the person in question should apologize to me.

All this…and yet I might have been wrong.

Do you know what I mean? Do you ever do this, too?

Here are some ways you can tell: is there a person or people in your life who often tells you that they didn’t mean things the way you took them? When someone tells you they meant something differently, do you believe them? Do you tend to be a black-and-white thinker—a person who sees things as either right or wrong, meaning that someone is always right and someone always wrong?

The answers to these questions will help you evaluate whether or not you tend to hear people positively or negatively. But I suspect that even before you read the questions, you knew the answer. We are usually well aware of whether we tend to quickly judge people’s meaning or to give them the benefit of the doubt. As you read this devotional, you may have heard a still, small Voice whispering, “That’s you.”

I know I heard that Voice.

Maybe we should all be more like Ellie.

I’m not suggesting that we ignore the wisdom we have gained through experience in relating to and interpreting others. I’m just suggesting that we consider putting a positive spin on things. Even if we’re wrong, and the person really did mean something negative, so what? What would it hurt to take the comment at its best possible interpretation instead of the worst, even if the worst is accurate?

Think about it. And as you do, remember that only God sees human hearts and minds accurately 100% of the time. So for one thing, we are not qualified to be perfect judges. For another thing…which brings more peace and joy: looking for the bad in someone’s meaning to make sure we are accurate, or giving them the benefit of the doubt?

1 Peter 4:8—Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Elliephants Never Forget

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This morning, my husband and I were discussing who was going to take my son to his occupational therapy appointment. I offered to do it, depending on whether or not my youngest was needing to nurse at that time. My husband said he didn’t mind taking Kenny. “I told Ellie I’d take her, too, next time I went,” he said, referring to our oldest. “But maybe she’ll forget.”

“Ohhhh, no, she won’t,” I thought to myself. “Ellie won’t forget.”

I didn’t say anything, however, because there was always the chance that she would forget. Like maybe…one chance in a million.

You see, Ellie never forgets anything that affects her. Being told to clean up a mess? Yep, she forgets I ever said that. But being told that she can do something, or go somewhere, or receive something—these things, she never forgets.

Sometimes, she doesn’t remember until after it’s too late, or just after the fact—as in months after the fact. Sometimes, she will bring up something I barely remember because it was so long ago, and I think, where on earth did she dredge that up from?

This time, however, she apparently remembered on time, because my husband came into the room later and said, “Both girls want to go, so I’ll take them, too.”

We should have known she wouldn’t forget.

If Ellie hadn’t said anything to show that she remembered, neither my husband nor I would have mentioned it. My husband would have taken Kenny to therapy by himself, and I would have kept Ellie at home.

There have been other times when I have promised something and then hoped my child forgot my promise. At times, I have remained silent unless the child reminded me of my promise, hoping to get out of having to make good on it. I suspect that you may have done the same thing, too.

Aren’t you glad God doesn’t treat us, and his promises to us, this way? Aren’t you glad he doesn’t make a promise, then hope we forget so he doesn’t have to make good on it?

I think it’s natural for human beings to hope to be released from a promise. Maybe at the time we made the promise, we thought we would easily be able to fulfill it, only to find when it came time to make good that it wasn’t convenient.

Maybe we promised something we never should have promised in the first place.

Maybe we promised something that seemed like a good idea, only to find that our imperfect knowledge and foresight had failed to anticipate changing circumstances.

Aren’t you glad none of these things applies to God?

God never hopes we forget his promises. In fact, he has gone to great lengths to make sure we remember.

I don’t know how many times in the Bible God promises that he will be with us. I do know that it’s a lot.

God wants us to remember his promises and to take him up on them. In fact, he tells us to ask and then watch him pour out blessings upon us. He wants us to count him trustworthy, and to ask him to fulfill his word.

Since God is omniscient, he never makes a promise that seems like a good idea, only to find out later that it wasn’t. Since he is perfect, he never promises something he shouldn’t. Since he is omnipotent, he never promises something that he later finds it inconvenient to fulfill.

Oh, friend, do you realize how precious this is? I know you would agree with me, in your head, that it is exceedingly precious. But do you realize it in your heart? Have you taken God up on his promises? Have you asked him to fulfill his word to you? Have you lived your life in confidence that he will fulfill that which he has spoken, knowing that therefore there is no need to worry?

Friends, let us rejoice that we have such a wonderful, amazing God, who not only makes perfect promises, but who wants us to remember them and ask him for them and delights to fulfill them in our lives.

So the next time you fulfill a promise to your child—or find yourself not wanting to—take time to praise our awesome God for his love and faithfulness, and to thank him for all his promises he has fulfilled in your life.

Numbers 23:19—God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?

Malachi 3:10—“Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.”

That’s My Mommy!

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A couple times a week, the kids and I go to the YMCA. I enjoy working out by playing racquetball or lifting weights, and the kids enjoy the on-site childcare. The childcare takes place in a large room that has all kinds of different toys we don’t have at home, as well as a large-screen TV and a variety of videos. There are usually other children there for my kids to play with, too. Basically, my kids enjoy everything about going to the Y.

When we arrive, I drop the kids off in their room and go to the main building, where the fitness center is. When I’m done, I come back to get them.

And when I do, it’s one of the best moments of my day. Let me tell you why.

At this writing, Lindsey is two-and-a-half. She is completely adorable—cute, funny, quirky, and joyful. She enjoys herself in the play room, but when Mommy returns…well, for her, that’s even better.

When Lindsey sees me coming to pick them up, it’s like it’s Christmas morning for her. She grins and dances up and down, or starts running toward me, laughing with happiness.

But the reason why it’s the best moment of my day is because she’ll say to the childcare workers, as she points to me, “That’s my mommy! That’s MOMMY!”

Oh, she is so excited to see me. She’s so excited she has to tell someone about it—has to make sure someone notices that her mommy is here. Usually, she can barely contain herself long enough to point this out once or twice before she is impelled to run to me, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing with all her little-girl strength.

When she reacts to my presence like this, I can just feel the love for her welling up in my heart. I get excited, too, and I can’t wait to wrap my arms around her. Oh, the incalculable pleasure of having my child delight in my presence!

Dear sisters, do we delight in the presence of our Heavenly Father the same way? Do we bring joy to His heart by the sheer exuberance of our delight in Him?

I suspect that many times, we don’t. I know that I have been guilty of taking God for granted at times. I’ve ignored Him, or forgotten about Him at times.

Maybe you have, too.

Or maybe you have spurned Him at times. Maybe you weren’t interested in hearing from Him. Maybe you didn’t care about His presence.

Oh, friends, that’s a far cry from the joy and delight we were created to feel when our Heavenly Father is near—which is always!

The Westminster Shorter Catechism teaches that the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. Oh, we know we’re supposed to glorify God. But enjoy Him? We don’t think about that.

If we forget that we’re supposed to enjoy God, we develop a relationship with Him marked by long stretches of joyless obedience, punctuated with brief moments of spiritual excitement, the results of retreats, or summer camps, or maybe a particularly moving sermon.

Should we obey God without question? Absolutely. He is Almighty God, and He deserves nothing less than our immediate, unquestioning obedience. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy Him.

God is not only perfectly holy, righteous, and powerful, He is also perfectly loving, compassionate, and beautiful. We can enjoy a God like that. We can, and we must. And we will if we mediate on His attributes, immersing ourselves in contemplation of Him in all of His beauty and goodness.

It’s easy to think that if God would just show up at our homes, as I show up at the Y for Lindsey, of course we would respond in loving worship.

But friends, He already has shown up. We don’t see Him in visible form, but we know that if we have asked Him to save us, and acknowledged Him as our Lord and Savior, He lives in our hearts.

In our hearts.

That means He’s with us constantly. We don’t have to wait for Him to show up to pick us up. He is already with us, every moment of every day of our lives.

Yet instead of letting this motivate our hearts to respond in joyful delight to Him, we let it cause us to take Him for granted.

Yes, He’s here. We know that, and we become so used to that fact that sometimes, it doesn’t mean all that much to us anymore. We acknowledge with our heads that it is important, but it no longer moves our hearts.

There’s something very wrong with that. If the God of the Universe inhabits your heart, and you don’t regularly and consistently delight in His presence, there’s something very wrong with that.

Delighting in God’s presence won’t look the same for all people. If you are a person who tends not to be very emotional, then delighting in God’s presence will probably look different for you than for someone who is a very emotional person. And that’s fine.

What’s not fine is for you to fail to delight in Him.

Do you need to ask God to cause your heart to delight in Him? Before you do that, do you need to ask His forgiveness for taking Him for granted, for failing to appreciate His wondrous nature?

Think about how you feel when your child delights in your presence. Don’t you want to know that you bring the same kind of delight to God’s heart by delighting in Him?

After all, He delights in you.

Psalm 35:9—My soul will rejoice in the LORD.

Zephaniah 3:17—He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.

Derailed

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My son Kenny loves trains.

The real ones that go by on the tracks not far from our house, blowing their horns and towing a hundred cars behind five engines? Loves ’em.

Those Brio-compatible ones that he can string together, build tracks for, and have hours of fun with? Loves them too.

Household objects that aren’t even real trains but can be placed one behind the other and pushed across the table to make pretend ones? Yep; loves ’em.

Kenny also loves to have people “play trains” with him, as he put it when he was three. “Mommy? Play trains with Kenny?” he would invite hopefully, his big brown eyes fastened on me as he awaits my answer.

“I’d love to, Kenny,” I usually said.

“Okay,” he would say delightedly, and sit down on the floor with the trains. Sometimes, he had a track already laid out; sometimes, we built one together.

We were doing just that a few months ago. Kenny had several sections of track laid out and hooked together. He also had about eight engines and train cars strung one behind the other (his attach with magnets), and two houses perched across the train tracks so that the trains could pass through the doors of the houses. We were having a good time moving his trains around the track and making train noises.

Sometimes, the beginning of the train was too far away from me for me to reach conveniently, so I would attempt to push the train from behind. There are grooves in the tracks, so I figured that should work.

Some of you already know what I’m going to say because you’ve had the experience: it didn’t work. While pulling a train works just fine, with all the other cars trailing neatly along behind, pushing a train causes some of the cars in the middle to derail. What you end up with is a car or two at the beginning and end still on the track, with everything in the middle in various stages of derailment.

Wow. What a metaphor for how things work in life, isn’t it?

When you do things the way they’re designed to be done (pulling the train), things work out just fine. When you try to force something to operate in a way it was never meant to work (pushing the train), much of it derails.

We know this. We know that some things in life have to be done a certain way if we want to experience success. So why, knowing this, do we push the train instead of pull it?

Sometimes, it would inconvenience us to do things the necessary way. Just as it would have inconvenienced me to have to reach for the front of the train to pull it, sometimes we will be inconvenienced when trying to do the right thing the right way. So we take a shortcut, hoping it will work and save us the extra effort.

Maybe we’re rebelling against having to do things a certain way. We’ve all been there—trying to do things our own way because we simply don’t want to do them someone else’s (God’s?) way.

There could be a thousand other reasons why we try to do things the easy way, even though we know we probably shouldn’t. Maybe, like me, we do things the wrong way (that day wasn’t the first time I had tried to push the train) because we’re hoping we can make it work out right this time so that we can avoid the consequences we’ve gotten every other time.

Sometimes, it’s not a big deal if we try to take a shortcut and it fails. Often, we can simply try again, the way we should have tried the first time, and things work out right, with no harm done. But let’s think about some times when there is harm done—when it does hurt us to try to take shortcuts.

The first one that comes to mind is in our relationship with God. As Christians, we all want to be close to God—or at least we say we do. Yet we act as if we can accomplish an intimate relationship with him by simply going to church and saying the right things—never mind the fact that we don’t study our own Bibles regularly and don’t pray regularly except maybe at mealtimes.

How about our relationship with our husband? Do we do things the right way, giving 100% effort, hoping to grow our marriage that way? Or do we try to take a shortcut—that is, try to effect change by nagging our spouse (which really isn’t a shortcut, because it doesn’t usually work, anyway)?

What about our relationship with our kids? Do we try to take the shortcut to winning our child’s heart of signing them up for classes they want, buying them what they want at Christmas, and sending the most creative, homemade Valentines with them to school for them to give their friends at the party, and believe that that’s sufficient? Or do we put our life’s effort into knowing them—connecting with their precious little spirits?

You know what? I’m glad God doesn’t take shortcuts. In fact, in order to establish an intimate relationship with us, God took the most “long cut” that there was: he became human and came to earth to live with us, eventually being crucified by us on a cross. He couldn’t have put forth any more effort than he did.

So the least we can do is do the same. In other words, as we go through this life he has given us, the least we can do is put all our effort into doing it “right”. I’m not talking about being a perfectionist or about never making mistakes. I’m talking about living life to the best of our ability—not half-heartedly, but wholeheartedly; not taking the easy way out, but putting forth the effort it takes; not skimping on the only thing that really matters (our relationship with God) in order to pursue temporary things that will fade away.

Is there an area in life where you are “pushing the train”? Do you need to start pulling? Ask God to show you. I guarantee that he will.

Proverbs 13:4—The sluggard craves and gets nothing, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied.

Motive

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My three older kids are all at the age where they can get around pretty easily without help. Ellie, I rarely offer help to, because she rarely needs it. Kenny and Lindsey, though, need help more often—or at least that’s the way it looks to me.

Apparently, I’m sadly mistaken.

Help them down out of the van? No way. They can get down themselves, thank you very much. Offer to help them put on their shoes? What could I have been thinking? Put the toothpaste on the toothbrush myself instead of letting them do it? You should hear the affronted wailing.

Every now and then, however, even they acknowledge that they need help. When they are climbing into or out of the tub, I usually grip their arm firmly to help steady them, because you know how it goes when wet kid steps on wet floor. This kind of touch, they don’t mind.

But the same touch, given for a different reason, causes screaming and crying.

I’m talking about when, for disciplinary purposes, I have to firmly grasp their arm to get their attention, or to lead them away from something—or toward a punishment. In these instances, the minute I grasp their arm, they either tense up and try to twist away, or they start crying with the wails of someone who knows they’ve just lost a battle.

So what’s the difference?

Motive.

Both times, it’s the same touch—a firm grip on their arm. Their reaction to my touch all depends on the motive they think I have.

If they think I am trying to help them, they welcome my touch and not only cooperate with it but rely on it to achieve their goal. If they think I’m doing or about to do something they don’t like, they fight it.

Don’t we do the same thing to God?

If we think he is trying to help us—trying to do something we appreciate—we welcome his involvement in our lives. If we think he is trying to impose consequences or force us to do something we don’t want to do, we fight him.

On the one hand, we perceive his motive as positive toward us—offering us something we appreciate. On the other hand, we perceive his motive as negative—doing something bad to us.

What we need to realize is the same thing my children need to realize: in both cases, the motive is actually the same, and in both cases, it is for our benefit.

What? How can we say that his motive is equally loving toward us when he brings us an unexpected financial windfall and when he brings consequences for our sin?

Here’s how: God always acts in love toward us. Sometimes, he chooses to give us pleasant gifts out of his love for us and for his glory. Sometimes, his love requires him to discipline us in order to help mold us into the likeness of his son, an eminently loving thing to do.

No matter the specifics of how God is involving himself in your life, you can be sure that his motive toward you is love. He doesn’t sometimes grasp your arm to help you and sometimes to capriciously harm you. No, whenever he touches you, it is always with your greatest good and his greatest glory—two sides of the same coin—in mind.

It’s not likely that if Kenny sinned, and I had to grab his arm, Kenny would think, “Mom is only doing this for my good. I won’t cry or scream, because I trust Mom enough to know that even now, her response is going to be in my best interests.”

But dear mommy friend, do you know something? We can respond to God that way. We can choose to trust, knowing in our head and in our heart that God loves us profoundly and acts only out of love.

Always? Yes, always, dear friend. Because God is love. It’s not within his character to ever act in an unloving manner toward those he loves.

So even when you don’t understand what he’s doing…when you don’t know why he’s doing it…when you can’t see past the tears, or when you’re afraid…you can trust his heart toward you.

He loves you.

Always.

Psalm 117:2—For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever.

Creative Disobedience

Megan Breedlove No Comments

My son, Kenny, is very smart. He’s also very creative. Sometimes, these two qualities make for an interesting combination.

When Kenny was three-and-a-half, he had his own opinions about what he did and did not want to do (actually, he still has his own opinions in this area). Unfortunately, sometimes his desires conflicted with the desires his dad and I had for him.

Often, if I told Kenny to do something he didn’t want to do, he would say, “Noooooooo.” Each time, I would say, “Kenny, you’re not allowed to tell Mommy no. You say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

For awhile, we seemed to be making no progress. Kenny would continue to say, “Noooooooo,” and I would repeat “Kenny, you’re not allowed to tell Mommy ‘no.’” (If I had a dollar for every time we went through this routine, I would be writing this from my own personal island in the Bahamas.)

Then, one day…progress! Only…it wasn’t the right kind of progress.

I told Kenny to do something he didn’t want to do, and instead of saying, “Noooooooo,” Kenny said—are you ready for this?—“Mohhhhhhhhh.” That’s right—same inflection, but different beginning consonant. He was obeying the letter of the law but completely missing the spirit.

Kenny’s creativity didn’t stop there. Another of his favorite responses when told to do something was, “Whyyyyyyyy?” I tried to use the same response: “Kenny, you are to say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

But Kenny had learned how to beat the system. It only took a few repetitions of this command before he indeed stopped saying “Whyyyyyyyy?” and began saying, instead, “Whuhhhhhhh?”

Creative disobedience.

Kenny was obeying me in a legalistic sense. He had stopped doing the things I was trying to prohibit him from doing. But the deeper heart issues—the issues of selfishness and rebellion that caused him to disobey me—remained unresolved.

It’s the same way between us and God.

How many times does God give us a clear command in his word, and we try to find every way in the world to obey technically while still getting to do what we want to do?

I know you say to put you first, God, so I’ll attend church every time the doors are open. I’ll even serve on a committee or two. I just don’t have time to spend extra time at home reading my Bible and praying.

Or, I know you say to be kind to others, God, so I’ll donate to the county food pantry. But my kids (or my husband) irritate me so much, God, you can’t really expect me to always be patient with them.

Or even, I know you say to respect my husband, God, so I won’t criticize him in public. I’ll save that for when we’re at home.

You see? We try to find a way to get credit for obeying while still getting what we want.

Our deeper heart issues remain unresolved.

It is this kind of behavior that prompted Jesus to call the Pharisees ‘white-washed tombs’. It is this kind of behavior that causes a watching world to say, “Christians aren’t any different from anybody else.” It is this kind of behavior that drives a wedge between us and God and keeps our hearts far from him, even while on the outside, we’re earning all the stars for our Sunday School chart.

How do you think God feels about this?

He’s grieved.

Friends, God doesn’t want mere obedience. He doesn’t want an outward show. He wants our hearts.

In what areas are you holding back part of your heart from God? In what ways are you trying to maintain an outward semblance of obedience, while inside, you’re going your own way?

Spend some time today laying your heart before God and asking Him to lay it bare. After all, if you needed physical surgery on your heart, you wouldn’t put it off if you valued your physical life. If you truly value your spiritual life, you’ll want to make sure your spiritual heart is healthy, too.

Psalm 51:16-17—You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Psalm 139:23-24—Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

Am I Okay, Mommy?

Megan Breedlove 2 Comments

I didn’t see exactly what happened. I had one of my younger daughter’s diapers in hand, and she and I were heading into my son’s room so I could use his wipes to change her diaper. As I walked toward the door of his room, I heard him fussing, and at the same time, I realized that he was crouched on the floor in a kind of odd position. From the expression on his face, I could tell he wasn’t seriously hurt, but I knew that he had fallen.

“Oh, you bonked,” I said sympathetically. (Around our house, “bonked” is the technical term for “fell down.”)

Kenny looked up at me with his big, liquid brown eyes, the expression on his face halfway between tears and calm, as if ready to go either way at any moment. “Are you okay, Mommy?” he asked pitifully. “Are you okay?”

He meant, of course, “Am I okay?”

“You’re okay, Kenny,” I said comfortingly. “You’re okay.”

Kenny got up then without crying, and went about his business. And as I continued on into his room to change my daughter’s diaper, I realized, oh, the parallels between Kenny’s situation and our situation as children of God.

Something bad had happened to Kenny. It was bad, and it was unexpected. He fell down, and it probably scared him and maybe even hurt him a little. He didn’t know how to react. Was this a bad situation? Was it not so bad? Should he cry? Shouldn’t he? What should he do?

Kenny sought out the best person he knew to help him make sense of the situation—me. “Am I okay, Mommy?” he asked in his own way. “Am I okay?”

I calmly and comfortingly assured him that he was, in fact, okay, and that was all he needed to enable him to move on and put the “bonk” behind him. He didn’t stay there on the floor arguing with me or doubting me; he accepted my assessment of the situation and moved forward in life as if he knew—which he did—that what I had said was completely true.

Do we do the same with God? First, when we encounter the unexpected bonks of life that scare us and maybe even hurt us a little (or a lot), is the first thing we do to seek out God to make sure we are okay? Or do we focus on our pain, physical or emotional, and decide we’re not okay before we even talk to him?

Kenny could have done that. He could have started crying, and he would have been justified. It’s okay to cry and be upset when you’re scared and hurt. I would have comforted him, and eventually, he would have moved on anyway. But the way he chose to respond worked out much better for him.

There are times in life when we are hurt, and there is no possibility of seeing it otherwise. If Kenny had broken his leg when he fell, he would have been undeniably hurt. Likewise, when tragedy strikes us, we are undeniably wounded. Life hurts sometimes. Pain crops up unexpectedly, and it scares us. And like a small child might, we cry.

That’s okay. It’s okay to cry when we’re hurt, and to seek comfort in the Father’s arms. But we have to be careful not to decide we’re seriously injured when really, we aren’t. Sometimes, it’s better to check with the Father for His wisdom on how to react, before we decide we’re seriously wounded.

But during those times when the hurt is unmistakable, when we’ve come crashing down, or our life has come crashing down around us, we cry, and we should do what Kenny would have done, had he been seriously injured—seek out our Father. Maybe we can’t run to him because we’ve been injured so badly, but you know what? He’ll come to us. That is part of the beauty of His love and grace.

Either way—as we check with Him to discover how badly we are injured, or as we cling to Him sobbing—eventually He’ll tell us, “You’re okay. Child, you’re okay.”

God doesn’t minimize our pain. Remember that He lived on earth, too. Scripture tells us that He cried when one of His best friends died. He knows physical pain, and grief. He knows tears. He knows sorrow.

But He also has an eternal perspective. He knows that whatever might happen to us, we are still okay—and not just when our circumstances are pleasant. He knows that we can be okay even in the midst of agonizing pain and tragedy.

How can we be okay when inside, we’re breaking? When our heart is being torn in two, and we feel like we can’t take it? When the blows just won’t stop coming, and we feel like maybe we’ve gone down for the last time?

The answer lies in His loving heart and hands. Because ultimately, what makes us “okay” has nothing to do with our circumstances. Ultimately, we are okay because God loves us and will never leave us. If we equate being “okay” with having pleasant circumstances we feel equipped to handle, then we may spend much of our lives being “not okay”.

Dear friend, where does your security come from? Are you okay today? If not, crawl into the Father’s lap as fast as you can and talk to Him. Hear His loving care for you. If you are okay—is it because your circumstances are pleasant? Or is it because you know in the depths of your soul that no matter what happens, you will be okay because being okay comes from eternal security and not from temporal pleasantness? Oh, friend, if you’re not sure, crawl into His lap and let Him speak to your heart and soul.

You will be okay.

He promises.

Romans 8:38-39—For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Hockey Referee

Megan Breedlove No Comments

For Mother’s Day, I’m thinking of asking for one of those black and white striped shirts like hockey referees wear. I figure that I spend a significant portion of some of my days pursuing the career of referee, so I need a referee shirt. Plus, you don’t see hockey players failing to take the referee seriously. I think it’s because of the shirt. So maybe, if I wore a referee shirt, my kids would take me seriously.

I’d also need a whistle—one of those big ones that with one blast could send birds dropping out of the trees like rocks. I don’t really want to injure any birds, but it sure would be nice if I could blow a whistle and have my kids stop still.

So there you have it—a perfect Mother’s Day gift. A referee shirt and a whistle.

I think these accoutrements would have helped me one particular day that I remember. It was not a good day, in terms of my kids keeping their hands to themselves. My son, who was two-and-a-half, had developed a taste for hitting. He didn’t do it to be mean. He just did it because his sister (either one) was in his way, and he wanted her to move. Or, she had made him mad—which apparently meant he had to hit her in revenge. He also liked pushing. Again, he didn’t do it to be mean. He just wanted to see what would happen if you gave a quickly crawling baby a strong push on the bottom. (Note: she’d fall flat on her face and begin to cry.)

So there was Kenny’s desire to push or hit anyone who was in his way or made him mad, or to do the same any time he wanted to see the effects. And this desire of his kept running smack-dab up against the desire of his older sister for him not to do that. She didn’t like being pushed or hit, and she wouldn’t get out of his way, even when he did it. She would stand there and scream and cry like he was killing her, but she most certainly wouldn’t walk away (because that might mean she wouldn’t get out the door first and therefore wouldn’t get to choose the coveted rear seat in the van).

So if I had the right gear, I could stop all these little brouhahas quick as—well—a whistle. (Remember that if you have the right gear, even hockey players, who are notorious for fighting, have to take you seriously.) I could march right up to them and blow the whistle. They would stop, surprised, and look at me. I could then send the offender to the penalty box. That’s nothing more than a time-out for hockey players. (I wonder if a mother invented that.) After the penalty was over, the offender could come out and play nice, and the offended party could let him (or her) back in the game.

Sometimes, it does indeed work like this. That’s what time-outs are for. But I get really tired, just as you do, of spending my days repeating the same things: don’t hit your sister. Be nice. Say you’re sorry. Stop screaming. Your brother was there first. Give that back. And I get tired of hearing screams and tears of outrage from my barely-wronged daughter who feels she has been grievously wronged and is giving a performance worthy of an Oscar. I’m really tired of this, I sometimes think to myself. Why can’t they just get along?

Do you ever wonder if God thinks the same thing? Not about our children, but about us? Do you ever wonder if he gets tired of refereeing our petty squabbles?

Though it isn’t right, children can reasonably be expected to do a certain amount of fighting and arguing, and maybe even hitting and pushing. They’re children, after all, and they don’t have the emotional maturity to deal with conflict in the way we would like them to. They also may not have the Holy Spirit in their hearts yet, convicting them of sin. But we who are adults and have received the precious gift of the Holy Spirit should know better. Yet we continue to grumble against others; we criticize; we say other things we shouldn’t say; and sometimes, we even push and hit. And we put the Holy Spirit in the middle as referee.

I know when Kenny’s hitting Ellie, and when she’s screaming and crying, they don’t feel much like loving each other. So what do I do as a parent? I try to help them learn to love at all times so that these kinds of situations (where loving gets difficult) never occur in the first place. God has done the same thing. He has given us his Word and his Holy Spirit to help us learn how to love others “in advance”—so that things don’t get to the point of conflict.

So the next time your kids are fighting, put on your referee shirt and go break it up—and then ask God to bring to mind any situations where he’s had to act as referee between you and someone else. And then go and make it right.

Psalm 133:1—How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!

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