(And All My) Work Be Praise

Have you seen the Christmas ornaments "celebrating" 2020? Toilet paper rolls, face masks, quarantine, social distancing, distance learning . . . all of the bizarre things of this year "commemorated" to be chuckled (or cried, depending on your year) over for Christmases to come. I cannot count how many times I have uttered (or heard uttered) the phrase, "what a weird season." And a long one, too -- a season we're not out of yet, though I join with those who are optimistic for an upswing by the end of January or so. This morning we sang Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing  at church, and ever since my praise team rehearsed it on Thursday, I can't stop thinking about the second verse: "Here I raise my Ebenezer; hither by Thy help I'm come." The story of the Ebenezer stone from 1 Samuel 7 is one I've carried with me since my divorce in my mid-20s, when a friend gifted me a small stone with reference to Samuel. "Thus far the Lord ha...

At our church in Cincinnati, a high priority was placed on teaching children the basics -- and more! -- of our faith. (This is not at all to say that there is not such a high priority at our current church; the ways and means simply differ.) There was great emphasis on memorization of both Scripture and catechism, and an accountability/reward system in place to help parents stay on track. ( This is a good article on why to catechize our children, along with other arguments for regular family worship.) For several years, the whole church used the Fighter Verse program  for Scripture memorization, children beginning with a shorter set called Foundation Verses . It varied from family to family, but most were able to start working on Scripture memorization with their children as early as two years old. Levi completed the 75 Foundation verses before we moved, and last month we started from the beginning again as part of our morning table time. (More on that later.) 4-1/2-year-old ...

Around the beginning of August, I realized I'd fallen into my usual summer Bible reading slump -- as in, I wasn't doing any at all, outside of Sunday morning sermons. Bible Study Fellowship keeps me accountable during the academic year, and I always have great intentions for summer self-study, but, well, you know, all the usual excuses. Anyway, as I was saying, around the beginning of August, I decided to read through all of the Psalms before the baby arrives. It's an ambiguous goal, obviously, since the end date is unknown, but I found an approximately-two-month-long plan and set in. (When Levi asked to read through the whole Bible, I downloaded an easy "Reading Plan" app that has dozens of plan options.) I'm already two weeks behind but determined to keep going. I read from the ESV app on my phone, which has really easy-to-use features for highlighting and note-taking, plus I can grab it off the nightstand and read in the dark as soon as I wake up. I try ...

This year in Bible Study Fellowship we're studying the Life of Moses: Exodus through Deuteronomy. For the past two months or so, we've been learning about setting up the tabernacle and the sacrifices that took place within. Every week, it seems, there is some sort of question about how we prepare our own hearts for worship today, about being intentional and serious about coming into the Lord's presence. And every week, it seems, I suffer a bit of frantic despair over the thought. There is no way  I can adequately prepare for worship. Not even if all the clothes are laid out the night before (which they are). Not even if we get there early to drop the kids off at Sunday school (which we do). Not even if I get up early (which, with Toby up for 2-3 hours in the middle of most nights, I just. can. not. do) and spend time in prayer. Not even during the prayer of confession in the service, what with keeping an eye on the big kids' demeanor and training   asking   threateni...

This morning we started a new Sunday school series at church on the prophetic books of the Bible. The teacher (a very intelligent and gifted young man, who also happens to be a dear friend of ours) was comparing the biblical prophets to the pagan prophets of the same time. They (the pagan prophets) were obsessed , he said, with figuring out what the gods wanted and what the future would hold, and used all sorts of bizarre means to gain answers to their questions. You know, fun things like dissecting sheep livers. We all nodded along, yes, they were crazy, who would do a thing like that. And then he asked a question that stalled most of the nodding (or, at least, it did for me): " how often do I obsess over some question I have instead of just asking God for the answer? " I'm not typically prone to worry about the future, so I often gloss over questions like that. But I started thinking about how much time I've spent wondering about certain things. (Always at the...

We sing O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing quite frequently at my church. It's one of those in which the words fly by so quickly that I don't often stop to consider them, but over the past several months I've been struck repeatedly by this verse: He breaks the power of canceled sin He sets the prisoner free His blood can make the foulest clean His blood availed for me ~Charles Wesley It's funny (or not, really) how having small children can turn the most patient person into screaming madwoman. (Not that I was ever the most patient person, and I'd like to think I haven't quite reached "screaming madwoman.") Confession over losing my temper (largely to one of my children in particular) has become a near-daily occurrence around here, but even with repeated repentance, I'm still struggling. So I try, in what little brain I have left for meditating on higher things, to let those words sink in: I am not a prisoner to my temper, or to my impatienc...

After a rather discouraging weekend, in which I yelled at my kids and snapped at my husband and let myself believe the lie that my immediate circumstances will never change (my house will never be clean, my children will never obey, I will never sleep again, etc. etc.), this Getty hymn was everything I needed to hear this morning: Holy spirit, living breath of God Breathe new life into my willing soul Bring the presence of the risen Lord To renew my heart and make me whole . . .  Give me faith for what I cannot see . . .  May your joy be seen in all I do Love enough to cover every sin In each thought and deed and attitude Kindness to the greatest and the least Gentleness that sows the path of peace Turn my striving into works of grace . . .  Breath of God, show Christ in all I do.

(Yes, okay, it's Monday. I didn't get to this yesterday, but it was still on my mind.) Deep in the trenches of mothering little people, I understand the concept of bending down to help those who cannot help themselves more than I ever could have pre-parenthood. This line, from Keith Getty's Holy Child , struck me in a new way yesterday: Glory kneels to mend all that is torn. Glory. King of kings, Lord of lords, robed in splendor and majesty. Kneeling, like I do every day, every hour, to change diapers and wipe tears and re-attach Duplo pieces and guide little hands full of puzzle pieces. To cleanse our sinfulness. To wipe tears and repair hearts and guide little sheep wandering far. It's quite something.

Twice a year, for Advent and Lent, my church puts together a devotional written by members of the congregation. Today's entry is from my husband, who recounts the sweet -- and powerful -- story of Levi's first experience seeing our church share in Communion. You can read it here . Unfortunately, the calendar links do not work, so you'll have to scroll down to March 3.

Feeling rather worn out these days. This song isn't about motherhood, but for me, this week, it was.  Jesus, draw me ever nearer As I labor through the storm You have called me to this passage And I'll follow, though I'm worn Jesus, guide me through the tempest Keep my spirit staid and sure When the midnight meets the morning Let me love you even more Let the treasures of the trial Form within me as I go And at the end of this long passage Let me leave them at your throne It's a Keith Getty song , but Margaret Becker wrote the lyrics.

My God is reconciled; His pardoning voice I hear; He owns me for His child: I can no longer fear. With confidence I now draw nigh --  With confidence I now draw nigh And "Father, Abba, Father," cry. ~Charles Wesley, Hymns and Sacred Poems , 1742

[God's] wisdom is my perfect peace. ~My Heart Is Filled With Thankfulness Keith Getty / Stuart Townend © 2003 Thankyou Music (Admin. by EMI Christian Music Publishing)