The Road Less Traveled Revisited, A Time to Chart our Course

Through this election, I have thought once again about how important it is to follow hard after God, while possibly leaving the path where all the voices of the world call us. Now, more than ever, is a time to study and cherish the word of God, His ways of wisdom, His admonition for us to live lives holy, set apart for His life to flow through us to the world.

In following his paths in our lives, we have always been called to the road less taken. I hope these words I wrote earlier this year,  will hearten you today.

As I pack to celebrate Sarah's wedding in Oxford, see Joy settled in St. Andrews, Scotland and help Joel pack for Cambridge, I have been reflecting on what brought us to this point of adventure. In many ways, it has become a norm for our family, to work hard, dream of how we will engage our lives in kingdom work and then watch God open doors. Someone said, "Sally, you all always have new adventures. How do you arrange this? 

Recently, at the speaking engagement, another mom,  asked, "How did you face your friends and family who didn't understand your out of the box ideals?"

I thought of this poem and of this post today because, once I gave my life and all of my rights to God, He has led me on paths beyond what I could have asked or thought. 

Taking a risk to do life differently, to pursue ideals, following God's trail by faith, has changed the course of the Clarkson history--but, by taking the road less travelled, we have witnessed the miracles and provision of the hand of God in amazing ways.

This verse by Robert Frost, one of my favorite poems, (and I made all the kids memorize it) reflects the faith, following ideals, road that God led us as a family to follow..

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both, And be one traveler , long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear; But as for that, the passing there had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I marked the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted I would ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two rods diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Since the first year Clay and I were married, we tried each autumn to go drive through the mountains to see the aspen when they changed to the golden and read and bronze. A mother is the god-ordained professor who  opens the soul and mind of her children to the truths reflected in God's creation. God has provided ample evidence of His wisdom, power and beauty in each season.

Last weekend, Clay said that he thought we should take the time to go for one day to the mountains before we left to make time to see the beauty together. Though we were all busy, we are so very thankful for the way it filled our souls to marvel at His handy work and to reflect that each season has its own beauty and evidence of God's intimate involvement.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood." What a beautiful poem this is--and such a rich amount of wisdom to discuss and reflect upon---choices have consequenceswhatever decisions you make will determine much of the rest of your life--it is so important to let God's word and truth direct your priorities and decisions. And it is profoundly important to understand that we will have to give an account to God for the decisions we make. Your decisions as to what paths you will take will certainly determine where you end up. And I love the last line, "And I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Clay and I took the homeschooling road when no one thought we should. We moved our family into ministry situations with us, all over the world when some thought it unwise. We raised support when certain family members thought we shouldn't. We left a good job and security and insurance and went 5 years without a salary to start Whole Heart Ministries when it seemed crazy. We committed ourselves to idealistic discipleship grace-based parenting when others thought we would ruin our children.

Obviously we have not lived a perfect life and have made mistakes along the way. However, we made our decisions by faith, based on convictions we found in scripture, and through prayer, felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to follow. Our desire was to please God, to build foundations that could not be shaken. God has been so faithful to us each step of the way--we took the road less traveled by and that has made all the difference.

Recently, I celebrated the 93rd birthday of my oldest, sister type friend's mom's birthday. We had a chocolate party for her (brownies, cake, cookies, candy bars and mousse--it was her favorites) She has lived through two World Wars, the depression, breast cancer, the deaths of her husband and two of her three children. Yet, she has lived to see God's faithfulness.

Through our own summers, fire devastated and destroyed 500 homes one time and countless others before that. Another summer we lived through a crisis of flood over our whole state. This year, 3 precious ones have committed suicide that are dear to us. Several of my friends have had cancer.  We could all be tempted to panic when life feels so uncertain. Then there are the shootings, Isis, .......

Yet, taking the risky roads less taken has taught me that God is trustworthy. He is in control, He will be faithful to us as we walk roads of faith. It is an important for us to teach our children to have the courage of their convictions to take the road less taken-the road of faith, the road of ideals. Life does not always turn out as we would expect it to, but God is always faithful. We all only have one life to live in which to live by faith in God, to trust in Him and rest in His peace when we are tempted to panic. We are given one life to live for His ideals and for His convictions. Then we will see Him face to face.

Let us be bold before His throne in this challenging time.

Let us be of those who do not shrink back.

Let us be of those whose hearts remain steadfast even in the midst of trials.

God will be faithful to us. We will grow and be stretched and become less selfish and more mature and give our children a better model --if we stay faithful to his call upon our individual lives.

He will call each of us to different ideals, but He will call us to step out in faith, in courage and in ministry. May His goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives and may we resist fear and live by faith until we see Him face to face.

May God give each of you a special gift of His grace and peace in the midst of your trials. May He allow you to reflect on His beauty in creation as an example of His seasons and may each of you have a peaceful heart. Many blessings of His grace.

As Sarah recently wrote, "Hard realities--broken hearted facts are not ignored but faced with grace. This rises up with a lifestyle of hard work and community that, while never denying grief, yet seeks to move through life with a fragile but real hope."

Indeed, God led us to take the road less traveled, and that has indeed made all the difference.

Let us follow, by faith, the roads where HIs Spirit leads us and watch Him faithfully lead us on a life filled with His direction ever and always towards His light.

"The path of the righteous is like the light of dawn which shines brighter and brighter until the full day." Proverbs

Accepting Our Lives As They Are, Today!

Walking in the Vienna Woods one autumn, found me questioning God, wondering if my life would ever amount to anything, and feeling lonely in a country where I could barely speak any words of German coherently. As a young woman, I told God I wanted to be his servant and to be used greatly in this world.

But, as an inexperienced and young Christian, I did not fully understand what that would mean. Now, as a woman in her 60's, I realize that when I made that promise, I was a sort of toddler to God. He accepted my heartfelt commitment and then proceeded to train me in righteousness, giving opportunities to grow in faith, to get rid of selfishness. As a young woman, I did not know I had these holes in my life and could not see the things I was holding on to for security that were keeping me from fully relying on Him.

Yet, it has been in living faithfully through countless tests, as best as I knew how, one day at a time, that God has fit me for ministry. Having struggled through the trials of life has made me much better suited to connect with a broad range of women who also struggle with trials. My heart is more compassionate because I have been humbled and tested through many roles of life—as a single woman, a married woman, a mother, a working woman, a woman tempted to depression, a woman with conflict from family, a woman with health issues and financial stresses. These tests exercised my spiritual muscles and increased my capacity to work. And yes, now I am grateful for all the tests because they brought me ultimate joy and freed me from trying to perform for people.

Of course, we each will face different tests in our lives. When I was younger, my best friend longed to get married, take care of children, and be domestic. It was what she most wanted. Yet she ended up being single and alone for her whole life. But because she responded to God's tests over many years by saying, as Mary did, "May it be done to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38) and sought to live out her life faithfully, just as it was, she became one of the most loving, life-giving, mature people I know. She drank the cup God had given her.

And yet I, who really had never longed to have children, got married and had four. I have probably learned more from the Lord about joy in the midst of trials by being a parent than in any other role. It is what I needed to become the woman he wanted me to be. And it's taken years to get there! God doesn't grow us in character and joy quickly. He has a long-term perspective for me. He sees the training process over a period of years and is always seeking to move me ahead in my character.

Often it seems we would rather have another life—any life—than our own. Somehow we think if we lived a different life, it would be easier for us to grow in faithfulness and spiritual character. Yet, it is in accepting today with all of its issues, in accepting God's will and training grounds, that we learn the secret of joy in his presence. It is in being faithful to our own set of tests that we become mature and fitted for the ministry he has called each of us to accomplish. If we aspire to be a General, so to speak, in God's spiritual army, then we must first pass the training and tests of life as a private! We must become familiar with our enemy's tactics, learn to endure battles, and practice how to serve and lead others. It is a long process of developing our spiritual and character muscles a little at a time.

Other friends have lived through the devastation of divorce, personal rejection, financial losses, illnesses. Whether it is dealing with a prodigal child, an unfaithful spouse, an angry parent, unjust accusations, the loss of a job, or any other kind of trial, we always have a choice to endure with strength or capitulate to the darkness of our souls.

Certainly, most of us would not choose any of the stresses that a fallen world brings our way. But that is exactly why Jesus said, "In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33). He knew that this world, imperfect and in rebellion to God, would be very difficult. Yet He promised to be with us!

When given the surprising, earth-shattering, life-altering news that she was going to bear a Child, the very Son of God, Mary responded this way ...

"May it be done to me according to your word." Luke 1:38

How can you accept the life you have and respond to the stresses, difficulties and beauty of your own life as Mary did--with acceptance and faith---today?

 

Friends need Friends: The Secret to Keeping Biblical Ideals

Friends who hold our ideals give accountability to keep faithful on the pathway to our ideals. But gathering together intentionally takes energy and commitment.

Friends who hold our ideals give accountability to keep faithful on the pathway to our ideals. But gathering together intentionally takes energy and commitment.

Fun Fun Fun! This week, I am back with Kristen. As usual, we talked and giggled and caught up for such a long time and then realized we had better record our podcast before the whole day is gone. I love having her back and I love doing our weekly ministry as friends. So much more fun.

We are made for relationship. God created us to love, communicate, enjoy companionship, to celebrate life in community and to feel that we have a place to belong. Social scientists say that those who have grown up feeling close to their family and having a significant purpose together are much more likely to retain their personal faith in God when they are adults. Love indeed is the bond of unity, the invisible strings that tie hearts together.

Friendship for adults and children alike are a strong anchor to call us to our ideals. When we feel supported and validated, we are less likely to drift or compromise.

I was recently remembering how many times I have felt alone or dry both spiritually and emotionally, but when I entered into the company of several particular friends, I always left feeling stronger, encouraged, with more true thoughts about life and the Lord to feed on. These women have an intentionality about their spiritual lives and so I know when I invest time with them, I will be investing in my own spiritual well-being. God created community to be a regular part of our lives, and yet it doesn't just come about by fate--community in this time of history is always precious and has to be developed by planning and intention.

Last summer, twelve women, bedecked with scarves, sparkling earrings, glossy lips, gathered in the garden gazebo deep in the mountains of Colorado. Polite chattering and soft laughter rang through the cluster of women introducing themselves to one another.

As we moved through a tea buffet, piled high with chocolate strawberries, cream scones, raspberry jam and tiny heart-shaped finger sandwiches, we began to ease into the grace of the morning.

Gathering us on her nearby covered porch, around wicker chairs and patio couches, my friend said, “I have invited all of you here today because you have a story to tell.”

Seems that two of her old high school classmates from 40 years before had stopped in town, and my friend wanted these old friends to hear the testimonies of a number of her godly friends, (us!), who had been invited with a purpose. All of us were women of differing ages, but have been involved in groups or Bible studies or ministries with my friend, and she thought she wanted her friends, who were not believers, to have an opportunity to hear of the love of God in a way that would touch their hearts.

“I want each of you to tell a story from your life of how God has been faithful to you, something that is dear to your heart.”

As we circled around each other, life stories began to spill out. Stories of childhood, during World War 2 from a lovely older woman; illnesses from which women had recovered; money that had been provided in the nick of time for a downpayment on a home; newly-wed stories of love and romance. Two hours of story-telling filled our hearts and made such a sweet memory. We all marveled at the faithfulness of God through real lives of real people.

As I left, I realized that my friend had set the parameters for a tea party, but because of her intentional planning, the Lord had showed up and filled each of our emotional cups as we shared our history together.

Commemorating our time together.

Commemorating our time together.

 

Often, women say to me, “No one ever invites me over or calls me.”

If we wait for others to invite us, we may wait for a very long time. An isolationist culture where we don’t know our neighbors and attend big churches where we do not even know most of the people sitting next to us in the pew, has left many people feeling lonely and empty emotionally.

Having moved 17 times, 6 times internationally, I have learned that friendships really don’t usually just happen. Most of the community I now have, have happened as a result of me calling people, having gatherings in my home, making memories with women who inspire me. It is like planting a garden. When I till the soil and plant the seed of love, encouragement, thoughtfulness and reaching out, the seeds of friendship just naturally grow.

I have looked for women who are above me in age, who are wiser and cultivate in me a desire to love God more. I call them, take them out, invite them over—because I know what I sow in the garden of my soul, I will reap. And so I sow times with these women.

Next, I look for peers, those women who are at my stage of life, who share the same issues and needs. I have two prayer partners in the same stage of life as me. One calls me every day and we just pray for each other and find out how each of us is doing. The other friend comes to my house once a week and we go walking along a beautiful trail near my house, and after we have caught up on life, we pray for one another.

Finally, I love spending time with women who are younger than me. Young women who are cultivating their ideals bring fresh and vibrant beauty to my soul.

All of these wonderful friends started with a plan—to invite them into my life; with a purpose, because I needed accountability and love and with a blessing, because I needed to be loved!

This is the reason we are cultivating mom heart groups. We want women to meet around the Word, cultivate friendship, encourage each other in their ideals and to develop long term strength for themselves within their ideals.  We will continue to have more to help you as we seek to provide books, and material that will provide for drawing women together over Biblical ideals. However, all you have to do is pray for God to show you some people, invite friends and then ask them to tell their stories as you share your walk with God, your family and your wishes and hopes with them.

Death & Glory (with Sarah)

Autumn reminds me of St. Paul and his paradoxical Gospel. Who else describes God's servants as those who are 'sorrowful yet always rejoicing', 'dying', and yet, 'we live', and is there any better picture of that than a fallen autumn leaf? Death and glory in a golden turn, energy and decay, eternal life in crimson, throbbing veins etched as a final word through the brown fabric of death. Ah, autumn. To me it is a yearly, living picture of Christ's life burning in those who love him, an affirmation that even the dying gloom of the broken world can't hide.

And yet, there is that gloom, that brown curl of death around the gold. This year, the death stands out very strongly to me.

I mentioned last week that I find the world to be a little louder in its confusion this year. I think my perception is heightened by both marriage and ministry. This is the world, the 'time', in which my new husband and I step into a vocation of ministry and service, and it's the world into which (I know you're thinking it!) we might bring children. Frankly, I don't see a safe or stable place.

Last night, Thomas and I sat at dinner in a restaurant where a party of several dozen second-year students played a drinking game, each calling out the most shocking (and let me tell ya, it was an education) actions of their classmates over the past year, forcing the person described to stand up and take a drink. My soul felt seared as I listened to these casually stated acts of real degradation, things that will wound and cripple those people for years to come, a recital met with laughter. That followed an afternoon in which I'd read all manner of political opinion, argument, and extremity (I really don't like politics), and wrestled with a theological problem that quickly became personal, and confusing.

Confusion. It is a word that defines the world I see right now. I see a world of competing, radically self-oriented ideas in the secular world. I see a world of relational disintegration, of broken families, of wanton sexuality seeking a true love it will never find in itself, of an increasingly impersonal culture in which we are unknown to our neighbours. I see a world of exhaustion, of distracted activity driven by screens and the chase after everything just beyond our reach. And the more theology I study, the more I am aware of confusion in the church too. There are massive, troubling debates ongoing regarding marriage, gender, love, law, all carried out by sincere, precious people, arguments that have massive consequences for the way we love the people around us and witness to Christ's reality in our time.

Because of this, I see a world marked by fear, a Christian community increasingly driven to a defensiveness that makes legalistic lines, or a lethargy that gives up effort...and hope. What stabs me most these days is the angst I see even in those who love God, the wrestling I find in my own heart. How do we vote? That's the easiest of my questions. Far more, how do we create strong families, centred churches? Do we fight for moral issues or extend grace? How do we strengthen children to remain hopeful and pure? Is innocence possible anymore? And how in the world can we heal a culture that often just seems to defy grace outright? With Eomer, in my old favourite book, The Lord of the Rings, my own mind has been asking 'how is a man to judge what is right to do in such a time?'

This morning, I curled into my coffee-shop corner, watching leaves fall, tasting the strong tang of hard questions, confusion, and self-doubt. I wanted a clear answer to my questions, a plain path to walk. Living in tension is not my thing. I found it difficult to tether my thoughts to prayer, or Scripture. But the words of my tutor here at Wycliffe echoed in my mind from the week before. In talking with her through the theological issue I find distressingly unclear, she told me I'd probably have to sit with uncertainty for awhile.

"But that means you must listen all the more," she said. "In this uncertain season, where your own wisdom fails, listen hard for the Holy Spirit."

Her words reminded me of what I read of Dietrich Bonhoeffer for one of my essays. In a letters on ethics, penned just before his imprisonment in a Nazi jail, he encouraged his followers not to depend on ethical systems and moral tradition, but rather to live by a minute-to-minute following of Christ.

When I first read that, I was indignant. His directive seemed too self-confident, too hard, too radical. Systems help us to follow Christ, I thought. A system is what I think we're all craving, something by which to easily measure our actions and come out right. But I see now that Bonhoeffer's words came from just the same kind of confusion that I feel now. He too, lived in a culture marked clearly by disintegration, where confusion left even the church in a state of paralysis. He realized that moral and ethical action was no longer clear cut. He understood that difficult, nuanced, radical decisions would be required of those who loved Christ.

Because of that, only Christ himself would do. His letter was a call to his friends to be faithful even when their systems failed. He was talking to people like me who craved a have framework to know exactly what to do, how to vote, how to believe. But Bonhoeffer saw clearly that the faithful would be made up of those "whose final standard is not his reason, his principles, his conscience, his freedom, or his virtue" but the person "who is ready to sacrifice all this when he is called to obedient and responsible action in faith and in exclusive allegiance to God – the responsible man, who tries to make his whole life an answer to the question and call of God" (from Ten Years On).

With Bonhoeffer's ringing words in my memory, I managed the "obedient action" of turning to my daily Psalm (31). And there, I found this affirmation: God is my refuge. Thus began a psalm that is a poignant recital of things that should cause despair. 'Lying lips', 'wickedness', 'terror', 'contempt'. David, the psalmist, does not gloss over the darkness in which he finds himself. Rather, he spells it out with distressed eloquence, putting it bluntly before God. In his litany of distress I found my own angst articulated, my own concern clothed in words.

But...God is my refuge. That is how the Psalm begins, and that is the unshakable framework of faith in which David works out his discouragement, his terror at the wickedness around him. The very act of bringing his fear to God becomes David's way of journeying back from the wasteland of despair into the 'secret place of God's presence', the reality of which he has discovered afresh toward the end of the Psalm. There, 'goodness' is 'stored up' for those who take refuge in God. There, God's face shines on him. There, God shows the wonders of his love, even in the very midst of a 'besieged city'.

And David's voice was added to that of Dietrich's and my tutor's as my own angst was answered with the clear invitation, not to lethargy or discouragement, but to a belief in the refuge of God's presence and a daily decision to dwell there in the coming years. I wasn't expecting a 'solution' to my dilemmas, but in that Psalm I found a clear directive. However complicated and subtle the moral dilemmas of this time, however dark the world around me, Christ is in me and God is my refuge. That doesn't mean I know the answers, way, or solutions to the many dilemmas I see, nor am I given a system by which to eke out the right actions. Rather, I am given God's presence.

Nothing but Christ will do. And the radical act required in this complex time is actually very simple; just to abide in Him. I don't find this easy and frankly, I think it will be difficult for all faithful people. Because the easy way is to retreat into legalism or relax into passivity. It's a difficult balance to live in the tension of faithful confusion. To hold back from judging or despair. To act or speak in faith when the risk is loss of approval. To create and build when the future is uncertain. Further, it's difficult to push away distraction, to make time for quiet, to cling to Scripture, to reaffirm truth and choose the hope it offers. I want clearer answers on how to 'fix' the world and which person to choose to do it and I don't want complication in my theology.

But the truth is that my hope doesn't lie in any answer or action I can get my hands on. My hope, and the hope of this whole, dying glory of a world is in Christ. His presence 'with us' is the Light invading the darkness, revealing God's love in the 'besieged city' of a dying world. To live consciously in his sweet, holy company, to lean into it, and allow his voice to gently lead me is the daily work to which I must give my restless heart and mind.

This past July, I helped to run a theological conference in Oxford at which a famed ethicist spoke. In the Q&A following his talk on the difficult ethical dilemmas of the modern age, one attendee asked him point blank (and I paraphrase): 'in a time when the concept of freedom is incredibly individualistic, and we have countless ethical dilemmas and moral choices to make, how do you explain freedom and obedience in a Christian way'?And the good professor, with a calm eye and steady voice answered without halt (again, I paraphrase, I can never capture the perfection of his answer): 'freedom is to walk so closely with the Holy Spirit that, in the moment of choice, you can perceive the perfect action, the 'good work' to which He draws you. Freedom is the choice to step into the place that the Holy Spirit has prepared.'

Oh. May I daily take that step.

I look out my window up an Oxford cobbled street in a swift rain of scattered, golden leaves. The brown arms of the trees show ever barer. But they are not dying. Sap runs quick in their inmost roots and I am reminded of Christ's command to his disciples at his last supper with them: "abide in me". I am the vine, you are the branches. And in him, we will not wither. The leaves of our certain assumptions and expectations, even our comfort and ease and certainty may wither away in the cold winds of the world. But in Christ, we live, and the sap of his love burns golden at our core. In this uncertain season, in this autumn of a broken world with the wind rising and the bright leaves dying, I choose afresh to hold hard to Christ, to root deeply in his presence so my growth, my free step forward becomes his glory burning through the darkness.


Reading: Fidelity by Wendell Berry. I sat down again and read through the whole story of 'A Jonquil for Mary Penn'. The whole collection of short stories is a wonder. Also, George MacDonald's Fairy Tales (The Light Princess with the theological pun on a girl's lost 'gravity' is better every time I read it) and I must admit it, another Brother Cadfael mystery too. So enjoyable. So well written. So fun. 

Listening: The Book of Secrets by Loreena McKennit. It's been my wistful, haunting autumn music for over a decade. 

Let's Inspire Our Children!

During these challenging times, it is so easy to get distracted by what is right in front of us, to focus on the demands of this world. Yet, some day, we will be in heaven, talking about our short time on this earth and how we were able to be a part of bringing HIs love, His light, His beaut and love to our world through our days of worshipping Him.

Little ones have a window of time when they listen with their hearts to everything we teach them, to the ways we live a life focussed on what really matters. How are you taking time to pass on these values that were on the heart of Jesus, to use every one to tell His story to those who long for purpose and love, Let's see what was on the heart of Jesus with His disciples.

Inspiration is such an important piece of a mom's job, isn't it?  I recorded a podcast about this topic which you can find here: The Gift of Inspiration.

The well-traveled road was bathed in late afternoon sunlight at the end of a warm day. There were small groups of merchants returning from Jericho, families nearing the end of their journey back home after a trip to Jerusalem, and market vendors transporting their wares. Small carts packed to bursting with crates of cooing doves, barrels of fragrant olive oil, and caskets of salted fish took up much of the roadway, forcing the huddled groups of pedestrians to move aside to make room.

Jesus had always loved the cool, windblown summit of Olivet, where a cluster of twisted, old olive trees provided an oasis of shade in a comfortable, tangled garden. So many times they had lounged together there, fresh breezes wafting over them as they gazed down on the gleaming white buildings of Jerusalem. The secluded place provided a welcome escape from the bustle that filled almost every moment of Jesus' days, a reprieve from the crowds of people who needed so much of him, and the night sky over Olivet had provided a wide-open canopy of space where he could pray undistracted. The disciples remembered so many days and nights there, so many wonderful, from-the-heart conversations. They had learned so much from Jesus there on the mountain.

To the disciples, each bend of the familiar road seemed crowded with specific memories of time spent with their Lord. Hadn't he gone to the mountain on the morning of the day when the adulterous woman was thrown on the ground and accused before him in the temple? Maybe the Father had spoken to him in advance of what would happen. And this was the very mountain where all the people had spread out garments and leafy branches on this very road and pronounced him as the one who "came in the name of the Lord."

He had been cresting the hill on this road when he caught sight of the city and wept that it had so long rejected the Father. Here he had told them that if they had faith, they could actually move the mountain—now that was an idea! And he had described the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world while they sat together in the protective shade of the trees. And in a garden nearby, six weeks earlier, Judas had betrayed him as he was praying.

As the men and women neared the end of their journey, the conversations quieted, and their heartbeats quickened. What important message might the Master have for them today?

A small group of people had already gathered at the summit, each pair of eyes searching expectantly for one important Person. Suddenly a hush fell upon the crowd. Everyone's face seemed drawn toward the east, where a deep blue sky sparkled between the lacy olive branches. And there, at last, was the shining, laughing, familiar face of the Lord Jesus.

His radiant eyes filled with light and life as he looked out lovingly through the crowd, wel- coming familiar friends and holding up his hands to greet and bless them. His presence was as familiar as that of a friend, yet he had the command and dignity of royalty holding court.

One man yelled out, "Lord, is it at this time you are restoring the kingdom to Israel?" An excited murmur of interest spread among the crowd at this possibility. But Jesus rose to his fullest stature and commanded the attention of all who were present with the resounding voice of authority.

"It is not for you to know times or epochs which the Father has fixed by his own authority."

A buzz of conversation ran through the crowd at this response, and some exchanged doubtful glances as Jesus continued, "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth."

At this the crowd fell silent again. Jesus barely had to raise his voice to be heard as he challenged them to "make disciples of all the nations... teaching them to observe all that I commanded you." And then he concluded with a loving reassurance: "I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

The words seemed to burn in the hearts of his followers as they finally began to understand the significance of their own lives. This is why they were here, what they had been born for! The Master had chosen each of them specially—fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes, children, men and women of no special background—to be the "sent" ones, the Lord's ambassadors to the whole world.

They were still trying to take it all in when a billowing cloud rolled down from the sky. With outstretched arms seeming to simultaneously embrace and bless those present in the crowd, Jesus began to rise upward toward the ethereal cloud.

Jaws dropped. Every eye turned skyward. And then, after an instant of glory, Jesus was gone. The crowd was left staring open-mouthed into the air.

Suddenly two men in white clothing were standing before them. In ,voices strong with the glory of heaven, they cried, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into the sky? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in just the same way as you have watched him go."

How's that for an inspiring moment?!

As mothers and fathers, it is so easy to get distracted by the details of our lives. We have so much to do! We must feed our children well and take care of their health. We must oversee their education and their training to make sure they will be able to take care of themselves and live in a civilized society. We train them in righteousness so they may understand how God wants them to live. We try to relate to them in mature ways and help them learn to have healthy relationships.

Yet often, I think, we get lost in these multitudinous tasks that rule our lives, and we lose sight of the underlying purpose behind all these tasks, which is to prepare our children to go into the world and make disciples for our Lord.

Jesus promised that he would be with us. He also promised that he will come back. It is to him that we will have to give an account of how faithfully we sought to pass on his message and his commission to our children. Giving our children the gift of inspiration—helping them understand their spiritual purpose, which is to glorify God and to make him known—is one of the most crucial tasks of Christian parenting. I believe mamas are hero shapers.

 

What special time with your child might help you to inspire them this week? Let's be intentional at creating moments where we direct their gaze beyond the day to day routine.  Maybe we'll find ourselves inspired, too!

Did you know you can follow me on Facebook?  Click here and like my page for updates and occasional notes! Sally on Facebook

 

 

Look for the Signs + A New Podcast

Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by its name. Because of his great power and incomparable strength, not a single one is missing. Isaiah 40:26

Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by its name. Because of his great power and incomparable strength, not a single one is missing. Isaiah 40:26

Do you ever feel like you get so caught up in the mundane, the daily demands, the things that scream for attention in your life that you forget to notice the beauty among the normal moments of your life, you neglect to see the continuous whispers of his voice that say, "I am with you. I love you. I will help you. I want to show you my kindness today."

Many years ago I had a dream and in it, I was overwhelmed by all the demanding issues of my life and I was distracted by fear of what might happen. In the dream, as I was stewing, fretting and calling out to God in prayer, He beckoned me to come to him and to climb into his hand that was big enough to carry me. I climbed into the palm and he tenderly wrapped his fingers around me. He took me far up into space where I saw the blinking light of starts and galaxies all around me. Finally, after traveling through myriad galaxies of sparkling beauties, in a mere twinkling of an eye, God addressed me.

"Sally, I want you to look down at your home where all the troubles are bubbling around that concerned you. How big does it look from here?"

As I looked down, I could see a speck that I knew was my home with all of us and our worries inside.

"Lord, it is so relatively small compared to this infinite display of the galaxies and planets, that it seems tiny."

"That is how big your problems are in light of my infinite power, my endless mercy and compassion, my desire and power to help you every day. I want you to remember how small it looks from eternity and let me give you peace."

And as quickly as my dream began, it was over. But when I awakened, my heart was at rest.

Recently, this summer, I found myself again, in the circle of swirling issues. A hot summer day melted everything in sight over hours as I sat inside my un-air-conditioned house, sweat sliding down my forehead. I was  drumming away on my book as I pounded my keyboard; cleaning up after the dog; and dancing in and out of the lives of Joel and Joy who were also intent on finishing projects that loomed large with deadlines. One more of thousands of meals to be made filled my mind as a task that needed someone to do. Even that felt like a load on this hot day.

The pressures of life had lain heavy on our hearts with financial issues along our paths, health concerns that seemed overwhelming for a loved one, a former missionary colleague has just died suddenly, the news of a friend who had turned away from the Lord brought sadness, another one whose marriage was in trouble called  and the barrage of CNN announcements of another terrorist attack overseas filtered through our afternoon.

It seemed that life was heavy on our shoulders and some dark fog hovered around our hearts. Unconsciously, we had stuffed our emotions, carried our individual darknesses alone as we tromped through the thousands of mundane details of life that held us captive on this day.

Dinnertime came before we were ready to do anything about it. "Let's go down the street and just sip something cold at the new place that has an outside patio," Joel voiced.

It didn't take long to agree and down the road we went.  After ordering snacks and drinks at the counter, we searched for an outside table where some mountain breezes might blow through our rumpled hearts.

Within minutes after we were seated and sipping, it was as though the Holy Spirit decided to grab our attention by unfolding a light show just in front of our humble picnic table. Our little i-phones attempted to record the splendor but imperfectly, but our souls drank it in. 

While we sipped, ate, breathed out the day and inhaled the beauty, our conversation softened, our friendship merged into the atmosphere and our circle became a place of goodness and restoring as we remembered our sweet blessings of just being able to share a few moments of utter bliss and celebration amidst such a splendid night sky.

I remembered, once again, that every day, he leaves signs for me to remind me that He has my back, that He is in control, that He sees every moment. There are endless ways of His love through the sweet ones He chose to place in my life, the constancy of His Fatherhood in allowing beauty and goodness in every day by the ways He leaves His artwork in my wake, the assurance that I am never alone.

And then I remembered my dream from almost 20 years before. I remembered how small my issues in the hands of an almighty God carrying me every day. All the fears, worries, stresses, problems of life loomed small in the presence of my infinite loving God who holds it all together in His hands. 

What about you? Are you looking for His signs?

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Last week, I took time with the sweet women attending a leadership retreat in my home and asked them to share with you from the inspiration and encouragement of our weekend. We taped the podcast live in my home. Hope you will be encouraged.

Cadence in Confusion with Sarah (Lifegiving Home Series)

I live to the cadence of church bells now. Elizabeth Goudge called Wells the ‘city of bells’ but it could easily describe Oxford; you can hear a chorus of them striking at the oddest times. Sometimes a single, dramatic toll to mark the hour, sometimes great, waterfall crescendos of them ringing through the streets. Now, though, with my front room window facing the golden brick of a church tower and the bells humming out on the quarter hours from 6:45 to 11 at night, the bells are personal to me, deep old voices warbling a call to prayer, singing my every day into a kind of structured music.

In a way, those bells and the cadence in which they frame my hours are part of the larger rhythm I’ve learned during my time in Oxford as I’ve increasingly (if erratically) adopted the practice of morning and evening prayer and the marking of the year by the seasons of earth and church. There is a clear sense in British culture and in my church here of both time and space as things you mark and claim, realities made sacred by the way you see them, the words with which you frame them, the actions with which you fill them.

I encountered evening prayer my first month in Oxford, and as I began to attend regularly, hearing Scripture and prayer at a set time each day, I found the liturgies forming my thought, comforting me in stressed moments, giving me a cadence of worship in which to live the crazy rounds of my days. Then I found the glory of the church year, with its high days centered on the central events of Christ’s life; not just Christmas and Easter, birth and death, but Ascension and Pentecost, feasts that remind me of Christ’s return to the Father to prepare a place for all who love him, and of the Holy Spirit coming among us. What these prayers and feasts, these liturgies offered me was not only a mind formed by reverence, but a deepened sense of identity, a fuller knowledge of who Christ is and the hope and glory to which he is drawing me.

Two years and many church bells later, I’m deeply thankful for this rootedness because I find myself in dire need of anchors in the midst of a very uncertain world. Is it just me or is the world louder in its confusion and grief these days?

I feel that I have watched the clamor of the world roar to a pitch of late that can unsettle even the calmest soul. Whether by political complications, by questions of God’s presence or will, or simply by the sheer fact of the countless who are suffering and dying in war, even those who love God find life right now to be a disorienting thing. Faithfulness requires us to question: Who are we in the midst of this? What does it mean to do rightly? How do we live out the kingdom in such a fallen world?

In the midst of these questions, I’ve reconised afresh the power of tradition – of daily, yearly, regular celebrations -  to root me in truth, refresh my sense of identity, and remind me of what is essential. I think the human psyche craves liturgy – we all crave cadence. We all need to daily wake to remember – who we are, what we hope for, what we can trust. As I’ve pondered this reality, reconising what a gift my church life in the past two years has been, I’ve also come to a freshened thanks for the traditions of home, the liturgies of family devotion and bedtime prayer, the feasts of family celebrations that shaped my identity and rooted me in a sense of love.

Before I ever discovered evening prayer at Oxford, I had learned the rhythm of prayer with my mom at bedtime as she tucked me in tight to bed, her goodnight prayers tucking me securely into a sense of God’s presence as well as that of my quilts. Daily prayers with my Dad at the breakfast table, each day something we gave to God, the words framing in all the coming hours with the consciousness of the God who gave them. Special prayers with my siblings, all of us together, holding hands when our family found times of great need or fear.

Girl's club: our last time of sharing life secrets and friendship together in Oxford before I got married. This is a life-long tradition with us girls. It has held us through many hard times.

Girl's club: our last time of sharing life secrets and friendship together in Oxford before I got married. This is a life-long tradition with us girls. It has held us through many hard times.

Before I came to any church feast, I knew the feasts and special days of my family. Our ‘shepherd’s meal’ every Christmas eve, with all the lights off except the candles, bowls of potato soup and bread before us, the Christmas story read aloud from Luke. ‘Family Day’, every summer, when we gathered for cinnamon rolls and then spent a morning listing out all the ways we’d watched God be faithful to us in the past year. Birthday breakfasts of quiche and cinnamon rolls (we do like cinnamon rolls) where each sibling and parent (however shy) had to say what they valued in the birthday child. Afternoon teatimes, and reading by the evening fire, family walks and devotions, from the time I was tiny I lived in the cadence of our family traditions.

What those formed in me was a sense of myself as a lover of God and beloved member of the little fellowship of family my family, as driven by ideals of courage and virtue as the famous fellowship in Middle Earth. Our traditions became the lens through which I understood life: as a wondrous gift, as a story to be lived well, as my chance to bring God’s kingdom into being. That gift of self-understanding is something that gives me courage and roots me even in the present, something continued by the rhythms of worship I’ve now learned in the larger world of the church.

In a world of profound moral confusion and change, the cadences by which we live, the rhythms we choose, the stories we embody, may be the difference between hope and despair. It’s not that a birthday breakfast or half an hour of prayer at a certain time makes everything right in a broken world, or a candle lit makes a space suddenly sacred. Rather, those acts of order and grace allow us to live in awareness of a reality larger than what we can see. We remind ourselves of Eternity by anchoring a couple of our fleeting hours each day in the prayers that allow us to stand in God’s unchanging presence. We remind ourselves of Christ’s redemptive love by giving a little of it to those around us in concrete, daily, visible ways. We teach ourselves to hope for the new heaven and earth by beginning to make a little of it visible in the beauty bring to home, the hospitality we share, the love we weave into each corner of our lives.

At play here, once again, is the incarnational principle that we make visible, daily, what we believe to be true. We live by ‘faith in what we cannot see’, in life beyond death, in beauty beyond pain, in love beyond hatred. The rhythms of word and action, the cadence of prayer and remembrance, that we institute in our homes will remind us of who we are and what we want to be when we are confused, exhausted, and alone. Our traditions form our stories. And home is where they begin.

Breathe In: Rhythms of Prayer

What words frame your day? What are the rhythms of quiet, reflection, and prayer that anchor your experience of the world? I inherited my parents daily habit of Scripture reading and prayer so that even if I can only manage a Psalm or a couple of Gospel verses, I try to open the day with the Bible. But I have loved adding liturgy to my devotion, joining in morning prayer at church, or simply praying some of the daily prayers of the Church on my own. There is a rich, sustaining grace that comes from praying words that have been said through centuries of human heartbreak and hope, sustaining believers in time of war and hardship as well as in times of plenty.

If you don’t know where to begin, you can always use a Book of Common Prayer. I’ve also used Celtic Daily Prayer by the Northumbria Community (my Mom and Joy love this too). You could also use something like George MacDonald’s Diary of an Old Soul – his collection of devotional poems written to last one a day for a year.

Whether Scripture, liturgy, or poetry, consider what words frame your experience of the day. What do you wake to? What reminds you of who you are? What gives you hope? What words do you want to form your own sense of identity, and that of your children?

Daily tea time, and Sunday high(er) tea are regular celebrations with us.

Daily tea time, and Sunday high(er) tea are regular celebrations with us.

Breath Out: Cadence of Celebration

I think we celebrate what we love, and what we hope. Think about it, Christmas, Easter, birthdays, the 4th of July, all of these holidays (holy days!) are celebrations centered on what we value – the fact that Christ was born, that death will be overcome (something we still hope to see), freedom (and our hope for it to continue). We need to mark these things in order to remember, to reaffirm our hope in all the ‘bad things coming untrue’.

But what about on the level of the ordinary?

What do we mark every day by making it special? One of the greatest gifts I received from my mom was a penchant for marking the beauty of the ordinary. Whether it was a teatime on our favorite china, or a walk in which we marked the changing colors of the season, or lit candles on the dinner table every night (and a well-set table when we could manage), I was taught to encounter the ordinary as a gift, to recognize God’s generosity in the every day. In an impersonal, hurry-up culture of our time, this way of celebration has allowed me to live in what I think is a greater awareness of God’s presence, to remember that He is always ‘at play’ all around us, the beauty of creation constantly speaking hope into our despair.

Girl's club tea times - my sister and mom and I snatched special moments together whenever we could. Sunday afternoon tea with a book read aloud. Saturday morning walks and coffee together. Those small celebrations linked us to the larger ones of the church, marking the epic story of Christ’s redemption, on the level of the cosmos... and our dining room. What small feasts will you throw?

Reading: The Book of Iona: An AnthologyJoy's gift when she came for a visit from Scotland, as well as 'research' for the paper I'll be writing on Celtic monastic life. I really hope I get to visit Iona as part of the research process...!

Listening: Jon Foreman. Another great recommendation of my sister. Limbs and Branches.

Eating: 5-Ingredient Brownies. This is an almost painfully simple recipe, but it was approved by our houseful of teenage boys. (Can you tell I’m baking a lot of desserts at the moment? Or puddings, as they call them here in England. I think it’s the autumn damp that makes me want warm, baked things….)

 

Parenting the Bumpy Teen Years

Several years ago,  Joy and I were laying on her bed, talking. She said, "I am determined not to become a teenager who is controlled by hormones or attitudes! It seems so silly. I don't think I will go through the phases the older kids did!"

Having lived through the ups and downs of her older siblings,  Joy, who is very even-keeled by natural temperament, wanted to try to skip the bumpiness of the teen years. But, try though we or they might, there just is a passage from little child, dependent on Mom and Dad, to the place where our teens begin to own their own convictions, exercise their own authority and will, and grow up--and it comes with bumps!  All teens experience the growth process a little differently, but all must go through the growing pains inherent with moving from dependence to independence. Tension is natural when children pull away from childhood to become strong, mature adults.

Joy  officially entered this phase, as did all of her siblings. and had to go through her own story of ups, downs, and high emotions. I am very blessed because Joy has a great heart and is patient with her not-so-perfect-or-patient mom. All of my children, somewhere in the teen years (and sometimes a little earlier) suddenly, out of nowhere,  started having issues with normal life moments like emptying the dishwasher, or picking up their room.  Suddenly there was fussing and tears over even minor things like who washed the dishes last or who had done more chores.

Little attitudes of anger and frustration began bubbling up out of the blue. I am not talking about immorality or rebellion--those are serious issues that many teens experience, too. But, out of experience, I have learned a lot from my other three after years of not understanding what was going on or how to bear with the ups and downs.  The truth is, hormones are present in boys and girls. And boys can be moody, too!

One of my strongest memories was of a time I asked my easy-going child to empty the dishwasher. All of a sudden, this gentle-spirited young man became a lion--you would have thought I had asked him to give his life as a ransom for the other kids! He went ballistic. "Why does everyone eat so much? They all make messes every day and there is no end to dirty dishes around here--everyone needs to become responsible for their own messes!" 

Of course, I couldn't have agreed with him more--but this was just about a five minute job of emptying one dishwasher!  When a usually gracious child turns into a teen and shows a cranky side even occasionally, it seems even more of a big deal, somehow, than when a child who's always been more outgoing and perhaps noisy does the exact same thing!

But the mood swings and teen issues and choices make for some bumpy roads. Seems to me that this season of life with teens is when parents get weary of their ideals and begin to compromise on issues. Then there are the added pressures of social media issues we're all dealing with, trying to balance Facebook, cell phones, gaming, and media. Most kids this age have a lot of pressure to conform and want so much to have friends and community. Often it seems the potential community of good companions grows smaller than in the elementary years, because it is a time when teens start going off into dangerous areas.

I think it is difficult for moms to remember that their children have good attributes during a hormonal explosion and the wide varieties of volatile emotional discussions we get wrapped up in. Talking things through can take hours and hours.

Relationship, relationship, relationship, and investing time--even when you don't think they want it--is very important.

Though Sarah tells me she is glad that I kept on her about "attitudes" and didn't let her get away with much, she also says it was the times we went walking every morning, the personal times of reading a magazine together, the coffee times that she believes truly helped keep her heart close to mine and to the Lord. For the boys, I focused on taking them to breakfast, loving them, talking, lots of chocolate chip cookies, back scratches, and pursuing them no matter how they behaved.

My favorite verse for the teen years  is, "A gentle answer turns away wrath," followed closely by, "It is the kindness and mercy of the Lord that leads to repentance."  In other words, we are supposed to be the mature, loving constant ones--even though we have given our lifeblood and time for so many years. I am here to say they do come out of it eventually and learn to see Mom as the anchor that held their lives together with the grace of God.

Parenting in the bumpy teen years requires deep breathing. Depending on God's grace again and again, seeking to walk in it constantly. And much courage. It is worth the cost of all the time and emotional investment and prayer. Helping your children find community is important, as is spending time together joyfully! Praying God encourages you today, and especially if you are the mama of a teenager!

Did you know you can find me on Twitter? Follow here: Sally Clarkson