Abba Father

So, lily is really into being a pastor's kid these days.  Like really into it, and honestly, I hope she keeps that level of excitement over her plot in life for a very long time.

She attended a birthday party over the weekend, and when someone recognized her from vacation bible school, Lily went into excitement mode.  Excitement mode involves lily talking very fast, not necessarily with big emotion, just fast with words that all seem to run together.  It's kind of like one long, overstated hashtag.  And her excitement wasn't over the fact that she was recognized (or that she was at a pretty awesome birthday party), but her excitement was over the reality that Bible school was held at her church...where her dad is the pastor.  So, her response went something like this:

#Iamthepastor'sCHILDatthatchurchthepastor'sCHILDandIcanshowyouanythinginthatchurchbecause
Iamthepastor'sCHILDofthatchurchandmydadisthepastorsoI'mthepastor'sCHILD

Yep.  Just about like that. The kid adores being a pastor's CHILD - she loves it, embraces it, and even brags about it.  I asked Lily what is so cool about being a pastor's kid, and here are the top three great things about being a PK according to my seven-year old:

1.  You get hideaways in the pastor's office when you're a pastor's CHILD.

Lily believes that the hideout she has created under her dad's desk is a giant perk.  There may be a time in the near future when Lily discovers that hideouts aren't necessarily unique to pastor's kids, but for now, she chalks up her hideout in the pastor's office as a plus to being a "PK," so....so do we.

If you were to check out lily's hideout, here are a few items you'd encouter:  an extra pair of socks (because, well, lily),  tissues (unused and used), cups for water (in case of an emergency), dolls (duh), stuffed animals, and...from time to time...a Bible.

This hideout is important for several reasons, according to my youngest.  First, she needs a place to go during the time of prayer held in dad's office before the worship service.   "Well, mom, I can't sit with the elders.  And why would I go out to the playground??"  Right....because why would a seven year old go out to the playground?  Come on, mom.

The hideout is also significant for certain church "clubs."  What I've noticed is that once lily befriends someone at church, and feels them out over the course of...a few minutes, she then proceeds to let them in on her secret space.  And once you see the secret space, you're in.  Like literally.  They all gather in the hideout.  In fact, on one particular Sunday during worship we noticed that Lily was missing.

I'm mildly embarrassed to admit how long it took me to notice this, but both mom and dad are on stage during worship, so, well, I'm just grateful for a church family who keeps an eye out - and who thinks to look in the hideout when pastor's children are missing.  Sure enough, lily and her friend were conducting their own private Sunday school in the hideout.  "Mom, come on, we had a Bible!"  That club meeting ended rather abruptly.

Yep.

2.  You can ask your dad all your questions about God because he's a pastor and you're a pastor's CHILD.

So, her questions can wear you out.  There are times when the questioning begins and my husband and I just look at each other.   We're both imagining doing this:

Sweet lily.  We don't bolt.  We endure.  And her dad does a much better job than I do at trying to answer each question she has.  Her questions for her pastor dad are big: 

Where is heaven, dad?  But like WHERE?  Will I look like this in heaven, dad?  Can I be a teenager in heaven, Dad?  Do all kids go to heaven, dad?  Did Jesus have a beard?  Why does God let Satan do stuff, dad?  And, of course:  Dad?  Can I have a key to the church, dad?  Just one key, dad.  

3.  When your dad is a pastor, he can do funerals for your fish when they die - like when "Goldy" died a couple of days ago and dad buried him and read from the Bible.  

And there's just not much more to say about that.  

She claims the title of pastor's kid proudly - she loves it, embraces it, and even brags about it.  And wouldn't you if you had a dad to conduct funerals for the goldfish?  

I have the privilege of speaking for a women's retreat this weekend, and the theme for the weekend is Kingdom Heirs.  I can't tell you how much God has worked on my heart while preparing for these talks.  

The beauty of what it means to be a child of God is something that I haven't reveled in enough.  But when I let the depth of that relationship encompass me, I'm overwhelmed with the implications of what it means that I can call God, the creator of the universe, my father.  He is my father; while my earthly one is gone, He is there to comfort me, love me, rejoice over me, and guide me.  I know this because I experience His faithfulness daily, which is one of the greatest benefits of being His child.  But there are other rewards as well.  

In the midst of anxiety that can at times seem paralyzing,  God makes himself known in simple places like a sunrise or sunset.  Their beauty speaks volumes to the reality of a God who cares for His creation, and if He cares for His creation with such detail, just imagine how much more He cares for His children. And the gentle words of encouragement from a friend are reminders of God's tender love in the midst of pain and difficulty.  He is never absent in the journey.  The hands that give faithfully and generously are reminders of God's provision for His children in every single way.   I breath in deeply these never ending pictures of God's grace, all of them just glimpses of the joy and glory that awaits us when we receive our inheritance in full.  

To those who are believers in Jesus: He is our KING; we are heirs of His Kingdom; we are His beloved children.  Claim the title proudly - we have reason to do so.  Love it, embrace it....brag about it.  

You are a CHILD of the King.  

Racing in Him

I'm a runner.  Ok, so I'm kind of a wanna-be-runner, and I know this because of time spent in running stores.  A few months ago I bought a new pair of running shoes, and while checking out the various options, I asked the gentlemen who was assisting to show me the best pair of running shoes he had available.  So, he walked into the next aisle, picked up a pair shoes and said, "These."  Imagine angelic light shining down on the pair of shoes because that's exactly what it was like.  They were heavenly shoes.

So, after admiring the divine shoes, he asked me how many miles I get in during the week.  I told him.  And that's when he put down the golden shoes.  The light retracted and he said, "let's look over in this aisle."

Whatever.

It's at that point that I felt the need to throw out there one of my greatest accomplishments:  "I ran a marathon once."  And I said it with no reason to say it.  Maybe a part of me was figuring he would say, "What?!?  You're amazing.  How? When?  Where?" And then run back and grab the heavenly shoes.  But, he didn't.  He just smiled.

And then it was awkward.

So, regardless of whether or not I am a "real" runner in the eyes of the lord of the running store, I sure enjoy running.  And I'm not entirely sure why.

When it's hot, it's pretty miserable.  When it's freezing, it's pretty miserable.  There's usually something between my head and feet that aches before, during, or after the run, but there's just something about it.  Maybe it's the "runner's high" that I've heard about (though when I've described this "high" to others, I've been told that I can get the same sensation from eating Jelly Beans.  I kind of believe them).

I'm pretty competitive.  Um, maybe very competitive.  Ok, if I'm going to be honest, I'm extremely and ridiculously competitive.  As much as I love seeing my youngest excited when she wins something, I just can't bring myself to let her win any of the games we play together.  Yes, I know, she's only seven.  But still.

My son told me the other day how fast he could run a mile.  Yep.  We went outside and raced...and I won.  The problem was that I barely won.  Thus far I had been able to clean up shop on Shoots and Ladders, pool games, basketball games, and Clue, so this was too close a call.  Of course, my son wanted to race again.

And that's when it happened.  He beat me.  He beat me fair and square.  So, naturally I told him we were going to do it again.  And...he beat me...again.  He embraced the win like nothing I've ever seen.  He then wanted to have a competition in about ten different physical activities.  What ensued was a fierce battle that included:  1.  Who can balance on the exercise ball the longest 2.  Who can bounce on the exercise ball the longest without touching their legs to the ground 3.  Who can do the longest plank 4. Who can do the most pull ups, etcetera, etcetera, et...ridiculous...cetera.  

When he wanted to see who could eat the most cinnamon, I drew the preverbal line (though I made sure he knew I could eat far more than he ever could).

Where he gets this competitive nature, I will never know.

His winnings are proudly displayed with the smile that appears on his face every time we walk by the pull up bar together.  "Hey, Mom, want to try just oooone.  Just one, mom. Come on. Here, I'll show you how to do ten."  

Funny, Jrod.  Just hilarious.  And then we usually do a timed sit up contest.  Mom still rules in a few areas.

He decided a couple of weeks ago that he wanted to join a cross county and track team.  When I picked him up from his first practice, I asked him how it went.  While wiping his forehead, he said:  
"It was the intensest, super hardest and most ridiculously awesome thing I've ever done in my whole, entire life."

I have no idea where he gets his drama either.

But that's it.  That's totally it.  Running is so hard, but it's so rewarding.  There's an end goal that must be achieved and meeting that end goal, while passing others and beating your last time, of course, is indescribably...awesome.

I was reading Colossians the other day in preparation for our upcoming Bible study.  Colossians 2:6 and 7 stood out to me in a profound way:

Therefore, as you received  Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.  

It's been a challenging couple of weeks caring for my mom who's been ill for several years now.  I was reminded when we saw a doctor yesterday of the rarity of her disease, and while we sat in the waiting room feeding her, I watched with deep sorrow as she could barely swallow the soft food given to her.  My mom, however, does not give up easily.  She mustered every bit of strength she could to do what needed to be done (my fierceness didn't come from no where).   But each time I lifted a bit of food to her mouth and heard her moan with frustration, I screamed inside: "Relieve her, God!"  And then this verse.

We're In Him.  Someone asked me recently if there are any medicines available to counteract the disease.  No.  There's not.  But, there's Grace.  We walk in Him through paths that are utterly confusing and painful, not beside him or behind him, but in Him.  That's the remedy.  I'm never left alone with my tears.  So, thanksgiving through tears.  Mom is never without Him in her suffering.  So, thanksgiving through the pain.

And walk. Don't forget to walk.  We're called to continue to move forward, and as a wanna-be-runner, I get it.  I get that in a race you never quit the course (especially if racing J-rod), I get that you keep moving forward even if it means spurts of walking...skipping, hopping...however you get to the end, you get there.  The gospel is there not only for conversion, it's there for us while we grow, wrestle, and move forward through this life - it's there every step of the way.  And it's grace that enables us to continue to move forward.  Like running, moving forward through a difficult journey in life can be intense and super hard, but what we're promised in the end is ridiculously awesome.  I believe that with my whole heart.

Grace enables me to lift food to mom's mouth and carry her to bed.  Grace gives her the perseverance to swallow when she can.  Grace gives her the strength to press on until the end.   And Jesus Himself will be waiting at the finish line.

But that won't be a surprise to mom.  She's been racing in Him all along.