The closing of the day can be a needed respite; necessary time to restore your body in preparation for a new day. However, it can also mean fresh fear for many of us. Nighttime–for some–means facing deep sorrow, or anxious, intrusive thoughts. It means fitful sleep and restless mental wandering. Ultimately, it means exhaustion–in every way possible.
As believers, we know this isn’t of the Lord.
My Help Comes from the Lord (Psalm 121)
A Song of Ascents.
121 I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? 2 My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. 4 Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. 6 The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. 8 The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.
We know–even though the terrors of night threaten to erase it–that we are kept. Our Father does not sleep, neither will harm come upon us. He holds us. He comes alongside us. He has given us precious promises by which we are sustained and upheld. Dear beloved saint of the Lord, rest.
Recently, I was asked if we plan to homeschool long-term. A dear friend was wondering if I had considered the future and what home education might look like in the middle-teenage years.
My honest answer was that I don’t know. I prayerfully reassess every year, based on each individual child, the needs of our family, time, schedules, my emotional capacity, etc. And so every year I move remembering the Lord’s “precious and very great promises”(2 Peter 1:3) to me in His word, and soldier on—whatever the choice may be. And every year, we laugh, cry, and grow—in every way.
My personality makes no allowances(in my flesh) for risks. I do not like them; I would rather know the outcome. So choosing to educate my children has always been in faith. And God, in His mercy, brings fruit(1 Corinthians 3:6-8).
I am certainly no homeschool only advocate. I have learned[through my own errors] that projecting your convictions on others can be detrimental relationally. But I am an advocate for living out biblical conviction, and I recognize that it manifests differently based on circumstances/seasons/family ideals/location/etc. I could count the ways I’ve been enriched through our journey, but I think that says less about our personal choice and speaks more to the faithfulness of a Sovereign God(Col. 1)
Over the last year, in our journey with one of the children, I had become discouraged regarding progress. I wondered(as I often do) if this child was excelling or “on track”. This stems from my toxic trait of falling into a comparison “trap” with others.
But this morning, over family devotions at the breakfast table, I was reminded of the end of all things. We had just read aloud the words of David in Psalm 37, and my instructions were to pick a verse that stood out. I laughed internally thinking no one heard or understood a word I said. But then that same child for whom I have labored in prayer and concern to the Lord, jolted out of her seat and began pacing around the room, clearly mid-hunt. I waited and watched, then inquired gently,
How can I help?
Paper. Was all I heard. I need paper.
I gathered the materials she needed[pens, and scissors, too] and observed.
Of course her paper was shielded as she tuned out the chaos of morning breakfast and wrote with fierce concentration.
When she finished moments later, I gazed upon her work.
It was a slip of paper, cut out with the words:
I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
It wasn’t textbook “perfect”. But in the midst of a very loud, distracting moment, these words enlightened her heart. She wanted to hang them up so we could memorize them over the week and look at them every day.
I couldn’t help but consider Peter’s words:
“The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer. Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaint. As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another as good stewards of the multifaceted grace of God. Whoever speaks is to do so as one who is speaking actual words of God; whoever serves is to do so as one who is serving by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” 1 Peter 4:7-11 NASB2020
My prayer for all of my children is that they might grow in the love and knowledge of the Lord. That they might serve wholeheartedly, living in light of the Gospel of grace.
Because the end of all things is not academic excellence[though I know that is important in its context and should not be ignored].
The end of all things is knowing Christ.
Peter wrote these words at the end of a life marked by steadfast[though imperfect] service to the Father. He had known betrayal(of his own accord and by the disloyalty of others), physical and emotional suffering, and imprisonment. He knew his end was near. And appropriately, some of his final words to the dear believers in exile included a charge to endure to the end. A
And admittedly—beneath all of my anxieties and fearful wonderings—that is my prayer. I desperately desire that my girl—and all of my little ones—will endure faithfullyin the end and to the end[when God-willing, they will run into the arms of the One for whom they’ve struggled tearfully and faithfully all along].
I routinely doubt myself-as a wife, mama, educator, counselor, etc. This is particularly felt in the realm of home education. Most days I feel very ill-equipped. And I do wonder if what we’ve chosen in faith is right or best.
But that’s just it, isn’t it?
Whatever we choose, we do it in faith. We do it trusting the perfect provision of our Lord(Phil. 4:19), remembering those precious treasures in scripture we’ve clung tightly to for so long. We do it because the Unchanging, mighty God holds us fast. We do it because we know that at the end of all things to live faithfully for the glory of God and by His grace is our best expression of worship. He has given us His very son, and so at the very least, we must surrender every mundane moment. We can choose to see Him in it in gratitude and in worship.
It isn’t lost on me that he was always there—for every performance, game and ceremony…not to mention all of the little moments in between. He was present. And usually my biggest cheerleader. When no one stepped up to coach my basketball team, he did it. When I needed a last minute-run to the store for hairspray–he made it. If I needed anything–prayer, wise counsel, encouragement–he was there. Not because he wanted to be my favorite parent, or the “cool dad”, but because he had committed long before I was even born to love me.
There’s a story I like to tell my daughters about this kind of love. As a child I grew accustomed to walking through tall, dew-kissed blades of grass to his office. It was a a couple hundred feet away, and with every step my heart leaped at the thought of a big mid-morning hug, and [possibly] a treat from the giant glass jar on his desk. But the walk wasn’t without turmoil–for there were stickers littering the path. Of course I didn’t mind because I get to see Daddy, but it was mildly painful, and my blood-splotched toes were evidence of this.
It is always at this point in the story when my daughters, wide-eyed, glance up asking–Mama, what did you DO? This is when I respond that I did nothing. But my daddy–their Papa–did. He carefully wrapped my feet in sheets of snow white printer paper–the durable, crisp kind that isn’t easily torn–taping along the edges. That always ensured my safe, scar-free return. And it made me feel more special than anyone on earth.
I could recall countless stories like this–when he thoughtfully considered my needs before his own; planning and prayerfully counting the cost. He placed–more often than not–the needs of others before his own. He did it joyfully in my foundational years, and it is with a heart swollen with gratitude that I recount the moments.
Even now, as a young mom of 3 thousands of miles from home, I have watched how he and my mother have taken strains to provide seasons of respite[through family vacation, time away with my husband, or caring for our littles so I can recharge]. I can think of numerous times when both of my parents sacrificed to make our lives more fun and comfortable, even if that meant they themselves were lacking. And I can’t help but wonder if that would have happened without my father’s tender, yet strong hand to lead our family. He modeled gracious living—giving of oneself constantly that others might be nourished–so well, and He continues building upon that legacy even now.
Susannah Spurgeon once wrote of a father’s love,
What little one is afraid to run to a loving father and ask for all it wants? Never a doubt rises in a child’s mind as to the supply of all his needs, and the direction of all that concerns him. The child has positively no care for the present, no thought for tomorrow, no fears for the past. Father knows everything. Father can do everything. Father provides everything. In fact, father loves.
Free Grace & Dying Love
I am grateful because I knew this love, and it continues even now. But I have seen the brokenness of this world. I have heard the stories of friends, and I would be remiss if I failed to mention the harsh reality that the word father stirs tangled emotions for some. This grieves my heart more than I can say. The fallen world has stained things meant to be wholly true, lovely, pure, excellent and praiseworthy. I have seen this within my own circumstances at times. However, we are not without hope. I know this because I have a father who–in his own imperfections–faithfully pointed me to it. He knew that as my earthly father, his failings would be many(although I can’t think of any at present). But he also knew the only One who is entirely good, strong and kind. At every point–in conversation, voicemails, prayers, letters–my father’s eyes were fixed on the Father. When my sensitivities planted seeds of doubt within my own heart, my daddy was there to remind me of truth. Not because he was a perfect man, but because he served the Perfect Father.
Spurgeon continues,
O my soul, can you for a moment imagine what it would be of joy, and rest, and peace, to live out day by day such a child-life love of the Father? He knows you altogether. He understands all of your individual peculiarities, sees your weakness and sinfulness, your sore temptations, perplexities and daily shortcomings; but he loves you notwithstanding all, not for any merit or worthiness in you, but because you are his child. You have believed on his dear Son, whom he gave to die for your sins; you have accepted his complete salvation, you have received the Spirit of adoption, and now with confidence and perfect trust, you can look up to him and say, ‘Abba Father’. And does this not suffice to make you absolutely ‘without carefulness’, like a little child?
Free Grace & Dying Love
And so on this Father’s Day, I am humbled to be loved by a father who showed me the Father through unconditional love, unending sacrifice and tender care.
Whatever this day conjures within, there is peace in remembering Paul’s words to the Romans:
What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us. He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? For I am sure that neither death nor life, neither angels nor rulers, nor things present or things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:32,38-39
I have written about dreaming before. Not the sleeping kind. But those desires carefully curated and hidden away in the uttermost depths of the soul. When I was tiny, I thought my dream was to be a dentist. This was quickly foiled upon the discovery that mouths are gross. Then as I grew, I believed(and this was an idea that followed me all through college) that I would be a performer.
I would be on Broadway, or in television. And I would orchestrate my success.
But then things didn’t really unfold that way, and I can remember feeling a little bit lost. I lingered there longer than I should have, pursuing different avenues in the same vein, waiting for something to happen and it just never did. No matter how hard I worked, nothing really happened and –somehow–the dream faded. It didn’t sparkle and shine the way it once had.
One of the redundant lies our culture proclaims is that we must pursue our passion. We hear this in an inspiring biography of someone who “never gave up” or we see it printed on a graphic tee shirt on instagram. Follow Your Dreams. Believe in Yourself. Do What Makes You Happy. While I am not opposed to the idea that we’re all individually driven toward some specific bent or another, I don’t necessarily find these mantras(for lack of a better word) wise.
It was the staunch transcendentalist Thoreau who once said, Our truest life is in dreams awake.
While I don’t align with his particular worldview, I think Mr. Thoreau has a point.
I spent years pursuing dreams that I believed with every fiber of my being. And I don’t regret that. But I do think there is something to be said for considering the heart of the matter. Was my desire to be known? Or to do something for the sake of bringing glory to the One who gave me the desire to do it? Sometimes, I think it was both. But in the end, I saw at my very core that the desire was to fill some void that was never empty in the first place.
Now, as a wife, mama, etc. I wouldn’t say that I’ve stopped being a dreamer. In fact, my INFP personality leaves me full of ideas almost constantly(bless my patient husband).But things look different. Nothing turned out the way I imagined. I’ve realized who holds–and even cultivates–these dream-like longings of my heart. And I see–with every seemingly mundane moment–the beauty in fixing my gaze on the One who authors my wild ideas and quiet ambitions.
For years I used to regret never pushing myself harder, or giving myself space to pursue my passion. But oh, what freedom I found in embracing what I was given! And what a peace in knowing that it was not only the right but very best thing for me. It wasn’t that my dreams died, it was that they didn’t shine nearly as brightly as they once had. The familiar glow that lifted my spirits for so long had lost its place.
That’s because the One who formed me directed my gaze towards the good, pleasing, perfect plan that was mine all along. My heart is finally at rest not in the why, but the who.
redeemingthemundane
In the long days, when I feel my hours have been wasted and left wanting…when I cannot muster the courage to wash another dish, or wipe another countertop…when discipline seems exhausting and consistency wavers in my own feeble spirit, I want to look back here and remember the goodness and grace in fixing my eyes on the One who has held my heart all along. Whoever I am, whatever I do is meaningless if He is not there at the center. Today, whatever your now is, however your heart may grieve over what’s lost or left behind, remember Him. Recall His promises. Remember whose you are, and rest in knowing that these ordinary moments–which may not look as you expected–are not for nothing.
His plan and purpose is far greater than anything you could have imagined. He is good. He is faithful. He will give you grace to carry on; to truly and fully live in dreams awake.
Redeeming the Mundane 