Cultivating Peace

When troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow...

--James 1:2-4

He didn't have to but he did, answering a prayer long hoped for, bending down to become small, lifting up in his greatness. It was through adversity that hope was born. Embracing loss, letting it cut deep until what bleeds out is pure and holy.

I don't ever want to forget the pain because it reminds me of the healing. Recollecting and celebrating what once was fallow ground becoming whole and holy. This should give cause for great joy, again and again. 

“Joy emerges from the ashes of adversity through your trust and thankfulness” (Jesus Calling, Sarah Young).

Having endured the sorrows of the past, I can step forward into joy, accepting each challenge that comes my way through grace, with peace. But, when I get caught up in the snare of fear, instead of choosing to live in the victory already won, my feet trip on the path. I try to pull myself up in my own strength and plow ahead in my own power. Keeping my eyes on my feet I stumble, again and again falling into the trap of discouragement, worry, anger, and fear. These are familiar mechanisms I so blindly put on in place of joy and peace.

(Photo credit: Milada Vigerova/Unsplash)

Daily I pray that I may be worthy of the suffering of my past, that none of it would be in vain, offering it up for God's purposes. In the book of 1 Samuel, Hannah was both barren and favored. She could not produce a child for her husband and yet he treated her with grace. When the day of sacrifice came, 

...to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb (1 Samuel 1:5).

The Lord has given me grace upon grace, for he has made me his portion and he has filled me. When grief was poured out through tears upon the alter, he gave a double portion for me. So, when our little miracle was born, it was in response that we took her to church to be dedicated back to the Lord, following the model of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:10-11.

Yet without pretense, I confess that the everyday mothering of this gifted child has not been the portraiture of a saintly scene, babe to breast, halo on the brow, sun beams streaming through sacred panes. But it has been this, every day: Humbling. It has been all of these: Tedious. Monotonous. Lonely. Bothersome. Frightful. Nonsensical. Exhausting. And more... But more than any of these, motherhood has proved itself an opportunity to humbly enter into the sacred.

Humble yourself under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up. Cast all your cares upon him for he cares about you (1 Peter 5:6-7).

Don't think that for a moment I haven't been both treacherously appalled by the enormity of the task of raising a child and gratuitously in love with the holy honor of being a mother.

It is grace. I don't deserve this glorious gift--and I scarcely should be allowed to do it.

When a crying infant startled me awake at an ungodly hour and I wanted nothing more than to put the pillow over my head and go back to sleep. When a writhing toddler bellows and stamps her feet in the storm of a tantrum. When the pressure mounts and I bark orders about how to put clothes on and “Can't you do this by now? We're late!” The stained glass shatters in unholy wreckage upon my pristine cathedral floor.

These walls I've built around my piety, archways leading into holy chambers, and pillars erected to great heights of splendor, such grandiose ideals and righteous expectations for myself – for my child. So when it all comes crashing down in a moment, I am left gazing upon the rubble of brokenness that proves that I am only human. Sin scarring my heart and leaving me breathless.

This becomes the prayer of the righteous – the undeserved sinner-saint – a mother's prayer. Jesus, help. I need You right now, because I can't do this. I cannot strive, control, or cajole any longer. It does me no good. Take this child. Use her for your purposes. Don't let me get in the way of who you intend for her to be. Make her life a fragrant offering that brings glory to your name. Help her to follow you all the days of her life, to stand up in her generation for Truth. That she may shine like a star in the universe – in a generation that stands for nothing – that she might stand for Christ.

The full weight of glory presses upon my shoulders and I am grounded and humbled, brought low by the gravity of this honor. God the Father, the Perfect Parent, answers with wisdom, which he so freely gives, instructing this homemaker to become a peacemaker. 

But the wisdom that comes from above is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and the fruit of good deeds. It shows no favoritism and is always sincere. And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of righteousness. 

– James 3:17-18

Deeply Rooted

Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is.

– Ephesians 3:17-18

On a recent camping trip to Mammoth, California, our family took a long hike into the mountains. Along the path we encounter monuments of the creation that sometimes leave one breathless and full of wonder. One such artifact was the huge remains of a tangled system of roots that had once been the foundation of a very large tree. As I observed the enormity of this root structure, I pondered the meaning as it relates to our spiritual foundation. I thought a lot about the importance of roots as the foundation of a tree as it equates to faith in Christ.

One of my favorite things about Summer is the lingering warm evenings and late sunsets. My family enjoys taking a leisurely walk around the neighborhood just before dusk. We have come to cherish our nature walks when we can marvel at the grace of God's creation through the eyes of our child. Our daughter skips merrily along the path, stopping every once in a while to stoop low and observe the movement of a bug on the ground.

On our tree lined street, many of the sycamore and magnolia trees hang low enough along the walk that our girl, a mere 40” tall, has to stand on tip-toe, reaching her hands high overhead to touch the leaves with her fingertips. Occasionally Daddy will lift her onto his shoulders to grab hold of a leaf as she gazes in amazement at the fine detail of every vein and stroke its velvety skin.

Then leaping down along the path, she delightfully lifts her hands in praise and sings, “Thank you Jesus for the sun, and the trees, and the shade!”

My favorite place in our house is seated right under the double windows in the front during the light of dawn. Where we live in the suburbs, tall sycamore trees line the streets, the fullness of their branches extending out and providing shade across the neighborhood. Last year city ordinance forced us to remove the tree out in front of our house, which had really become a beloved feature of our home. I had loved to sit in our large front windows on a breezy day and listen to leaves rustle and clap as if offering their adoration to God.

You will live in joy and peace. The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands! (Isaiah 55:11-12)

One of the joys of being a parent is viewing the world through a child's eyes of wonder. It is even more remarkable to witness the faith of a child. Jesus said that unless a person can become like a little child one could not enter the Kingdom of Heaven (Matthew 18:3). I learn more from my little girl about the love of the Father than I do from any book.

We make cherished memories on Saturday mornings, raking the large leaves in a pile and our girl jumping into it with childish abandonment. How I marvel at her free spirit and long for such freedom in my heart. How easily the cares of this life consume our affections and burden our hands from lifting in praise!

"Trees" by Lily

One of the best gifts my mother ever gave me was the gift of prayer, as we drove in the car on the way to school, while we sat on the couch at the end of the day, as she knelt over my bedside. Her example formed a foundation for me that has developed into a life of faith. I want to give my daughter the gift of God's love everyday.

My greatest desire in this life is to know God more and to impart the fullness of his love to my child. Yet as I watch her explore her world in wonder, I realize that the best way I can teach her the love of God is to live it. That I would plant my roots deeply in Christ, living love by example, through reading his word, taking time to pray, and serving others. The fruit of that will be a legacy of faith for my child. 

But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. 

– Jeremiah 17:7