After the Darkness, Light

This post has been simmering in my heart for a few months, especially as I meet with more friends who, like me, are well into the season of life where we are launching grown children and coming alongside as they navigate adulthood. Or maybe you're one who's just now walking into this season. Without even trying, I can rattle off name after name of friends who are finding this season more challenging than anyone prepared us for.

Sometimes we are tentative. Things look good; then again, he has yet to be proven in the fires of the big, bad world. And we see further down the pike than he does. We know some of what lies ahead. Like a friend said to me, "He doesn't know what he doesn't know."

Sometimes we are tearful; that gap we left, that unturned stone, it is now showing up, wreaking havoc in her life, and breaking our hearts.

Rarely are any of my friends finding this to be seamless. After spending twenty-ish years laying a foundation, and then building upon it, we finally take the scaffolding down and stand back. It's an awesome thing to watch them stand on their own. Then we breathe again.

Or maybe you're still holding your breath.
Pensive doubting, fearful heart.
This one's for you.

"He is still risen."
The day after Easter, my newsfeed was lit up with this proclamation. I don't have a problem with setting a day aside to remember the Resurrection. As long as...
As long as we don't forget on all those other days.  But if I greeted you today with the joyous proclamation "He is risen!" you would think me odd or maybe clever. I know that because it's June, and there's nary a hint of Resurrection on my newsfeed today. We are forgetful creatures, indeed.

He is risen!
We need this Truth.
We need it on a random Tuesday.
We need it in August.
We need it in the dead of winter.

He is risen!
We need to steep in this hope.
We need it in our church families.
We need it in our marriages.
And we need it in our parenting.

We need, every day, the Truth that God is in the business of raising dead people to life.
Every.
Single.
Day.

"Post tenebras lux."
After darkness, light.

It was the theme of the Geneva Reformation after literally centuries of darkness for the Church, brought on largely by bad soteriology (doctrine of salvation) and bad ecclesiology (doctrine of the church). Throw in widespread illiteracy and an elitist oligarchy which functioned under the misnomer 'priesthood', and we had a first class mess that practically guaranteed no one could be a Berean, even if they wanted to.

Then--at just the right time--God raised up men who would stand up to the Enemy and bring the Gospel to the people. Their goal was to preach salvation to every corner of society, from the king on his throne to the boy who drove the plow. The darkness was beginning to die. The good news of the Resurrection was gaining ground. A full-blown reformation was at hand.

The hope of this reformation was anchored in the Resurrection, that God, who raised Jesus from the dead, could also raise the king and the plow boy to life, justified by a faith that came from God Himself.

After the darkness, light.
Likewise, the hope of reformation in our children is anchored in the Resurrection. The same Father who raised His Son to life can raise your child to life. The same Father can turn your child's heart of stone into a heart of flesh.

Relating to these new adults we know as our children is delightful. There's nothing as wonderful as investing in this parenting relationship and then waking up one day to realize that these fascinating, deep, gifted people are our friends. And we enjoy being with them. More amazing still, they enjoy being with us! Who knew?

They aren't 'fun size' any more, though.
These adult kids are like Texas; everything's bigger.
Gone are the days of potty training and spilled milk.
Gone even are the days of junior high awkwardness, immaturity, and insecurity.
Gone are the simpler questions like, Which airsoft rifle should I buy?

Adults have adult questions.
Who am I, and why am I here?
Is God Who you always told me He is?
We're no longer talking about obedience; we're talking about accountability.
We're no longer talking about rules; we're talking about wisdom.
We're teaching less and dialoguing more.

Adults struggle with adult sins.
This is what has my mom friends in tears.
And this is where we need to remind ourselves that He is still risen.
When the reality of your children's sin nature smacks you in the face, find your hope in the Resurrection.

I was reading Exodus this morning. God toys with the Red Sea as the children of Israel look on. First, He parts it. He parts a sea. Are you grasping this? He parts a SEA in two and leads Israel through it! I would love to have been a fly on that wall. What were the little guys saying? Mommy, look at that big fish! What were the old folks saying? Never in all my born days...Then--at just the right time--He closes it over their enemies. Finished. Done. Kaput. God:1/Pharoah:0. Game over.

But then. In the fifteenth day of the second month, this: they grumble against the Lord.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  They just walked through a sea parted by the Lord on their behalf...and now they are grumbling?!?

Seems incredible to us. But we do the same thing when we fret over our kids.

God raised Jesus from the dead. Think about that. He died a death so horrible, so tortuous and terrible, that His body wasn't even recognizable. And God raised Him to life! God raised YOU from the dead, too. You were dead in your sin. You were at enmity with God. And--at just the right time--God made you the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus!

And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience. Among them we too formerly lived in the lust of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest. But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us even when we were dead in our transgressions made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places with Christ Jesus. Ephesians 2:1-6

Have you forgotten that? Did you witness the hand of God in your own life, but you grumble against the Lord that He has not worked in your child? Do you doubt the faithfulness of God because of the sinfulness of your child?

After the darkness, light.
Sometimes, there are sad seasons of darkness that you have to walk through with your child. If she is saved, grieve with her. Forgive her. Come alongside her. And remind her that Jesus has raised her to life. If he is not saved, bring him to the Father in prayer. Petition the Lord to save him. Trust the sovereignty and goodness of the Father.  Look at His Resurrection track record.

All the walls, I will repair.
Thou shalt be rebuilt anew.
And in thee it shall appear, 
What a God of love can do.*

Oh, mama, this is what the Gospel is for!
Jesus died because your children do sin, not because they might sin.
But, praise God, Jesus is Risen!
And the Father is in the business of bringing dead people to life.
That includes your children.

For if we have been united with him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like His. Romans 6:5

Can I get an amen?

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*Pensive Doubting, Fearful Heart, words John Newton, 1779, music Justin Smith, 2012, Indelible Grace.

Brave

Bruce Jenner the Person raises some interesting questions about grace. I've learned a lot about grace in the last year. I've learned what it looks like to give grace and to receive it. I've learned the power of grace to change lives. But I freely confess that I don't know how to do grace with an unrepentant person who is thumbing his nose at God and glorying in his sin. And I don't know how to do grace with someone I'll likely never meet.

I do know this, though: His grace was not intended as a place to wipe your feet.*

So I admit it. I don't dwell on Bruce Jenner the Person. It's not that I wish him poorly; it's just that he's not even a blip on my radar screen. I don't know the man.  I don't wonder what he's up to today. I don't keep up with his social network. I don't lie awake at night worrying about him. If he were my brother, my neighbor, or my grocery checker, that would be different. But there are 20 degrees of separation here. There is, therefore, little obligation of moral proximity. I will leave that to the believers who do actually know him.

And I'll admit this, too. I'm pretty tired of articles and admonitions telling me I can't speak to the topic unless I am praying for him...Praying for him? I'm praying for my bi-vocational husband, my children, my daughter-in-law, and my granddaughter, my church family, my government, the persecuted church, and a handful of unsaved friends. Bruce Jenner is so far down the list, he's not even on the list. Sorry.

And that precludes me from weighing in on the topic?
Poppycock.

I care very much about Bruce Jenner the Proposition.
And that has everything to do with those who do live within my moral proximity: chiefly, my children.

Brothers, do not be children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature. 
I Corinthians 14:20

Bruce Jenner the Proposition is about definitions.
Mamas, my concern here is for our children. Part of our job as mother, as educator, as discipler, is to teach our children the vocabulary of Truth. And know this, deep in your bones. If you don't...someone else will.

"Man."
A tree is not a car.
A dog is not a piano.
A man is not a woman.
Lopping off body parts and pasting on other ones does not alter that in the slightest.
Bruce Jenner is a man.

That is not hateful.
Or intolerant.
Or narrow-minded.
It is fact.
And facts are stubborn things.

Facts are also simple things. You are what your DNA says you are. And your DNA is what God says it is. So someone who rejects his gender is doing much more than rejecting his DNA; he is rejecting God, the architect of DNA. It is a shame that we have to spend more than a moment on this silly, stupid argument. These are facts my six year old can grasp. But we do have to spend time here because our culture insists on intellectual regress. In contrast, our homes should be places which foster delight, not doubt, in God's wisdom as Creator. There is no room in a gospel-saturated home for a creation 'oops.'

Bruce Jenner the Proposition is about legacy.
If Bruce Jenner the person were to die today, I would be sobered, not because it was Bruce Jenner, whom I do not know, but because any time a soul who lived at enmity with God has gone to face his Maker, I have the same two responses:
I am saddened and sobered for his eternity.
I am humbled and grateful for mine--because I know I don't deserve it.

But Bruce Jenner the Proposition is not going to die; it is here to stay until Jesus returns. That is his sad legacy. Even if Bruce becomes a believer (make no mistake; the gospel is big enough to save Bruce Jenner), his legacy will always be linked to this sin. Even if he turns from the Wide Path, there will be countless others who will be influenced. That's what happens when we choose foolishness over wisdom. That's what happens when we let our feet stray, even for a moment, to the right or to the left.

Bruce Jenner's legacy is forcing this issue from dark and twisted corners to glamourous magazine covers. He's normalizing a perversion that has never been normal before. Think about it. Do  you remember the night your dad or mom sat you down and explained transgenderism to you? No. You don't. They didn't need to. But we do, thanks to the legacy of Bruce Jenner.

Chiefly, though, Bruce Jenner the Proposition is about bravery.
Jenner works at his perversion like Tim Duncan works at free throws. It's the easiest thing in the world to do. And without the restraining power of the Holy Spirit, we would, too. We love our flesh. It calls to us, and we lean in to it as it beckons over the cliff. That's not brave; that's depraved.

Bravery is doing what is right at the risk of personal cost. Bravery is hard. This man is the darling of the Wide Path. He risks nothing to explore his depravity. But culture stands there in its castle built on sand and calls him "brave."

And, Church, listen up.
Neither is it brave for you and I to curl up into a fetal ball and keep the peace. We are afraid of speaking the Truth because, by definition, the Truth offends. It sets limits. By speaking what Truth is, we necessarily speak what Truth is not. We are afraid of being rejected by friends or co-workers.
We are afraid of being seen as loveless, compassion-less, thoughtless. And we are really, really afraid of standing alone.

Face it.
We fear the rejection of man more than we value the approbation of God.

On the other hand, it is brave to be true to our Lord.
While it is cowardly to keep peace, it is brave to make peace.
It is brave to defend righteousness.
It is brave to stand alone.

You know what, though? Part of me doesn't want to be brave and doesn't want my kids to be brave.
I don't want them to be scorned, mocked, rejected, disdained.
I don't want them to lose jobs, friends, reputations.
I don't want this to cost me. And I don't want this to cost them.

But then I remember Stephen.
And Paul. And Peter.
I remember John Bunyan.
And William Tyndale.
And Richard Wurmbrand.
I remember our current ambassadors in chains,
like Saeed Abedini.
My cowardice makes a mockery of these men who have, like their Savior, set their faces like flint and taken up their crosses.
Or...would it be better to say that their courage makes a mockery of my cowardice?
And rightfully so.

Beloved, I urge you as aliens and strangers to abstain from fleshly lusts which wage war against the soul. I Peter 2;11

It is tough right now to be a Christian. But it has always been tough. The path has always been narrow. And we have always been aliens. So set your face like flint, and carry your cross.
It's time to be...
BRAVE.

All I know is I'm not home yet. 
This is not where I belong.
Take this world and give me Jesus.
This is not where I belong.**



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*Angry Young Men, Randy Stonehill, 1985
**Where I Belong, Building 429, 2010