Letting Go

I put her on a plane yesterday.

About six weeks ago, we were jumping up and down because we had found out Alex had been selected to intern with the staff at a Worldview Academy Leadership Camp. Woot! We had been hoping and praying for this. A few days later, we were jumping up and down because WVA had phoned to say they had bumped Alex to a staff position and had added another camp. So now she could also attend the national staff training week. Double woot!!

Everyone was excited...

...until yesterday. She and I stood in line at the airport and waited for check-in. We went over last-minute itinerary, double-checked her stuff, talked about contact information.

"We didn't pray for you!" I wondered out loud.

So, we took advantage of the few minutes we had left before she would have to cross security and we would have to say goodbye. We found a couple chairs in a quiet spot, and there we prayed.

I prayed for Alex to learn. As the staff studies John Piper's Think, may she learn to think to the glory of God. May she learn to serve. May she learn to give of herself.

In the movie, The Village, a father pulls his daughter aside and asserts, "Some are born to lead where others only follow. You are one of those people." I could say exactly the same thing about Alex. So I prayed for Alex to lead. As a small group leader, may she lead younger Christians to process the 26 hours of lectures they will attend during their camp week. May she lead by example, as well as by her words.

But the opportunities that await Alex did not lessen the impact of the reality facing me.

She is ready to learn.

She is ready to lead.

And she is ready to leave.

As I watched her walk through security, I thought of my friend Suzanne, who once said that having a child is allowing part of your heart to walk around outside your body. At that moment, I fully understood that.

Then, Alex picked up her things, donned her backpack, waved goodbye...

...and was gone.

And part of my heart was gone with her.

I blinked.

I blinked again.

And as I made my way down the escalator, the reality of it all hit me. My baby was grown up. She was leaving to put into practice what we had spent 18 years pouring into her.

She was leaving to try her hand at using her gifts and being used by God.

This was the whole point of the past 18 years.

But, boy, did it hurt.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, Suzy Bogguss started singing.

"Oh, letting go.

There's nothing in her way now.

Letting go.

There's room enough to fly.

Even though she's spent her whole life waiting,

It's never easy...

Letting go."

Great. The tears were getting hard to just blink back now. My face was crinkling; I could feel it. And I kept my head down, so people couldn't see. I found another seat and waited until the phone rang. "Okay, Mom. I'm at the gate. Love you."

Love you, too.

That's why this is such a big deal.

We are raising our kids to fly.

But now that they are beginning to taxi out to the runway, I'm getting sad.

Our first two are launching; it's a wonder to behold. And the others are lining up behind them.

I can't stop them. I don't want to stop them.

This is a hard season, but it's a good hard.

And it's just a transition that will bring the next season.

And that will be good, too.

By the time I was driving away, another song was playing in my mind.

And before I knew it, it was just me and my song, no music or radio, and no witnesses. Just God to hear me.

"If I know You, You will turn this day into a perfect surprise.

If I know You like I think I do, the worst of times will work out right.

Lord, I know there's hope in sight.

You will get me through if I know You."

And I smiled.

Parents Do the Darndest Things

Scotty.

Lauren.

Scotty.

Lauren.

James?

Ew, no.

Haley?

Gag, no.

Scotty, Lauren, Scotty, Lauren...SCOTTY!!!

I admit it. This season I got sucked into the vortex of American Idol for my very first time. I don't even watch television. (Per capita, our household has one television for every six people; the fat kind, not the flat kind.) Even the shows we really DO like, like 24 and ...um...yeah, like 24, we watch in four-hour recorded batches. And we haven't done that in about three years.

Television is a time waster.

And a brain-cell killer.

So, imagine my surprise walking into my family room and finding my children watching and discussing the merits (or lack thereof) of the AI contestants. "How do you know who Pia is?" I wanted to ask my eight-year-old. "And WHO turned on this nonsense anyway?" My 18-year-old gave me a sheepish grin. Oh, sister.

My older children are adults now, and I am not inclined to order them around. But I did lurk from the kitchen, where I could both get something done and hear what was going on. I gaped at the immaturity of Stefano, who was about as advanced as my two year old. And I marveled at the chick who looked like she wanted to be a floral Carmen Miranda when she grew up. But even my "parental" oversight did not keep me from getting sucked in. "Lauren is going to win," I announced somewhere around week three. Big heads, medium heads, little heads all turned and gaped at me.

Did I just say that?

I had an opinion???

I had an opinion!

Oh.my.goodness.

It was curtains for me. From that point on, I hung on just to prove myself correct.

"That song just didn't do it for me."

"She doesn't have enough star appeal."

"He KISSED J-Lo???!!!"

"Lauren's gonna win..." over and over and over...

Last night, I was downright misty-eyed when Scotty and Lauren, the two nicest kids on the show, stood on stage as the winner was announced.

"Oh...that was so sweet," I crooned.

Good.grief.

What happened to me?

I'll tell you what happened. My kids happened. Kids push us into territory no one else can.

When we brought Zach home twenty years ago, I got a huge education on what I was willing to endure for my children--starting with childbirth.

I.am.NEVER.doing.that.again, I insisted shortly after the birth.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah...

Then my milk came in. Oh.my.gosh.

(That is a story unto itself, the details of which I shall spare you.)

The endless spit up.

Zach had a projectile--not vomit--but poop. Right on the wall. I haven't seen anything like it before or since.

I was getting highly educated in fluids pouring from bodily orifices, both his and mine, I had never even thought about.

My motto became, "Eh, it'll dry."

Then they grew a bit, and the hormones arrived.

Yikes.

My young men checked out, and Brett assured me they would return someday.

Me: Did you do your Algebra II?

Them: huh?

Okay, see you on the other side...

My young women suddenly burst into tears for no logical reason or predicted, with Harold Camping accuracy, that their world was going to end because their hair was turning wavy.

Horrors.

And if you want some real fun, time the spacing of your children so all these hormones can collide like asteroids around the dinner table.

In retrospect, I guess a little singing contest wasn't such a horrible thing. I could do without Lady Gaga; we all could. And, while I love Steven Tyler in the context of Aerosmith, I think it is a categorically bad idea to ever give that man a mic when he's not singing. (It was kinda fun to watch him do Dream On...)

But it was still probably one of the dumbest things we've done together.

Ah well. American Idol is hardly the final frontier of parenting.

But I'm so thankful for the spice, in terms of both laughter and tears, my children have added to my life.
And if your kids aren't spicing up your life, you're probably not paying attention.

My Man Netanyahu

I know what it's like to live surrounded by the enemy. As a Redskins fan, it's one thing to root for them from the safety of the Old Dominion. It's another thing entirely to hail them from the Lone Star State. This here is Cowboy country.

Last Friday, I was once again sitting in the home seats but pulling for the away team. Our own president showed both his cards and his ignorance when he condescendingly told Benjamin Netanyahu that, to help advance the Palestinian peace process, Israel should go back to pre-1967 borders.

Does President Obama even know what happened in 1967?

Does he know that every Arab state surrounding that speck of dust called Israel was so threatened by her--cough--geographical domination, that they were gathering for war?

That Egypt was building up military might on the Egyptian/Israeli border?

That then Egyptian President Abdul Nasser said, and I quote, "Our basic objective will be the destruction of Israel. The Arab people want to fight"?

(Like a wild donkey, I can only assume.)

Does President Obama know that Israel is the only democratic government in the region?

Does President Obama know that the Arab countries, with their official state religion of Islam, promote gender oppression, sexual mutilation, and burquas?

Or does he, perhaps, think of misogyny and Shariah law as hip? sexy? 21st century?

So Bebe schooled Barack.

Which is good.

'Cause Columbia didn't, apparently.

Mr. Netanyahu said:

"Remember that, before 1967, Israel was all of nine miles wide. It was half the width of the Washington Beltway, and these were not the boundaries of peace; they were the boundaries of repeated wars, because the attack on Israel was so attractive...So we can't go back to those lines, and we're going to have to have a long-term military presence along the Jordan."

Mr. Netanyahu is absolutely correct. In 1967, when tiny Israel saw that they were about to be wiped off the map by a bunch of racist, maniacal, anti-Semites, Israel struck decisively, brilliantly, efficiently--and settled the entire matter in six days.

Six.Days.

It was a wonder to behold.

Actually, it was a miracle.

And it was not unlike the miracle of our own American Revolution. A threatened people stood up to the bully and said, "Enough." But perhaps Mr. Obama thinks we should cede back the thirteen original colonies, too...

The peace talks be damned.

There is no peace without the King of Kings.

And there is no negotiating with barbarians and cavemen.

Peace at all costs is never commanded by God and always commanded by people who read the Bible badly.

The most either side can do in this mess is to live at peace with all men as far as it is possible.

I wonder, if when Netanyahu is done with his stint in Israel, he might consider running for U.S. President. Shoot, if a Kenyan can be president, why not an Israeli?

Unions...Again

Well, that bastion of Americana, Chicago, was the sight of a minor victory this past week for us anti-union types. They passed a bill that would link teacher tenure to....wait for it...

performance!

Can you hear the collective, scandalized, liberal gasp as they watch their padded job security go up in the smoke of poor test scores and graduating seniors who can't read?

Wait. Only half of all students in Chicago actually graduate...Never mind.

However, as I read to the end of the Wall Street Journal article, I began to get suspicious. Rahm Emanuel applauded the bill? Hold on a card-checkin' minute. Oh. There it was near the bottom. Teachers unions are already planning a trailer bill. Can anything good come out of Chicago?

But Chicago is not alone. The union thuggery continued on a national scale as the National Labor Relations Board filed a complaint against Boeing because the company wants to move part of its business--and 1,000 jobs--from Washington to South Carolina.

First, Boeing's side: As South Carolina is a right-to-work state, and Washington is not, the guys over at Boeing thought maybe the best way to grow their business and their profits was to get the union out of the way. Silly CEO's. You didn't think the point of business was profitability, did you?

Make me laugh.

Now, NLRB's side: As South Carolina is a right-to-work state, and Washington is not, the labor flunkies determined that it would be villainous of Boeing and hard on the workers in South Carolina because the workers in South Carolina could not be pressed into a union.

Ummm....

How about the fact that this is a Constitutional Republic which is supposed to guarantee its citizens the freedom of association? And freedom of association also implies freedom from association. To be pressed into a union association, therefore, is unconstitutional. How about the fact that our economic prosperity has been built upon the capitalist approach to free markets? And a free market demands the freedom of private businesses to move about the country? How about common sense, and the fact that no business can resist an employee of integrity, good work ethic, and profitable output?

And that is what keeps the NLRB awake at night...that some laborer somewhere out there is advancing by the merit of his work, getting promoted, and earning raises without the help of Big Labor.

Is anyone but NLRB crying in their beer over this?

'Cause I know I'm not.

But this little NLRB temper tantrum begs the question...If unions are so desirable to the American worker, why must the American worker be compelled--in 28 states--to join?

Because the American labor force is not stupid, that's why. They know intuitively what the studies are now showing to be fact: that, according to the Wall Street Journal, right-to-work states generate $2,760 larger per-person increases. And wages rise faster in states that don't require union membership. The American worker also knows concretely--when he sees garnished union dues on his pay stub--that union membership is not a good deal. And he asks himself just what it is he is getting for this fee. And he can't think of one blessed answer.

Would it be overly astute to respond here...DUH! ... ?

Stupid unions.

Where is Elaine Chao when you need her?

Keep My Drafty Heart Alive

It's so wonderful, those times as a believer, when I feel close to God, close to His heart. I feel His arms around me. I see Him smile at me. My heart is overwhelmed by His love for me, his daughter.

But there are other times.

Times when I feel the draft of a cold wind shudder through my heart.

Times when I look...

And I listen...

But I can't seem to even make out His shape, let alone hear His voice or feel His arms.

I know in my head that He is still the God who is there. And I know He's a BIG God. But I can feel a chilliness in my heart that is unsettling to me. I think I feel that draft when I take my eyes off of Him and start looking at me.

There are lots of reasons for me to look at me.

I have my responsibilities, like taking care of my family or following through on volunteer commitments. I have my hobbies, like writing this blog and reading my books and keeping all the ideas that go pinging around in my head from careening into each other. I have my worries, like the kids or the mortgage or current events. I have my besetting sin, like those things I just can't seem to kick, no matter what. I have my past--my failures--that sometimes keep me awake at night.

As soon as I start to focus on me, I lose focus of God. My flesh must be an awfully powerful force to overtake and obscure my BIG God. And yet it does.

Then the draft blows across my heart.

Last week, the week before Easter, I was feeling drafty again. My sins and my failures have a way, especially during Holy Week, of really getting me down and reminding me just how far short I fall of being worthy of Jesus' finished work on the Cross. Never mind that that is the whole point of the Cross. A drafty heart is not a logical heart.

But God is so good. There I was, in my chilly state, putting one foot in front of the other and trying ever so hard to keep my mind off the weight of my unworthiness. I was in the middle of a read aloud with the kids, and right there in the text of the book, the main character reminds the other two characters that "He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before Him." (Ephesians 1:4) And it gets better. "In love, he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of His will." (v.5-6)

And it was rhema. It was like a warm blanket on my cold heart. It was just the thing I needed to hear. And I wasn't even looking for it. God just took matters in hand and brought His word to me from an unlikely source. There is something wonderful and warming about being reminded that God's choice of me was a choice of long ago.

Long before my birth...

Before my sin...

Before my failures...

Before my worries and my self-centeredness and my busy-ness.

Before the foundation of the world.

I daresay if I could really get a hold of that reality, I would never take my focus off of God.
I would always be all about His glory. But I am back again to the fact that everything that is accomplished in my life is the work of God.

Not mine.

Not one bit.

This evening, I heard "Jesus, Keep My Heart Alive" by Sanctus Real. It was another reminder that keeping my heart warm and alive is a work of the Holy Spirit. And even when I'm not holding on to Him, He is keeping my heart alive.

I'm so tired of politics and all this bad news.

I'm so tired of chasing the moment, instead of chasing You.

I let the world wear me down; I'm desensitized.

Jesus, keep my heart alive. Keep my heart alive.

Only You can save me from a world that's breaking right before my eyes.

Take these empty 'hallelujahs' and fill my lungs again.

Cause I want to sing, and I want to mean it. I want to feel again

And let the world hear the sound of something divine.

Jesus, keep my heart alive. Keep my heart alive.

Only you can save me when my hope is fading, and I'm losing this fight.

Keep my heart alive.

Raising Tulips

"Can we all agree that we are saved and going to Heaven even if we disagree with how we got here?" my 15-year-old asked.

"Yes," her friends agreed.

"Then debate over," Eliza responded.

One of the most wonderful benefits of my children being involved in speech and debate is the social circle they have found themselves in. These young people, besides being budding communicators, are thinkers. And I love thinkers, especially Berean thinkers like them. It is refreshing to find that there is an up and coming generation of young people who are interested in making their faith their own.

So, two tournaments ago, Eliza found herself in a weekend long debate regarding Calvinism vs. Arminianism. When her friends wanted to debate the issue, Eliza declined to take the bait with the above response.

Smart girl, that Eliza. For to reduce this issue to an academic debate is to run the risk of stirring up contention, to risk offense, to impact healthy friendships. We love our Arminian friends, and as long as they are sola Scriptura, we can walk together with them. Theology as an academic debate might be fun; then again, it might not. And Eliza was probably right to walk away from it at that time.

Why then did I blog about Miracle Max?

...Because when I was growing up, I served a small god. He could save me, but only with my help--and He couldn't guarantee keeping me (a thought that terrorized me into my 30's).

...Because this is a conversation we have in our home, and we are NOT having this conversation to have an academic debate. We are after our children's hearts.

...Because I don't ever want my children to think they serve a small god.

...Because in our house, we are in relentless pursuit of Truth and Truth's God.

So, in our house, we teach the five points of Calvinism because our search for Truth compels us to go where Biblical reason and evidence lead us--regardless of how it makes us feel. And the evidence leads us right to "TULIP."

T: total depravity

U: unconditional elect

L: limited atonement

I: irresistible grace

P: perseverance of the saints

To admit that the effort is completely God's is to make me small and God big. A big God doesn't need my help; a small god does. A big God is sovereign; a small god is limited. A big God can save me and keep me; a small god can save me and lose me. A big God has an efficacious, irresistible grace; a small god has a small, insufficient grace.

And THAT is why I broach the topic here. For it is not merely an academic pursuit for parents to teach their children that they serve a truly omnipotent God. It is a Biblical pursuit.The God of the Bible is a BIG God, and my children must have a BIG theology.

When life gets hard, they know God is BIG.

When they have tough questions, they know God is BIG.

When they feel defeated by their sin, they know God is BIG.

When they are cast down by suffering, they know God is BIG.

When they stare evil in the face, they know God is BIG.

So, in our house, we are raising tulips.

And I couldn't be more pleased...

because life is far too big for a small god.

The Flawed Theology of Miracle Max

Inigo Montoya: "He's dead. He can't talk."

Miracle Max: "Ooo, look who knows so much? It so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead...Now mostly dead is slightly alive. All dead, well with all dead, there's usually only one thing you can do."

Inigo Montoya: "What's that?"

Miracle Max: "Go through his clothes and look for loose change."

In this famous scene from The Princess Bride, we've got two basic belief systems pitted against one another in one hilarious sketch. While Inigo believes that dead men can't do anything--not even speak--Miracle Max believes that there is a state between life and death...mostly dead, he calls it, or slightly alive. Of course, the audience recognizes ridiculum when we see it. And we know that it is only biologically possible to be one or the other: alive or dead.

And it is precisely this fantastic assertion of Miracle Max that makes the scene so funny. Nevertheless, many of us seem far too willing to apply this same ridiculum to real life.

Consider what God says about being dead.

"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked." (Ephesians 2:1-2)

"And you who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our trespasses..." (Colossians 2:13)

Now, consider how some Christians process that.

"Yes, I know that the Bible says we are dead in our sins. But I also know that it is my choice to respond or not to God's free gift of grace."

So you believe you are only mostly dead in your sins? But you are slightly alive enough to respond to the stimulus of grace?

So, when Miracle Max says it, it's ridiculous. But when you say it, it's suddenly theologically sound?

No. Dead is all dead. Or you are alive. There is no in-between state.

Newspaper columnist and pro-abortion feminist Anna Quindlen once defended her stance on abortion with a statement that went something like this: "There are some of us who believe that you can be a little bit alive." Of course, all of us who are pro-life immediately see the preposterousness of such logic. For if you are slightly alive, you are alive period. And that is what makes abortion and embryonic stem-cell research murder. If we believed with Quindlen that you can be slightly alive, then we'd all agree that abortion is no big deal.

Miracle Max's logic is ridiculous, and Quindlen's logic is not only lacking, but offensive. Nevertheless, while we can be acutely logical regarding abortion, many of us fail to apply the same logic to salvation.

Evolutionists deny the existence of God despite the evidence of intelligent design and a fundamental order in all of creation. They remain stubbornly in favor of evolution because to accept creationism is to accept a Creator. And, of course, that can't be true. So the evidence must be faulty. Uh...yeah...

But how the evidence makes us feel has nothing to do with its veracity. We all know that's bad science.

Likewise, those who oppose God's sovereignty in ALL things oppose it despite the evidence. For, if we believe that 'dead' really means 'dead', that means we have no ability to respond. And if we have no ability to respond, that means God has to make us alive first. And if God has to make us alive first, that means we are totally dependent on God for our salvation. And if the road to eternal life is narrow, that means He makes few alive. And we know that can't be true. Therefore, 'dead' must really mean...alive.

Yeah. That makes perfect sense...

For you and Miracle Max and Anna Quindlen, anyway.

Again, how the evidence makes us feel has nothing to do with its veracity. We all know that's bad theology.

"But...but... but I believe in the sovereignty of God," you say.

BUT...

God's sovereignty, like life or death, has no in-between state. He is not sovereign in some things and not in others. Bible teacher Derek Prince once said of the sovereignty of God: "It means God can do what He wants, when He wants, to whom He wants, and He asks no one's permission." And long before that, theologian Abraham Kuyper said, "There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, 'Mine!'"

The nature of sovereignty in general and God's sovereignty in particular means you either must accept His sovereignty in ALL things...

...or deny He has sovereignty in ANYTHING.

But

that's

not

fair.

Correct. It is not fair that I, whose heart is desperately wicked and whose righteousness is filthy rags, can live with a Holy God for all eternity. It is not fair at all. And that humbles me because it puts God's love in the right perspective. For it is the sheer magnitude of God's wrath towards sin and the sheer magnitude of God's sovereignty in all things that demonstrates the sheer magnitude of His great love towards us, the objects of His mercy.

It comes down to this. If you show me a dead man who can do one single thing in his own power, I will show you a man who cannot possibly be dead.

Miracle Max is seriously mistaken; I'm with Inigo Montoya.

"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."