Living By The Spirit

Trying to enjoy as many of these sunsets as possible before it gets cold (and by cold I mean below 70 degrees). I don't know what sunsets have to do with living by the Spirit, but look at that sky!

This semester, I would like to grow in living by the Spirit. 

Which, for me at least, is one of those facets of Christianity that has been more about word than deed. 

And I don't mean my speech is perfectly spirit-filled, so now I just need to focus on my actions. No, that's definitely not what I mean. Maybe I'll get there when I'm eighty or never. 

I mean I talk about living by the Spirit, or being "out of the Spirit" a lot, but actually don't have a great tangible hold on what this looks like in day-to-day life. 

Like when my two year old starts rough housing and kicks me right in the chest while I'm putting him to bed, 

or when Kyle is cranky because he hasn't eaten in 12 hours and I'm like, "All we have are cheese sticks and peanut butter crackers because I subsist on toddler food while you're at work," and then we get in a low-blood sugar fight, 

or, in ministry, when I see people heading for a brick wall and because there's this pesky thing called "free will" I can't stop them, and they won't listen to me (since, duh, I'm always right). 

I've definitely experienced living by the Spirit before. When life feels a little bit like fingernails scraping across a chalkboard, and I'm unnaturally (supernaturally?) at peace, rested, able to love those around me in a way that is beyond my own ability. I have compassion for people, I have grace, I notice people, instead of brushing humanity under the rug of my own life and agenda. 

Those are the moments I think, "THIS. This is what Paul goes on about." 

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 

But for the most part these moments are few and far between. I want to develop the discipline of living by the Spirit. I wish it was like plugging into an outlet or flipping some secret "Spirit-filled" switch, but it's not. I think it's like working out, which, you know, I'm so good at. 

To be fair, Paul did try to warn us, right? All that talk about, "running a race," wasn't for nothing. 

To cease living in my own strength and begin to live by the power of the Spirit is a discipline. One that, as I take steps further into marriage, motherhood, and ministry I realize I cannot do without. 

Could Kyle and I have a decent marriage in our own strength? Sure, maybe. I don't know because I really don't want to try. I do know that I hope to understand my husband to a degree that requires us to love each other by the Spirit. To build our marriage into a place where both of us feel safe will require a level of forgiveness, and trust, and hope that I believe must be born and fed by the Spirit. I have felt what it is to be loved by the Spirit of God, and it is sweeter than anything or anyone. I think the Spirit can teach me to love Kyle better than any other person could. 

Could I be a good mom in my own strength? Sure, maybe. But I also know my tendencies. My bent toward perfection, my drive for achievement and self-glory. How unnatural it is for me to stop in the middle of a busy work day and hug my children. I desperately want my children to feel loved because they are here. Because they exist. Not because of anything they did or did not do. The one place I have felt this in my own life is in the presence of the Holy Spirit. I think the Spirit can teach me to be a better mother than any other person could.  

Could I do ministry in my own strength? Sure, maybe... for awhile. To be honest, I don't know if I will make it unless I learn how to access the infinite, available, in-Him-all-things-are-possible power of the great I Am. I can't tell you this for sure, but I believe laying among the ashes of many a burnt-out ministry is the tendency to try and be the hands and feet of Christ without the power of Christ. I know the Spirit can teach me how to be a better minister of His Gospel than any other person could... It is His, after all. 

In the end, it's just not worth the risk to try this life on my own. Even at the ripe, young age of 27 I see the collateral damage of a Spirit-less life. It is not something of which I want any part. 

So these are my verses for the semester, may my life become a reflection of them. 

"But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things! Those who belong to Christ Jesus have nailed the passions and desires of their sinful nature to his cross and crucified them there. Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit's leading in every part of our lives." - Gal 5. 22-25 NLT

Offices & Hopes

I moved out of my office last week.

It was well past time. My desk sat neglected for fourteen months and our growing church staff is already elbow to elbow in a space that was tight to begin with.

This was the closest thing to a surreal moment that I've had in a long time. I'm not sure if moms of little ones have surreal moments because life feels the exact same way as when you catch yourself having conversations about tile grout.

Try being surreal about tile grout. Exactly.

Anyway, I was having an almost-surreal moment because I never expected to clean out my office because stay at home moms don't often need one, and not have the experience send me into a spiral of hot tears and sadness.

That may sound very dramatic, but I've always been pretty driven to have a career outside the home, so when I cleared out my office and my world didn't end and my self-worth didn't plummet, no one was more surprised then me.

It was, actually, one of those, "Hey! Look who's becoming emotionally stable and getting a healthy sense of identity!" moments. Because reconciling my desire to accomplish things outside the home with my role as a mother has been um, difficult.

It's a messy process.

The first step was seeing other stay at home moms who accomplish so much outside the home and realizing they have time to [write a book/get their masters/start a business] because they spend their precious free time not on facebook. And sometimes, their laundry baskets overflow and they don't sleep much and their families eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at least once a day.

The second (and much, much harder) step is one I have only just begun to take, and that is laying my desires at the feet of Jesus and being willing to give them up. It's a scary thing to lay at God's feet: my deepest hopes. I know God is good, but that doesn't mean He won't tell me no.

And yet, a friend said just yesterday that the grace to do the impossible things exists where God wants us. I want to be where He wants me because life is full of impossible things, and I'd rather not try and attempt them without Him.

Because there's a difference between my deepest hopes and my Only Hope, even though I too often confuse the two.

Hands & Feet

Z has played in the dirt a lot this summer.

Since we are without a bathtub until we return home, this has translated into sponge-bathing a wiggly just-turned-toddler. 

Last night, locked in my lap, Z rested his head against my chest while I began cleaning off a day of hard playing with a damp cloth. I got to his feet, streaked brown and toenails full of Colorado dirt, and began to wash them. 

Then the Spirit moved and another conflicted piece of this momma's heart clicked into place. I could see, a little more, how motherhood & ministry can flow from the same place and what a shame it would be to not understand that.

Jesus bent and washed the feet of the men who had walked beside Him for three years and last night I bent and washed the feet of a little man who has yet to claim three years of life.

And the similarity whipped through me like a mountain-wind and I felt the Holy Spirit say, "You do this in My place."

I am no Jesus, but I am a picture of Him to my son. And the thought that Christ would stoop to wash my one-year-old's feet just breaks me, because you know, I really think He would.

And I don't think that Jesus would care that my son couldn't thank Him yet, or that no one would notice how sacrificial He was being, or that there wasn't a parade thrown in His honor for washing a dirty toddler's feet.

I think His eyes would be bright and He would make Z laugh and He would find joy in showing my son just how much He is loved by the Creator of the universe. So that one day, when Z is old enough, he would turn to Him and say, "I am Yours."

That's when motherhood shakes loose from the trappings of the world and it becomes something sacred. It becomes the business I must be about: being the hands and feet of Jesus to my child and any others that come.

And this fire that was lit thirteen months ago when my Z came small and vulnerable into this world grows a little brighter and burns a little hotter, and Christ graciously refines my glory-hungry heart.

I look down at Z's feet, clean and ready to be slipped into pajamas, and I am so grateful.

Thanksgiving, Day Three

Sleep

I love sleep. 

I don't anymore. Sleep, I mean. Well, not the way I used to. 

If you want to test your character, take away guaranteed uninterrupted sleep. Notice I didn't say take away uninterrupted sleep, because of course parents (even if it is every once in awhile) get uninterrupted sleep. It's the fact that it is no longer a guarantee. 

Z could not stir until 7.00, or he might wake up at 2.30, or 4.00, or 5.45 ... or all three.  

That can really mess a person up. 

Sometimes, I fantasize about what it's like to have the ability sleep in. Especially the first time I became kind of sick after having Z, that's when it really hit me. 

I can't even sleep on a sick day. 

To be honest, it has been kind of nice getting up early and being productive. On the reals, that's not even a silver-lining attempt at being okay with waking up with the sun every morning. I truly enjoy getting up and getting things done. 

Every once in awhile though, I'd love to be able to sleep till eleven if I wanted. This may sound laughable, but I never realized how entitled I was about my sleep before having Z. 

Like, the first few weeks I walked around all surly (and sleep deprived), and would snap at my husband and say things like, "I don't want to talk to people who get to sleep for eight hours in a row!" 

*sigh*

It was a right, now it's a privilege. 

One that I am fortunate to experience pretty often, because Z is (so far) a pretty decent sleeper. 

And I am so thankful. 

Motherhood, Mission Fields, & A Book Review

Last Mother's Day, a link to this blog post about motherhood landed in my inbox.

After reading it, I wanted to go climb Mount Everest or run twenty miles, but instead I sat on my couch and wept because I was eight months pregnant. 

It was the first time someone had described motherhood in such a way that left my heart feeling lighter and unburdened. I love my son to the moon and back, but I (frankly) was scared at the thought of children and always felt like I'd have to give up doing what I loved in order to have them. So, when I found out the same women wrote a book about motherhood I couldn't wait to get my hands on it.

(I promise I'll get to the book review part in a second minute...)

Now, after actually having a baby, my views have somewhat altered.

I wonder if I have misunderstood the phrase, "motherhood is your calling." 

I have a hunch it all boils down to semantics, but in our culture the word "calling" seems to have become synonymous with, "the reason you exist." I have to remind myself that it simply untrue. Jesus is the reason I'm here - to glorify Him. My calling is merely the business He gave me to do while I'm on this earth. 

Also, there's this belief floating around inside of me that our "callings" usually tend to be things we feel most alive doing. So.... what if what I feel most alive doing isn't being a mother?

This may be a narrow audience, but these thoughts are mostly spoken on behalf of the group of women who feel like God has stirred them to pour their life into a mission field outside of motherhood, but who still want children and are scared that they will have to sacrifice one for the other.

Maybe they feel (as I did) scared (and are even dealing with resentment?) about having to completely give up a God-given passion, and simultaneously guilty and sad about the thought of purposefully not having children.

Here is what I know:

I love my son, and cannot believe God chose me to be his mother. Sometimes I think being a parent is about realizing how undeserving I am of such a gift ... and Z can't even have a conversation with me yet! 

However, God did call me to do something apart from, but not better or more important than, motherhood.

I don't think motherhood is as clean and cut as we'd all like it to be. Whether defining it as the primary and most important role a woman can have OR seeing it as a burden that will keep you from accomplishing life goals. 

Please, please... thoughts on motherhood? Whether you're not a mom yet and are wading through some similar feelings, maybe? Or a seasoned veteran?

Rachel blogs at Femina. 

And finally, I just finished Rachel Jankovic's, Loving the Little Years, and really enjoyed her thoughts on motherhood. She has several (read: SEVERAL) tiny people. I can't say that I agreed with everything in the book, but I appreciated it because her thoughts came from someone right in the thick of it.

Pros: 

Short chapters. The longest one may have been five to six pages, some were as short as two. This is very conducive to actually reading while raising children.

She focuses on the heart. One of my favorite thoughts was realizing that when it feels like the kids need a spanking, chances are you're the one that needs the spanking. She has such a grace-filled approach to parenting.

She offers practical examples. Sometimes when books are all theory it can be disheartening. She does a great job of offering a few real-life stories that show how some of she and her husband's parenting practices play out.

Cons: 

Very Direct. I'm a big fan of tentative statements and there didn't seem to be a ton in there; however, when you have a ton of small children running around I imagine there isn't a lot of time to condition every thought you have.

If you know of any other books on motherhood, please recommend! :)

Happy Tuesday.