Baptism, Courage, and Obedience

Life is all about choices. And Grant, my 7 year old, is determined once he's made one. It was an atypical Sunday; Steve and I were filling in as MC's for our church service. As a result, our kids went to their Kids' Life class for the first service, and stayed in with the adults for the second. Apparently, an announcement we made piqued Grant's interest. We gave a heads' up to the upcoming baptism service. After we finished, we headed out to lunch. Grant couldn't contain his excitement any longer. "I want to be baptized!!! Can I?" I thought for a moment, and looked at Steve, and as we considered his age, and what he knew about God, we took some time to explain what baptism was. It is an outward symbol of an inward change. He was on board 110%, and last Sunday, he took the plunge.

If I turned the clock back 26 years, I would see myself in the same and yet completely different place Grant was. My parents has recently split up, and I was joining a new church in a new denomination. In my heart, I desperately wanted to be part of this new church family, and identify myself as a follower of Christ. I hated getting my hair wet, and hated being underwater, but I was willing to look past all that to take this step of obedience. Most of my family was baptized that day; it symbolized a fresh start as a family, and a new commitment to Christ.

Grant was quieter than usual the morning he was baptized, but I could tell he had adrenaline in his veins by the confident smirk he donned. I love that smirk. It's the one he gives when he is excited about something but doesn't want to overtly show it. My husband got him changed into his swim trunks and rash guard, and the whole service, he was like a Christmas tree before its first lighting. Finally, the moment came. He carefully climbed the stairs, and I saw relief rush into his face when he sensed the water was warm. My pastors guided him into the right spot in the tank, and whispered words of reassurance to my son. Then Pastor Joe lowered my son into the tank, and pulled him out. Cheers erupted in the Gathering. The first thing he said afterward was, "I am soaked!" After the laughter had died down at his honesty, Pastor Abi declared, "He said he's soaked! Covered in Jesus' love, right?" How right she is.

The first thing that hit the water wasn't my feet that day; it was Grant's feet. Because those little feet have their own journey to take with God. A journey that will look different than mine to places I'll never go. They'll brave steep, sharp, painful places I'll never experience; and will dance dances that I'll never dance. They will rush to meet needs I'll never meet, and as they grow, will carry him farther than I'll ever see. Seeing him make the choice to be baptized, and walk in obedience was a big reminder that God has no grandchildren. Only children. There will be parts of Grant's story that will make me cringe, break my heart, and want to soak my pillow with tears. There will be moments in his life that I'll want to photoshop, delete, and expunge, and yet I won't be able to. I don't have the authority. And even the One who does, although He'll forgive Grant's sins and bring him restoration, refuses to erase the ugly altogether. Why? Because the things that Grant goes through can and will be used for God's glory, so why should they be edited out? There will be a more clear picture of grace that will come from God shining through his cracks and fissures than could come from him leading a glossy life with no mistakes. And friend, the same is true of us.

I remember talking to Pastor Abi about Grant's milestone afterward, and she remarked, "Did you notice that he didn't even plug his nose before he went under?" My eyes widened; I hadn't noticed. I flashed back to my face before I went under the water in baptism. Eyes clenched, jaw clenched, the terrifying sound and sensation of water rushing in my ears, and not only was my nose plugged, the Pastor was plugging my nose as well. That 8 year old girl was steeped in fear in more ways than one. And yet here was my son; fearless. Bold. Unwavering. Not once did he tell me or show me that he was afraid. My prayer is that for the rest of his life, he would live "unplugged". That his whole being would be submerged in the love of Christ without any fear lurking. That he would walk in obedience to God without apology or shame. For that is the life he was meant for; that is the trajectory most conducive for world changing. I'm convinced that he will teach me more as my brother in Christ than I will teach him as his Mom. As I kissed his forehead and tousled his damp hair afterward, I realized that I was in the presence of a warrior. The same King of Kings that Grant's allegiance is pledged to will be the same King of Kings that will steady this Mama's heart when that allegiance is lived out. 

May we lose ourselves in trusting God with our most rich and priceless inheritance; the next generation. May fear fall by the wayside when we realize that the choice is ultimately theirs. And may we lean into Christ more and more every day, giving our kids an imperfectly perfect picture of what to shoot for; because most likely, they will go far beyond that. 

It's my great honor and privilege to be able to introduce my beautiful friend, kindred spirit, and wonderful wordsmith Osheta Moore to you. She is a Pastor's wife, Mom, blogger, Children's pastor, and recently moved to Los Angeles from Boston. Her children, TJ and Trinity were baptized the same month as Grant, and she has written about her children's brave and beautiful journey HERE. I have no doubt you'll enjoy her refreshing take on life as much as I do! Make sure you subscribe to her blog, Shalom in the City for more nourishing soul encouragement.

Breathing In Hope

 Breathless. When I think of that word, I think of the time my sister, at 10 years old, slipped on a puddle in the bathroom and fell onto the side of the tub. The wind was knocked out of her so forcefully that she passed out. Or I remember the time my son broke his fall on his arm and his diaphragm. His first complaint was not the arm that was then broken, but that he got the wind knocked out of him. I think of this past Christmas, when the burning frankincense I had smelled gave me a reaction that almost sent me to the hospital- breathless.

Most of the time, we don't think about breathing. It comes naturally; the casual rise and fall of our chests goes completely unnoticed. There is too much life happening all around us to think about it. But every once in a while, life knocks the wind out of us- and breathing, or lack of it, is the only thing we think about. The only thing that's important. The only thing that matters. Being made breathless can happen physically, but it's not limited to that. It can happen in a moment. Like the moment you get shocking news, the moment you discover drugs in your child's room, or the moment you realize your marriage is in trouble. It can happen in the moment your doctor tells you the diagnosis, the moment in the office when they let you go, or the moment your car is slammed by another. Have you ever experienced that sudden jolt that jerks everything important into alignment? Suddenly, all the important things in life come floating to the surface, while all the unimportant things settle out of sight. 

Usually when life knocks the wind out of me, a fear blizzard forms, and the "what-ifs" come flying at my face like a gust full of snowflakes. And I see my husband, my kids, and my relationship with God with stunning clarity. The thoughts brought to mind aren't the material possessions I want, the comparisons I make, or the arguments I had that day with the kids. The thoughts brought to my mind are, "Did I love enough in life?" "God, are You still in control?" "Will my worst case scenario come true?" "Why did I spend so much time on the things that didn't matter?" The gifts that breathlessness brings are crystal clarity, properly held priorities, and this all important question: What am I breathing in?

I saw a movie last night where there was a crisis on a plane, and the passengers were energetic with panic. There were screaming women, frantic men, and pandemonium in the cabin. The captain, desperate to calm down his passengers, pressed the button to release the oxygen masks from the ceiling. The passengers were instructed to sit down and place the masks on their faces. They obeyed, and all got to task on breathing in and out. There was oxygen already in that cabin, because the frightened passengers were obviously very much alive. But the captain knew that they needed concentrated doses of oxygen to nourish their taxed lungs and hearts. He knew that getting them to sit and breathe would give them something to do other than panic. He knew that as they breathed in and out intentionally, that in time, their pulse would slow down and their lungs would relax.

If life has dealt you a blow in the stomach, and you're gasping for air, you're not alone. I've been there, as frightened as those passengers on the plane. Screaming, crying, and desperate for relief.  What are we going to breathe in? Will we heave and gasp fear, panic, and despair? Will we choke and sputter chaos, discouragement, and hopelessness? Or will we listen to the voice of our Captain to sit down, place the mask of faith on our faces, and breathe in concentrated doses of hope? The air in your lungs won't change your circumstance. The hope you breathe in will still allow for tears to make their way down your face. What you breathe in through the mask of faith is the hope that will keep you anchored when the wind and the waves threaten to tear your life apart. 

"Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls." Hebrews 6: 18b-19a

I'm not promised that difficulties will go away. I'm not promised things will be easy. I'm not promised that life will go back to normal. I'm promised something even greater than that. 

I'm promised that the hope I breathe in through faith in Christ will be my anchor when the wind knocks the air out of my sails. 

Hope in what? Hope that God is faithful. Hope that He can redeem anything. Hope that He is in control when I feel out of control. Hope that when the pressure in my cabin changes, that the God of grace will drop my faith mask for me to use just in the nick of time. And He will for you too- as long as you draw breath, and beyond. You are anchored. You are loved. God has made a way for you to breathe again.

Fear Fires

 Since I was a little girl, one of the most common things I experienced was fear. Fear of the dark, fear of being alone, fear of punishment. It still creeps up more than I care to admit; fear of bad stuff happening to my kids, fear of the unknown, fear of change. Fear has a way of shaping our thoughts, altering our decision making, and eclipsing our faith. As much as I hate to admit it, fear has played a role in the times that I should have spoken up about something but didn't. I've let fear damage my relationships to the point where I've lost friendships. I've even let fear hijack my mouth when parenting my kids. It's like a fire that can cause great damage, and spreads quickly. How many times has a teensy fear spread like wildfire until I'm completely paralyzed? Too many to count. And sometimes, the damage is so great that I don't know how God could rebuild. Thankfully, His ability to rebuild triumphs over any destruction caused by those fearful fires. What do we do when we see a fear fire pop up? Do we try to stop it, or do we allow it to etch a devastating path in our minds, dreams, and relationships? 

One of the first fire safety tips I learned taught me what to do if my clothes ever caught on fire. Do you remember learning "Stop, Drop and Roll?" Thankfully, I've never had my clothes catch on fire, but maybe this tip can be repurposed into what we can do when we're afraid.

STOP.

The tendency I have is to let fear run its course until the "fire" is so big that it's nearly impossible to put out. I'll use a real life fear that I have to show you how it happens inside my head. If I am snippy with the kids, it looks like this:

Snippy with the kids ---> emotional wounds are caused ---> they'll never forgive me ---> they'll grow up deficient in love ---> they'll have unhealthy relationships ---> they'll end up in counseling ---> or jail ---> or worse

Sad, isn't it? Now although those things could potentially happen (I did carry them to extremes), I'm letting things that haven't even happened steal my joy as if they were really happening. It's true that me being snippy could hurt the kids, but if I focus on the fear, I can't have vision for how to course correct in the here and now. So when fear fires start, the best thing to do is stop.

Stop the fear in its tracks by refusing a chain of fears to be perpetuated. Stop, and capture the thought.

We take hold of every thought and make it obey Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5

To every fear that lights up, yell "Freeze! Halt! Stop in the name of the law!" Is that fear something that would come from the heart of the One who wants to give you peace, joy, and wholeness? No. And in the case of my example fear, the solution can be as simple as me humbly apologizing. Then God can do something amazing like turn my Mom fail into a lesson for the kids to know what to do when they hurt someone, and show them that He is there to heal their hearts. He's good like that.

DROP. 

This is the opposite of the fight or flight response. Sometimes fear makes me fight; fight with the joy and peace that are trying to rule my heart. Sometimes fear makes me run; run from opportunities. But what I should do is drop; drop to my knees and give my fear to God. After all, He's the one whose shoulders are big enough to carry everything that's weighing me down. Prayer is like a fire hose that shoots water on hungry flames. Because the focus shifts from "how am I going to get through this fear?" to "God, You are big enough to handle this fear." 

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Philippians 4:6

When fear rears up its fiery head, drop to your knees (or drop what you're doing or thinking) and pray. Let worry be the fire alarm that a fear is blazing, and let prayer be the immediate action you take. This fear may be bigger than your scope of knowledge, but it's not bigger than God's. And in faith, thank Him for taking care of the matter, and taking care of you.

ROLL.

Rolling smothers out the flames by depriving them of oxygen; without oxygen, a fire goes out. Rolling around in God's goodness deprives fear of the power that it has to overshadow every good thing we have been given. It's hard to focus on ourselves when we are getting swallowed up into the goodness of God. 

The Lord is my light and my salvation—  so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble? Psalm 27:1

With the focusing of our minds on the power and majesty of God, the tables are turned. We no longer are cowering at the unchecked inferno of our fears, we are bowing at the greatness of God. Suddenly the power that fear once had is extinguished, and it is no more. If God is for us, who (or what) can be against us? There are shadows of the unknown, but God is light. There are hidden dangers, but God is our way, truth, and life. 

Stop. Drop. Roll. And give fear a reason to turn tail and run.