Hands full, hearts open.

Can I be honest for a minute? Sometimes, I get really tired of hearing cliche comments about the size of my family. 

I have to admit that I have struggled with offense in the past due to the ignorant comments I (and my children) hear about the number of kids I have. Especially because almost always, these remarks are stated right in front of my children as if they either can't hear, can't understand, or their feelings don't matter. Mama bear comes out, and sometimes she isn't so politically correct. Sometimes I imagine what might happen if I responded in the same way that they ask. 

"Why yes, we do have a TV... But if you're trying to tell me that your TV is more exciting than your sex life, I'd say you're not doing it right. Maybe you should talk about that with your therapist or a marriage counselor rather than a stranger at Sam's club, though. :)"

"No, they aren't all mine - they tell me they just follow me around because their real parents don't like children. Say - Is one of them yours?"

"Yes, I believe each one of them was planned. Why? Which one did you presume was the mistake?"

And one that I read on a blog recently that made me laugh out loud... 

(Exclaim loudly) DING DING DING! Congratulations!  As the ten billionth person to make this clever remark, you are a winner!  As your prize, please accept this delicious baby.

Yes, these are laughable comebacks, and I've finally come to a place where I can just smile and laugh it off when I hear things like this. (And with 4 children, we hear this a whole lot more often than you might believe). But honestly, not long ago it was very difficult not to feel angry or offended by such ignorant remarks - often from perfect strangers. I'd feel more like throwing down or throwing up on the person that says it rather than laughing. One time when a man asked if I knew there was "something I can take to prevent that" i responded by asking him to look at my children and let me know which one he suggests that I should have prevented, and to please clarify if he was implying that my children are some kind of a disease we should be immunizing ourselves against. Of course he was quite speechless and apologetic, and ran off with his tail between his legs. It felt good at the moment, and I was glad my children knew I would stand up for them. Maybe I did protect them, but I also displayed a whole lot of ugly pride and not a lot of grace for that man, which I later had to apologize to my kids for. After all, he is a product of our culture. Our supposedly very "tolerant", "progressive", "politically correct" culture that embraces everything as long as it has nothing to do with laying down your own life for another. 4 kids? On purpose? If it happens to a mom by accident, that's one thing. Then she's a hero and a martyr. 2 is socially acceptable. If they've got 2 of the same gender and they try for one more to try to get that girl or boy they don't have, that's acceptable. If there's an "oops", she's pitied and patted on the head. But if they plan it? Now that's just crazy. 

Everywhere I go with my children,  I always get SOME comment or another. Not always snarky - in fact, we are now known at Sam's club, where several of the sales assoiates know me as the Mama with all the helpers. They started saying it in a patronizing tone, but now they say it in sincerity. I really do have some wonderful helpers, and I really do enjoy them. Most of the time, wherever we end up going, I'm sure to hear "you sure have your hands full!" - I just smile now, and answer "Yes, full of good things! " :) Whether they mean it negatively or not, I know that "full" is a positive term. The alternative is 'empty', and I am thankful that my hands are not empty.

The Bible says that children are a blessing. I do not think that means everyone must have 20 children, but I believe whether you have 1 or 4 or 12 or 20 they are each incredible, amazing, unique and priceless gifts. They are human beings, and I have the incredibly scary and yet absolutely awesome opportunity to help them on their journey to adulthood as individual men and women who have the potential to make an impact in this ignorant, sad and lonely world - by giving them love and showing them that they are not only accepted, but truly wanted. 

When I drop my pride and keep that in mind, being reminded that  we have lots of them can actually keep me thankful rather than annoyed or offended. We are not living our lives for the blind people at the grocery store who call evil good and good evil. Ultimately they will get things backward and that is to be expected. Thank God we are His, our children are His, and He has entrusted them to us! I just have to remind myself that it doesn't matter if a blind person mistakes my precious gems for heavy rocks. I know their value and THEY know that I know it, and that's what matters! Just thought I would share my thoughts with anyone that might benefit from them, and to get the opportunity to say publicly that I am extremely thankful to our Lord (the creator of Heaven and Earth, and my savior Jesus Christ) for gifting us with the privilege of loving, raising and enjoying these 4 amazing individuals. 

God is good! :) 

In pursuit of (imperishable) beauty

First of all, to all my readers, thanks for your patience as I know it's been a very long time since I've last posted! I can't make too many apologies as I do feel that I've been pursuing my priorities first as we slowly restructure life as a family of 6, but now that we've got more of a routine going and things have settled in after the new year, I plan to make more time for writing again. Nothing too ambitious, but the goal is one post a week. I might have to work up to that... but that's the goal! Now, on to today's post about the pursuit of true beauty (can't seem to get away from this topic!).

A couple of weeks ago, I was out at our local license bureau on one of those VERY rare occasions where I happened to have absolutely no children with me. We all know how nightmare-ish the lineups in such places can be at 4:30pm when the office closes in an hour, and this was one of those times.

I waited in line for a good 35 minutes, and other than the lady at the counter, nobody spoke to me – I think that’s partly what makes those places so awkward for me… chairs packed full of people, long lineups, crowded spaces, and yet everyone acts as if there is no one else there and avoids eye contact and conversation all together. So strange! ANYWAY, after I was finished at the counter and had gathered up all my paperwork, I was in a hurry to get home to my baby (who I knew would be hungry by this point!) and the rest of my family, so I bee-lined it out the door and was almost in my car when I was frightened by a loud “Ma’am! Wait!” which came from a tall, out of breath and red faced guy who had apparently come running out the door of the license bureau after me and was now standing about 3 feet away from me. My husband is always nervous about me being alone in parking lots and such, and although I have often thought he was a little too overprotective, I’ve tried to be respectful of his wishes so I’d parked as close to the building as possible. Now as I stood here frozen and a little nervous of this man in front of me, I began to ask the Lord to forgive me for ever challenging him about my safety as I glanced around to make sure there were others in the lot. Thankfully there were, and they were looking our way just because of the spectacle that this guy had made of himself. The dude knew it too, and he looked pretty embarrassed. He proceeded to sputter out that he was sorry if he’d scared me and that he knew he must seem like a weirdo (bingo!) but that he saw me in line and thought I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He said he’d been waiting in another lineup and had decided to leave his place in line because he ‘had to know’ if I was single. By this point I was fairly certain that he was not a psycho, a lunatic or a murderer – he actually seemed quite normal, just a little unwise, to say the least. I flashed him my ring finger and told him that I was not only married, but that I have 4 children – at which point he looked really surprised and even more embarrassed than before. I hope I was polite when I told him I was sorry he lost his place in line and to have a good day.

As I drove home, I contemplated this pursuit of beauty that all men and women crave and strive for. After my years as a model and all that it entailed mentally, psychologically, spiritually and physically, this is a topic I have thought a lot about. Probably too much, in fact. It occurred to me that I am no longer really phased by ‘compliments’ that people give me about my appearance – at least not from strangers. That’s because beauty is such a relative, elusive thing. Though the media has become the expert as far as propaganda is concerned, no one can actually set the standard for what beauty looks like, because it is so constantly changing and because there are so many variables depending on the ‘eye of the beholder’. To this particular guy’s eyes, I was apparently beautiful. But I know enough about this kind of beauty to recognize that it is almost absolutely worthless – whether he knew it at that point in time where he decided to leave his place in line to pursue it, or not. As Solomon wisely said, it is all meaningless… like chasing after the wind. I know, because I chased it for a very long time. I still catch myself chasing it at times, to my shame… returning to the lie that somehow that is where my worth is found. Thank God that being outwardly beautiful is not my purpose in life, nor is it where my worth is found. At one time, it was. And what a cold, shallow and absolutely unsatisfying life that was… where nothing is ever enough, and contentment and joy are as far out of reach as the vague perception of my own identity. I shudder just thinking about it. Yet, now that the Lord has brought me out of that place and I am on this new (sometimes far more challenging) journey toward true purpose in Christ and seeking to honor HIM - not myself – with my life, I can often look at myself and feel quite inadequate. Spiritually, I know that I am certainly not the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever seen, and that is a fact. If only being truly beautiful were as easy as keeping up an outward front. Unfortunately, as I’m sure that naïve, red-faced young man will eventually find out, outward beauty is simply not enough to satisfy anyone – man or woman. And with any real relationship in life that requires you to give of yourself, it’s pretty much impossible to rely upon (or hide behind) that front forever - and that’s where we need God.

I pulled into our garage and walked up the stairs back to life as I know it once again. Do you think I walked in with an aura around me, with angels singing and lights beaming as my husband stared in awe at my physical beauty? Of course not! As I walked into the room, the baby was (of course) crying in my husband’s arms as he looked at me with a frazzled expression, passing him over like a hot potato with a sigh of relief. The kids greeted me cheerfully as they hugged my legs, and then went on with whatever it was that they were doing. My husband looked immediately relieved when the baby stopped crying in my arms. He asked how it went and we briefly chatted about my time at the bureau before he became occupied with his budgeting work that he’d been trying to work on before I got back. I sat down and fed the baby, who looked at me with furrowed eyebrows as if he was still quite mad at me for not being there to feed him as soon as he’d been ready. And as I looked around at everyone doing their own thing, I couldn’t help but smile.

Even in the last few months since our youngest was born, I have been faced with old (and yet seemingly ever-lurking) fears about purpose and self worth. I’ve battled with feelings of spiritual inadequacy that mask themselves through a fleshly desire to perfect and control my outward image, somehow blindly believing that it’s enough – or even that it is a legitimate or worthy goal that I can truly accomplish. I know it never will be. I’ve studied my ever-changing body shape once again as it morphs through the various stages of post-partum adjustment, and noticed the lines around my eyes which weren’t there a few years ago. I know that the Proverb is true – beauty is fleeting. That’s why the Bible instructs husbands to take delight in the wife of their youth, and to find beauty in her. If it were easy and if men continued to be blown away by their wives’ physical beauty just naturally every single day for the rest of their lives together, God wouldn’t have to tell them to do it. That’s because no matter how beautiful something is, it gets old after a while, and the charm will eventually dwindle. A Godly husband will continue to seek his wife’s beauty and will certainly take delight in it, just as the Lord intended – but her true beauty is not something external, and no amount of physical ‘perfection’ will ever be enough to keep his heart. Perhaps more importantly than that, it will never be enough to keep her own heart. In fact, focusing too much on the external is a good way to lose it.

The Bible says that charm is deceptive and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD will be praised. We are all in search of praise – especially from our loved ones. To be honest, at this stage in my life I couldn’t care less if the stranger at the license bureau thinks I’m beautiful or not, but I am constantly vying for my husband’s attention and praise when it comes to such things. If I do something special with my hair, or put on a nice outfit, I absolutely want him to notice. Come to think of it, if anyone else that I respect and care for (a family member, a friend, etc) compliments me on anything – from the way I’m raising my children, to my physical appearance or on something I’ve accomplished, baked, done with my house, etc etc, it definitely means something to me. Even if I don’t believe I’m seeking worldly attention from strangers, I know that I crave the praises of others to let me know I’m worth something, or that I’m doing a good job, or that I’m special to someone. The Bible says that a woman who fears the Lord will be praised. That means that if I lay myself down, along with all this garbage and idolatry that my flesh wants to cling to, and recognize Him as the Lord of my life – actually lifting Him up and proving it through the way that I live – then, and only then, I will have the only praise that I could ever truly deserve. It’s so much easier to set up meaningless goals and aspirations – to strive for worldly accomplishments or physical improvements that can rouse empty praises from other people. It’s easy to feed off of such praises and continue seeking after them – but the more we do that, the hungrier we will become. Such praises are temporary and can only build us up in a fleshly sense – they give us a false sense of accomplishment or security, threatening to crash down upon us at the slightest negative word - and do not build us up spiritually in the way that we so desperately need.

Since choosing the hard road, I am often both humbled and terrified by the true picture of beauty that I am trying to pursue daily. 1 Peter 3:3-4 states that true beauty is that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle (some translations say meek) and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. I’ve struggled with this verse over the years for many reasons. Originally, I mistakenly assumed it to be describing a woman’s personality – thinking that the only women who were truly inwardly beautiful were those who had a more reserved & quiet nature. If that were the case, I’d be in deep trouble. But that’s not what He is describing. After studying scripture, it’s clear to me that the nature of Christ is very much like the spirit described by Peter. Christ Himself had a meek, gentle and quiet spirit. (1 Corinthians 10:1)

Is that to say he was not social, fun loving, confident, strong willed and filled with authority? Of course not. In fact, going through the gospels we see a clear portrait of Jesus being all of these things and more. He was love in the flesh – a man who spoke with authority, commanded the attention of thousands through the way he spoke, laughed and ate and rested with his friends, and led the people like a shepherd leads his sheep. He was, and He remains the King of Kings – he had no fear of man, he was not a weakling, nor was he shy. He did not shrink back from difficult situations, nor was he afraid to speak up when he had something important to say. Gosh – when all the merchants came to exploit their goods in the Holy temple, he even made a whip out of righteous anger, turned over tables, scattered money to the ground and drove everyone out of the building for dishonoring His father’s house! And yet, He was humble – he put others first. He washed His disciples’ feet. He quieted himself before the Lord, listened, and obeyed His father’s authority. He had a quiet spirit that looked to God first and not his own fleshly interests. He was wise, with controlled strength, and he was extremely purposeful in all he said and did. The Bible says that the fruit of His spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. All these things can be found in a gentle/meek and quiet spirit.

 I find it interesting that in Matthew 11, Jesus speaks to us about authority and submission through His spirit – explaining that He has been given the authority to do all things through His father the Lord, and yet how he is in perfect communion with Him, doing nothing outside of His father’s will because he listens for His father’s voice. Then in verses 28-30 He says this: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
 So having a meek and quiet spirit is all about willingly giving up control, letting Him be the source of my strength and the leader of my steps, and finding rest in submission to God. it sounds so easy, and He claims that it is! Yet I find myself failing miserably so many times when it comes to that first step of just letting go and giving Him control. Quieting my spirit and looking to Him rather than leaning on my own puffed up understanding and prideful, human strength. Although I was glad to discover that putting on a quiet spirit does not mean doing away with my entire personality, I will freely admit that the more I learn about what it means to have the imperishable beauty of a meek and quiet spirit, the more I want to hide behind the very perishable false beauty of my outward adornment. That’s because I know that hidden deep down in my heart, I can be so very ugly in comparison to the true beauty that is supposed to define me, and it feels so much safer to cling to what I can see and control and maintain in my own strength – the adornment of my own flesh. The shell that will fade so quickly, no matter how hard I may try to maintain it. It's so foolish and so futile to rely on such things. I'm not only talking about our looks, but about anything physical that we falsely identify with our own self worth. Brains, beauty, strength, accomplishments, talents - all the things that God gives us - all perishable, here today and gone tomorrow. All meaningless without him, and not ever meant to be worshipped in His place.

Yet this is exactly what my enemy would have me do. The Bible says that he prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking anyone that he might devour. He knows that seeking purpose and human praise through the adornment of ourselves will quickly lead to idolatry and destruction – it will devour us! He knows that we will become weary and heavy laden when we seek purpose in our own strength – making us easy prey. But Jesus said that if we will stop and seek Him first – if we will submit to His authority and humble ourselves in the role he has given us – if we will put on His meek, gentle, quiet spirit and take his yoke upon ourselves, He will give us rest! Here we will find peace and purpose and contentment in Him. Here we will be made beautiful. Instead of seeking to adorn our perishable bodies by various beauty regimens, new clothes and so on, let’s first be seeking to adorn the King of Kings by putting on a quiet spirit that stops to look to Him before ourselves. That is where we find imperishable beauty that is truly worthy of praise.

Touching the Untouchable

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and I have a good excuse. Several, actually, but the youngest of these is only 4 weeks old, and requires every ounce of my extra time. (Wait… did I just say extra time? HA… HAHAHAHAHA) Yep - things have changed just a tad since I last wrote!

*Ehem*. However, it’s time to write something that’s been on my heart and stirring up in my spirit lately, despite the lack of sleep, the business, the exhaustion and everything else that typically prevents such things from happening.

Our precious little son was born a month ago and is absolutely beautiful. It’s always so amazing to me that I can love each of my children so much, and yet still have enough love left to brim over with it when the next bundle arrives. I guess that’s God. Real love can’t be divided up and evenly dispersed as if there is one set amount that we have to give. We cannot run out of it if we are connected to the source… it is immeasurable. I guess that makes sense when Christ is the source, because he IS love. And he describes himself as a well of living water that never runs dry.

After my son was born, we went through a bit of a ‘storm’. (See the last post re: lulls and labor pains… I knew it was coming but I didn’t count on the severity of this storm!) The birth was really good, but three days later I encountered a 3^rd degree uterine prolapse. If you are like I was and have no idea what that is, Google it. It’s not pretty. In the terms I gave to my 7 year old, my uterus fell down, and the surrounding organs (and my pelvic floor) followed it. I refrained from telling her how far down it actually fell. I’m not even 30 years old yet, very healthy, and always have extremely healthy pregnancies and great birth experiences. My recovery time is always fabulous with no complications, and this birth was no different – I had no tearing or soreness, felt great after the birth, plenty of energy, etc. So you can imagine my surprise when a regular trip to the bathroom a few days later led to an anatomy lesson as I got to see what my uterus looked like OUTSIDE of my body. Needless to say, this was a huge shock. After the initial first hour as I mentally calmed down after absolutely freaking out, and recovered from the panic of that moment, my husband and I began praying and believing the Lord for healing. In the area that we live, we were told that if I had gone to the hospital at that time with a severely prolapsed uterus, I would have been rushed in for an immediate surgery, and they likely would have performed a hysterectomy. I have my reservations about hospitals in general – that’s why I have my babies at home. But given this information, you can bet your boots I was not going anywhere NEAR that hospital unless otherwise forced.

The next day, as per the Biblical instructions, I asked my husband if he could call the church and have a few of the elders come and lay hands on me and agree with us in faith that the Lord would heal my body. He agreed and we had our pastor and another member of the church come over. While we were praying, my husband put his hand on my belly and I felt something move upward. After that, I believed God had healed me and that my body would continue to come back into order. After all, God is not a God of disorder or of chaos, but of order. And I belong to Him. Not only that, but according to the Bible, this body of mine is actually named a temple of His holy spirit. So I just figured that a God of perfect peace and order would rather not have a home that’s all messy, weak, and out of order… right? Therefore, coupled with the fact that I am His child and I know that despite all my weaknesses and failures, He loved me enough to send His son to die for me, make me whole, and call me His own, I assumed it must be His will for me to get better.

The following 4 weeks have been testy for me. I’ve been on semi-bed rest; with more physical restrictions put on me than I would put on my 3 year old child as far as daily activities go. That is extremely tough for me. Partly because there’s a lot to do in my house, partly because I feel bad for my husband who was doing everything for me after a long day at work, and partly because of my own pride. I like being able to accomplish things, and I like helping my husband, and I like being a fun, able bodied mom to my kids. I do not like being told that I can’t do things. But despite being stubborn and prideful, I’m not into self sabotage and I’m not a complete idiot, so I’ve been careful to stick to my orders as much as possible and take care of this temple of mine, because it is actually not mine – it was bought with a price. I know I need to respect that if I am to have enough nerve to expect the Lord to heal it, so I have tried hard to submit myself to the authority of both my medical practitioner and my loving husband, and take care of myself. So, here I was on bedrest and trying hard not to hate it. To take my own advice and seek the Lord during this time of waiting and resting. To quit feeling angry or sorry for myself and start being thankful for all my incredible blessings, including the tiny, brand new one in my arms – and fix my eyes back on the one who created him. Ironically, this period of bed rest has not been very restful for me. Along with the prolapse came a whole slew of other consequent issues – the most notable one being a blow to my endocrine system, which caused my milk supply to plummet drastically. My baby was not getting enough food, and was losing weight fast. I was determined to get my supply back up, but in order to do that I had to sacrifice many hours of sleep, the rigidity of my home school schedule with my older children, and the majority of my sanity as I dealt with him relentlessly crying out for food and frantically feeding from me, almost without cease. It is such a hard place to be in, knowing that your baby is always hungry, never really satisfied and never full. I tried supplementing him with formula and his reaction was violent. So, I bought all the special milk boosting herbs, I ate like a cow, I drank water like a fish, I pumped between feeds and did everything in my power. I kept on feeding him, but I noticed that despite constantly eating, he was getting so little at each feed that he would fall asleep from the exhaustion of sucking, still hungry and in need of calories. As his body began shrinking, his cries became weaker, and when he wasn’t attempting to eat, he was sleeping. He was tired, and so was I. I knew I had to go back to my source, and remind myself about this God I serve – the one inside me. This same God who made my body could not only heal my prolapse, but also replenish the milk supply he had given. In a time of very little rest for my weakened body, I needed to quiet my restless spirit enough to hear his voice and seek His face. 

Some days, after getting out of bed without being really sure if I’ve slept at all the whole night through, gripping on to a crying, hungry baby as I clumsily pour cheerios into 3 other bowls (for equally hungry -though much quieter - little mouths) with one hand, I feel a little dry. Ok, I sometimes feel REALLY dry. As in… ready to snap, dry. But then I remember who my source is, and I remember that this body I’m living in is a temple that holds a spirit flowing with living water. A very holy spirit. The source is already inside me! When I’m feeling dry and thirsty and I’m running on empty, the Lord is reminding me that I need to stop and refuel – not just on sleep, or on food (though I need those too!) but on Him. I need His word – and LOTS of it. When my spirit is replenished, it washes over every part of me, starting from the heart - and my whole body is strengthened. Without that pure milk of God’s word, I become one miserable, desperate woman in no time flat. Yet when He fills me, it’s incredible how fast things are put into perspective and how satisfied I am in Him.

After observing my hungry baby day and night for the past month or so, I began to see myself in his little face, and started to understand the Lord’s heart for me as my loving creator. Anyone who has ever nursed a newborn can probably relate with the emotions we feel as we witness them crying out to us in utter need, recognizing that we are the sole source of their comfort. I believe the Lord has been using this trial to remind me of a few key things regarding my need for Him and His Word.

1    
      His word is the purest, most nutritious source of spiritual ‘food’ I can get. Sure, I can supplement with other books, fellowship, sermons from Christian pastors and speakers, etc etc and get partially fed from that, but I need the pure milk of His infallible word to truly fill, satisfy and nourish my hungry soul. The ‘food’ we get from other sources is not what God means by pure milk (1 Peter 2:2). In many cases, this so-called 'food' can poison us and make us sick - preventing growth altogether. There are many other great 'manmade' sources that can inspire us, sharpen us, and encourage us in our walk, but these spiritual 'food sources' are at the very best only a poor replica of the real deal.  No matter how much they enrich such sources with Biblical truths, we have to know that it is still only manmade ‘formula’. We aren't going to grow the way we’re meant to if that’s all we eat.

2   When you’re hungry enough to recognize your lack, it hurts. You’re desperate, you feel abandoned and afraid, and you’ll cry persistently until you can be fed. You know you are dependent on your provider, and you know the only way to get what you need is to cry out in pursuit of that nourishment that you so desperately need. If you're a healthy child of God, you're going to keep crying out to Him until you are fed, because you realize you're His child, that He loves you, that He has what you need, and that He wants to fill you up.

3   Sometimes, our need for God is a subtle downhill slope that drains us very slowly. We grow tired and weary, or busy and distracted, and we don’t notice that we’re getting less and less nourishment from Him. The less we get, the weaker we become. Our cries are half-hearted, and our prayers are faint. We become tired and lazy, to a point of complacency. But we don’t recognize that we are slowly starving and in desperate need of Him.

Through this whole experience with my son, I have witnessed his struggle with great heartache and great hope. I’ve recognized his need for my milk and the strength that it gives to his body. And I’ve felt an intense, passionate desire to fill up his little tummy and keep him satisfied at all times, no matter how often he needs it. To show him that I love him, I’m here for him, and that I never want to see him hungry. And no matter how much it takes from me, I want him to keep pursuing, keep eating – day or night – I never want him growing weary and giving up… I want him to grow, and live, and be strong! And you know what? It makes me proud to know that he is growing and getting strong as a result of this milk that flows from my own bosom.

This is the way I’ve come to see the Lord.

He sacrificed much to meet our needs. He gave up everything for us, and as a result, we have life – and life abundant. After His sacrifice on the cross, He left behind his holy spirit to dwell inside us, making us brand new creations… born again, spiritually speaking. And this new creation cannot live on physical food alone. He left us His word – the Bible – pure, spiritual milk flowing from the very bosom of God - to feed us and make us strong. And He is glorified in that! He gets the glory for our strength, growth, and new life in Him. He loves to see us thriving on the nourishment he provides for us. He’s a proud dad, and he loves us immeasurably, sacrificially, and unconditionally. He knows how much we need Him, and His heart breaks when we become too tired, too lazy, too distracted or too weakened by this world to recognize our need. Or worse yet – when we recognize our need, but in our weakness give up, and stop asking.

He wants us to see that need for Him, and cry out to Him with all we’ve got. If we’ll get the guts to muster up that first, desperate cry, and pursue Him, He will fill us up, and makes us strong. Once we’re thriving in Him, we’ll be aware enough of our need to lay down our own pride, recognize our own weakness and dependency on Him, and go to Him as the constant source of our strength, our life, and our health.

So after all of these life lessons from the Lord, I found myself in church last week during worship time, praying for continued healing of my body and a touch from Him. I had been refueling with His word and was just basically crying out to Him to see me, hear me, and restore me. All of a sudden, while I was trying to focus on the Lord, the dude behind me began speaking out very loudly, which I found a little annoying. I was trying to hear God, not Him! First He addressed Jesus of Nazareth. For any who don’t know, Jesus was born a Jew. Lived in Israel. Spoke Hebrew. Ok, moving on. So over and over, he was proclaiming “Lord, thou art holy, and thy train fills the temple!” (Insert mental eye roll) Was he being overly Christianese or what?  Why, pray tell doth this modern man feel that he must speaketh in the Shakespearean tongue when addressing Jesus of Nazareth? My mind was quickly moving from worship mode to annoyed, borderline rude mode, and I knew it. Gosh, I felt like a jerk. So then I had to stop and repent for being overly critical and judgmental of this guy who likely was raised on the King James Bible and was simply worshiping the Lord in the way he felt was most appropriate and most respectful. I asked God to help me focus on Him and not brother KJ behind me. But there it came again, even louder. “LORD, THOU ART HOLY, AND THY TRAIN FILLS THE TEMPLE!” This time it seemed to stab me – right through the back and into the heart. Immediately I got this mental picture of the woman addressed in the gospels as having “an issue of blood”. If you’ve never read this account, or need a refresher, you can find it in Matthew 9:20-22; Mark 5:25-34; Luke 8:43-48

Basically, it’s about an unnamed woman who was known for her incurable illness (involving ongoing bleeding for 12 straight years).  I assume she was likely anemic, weak and sickly, depleted of all kinds of essential nutrients; but beyond that, based on the way things were at that time it is probable that she would have been labeled ‘unclean’, not permitted to live normally in the town the way other women would – she would probably have been rejected as an outcast due to her condition, and forced to live in a degree of isolation for fear of spreading disease or contamination. I’m sure that after that many years, she must have been beyond desperate. She had spent all of her money on doctors who could not help her – her body was wasting away, she had no money, and probably no support. Her only hope was this seemingly ordinary man from Nazareth, whom she believed to be the promised Messiah. She had determined that because of His great power, all she needed to do was touch the hem of his garment, and she’d be healed. She planned to do this without anyone else knowing; running up behind him and pushing through a mob of other people until she finally could reach out and touch that robe. And sure enough, the faith she had in reaching out to touch him was enough to make her completely whole and healed. Jesus, who was on his way to heal Jairus’ daughter at the time, felt the power flow out of himself and into her. He stopped what he was doing immediately and would not continue on until she had shown herself and confessed what she had done. Fearfully, she came to him and told him her story, confessing it to him in front of the crowd around them. She was afraid of him, and yet he was so pleased with her that he commended her for her great faith, called her ‘daughter’, commissioned her to go in health and in peace, and felt it necessary for her story to be included in the Bible for you and I to learn from.

All of a sudden as I pondered this story, things clicked into place as I thought back to the passage that this man behind me was referencing when he spoke of God’s train filling the temple. In Isaiah 6, the prophet Isaiah describes a very lofty, Kingly God who sits on a throne surrounded by angels and celestial beings. His presence is awe inspiring and fear-inducing. His holiness is astounding and untouchable. Simply being in his presence caused Isaiah to fall to his knees in fear and shame, proclaiming himself as a man of unclean lips – not worthy of even speaking His name. Historically, the length of a man’s robes would indicate his level of honor or importance. Only the most prominent, such as royalty, politically prestigious, high priests, pure brides (hence the long trains that brides wear on their wedding days), etc would have long trains attached to their garments – symbolizing their clout and the fact that they are too lofty to work like regular citizens – instead, they were to be esteemed and served. So when we imagine the Lord God with a train so big and so long that it fills up the entire temple, we see a picture of the most holy, most kingly, most highly esteemed being imaginable – one who would cause any man to fall on his face at the sight of him, with fear and trembling, with honor and with worship for his majesty.

Fast forward to the man who Isaiah would later prophesy about with those same trembling, ‘unclean lips’ he had cried out to His maker with in Isaiah 6. The man who would come as our redeemer, bringing salvation to the Lord. God Himself, in the flesh – our restorer, our savior, and our very humble, very unpredictable King of Kings. Yes, there’s quite the contrast between these two pictures – and yet both images refer to the same, unchanging God. This untouchable, Holy of holies, King above kings, unimaginably awesome God who made you, me, and all the Earth – came down to this world he had made, born into the body of a man, and walked the earth as a perfect, yet humble servant. He chose a body that was nothing special to look at, a family who had no worldly nobility, a life that was short and difficult, and a death that was lonely, horrifying and brutal. He wore normal clothes, with no train to tell of His true kingship and holiness. Yet here was this woman, who knew he was the Lord. He knew He was her only hope for healing and her last chance for salvation. In her heart, despite failure after failure from doctors and medical advisors, she knew that her body could be healed – if only she could reach out and touch the hem of his garment. She pursued him with all the faith and all the hope she could muster up, and when she grabbed hold of that robe, she was instantly healed.

You see, God has been teaching me since my modeling days (contrary to what we see demonstrated in that world) that this body I live in is to be respected and treated as something that belongs to God, created as a vessel that can honor Him. He has taught me that my body is a temple, bought with a price. And in this moment, He showed me that this body is the temple that my Lord – this Holy, incredible, perfect and sinless Lord – actually lives inside. And that train He wears, that this woman needed only to reach out and touch to receive complete restoration and healing? -That train fills the temple.

He is inside me, along with his holiness and his goodness, his great love, and his healing power that can, will, and already has restored me.

The end result?

My midwife has since declared my prolapse resolved, and my body back in proper order.

Not only that, but my baby who had lost almost a pound two weeks ago has gained it all back, and more – he is now over 9lb and gaining by the day.

My physician’s name?

Wonderful counselor.

Mighty God.

Everlasting Father.

Prince of Peace.

Emanuel – God with us.

Savior and Healer.

Redeemer and Restorer.

Risen King.

His name is Jesus Christ, and His name is above EVERY name.

...Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. - Deuteronomy 8:3

Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. - 1 Peter 2:2-3

Lulls before Labor Pains

A few days ago, I had a man approach me randomly and push my protruding belly button (which, like most large, lone buttons seems to stand out as an irresistible beacon to all mankind, screaming “PUSH ME!” -Regardless of the number of layers I am wearing over it…) --he kept his finger on it and held it in as he cheerfully exclaimed “Is it done yet??” – To which he followed with a very tactful “tick, tick, tick - DING!” :)

My husband was with me at the time, and I’m thankful for the humor he imparted as he flashed me a knowing smile, refraining from chuckling as I (as graciously as possible) blurted out one of my rehearsed ‘laugh it off’ responses that I reserve for instances such as these, and then basically ran away. I’m pretty used to these things and for the most part, have learned by now to find humor in it and not let it bother me. Though I must admit to you that after my first baby was born, I spotted a t-shirt once with a picture of the Pillsbury Dough Boy on the front, which stated underneath it in bold letters “Poke me, and die.” 
Since that day, I have been covetous of a maternity shirt like that for pretty much the entire duration of my subsequent pregnancies. It’s true… I’m not a touchy person by any means, and I find it somewhat strange that all of a sudden sharing my body with a second human being gives others the impression that I want to share it with them too. I saw another shirt a few months ago (this time maternity) that looked like it was probably created by a non-huggy mommy like me, which stated: “IF YOU DIDN’T PUT IT THERE, DON’T TOUCH IT.” Ohhh so tempting! However, as I’m trying to get over my personal space issues in an attempt to be more outwardly loving to others (appreciating other love languages that I may or may not share…) and less stand-offish, I decided that I probably shouldn’t buy that one. ;)

Anyway, regardless of whether or not I want strangers poking at the dough, it’s true that in pop-prenatal lingo terms, this bun is just about ready to come out of the oven. Yes, I’ve officially reached the illusive “full term”. At 37 weeks along, my body is technically ready to go into labor at any time… but only God knows when that time is. “Full term” is considered to be a fairly broad span of time at the end of the pregnancy, ranging from 37-42 weeks gestation. And so comes the waiting. Over the last few days, things have finally become very ‘real’ to me – I really am going to have a baby in my arms (rather than on my bladder) in only a little while. It could be a few weeks, or it could be tomorrow. But either way, this is happening. With this realization has come a flood of many multiple feelings ranging from blubbery, to ballistic, to just plain bored. I’ve been doing the typical “nesting” stuff… cleaning all those little things I don’t usually think to clean regularly, washing, organizing and reorganizing baby clothes, cleaning and installing the car seat, etc… I’ve also caught myself thinking and daydreaming about what the baby might look like (Of this much I’m certain: with the genetics he’s taking from my hubby and I he will most certainly have huge lips, a very prominent nose, and no chance of being short), rubbing my belly mindlessly, and telling him I love him. Other times I sort of feel like freaking out. (“4 babies? Can I do this?! Am I insane?”) I often think about how nice it will be to have the full capacity of my lungs back… not to mention my brain (I once could be depended on by my children to find all the random things that go missing in a household… and by my husband, to know where the keys are, etc… Well, gone are those days, along with my short term memory. Last week, after searching for my keys for about twenty minutes, I found myself looking aimlessly into the fridge (because that’s where I end up now when I can’t remember what I was doing before), and found my keys beside the jam. Sigh.) However, most of the time, I’m just really looking forward to officially welcoming him into our family and being able to see this little miracle that thus far I have only known internally.

 No matter how fast a pregnancy may or may not go by, the last few weeks of waiting always seem like an eternity. I’m not a patient person at the best of times, but waiting anxiously for a baby’s arrival is tough stuff. This is what I call the lull before the labor pains, or the calm before the storm. After months of growing – both in girth and in anticipation, everything is ready, and all I can do is wait. When I find myself in times of tested patience and waiting on the Lord for His promises to be fulfilled in my life, (for example in this case, tempted to Google “natural induction methods” in case 3 weeks pass by and baby has still not made his appearance…) I find myself gently reminded of the verse from Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”
I think we need these lulls in life in order to force us to just stop, collect our thoughts, and focus back on the prize we are running toward. God knows we will need to keep that perspective when the break is over and the tribulations come. And this is what brings me to my next point – the part that always inevitably follows the “lull”.

 See, with all the waiting and anticipating, I often forget until very close to the time of labor about one quite horrifying little aspect of this whole ‘having a baby’ thing.

 Pain.

 Yeah… that thing we experience during labor… the absolute dread that strikes us after that first horrific contraction hits – realizing in sincere terror that there are more coming, like waves that will only build in intensity, and there’s no way out of it… that writhing, inconceivable pain that we could never possibly imagine or describe to anyone else, regardless of how many babies we’ve birthed… that pain that we endure with weeping and gnashing of teeth, swearing that if we survive it, we will never again be crazy enough to go through it again…

 At least, that’s how it was for me. During the labor of my first baby especially, I remember assuring myself over and over again that I would be able to get through the pain without dying – at least to the point of giving birth - hanging on to the fact that this baby was a gift and a blessing from God, and to the promises and confirmations that He had given me personally surrounding her birth. 

I had gone into what the doctors had told me was preterm labor at 33 weeks, got the steroid shot, and was told she would be born within 24 hours. I started reading my Bible and came to the verse in Malachi 3 where He promises “You will not cast your fruit before it’s time”. Anyone who knows Christ realizes that scripture is living and active, and at that moment, this verse just jumped out on the page for me to grab hold of. In context, it was speaking about how he had rebuked the devourer, and given a promise of completion and harvest to those who had been faithful to the Lord in their tithe and in offering him their ‘first fruits’. I believed I had done this with this child – knowing from the beginning that I was to lift this baby up to God as she belonged to Him, not me – and put the whole pregnancy and birth in His hands as well. Within a day or two, a couple from our church came to visit me in the hospital and shared that very same verse with me as a confirmation of this promise. Long story short, there was a lot of prayer involved and by the grace of God she stayed in there until her time. (And I therefore knew she had ‘a time’, that she would be my ‘harvest’ or my ‘fruit’ that was promised, and that God would be faithful to keep his promises. I had to stay hospitalized for another week and was then put on bedrest until she was full term, but the scripture He had given to me held true, and I knew I could rely on His word and His promises to bring this birth to completion. Being on bedrest was certainly one of those "lulls" in life that was hard to wait through, but it was a necessary lull that I was thankful to have as I waited for the proper time for this new baby to be born. When her time did come, I was very ready for the birth to happen, and far less ready for the pain - though of course, one cannot come without the other, and so I looked forward to the pain (through obvious, natural fear) with a strange joy, seeing it as a prerequisite to the promise that followed.

 During the labor, I focused on Christ. I thought ahead to the promise of this new life ready to be birthed, and I had what I can only really describe as “tunnel vision” – blocking everything and everyone else out of my mind and my sight, pushing through the pain and striving toward that promise. I remember acknowledging the intensity of the pain during all of this and feeling bewildered as to how my body was still in one piece, because it felt as if it were splitting in two – or would do so at any moment. I did say out loud at one point “Everyone says that women forget how much this hurts afterwards, so don’t any of you dare let me forget it, because I don’t want to do this again!!” But just when I cried out to God (out loud) thinking that I couldn’t make it any longer without some kind of drug or medication to ease the pain, I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, and the flood of overwhelming joy and thanksgiving that filled up my heart was enough to eliminate all fear and all memory of that pain I felt just minutes before. As she was being birthed, I remember crying out so loudly with joy that I couldn’t even contain it, calling through tears “Thank you God! Thank you God!” like a siren horn, over and over. I don’t know what the practitioners assisting the birth thought of it at the time, but I didn’t care. In my mind, this was His victory, not mine. The promise I’d held on to, He had brought to completion. The miracle I’d known as just a secret pledge inside me was now visible, tangible, and touchable, and all the pain in the world would not have been enough to stop me from doing it all over again, knowing the fruit that had come of it with this new life I now treasured in my arms.

 

Some of us are blessed with children in this lifetime, and those who are know the joy I have just described – the joy of suffering what is arguably the greatest pain imaginable to the human brain in order to gain what is the greatest earthly gift we could ever fathom. It helped me during my previous labor experiences to remember that God had built my female body with the purpose of giving birth to children in mind… therefore, even if my logical mind couldn’t fathom getting through it, I knew deep within me that the workmanship behind my body could be trusted. Granted, thanks to the consequences of sin, the pain I must endure in order to see this new life birthed is now inexpressibly dreadful and difficult. If there were a way to give birth naturally with no pain, I’d take it. In fact, many who have given birth can probably attest to at some point crying out for someone to take away the pain – whether through medical intervention, or (in my case) through a desperate call to God to take this excruciating burden away.

 Does this sound familiar?

 Whether it sounds familiar to you or not, I know someone who can not only relate to these feelings, but bring me to my knees in humility as I contemplate the magnitude of His story in contrast to mine. His story is one of the greatest victory ever accomplished – a story of the most miraculous life ever given to mankind. His story is also my story, because He has brought this new life to me, and I am now alive because of it. But as with any new life born, there are birth pains. Pains that make me re-examine the wording I used in the previous paragraph when I described the burden of my labor pain as “excruciating”. Do I even realize the meaning behind that word? One thing I know – He certainly does. This word “excruciating” originates from the Latin excruciatus, past participle of excruciare, which literally means “to crucify”. The word cruc is from crux, which means “cross”. So excruciating pain describes a torturous, agonizing pain synonymous with the physical horrors that Christ would have undergone during his crucifixion as his wrists and ankles were literally nailed to a wooden cross, shattering bone and piercing through flesh, and then enduring on that cross as it was erected vertically – his body hanging from it as his limbs were stretched and pulled out of joint by the weight of it. Before he was crucified, Jesus was beaten and marred to the point where he was almost unrecognizable (Isaiah 52:13-15), with scars all over his body. He was stripped of all dignity, naked and taunted by his accusers as they spat on him, ridiculed him, and formed a wreath of sharp thorns into a crown for his head, which they cruelly pressed into his temples as they mocked the notion of his kingship and authority.

The night before all this happened, Jesus found himself in the garden of Gethsemane, praying on his knees to the Father for Him to take this burden away from Him. Although to his disciples, it appeared that this was a time of peace – a lull, if you will – Jesus was very aware of the pain he was about to undergo for the sake of his mission. No one could have anticipated what he was about to endure, but He, being the Spirit of God within the body of a man, knew exactly what He was in for. He was perfect – He was good. Truly good – unlike me, and unlike any person ever born – Having never sinned even once in his entire life – being just and gentle, honorable and kind, wise, forgiving, and blameless in every way – with love for humanity that is completely without merit, and surpasses all understanding… because we had made ourselves His enemies. Despite all this, this Lord of Heaven -whom angels worship and winds and waters obey - came humbly to this earth and became like one of His own weak creations, to take that curse we had laid upon ourselves and put it instead upon Himself. He came to die as a consequence for our sin in order to save us from our fate and bring us new life. He knew even before He came that because of the curse of this sin, the ‘labor pains’ he would endure for the sake of salvation and new birth would be humanly unfathomable. Yet despite all He knew as God in the flesh, all He had chosen to do, all He desired and looked forward to with joy, and all He was about to accomplish through the sacrifice He would willingly make, He still had a weak, human body just like you and I - and He was unquestionably afraid. More than afraid, really. The Bible says that He was filled with so much anxiety and dread of what was to come that He actually sweat blood, which is a phenomenon that only happens in the most extreme cases of physical stress known to humanity. (See this article for more info) Yes, Jesus had to undergo this pain for us as a man, not in the form of all-powerful, invincible God – but as a human vessel – to serve once and for all as a sacrifice for all mankind. He literally came to be crushed for our iniquities, in order to spare us from the fate that we, as people who live in (and are therefore slaves to) sin – were doomed to under the law of Moses (the ten commandments) – knowing that we no longer have the ability to save ourselves through works, because no one is ‘good’. We are all flawed, and we are all enemies of God, whether we know it or not, because of our hearts which are bent toward rebellion against Him. Jesus came to change all this. He is the Light of the world. Without Him, we are blind – we are dead in sin. This is why He tells us “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” He came humbly to the earth, not as a triumphant king but as a tiny miracle inside a young, scared, flawed woman’s virgin womb.
And He was born not like ‘Superbaby’, but just like all of us are born – naked, hungry, and dependent. In fact, even his birth showed the nature of his humility, born in a barn full of smelly animals, to two scared young parents who had no experience with even conceiving a baby yet – let alone delivering one – birthed on a bed made of hay. (How’s that for ‘unassisted?’ He didn’t even get a home-birth or a midwife!) Jesus had a body just like you and I do, and though this was his sole purpose in growing up as a human being and living on this earth as a man, in no way did he desire to undergo the pain and tribulation that was set before him. As he prayed for hours of intense anxiety in that garden, He even cried out to God “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me.” (Sound familiar?) But he followed it immediately with “Yet not my will, but your will be done.”

 In this lifetime, whether we are male or female, single or married, parents or not, we will experience lulls before labor pains – periods of time where life seems stagnant, and waiting on God feels like a torturous eternity of monotony. We can feel dry and discouraged if we lose our focus – which is Christ – and focus on ourselves, with such limited human vision. We can look at our lives with frustration at circumstances that seem unchanging, dreams conceived but still not born, and work that seems to be fruitless. This is the time that we are called to submit to His leadership and rest in Him… to be still, and know that HE is God.

 What inevitably follows these lulls in life tends to be something that no one wants to talk about – and that is pain. No one wants to wait, and no one wants to deal with hardships, but nowhere in the Bible does it tells us we can get through this life without those difficult trials if we want to grow and experience true life in Christ. In fact, He actually promises us that we will suffer trials and tribulations because of the curse of sin in this world we live in. 
But He also promises us that we will overcome, because He has overcome the world. 

 And so, in this ‘race’ we run here on this earth, we look to Christ as our prize and our victory. We already know the outcome of our labor – and that is life. Everlasting, abundant, beautiful, perfect life through Jesus who overcame sin and death for our sake. If He is your Lord and your Savior, you (though once dead because of sin) have died with Him in all His suffering. These trials and tribulations, this sin in our bodies that we struggle against, and these enemies we face in life have all been dealt with by Christ Himself, and with Him, we will come out victorious. Don’t forget that He not only died for us – He rose again, conquering death. We (not our physical bodies, which will pass away like everything else, but WE) have been resurrected with Him, given new life. The old has passed away, and we are new, pure, blameless creations in Christ! We are born again and living in freedom, grace, and amazing love – not because of anything we have achieved or endured, but because of the labor that HE endured to bring us to life in Him, bringing joy to our Father in Heaven.

 In John 16:21-22, we see Jesus speaking to his disciples and foreshadowing the time of mourning they would experience during his death and burial, as they awaited his resurrection. He had just informed them that he would be leaving them, though they did not know all the details. He told them they would see him again, but they didn’t know where he was going, or for how long. They were greatly disturbed about losing Jesus and walking through life without Him. But He explains “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy." Jesus knew the joy that was before Him, and He also knew the pain that was before Him. Yet, He was able to keep His perspective, just as He instructs us to do as we follow Him.

 Hebrews 12:1-3 says “Let us lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

 Labor pains will almost always come before the most incredible life-giving miracles and God-given transformations we will ever experience. But we can look ahead to Christ as the founder and perfecter of our faith, who gives us the power and ability to endure all things – because He endured all things for us. And so, whether you are in a lull, or walking through a time of tribulation and pain, or whether you have just experienced the joy of new birth in your life circumstances, I hope you will keep your eyes fixed on the one who is the way, the truth, and the life we all seek – He is the prize we are running for.

 So, I’ll share the mantra I’ll be repeating to myself in a matter of time when this lull ends and my labor pain begins: Keep breathing, keep pushing, and keep focused!

 Love and blessings! xo