It translates into the way I keep my home. Tidy, mostly organized, meals planned and schedule attended. But beneath the surface, a more critical eye would see that the toilets have a grimy ring, the baseboards are dusty and the closets, attic and basement storage hide all manner of clutter in the abyss. It’s time to admit that when it comes to my home (and, if I’m being honest, my heart), I often care more about gaining the good opinion of others through outward appearances than that of cultivating inward purity. “Behold, You desire truth in the inmost places…” (Psalm 51:6) I’m not necessarily convicted that the Lord is calling me to have either a cleaner or messier house, but the parallel is interesting to note. Do I really love the truth in the dark, hidden places? Do I truly long for the Spirit to expose the secret sin swept under the carpet in shame?

It impacts the way I cultivate my friendships and share Christ with unbelievers. I have said that I like to have answers for things, boxed up in a neat little package. But getting even more real, perhaps I should substitute for “answers”, the word “opinions.” Personal opinions are all-too-often misconstrued for godly convictions, and I am all-too-willing to share those sentiments with friends that may not need or want to hear it. And how helpful is it to share the gospel primarily on the basis of argument? No one likes to look stupid or feel inferior in a debate, and striving to prove another wrong rarely wins souls. “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me by Your generous Spirit. Then I will teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners shall be converted to You.” (vv. 12-13) Is not mercy more attractive than condemnation to a friend? Is not joy more contagious than judgment to a sinner?

It effects the way I raise my children. Too often, I discipline outward behavior rather than shepherding the inner motives of their hearts. I have reacted in anger over accidental spills and rushed through a discipline session without taking the time to fully reconcile the relationship more times than I’d care to admit. “You do not desire sacrifice…You do not delight in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken and contrite heart – these, O God, You do not despise.” (vv. 16-17) Do I teach my children to go through the religious motions and attain to a socio-cultural standard of behavior, or do I raise them to understand that none of that stuff matters, if they have not the love of Jesus in their hearts? Do I show love them because they behave well, or do I love them simply because they are mine – as Father God loves me?

Similarly, it influences the way I relate to my husband. We’ve worked some of these issues out, but especially when I was first married, I spent a lot of energy expecting Matthew to be more driven to achieve and make a name for himself based on that performance. I wanted him to build a resumé, do all the “right” things to gain the respect and praise of man. I am now extremely proud of my husband’s occupational and ministerial choices, but I have had to do serious business with the Lord concerning some deep expectations and hopes I had going into the marriage. I had to ask, do I love my husband for what he does, or do I love and support him on the basis of who he is? Do I encourage him to succeed before the eyes of man, or am I firstly committed to the standing of his heart before God, which is never judged on the basis of worldly success?

Which brings me to the final way this black-and-white, self-righteous attitude affects my life: It reflects on my relationship with Jesus. If I’ve held my family to a certain standard of success in my heart, then I’ve held my own person to an impossible one. Again and again, I’ve found myself once again relating to God on the basis on my own merit and come to the startling reminder that everything good I’ve ever done is worthless, and every sin of my heart is paid for, covered by the blood of Jesus. As Paul says, “But what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith” (Philippians 3:7-9). Is Jesus truly my everything? Have I counted all as loss for the sake of gaining Him?

I’m not trying to be self-deprecating to my personality here. To love the truth and stand for it does not necessitate being a self-conscious neat-freak, judgmental of others, raising perfectionist kids and anxious for the reputation and performance of my husband, or of striving to gain God’s favor by my own merit. I know I’ve tended toward some of those behaviors in the past, but I believe there is a redemptive way to carry godly passion for Truth in true righteousness – not self righteousness. I’m still not sure what that looks like, but I’m on the journey and I finally think I’m asking the Lord the right questions, rather than spouting all the “right” answers.

In blog entries past, I’ve shared the “finished” product. Lessons already learned, written and posted in a clean-cut, polished package. But this is just messy. This is me figuring out who I am created to be in the present, and putting it out there without any clear answers. And so, perhaps it is more authentic. I invite you to share the journey with me and come to the Cross again, asking Jesus to renew our minds and show us the way forward that leads to fullness of life!

A little life flutters with gymnastic movement in my swelling abdomen. Again, I go down this glorious road. My boys ask to “see the baby” and lift up my shirt to touch the stretch marks and feel the kicks, and my darling girl snuggles around it during our nigh-night rock before bed, blissfully ignorant that this intrusive bump will soon transform her from baby to big sister. My fourth child and third son will join our growing tribe and surely already has joined the ranks of souls destined for eternity. For that miracle moment happened at conception, and endures for everlasting – changing the world, and indeed the age to come – forever.

I love that I get to be the vessel that carries these wee ones for this fleeting season of motherhood. My oldest is not yet four, yet I already find my heart grasping to hang on to the sweetness of those bits of time that sail on by before I’ve yet fully appreciated the gift of them. I pray I won’t forget Levi’s proud grin when he brings me “bootiful flowers” of dandelion or clover; or Zay-Zay when he carefully balances a tower of blocks and declares, “I’m doin’ a gwate job, Mama”; or the happy clap of my 14 month old’s chubby hands when she successfully stands on her own; or the twinkle in my husband’s eye after the kids have gone down. And yet for for every delightful memory, it seems a thousand others have already gone missing.

Heaven records them on my behalf. Even the ones I wish I could forget.

My four year old seems to know how best to expose Mommy’s weaknesses. Probably because so much of my own firstborn self wrapped up in his little personality. Not only does he bear much resemblance to my outward appearance, but he also inherits many of my inner qualities. Responsible, competitive, enthusiastic, verbal, take-charge, affectionate, determined, thoughtful, and loves a challenge but is hesitant to try something new he’s unsure he can succeed at. My boy. When I go in to kiss and pray for my children at night, it’s him for whom I have the greatest burden. He’s the first arrow of our quiver, the forerunner of the younger who follow watchfully behind, pondering his example and how his parents will respond to each new territory of childhood he trailblazes. And he of all the children (thus far), is also the one that highlights my weaknesses, not my strengths as a parent. My temper, my impatience, my lack of discipline. I know this is no accident. No child ever is.

There are no accidents. It could have been a different cycle, a different combination of egg and sperm, a different story altogether. My husband could have gone to the Air Force and not to the university where he met the young man that led him to the Lord; we could never have met through a chance meeting at the airport; I could have never drawn breath, flaccid and blue on that hospital bed at birth; my grandpa could have died from a blitzkrieg in London in World War II before producing offspring…a million alternatives could have drastically altered the direction of our lives…but they didn’t. God knew us. Before the foundation of the world, He conceived us in His mind and desired us in His heart.

He gave me a husband so profoundly different from me and a son so terribly like me and said “It is good.” He gave me four children in such quick succession that onlookers think I’m crazy and often I think maybe I am, and said “I love you.” He gives me challenges bigger than I think I can handle, then surprises me with Grace. He has shown me how to overcome – not from my strengths, but from my most weakest place.

Motherhood is a weak place. But it is us poor, blessed ones of the earth that are positioned to know and experience the depths heart of the Father in more powerful ways than most. We are quickly ushered down to the lowest place as we bend in service to our children and beg heaven for help to raise babes into warriors. As we care for the “least of these”, we are being fashioned to become “the greatest” in the kingdom to come.

Heaven records each moment surrendered, squandered, and offered as a sacrifice of praise to our King. I’m living a beautiful season of life. Lord, help me to love more!

Weed and bramble once given root, spread and choke, overtaking the garden’s beauty and fruitfulness.

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?”

Mothers are given keep over this sacred ground, charged with the divine mandate nurture and protect. Setting the tone, atmosphere and attitude, they have power to create the family’s culture and identity, and encourage beauty and fruitfulness in the hearts of all who dwell within her walls.

But left untended, discontent, anger and a complaining spirit quickly spoil her efforts. Thoughts unspoken and words uttered aloud have power to tear down the garden walls and allow thief and weed to creep into the hallowed earth.

I grieve inside when such words escape my lips, and I see the effects of my sin on the fallen countenances of my loved ones. I strive so hard to be perfect in my loving but my flesh can’t dig out the weeds fast enough before they spread. I know what it’s like when weariness gives way to anger, when inward complaints play like a broken record, and discontent chokes the joy from your heart.

But I’ve found a mighty weapon, a potent fertilizer that kills the weed, heals the wilting flower and lifts up the sickly vine. It is the secret to knowing Joy…

The tonic of Thanksgiving.

This simple strategy is powerful to cast out anger, fuel contentment and oust depression. And I’ve resolved to keep a book of remembrance for these gifts of God’s goodness for which I ought to be grateful.

What if it’s not my life’s circumstances that need to change, but my attitude that ought to praise that makes me happy person? It saddens me to think how man thousands of ordinary blessings have gone overlooked in my life thus far by my own pitiful self-absorption, and I’ve resolved not to indulge that Thief that comes to steal and destroy any longer by feeding a spirit of ungratefulness and heaviness.

I testify, fellow woman, that my heart is lighter and faces are smiley-er today as I walk through each day looking for the Garden Giver’s gifts, His magic “seeds” to sow in the hearts of my children. For,

“A continual dripping on a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike…” (Proverbs. 27:15)

“A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones.” (Proverbs 17:22)

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me [Jesus] because He has anointed Me…to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:1,3)

A few thanksgivings from my journal this week:

-The happy babble of babies as they innocently experiment with lips, tongue and sound – caring nothing to make sense or articulate perfectly – but just delight in the ability they are given. Perhaps this is the truest praise.

-The gentle, subtle leadership of the Holy Spirit. Though answers were desired long ago, the forging work of waiting crucible is far more valuable than the answers themselves. Thank You for Your patience with us, O Lord!

-Drowsy, early morning snuggles, cupped inside the strong, tender frame of my Beloved.

-Photographs. Each one representing a host of memories and reminding me of how much happiness I’ve known in times gone by.

-Warmth beneath sweater and blanket even as wind blows snow, icing the trees with white outside our window. My family is warm – how many on earth go to sleep cold and wet in winter? God, bless and protect the poor and orphaned.

What gifts do you give thanks for this week?

Faithfully,

Song

“So what do you DO with your days?” a stranger asks when you cheerfully assert that you are a stay-at-home mom.

The question itself betrays our socially-engineered belief that true value is found outside the home, and illustrates how alien the realities of domestic life are to the average person.

Some things about this role of homemaker come easier to some than others, I realize. Gratefulness for my own dear mama – who took great effort to develop homemaking skills and dreams in her five daughters – daily inspires my own endeavors as a housewife and mother. But such examples are rare in this day and age, and the God-ordained role of womanhood is misunderstood, resisted and even penalized in a culture that figures the standard of living for the average household based on two-incomes.

She that chooses to stay at home with her babies does have rough seas to navigate. She must seek to stretch paychecks from month-to-month, fighting comparisons to her more “successful” career-oriented college friends; she is perpetually overlooked in the hiddenness of the home, receiving little appreciation from both children and society for her sacrifice on their behalf; she longs for sophisticated mental stimulation which the company of toddlers cannot supply; her routine only fluctuates when a child spikes a fever or goes to a birthday party; she feels perpetually sleep-deprived as she dutifully rises each night to feed an infant or comfort a child from a bad dream; her housework is dull and difficult to maintain amid habitual spills and messes…and on and on. There’s never a problem finding something to complain about, is there?

Here’s a woman that articulated her complaints quite well. Her name is Elizabeth Cady Stanton – mother of seven children and the one some consider the founder of the feminist movement (convening the Seneca Falls Women’s Rights Convention in 1848), who writes the following in a letter to a fellow activist:

“Oh, how I long for a few hours of leisure each day. How rebellious it makes me feel when I see Henry going about where and when and how he pleases. He can walk at will through the whole wide world or shut himself up alone, if he pleases, within four walls. As I contrast his freedom with my bondage, and feel that because of the false position of women, I have been compelled to hold all my noblest aspirations in abeyance in order to be a wife, a mother, a nurse, a cook, a household drudge, I am fired anew and long to pour forth from my own experience the whole long story of woman’s wrongs.”  *

[Catch her precise pick of words: long, leisure, rebellious, bondage, false position, compelled (read, “forced”), abeyance (read, “poor me”), etc.]

In the midst of the noise, activity, babies and getting supper on the table, the greatness of what we do is often lost. Like Ms. Stanton, thoughts enter our minds which make it feel like (the seeming unending task of child-rearing and domestic toil) stand at full-frontal war against the dreams which are really successful, noble and fulfilling. If only she could see her womanly role from God’s perspective, for the glorious call it truly is. If only she understood that the core issues of her joyless existence were not physical, emotional or circumstantial; they were spiritual.

The serpent still whispers his lies into the minds of the daughters of Eve.

He fills her mind with vanity and her heart with the lust for more. More control, more power, more beauty, more influence… and suddenly, all things simple, all things home and hidden seem less. The irony is that the more “greatness” she grasps for, the more “success” she tries for, the less she feels fulfilled.

Thankfully, heaven measures greatness and success much differently than does this fallen world. When the world expected a political figurehead of power, heaven sent a peasant-born babe instead; instead of a white horse, they got a dumb, belly-dragging donkey; looking for a wealthy king, He came poor in worldly goods and poor in spirit; the world looked for someone they could esteem, but Jesus came of no reputation.

God in His wisdom chose to bring forth the greatest success story of all history, the nobility of heaven, the fulfilled dream of God Himself…through a young woman, a simple homemaker, a virgin bride to be the mother of His Son.

She who stays at home has the same opportunity – to raise little sons and daughters of the Most High who will go forth representing His love and declaring His plan to the world, and who will one day take their place by His side as co-heirs reigning with Christ – and she will be rewarded.

God’s promise to us is this:

“He who is greatest among you shall be your servant. And whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Matthew 23:10-12).

The woman, as a domestic housewife and mother, has a unique position in the kingdom of God to receive great glory in the age to come as she embraces her God-ordained feminine glory to be joyfully hidden in the home…

…for we are not hidden to heaven.

*My nightstand has lately been occupied with this very thoughtful, provoking read: “Radical Womanhood: Feminine Faith in a Feminist World”. The author gives a very thorough overview of the feminist movement from a solidly biblical frame of reference, and I have been inspired anew to engage the world in the fullness of God’s intention as a woman.

If she only knew how she captured her Maker’s heart by her quiet gentleness, hidden service and nurturing spirit. If she only could have come to Him to find her worth, her voice, her meaning. If she only knew that she was made in His image, and she had her very own part to play in the drama of the ages – casted for the role of His Bride, His everlasting partner, His glorious Queen. But she couldn’t comprehend such a heavenly destiny.

Spurning male dominance and seeking feminine glory, she fought for equality, purpose and significance in a struggle that has raged tempestuously in the last century of western civilization. Deceived in her understanding of feminine worth, she became the weak spot in the crust of the social earth, through which would erupt a fuming volcano, long churning and boiling beneath a once picturesque and breathtaking mountainside.

Prior to this cataclysmic event, divorce, homosexuality, single parenting, unwed mothers, birth control, abortion and pornography were virtually non-issues. But now they are common realities in her many households for thousands of miles in all directions. Destroying marriages and families, the lava flowed. And the choking ash clouds fell on broken survivors, blanketing society in a gray haze of confusion – leaving men berated and emasculated, women unfulfilled and disillusioned, and children heartbroken and terribly disoriented by it all.

In effort to be equal to Man, Woman sought to be like Man, and under this new social philosophy of the past century, her true glory has become arguably more oppressed and elusive an ideal than at the inception of the feminist movement. The art of homemaking ridiculed. The blessing of motherhood disdained. The beauty of the female body cheapened. And the honor of submitting to and being a lifelong “helper” to a man the chief of all folly.

And this attitude has pervaded the Church almost wholesale.

She whose character and virtue should have provoked the world to jealousy by her confident joy in her role as Adam’s creative counterpart; she whose very nature embodies half of God’s own image; she who is of the shining legacy of Sarah, Esther, Ruth and Mary; she who models for the world the Love that Christ desires to have in His own Bride; even she…has rejected her inheritance.

Daughters of Eve – single, married, all – let us embrace the glorious nature of womanhood! Let Him who is Father, Him who is Husband – let Him call forth our eternal destiny, creative identity and ravishing beauty. Let Him “sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the Word…” (Eph. 5:26). Let Him reveal our feminine glory.

Sanctify and cleanse me, O God, from the deceit of the enemy and the lusts of this world. Grow in my heart the seeds of beauty, creativity and wisdom You have uniquely planted within my being, and cause me to know joy and contentment in the role you have perfectly suited to my womanly frame. Let me reflect Your glorious image as a daughter fully embracing her identity in Christ! Amen.

_______________________________________________
Want to join me in my search for feminine glory? Coming post ideas to whet your appetite:

Bone of His Bone, Flesh of His Flesh: Created to be His Helper
Moving Mountains at the Kitchen Sink: the Power of Prayer
Saved in Childbearing: What Little Ones Have to Teach Us
No Greater Joy: Raising Children to Walk in Truth
Hidden in the Home: Domestic Nobility
A Letter to my Sisters: From Singleness to Oneness in Marriage

Stay tuned…

Almost nine months ago, a man loved a woman with such brimming passion that it overflowed with creative energy into her being. And as they exulted in that supreme expression of oneness,

Creation.

The event was so exhilarating that it risked everything. Casting off fear with joyful abandon; embracing the pain and heartache; accepting the imminent personal failures and extraordinary responsibility; daring Life to come forth as a worthy reward for Love’s great work.

In a tiny way, this gift of motherhood gives a glimpse into the depths of the Father’s heart and His infinite longing – an intimate knowledge of His all-consuming desire to cradle His adoring children in His arms, finally and forever. “Father, I desire that they also whom You gave Me may be with Me where I am, that they may behold My glory…” (John 17:24).

The longing enlarges like the bulging of her belly. Her time has come. Faster and harder she contracts, her body taxed to the uttermost. The pains seem beyond endurance, yet she presses on, surrendering to its indomitable force with prayers and groans deeper than words can utter.

Then – in one incredible, timeless moment – the missing was gone, filled up in the tiny being her arms now caress. Heart only moments before squeezed of every last ounce of vigor, now suddenly floods with joy inexpressible, love incomprehensible.

And when those tiny fingers, and wriggling toes make their eternal imprints upon the world, she feels as though her heart would break with love beneath the weight of it.

A life so deeply missed, finally kissed.

The time is drawing near when Creation too will labor and groan in “earnest expectation…eagerly waiting for the revealing of the sons of God.” A time when His people, His Church, His Bride will endure tribulation beyond precedent. But she will not despair.  The time draws near when, though beaten, martyred, persecuted and hated, she will say in serene confidence:

“…the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the GLORY which shall be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18-19).

In that Day, the Father will wipe away every tear from her eye. The pain will be forgotten, the missing a faded memory. Refined in the flame, pressed on through the narrow, difficult canal that leads to life, she emerges into Glory, beholding her Maker face to face. And she declares to the heavens…

It was worth it all.

Quite literally, Matthew and I rode off into the sunset (or flew, rather)…away from our wedding reception in a hot air balloon. Newly married with all the ideology of young love, we were on top of the world, living out our own real life fairy-tale. But life doesn’t end at sunsets. That night simply marked the end of Two, and in the new mercies of the morning after, we began life as One.

“For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh…”

We had no idea what we had gotten ourselves into, but God certainly did. And I’m thankful for our blissful innocence over the mighty vows we made. With childlike faith we walked unknowingly into a fire that is even today purging our souls. Like the sunset we rode into, marriage is the portal into the Fire of God’s unrelenting passion to purge us of selfishness and sin. Thawing our cold, dark hearts, we are filled with light and consuming passion to love as He loves.

Suddenly, I was no longer allowed to keep my body, my thoughts, or my dreams to myself. Suddenly someone else had equal ownership over it all – and I over his. Suddenly, I had to surrender. Surrender to the prospect of pain, for the hope of Love.

“…this is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the church” (Ephesians 5:31-32).

Over the days, months and few years thus far that have followed, we’ve had our share of conflicts, misunderstandings, hurt feelings, disrespectful words and unloving reactions. But through the silence, the emotional distance, and the tearful discussions, we discovered something shocking: Love is not meant to be without pain. Neither is Love the experience of euphoric happiness, as Hollywood deceptively portrays.

“Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8).

Prior to marriage, I had various untested opinions. One of these was that conflict equated to failure. Failure to communicate rightly, failure to love, failure to be perfect. But God does not invite perfect people into this journey called Love. He invites the broken, the weak, the ones who don’t know what they are doing, but are willing to ask for help. So he calls out a man and brings to him a woman, commands them to Love…and then creates situations between them of conflict, trial and pain so they will know how to suffer long, choose not to be provoked, overcome the impulse to behave rudely, be compelled to bear all things, hope all things, endure all things. Love is not Love unless it is tested and tried. And when it is tested, Love never fails.

“…this is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the church.”

I love to talk about my marriage. I love to be best friends with the man I call Husband – to bear his children and partner with him in raising our growing family. But the real reason I write to you today is to inspire you to see your own marriage not simply as two people going through life together, but to realize that the power of what it is that you are doing! For better or for worse, you are living in an earthly analogy of an eternal reality.

Jesus is coming back. He is a Bridegroom, He is a King, and He is coming to claim His Bride, that she may rule and reign with Him from everlasting to everlasting. This is not just poetry; this is true prophecy of a conflict that will shake the nations and at long last bring forth justice in the earth. When this God-Man returns, He will set up His kingdom and establish righteousness in a world that hated Him, and those that said ‘yes’ to His Love – they will win the right to be His Bride, and be yoked to Him as His eternal companion.

This hidden life that we lead, fellow women – this unnoticed, ill-appreciated task of home-making as wives and mothers – will not remain hidden forever. How we surrender to Love in this life makes all the difference in our eternal standing before the Throne. Like Esther, will you choose to beautify yourself and cleanse your heart to one day be chosen as His Queen? Out of undying Love for us, Jesus Christ died on a cross, despising the shame for the joy set before Him of one day being united with His Bride. His death and resurrection has given us everything we need to love as He loved!

We won’t do it perfectly, but if we realize this thing called ‘marriage’ is about so much more than two broken people, and is in fact a reflection of the Glory yet to come, don’t you think it would change us? Don’t you think the reward of eternity would motivate us to love more selflessly when we are wronged against, misunderstood, spoken to harshly or rudely, accused falsely, hurt or lacking in affection and tenderness from our spouses? And don’t you think that a fiery marriage devoted to reflecting the beauty of the Marriage to come would melt the cold hearts of a world frozen by sin and selfishness? Don’t you think our children would reap the blessings?

“…by this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35).

“…this is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the church.”

Let’s love God – and change the world – by loving the man we married. Let’s give the world a tiny glimpse into the beauty of the Wedding yet to come.

Faithfully,

Song

Contradicting my normally pragmatic, commonsensical self, I am finding myself with the prayer of Jabez on my lips: “O that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory…” (1 Chronicles 4:10) Bless me with children, God! Make me a mother of many nations! Give me the dream of Your heart for these precious souls…

I’ve got two toddlers and an infant. I already go to bed every night exhausted from the day’s activity. Don’t I already change enough diapers, prepare enough meals and train enough children for this season of my life as a 26 year old mom? Excuses abound in the face of great need. Excuses abound when I face my own weakness. But praise God, so does Grace.

I am deeply convicted by this scripture. I urge you to let it touch your heart concerning the poor of the earth today:

But this I say: He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. ⁷ So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver. ⁸ And God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may have an abundance for every good work. ⁹ As it is written:

“He has dispersed abroad,
He has given to the poor;
His righteousness endures forever.”

Now may He who supplies seed to the sower, and bread for food, supply and multiply the seed you have sown and increase the fruits of your righteousness, ¹¹ while you are enriched in everything for all liberality, which causes thanksgiving through us to God. ¹² For the administration of this service not only supplies the needs of the saints, but also is abounding through many thanksgivings to God, ¹³ while, through the proof of this ministry, they glorify God for the obedience of your confession to the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal sharing with them and all men, ¹⁴ and by their prayer for you, who long for you because of the exceeding grace of God in you. ¹⁵ Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:8-15).

Whether it be the children of Haiti, feeding the homeless, giving financially or bringing soup to the widow next door,

“Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27).

Like Christ, we are anointed

“To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD,
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn,
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified” (Isaiah 61).

How will you sow the seeds the Lord has put within you? How much grace will you dare Him to pour out? What trees of righteousness will rise up and glorify the Lord because you said ‘yes’ to helping the poor and broken of the earth – forsaking comfort, convenience and financial security? What is the harvest you are dreaming of? These are the questions that haunt me today…

If you want to track with the situation of the Haitian children and how some are seeking to answer them in their time of need, click HERE. And pray for the orphans of Haiti.

His Name is Jesus.

I often don’t feel like I’m growing much of anything as I spend my days kissing boo-boos, changing diapers, preparing meals, playing puzzles, teaching my children to obey, cleaning my house and breaking up squabbles. But this task of home-making is so much more than the mundane, routine and ordinary. In this hidden place rarely appreciated – even avoided – by our culture, where no one notices our humble endeavors  – here, in this fertile underground, the Lord has chosen to create beauty. Authentic. Fragrant. Fruitful. Rich.

I love to think of Mary, our Lord’s own mother. Her life bears witness to God’s great favor over us young wives and mothers. Have you ever pondered the fact that the Creator of the Universe chose to bring forth His only begotten Son through a poor, simple peasant girl? Mary did. Luke 2:19 says she “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” I have set my heart to storing up these treasures as well. Jewels of priceless wisdom and heavenly reward, unearthed deep in the lowly, loamy, messy place of motherhood.

I had a friend tell me a few months ago that as she was praying for me, God told her that He sees me as a “Golden Harvest.” The word powerfully touched my spirit, because in this season of my life especially, I have not felt very fruitful or successful in my “bumper crop yields” in the kingdom of God. I see weeds, thorny thistles, scanty growth, and plants so dull in color that they seem anything but golden to my eyes. But have you noticed that God likes to choose the weak over the strong? The soiled and stained over the clean? It is our God who chooses a prostitute for a Bride and then proceeds to call her pure, undefiled and beautiful. And beneath His shining light, she becomes perfect, clean, loved. He is doing so for me. I am His Golden Harvest.

So wives, mothers, young women and old – let us lay hold of these promises of God to our hearts. When you’ve got nothing left, when the devil whispers lies to your heart, when you feel insignificant and overlooked – LISTEN!

My grace is sufficient for you, Daughter, for My strength is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).

I have chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and I have chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty (1 Cor. 1:27).

So rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away!
O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the cliff,
Let me see your face, let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely (Song of Songs 2:13-14).

You are My Golden Harvest. So sing, My Daughter. Sing your song from the field.

Looking forward to sharing more in the days ahead.

Faithfully,

Song

Hidden away in her secret garden
Pleasing her husband, raising her children
Singing her song while she’s cleaning her kitchen
She loves well

She’s finding her way, finding her treasure
Keeping her home has become her pleasure
She knows her success is only measured
By how she loves well

Invisibly picking up the toys off the floor
Hospitably willing to open her door
To welcome the weary, the sinner, the poor
She loves well

Beauty is judged not by image or charm
But by a gentle and quiet fear of the Lord
Secretly earning eternal rewards
See how she loves well

If the world only valued simplicity
If greatness was found in humility
Who would the highest honor receive?
The one who loves well