God's Got This

Slowly I am learning to nag God instead of my husband.  Because nagging my husband gains absolutely nothing.

Every year we participate in the Angel Tree program at church; this year the boys are old enough to understand what we are doing, so I’ve been talking to them about raiding their piggy banks to pay for the gift.  The trees went up Sunday, and on the way to church I reminded them once again that we would be choosing a child to bless.  Yes, I know we are not exactly in a position of wealth…because we aren’t.  Yes, I know we can’t afford my own heart’s desire; to stay home with our kids.  But I want my children to learn to give of themselves, to give sacrificially. 

My husband exploded.  “Give, give give.  I’m tired of giving.  Let someone else give.”  The tirade continued into church.  “We have tons of bills.  We are one disaster away from poverty ourselves, but OK, give the rest of our money away.”  It was the old James, back with a vengeance.  The accusations about my spending, the complaints about how hard he works, the fury at the idea of giving something away.  I ignored him, because what else could I do?

Arguing with him in that condition does nothing but create a larger disaster, so I breathed a prayer and didn’t say another word.  “God, if we are supposed to take part in this, You will have to change his heart.”

We left church on Sunday without choosing an ornament, and in the midst of a tirade about Violet’s sleepy cries from the backseat, he turned the radio on and turned it up. 

And lo and behold, the radio show was sharing the testimony of a young woman whose entire life was changed by the mentor who sponsored her family through Angel Tree.  It was the first time she experienced love in her young life…the first time she experienced trust.  As an adult, she still breaks down in tears when she talks about what that gift meant to her.

She hadn’t yet finished her story when James muttered, “OK fine.  We’ll buy a damn gift.”

Which I think is code for “God’s got this.”  

Ten Percent

A little over three years ago, I visited with an older couple at church who prayed over some major issues I’d been struggling with.  They were encouraging and kind, but I didn’t see any immediate impact from their prayers.  In fact, I didn’t see an impact at all.  One of the things they prayed was that God would provide other believers – men of God with a passion for their families – to mentor and encourage my husband at work.  I’ve echoed that prayer for years now, and…nothing. 

Another battle that has marked our entire marriage is our feeling about tithing.  Call it guilt or good training, but I’ve almost always tried to hold to the ten percent tithe.  Last winter, facing some extended time of work, I made the executive decision to bump up our monthly giving to almost the full ten percent.   Well, we didn’t exactly get a windfall, and when James found out in May how much we were giving, he was furious.  I was so distraught, I couldn’t remember how to log in to modify the gift, but in that moment, when I typed in the new numbers, God gave me peace.  He told me to honor my husband…that I didn’t have to give ten percent to be right with Him.  So I followed my husband’s directive and also prayed that God would change his heart about giving if we were supposed to give more.

Last night, we attended a leadership night at church, and we were given the chance to commit money to advance the ministry.  James had told me for weeks in advance that he had a number rolling around in his head; last night, he told me he was consistently woken up out of a dead sleep to that number.  I could tell he was wrestling with it; he wanted to include our current monthly giving in that number to make it less daunting.  So for once, I stepped back.  I handed the card to him to fill out, and did not look at it again.  At some point, he decided that God gave him that number and he needed to honor it.  He put the whole thing on the card. 

I can’t begin to tell you how big this is.  James doesn’t like to spend money on anything, and for a decade now I’ve listened to his tirades about churches asking for money.  And yet, the ministry of our church has touched him, and he wants to advance it.  My feelings are bittersweet.  We can afford to give this much, but after a year of struggling financially, I was looking forward to paying off some debt and loosening up.  And my salary is pretty crucial to our ability to afford what we committed, which pretty much means I won’t be staying home with the kids for three years.  If ever.  I can’t even think about that.  But last night while I was not sleeping, God showed me the change in James’ heart and reminded me of my prayer.  He answered it…in his time.  And not only that, He reminded me of those prayers for James to be surrounded by believers at work.  He has a Crossroads guy on his team now, and another working on the same floor.  One of them went to Man Camp with him.  As much as I want him to get the promotion he so deserves – sooner rather than later – he is suddenly surrounded by just the people he needs.  And so, God answered another prayer…in His time. 

Every day, a notification on my phone reminds me to look for God’s greatness and love.  I can’t help but think that I got to see just a glimmer of it today: a flash, a glance of His glory and His provision when I had long ago given up.  I feel surprising lightness...surprising for a person who has just made a major financial commitment in the face of great uncertainty.  I have to believe that comes from God.

Caleb is Four: On Giving Good Gifts

I am quite sure there is no joy quite like what you feel when you fulfill the desires of your child’s heart.  For the past month, I got the same response every time I asked Caleb what he wanted for his birthday.  “I want Rocky from Paw Patrol, with a truck that has lights and noises.”  Now we haven’t watched Paw Patrol in probably nine months, so I was pretty confused by his request.  I kept asking, thinking that it was a fluke thing.  His answer never varied.  Think Ralphie in A Christmas Story, only Caleb never copped to the football.  Finally I decided that since it was HIS birthday gift, the right thing to do was to honor his request.  I guess I should be grateful that he wasn’t asking for a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock, and this thing that tells time, because the answer would have been markedly different.  Fortunately, Rocky is cheap and well within our budget from Amazon, so I ordered it. 

                Fast-forward to this morning, Caleb’s first morning as a four-year-old.  I cannot tell you how excited he was.  He literally hovered over the floor, vibrating with excitement.  “Mommy, am I four now?  Am I really four?”  I am quite convinced that no child ever has been so excited about a birthday.  His dad pointed out the presents stacked up on the buffet.  I had planned to let him open the book this morning, but his dad let him open the present of his choice.  He grabbed the biggest package (because, of course) and tore into it.  “Mommy, it’s ROCKY!!!!” he squealed.  I couldn’t get that toy out of the package quickly enough.  He opened the back hatch, lifted the front, drove it up and down the hall and through the kitchen, watching the headlights illuminate the wall.  He begged to show it to Miss Sue at school, so I let him bring it under the condition that it could not stay.  I listened to garbage truck sounds all the way to school, and watched the headlights light up his face in the rear-view mirror.  As if anything could compare to the glow he already had.  Miss Sue obligingly asking appropriate questions and admired his treasure, oohing and ahhhing over the place where the garbage goes and the lifelike sounds.  Eventually, Caleb agreed that Rocky could leave with me, but only if I took him to school and kept an eye on him.  So here I am, at a high school, with a Paw Patrol toy on my desk.  My students find it hilarious, but that little toy makes me happy every time I look at it.  Why?  Because I was able to give my little guy the desire of his heart, and my heart soars every time I think of his unfiltered joy. 

                It is moments like this where I feel God nudge my heart.  For years (like, all my life) I have struggled to “feel” God’s love the way other people describe.  I want to feel it, to be impacted and wrecked and brought to my knees.  But I am so jaded, so hardened, that I simply can’t imagine God wanting to fulfill my desires.  Desires are bad, right?  They are meant to be denied, thwarted, concealed.  Acknowledging that I have a desire is like asking for rejection; I keep my heart hidden so it can’t be hurt.  Admitting that God has possibly given me those desires is even harder.  But God has set himself up as this amazing father, and good fathers delight in their children.  The only – truly the only time – my heart begins to grasp my Father’s love is when it bubbles over with love for my children.  Is it possible that God delights in my joy the way I delight in Caleb’s birthday morning surprise?  Is it possible that God has given me these children to teach my heart to feel His love? 

                If Caleb is a picture of the love my Father has for me, I am far too hardened in my faith, far too hardened by throwing my hands up to protect from blows that never come…that were never even threatened, far too hardened to anticipate anything but pain.  My father promises to give good gifts, and I expect curses.  What tiny faith I have.  “You fathers, if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead?  Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion?  Of course not!  So if you sinful parents know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him.” 

                I pray that I can become as childlike as my little boy, asking my Father in hope, waiting in expectation, and delighting when God provides.  Only He can soften my heart, so that I can offer my delight – my joy – as a sacrifice of praise.