13 Lessons #6 Cultivate Discernment

Lessons #6:  Cultivate discernment over the “mental basket”

Our teens have been troubled by this verbiage that keeps popping up amidst their friends and acquaintances when rationalizing certain music on the Ipod, certain movies watched or books read:  all things going unalterably into the mental basket, instructing the heart, forging an image of “normal”.  The same persons seem ever to be drifting away from solid moorings in Christ, but don’t really notice, and would defend to the death their rights to put these things into their “basket”.  And then they’ll invariably say, “It’s fine; I’m viewing it through a Christian worldview lens.”

We got into a fascinating discussion on this during a recent trip, one morning just taking the time for talking rather than running off on some new inspiration (yes, sometimes it is better to just talk about what we are learning in our devotions and sharing things we each are thinking about, despite our propensity to set off on wild adventures).

Wise husband hadn’t been in on the initial discussions but he brought diamond insights now:

“What is the purpose of a lens?   First, to ask the question presupposes that lenses exist for a directed purpose.  If it is a microscope lens, the purpose  is to examine more closely; to look at the substance of.  If it is a binocular lens, it is to see things in the distance more closely; to make that which is obscure more evident to the naked eye; to understand details or to identify.  A dirty lens is worthless, for the very value of a lens is to see more clearly”.  All this he pointed out.  So we discussed the analogy.

Those who apply the concept of a lens to questionable music or movies or some types of books say, “Well, I view it through a Christian lens/Christian worldview.”  And yet their argument is actually meant to use that as an excuse for taking in all manner of media without forethought, or afterthought,  or discernment.  Their intended goal is to enjoy these things without any further attempt at examination,  as if the music/movie drops through the lens into their brain and automatically turns into something else, something benign or harmless, because the lens was a magical “Christian world view”.  But this belies the word.  They are not  examining more closely, or it would become evident that the movie lies about God’s reality.  They are not looking at the substance of, or they would realize that song is at war with how God has created women, men, marriage, morality.  They are not bringing things that are distant closer in order to understand more about God’s character and our sinfulness and need of Him.  They are not saturated in Scripture so that which is obscure can be made more evident to those who have eyes to see; they have not exercised powers of discernment that allow them to assimilate the meat of God’s wisdom, to understand details of His ways, to identify His thoughts and think them after Him.

What I do see happening is that they come into a naturalness of habit with these songs, artists, movies, and cultural trappings that is nothing short of “walking, standing, sitting with the ungodly”.  A settling in of what is normal soon morphs their understanding even all the while they insist they are seeing through the Christian lens.  But God has said that it is He who allows a darkened understanding.  Chilling words He speaks when He says He will “choose their delusions”.  One of the things I believe we should dread the most is the gradual darkening of understanding that comes through allowing sin into our lives little bit by little bit, like the smudges that occur on our lenses.  And we will not even know when our understanding begins to be darkened, for that is part of the very blindness, lack of clear thinking.

Recently we watched with our teens a ragingly popular movie that is largely uncontested. Yes, admittedly, it is part of a group of movies highly engaging to young men—understandable, and not overtly awful.  But what does it teach a young man about a woman completely severed from all relationships and autonomous—that becomes endearing to us as we watch her adorable self, despite her sleeping wherever?  And the brute force with which he defends his life and personal liberty even against legitimate law enforcement—as compared to the WWII movie we watched soon after that, equally as violent but portraying men who were giving their lives, their selves, for the sake of others, for others’ freedom? 

Do our children learn to think about what they are being taught to love?  To accept?  To treat as normal?  How does it match up with our pursuit of holiness?  With what God reveals of His thoughts?  Does it tell the truth?  Sometimes pretty gritty stories at least tell the truth.  Sometimes family friendly movies lie like a carpet.  Shocking what gets under the radar and we don’t even see that it is teaching our hearts that which God has expressly spoken against.

Our mental basket does have a way of defining who we are becoming.

"Earth's entertainments are like those of Jael:  her left hand brings me milk; her right, a nail." --CH Spurgeon

All Things at the Time They are Ripe

Oh, how I loved this reminding insight, and how I was convicted by it!--
  

God is never slow from His standpoint, but He is from ours, because impetuosity and doing things prematurely are universal weaknesses.

God lives and moves in eternity, and every little detail in His working must be like Himself, and have in it the majesty and measured movement, as well as the accuracy and promptness of infinite wisdom.  We are to let God do the swiftness and we do the slowness. The Holy Spirit tells us to “be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath,” that is, swift to take in from God, but slow to give out the opinions, the emotions of the creature.

We miss a great many things from God by not being slow enough with Him.  Who would have God change His perfections to accommodate our whims?  Have we not had glimpses into God’s perfections, insight into wonderful truths, quiet unfolding of daily opportunities, gentle checks of the Holy Spirit upon our decisions or words, sweet and secret promptings to do certain things?

There is a time for everything in the universe to get ripe—and to go slow with God is the heavenly pace that gathers up all things at the time they are ripe.

--Lettie Cowman

What they win, who wait for God, is worth waiting for.  Going slow with God is our greatest safety.

Christ, Our All (#4, part 2)

from Alexander Smellie, on what Christ and the Cross means to our hearts and our lives:

“And there was the hiding of His power.”  Habakkuk 3:4

In outside nature and the moral law, the two books whose pages Habakkuk reads, there is simply the shadow of God, nothing more than an outline and a glimpse of what He is.  The sun shone long ago, and it shines today, over the weird wilderness mountains of Teman and Paran; but He is much brighter than the sun.  The commandment given on Sinai is holy and just and good; but He is better than the commandment.  These are but broken lights of Him, these are but rays streaming from His hand; and He is more than they.

I take His power.  My thoughts reel when I try to conceive the magnitude of the universe; and I know that He Who made and fills it must be the Lord God Omnipotent.  And since it is nobler to reign over souls than constellations, His law speaks more loudly still of His sovereign supremacy.  Yet here is merely the hiding of His power.  For there is something which baffles and defies the God of Nature and the God of Sinai.  It is my sin.  I need a stronger God than this, or I shall be undone.

I take His wisdom.  Like Lord Bacon, “I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend, the Talmud, and the Alkoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind.”  And His precept, simple and comprehensive, broad and high and deep, bears the same testimony to the wise-heartedness of its Author.  Yet these are the hiding of His wisdom.  The Lord of marvelous worlds and perfect statutes—He does not know how to speak a word in season to me who am weary.  It is a task beyond Him.

I take His justice.  Storm and flood and earthquake tell me that it is a fearful thing to fall into His hands. And His taintless law condemns my transgression in unrelenting tones.  Yet, despite these voices, He hides His justice.  There is an awfuller display of the righteousness of God than that which nature in its angriest mood can furnish.  There is a mount more terrible that Mount Sinai, with its blackness and darkness and tempest, before which Moses feared and quaked.

I take His love.  In the sweetness of spring, the luxuriance of summer, the wealth of autumn, the stillness of winter, I gather messages of it.  And had I only been willing and obedient, how abundantly his commandment had crowned me with it!  And yet there is the hiding of His glory, the hiding of His love.  Nature can repair a broken field; she cannot comfort a broken spirit.  The law has its reward for the holy; but it has bitter and hopeless death for me, the chief of sinners.

I cry out for a God Whom neither the starry heavens nor the unerring law can disclose.  In time and eternity I am beggared, disowned, dying, dead, unless He hears me and quiets my cry.

BUT IN CHRIST THE VEIL IS DONE AWAY!

Blessed be His name!  God answers my cry.  He hides Himself in the sunrise and in the law; but He opens His very soul to me in the Gospel.  Teman and Paran and Sinai have their lessons to teach and their uses to serve.  But I turn from them to another hill outside Jerusalem, where the Cross was raised, and where the Only-Begotten Son loved me and gave Himself up for me.  The Old Testament mountains bow their towering heads in humility and worship before little Calvary, and its glory far exceeds theirs.

Is it God’s power I would learn?  I stand undismayed among the thunders of nature.  I keep a proud, determined invincible spirit before the threats and warnings of the broken commandment.  “I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.”  But I behold God in Christ, obeying where I was disobedient, suffering my death, forgiving my crimson sin.  It is His crowning argument.  It is His mightiest appeal.  It vanquishes me.  My will of adamant is melted and overcome.

Is it God’s wisdom I would see?  I have the lesson-book of the natural world; and I lift my eyes from the writing on the tables of stone.  There is more adequate proof that He is wise.  I find it in the life and death of Jesus.  Here he prepares the path by which His banished can return.  Here He honors every claim and demand of righteousness.  Here He stills all the anxious questions of my awakened conscience, and breathes into me the peace that passes understanding.

Is it God’s justice I would read?  Fire and hail, scorching sun and blighting frost, proclaim the folly of trifling with Him.  The book of His statutes denounces His wrath against the sinful.  But I look into the manger cradle, and I stand with Mary and John under the Cross; and in the lowliness and shame of His dear Son, the Shepherd of my soul, I discern best how holy He is.  Ah!  When these things are done in the Green Tree, how can I doubt the inflexible justice of the Lord?

Is it His love I would grasp?  Let me hear the Father assure me that for Jesus’ sake I have a place among the children.  Let me consider the Son seeking me across the deep waters and through the dark night.  Let me unbar my being to the Spirit, that He may end the days of my mourning and may fill my present and my future with rest. Teman and Paran and Sinai cannot publish a grace so unspeakable and a love so sufficient.  Bethlehem and Golgotha are more wonderful than they.

No longer does the Lord my God curtain and hide His glory.  He tells me His name.  He shows me His heart.  He draws me and I follow on.  The Only-Begotten Son, He hath declared Him.

13 Lessons, #4 Christ the Preeminent Thing

Lesson #4 (but truly Lesson #1):  Christ is Preeminent; forgetting this always leads us and our children astray 

If I write 13 or if I write 100 lessons learned, there is a lesson which stands out above all else like the snow-peaks piercing the sky far above our access in all its reality but open to the feasting of the soul nonetheless, and it is this:  Christ is the preeminent thing.

I can surge forward like the ocean tide thinking of words to say that express the agonizing and the winsome lessons learned and being still learned, or I can recede too like the tide with failures and woe in the blackness of my own shortcomings and omissions that render me silent, the tide sucking the waves inward .  But in all that is said or not said, one thing remains that stands apart from our experiences and occasional insights.  Christ has accomplished everything for us that is good.  That which brings light, that which is the very Light itself, He it is who planted the seeds and nurtures the blossoms and cares for the fruit and harvests His own, has done all things in us which yield good fruit.  And while discipline holds its place, and ten thousand words on child rearing or home schooling can be helpful in coloring in the picture, it is all His picture, His intentions, and His accomplishments. 

Beyond that, we can dream a thousand dreams, envision worlds and pursue accomplishments.  We can fulfill callings and we can learn and grow and become, but if any of this is not found in Christ it is drained of its power and purpose.

And beyond that, we can appear a wonderful person as seen by others even as we know our own sinful inclinations and singular shortcomings, we can raise fabulous children excelling in gifts and flashing bright as meteors; but if their life is not consciously hidden in Christ; if all they are and do is not a thank offering to the Christ who saved and fills them; if they know not that it is He who works change and growth and maturity in their lives, it is He who enables them to overcome their sin and to walk in power and purpose, it is He who loves them and gives them the love they need to love both their beloved and their enemies, then it has all been for nothing, this parenting enterprise.  For at the center of the universe of every relationship, every personality and every victory lies the very heart of the Savior who has written our design and our story before time constrained the centuries.

This has most practical applications when we help a child of 5 or 15 to see his or her sin.  What then is s/he going to do about it?  Are we going to insist s/he knows better and must do better?  Or are we going to point them to the power of the cross, our Christ?  If they begin to follow their own way, are we going to point to Christ?- or talk more about the law and how they should be acting?  One who wrote quite excellent books on raising up godly men who walk in strength and honor said to us this last weekend that he wishes at the end of each chapter he would have pointed to the hope and power and source-reality in Christ.  No matter how much we say about how things ought to be, there is only one Source of anything truly holy, ultimately noble:  the Holy Spirit, working in those that the Cross’s power has touched and that Christ has claimed for His own in bringing many sons to glory, in His image, with His work and His covering and His intentions.  We walk in His light or we struggle in our own self-made torchlight made of the burning embers of pride that leaves much in ash after all.

And for what purpose do we labor?  Our own well-laid plans?  Our vision for our children?  Or to relinquish them to an all-powerful, all-loving and all-sufficient Christ who can use their fully surrendered lives in His way and time?  Intensely practical for the words we say, the actions we take, a hundred choices every day. 

More poetically, I’ve been pondering Alexander Smellie’s treatment of this issue.  Who is Christ in relation to nature’s revelation of God?  In relation to the law of God?  He is a little hard to follow until what he is saying comes clear:  all that we see in nature still cannot assuage our sin or provide ultimate comfort, even when it reveals so much to us of God’s character.  All that we understand and follow of His law does not help us to overcome, even as it reveals His mind on how we then should live.  We need Christ, the Person, His thoughts towards us, His sacrifice for us, His daily reality in us, to accomplish all these things on the very deepest levels of our inner workings of heart, mind, and wellspring of action.  Stay with him and embrace the treasures here.  I had to read it a number of times to grasp the dawning of understanding: we can appreciate and embrace all these other things as good, but only when we live clinging to Christ and treasuring our relationship with Him will we be filled with the things we lack, whether power in prayer, peace that passes understanding, wisdom in parenting, or joy amidst the trials that pierce our souls.  Yes, even that.

"The godly man is a gospeled man. He has seen who he is in Christ, he is moved by what God has done for him in Christ. If I don’t get this part, all the rest will just be a self-salvation project, an exercise in self-righteousness."  --Jared C. Wilson

Tomorrow:  Alexander Smellie’s passage, part II

13 Lessons #3: To Love the River of Saints

Thirteen Lessons, Lesson #3:  It is important to know and to love those in family bloodlines and in spiritual bloodlines

On a wild coast of the North Sea Scottish Islands stands a sea wall covered in orange lichen.  Atop this sea wall is a stone fence, with pillars at the gates that mark its date: 1732.  The parish church has crumbled into just a few stacks of stones, but surrounding it are gravestones of generations of maybe a dozen families that worshipped there, walking down between the fields each Lord’s Day morning faithfully to come before their Lord and offer praise.  Over the hill and across golden fields lies the manse, just as it has for 250 years.  Our childrens’ great-great-great grandparents farmed those fields, walked that path to church.  We spent a couple of hours carving grey lichens off names to discover as many family gravestones as we could, dating back to 1820.  The ones lying beneath the sod, weathered by many a winter and now covered from human eyes, we knew not where they spoke of aunts, uncles, parents back further still.

We had seen a lot of amazing sights across the miles of Scottish moors and mountains, towns and ravishing cities.  But these moments were precious to our children.  Here, their familial bloodlines lifted voices in psalm and song.  Here, the names they bear tilled the land and perhaps laid these endless stone fences.  There, the dovecot built in the 1600’s was seen daily by eyes that had not yet known the begotten that would be our heritage, now known only through sepia photos from ages past.   It was a priceless moment, one of their favorite; moving, quiet, firmly planting them in the lines of their forefathers who had kept the faith, who had loved the same Christ, who had sung some of the same psalms they know, who had lived, loved, died.

We have other bloodlines, spiritual ones.  Intimately acquainting our children with them has been an immense blessing.  Teaching them to love these people, many who have given all their lives for the gospel, for their Christ, has brought alive whole new worlds for them.  Not only has it opened up the close realities of those living across the world as brothers and sisters in Christ, but it has opened up the precious witness of their words and actions as mentors, teachers, friends, to them.  Hudson Taylor, Elisabeth Elliott, Don Richardson, Cameron Townsend, Deitrich Bonhoeffer, Nate Saint, Darlene Deibler-Rose, Amy Carmichael, the list goes on and on and we could reach a hundred just with a little trip downstairs to the library.  These each have become beloved friends, fellow heirs of the richness of our inheritance in Christ.  Their words and their actions have discipled us and our children over many years.  We know them now in part.  One day we will talk with them.  Of course, I’ve not forgotten that foremost are the flesh and blood realities of the saints of Scripture who walked this earth with hopes and joys and sorrows such as we.  A continuum of the river of saints are as much the acquaintances of our children’s childhood as their own aunts and uncles, more enduring and more powerful than many friendships. 

I am reading Safely Home by Randy Alcorn, and a conversation in it reminded me of how distracted we can be in our modern culture toward the famous who have nothing to offer us, or how focused we can be toward uncovering the vast riches still being uncovered by those famous in their faith (add Jeremiah Burroughs, Thomas Goodwin, Thomas Boston, John Owen, and a few dozen other Puritans who deeply understood the human soul).  The conversation is between Li Quan, a Chinese Christian and Ben, a careless American businessman, college roommates at Harvard 20 years prior:

“Some say there are five to ten thousand more new Christians in China every day.  There are more new Christians than Bibles.  No matter how many Bibles come in, it is never enough.”

“I probably have three on my bookshelf at home,” Ben said.  What he didn’t say was he couldn’t remember the last time he’d read any of them.

“Chinese proverb: ‘Distant water no help to put out fire close at hand.’  There are those who would gladly go without food for weeks in exchange for the spiritual food sitting on your shelf.  In a country of more than a billion, even ten million Bibles would only be a drop in the bucket.”

“It would take a lot of money to provide that many Bibles.”

“Hudson Taylor said: God’s work done in God’s way never lacks God’s supply.”

“Who’s Hudson Taylor?”

You never heard of Hudson Taylor?”  Quan looked dismayed.

“Was he one of Elizabeth Taylor’s husbands?”

“Who is Elisabeth Taylor?”

“You’ve never heard of Elizabeth Taylor?”

“Hudson Taylor was the founder of China Inland Mission.  He led to Yesu my great-grandfather Manchu when he was a boy.  Hudson Taylor performed eye surgery on him.  Did you know that on some days he did two hundred eye surgeries?  I suppose you did not know, since you have never heard of him.  But I am also ignorant—I do not know this Elizabeth Taylor.  Was she also a great missionary?”

“Not exactly.”

“Manchu lived in Hangzhou, first Headquarters for China Inland Mission.”

“Hangzhou?  Is that why you say you’re from Hangzhou, even though you’ve never been there?”

“Where our ancestors are from, we are from.  Li Quan’s life did not begin with Li Quan.”

“But it didn’t begin with your great-grandfather, either.”

“We choose someone in our family history who sets a direction for the family line.  Li Manchu was the first Li to follow Yesu.  That is why I am from Hangzhou, and so is [my son].”

“He’s never been there either, right?”

“No.  Why is that important?” 

Ben laughed.  “It just seems strange.”

“To me, America is strange.  Each person acts as if his life begins and ends with himself.”

“I can’t tell you where my great-grandfather lived,”, Ben said, “or what he did, or even what his name was.”

Ben squirmed at what he saw in Quan’s eyes – pity.

 

.

Pray On

“Prayer can obtain everything; it can open the windows of heaven, and shut the gates of hell; it can put a holy constraint upon God, and detain an angel until he leaves a blessing; it can open the treasures of rain, and soften the iron ribs of rocks til they melt into tears and a flowing river…it can arrest the sun in the midst of its course, and send the swift-winged winds upon our errands; and to all these strange things and secret decrees, add unrevealed transactions which are above the stars...

“When Hudson Taylor was asked if he ever prayed without any consciousness of joy, he replied: “Often:  sometimes I pray on with my heart feeling like wood; often, too, the most wonderful answers have come when prayer has been a real effort of faith without any joy whatever.”  “--Lettie Cowman

“I never prayed sincerely and earnestly for anything but it came; at some time—no matter how distant the day—somehow, in some shape, probably the last I should have devised, it came.”—Adoniram Judson

Do We Go To Him First?

“I think we dishonor God when we go to the creature and make Him of secondary consideration.  If we only applied to God first, and left Him to make whatever He pleased of the creature, waiting patiently for His answer, we should much sooner have our prayers answered, and in the very best way possible.  Now, do we go to Him first, with all our cares little and great, or do we go to the poor arm of flesh?  In this thing we are verily guilty, therefore the Lord leaves us to suffer for our want of faith and full confidence in Himself.  He is a jealous God – jealous of His honor and glory.  Oh to be wise in all our transactions with God, for it is with Him we have to do moment by moment, and He has to do with us.  “My son, give me thy heart”—the whole heart—the heart right with God.  Dear friend, I believe thus living, we should enjoy more of heaven upon earth than we do.  We are so prone to forget that the Lord is in everything that concerns us.  Our concerns are His concerns.  We are one, never to be disunited.—one in time and one in eternity.  The 8^th chapter of Romans begins with no condemnation and ends with no separation…Oh, we do wretchedly live below our high and mighty privileges.  May He be pleased to put more life in our souls…”  --Mary Winslow, Heaven Opened, 1864

Thirteen Lessons from Thirteen Years

Well, an even dozen is too unexciting.  When we buy new dishes we always buy 13 in case one breaks.  (For some reason this does not work with bowls. A dozen or so years ago we bought 13 bowls.  We now have one left.) And as my twelve year old daughter said about turning twelve last year, “Twelve is the most uninteresting of numbers.  Eleven was fantastic; thirteen will be a new era; but, well, twelve is…just twelve.” 

Thirteen years of home schooling is actually what I am talking about.  It’s also why this blog grows a little scarce around September.  All those lesson plans I should have done all summer long?  Well, we were kayaking underneath waterfalls and jumping off cliffs and celebrating anniversaries and growing gardens.  We’re still doing those same things but the 200 foot waterfall coming down on us is made of words and facts and figures and brain force, the cliff jumping is landing us in pools of pages and protractors, the anniversaries are more “can you believe it’s another school year again!!! Where did October come from, anyway??  Didn't we just have one of those?” And the gardens are the fertile minds that keep growing.  It is a cacophony of learning, with the music playing and the lights on and the brains whirling.

So I got it in my head that when I had nothing better to do (why, half of my ironing will just disappear once I put away summer clothes and bring out winter!!) I would write down thirteen things I’ve learned from these wonderful thirteen years.  They are not in order of importance, because I only know what three of them are yet.

First lesson:  Build a family identity of Books.

Don’t leave home without a book; teach them not to leave home without a book.  That wait in line or dentist office, why, you can get through 10 pages.  It adds up.  Two hours of work are done at piano lessons waiting for siblings.

When the kids were little and I was worried about airport layovers and car rental waits and long drives, we always had new books.  We’ve travelled a lot, and books defined our trips.  The kids can remember what we were reading aloud when we were where.  The memories of the places are enhanced by the adventures of the mind they were experiencing while feasting the eyes on amazing things.  It makes the senses more alive.  Some of these times would have been tedious, long, and very trying, except that their minds were in the lands of Hans Brinker or Treasure Island or The Golden Goblet.  Many of these were books on tape I loaded on an Ipod before we left.

When we are waiting for our food at a restaurant, which always takes forever when you have five, six, or more, ordering, we feel robbed if we don’t have a book to read aloud.  If we do, the time passes quickly.

One year when we drove an hour to church, we read Doug Bond's excellent youth trilogies on the Covenanters.  We'd roll into the parking lot amidst cries of protest about stopping at a cliffhanger.  And the pleasure of it was, he himself was there, and when we'd walk in he'd ask, "So where are you now?" 

Many characters from books have been memorized for repeating classic lines, or for some shorthand mutual understanding in our conversations.  We have family jokes taken from our readings.  Calvin and Hobbes are an integral part of our viewing of daily life.  Shared experiences.

We read broadly; theological books and missionary biographies are littered like most families’ pop cans through our home, our years, our family worship and our conversations.  Traveling calls for a gripping story or a hilarious one.  When the kids were little we read those fairly silly Enid Blyton mysteries with Kiki the parrot, on vacations.  This last summer we read “A Dog’s Life” – occasionally irreverent or inappropriate but vastly funny, (along with “A Year in Provence” and “Tujour Provence”); and Kisses From Katie, about a young woman from Tennessee who moved to Uganda and adopted thirteen orphan girls (recommended).  And the kids have finally learned that when my voice encounters a certain brief hesitation and vagueness that there was something I found necessary to skip right on over if it was not suited to their intake.  We also have loved the Swallow and Amazon series by Arthur Ransome.  All twelve.  The classy little sailing skiff we built one year as a family at the Center for Wooden Boats is, of course, named Swallow, and our people named themselves after the characters, hoisted the flag and rowed to far flung adventures on our little pond.

Our son worked all summer for neighbors, doing landscaping and yard work.  The carharrt gear doesn’t go with the Ipod image, does it?  But he got through Moby Dick, Count of Monte Cristo, The Robe, three or four WWII books, and half a dozen others I can’t remember.  Then we went through Veritas’s Omnibus discussions of some of the books – priceless to understand where the author was coming from and his worldview.  Our younger daughter does the same while ironing or cooking.

Some of those things that fall through the cracks yearly but are really important, can be read aloud daily over lunch.  This year we are covering three or four daily, as our eldest is a senior and all their book lists are already too long.  I just read from each one for about 15 minutes.  One we are immensely enjoying is GK Chesterton’s In Defense of Sanity.  Talk about having a root beer float for lunch!!

Second Farewell

After losing his wife Denise earlier this year, RC Jr. just said goodbye to his 14 year old disabled daughter, who has gone to be with her Savior.  She has been made perfect.  She leaves behind sorrowing  sisters and brothers and father that she had taught something about the childlike wonder of God (Called To Wonder was written about this).  RC’s blog post was simple yet profound as he sat in the hospital with her earlier this summer and thought of his children alone at home.  Some time ago I wrote about how hard it is to see our children walk through difficult times.  I love what RC Jr.  wrote about this very topic and want to share his words, in answer to thinking about why his heart was heavy:

“Because I don’t trust my Father as I ought. I know that the fear that raced through me for those long hours when I didn’t know if she would make it, that fear was medicine for my soul. That is, I know that the immediate hardship I have been through this week is strong plant food for spiritual fruit. I trust Him to break my heart for the sake of making me more like Him. I trust in turn that He loves my little girl with a perfect love, that she, because she is my spiritual better, feels His loving arms holding her every day, in sickness and in health.

“It’s my other children I weep for. When their mother was dying, they had, by and large, their father with them. When she passed, I was there. The children have their physical needs cared for. The older children are amazing- giving, loving, and diligent. Meals are being brought in. We have help for this need and that. But my children, who love their sister as tenderly as their dad does, worry without me there. They have no mother to comfort them. I am not there to remind them how to trust, to model faith before them. That this breaks my heart, however, reveals my awful lack of faith.

“I am here and not there because He has brought this to pass. I am here for Shannon’s sake, for her good. I am here for my own sake, for my good. And I am here for the sake of Darby, Campbell, Delaney, Erin Claire, Maili, Reilly and Donovan. My Father knows what each of my children need. He knows how to grow the fruit of the Spirit in each of them. He knows precisely what they each need to become more like Jesus. And He has the power to bring this to pass. What they need right now if for me to be here.

“Loss of a mother, worry for a sister are not emotional meteorites hurtling haphazardly toward the psyches of my children. They are the plans He has for them, plans to prosper them and not to harm them, plans to give them hope, and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). Which, by His grace, are the same plans He has for me. By His grace I will hope in Him and praise Him, for the help of His countenance (Psalm 42:5).”  --RC Sproul Jr.

Pray for this precious family as they grieve this second great loss of a beloved one in the space of a few months.