Home Mission Field Continues

I have two blogs.  For the last several months I have focused on this one, Unconventional Catherine.  Since October 2009 I have had a blog home called Home Mission Field. On that blog I have documented our journey of homeschooling and family.  I stopped writing on the blog recently when I began Unconventional Catherine.

I am at a different place in life.  Most of my children have grown and graduated.  I will be graduating my senior this coming Spring.  I only have one student left at home.  I have began college classes.  I have a grandson.  It seemed like the right time to begin a new blog. 

As much as I have enjoyed branching into new areas of writing, I still find myself going back to writing about homeschooling and education.  It is an area that I feel God called me to years ago, and one where my interests naturally veer.  I began posting posts on Unconventional Catherine about education and homeschooling, and I realized that I missed Home Mission Field.  I debated about going back and deleting Unconventional Catherine.  I debated about just sticking with Unconventional Catherine and not posting on Home Mission Field.  It has been something that I pondered over the last few weeks, but I have been so busy that I didn't come to any conclusions.

Over the last few days, as I have taken time for myself and a break from college work, I realize that both blogs serve a purpose.  So, I will, for the time being, write on both of them.  Some posts might overlap and be posted to both blogs.  Other posts might be more geared toward one purpose or another.  Eventually, I might combine the two and go back down to one blog.  For now, however, I am content with the ability to express myself through writing and blogging.  I like chronicling our journey in homeschooling.  By the time I finish homeschooling, I will have graduated four students and will have been homeschooling for eighteen years.  I want that documented!  I want to be able to go back through our adventures and see how far we have come.  It is already so fun to read about the things we did in the first couple of years.

My Home Mission Field can be found at https://homemissionfield.blogspot.com/. 

Leaving a Spiritual Legacy

I wrote the following blog post in November 2011 on my homeschool blog, Home Mission Field.  Much has changed since 2011 in our family.  Three of my children are now adults.  One graduates this spring.  The baby is now a ten year old. My beautiful grandmother passed away a little over a year after I wrote this post.  She is still missed today.  There have been many ups and downs that I couldn't have foreseen, even if it was only six years. The heart of the blog still remains.  How we are and who we are speaks loudly.  While I have been humbled by many experiences over the years, I still know that the legacy I want to leave is a Godly one.

Leaving a Spiritual Legacy

November 22, 2011

As Thanksgiving Day nears, I have been busily preparing for the family gathering that occurs yearly.  It is a time of family, food, and memories.  Then, following Thanksgiving Day, we enter into the Christmas Season.  There we have established all sorts of traditions and memory makers.  I was encouraged in my reading recently about the importance of these memories in creating a legacy for our children and their children.

We all will leave an inheritance for our children in some way, shape, or form.  Whether it is a Godly inheritance or not is up to us.  Whether they accept it or not will be up to them.  With all the traditions we have in our family, I am grateful that, since my husband and I have begun to follow Christ, we have desired to incorporate many Godly traditions into our lives.

GOD'S WORD

Some of those traditions were natural.  On Christmas Eve, my husband reads the Christmas Story from the Bible.  But reading the Word to our children once a year isn't enough.  We read to them often... daily if possible, from the Bible or a Bible Story Book to our children.  Our homeschool is full of the Word of God, as well as Godly Christian stories.  It is important to us to train our children in the Word, for the Word of God is truth.  How will our children ever be able to tell the lies of Satan if they don't know what the Truth of God is?

PRAYER

Prayer is powerful!  We pray together often.  At first this was difficult.  As a new Christian, leading my children in prayer was kind of scary.  But now I make sure my children see and hear me praying, and that we are praying together.  My husband and I, last year, passed on life verses and blessings to our three oldest girls.  This was a powerful night that left a lasting impact on these girls, and it all happened in the sanctity of our home around our dining room table.  These life verses have been powerful in our children's lives already, and it has only been a year since they received them.

THOSE WHO WENT BEFORE US

I am blessed and honored that my children have gotten to spend time with their great-grandmother.  At 81, she has lived a full life.  Her health is not so great now, but for years she has been a foundation and an example of Christ in our lives.  She has served God for years.  When she was young, she was a traveling evangelist with her husband and a talented singer.  At the finish of my earthly work, I pray that God has blessed me with the impact that this little lady has.  Not everyone has the benefit of Christians in our family tree.  But, Christ can redeem that and make us the first of a line of followers of Christ.

RECORDING HISTORY

For many years I used to scrapbook.  While I one day hope to get back to that, I still take many pictures.  It is a joy to look back over the pictures from years past and remember our family times together.  Even simple, everyday moments seem special years later.  "Remember when we did that?"  "That was my favorite outfit then."  "Remember how long your hair was?"  " That was right after I got saved!"   These things are precious and will last forever.  When a fire happens, often the thing most mourned that can't be replaced are the pictures.  Take lots of them.  I have tons of pictures of things my children have done.  The pictures of them doing things for Christ have touched my soul.  Their children, my grandchildren, will get to see their parents and grandparents getting baptized, acting in the Christmas pageant, singing worship on stage, and even preaching!

TAKE THEM TO GOD'S HOUSE

It may seem obvious, but so many have strayed away from this vital principle in building a spiritual legacy.  Take your children to church!  Take them to where they can learn about God with other believers.  Encourage them to get involved in Kingdom work.  Whether your church is a building, a house church, or a Bible Study a couple times a week with friends, being with other believers, studying the Word and praying together, is something that is a gift from God.  This world wants to tear us down, but the fellowship with other true believers can be an amazing encouragement.

HOMESCHOOLING

As silly as it sounds to many, homeschooling has become part of our family legacy.  My grandmother homeschooled my uncle in a day and age when it wasn't acceptable.  She had to fight to get the right to teach her own child.  I felt moved to homeschool, and in obedience, set out on a path that has been life-changing for my entire family.  My husband and I have seen up close and personal the benefits of teaching our children at home.  My children now talk about homeschooling their own children.  I know this is not a choice everyone can make, but God led us here for His purposes.  One of those purposes, I believe, was to train both my children and me and my husband in the things of Christ that have been removed from public schools.  We can get back what has been taken from us as Christians.

MAKE NEW MEMORIES

As much as I love looking at the photo albums and scrapbooks and remembering the past, I can't forget to make new memories.  Time moves on.  Children grow up.  Even if our legacy hasn't been very Christ-honoring in the past, we can only ask for forgiveness and move on.  My husband and I weren't saved until my oldest was a young teenager.  Start fresh.  Anoint your home with prayer and oil.  Pray for your children.  Bless and not curse.  It may start with something as making dinner at the table a priority whenever possible.  Have a family game night or movie night.  Go to church.  Listen to some wonderful Christian music together.  Purposely make some good memories.  It doesn't have to cost a bundle either.  Every year we drive around and look at Christmas lights.  We make Christmas cookies together.  We look for others that we can bless, even if it is with a loaf of homemade bread or a plate of homemade cookies. 

MORE IS CAUGHT THAN TAUGHT

Yes, it is true.  More is caught than taught to our children.  Our lives, our examples, are important in the legacy we leave our children.  Do they see us praying?  Do they see us reading our Bibles?  Do they see us worshiping the living God?  Do they hear us talk of Christ?  Children tend to copy what they see.  They want to know they are loved.  They want to see examples of selflessness, of service, of peace, of contentment.  They need to see positive, Christian examples before them.  Do they see us being obedient to Christ?  Do they see us reaching out to the poor?  Do they see us caring for the needy?  So they see us having mercy and compassion on others?

I read somewhere that we are only remembered, on average, for three generations.  Stories from my great-grandparents are rare.  I know that they also served Christ in ministry.  I know that they were simple, humble people that sacrificed much to be obedient to God's calling.  I praise God for laying a foundation for my children years before I was even born.  Yet, will my great-grandchildren know about me?  Will the traditions and the spiritual legacy pass down from me to my future generations?  I don't control that, but I do know that I pray for it to be so.  My story isn't about me, it is about Christ.  Only He will endure.

A study was done on the life and legacy of Jonathan Edwards in 1900.  Jonathan Edwards was a preacher that gave the famous message, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God".  He touched many lives for Christ, and was a doting husband and father.  He blessed his children and spent time with each eleven of his children.  It was said that he would sit with them for an hour each day, talking and praying special blessings over each child.  When his line was researched there were 1400 descendants.
     - 285 were college graduates
     - 300 were preachers
     -13 were noted authors
     - 65 were college presidents
     - 100 were lawyers and one was a dean of a law school
     - 30 were judges
     - 56 were physicians and one was a dean of a medical school
     - 80 held public office
     - Three were United States Senators
     - One was a United States Vice President
     - One was Comptroller of the United States Treasury
     - Over 100 were Christian Missionaries

What legacy are you leaving for your future generations?

Why Levels are Better than Grades

Heart of Dakota: A Leveled Curriculum

I have noticed that, in homeschooling, there exists materials that are "level" based.  This means that they are for a range of ages or grades or developmental stages.  They aren't just for third graders or seventh graders, they are for ages 9 to 11, or grades 2 through 5.

I like this!

I have written previously about how my youngest daughter often is in more than one grade level at once.  My older daughter did the same thing through the years as she was being homeschooled. It was standard to use levels for education in the past.  Take the McGuffey readers, once a staple in the American school systems.  Students were in a "reader" level, not a "grade" level.  Those books, when placed into modern reading levels, go well into college level reading.  This explains why a student that mastered all the McGuffey readers was well-educated.  It also explains why we had a  96% literacy rate and why the farmers could easily grasp The Last of the Mohicans, Shakespeare, Dickens, and The King James Bible all through the 1800s and early 1900s.

The truth is that our modern education system has been dumbed-down in many ways.  And while that saddens me to a great degree, I can pick and choose from the modern educational methods and ones used in the past in deciding how to educate my children. In so many ways, homeschooling brings freedom in that my children can learn in ways that suit them best, with instruction that is individualized to a large degree.

Megan is in the second reader.  She could easily read into the third reader, because she is an advanced reader.  I placed her in the second reader so that her writing could catch up to her reading level.  She probably won't stay there long, as she is telling me that she is bored by the level.  The second reader corresponds to a 3rd through 5th grade reading levels.

I have discovered that this type of learning, progressing through levels, or mastery learning, works in nearly every subject.  We have been doing mastery learning in many different ways this year.  I have a book list sorted by reading levels.  I have math sorted by levels.  Even grammar is sorted by levels.  She works slowly, methodically, through each level, gaining skills and not simply grade levels.

 Many of the homeschool curriculum sellers know that mastery learning works.  They write their materials to span grades and ages, easy to customize, with a focus on skills and concepts, not specific to a restrictive narrow age and grade level.

The modern system sets skills they want students to master every year.  The problem is that if a student struggles in an area, they are considered "behind."  If a student can easily master the standards, they are considered "advanced."  Most students fall in the middle, where they can easily master some concepts and struggle in others.  The truth is that, if left to master one concept at a time, taking the time to master the harder to understand ones, then moving more quickly through the ones they can grasp easily, then a student will progress at a more natural pace, often a quicker pace.  They will have mastered concepts by taking them line upon line, precept upon precept.  They won't be rushing through the materials to keep up with a class.  There won't be any moving ahead until a concept is grasped.

This means that most of the time a child won't be moved on to the next skill level if he or she doesn't understand.  Occasionally, when a child is struggling, I have moved on to something different or reviewed other skills for awhile, and then gone back later to the area that was not understood.  I have found that this helps in many ways.  It gives the child's brain a rest from what they weren't grasping.  Sometimes their brain needs the rest.  Sometimes their brain simply needs to mature a little more to grasp the concept.  Nearly every time when I have taken a break and then gone back to the concept later, the child understands it without the struggle they had earlier.  In a classroom environment, this can't happen because the teacher has thirty students and an academic plan that decides what is taught and when it is taught.

Most often, in a homeschool situation, even if a mom has five children, she can easily stop a skill and review.  Working in levels helps in this because it is not a big deal to review skills for a bit before tackling a tough area.  The student is not going to get to a new level and be lost because he or she hadn't mastered the material in the previous level but understood enough to pass.  Incremental steps, a little at a time, building and building, until the student is working at an advanced level, has developed critical thinking skills, and is developmentally ready for the next step means that a child isn't going to feel inferior or superior based on ability alone.

I have seen over and over that learning this way works.  There is one thing that is key in this type of learning... no comparison.  In contemporary education, students are pitted against each other and measured against each other.  They are tested and tested and tested some more.  Competition does not always breed healthy learning.  With levels, students are in competition with no one.  They only have to master the material before them, engage in the learning, not feel that they have to do better or be better than the student next to them.  It becomes about learning, not competing.

This past semester has been one of experimenting more with "leveled-learning."  I took some time off of our regular curriculum with my ten year old, even though it is also level-based, to focus on increasing the level in the basics.  I like the results.  As my daughter makes her way through the McGuffey reader, she is mastering the vocabulary, the sentence structure, the spelling.  We are doing the same thing with dictation.  She is slowly mastering each lesson, one day at a time, growing and learning without pressure.  I even have been doing something similar for math, even backing up a bit and reviewing so that she has truly mastered the concepts before moving forward.

Soon, she will jump back into her curriculum.  She was struggling with the writing.  She will have had a semester of review and slow skill building, especially in her writing, to ensure that she can  more successfully get the most from her studies.  I am slowly moving her from the grammar program we have been using to one that has more writing, to build her skill level even more.  She has focused on increasing her dictation level and completed a lot of copywork through her McGuffey readers.  Mostly, she has done a lot of reading.  In the words of Sally and Clay Clarkson, "If you want your children to be good writers, have them read good books."

There is a sense of relief and peace that comes from leveled learning.  A child isn't pushed to conquer skills that they aren't ready for developmentally, but they are still learning and growing all the time.  They can come at a skill from multiple ways, or maybe just take a break from it for awhile.  Suddenly, their brain matures and they have that light bulb moment.  They learn easily and quickly what was taking them months to previously learn.  It is not uncommon for a student to jump the traditional grade levels in weeks or months.

 My youngest did this in her reading one summer.  She was involved in the summer reading program at the local library.  Every week I would take her to the library for books, and let her check out materials that interested her.  When fall came and we jumped back into her phonics program, she read through material she hadn't gotten to the previous school year as if she had already learned it.  I had her read every book in the program.  What should have taken a year, she completed in two weeks with ease.  Reading for fun had boosted her reading level by at least an academic school year in weeks.  She had been making steady progress in her skills, but giving her brain a break and coming at reading a different way, even if unintentionally, helped her to grow her skills quickly.

Leveled learning is not common, except in environments such as homeschools and tutoring centers.  It is very difficult to do such individualized, leveled learning in public or even private schools where the teachers have large class sizes.  However, it is not impossible, as this is how the one-room schoolhouses of yesteryear taught. 

The one-room schoolhouses had students of a variety of ages and levels in one classroom.  They were sorted by levels, slowly advancing in their level, progressing at the pace they learned best.  Not all children in the same levels were at the same pace in those levels, either.  It was very individualized, andA person who won’t read has no advantage over one who can’t read. students learned with some one-on-one time with instructors or older students in their levels of reading and math, and what amounted to unit studies for other areas such as history and science.  Some of the greatest minds came out of those one-room schoolhouses.  Even more, the rate of illiteracy was small.  There were immigrants and a few uneducated that couldn't read.  It was illegal for slaves to be taught to read in the South.  However, there was also an emphasis on Bible reading and understanding the Bible well was of utmost importance.  That couldn't happen if the population was illiterate.  As a result, the literacy rate was high.  Today, the literacy rate is around 85% in the United States, but the problem is not just literacy.  The problem is that many can read, but average materials are at a fifth grade reading level.  High School students struggle to understand our founding documents.  It is no wonder the Constitution isn't a document that is respected when many can't even understand it. 

Then there are the people that don't read.  Many people simply don't read and instead choose to gain their information though television and the internet.  In the words of Mark Twain, "A person who won’t read has no advantage over one who can’t read." One-third of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives.  80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.

What does this have to do with leveled learning?  Leveled learning keeps a child engaged because the learning isn't a cause for burnout.  A student may read a thousand books over the course of his or her education, but they are reading at a level they built up to, not one that is above their comprehension and skill level.  The result is that a student won't see reading as the enemy, as a drudgery.  While it might not be a favorite past-time of every student, a student that doesn't see learning and reading as a form of torture will be more apt to stick with what helped them succeed when they were younger.

We have done leveled learning since beginning homeschooling.  We will continue to take this route because it works.  Leveled learning individualizes education, creating a tailored experience, giving the student the ability to reach their potential.  While there are many motivations for homeschooling, this is one of the most important reasons to me.  If a child can learn and grow in healthy ways
, they are more able to be all the God calls them to be.

Traditions to Enjoy

My girls all came over tonight to decorate our Christmas Tree.  My oldest resurrected an old tradition of getting a new ornament for each family member each year.  She bought little wooden ones, and a stuffed giraffe for her son. 

We have gathered to do the tree together every year except one.  We waited until we could all gather, even waiting until right before Christmas one year.  We have decorated the tree on my husband’s birthday (five days before Christmas), and decorated it the day after Thanksgiving, such as this year.   The memories from this tradition alone are so special. 

When my husband and I first married, we were bringing together two families into one.  Blended families are common today, and they hold unique challenges.  I wanted to give my children and my marriage a chance to overcome the odds.  I knew that, if I wanted to create memories for my children, I had to be purposeful in my actions.  We created some traditions along the way, such as family anniversaries and holiday celebrations... even if it didn’t occur on the actual holiday!

I’m not always in the Christmas spirit. There have been tough years where I decorated the tree grudgingly.  There have been years where I looked at the tree and hated the rampant consumerism the holiday seems to represent.  There have even been years where I believed the Christmas Tree to be somewhat pagan. But always there was a desire to make family memories of togetherness and laughter and joy. We didn’t always have a lot of money, but we had each other. 

This year I just want to be surrounded by my loved ones.  We have had a lot of ups and downs over the last couple of years.  My tears and fears have both flowed freely.  I wondered if I would lose one of my daughters. I wondered how much a family could handle.  All I want this Christmas is to have my children around me and cherish the moments and memories. 

Life goes by quickly.  I think God wants us to celebrate the loved ones in our lives and the times we can be together, making memories.  Traditions are nice in that memories are made in those instances.  We spend time together and laugh. My new son-in-law never helped decorate the tree.  His mom always did it herself.  He said this was a new experience for him.  I am glad he got to be a part of our little tradition. 

Also new to this tradition is my grandson.  He was here last year, but was an infant.  This year his reactions to the lights and ornaments were more entertaining. 

I am the mom all OCD moms dread.  I keep childhood ornaments.  I let my kids hang the ornaments.  None of the ornaments really match each other.  My tree is a collage of colors and themes, telling the story of our family in a hundred little ways.  I still have the Baby’s First Christmas ornaments for each child.  I looked for interesting ornaments for years...  until my tree was full.  

Then I stopped for awhile.  Over the years some of the ornaments broke or were lost.  A flooded basement wiped out all the paper ones we had one year, and so we can purchase some new ones.  I have a smaller tree now than the live monstrosities we used to cut when the girls were small.  This also means less ornaments are needed.

It was an fun night.  I am happy I take the hundreds of pictures and remember the moments that pass all too quickly.   I can remember only a few of the gifts I received or have given over the years, but moments stay with me long for years and years.  

Sixth Grade Homeschooling (a flashback)

Laura in Sixth Grade

I've had children in public school and homeschool.  Next year my youngest will be in the sixth grade.  Never having been in a traditional school, I sometimes look at the things she is working on and compare her to how things were with her older siblings. 

Sixth grade in our area is almost always a nightmare for public-schooled students.  My older ones all experienced the woes of sixth grade.  They were switching classes.  They had hours of homework nearly every night.  The difficulty level amped-up, and it seemed as if there were a few meltdowns.  Maybe this doesn't happen to all children, but it did with every single one of mine... except my homeschooler.

Making a Gragger

When Laura hit sixth grade, the difficulty level of her school went up a bit.  However, all of our work is homework.  I went through blog posts from that time to read about how our school year progressed then.  That year was a challenging year in many ways, but our homeschooling that year brought some great memories.  We painted our poetry and created whole worlds under the coffee table during read aloud time.  We learned about money and made wampum beads, read classics like Heidi, and made Jewish graggers and hamentashen cookies when we studied Purim. We took a couple amazing field trips and kept some traditions alive.  My memories of that year, looking back, are ones of joy.

My daughter learned a lot.  At that time we began working through levels of work with her, and she simply tacked each day's work.  It wasn't about piling on the work or stressing out a child.  My memories of that time were tough, as we had a lot going on in our personal lives.  However, we did manage to keep school going, and even thrive.

Learning about Camouflage

I don't want my youngest daughter to be overwhelmed by her schooling.   I don't want her to feel like school is a drag.  I have had a couple of conversations with other parents, and so many of them feel that the sixth grade pile-up of work is unnecessary.  Or, they feel that their child wasn't prepared for the sixth grade work level because their younger years hadn't been as challenging.  And despite all the research stating that homework is counterproductive, I still heard the arguments that, without it, children won't be able to tackle the workload in college.

painting her poetry

reading

And, many children aren't prepared for college.  However, homeschooled children tend to do better in college that their public-schooled peers, despite the uptick in workload that many may not have had in high school.  Perhaps it is because they are used to tackling the work load before them independently. 

In any case, rereading the blog posts about that year was entertaining.  It was five years ago, and I am about to embark on the same curriculum with my youngest that I used with my daughter then.  In one post I wrote:

"This school year went by very quickly.  Laura became very independent.  In fact, I miss her.  I don't feel that I got to be a part of her education the way I did when she was younger.  Independence is a good thing, but I still want to be a bit more involved." 

 I find that very interesting, because Laura is completely independent now.  One day I am certain that Megan will also be just as independent in her studies.  It was at about this age when Laura took off in her independence.  And yet, as she grew in independence, she was not spending hours each night completing hours of homework.  She was mastering the level that was in front of her, slowly and methodically.  

Sixth grade for homeschooling does not look like public school.  For that I am grateful!

Tough Decisions

I spent some precious time with my grandson tonight.  He is my delight some days, especially recently when it has been  a stressful time. 

And then, after he went home, I was back to full throttle, trying to finish a school project.  My stress level went crazy when my ten year old began acting out.  She has a week off of school.  Since she doesn’t have to do school tomorrow, she didn’t want to go to bed.  She wanted to stay up.  She wanted to hang out with her older sisters.  Needless to say, I was not a happy mommy. I reminded my ten year old that she wasn’t the boss, and reemphasized that point with many examples of all the adult responsibilities she doesn’t have yet, and so hasn’t earned adult privileges yet.

She went to bed upset with me.  I frustratingly finished my project (in which I did not do my best work) and turned it in.  It was late because the stupid thing didn’t want to load.  That made me even more frustrated.

Every time I think about the last few months, I cringe and feel the panic attack begin to build.  I know that I have to make some tough decisions, and I am dreading making them.  For my health, they have to be made.  For my family, they are necessary.  

I waited twenty-five years to go back to college.  Dropping my class load is a struggle for me because I don’t want anything to stand in the way of me reaching my goals.  On the other hand. if I crash and burn, I’ll never get to the place I want to be.

And so, I realize that I need to cut back, to limit myself.  Why is this so hard?  I mean, I’m not quitting.  My children need me.  I need to not have a repeat of the extreme stress of this semester. 

I think of my ten year old and know that I am short-changing her.  I haven’t read aloud to her in weeks.  Reading aloud is a priority for me, something I value greatly.  But with sick children and full-time college classes, homeschooling and my home, I just couldn’t get to it. And she is paying for that.  

She isn’t just missing read aloud time.  I find myself impatient with her often.  She sees her Mom stressed and emotional and feels it is somehow her fault.  

Next semester, I have a child finishing up high school, another expected to have surgery, and four classes of my own.  I need to cut back somewhere.

There is nothing to cut back except my college classes.  I’m telling myself I can take a summer class, and see come spring what my fall will look like.  Maybe I can jump back into full-time then.  Maybe my daughter will be recovered.  Maybe life will smooth out.  Maybe...

When you wait 25 years for something, even a slow down feels like giving up.  But I am despising the journey, and the goal was to enjoy it.  Even if it costs me money.  Even if it delays my graduation.  

I want to read aloud to my youngest again, sharing the stories together and having that special time with each other. I want to not feel the vise-like grip in my chest every time I think of all that seems so wrong right now.  I want to feel like I can breathe again without feeling like I am suffocating.    I want to look at the plans for that week for my classes with excitement of all I get to learn, instead of dread of all I have to do. 

It is such a tough decision, but one I have to make, at least for awhile.  My family comes first, even if there are times I wish I could put my own wants first.  If it were just about getting them to sports practices, then I would simply need better time management skills.  When a daughter has been in the ICU twice in two months and needs a surgery to get better, life takes a whole different direction.

My prayer time, which has also suffered in the stress of the last few weeks, has been a time when I feel the most that God doesn’t want me in this emotional state.

For the next few days, I plan to keep my schedule light.  I have some projects, both personal and for school, that I intend to work on.  Mostly I plan to rest and pray and enjoy time with my family for Thanksgiving.  I plan to read to my ten year old again...  a lot!

When You Don’t Fit the Mold

It’s a tough realization.  The awkward woman, the nerd, the one that takes that God-thing too seriously; she will always be different.  She won’t fit in.  She has tried her entire life and she has failed every time.

And she knows it.  

She isn’t surprised by the fact that she doesn’t fit in.  It isn’t a shock to her.  She has spent a lifetime filling her days with characters in books and other unsocial people, other searchers and dreamers and misfits, that don’t fit in.  She doesn’t care about the latest fashions.  She puts on a bit of makeup, but it has never been her thing. She has nothing against those that love it, but it simply hasn’t been something overly important to her. She doesn’t choose her purses by if they are the newest rage, or even if they match her outfit or shoes, but by if they will fit the book she is reading.  

She spent a long time deciding what she believed, and chooses to learn all she can about what she believes, because she wants to be true to her values.  Being authentic is all she knows, because she has spent a lot of time figuring out who she is and isn’t.  She could have a brand new outfit, and still find a way to spill coffee on it before an hour has passed.  But her book will have a bookmark carefully placed, the pages not creased, even if they are worn.

She sees the groups of women that gather and knows she isn’t one of the group.  She smiles, but asks God why He made her different.  She has friends, and does well one-on-one, but struggles in a larger group.  She’s not shy.  She’s not even quiet, really.  Just different.   She’s too serious, too introverted, doesn’t have enough of whatever the secret ingredient is that naturally draws some groups together. 

She doesn’t want it to matter.  She doesn’t believe in getting her value from some group.  She isn’t worth less because she is different.  Right?  It doesn’t matter.  It shouldn’t matter.  

She looked for her tribe, only to find that it’s a bit elclectic.  This friend shares her love of reading.  That one shares the adventure in homeschooling.  Another one loves Jesus like she does.  They don’t all blend and fit with each other in a cohesive group.  They might not even know each other, but she knows them.  She loves them.  Her tribe looks more like Bible study over coffee, or a long phone conversation, discussing favorite authors, perhaps visiting while they kids play outside.  It doesn’t looks like a large group.  

It’s then she realizes that she is okay.  She might not have a tribe, exactly, but she has connections.  She has women in her life that like her for her; awkward, introverted, passionate, serious, quirky her.  

She may never be the type to be the center of attention at a party, but she will make the women that come to her the center of her attention when they need a listening ear.  She won’t lead a fashion revolution, but she just might lead a friend to Jesus if given the opportunity.  She might not have a lot of money, but she will understand what it is to struggle.  

She has faced things that most will never face, and she is thankful for that.  If her experiences, even the ones that scarred her soul, can help even one other person, she knows Jesus had a purpose in it.  

There are a lot of things she is not, and the nots are easy to see.  Most don’t look deeper.  But she will.  She will see past the nots in others because she knows what it is like when others don’t see past what she is not.  She will look for what you are.  She won’t judge your lack. 

She doesn’t always understand why she fights to find acceptance and a place to belong, until she sees another lonely soul that also doesn’t belong.  And she knows that very few look for the one in the corner alone that also feel they don’t fit.  And, in the body of Christ, people should never feel they don’t fit because God gave them a different personality,  gifts that don’t take center stage, struggles that seem overwhelming, or maybe even a handicap.  

There are many women in the body of Christ that are lonely. There are many women in the body of Christ that don’t fit a mold.  There are many women in the body of Christ that feel forgotten.  There are many women in the body of Christ that feel disconnected from their spiritual family.  There are many women in the body of Christ that feel excluded from the cliques that form. 

The elderly lady, the single mother, the widow, the lady fighting for her life, the woman with no money for dinner let alone new shoes, the introvert, the one that has to work all the time, the one with little children and no sitter, the one that has spent more weeks with her loved one in a hospital room than in her kitchen.  The list goes on...  

The body of Christ is full of people that need Jesus, that are facing struggles too overwhelming to bear alone, but feel alienated from their spiritual family for one of a thousand different reasons.  I fear as a Christian woman that I am failing those women.  I know what it feels like to be alienated because I don’t fit the mold. I know what it feels like to face the same challenges in church as I faced in the world.  I know what it feels like to see happenings among the women at church on social media, but not be invited to be a part.  I know the feeling of, “I thought Christians would be different.”

I want to beg Christian women to be different from other women.  I want to tell them to look around and find the ones that you can bless with your time, your attention, your inclusion.  Find the gifts in those that don’t outwardly show them.  God placed them there, I guarantee.  Don’t play favorites.  Yes, have friends.  Have women you can pour into and women that can pour into you.  But also look for the ones that maybe you wouldn’t normally seek out.  Find out about them.  Make them feel as if their presence matters, as if they have value.  

You may be surprised at the treasure you find in the one that doesn’t fit. 

Please, don’t be ordinary.  Women of God need support and fellowship. The world offers a lot of ordinary. Women need Godly women to have their back.  The world has offered plenty of women that will stab them in the back.  The world offers social clubs.  They don’t need another place that plays favorites or another group to be excluded from.  They need to feel as if the value God gave them is enough for His people, His daughters.  

It’s time to show appreciation for the women that are the prayer warriors, at least in equal measure to the ones that have attention-garnering gifts.  It is time to honor the women that reach out to the least of these, not just to the ones with which they have the most in common.  Very simply, if  Christian women feel they don’t fit, that they don’t matter much to the other women in their church, how in the world can that church show Jesus to a woman that is dealing with substance problems or was abused or is homeless or is TRULY among the least of these? 

Freedom From Enslavement

I am usually not a “live in the past” kind of woman.  Much of my past was hard.  And since becoming a Christian, I have lived believing I am a new creation.

This means that all the things from my past, what I was, is gone.  God made me new.  And, with Jesus, He keeps making me new.  He keeps growing me and teaching me and guiding me.  He keeps flooding my heart with new revelations and convicting me when I stumble. 

The past was not a place where I lingered.  It was not a place that was healthy.  And so, when Satan or other people would try to throw my past in my face, I was usually able to hold on to the knowledge that Jesus forgave me and bought me out of that slavery.  He redeemed me and began construction on my thoughts and emotions and heart.  🚧 My past, the events that led to a change in my identity, from rejected to chosen, from defeated to warrior, from slave to royalty, became a part of a glorious story that began long ago, and will last for eternity. 

It’s such a beautiful story...   redeemed by a great Savior, rescued from slavery, from bondage, freed to become a child of a King.  And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I get to be a bride of Jesus, with the Spirit of God not just by my side but living inside me.

It’s a story where the fatherless are shown a father, the Father.  Adopted by Him into His family after a lifetime of abandonment and rejection.  He loves her, His child, unconditionally and completely.  He loves her so much that He sent His son to buy her freedom from the wicked slave holder.  The price was the ultimate price.  The Son wasn’t buying a virtuous princess.  He was buying a thief, a murderer, a liar...  a condemned woman.  

She wasn’t exactly a pure, noble, misunderstood Cinderella.  The only thing she had in her bankrupt soul was a desire to be loved.  The King saw that.  He wasn’t disillusioned or confused.  He knew her.  He knew her mistakes, her flaws, her rebellion, her vileness, the stench of her sin.  He knew she could never earn her freedom. He knew the stains on her could not be cleaned with soap and water.  He knew she could never escape.  She was not just a slave, she was sentenced to die for her crimes, should they come to light. She was marked for death, her heart full of darkness. But a small part of her longed for light. 

The true heir was sent on a mission to redeem the woman.  The Father sent His only Son, to buy the woman from captivity, from enslavement.  The Father wanted to adopt the woman into His family.  He saw her, the true her, the her she could be.  He loved her despite her past.  And His Son did also.

The Son had to pay the price for the woman’s crimes if she was ever to be free of the enslavement, to be free of herself.  She was sentenced to die, and to pay that penalty for someone else had never been done in the past.  The Son had committed no crime.  He was honorable, holding virtue and nobility.  He was perfect.  And yet, He voluntarily paid the penalty to redeem a criminal by being condemned as a criminal.  He was put to death for her.

The story only begins there.  He paid the price for her crimes at the cost of His life, but death was not the end.  For the Father was a powerful King, and He bestowed on His Son power...  the power to overcome one last enemy, the enemy of death.  Death was vanquished.  The Son overcame death to rise again.  He then went to the woman, His promised bride, to tell her He would return for her soon.  He was preparing His Kingdom for her.  He was preparing for the greatest feast.  Until His return, she was free.  She was free from her past, free from the vileness and stench, free from enslavement, free to be the daughter she had always longed to be. 

She had a family now.  She had a Father now.  She had a mission now.  She was a bride, a royal daughter, an heir.  She was now a soldier, as all true royals will fight for their kingdom.  She must learn the ways of the kingdom in which she now belonged.  She must prepare to serve her people.  She was so overwhelmed by the Son’s sacrifice for her, for His payment for her crimes, by the fact that He had such power that even death couldn’t defeat Him, that she knew she would give herself freely to Him and serve Him all her days.  

That didn’t mean it was easy.  She stumbled as her past was still in her memories.  She struggled with old temptations that had once held her captive.  Those old temptations had held empty promises and fleeting pleasures, but they were all she had known for so long that it was sometimes tough to let them go.  She failed so often.  But each time she failed, she would turn to her promised One and to her Father and they would forgive and guide.  Sometimes there needed to be reprimands when she forgot who she now was and turned back to her old ways.  Sometimes the Father simply needed to hold her as she struggled with learning an entire new world. 

The new Kingdom can be difficult to understand.  There is no other kingdom that has ever existed that can compare to this Kingdom.  The language is not common.  The history is rich and complex, and has joined in with many other kingdoms.  It is a mysterious Kingdom that can’t be fully understood by anyone that hasn’t gone to live there.  Once a member lives in the Kingdom, they don’t return.  They don’t want to return.  The few that have caught even a small glimpse have such a glorious experience that it is impossible to use words to explain.  

By far, the most challenging lessons about the Kingdom to learn are the ways of the Father and His Son.  They seem simple, but are so challenging to actually do.  They don’t make sense in this world.  That Kingdom is the opposite in many ways from the kingdom the woman knows.  She struggles to learn the ways of the new Kingdom.  

The Son gave her a book, full of lessons and stories and His Words.  The book is her lifeline, teaching and training her.  It is a treasure, and as she reads it and studies it, she feels the fog clear.  However, the training into the new Kingdom’s ways never is truly complete.  There is always more to learn about her new Kingdom, the Son, and the Father. 

The mission doesn’t end.  The Father seeks to bring freedom to as many as He can.  The payment for the woman’s crimes has been paid, as well as the payment for the crimes of anyone that seeks to be a part of this new Kingdom and free from enslavement.  He asks His newly adopted daughter to tell others freedom is available.  He asks His daughter to teach others the ways of the new Kingdom.  He asks His daughter to be a servant to others, using the gifts and talents He gave her to do His will until the time for her to move to the new Kingdom arrives.  He asks for her to be an ambassador for His Kingdom in this world.  

This world made her a slave.  This world left her abandoned and rejected.  This world offered her pleasures that left her dirty and shamed.  This world filled her with empty promises and left her in chains, owing debts she could never pay.  This world was run by a tyrant that hated the woman, and was determined to torture and torment her.  When she didn’t know there was a Kingdom where she truly belonged, this place was the only home she knew and she tried to survive. Once the promise of the true Kingdom was tasted, she didn’t want this to stay in this place.  She longed for her true home.

But the Son asked her to stay, just for awhile.  When she felt the crush of disappointment that she was going to have to wait for Him in the land that had once imprisoned and poisoned her, she despaired.  She was fearful she would return to her enslavement when the darkness here attempted to overwhelm.  This place was often painful.  The battles here were like engaging in guerilla warfare, as the enemy never fought fair.

The enemy hated the woman.  He despised her when he made her a prisoner.  Her despised the fact that the Father wanted her.  He despised her even more now that the bounty on her had been paid.  He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want the Father to adopt her or the Son to claim her.  He wanted to destroy her.  This was his world, temporarily.  His power was limited, but he used whatever he could.  

The woman knew he would lie, cheat, and attack relentlessly.  He would tease her with temptations that led to chains.  He had tricked her before. She knew ultimately he would be punished eternally, but until that day, she would have to fight him.  She grew weary fighting him.

She begged the Father to not make her stay.  But He showed her the one thing that would give her purpose...  other slaves.  He showed her those still in chains, the way she had been.  

“But wasn’t the price paid for them also?”  She asked, confused.

“Yes,” said the Father sadly.  “But they don’t know or don’t want to see that the chains are no longer locked.  They can get free of them.  The price for their freedom, like the price for yours, was paid.  The ability to be adopted by Me and join My Kingdom is right there, available.  Some don’t know it.  Some have heard but don’t believe. Some enjoy the crimes that put them in chains.  Some have been lied to and believe the lies.  And some, a few, hate Me and all I claim as mine.”

“What am I to do?”  The woman asked, feeling her heart break for those that were facing condemnation for their crimes, crimes she too had committed.  She had been redeemed.  She had been rescued.  She hadn’t paid for her crimes.  The Son had paid her penalty.  She owed Him her life.

“Fight for them.”  The King whispered in her ear.  “Fight to bring them into the Kingdom.”

“It’s too hard.” She cried out in fear. “The enemy will work to destroy me.  He already hates me, as I hate Him.  If I fight for them, He will place a target on me that will leave me no place to hide.  He won’t just come after me, he will come after those around me.”

“Hide in me.”  The Father’s voice was calm, certain, strong. “This a war where the prize is not treasures of gold or jewels, but souls.  You are now my daughter belonging to My Kingdom.  You will never fight alone, no matter how ruthlessly or dirty the enemy fights.”

“But my loved ones...” She mumbled weakly, seeing the faces of the ones the Father had blessed her with.  

“Like you,” He told her, “they must choose for themselves which kingdom they wish to serve, which family in which they want to belong.  They will be a target anyway, My child.  Fight for them, as the enemy wishes to enslave them, to destroy them.  But child, understand that Your choice to accept My Son’s sacrifice may influence others, but it will not redeem anyone but you.  They must choose for themselves.”

“But Father,” the woman protests, “I cannot bear it that some will not choose You.  I know how tough it can be to choose you and stay strong in this land.”

“My heart is more grieved than yours could ever be.”  The Father shakes His head.  “I long for each one of them.  After all, I know their true worth. I also know the result if they choose the enemy’s ways.”  

The Father’s eyes took on a glint of steel, determined, even as His voice was hoarse with the grief of loss.  “It must be their choice.”

The woman knows the Father is correct.  She feels the safety and love and acceptance that come from having a loving Father, and remembers how it felt to not have known that love, that sense of safety and belonging. She cries for those that have never known, those in bondage as she was.  The Father reassures her, reaffirming His love for His chosen child.  

“I celebrated in heaven when you chose to accept my Son’s sacrifice and become My child. I rejoice over you every moment.  My adopted children are flawed, struggle, and sometimes fail.  But I rejoice over them, for their hearts long for Me and for My Son.  They carry My Spirit in them, and I will never forsake them.”

The woman saw her life in this world, this temporary land made by her Father, cursed by the evil one.  It was a land full of slaves, many of which didn’t know they were slaves.  They thought they were home, that this place is all that exists.  This created land is now cursed, a battle zone, a training zone.  In this land the Father sent His Son to redeem the slaves, the ones that were caught in a battle of light and dark.  

The woman would stay in this land, waiting for the time the Son returned for her.  She would train.  She would study. She would fight.  She would love.  She would experience deep sorrow and know great joy.  She would choose to fight for those she saw enslaved, as she once was.  She would fight to convince the slaves, considering many only saw their own comfort and not their need, not their chains. A glimpse at the woman would bolster their supposition that she was not correct.  For the woman was flawed and even a bit unpopular.  They would see the crimes that had led to her enslavement, and choose to overlook the differences since her liberty began.  Many would grow to hate her, as the evil one hates her, believing his lies and manipulations. 

Had they looked deeper, they would have seen the Son.  They would have discovered the Father.  

Not all is lost, for the Father is determined.  The Son is relentless.  The woman is strengthened. The love for the slaves is stronger than the hate the enemy holds.  It is stronger than life.  It is stronger than death.  The enemy is a defeated foe, trying to inflict as much damage as he can in his limited time before the Son returns.  But the fate of the enemy is a written decree that cannot be nulified.  The promise of the Father is certain.  The reign of the Son is guaranteed.  The Bride is promised, and she anticipates, her awaited Kingdom with her Beloved.  The battles here for slaves... souls... pale in comparison to what awaits when the Son claims His throne with His bride at his side. 

True Thanksgiving

What is true Thanksgiving?

I am humbled by Jesus.  He has come through so many times for my family over the years.  He has lessons that are tough to learn, at times.  And yet, life is richer for having learned those lessons.

Life is so short.  We can believe that we will have a long time, a long life, but even if we live ninety years, it is still short in the grand scheme of things.  God told us this:

Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.  Remind me that my days are numbered - how fleeting my life is.  Psalm 39:4
 


As any parent that has watched a child battle a life-threatening illness can tell you, there are times when you want to get angry.  You want to lash out at God and tell Him how unfair it is that it is your child.  You wouldn't wish the heart-wrenching times on any other parent, but you also wish it wasn't you.  But to go through this lesson with more than one child, more than one time, it is more than a parent can handle on their own.



And then the lesson...  you realize that you cherish those moments with your loved ones just a little more.  You realize you don't want to hold on to those feelings that bring about upset and negativity.  Yes, the opportunity to experience them and live in them will be there.  It is obvious, if you spend any time in the world, that anger and bitterness and hate run the lives of many.  The choice is always there to live in that.  It is also there to cast that aside and cherish the blessings of now.

None of us are guaranteed tomorrow.  We assume that the odds are in our favor.  We assume that we will have the time.  But time is a priceless gift that is limited.  We can't be cavalier and assume that time will stand still.  It doesn't.  We can't assume that the precious blessings of today will still be there tomorrow.



Life is change.  The battles that we face don't go away.  As a new Christian, I believed that Jesus would "fix" all the wrongs and make everything wonderful.  His children shouldn't have to endure such trauma, right?  After years of walking this path, I have seen that God's ways are very different from what I assumed was correct.  He doesn't always fix, and when He does, it often takes a lot longer than I anticipated.  It also usually happens in a completely different way than I assumed.



There come moments, in this walk with Jesus, where we have to decide what we believe.  These moments come during the toughest times, when we feel the most like He has abandoned us.  They come in the midst of pain and fear.  They come in the midst of grief.  They come at the bedside of a daughter whose body is septic after doctors have failed her over and over again.  They come at the moment of a diagnosis that we were unprepared for and uncertain how to cope.  They come at the moment of feeling the injustice of years of abuse and wondering why deliverance wasn't faster.  They come at the moment of despair when we watch the things we spent years building and acquiring disappear like dandelion fluff in the wind.  They come when we see a prodigal walking away from all we spent a lifetime devoted to showing them.  They come at the moment when the faithful fall.

These moments... They come for all that believe.  We are wracked with confusion and disappointment and deep sadness.  We wonder if the failure is somehow ours, if we are being punished, even if we are cursed.  In those moments, when we feel our own frail will slip, we have to make a choice.



What do we believe?  What is our foundation?

Do we go by what we see?  Or do we stand on what we know, what doesn't make sense to most, what is laughed at and mocked, yet has never let us go no matter how our emotions fluctuate and circumstances appear.

I smile when I think of the times that the impossible has happened.  I know that the impossible happened because God is a God of the impossible.  That doesn't mean that I am not grieved by loss. That doesn't mean that fear doesn't consume me at times.  It means I have seen Him work.  It means I have seen the blessings in my life, and I cherish them.  It means that nothing is forever, and one day I might have to say goodbye to another cherished one, and still believe that God is good and His plans are good.



How many have fallen away because God didn't do what they thought He should do when they thought He should do it?  How many are outright hostile toward God because they are disappointed or grieved by circumstances that God didn't change.  The loved one passed away, despite the pleading prayers.  Justice wasn't served.  The house was foreclosed upon.  The company closed. Remission didn't happen.



We have been sold snake-oil if we believe that following Jesus means a smooth path.  The path is broken.  The path is tough.  The path is heart-breaking.  The path is uncomfortable.  And yet... the path is joyous. How can this broken road in this sin-filled earth be joyous?

This is the great mystery, that the hard and defeating, the wearying and the heart-wrenching, march side by side with the comfort and peace and joy and love that is encompassed in Jesus.  Our Redeemer lives.  He bought us with a price, a very high price, and while we are facing what feels overwhelming and impossible here in this journey, He doesn't leave us alone.  When we make the choice, during that impossible time, to stand on His promises, despite what our circumstances say, He floods us with Himself.



His peace... His love... His comfort... His joy... His presence. 

He walks with us.  Sometimes He carries us.  He often performs miracles, and we take them for granted.  He leaves me desperate for Him, because without Him I would be a blubbering mess in the fetal position, feeling like I've been short-changed in life because it is hard and unfair.  I would drown in self-pity and rage.

He holds me as I cry.  He guides me to His Word.  He even speaks to others on my behalf, and works circumstances out in ways that never would have happened without Him.  He opens my eyes to what He has given me... the moments in time that my heart clings to and captures like a photograph:  The smile of my grandson, the smell of coffee on a brisk fall morning, the hug from a friend, the smile of greeting by my loved ones, the times alone in prayer where He simply is, the privilege of watching my daughter peacefully sleep, the sound of joyful music on a gray-sky day, the feeling of being filled with His Spirit during worship.



This is true thanksgiving.  This is true gratefulness.  This is true joy, knowing that we don't walk alone, knowing that the darkness we face we don't face alone.  This is true love, not being lost in our own grief and anger and fear, but having Him beside us, being patient with us, a gentle touch with a powerful presence.

This is true blessing. 

He's NOT Going to Win

Worship...   It is a favorite time for me, a time where I try to let go of myself, the awkward, introverted, insecure me.  It is a time where I shut out what is around me.  There exists the music, which bridges the gap between my mind that thinks too much and my heart that feels too much.  There exists me, flawed and desperate.  And there exists God, Holy and pure and loving.  Sometimes that love is embracing, and sometimes it is a reprimand or rebuke, but it is still love.

Today, I struggled.  My mind was wandering.  Some weeks I close my eyes and, BAM, His presence is there.  This morning was a bit different. I was going to praise God anyway, because how I feel is not a determining factor in if I will worship.  Worship is a given.  He is my Lord, worthy of worship, and I will worship and praise and serve.  Sometimes I do so with a broken heart.  Sometimes I do so with anger flooding me, and I have to apologize for my feelings not matching up to how I want my heart to be.  Sometimes I worship when my heart is heavy.  Sometimes the hunger and desperation for Him drive my worship.  Sometimes it is a sweet, simple experience. 

Today, worship was challenging.  I kept praying and refocusing.  After all, I am desperate for Him. I am hungry for Him.  After the last few weeks of unexpected challenges and anxiety, I am so desperate for the peace only He possesses. 

Instead, as the worship session continued, I felt angry.  Oh, I have suffered from anger isssues, and it wasn’t that kind of anger.  As I looked back over the last few weeks, and even the last few years, I got angry.  It was if a light went on and I had incredible hindsight vision. 

I have felt like such a failure these past few weeks.  I saw my mistakes as glaring beacons, but I also felt like we have been cursed.  One by one, no matter what I do, I see my family members succumb to this curse.  There is sickness, life-threatening sickness, that seems to have run rampant.  Doctors haven’t had answers, no matter how many thousands of dollars in tests were run.  But even more damaging than the sickness is the apathy.  Slowly, I see my loved ones being taken out by apathy.  It begins as anger at God when circumstances are bad.  Watching a loved one go through painful illness with little relief is frustrating.  Even I have wondered where God was, why He hasn't fixed it all.  Is there a purpose in this suffering?  Why is a young woman suffering needlessly?  Frustration and anger easily build when you do all you can to be healthy and go to the doctors and go through test after test, all to receive slow answers and slower treatment.  Then, over time, that anger seems pointless and it turns to, “It’s too hard to care, so I am shutting down that part of me.”

I have been tempted myself, to be done and walk away from Jesus.  I mean, most of the world would cheer and praise me that I “came to my senses.”  I understand the temptation, and batted around the thought numerous times over the past few years. When the support system I thought was there was stripped away, I was tempted.  When I feel surrounded by those that simply don’t care, I am tempted.  When the walk feels very isolating and lonely, I am tempted.  When it seems easier to compromise than to feel at odds with loved ones, I am tempted.  When I experience extreme panic attacks myself, breaking out in hives, my heart racing, my chest clinched in a vise, I am tempted. 

Something always stops me.  That something is Him.  He stops me, because I am reminded that He changed my life.  He set me free.  I was a slave to my sins, to my fluctuating emotions and the anger that could erupt at any time.  He set me free, and even though there are areas where I still struggle, I have tasted sweet freedom and don’t want to go back to being a slave.  

The anger this morning was one that rose up and said, “No more!”  It was an anger that said the time of my family being little puppets in Satan's sick game needs to end.  And while I still feel helpless to change the hearts of others, because that isn’t my job, I can wage spiritual war for them.  

“He’s not going to win.” I felt bold making that statement, but it wasn’t my boldness that said it.  It was the boldness of God.  Satan is not going to have my family.  I will go to my death bed praying for their hearts and souls.  

I will continue to pray, to fast, to fight for my loved ones.  Yes, there is fear.  But even more than fear, there is a determination that my family belongs to the Lord.  This is a spiritual battle.

We are human, but we don't wage war as humans do. 2 Corinthians 10:3 (NLT)

My Pastor has preached recently about how the spiritual battles often overflow into the physical world.  I believe this to be very true, in the world at large, and in my small section of that world.  As I battled disappointment and anger, frustration and fear, I have watched a sequence of events occur where I felt utterly helpless.  I have felt like a victim and not like a warrior.  One by one, as my loved ones have chosen to not care over fighting what feels like a losing battle most days, I have fought with the wrong weapons.  I became angry, and lashed out.  I became frustrated and begged and pleaded.  I became weary, and made rash decisions.  I became overwhelmed, and gave away my spiritual authority.  I became hurt and felt rejected, and withdrew into myself.  None of my methods have worked.  Every glimmer of hope I felt was usually crushed quickly.

The pain grows and grows, as I fear that nothing will ever get better and change.  And yet, I can't change hearts.  It isn't my job.  The spiritual battle has manifested itself in so many different ways in the physical world.  Yes, there is apathy.  There is also anxiety, illness, tense relationships, and depression.  The spiritual world will always overflow into the physical world.  Our thought life influences our actions and moods.  Our prayer time, or lack thereof, will influence our thoughts and emotions.  Our time in the Word will influence our thought life, as we can't renew our minds if we aren't spending time with Him.  It all works together, for positive or negative.

In God's economy, the end doesn't justify the means.  We don't win the war if we fight battles incorrectly.  We can manipulate and guilt people, but the heart changes that occur from these methods of doing battle often are not what we hope.  Even if it appears we win short-term battles, we will eventually lose.  But if we fight God's way, He works to change hearts and minds, He fights the battle in His ways.  

And, ultimately, the results of our battles are not up to us.  This is the kicker, accepting that even as we wage battles in the spiritual realm, the results are not in our control.  They are in the free will of those we pray for and in the will of God.  He knows the future.

I firmly believe, the enemy is NOT going to win.  As I prayed yesterday during worship, this was impressed upon me with certainty.  I already know from the Word of God that Satan isn't going to win in the end, but yesterday I knew that he was not going to win in my family.  Once I give into fear and despair, to weariness and frustration, to anger and hopelessness, He wins. Oh, the temptation is there.  I won't deny that I don't fight all those feelings.  We all experience them, especially during times when our world is caving in and we are left struggling to just keep going every day.  I also won't deny that a part of me fears that I will be overcome with the struggles, that I will lose a loved one, or that circumstances will overtake me and be more than I can bear.  Every time I hear the phrase, "New level, New Devil," I feel as if I am simply a challenge for Satan to try to destroy, or that God has given permission for Satan to sift me like wheat, as He did Job, and every thing I hold dear is at the mercy of evil.

But God...

When I see the struggles, when I focus on the physical challenges in this world, I feel overwhelmed and slightly panicked.  And then I feel the words flow through me... "He's NOT going to win."  I must have faith, not in what I see, but in the promises of God.

We walk by faith, not by sight.

For we walk by faith, not by sight.  II Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV)

In the natural, I still see a child battling to be well, others feeling that God doesn't care because of this fight, apathetic family members that don't want to care about God right now, and so much more.

But this war is not about what we see, and that is a difficult concept to comprehend.  It is a step of faith.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.  Hebrews 11:1b (NKJV)

I don't expect this journey to be easy, but I know that I don't walk alone.  I know the ONE that walks ahead of me, and I know that I follow His voice.

After He has gathered His own flock, He walks ahead of them, and they follow Him because they know His voice.  John 10: 4