There's This House

There's this house.

Over the Thanksgiving break I was reminded about the day our church bought a house. It sits in the back of the property and as the church was growing, they wanted to purchase it.

The pastor led us to prepare for a Sunday that we would bring an offering to the church to buy the house. He called it "The Chest of Joash Day" believing that God would do a work.  The day came and as the entire church, row by row, walked down the aisle to the chest to place their offering in, we watched God at work.  My mother happened to be with us that morning and as I turned around to see her behind us in line, I asked, "Why are you in line..with a check?"  She replied, "I'm investing in my grandchildren's future." And she did with a $200 check.

That day the church sacrificially gave over $50,000 and then bought the house.

The house housed some staff members for a while and after they moved, the questions began to circle of what was it to be used for now.

The answer was not long in coming.

It became, what we lovingly referred to it as "the youth house" and it became a house of solace. Our house of faith.

This wasn't a fancy house with modern amenities. This was a wood framed house that had additions built into it. It was old. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. The windows did not shut well and the doors didn't fit the frame. But our hearts fit there and  it was well loved.

It is hard to put into words the feelings about this house. Not only did the youth have their own place, it became a place that when we gathered, we expected God to move. And so many times, He did.

Because, there's this house:

I could talk about the music...and there was lots of music. Students began to bring their talent and use it to honor God. There were jam sessions and worship sessions. We had several adults who gave of their own personal time to work with these students and help them learn how to lead worship and play as a group. Many of these students went on to offer their talents in churches after they graduated. The worship sessions in the place were Spirit-filled.

Because, there's this house:

I could tell you about the Friday night's and  lock-in's that happened there. Food, candy, a fire-pit to roast marshmallows and so much more. Shaving cream, food games, manhunt, mafia and Sardines. Bible study and girl talk. It all happened and we fell in love with each while it was all going on. Extended family does not begin to explain the relationships that were deepened during this time.

Because, there's this house:

I could speak for hours of the Bible study and lessons that happened in there, week after week. Students with Bibles, papers and pen gathered together to learn. We discussed and studied so many topics and verses. After a while, there were some that asked if they could lead the study and so the baton was passed. We stood or sat in a circle many times and prayed, wiped away tears, comforted and just leaned into God.  He was and is always faithful.

Because, there's this house:

Let me tell you about all the adults that wandered in and out of this house. They gave of themselves to help out students. They gave time, money, effort, patience and so much more. They traveled with us, slept on church floors, cooked meals, cleaned up, endured the elements in a hot and cold bus, and prayed with students, loved them, advised them and guided them in the ways of the Lord.


And because there was a house, and because God chose to work, we have had the immense privilege to watch God work in their lives then, and even now as they have become adults in an adult world.  Somewhere along the way we bought into the idea that the next generation counted. They mattered. They were and are loved by God and loved by us.

One of the songs we used to sing was "House of Faith" by Geoff Moore and the Distance. It was, for want of a better word, our theme song:

"Let the doors swing open to the house of faith
Every tribe and nation, every tongue and race
Under Jesus' banner, let us all embrace
There can be no labels, in the house of faith"

I pray that all churches, no matter the size, realize that the next generation matters. They matter to God and they matter to the local church.

When my mother walked the aisle and placed her check in the chest, she said she was investing in her grandchildren. She did exactly that. But what she could not have known is that her great grandchildren, years later would also benefit from ministry at times from that house.

Who can fathom what God has in mind when He presents an opportunity? No one.

Who can ever know the impact you have on a life that is searching? Only God.

Let the doors swing open to the house of faith......there can be no labels in the house of faith.

A good remembrance for us all.

A Force of Four

The first days of summer.

The heat, the humidity, the feeling of endless nights of stars and lightening bugs takes me back to 1976 and a summer spent in Dallas.

My sister and I had been driven across the south to stay with our Uncle and Aunt for the summer. They had two daughters, and that is where this tale begins.

After being dropped off, we began the summer of lightheartedness, entertainment and laughter...lots of it.

We stayed up late and slept the morning away. We played board games and watched a great deal of game shows and "Father Knows Best".  On a side note: this is also the summer I read "Gone With the Wind" for the first time.  I hope you know how long that book is.

The best part of these days, or so we thought, was that we spent the daylight hours on our own.
The cousins and us together were a force of four.

Our uncle, whom we called The Professor, was an endless wealth of trivia and informative facts we would later recall as actually true.  He was full of conspiracy theories that have since come to light.  We loved him then, and still love him. He resides in Glory today.  Later in life he described himself as our children's "avuncular grandfather".  And he was.

Our aunt could then, and now, light up the room. I remember thinking she must be the person in the world who has fun everywhere she goes.  She introduced us that summer to sopaipilla's and honey, and bean dip.  We learned about Hollywood gossip and lives of the rich and famous, and we loved every minute of it.  She is as beautiful today as she was then, and still having fun. She is also the aunt that took us to see Jaws for the first time...that makes her a rock star in my book.


We sank into the easy rhythm of summer that did not require much effort.  The four of us were 13 yrs old and under.  We played outside, we laid around inside.  We rode bikes and walked all around the neighborhood. We swam at the local pool and bought candy from a dime store.  It was the days of freedom and fun and we were living it up.

We didn't think about strangers or hidden danger, we simply had fun.

 Throughout the summer we attended church with our family and the week of Vacation Bible School came up. The big discussion was how we were going to get to church every day for a week while the adults were working.  Their church was in downtown Dallas. Nowhere near their house.

The decision was made that we were old enough to ride the city bus downtown, get off and walk to the church building, attend Bible school, and then repeat the route back home.  Then, it was a 30 minute ride to the destination.

We were ecstatic, to say the least. So, every morning for five days, we were given change for the bus, and money to buy lunch at the church cafeteria.  Our feet probably did not touch the sidewalks of downtown Dallas we were riding so high on the endless possibilities of a free hand and flexibility to choose our daily activities.

Please keep in mind:  we were 13 and under.  And we loved every second of it.

There is something to be said for responsibility. When it is given and you are expected to pull it off,  you find it within yourself to fulfill the expectation.  Or at least we tried.

We rode the bus. We paid attention to the stops. We gathered our belongings and each other.  We returned home as expected every day.

Maybe today this would be abhorrent for parents to even consider. Maybe their heart stops at the mere thought of their children getting on a city bus and taking a ride by themselves. But that summer we all grew a little taller, inside and out.  We felt good about ourselves and our adventures.  We felt confidence in ourselves begin to take root and sprout.  Funny thing about responsibility placed on your shoulders...you start to believe that you can actually attain the goals that are placed in front of you.

Parents, please give your children some sort of responsibility.  They need it. They probably want it. Don't do everything for them and allow them a way out.  It stifles them as they get older and we don't need any more irresponsible adults.

Our cousins and us forged a bond that summer.  It made us more than cousins. It made us sisters. After all, when you eat, sleep, listen to Barry Manilow and adventure your way through the summer, there is a bond.

Summer is the time for fun.  Have some fun and make those memories.  It is your responsibility.

And to  my sister and the cousins--may we never grow too old to have fun and ride the bus by ourselves.

Mark It Up

I am a reader.

I recently reread  "Her Mothers Hope" by Francine Rivers.  In this book, the author shows a mothers struggles and triumphs and how these situations impacted her daughters, granddaughters and great-granddaughters.

I was reminded of my own grandmother. We called her Nonna, and even to this day if I hear that name I am instantly reminded of the sweet fragrance of love.

I am a Bible-marker.  My pages are marked, underlined, folded, and tabbed throughout the Book. Some of my  first recollections are of  Nonna  sitting with her Bible in her lap, reading and praying first thing every morning I was with her.  And underlining.  I have the sweet privilege of having one of her devotionals, and you guessed it...it's marked up.  Her life was "marked" by her devotion to the Holy Scripts and her Savior.  And my life was deeply impacted by hers.

My mother was the single parent of two girls. God had to help her.  There was no choice.  Countless meals, refereeing  battles, keeping us safe, baskets full of books, listening to our endless chatter, and loving us unconditionally...I cannot help but be amazed by the goodness of God in our lives.  She told me once that her relationship with God was more important to her than I was. I believed it.  Her life was also marked by her journey with the Savior.

Of course, for myself, I did not really understand the gravity of mothering until one hot summer day in August.  That was when everything came full circle for me.  It was made abundantly clear  what this mothering idea was all about.  I was reminded at that exact moment that my life needed to be marked by the love of Jesus.

When I think of my grandmother and my mother, I am amazed at the two women God place in my life. What gifts of grace they were.  They profoundly impacted  the way I think and reason about everything.

When I look at my sister and myself, I am amazed that we had two Godly women in our lives that instructed us in so many ways. Sometimes with words and sometimes by not using words at all.

When I look at my daughter, I see a precious gift of grace, who has her own gift of grace.

This quote from "Her Mothers Hope" has become endearing to me as the years go  by:

"Someday when I pass from this life to the next, my mom and grandmother will be standing with Jesus welcoming me home.  Just as I will be waiting when my beloved daughter arrives, ....and her daughter after her...and all the generations yet to come."  


How is your life marked? Is Jesus tattooed on your life?

Underline it. Highlight it. Circle it. Color it. Fill in all the lines.

Mark it up. It matters to someone.

Too Fast

Not long ago the Treasures and I were taking a trip to the local shopping area. It was cold and windy so we were walking briskly to get to where we were going.  Even though we were bundled up, we were moving like jets because of the cold wind. The young one and I were walking and the big three were walking a few feet ahead.

After a few minutes the he said "Hey, tell them to wait. They are walking too fast."

We soon arrived at our destination---which happened to be a donut shop---ordered and sat down. We quickly consumed said donuts. With a vengeance.

As I sat there listening to the banter of the siblings, I began to think about the phrase, "Walking too fast".

If someone is walking too fast, it generally means they are up ahead, or in front of you moving hurriedly. We tend to say:

Life moves too fast.

Your children grow too fast.

The disease is spreading fast.

I was, at that moment watching donuts disappear too fast.

So with coffee and crumbs cleaned up off the table we began to gather our belongings to leave.

Again, as we were walking, the older ones walked ahead.

And as I looked at them walking away ahead of us I thought of how often we walk away from others, from family, from the body of Christ we have been placed in by God.

We walk away from responsibility of caring for others; from the privilege to serve and not just be served.

We walk away emotionally from relationships that are hard to maintain and cause upheaval in our lives and yet they have a place in our lives.

We walk away from the very circumstance that God places in our lives that will begin the process of making us more like Jesus.

WE walk away.

The Bible is very clear in how we should walk through this life on planet earth.

*Walk in newness of life
*Walk according to love
*Walk by faith
*Walk by the Spirit
*Walk in a manner worthy of the calling
*Walk as children of Light
*Walk in the same manner as He walked
*Walk in truth

......Just to name a few....

If we are walking through life too fast, are we running away from something or running towards something?

Are we walking away from problems and situations that God is allowing for our good and His glory?

Are we walking away emotionally because life is hard and it's too much to deal with?

Are we walking away from the very mission God has us here for?  To tell others about Him.


Where are you walking? To what or Whom are you walking?

I pray it's with Jesus. He's so worth the hard walk.

As for the Treasures---I am praying every day that they not just walk, but RUN towards Jesus.  I pray they walk in His kindness and goodness and also His unwavering love.

And when I am with them and we are walking, I am keeping my eyes fixed on them. I don't want to miss a second of their walk.

Because, as all grandparents know....they are growing too fast.

There's this girl.........

  

Tomorrow is a birthday.  It is the birthday of someone I have been praying for all of her life, though we only met two years ago.  I always knew that she was somewhere in the world. I just didn't know where. 

Through the years I would pray that she was growing up holding onto Jesus. And she was.  

 I would pray that her family loved her tenderly. They did.

My prayer was that she would love and serve the Lord with her whole heart. She does. 

I prayed for all of this because I knew that somewhere in the life of my son, she would appear. And in the perfect timing of a perfect Father, she did. 

Happy Birthday, Katie. I have recently said that you are everything I prayed for and so much more. God says He gives us more than we could ask or think.  He did exactly that when you came on the scene.  

We count you as an added blessing to our family. You fit perfectly in this tribe of people that love fiercely and protect at all costs.  

So, again, with much love and all kinds of Hawaiian  memories between us,  Happy Birthday! 

P.S.---in 186 days I will watch you come down that aisle towards my son, and as my entire family will be present, I will look and listen closely as the Lord fulfills His promise to this mother.....the day you change your name. 

Cannot wait.