Category: Hearts

I don’t work Mondays

This morning my son asked me, “Do you work Mondays?”

He asked because I work at his school and he wanted me to carry something into school for him. I had to disappoint him today because I don’t work Mondays. I work 3 days a week at the school.

I don’t know about you but the summer mornings before school are even busier than usual. Here’s what my morning looked like:

My eldest needed ingredients for a cookery lesson so as well as getting the usual lunches ready I was also busy measuring out flour into a freezer bag and wrapping up a single egg in an egg box. (I did ask her if the school had considered buying a dozen eggs and asking everyone to bring in 5op, rather than getting 12 girls to each bring in a single egg. What could she say? She’s not in charge.) Thankfully she is organised so had already gone and bought the tomatoes and grated cheese she needed. Legend.

The aforementioned son has a cricket match this afternoon so as well as reminding him to have his lanyard on and telling him where his tie was I prepared a box of food for him so he doesn’t arrive home absolutely ravenous. I then tried to smear a bit of suncream on him and checked he had a cap and called after him (through the entryphone, like a madwoman) to check he had water with him. I then phoned him when he was on the bus to double check he did actually have water and wasn’t just saying that so I’d let him leave and he wouldn’t be late. (His match is about an hour’s drive away and I’m still waiting to hear if he’ll be brought back to school or whether I need to go and collect him. Eek.)

My younger son is doing ‘bikeability training’ this week so needed to cycle to school. In theory this is no bother but when I asked him when he’d last ridden his bike he said ‘that place we went when it was Martha’s birthday’ (Centerparcs), which was in the Easter holidays so his dad had to go out and check his tyres and do whatever other mysterious things need to be done to bikes before you can go anywhere. He also needed his swimming kit which was in the wash so we had to gather together a spare set. Not a big deal. So far it’s 8.03 and things are going OK. Between cycling and swimming I’m not sure he’s going to do much English today but I’m happy for him.

This was also the morning when, in preparation for the school fair, we needed to take in prizes for the tombola, i.e. toys/games that children would like to win. We have a different school fair offering each week at the moment. Last week it was a cup of sweets. The first year this whole situation caught me out but now I see it coming round the corner and am quite prepared. Remembering to take the things in that I’ve bought feels like the real achievement, especially when I was having to remember the bike helmet and the swimming and the flour and eggs and the water and suncream mentioned above. (Please, please never assume a parent is forgetful when they forget something!)

In between these activities I was merrily putting loads of washing in because while the sunshine may give my son sunstroke today, it will also dry my washing. Which for a mother of four, is such a treat. And I was also running a small cafe – making porridge, sunny-side-up-well-done-please-eggs on toast, peanut butter sandwiches (not toasted) and jam on toast. Some would argue that I should just dump some Weetabix down and tell everyone to be grateful, and I would find it hard to argue with them.

I say all these things not to moan. I actually love being at home and being able to get everything ready for my children. I want them to have what they need. Plus I have energy in the morning. (This evening, when we have boxing club, drama club, piano lessons and a possible drive to Teddington to collect a dehydrated cricketer, I may struggle.) I say this for two reasons:

  1. Perhaps you had a similar morning and it’s nice to know you’re not the only one. Keep going. Your children are blessed and it’s not too long now till the holidays.
  2. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I do work Mondays, after all.

How about you? Do you work Mondays?

Greetings from the Mr Beer Fan Club

Have you been following the Post Office scandal? If you’ve never heard of it, here’s a summary. I’ve been listening to the Public Inquiry* for weeks. That means listening to key witnesses being grilled by barristers for hours. It’s an easy thing to have on while I’m hanging the washing out etc. because it’s very calm and methodical – although occasionally totally gripping. I keep bringing in my children to watch key moments. (The boys got quite into the Paula Vennells bit but I think they’d just watch anything to be honest.)

There’s so much we can learn from the whole situation, as a society and as individuals. But specifically from the Inquiry I have a few thoughts I’d like to share:

  • People do not like to admit bad motives. It’s hard to say “I’m sorry”, but saying “I’m sorry that happened,” “I’m sorry we didn’t realise” or “I’m sorry I was too trusting” are all much easier than saying an absolute sorry. For example: “You’re right, I cared more about myself than those other people so I lied. I’m so sorry.” Nobody has said that (yet). Of course we see this right back in Genesis. Adam and Eve didn’t say sorry at all, they just blamed someone else. Since I know I’m a sinner, I should be able to admit when I’ve done something that’s just plain wrong. And since we know true forgiveness, we can give true apologies. What freedom!
  • We should be careful not to say or do things that we’re not prepared to defend. Some of the witnesses have had a really hard time in the box, and I’d hate to be them. So it’s worth wondering, ‘Could I be in that position?’ I hope and pray that if I ever have to explain myself in court, it will be over something I’m willing to die for. I’d love people to be able to say of me what they said of Daniel: “We will never find any basis for charges against this man Daniel unless it has something to do with the law of his God.” (Daniel 6:5)
  • I’m so thankful for our justice system. This whole inquiry must be costing a fortune. And it won’t lead to any convictions because it’s a fact-finding process. If the Crown wants to charge someone they will have to go through a trial. More money. But isn’t this wonderful? I’m so glad we live in a country where justice matters enough to spend money on. And we have lawyers that say things like, “What your reaction was is a separate question to what the facts are” (Mr Beer, KC). Facts! Which leads me onto my final and favourite point…
  • The truth matters. Our culture likes to pretend that truth is relative. It’s all about interpretation; nobody can tell me I’m wrong. But when it comes to people going to prison for crimes they did not commit, the whole country is united against that. Suddenly we all see the difference between true and false. The postmasters themselves can’t get their lives back, but they are desperate for people to know the truth. If your whole community thought you were a thief, the truth would matter to you, wouldn’t it? Because there is truth, and there are lies. And they’re different, and it matters.

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No-one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

This isn’t a plug for the Post Office Scandal, but if you are interested I recommend the Great Post Office Trial podcast on BBC sounds. It’s not for the faint-hearted.

True and Proper.

This weekend Mum in Zone One is 10 Years old! Thank you to those faithful readers who have been with me since the beginning – and to those we’ve picked up along the way! Please do tell your friends about it if you think they’d be encouraged.

The reason I started this blog was to encourage people – mums in particular – and to share real life and perhaps sometimes make you laugh. I wanted to lift up our eyes to Jesus in the midst of all the crumbs and chaos of parenting littlies. My second post, (10 yrs ago minus a week) was ‘Push, Push, Glide‘ about my daughter’s 4th Birthday. It seems funny to me now that the 4th Birthday of my eldest felt like such a milestone – but I know it really was.

Now of course, she’s 14. Soon I’ll have 2 teenagers. If you have a spread of ages in your household you’ll know that this means I get woken up before 7am by a bright-eyed tot and am still up late in the evening, sipping hot chocolate and talking to a wide-awake, suddenly-ready-to-talk teen. It’s an incalculable blessing. This lifestyle also requires me to spend myself for others in ways that don’t always seem reasonable! Do you ever just lean against a wall for a minute and wonder if someone could make you a cup of tea?

I recently read a great little book called ‘Sacrifice‘ by Simon Guillebaud. It’s very short – I read it in two sittings: one on the Victoria line (which is competing for the noisiest tube line in a field of strong contenders) and one in a soft play area (um – yeah). In summary I’d say it’s a massive kick up the backside for a self-care-giving generation. (I’m really holding back in my description here; you can fill in the blanks I’m sure.)

The book focuses on this verse from Romans 12:

Therefore I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God – this is your true and proper worship.

Romans 12:1

I wonder if people often think of worship as something glamorous and public – hands raised, heart abandoned etc. But if we mention ‘sacrifice’, I think everyone knows that as something hard. Hard, but glorious. In the UK we’ve just observed Remembrance Day, when we remember those who’ve fought for our freedom in conflicts – many of whom have offered their lives in sacrifice for ours. We know that sacrifice is not easy and it’s selfless. That’s why we remember them.

God, our most loving Heavenly Father, tells us that offering our bodies as a living sacrifice is our act of worship. So we’re not worshipping God if we’re not offering ourselves. And if we are offering ourselves freely to Him and to others, this pleases Him. When we set aside what we want and live for others, in order to honour God, then he is honoured.

So it’s worth it. It’s worth the late nights and early mornings, the driving around on a Friday night when you’d rather be on the sofa watching ‘All Creatures Great and Small.’ It’s worth wiping down the table and sweeping up the crumbs, knowing you’ll have to do it again in a few hours. It’s worth the meal prep, the uniform scrabbling, keeping up with the school newsletters, the Bible crafts, the 2am Calpol administration, the unfathomable laundry. It’s worth standing on the sidelines in the freezing cold and the discipline and the gift wrapping and the list making. If we offer these things to our families and to God with joy and a thankful heart, we’re spending ourselves on what really, really matters. It’s not waste. We’re investing our time, energy, all our resources, by offering them to the One who really deserves to be honoured and, in His mercy, can really bring fruit from all of this.

We won’t get everything we want. Then it wouldn’t be sacrifice. Guillebaud put it like this:

‘Our verse tells us that we are to be ‘holy and pleasing to God.’ The issue is full, undivided consecration, which means being dedicated, set apart for God. It involves surrendering our disappointments, hurts and fears, our longings, dreams and aspirations, our finances, health and hobbies, our family, friends, the lot… Holiness encompasses everything.’ p. 30.

Over the years I’ve lived in Chelsea, I’ve had to let go of some of my dreams. I’ve had to trust God and be willing to obey him. I’ve been disappointed. I’ve longed for things I wasn’t allowed to have. But even for that, I’m grateful. Idols give us what we want – for a short time. Because idols don’t love us. They’re like an unkind parent who leaves their child in front of a screen all day and lets them eat sweets until their teeth fall out. But not my Father. My Father loves me. He has set boundaries. He tells me ‘no.’ I dread to think where I’d be now if he’d given me what I wanted.

So let’s keep going. Let’s rejoice in the unseen ways we can serve others, offering it all up to God as our true and proper worship. Let’s trust God more than what our eyes can see. Let’s make our own cups of tea and be cheerful about it.

(If you’d like to hear a podcast episode on the topic of worship, featuring my husband Mike and myself, you can find it here or search for Delight Podcast Episode 12.)

Dads Behaving Badly – David

This Summer I’m doing a series called ‘Dads Behaving Badly.’ You can read the intro here. We’re learning about our good Heavenly Father through the not-good fathers we find in the Bible.

My final dad might be a surprising one. He’s also one of my OT heroes. It’s David. The man after God’s own heart, full of contradictions. The man who restrained himself from the evil of killing Saul – twice, and in between those events almost destroyed Nabal and all his property because of some bread.

Oh, David.

Incidentally, from what we know, David’s father Jesse seemed to ignore him a bit, but that’s not what I want to focus on right now. It probably didn’t help though.

I don’t know if you’ve got a challenging child, but I’m assuming that none of your children has organised a coup and tried to kill you so that you have to flee for your life. That’s what happened with Absalom. (This was after he murdered his brother for raping his sister. Once again, they make our family dynamics seem positively idyllic.)

David’s life is a bit of an epic narrative but long story short, we end up with a war between Team David and Team Absalom. But when it comes to the crunch, David doesn’t want Absalom to be killed. His men fight bravely for David and for the LORD, but all David seems to care about is Absalom: ‘Is the young man Absalom safe?’ (2 Samuel 18:29;32)

I guess we can sympathise here, but the problem is that Absalom is trying to kill God’s anointed king. Back in 1 Samuel, when King Saul was hounding David, David refused to harm God’s king. As he said himself, “But the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on the Lord’s anointed.” (1 Samuel 26:11)

But now that David is King, he’s too soft with his own son. He’s lost sight of what’s really important – God’s promises; God’s people; God’s glory – and is focused on one thing: his treacherous son’s safety.

As controversial as it might be to say it: this is child-led parenting at its worst.

This is the very definition of an extreme example. But this kind of parenting is growing in popularity and although it appears kind, gentle and patient it is actually really bad news. If David’s men had followed his orders then Absalom could have ended up in charge of God’s people.

As David should have known, the trouble with putting your child in charge is that it’s not God’s design. Despite our weakness and our faults, God has put us in charge, so we need to honour God’s authority by teaching our children to honour ours.

The world doesn’t acknowledge God’s authority, and so the world is happy to tell us to take the lead from our children. But let David and Absalom be our cautionary tale. I don’t want to end up with a coup in my home.

There’s now a generation of young adults who, in general terms, have been over-indulged and raised to think that they’re in charge. Discipleship will be hard for them because it starts with learning that God is actually the boss, not them. But in the gospel there is hope for them, just as there was hope for David, and Jonah (the spoilt brat), and the apostle Paul (the over-achiever).

As Paul wrote, we have an anointed King who reigns forever and if we keep him at the centre of our families, it will keep the coups at bay:

15 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.16 For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church;he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. (Colossians 1)

I will be rounding off this series with a Good Dad. I wonder if you can guess who it is. Tune in next week. If you’re enjoying this series, please share it with your friends. My blog is thus far a very well-kept secret.

Dads Behaving Badly – Eli

This Summer I’m doing a series called ‘Dads Behaving Badly.’ You can read the intro here. We’re learning about our good Heavenly Father through the not-good fathers we find in the Bible.

Today’s Dad is Eli. (One of the top comedy deaths in the Bible, surely.) Eli’s sons worked in the temple but were dirty rotten scoundrels. When Eli found out about their shenanigans, he did try to rebuke them but they didn’t listen.

It doesn’t specifically say this in the text but I do feel like Eli failed to discipline his sons when they were young. Why do they behave so terribly? Why don’t they fear God? Why don’t they listen to their father’s rebuke? Eli was happy to let them steal the fat from the sacrifices and feed it to him:

29 Why do you scorn my sacrifice and offering that I prescribed for my dwelling? Why do you honour your sons more than me by fattening yourselves on the choice parts of every offering made by my people Israel?’ 1 Samuel 2.

As a priest, Eli was in a position of huge responsibility, but he was a hypocrite. He didn’t respect God and he passed on that example to his irreverent sons.

Eli has set them a bad example, and as a result this very fat man (whose girth is mentioned repeatedly) dies a very sad and silly death:

18 When he mentioned the ark of God, Eli fell backward off his chair by the side of the gate. His neck was broken and he died, for he was an old man, and he was heavy. He had led Israel forty years. 1 Samuel 4.

God the Father is not like Eli. God disciplines the ones he loves. He puts his own glory first, and that’s what’s best for us. As parents, we know it’s hard to discipline our kids. The easiest thing would be not to bother. But out of love, we do it. And God disciplines us, too. How we need it!

My son, do not despise the Lord’s discipline,
    and do not resent his rebuke,
12 because the Lord disciplines those he loves,
    as a father the son he delights in. Proverbs 3

If you feel convicted by this story that you haven’t disciplined your own children, then fear not: you can start today. Our kind and gracious Father is ready to help us.

Nobody enjoys discipline, including the parent having to dish it out. But it’s part of loving our children, and it’s part of God’s love for us, too: “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” (Hebrews 12:11)

Righteousness and peace.

For those who have reached adulthood and realise they were never truly disciplined, there is grace and healing and love from our Father in Heaven. His Spirit is at work in us. He never stops sanctifying us. He who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6).

Tune in next week for another Dad Behaving Badly! You can subscribe to my blog by clicking on something… I think it might be a button that says ‘Follow.’

Dads Behaving Badly – Jacob

We’re in a summer series called ‘Dads Behaving Badly.’ You can read the first post here.

I hope it will encourage you that God is the perfect Father, that nobody is beyond his reach, and that he can turn any lost boy into a good father. I hope we can see together that even when a good father or husband is nowhere to be seen, we can look to God, our perfect Heavenly Father, and know that he is more than all-sufficient.

Our next example is Abraham’s grandson, Jacob (aka Israel). Did he respect women? He married two sisters so even by today’s standards that’s a poor start. Then he picked his favourites – Rachel’s boys. Unsurprisingly this led to a whole lot of resentment, not to mention attempted murder and the selling of Joseph into slavery:

3 Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornate robe for him.4 When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him. Genesis 37.

If things are getting trying in your home this summer, you might feel that nobody is saying a kind word. But hopefully things have not gotten quite this bad! Jacob’s favouritism has caused rifts which will take decades to heal, and even then only with the Lord’s intervention.

This is what God is not like as a Father. God does not show favouritism. We’re told that repeatedly in the New Testament, often in the context of Gentiles being saved along with Jews. He also tells us not to favour the rich over the poor. In Galatians 2 we see that God does not favour those of higher status.

God values everyone equally, so if you’ve ever been the less-favoured child or employee or member of your church, you should know that God does not operate like that. He keeps you as the apple of his eye and hides you in the shadow of his wings. (Psalm 17:8).

What good news this is to the child whose earthly father has favoured someone or something else over his children. Maybe you’ll get to show that wonderful truth to a child, or adult, soon. I hope so.

Tune in next time for another Dad Behaving Badly! You can subscribe to my blog by clicking on something… I think it might be a button that says ‘Follow.’

Summer Series – Dads Behaving Badly

When I was teaching in East London, we noticed that there was a big problem with many of the boys from single-parent families who didn’t respect the female members of staff. Not always and not all of them, but it was a noticeable trend.

I thought it seemed counter-intuitive. I thought that if you were raised by a strong and capable woman then that would lead you to respect women more. Now that I’ve lived on a council estate for 14 years and work in a boys’ school, I have a clearer sense of the cycle of problems often caused by absent fathers. (Council estates don’t have the monopoly on single mums, but single mums are often prioritised for social housing and so we do see a large number of people with absent fathers in our area.)

We all learn by example, so if fathers and father-figures are missing then it’s harder for boys to learn to respect women because they haven’t seen it modelled to them. Absent fathers can leave daughters vulnerable and sons not knowing how to be men. This does not have to be true, but it’s my view that boys with a present, protective father are much more likely to know how to treat women well.

(This is one irony of feminism and “women’s lib” by the way, but that’s a topic for a different blog post.)

What can be done? We can’t make men be good dads. What hope is there in the gospel for the fatherless?

As always, the gospel provides surprising and miraculous hope.

With this in mind, I’ve been thinking about dads in the Bible and what they teach us about God. There are some great fathers, and great moments of fatherhood in the Bible. There are also some really bad examples of how to be a dad, and these also teach us (by way of contrast) about God’s character.

These men show us how gracious God is. They show us that God can take any family, no matter how messy, sinful, dysfunctional, idolatrous, murderous, lazy, dishonest or proud and can save them and bring them into his people.

And so let me introduce you to a Summer Series: Dads Behaving Badly. I hope it will encourage you that God is the perfect Father, that nobody is beyond his reach, and that he can turn any lost boy into a good father. I hope we can see together that even when a good father or husband is nowhere to be seen, we can look to God, our perfect Heavenly Father, and know that he is more than all-sufficient.

I should start with Father Abraham.

I don’t mean any disrespect to Abraham, the great patriarch, but he did have his moments. Today I’m thinking of the way he treated his firstborn, Ishmael. That was a disaster from pre-conception, but since Ishmael was his son, he should have been a good father to him.

Before Ishmael was born, Abraham neglected Hagar and let Sarah turf her out:

6 “Your slave is in your hands,” Abram said. “Do with her whatever you think best.” Then Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her. (Genesis 16)

Here Abraham shirks his responsibility completely. Hagar must have felt utterly rejected and desperate, but God sent an angel of the Lord to her to reassure her:

13 She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” (Genesis 16)

When nobody else saw Hagar, the Lord saw her.

The Lord’s eyes are on the vulnerable. If you’ve ever learnt anything about vulnerable children, it’s those who are neglected and left to their own devices who are most likely to be preyed upon by gangs or dealers or terrorists. Nobody else sees them. But the Lord sees them.

We have a similar episode later on, in Chapter 21. The illegitimate son has been sent into the desert again. His mother puts him under a bush to die. They’re completely destitute and unwanted.

17 God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. 18 Lift the boy up and take him by the hand, for I will make him into a great nation.”

When Abraham didn’t, or couldn’t, be a father to Ishmael, God was there. He provided for Ishmael’s needs. He heard Hagar and her son, when nobody else did.

This is such good news for people who have neither been seen nor heard. In the gospel we meet the God who sees, the God who hears and the God who provides.

This world is broken, full of sinners. But we can all be made whole by the God who was with Hagar in the desert.

Tune in next time for another Dad Behaving Badly! You can subscribe to my blog by clicking on something… I think it might be a button that says ‘Follow.’

Book Review – Raising Confident Kids in a Confusing World

Hi there, I’ve written a review – or more of an exhortation – over at the Delight Podcast blog about Ed Drew’s new parenting book. A less mature person might call it a Book Reddrew but I’m a teacher, I have standards.

I wanted to tell you the story of how I first met Ed Drew, but it could be misinterpreted so I didn’t want to inadvertently slander him. However, I will tell you that I last saw him at the Choir!Choir!Choir! 80s night at the Clapham Grand in which we learnt a four part harmony to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. This isn’t relevant to anything really, I’m just glad I got to tell you about it. Please read the review, and more importantly the book. And, you know, don’t stop believing [in Jesus].

To this I will appeal

I’ve been thinking lately about how the Psalms can help us to know what to pray. This is something people always say but I’ve usually found quite difficult. Recently I visited a friend, Penny, who has been amazing at sharing psalms with me that really speak into my situation. Today I’d like to tell you about one such psalm.

Sometimes we go through seasons of real struggle, where we’re praying for relief and it doesn’t come. We know the Lord is sovereign, so we wonder why he’s not answering our cries.

At times like this, we might be kept awake at night, knowing that the One who “grants sleep to those he loves” (Ps 127:2) could easily drift us off into a peaceful slumber. We might use this time to pray, but no comfort comes. Then it’s morning again, and nothing is better.

During these seasons we might remember how things were six months ago or six years ago. How we used to laugh, how carefree we were, what exciting plans we had made. We try to pray, but only tears come. I try to recite Scripture, and the words get stuck in my throat.

Is something wrong with me? Am I a proper Christian?

This is the experience of Asaph the psalmist, as described in Psalm 77. And since it’s there in God’s word, I know that God our Father is not surprised by this. Not only does he care, but he’s equipped us with the words to say when no words will come.

He speaks the unspeakable for me.

There are those who will tell you that at times like this, God will send you a sign. He will give you a lightbulb moment, a Road-to-Damascus or an Isaiah 6-facedown-in-the-temple experience. You will see the Lord, and all will become clear.

But sometimes that isn’t what happens. In fact, I don’t think we should expect that to be the normal Christian experience.

So what should I do, when it seems that God has “forgotten to be merciful”? (Psalm 77, v9)

I can tell you what Asaph did. Asaph used his brain, and he used what he already knew about God:

Then I thought, ‘To this I will appeal:

… I will remember the deeds of the LORD;

yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.

Psalm 77:10a;11.

He decided to remind himself what God is like, based on what God had done for his people in the past.

For Asaph, the most amazing example of this was the miraculous parting of the Red Sea: God’s means of rescuing his people from slavery in Egypt.

For us, that is surely the crucifixion and resurrection of the Messiah, the Son of God: God’s means of rescuing his people from slavery to sin.

Does God love me? Yes. He did not withhold from me his one and only Son.
(Romans 8:32)

Is God powerful to do miracles? Yes. He raised Christ from the dead.
(Ephesians 1:18-20)

When the happy feelings aren’t coming, when sleep evades you and when prayers seem unheard, let’s appeal to this: Christ is Risen indeed. Hallelujah!

Now the daylight flees, now the ground beneath
quakes as its Maker bows his head.
Curtain torn in two, dead are raised to life;
‘Finished!’ the victory cry.

…Oh, to see my name written in the wounds,
for through your suffering I am free.
Death is crushed to death, life is mine to live,
won through your selfless love.

This, the power of the cross:
Son of God – slain for us.
What a love! What a cost!
We stand forgiven at the cross.

(Keith Getty; Stuart Townend)

Learning to Lament

I wrote yesterday about my recent journey of discovery regarding my own wisdom and God’s wisdom. (The upshot: God is infinitely wise; I’m not.)

A month ago I was diagnosed with a rare, chronic endocrine disorder called Addison’s Disease. If you’re the type of person who worries that they have an illness, let me tell you that the chances of you having it are infinitesimally small. (Seriously, if you’re somebody who a) reads my blog and b) knows they have Addison’s, please comment below. And perhaps buy a lottery ticket (joke).)

This is a chronic condition that is treatable but not curable. I’ll most likely have it until (whoop whoop) I get my new body from the Lord Jesus.

Let me tell you that these past few weeks have not been a time of serenely delving into God’s word and floating on a cloud of the peace which transcends understanding. I hope I can encourage you today, but from the perspective of someone who’s weak and broken in the storm rather than someone sleeping on a cushion.

When shocking news comes, most people go through a range of emotions. I’ve been through a few and haven’t finished. There was a day when I cried a lot. I prayed and I didn’t feel like praying, I listened to music, I talked to family members. I was grief-stricken. I was grieving the loss of my health.

I’m so grateful, and I was even on that teary day, that we’re allowed to be sad. Here are some things you sometimes hear, which don’t help at all:

  • Life is hard and we should expect things like this

I know we live in a fallen and broken world, full of disease and death. But I also know that God made us for life, not death, and our hearts long for the world without any of this. (See for example Romans 8:22-25)

  • I’m strong

I’m weak. There’s nothing quite like an illness to drive this home. But in my weakness, the Lord is my strength. (See for example 2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

  • Things could be worse: I should just be grateful for the care I’m given

I am grateful for good care. Chatting to a friend from Côte d’Ivoire, I was reminded that I don’t need to choose between food and medicine. But I’m also grateful that God doesn’t compare me to others, and I’m allowed to be sad about the dependence on medicine whilst also giving thanks for his provision.

  • It’s not a big deal

It feels big to me. The Lord doesn’t weigh up my problem and decide whether to meet us in it or not. (Remember when God made Elisha’s mate’s axe head float?) He knows our hearts. He’s patient with me, guiding me through. The more we depend on him, the more we honour him. (See for example Psalm 23; Psalm 131)

(Aside: Sometimes we don’t feel able to read our Bibles. That’s when we need our friends to preach to us. I hope you’ve got friends like that. I’ve also found that using a Bible app that reads the Word out to me can help me when I don’t have the energy to lift my head.)

So it’s not wrong to be sad about things. But if I had no hope, I’m not sure I’d dare to lament.

As a Christian, with the hope of eternal life, I see in the psalms that lamenting is a process which doesn’t last forever. In order to reach the level ground of acceptance or the dizzy heights of heartfelt, joyful thanksgiving, I need to pass through the valley of lament.

A dear friend preached Psalm 13 to me the week I was diagnosed. She showed me that the Lord has gone before me. He knows that at times I will feel that he has hidden his face from me. I will wrestle with my thought as my mind races with fears and anxiety and my heart is filled with sorrow. But because I bring all of that to him, I can say with David:

But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me. (v5-6)