If you grew up hearing that Halloween was the celebration of evil, you might feel as shocked as I did when the question was posed to me. When I considered how the two holidays might relate to the gospel, the thought of Halloween being a superior picture seemed downright heretical.

Until I took my youngest son trick-or-treating.  

Costume design is not my forte, so my son dressed in his baseball pants, his team t-shirt, donned his ball glove, and went as a baseball player. As we strolled down the sidewalks, I counted about 27 princesses and nearly as many ninja warriors. A walking vending machine wobbled around us as we stepped up to ring a doorbell, and a few pixelated Minecraft characters flew across the yard, taking a shortcut to the next house.

Considering my own lack of costume-creativity, I was enthralled with the artful parade of of characters.

But there were also scary and downright disgusting costumes that made me want to cover the eyes of every tiny trick-or-treater on the street.

Hordes of people trickled down the sidewalks and streets, stumbling over cumbersome costumes, running door to door.

Head wounds.
Scars.
Feigned diseases.
A man with a supposed gouged eyeball.
Creatures limping and growling.

I stepped back for the wide view.

It occurred to me that Jesus’ earthly ministry was probably a little more like Halloween than I like to imagine.

I thought of Jesus and his disciples disembarking on Galilee’s eastern shore when they were startled by a mad man running and screaming at them. Broken chains dangled from his limbs, and his naked body bore a web of scars and scabs from self-inflicted wounds (Mark 5:1-8).

Disgusting.

Another time, after a horrific night at sea when his disciples mistook him for a ghost, Jesus stepped ashore at a place called Gennesaret. When the people there recognized him as the one who had fed a multitude on the other side of the lake, they brought all their sick friends, family, and neighbors to him.

Gross.

Parents brought him their children suffering from hacking coughs, oozing sores, injured limbs and faces. Desperate sufferers cried, moaning and hollering so they wouldn’t be overlooked. Mothers carried lethargic babies, and fathers cradled skeleton-like children.

People on the verge of physical and spiritual death flocked to Jesus. (Mark 6:45-56). They came in hordes from all over the surrounding country, begging him for help and hope. (Matthew 4:23-25)

And what did Jesus do when the helpless and harassed came running down the streets and shores to him?

He wasn’t disgusted. He had compassion on them. To him, they were like sheep without a shepherd, and as The Good Shepherd, he welcomed every desperate soul. He also taught them, spoke about the kingdom of God, healed their sick, and changed them (Matthew 9:35-36).

In Dane Ortlund’s new book, Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers, he shines a glorious spotlight on the heart of Christ and who he is. Ortlund unpacks the biblical case for Christ’s most natural response to needy people who come to Jesus for help. “The posture most natural to him is not a pointed finger but open arms” (p.19).

Ortlund writes, “[Christ] does not cringe at reaching out and touching dirty sinners and numbed sufferers. Such embrace is precisely what he loves to do. He cannot bear to hold back. We naturally think of Jesus touching us the way a little boy reaches out to touch a slug for the first time—face screwed up, cautiously extending an arm, giving a yelp of disgust upon contact, and instantly withdrawing” (p. 24).

But, he continues, “…if the actions of Jesus are reflective of who he most deeply is, we cannot avoid the conclusion that it is the very fallenness which he came to undo that is most irresistibly attractive to him” (p. 30).

Ortlund expounds, describes, and biblically proves that the very heart of Christ (as well as what he has done) is the “wonderful extra good news” we sang about so many years ago in Sunday school.

Some books make you want to change yourself or change your world. This book made me want to kneel in adoration and worship Christ.

I don’t know if Jesus would have had a bowl of candy at his house or not. He never claimed a permanent earthly address. But I know that if he had, the line at his place would have been long because Jesus drew a crowd everywhere he went (Matthew 4:25).

The line wouldn’t have been moving fast, either. It was his life’s work to address physical and spiritual needs, and that takes time. His miracles weren’t “an interruption of the natural order but the restoration of the natural order. We are so used to a fallen world that sickness, disease, pain, and death seem natural. In fact, they are the interruption” (p. 31).

I suppose His disciples would try to hurry the line or disperse the children. Parents worried about getting home before dark might urge their children to “skip that house.” But I bet Jesus would tell them all, “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me” (Mark 9:37). 

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14).

Jesus was never one to miss a teachable moment.

Whether we admit it or not, without Christ, we are spiritually helpless and harassed. Without Christ, we are the sinners and sufferers. It’s just that in the 21st century, we’ve figured out how to dress it up and rename it so we don’t come across as spiritual beggars–people unable to earn what we desperately need.

But the kingdom of heaven belongs to people like that.

Our best hope is to come to Jesus with empty hands, offering him nothing as payment for what we need and cannot buy:

Grace.

Mercy.

Forgiveness.

Everything that flows from his gentle and lowly heart.

And to everyone who receives him, to those who believe on his name, he GIVES the right to become children of God (John 1:12). No matter how you’re dressed. No matter how sick you’ve been, or how desperate you feel. He gives to everyone willing to receive what he is handing out.

Come empty. Leave full. Be changed by a Savior who delights in showing compassion and mercy to those who know they need it.

For the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.

The post The Gospel According to… Halloween? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

I’m not sure who first said it, but life sure has a way of validating the statement, doesn’t it?

Pandemic, anyone?

Add to that a thousand physical, emotional, and spiritual battles along the way, and we realize that to live is to face trials. Pandemic or not.

Doesn’t it make you long for a time when you can retire on a beach and cast your trials into the ocean? But by that time, I suspect we’ll be carrying the trials and concerns of a lifetime of people we’ve met or produced.

So when I bump into a passage of scripture like James 1:2-12, I feel offended. Maybe even defeated.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds…”

Why? How? And what if I don’t want to? 

It got me thinking about God’s purposes in trials.

Why does he allow them, and why do they seem so constant? And why on earth am I supposed to consider it joy?

I kept reading in James and found a few answers and two liberating truths.

1. God’s purpose for trials in a believer’s life is to grow something in you that you can’t produce by yourself.

When we face trials, we can be certain that God is producing spiritual perseverance in us.  When we endure, God produces maturity. Think of it as increased lung capacity for a long walk of obedience. 

A mature person is wise, but trials have a way of making you feel like a big dumb-dumb. If you go into a trial thinking, “Oh well, I know exactly what to do in this situation,” then you’re not really experiencing it as a trial. It’s just a task.

But if you don’t know what to do in your trial, James (Jesus’ younger half-brother!) points you straight: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (James 1:5)

God gives wisdom. He gives it generously, and he gives it to everyone without criticizing or finding fault. I love the J.B. Philips paraphrase that says, “If any of you does not know how to meet any particular problem, he has only to ask God—who gives generously to all without making them feel foolish or guilty.”

Do you feel foolish or guilty asking God to grant wisdom in your trial? Do you hear some jerk in your head mocking, “Good grief, you ought to have this figured out by now!”

Rest assured, those accusations are not from your Father.

But when we ask God for wisdom, there is one condition James warns us about. “When you ask, you must believe and not doubt,” which is to say, we must ask God in faith.

What does it mean to “ask God in faith?” Should I shut my eyes and concentrate on what I want to happen? Should I wish on a star then crack one eye open to see if God’s doing what I wished?

That strategy is brought to you via Disney movies. Believers have something better. We ask the creator of the stars. But when we ask, we must believe that the wisdom he gives is true and worth heeding.

Sometimes we ask God what we should do, and then we wait around to evaluate his response to see if it’s something we prefer and approve.

That’s the opposite of asking in faith.

And if that’s the route I take, I had better buckle up for a dizzying ride that’s likely to cause spiritual motion sickness.

Photo by Mourad Saadi on Unsplash

“The one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.  That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.” (James 1:6-7).

Instead of being led by wisdom, I’ll lose my footing in my trial. I’ll be tossed wherever the unpredictable winds of doubt and feeling and circumstance drive me.

Picture an inflated pink innertube sunning itself on the beach like a misplaced donut. Suddenly, a gust of wind flips it into the air. It rolls and bounces down the beach, splashing into the water. Whitecaps slap it around, and that pink floaty hurtles toward the middle of the lake. It is tossed by the wind with nothing to anchor it down.

When we ask God for wisdom but hesitate to heed it, we’ll find ourselves tossed like that pink innertube. We know we ought to “trust in the Lord with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5), but when we waver about God’s wisdom, the only thing left to lean on is our own understanding.

And that’s a little ironic because we didn’t understand what to do in the first place. It’s the very definition of unstable doublemindedness (James 1:8). Sometimes we don’t realize we’re doubleminded until we’re neck-deep in water with sand washing out from under our feet. 

So God allows a trial to show us what we’re ultimately depending on. He desires to be your dependable anchor when circumstances toss you around.

2. God’s purpose for trials in a believer’s life is to demonstrate the authenticity of your faith and reward it.

I used to wonder if God was dishing out hard stuff, watching for me to face plant, and waiting to see if I’d act happy about it. But the bookends of this passage (verses 2 and 12) tell me a far different story.

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him (James 1:12).

God uses the tool of trials to prove the authenticity of your faith to you.

As God provides wisdom and builds endurance in you, your faith is validated and demonstrated to you!

You don’t earn points with God for choosing an unnecessarily hard path. But when you remain dependent on Christ even when you don’t know what to do, we call it perseverance. 

To persevere means that in trial after trial, you remained dependent on Jesus. You turned your face to him for wisdom. You thanked him that regardless of the outcome of the trial, you are secure in Christ because of the gospel.

God rewards believers who endure by depending on Him.

After we have stood the test, God rewards believers with the “crown of life.” It’s a picture of the blessing God gives as a prize to those who have remained dependent on Him.

“These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” (1 Peter 1:7-9, NLT)

God proves the authenticity of your faith to you by growing your perseverance, and then he rewards it.

Through trials, God proves himself trustworthy, he proves our faith genuine, and by means of both, our love for God grows. The crown of life is not a reward for those who deserve it. It’s given to those who love him (James 1:12).

In short, we mature. And that brings joy.

What is tossing you around?

What trial are you dreading?

Is it a  treatment? A test result? A conversation with your boss, your coworker, your husband, or your child?

View it as the vehicle through which God will generously dump wisdom–biblical skill for the art of living–into your mind and heart.

What trial is so discouraging that it’s nearly suffocating you?

Lack of connection? Lack of sleep? Lack of spiritual health in yourself, your family, or your church? Is it the financial grenades that keep landing in your bank account? Is it the barrage of sadness, pain, and injustice our world is experiencing?

If you find yourself being smacked by whitecaps like a river floaty, you can turn your face to Jesus at any moment and anchor-down.

In the gospel, Jesus is like a strong dad who fires up the boat to chase a rogue innertube. He scoops it out of the water, straps it to the boat, and secures it. The wind blows, the innertube flutters under the strap, but it is secured.

When we are discouraged, doubting, or distrusting, our position in Christ is secured. The fact that you return to the good news of  the gospel is outward evidence of your inward and authentic faith. 

God gives wisdom. Through Christ’s redeeming work, he has secured you.

Consider it all joy.

The post Why this trial? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Self-Care.

Stop right there. Did you just roll your eyes?

I did. Or at least I used to.

“Self care” sounded like a personality assessment, painted toe nails, and coffee with an elaborate drawing in the foamed milk. It seemed less than helpful to me. I mean, as believers in Jesus, aren’t we supposed to spend ourselves on behalf of the poor (Isaiah 58:10)? And shouldn’t we to consider others as better than ourselves (Phillipians 2:3)? And don’t we work heartily as though we’re working for the Lord (Colossians 3:23)?

Well…Yes. But…

You know the line from the airline attendant? In an emergency secure your own oxygen mask before assisting others. That’s a pretty convincing reason to care for yourself. It doesn’t require a tropical vacation, or a stranger slopping polish on your toes. It’s just securing emotional and spiritual oxygen so you can safely assist others.

The reality is that life is made of assisting others. It’s a blessing and a privilege and ultimately it is for the Glory of God. But that doesn’t mean it’s not tiring, and there’s no shame in admitting it. In fact admission is the starting point.

Emily Allen, founder of Kindred Mom, recently wrote about the reality of caring for self and others:

“I must begin to see that in order to do all of those things, I can’t “give it my best shot” and resign myself to a dramatic crash-and-burn every few months. I have to value myself as a human person who has real needs, real limitations, and real desires that long to be fulfilled. I must build my life around wholesome and restorative habits that allow me to be a strong and steady presence for my family without ignoring myself in the process.”

Her words reminded me of a scene from the gospel of Luke…

*******

Martha tip-toed into the room where Jesus was speaking to the guests. She padded around the table setting plates at each spot. She did not want to disturb him or her other guests.

She did, however, want to disturb Mary. She let the last plate clatter into place to get Mary’s attention. But no one noticed.

Not even Mary.

Martha hurried back to the kitchen where the kettle was spitting into the fire. She snatched it out, and when she did boiling water splashed out the spout and splattered on her toes. She pressed her lips closed, let out the faintest growl, and dabbed the droplets off her toes.

Martha, huffed in the doorway once again to catch Mary’s eye and rouse her from laziness. Perhaps an uncomfortably long stop in the doorway would shake Mary out of her childlike trance. Martha waited, but Mary was hopelessly caught up in every word Jesus was saying.

It was a sight. And Martha intended to end it. When Jesus paused mid-sentence Martha interrupted, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself! Tell her to help me!”

Mary started to stand, but Jesus held out his hand directing her to stay.

“Dear Martha,” He shook his head. “You are worried and upset about many things.” Yes! Martha had wanted to answer, that’s why I’m mentioning it!

“Only one thing is needed.” Jesus turned back to Mary settling in again on the floor at his feet, but He spoke to Martha. “Mary has chosen what is better, and it cannot be taken away from her.”

*******

This is Martha, in the words of Emily Allen, crashing and burning. And this is Mary, in the words of an airline attendant, securing her oxygen by learning from Jesus. He is gentle and humble, and as Mary listens He gives her rest. Sounds a little like “self-care” to me.

The irony is that caring for ourselves by receiving rest and care from Christ enlivens our efforts to assist those around us. In his book The Radical Pursuit of Rest, John Koessler writes, “The effort of the Christian life is energized by rest. Biblical rest does not make us passive or unproductive. It is the secret to all productivity in the Christian life.”

When we begin from a place of rest—mind, body, and soul—we can more effectively spend ourselves on behalf of the poor. In our own families we’ll be better equipped to consider others before ourselves. And we will experience hearty work for the Lord as a privilege and a delight because the work we do for Christ is the natural outworking of what he has already done for us.

Self-care? Don’t roll your eyes. Caring for yourself by receiving rest and care from Christ is the best place to start in caring for others.

If you find yourself in need of self-care (or more convincing of its necessity!), here are two places to start:

Kindred Mom Self-Care Series: Founder Emily Allen writes specifically to moms, but her words ring true to all. Through a series of beautiful essays and podcasts Emily and her team remind us that “self-care is essential and that engaging it is not as costly, nor as complicated as many of us make it out to be.”

{Find the essays here, or receive them via email by signing up here. Listen to the podcast here.}

The Radical Pursuit of Rest: Escaping the Productivity Trap, by John Koessler, (chair and professor of pastoral studies and Moody Bible Institute.) This mercifully short treatise on biblical rest is insightful and beautifully written. He restores the biblical meaning of the rest Jesus offers. Koessler writes for “ordinary people who hope to experience the easy yoke of Christ in the midst of struggle under normal circumstances…”

The post On Caring for Yourself without Rolling Your Eyes appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

And when “our guy” did lose, I half expected to wake up a political exile.

I know the people around me didn’t mean to be fear mongers. They were just expressing concerns, talking them out, and encouraging folks to exercise their right to vote. But the unintended consequence was that I was scared.

It’s a difficult beam to walk when the screens and airwaves around our kids are filled with people sometimes literally screaming about the havoc and doom that will befall our country if so-and-so is elected. And while I’m so grateful we have the privilege to participate in the process—no matter how ugly—I’m finding it’s more important to present democratic process to my kids with far less hysteria.

They’re paying attention much younger than I was. And I suppose it’s due to the collective public fervor and angst.

They’re repeatedly asking, “Mom, who are you going to vote for?”

And I owe them a well-reasoned response as well as responsible example.

So here are three things I want my kids to know regarding elections, no matter the candidate, no matter the issue, and no matter the culture.

1. Nothing’s New

To quote King Solomon, “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” {Ecclesiastes 1:9}. I maintain that if Solomon were living in 2016 he would have a huge following on twitter. He summarized the election cycle in 102 characters, counting spaces.

Perhaps we will see what we hoped we’d never see. But God has seen it all, and for centuries he’s been guiding his children through the roughest political and literal waters.

2. God will make a way.

He will make a way, not necessarily for your candidate, but for his children and his plan. He will make a way for his people to connect and his gospel to spread because no plan of his can be thwarted.

3. Don’t be afraid.

Andy Stanley had a little video clip circulating where he repeatedly chided the adults in his congregation to, “stop scaring the children” with all the doom and gloom hysteria. We might tell our kids “God is in control,” but if we run around frantically posting and bantering as if we’re afraid he’s fallen asleep on the job, then we’re living incongruent lives. Kids will notice, and they will believe our actions long before they believe our words.

Throughout Scripture God’s people are told, “Do not be afraid.” So clearly, he knows our tendencies.

It sounds silly, and maybe I was an extra sensitive teenager hopped up on teenage angst before I even started watching the election results. But I’m guessing the kids who are listening these days might be a little worried when they wake up November 9th regardless of what happens.

Let’s teach our kids by our words and behavior that we have serious responsibilities where our country is concerned. But let’s also make it clear that our certainty and hope are not in a volatile candidate, a tumultuous party, or a divided country. Our hope and certainty rests securely in God.

If your soul sometimes feels ragged and you’d like to get a little rest and relief in your inbox,

please sign up below to receive these posts via email.

The post Where to Find Relief from a Noisy Election Cycle appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

It’s one of my favorite verses. It even appears at the end of everything you read here. Sometimes it seems a little funny to quote the whole verse though because its context is colored with an unfamiliar agricultural metaphor.

What on earth is a yoke?

In modern terms, it was a farm implement. The apparatus that bound two animals together in their work of pulling the plow. While the stronger animal bore the bulk of the weight, a smaller, younger animal learned from him. He learned the foreign language of their driver’s commands, and he learned it was easier to stagger forward together than to rebel against being held so close.

I like how Dr. John Koessler explains the metaphor Jesus uses.

“The yoke of rest that Jesus offers can be taken, but it cannot be seized by force. We do not manage ourselves into it, acquire it by bargain or even attain it by discipline. Rest as Jesus describes it must be done for us. … What Jesus says might be translated something like “I will rest you” or “I will refresh you.” This rest is as relational as it is experiential. We come to Christ and he refreshes us. We do not come to Christ, receive our rest and then go our way. By offering us rest, Christ offers himself.”

(The Radical Pursuit of Rest, p.32)

I will rest you.

I will teach you.

It’s good news, isn’t it?

We don’t have to muster up enthusiasm to prove to him we’re ready and willing to work. We don’t need to manufacture some spiritual strength. We don’t even have to know how to do it.

He is the initiator, the teacher, the burden bearer.

There’s just one thing that’s up to us.

Our job is to come to him. Weary, burdened, uninstructed, but eager to be fastened to the one who teaches and rests us.

And that is easy and light and particularly good news.

The post An Easy Burden? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Isolation, worry, and failure to live up to my own expectations. They all collided and stirred up a toxic cocktail I never wanted to drink. I’d never felt anything like it before. My head knew it was unreasonable, but my grown-up pep talk did nothing to settle my nausea, calm my breathing, or strengthen my legs.

With my kids eating lunch at the table, I collapsed on my kitchen floor. I tried to catch my breath and prayed I would not vomit. I thought maybe it was a heart attack.

Turns out it was an anxiety attack.

“The weight of anxiety is the soul’s misapprehension. It is the thinking of people who see themselves as orphaned. Such anxiety is the anguished cry of a soul that has forgotten it has a Father in heaven.”

(Dr. John Koessler, The Radical Pursuit of Rest, p. 24)

And I had forgotten that and a lot of other important truths as well.

Photo courtesy of the talented Hannah Bollinger, Writer at WovenBeautiful.com

Anxiety can be induced by a multitude of catalysts, and I won’t pretend to be an expert on it.

I do know it was a scary experience,  but it was also the beginning of starting to remember some of what I’d forgotten:

• Every circumstance of family life does not depend on me.
• God’s plan cannot be messed up—even by me.
• And God does not fail to notice when a sparrow falls from the sky or when a mom collapses in her kitchen.

Over time I learned that God lovingly allows—even orchestrates–a shocking collapse in the same way a loving father plucks a burr from a child’s hand and applies a burning antiseptic to help it heal.

One way to rest from the weight of worry is to remember that we are not orphaned because he is our loving Father.

And remembering that can be the beginning of forgetting what made us anxious.

The post One Way to Rest from the Weight of Worry appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

My blood pressure just rose to an unhealthy fraction while typing that sentence.

Photo courtesy of Hannah Bollinger, Writer at WovenBeautiful.com

I recently read a fantastic book which beautifully articulates what I have difficulty putting into words. It’s titled The Radical Pursuit of Rest: Escaping the Productivity Trap, and it’s written by Dr. John Koessler. He is chair and professor of pastoral studies at Moody Bible Institute and has written this mercifully short treatise on rest.

Pursuing rest does seem radical, doesn’t it? Counter cultural, maybe? Some might even think it a little rebellious.

We are congratulated when we pursue goals, dreams, careers, achievements, and even volunteerism. All those things are good and laudable. But a constant striving to do, be, produce, and perform is exhausting. Whether at work, school, home or in the church, rest is not rewarding without the gift of work, but work is unsustainable without the gift of rest.

Dr. Koessler writes:

“We need the rest that only Christ can provide. The rest of Christ is both a remedy and a relief. But more than anything else it is a gift.”

The way to rest even with a demanding schedule is to remember that no matter how you “perform” in each of your tasks, Christ has already performed the hardest work on your behalf.

He will rest you.

And after we have received his rest, our most reasonable, natural impulse will be to delight and rest in him.

And sometimes we call that worship.

The post How to Hustle, Rest, & Worship appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

On each station, at 5 to-the-hour, the news is reported. For five minutes the hapless reporter force feeds horrific headlines, updates on things you wish you’d never heard, and the incessant bickering of the entire world.

Some days, I just can’t ingest any more of it.

And while that might make me an emotional wimp, I know I’m not the only one who sometimes feels like we’re drowning in bad news.

Because right after the radio news report, radio personality Ryan Seacrest, hosts a segment which appears to be an attempt to counter the unbearable news.

He answers every call by saying, “Tell me somethin’ good!” Callers say, “I got a new job” or “My grand-baby was born today.”

It’s pleasant, but it’s not going to change your life. It doesn’t offer lasting hope, and if you lost your job that day, it might even feel like a punch in the gut.

However, even Ryan Seacrest and his producers have detected our collective craving for the fresh air of good news.

Any good news, as it turns out. Just a little tidbit of something that won’t make you cringe. Even if the airwaves are thin with hope or polluted with raunchy lyrics on either side, it is a temporary, nanosecond of relief.

Since I’m not inclined to call into Ryan Seacrest’s show, I decided to tell YOU something good.

Sometimes I have look hard for good news, but sometimes it comes drifting through my news feed with a title like this:

In this World of Fakers, Tragedies, and Lies…THIS is Legit.

It’s an article by our friend Zeke Pipher, who recently traveled to Bolivia with Compassion International and had the privilege of meeting his family’s sponsored child.

If you need a breath of fresh good news, (or maybe you need to shed a few happy tears), I’d encourage you to read it, and click on through to Compassion International.

Then, either in the comments here, or on facebook, I’ll take a cue from Ryan Seacrest and ask you to “tell me somethin’ good.”

The post Tell Me Somethin’ Good appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Like the exact shape of Kevin Durant’s logo.

The precise lyric of a Tim Hawkins parody.

Who’s fishing lure got dropped in the lake.

They went round and round, name-calling, bet-making, and demanding I settle meaningless disputes.

(Not only do I not care about Kevin Durant’s logo, it bothers me that you care so deeply!!)

In a moment of frustration (and perhaps a little panic), I decided we needed make some serious adjustments.
With the help of Google, I found out our local Boys and Girls Club has a summer program to take kids to the pool several times a week. Besides that, they have an indoor basketball court! They could shoot hoops and swim in a supervised environment, and I could have consecutive, uninterrupted hours to concentrate.

It was a win-win.

Until I mentioned it.

The boys stared in stunned silence for about 20 seconds as if I had just announced we were giving them away. Then they began their protests.

Mom! That’s like daycare!

WHAT?!!! We don’t know anyone there!

I am NOT going!

I named some friends who attend and brought up the pool and basketball court. They were not convinced, but I was not dissuaded.

Later that day I heard one say to his brother, “Stop arguing or mom’s going to send us to the Boys and Girls Club.” (Nothing against the Boys and Girls Club, it’s just that my kids are accustomed to their unstructured summer.)

Then that evening when I walked into the bathroom, I noticed something I never imagined I’d see in my house.
Right there hanging on the wall I noticed the toilet paper with its loose end folded into a neat, centered point. Just the way a hotel housekeeper folds it to let you know they’ve been there to tidy up.

What on earth?

I asked, “Who folded the toilet paper into a point, and why?!”

Finally, one son confessed and added, “Well…I didn’t want to go to the Boys and Girls Club!”

I wanted to die laughing and bawl my eyes out at the same time.

I’m not terribly impressed with neatly folded toilet paper. It doesn’t help our day go better. In my opinion, it doesn’t really qualify as serving or appreciating or being kind. It’s just an external flourish to let someone know you’ve been there. And you folded the toilet paper to prove it.

It’s not critical, and certainly not what I was after.

For a moment I understood with a bit more clarity what the prophet Samuel meant when he said, “to obey is better than sacrifice.” Or, as paraphrased by me, to do the right thing in the first place is better than doing frivolous things to make up for doing the wrong thing.

I would rather my boys make an effort to be kind, to assume the best, and be accommodating to one another.

I’m talking something as simple as,

“Will you get my water bottle?”

“Sure.”

But instead, they take their arguments outdoors where I can’t hear and fold toilet paper into a perfect point hoping that will make it better.

It gave me a moment to ponder where I’m trying to cover up disobedience with external flourishes which are fancy and noticeable, but far from essential. And to evaluate, on the other hand, what is essential to glorify God and benefit others.

The truth is, there is probably more tidying up to do in my heart than in my schedule. Which, most times, means I get to stop doing something rather than add something to my list.

I get to stop stewing in anger.

I get to stop worrying about things I can’t control—which, incidentally, is just about everything.

I get to stop policing opinions.

And with those things nixed from my list, I’m free to spend that energy doing what I should have done in the first place: to love the One who rescued me and point others toward Him. In a word, obey.

And that’s a relief for everyone. Because the last thing we need is one more to-do list item that amounts to nothing more than a neatly folded square of toilet paper.

The post To Obey is Better than Sacrifice: A Modern Day Parable from My House appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Mary had a little lamb,

Its fleece was white as snow.

And everywhere that Mary went,

The lamb was sure to go.

In nursery rhymes, pithy sayings, Sunday school lessons, books, blogs, social research and Scripture we learn that for better or for worse, our children will do what we do.

Our little lambs arrive in our arms pre-programmed to learn by imitation. When we teach them to speak, clap, or play peek-a-boo, we use their most natural and effective mechanism for learning.

When we exaggerate the syllables “ma-ma,” Baby eventually imitates “ma-ma.” Over and over the power of modeling and imitation plays out as a toddler “nurses” a teddy bear, as a preschooler babbles into a toy phone, or as a little girl slings a bulging purse over her shoulder and lugs it around the house.

And so it begins.

Moms quickly realize our example is powerful, effective, and precious.

It is also frightening, serious, and weighty. I remember the shock of hearing a soggy paintbrush hit the floor and my three-year-old exclaiming “Oh twap!” (Oh crap!)

It scared and sobered me. Shauna, you had better get it all right, because you are being watched and imitated at every turn.

And the burden of setting a good example weighed heavy.

I worried about everything. That I had not spent enough time with them, and that I was doting too much.

I fretted about not explained things well, and over-explaining to confuse.

I was so worried about doing things wrong, I began to depend on my hubby to make up the difference. I decided to distract myself from myself by evaluating someone else’s parenting (My poor, dear husband!).

It didn’t help. I became angry and even more worried.

As I had more babies and less time, the fear that I would not set a good example weighed heavier, because I had already gotten so much wrong.

It was as if I was skittering around a battle field, being taunted from every direction by the things I was not getting right. Some were legitimate. Some weren’t. At the time I couldn’t tell the difference, so I franticly scampered around my family panicked about my example.

See the irony?

Motherhood motivated by fear of setting a bad example is a bad example. It was an exhausting, joy-sucking approach.

Where can a mom get relief from that kind of downward spiral?

I’ll give you one guess.

Jesus had seen the deteriorating effects of frantic service in his friend Martha. As she scurried around her house, Jesus saw she was upset and worried about what she was doing and not doing. Besides that, she was distracted by what her sister was doing and not doing. Martha was simultaneously drawn in so many different directions, she didn’t know what to do first.

Sound familiar?

As Jesus promised to do, he lifted from Martha this exhausting burden.

But He didn’t do it by sending Mary to the kitchen, and He didn’t get up and help her Himself.

Instead, he said, “Only one thing is necessary.”

And that one thing? Relationship with Jesus, as modeled by her sister Mary. Sitting, not skittering, and listening rather than worrying.

Does that sound like an unhelpful oversimplification to apply to motherhood?

Maybe it does.

But it’s the change of mind that Christ has given to set us free when we are overwhelmed by the gravity of motherhood.

Jesus called people into relationship–the one necessary thing–with these words: “You, follow me.”

Settle down. Only one thing is necessary. You, follow me.                          

On the good days—when they nap simultaneously, potty in the toilet, and kiss you good night; when you have a personal prayer time, remain calm, and speak cheerfully—when you feel like you’ve set a good example… you follow Jesus.

Run to Him with thanksgiving and joy. He has given you rest and respite in your circumstances, not because you deserve it, not because you’ve earned it, but because He loves you, and you belong to Him.

On the bad days—when one after another starts puking, when windows are broken, and the car battery is dead, when you’re emotionally void of anything resembling affection; when you’ve snapped, and skipped prayer, when the best thing you can imagine is a silent, solitary nap in your van in a deserted field—when your example seems to have sealed your children’s unsavory destiny…you follow Jesus.

Run to Him with your sin, sadness, and anger. He offers rest and respite. Maybe not in the circumstances of today, but by the rest and peace that comes from knowing you’re loved. Not because you deserve it, not because you’ve earned it, but because you belong to Him.

There are not two different things to do on two different kinds of days. Only one thing is necessary. Jesus said, “You follow me.”

Relationship with Jesus is our most desperate need and our greatest privilege.

It is also the most powerful example we can set for our children to follow.

To rejoice and repent in the presence of Christ. To model a pattern of turning to Jesus, to thank him for the fun of a sandbox, or a championship win. To ask Him where to find the lost puppy, or where to go to college. To apologize to Him for hurting the ones He loves. To live in relationship with Him.

Dear Mama, here is the light and easy burden that will give you rest: relationship with Jesus is your target. He is your compass, your True North, your guiding Good Shepherd, and He will lead you to Himself.

As you follow Him, you may glance behind you someday to find your little lambs are following you. And you will discover that in His mercy, Jesus has led you to be the example He meant for you to be all along.

The post A Mother’s Heavy Burden of Being a Good Example appeared first on Shauna Letellier.