STEP INTO A STRANGER'S SANDALS

The other day, Faith asked if I might do a quick proof read on something she had written.  It was unlike her other papers which are usually in MLA or APA format, so tidy and professional.  I read it through more than once and my response was, "I have no corrections, Faithie.  Only tears."  

I had to share it with you. 

Love, 

 







By FAITH JONES

 

 

 

 

I see only horror.  The feeling of black night envelops me.  Every image I see and voice I hear all carries a threat.  I cannot control myself.  I cannot do anything to stop the destruction that follows in my wake.  All day and night without rest I shout hoarsely, staggering blindly through the slums of Jerusalem.  I’m not from here; I’m from Magdala.  I wish I was back there now.  Here everyone stares at me distastefully, as if I am the devil himself.  I feel as though I will be ripped apart from the inside.  The writhing in my soul is too great for me to bear.  I scream loudly and shrilly, hoping to ease the agonizing reality I find myself in, but nothing changes.  I cannot remember anything different.  Has it always been this way?  Will it always be this way?  Hope is a foreign concept; I know nothing of it.  I collapse to the ground, head reeling and body shaking.  Through the fog in my mind, I see Him.  He is looking at me.  My face must have contorted into something horrific as I cursed, spitting in His direction.  He does not scurry away, as many do.  He does not curse back, like some do.  He does not even frown at me, making me feel like the scum I am.  He smiles.  A smile?  I had almost forgotten what that was.  I begin to tremble and sweat streams down my face.  My breathing becomes hard and I try to stand up, but to no avail.  Instead, the demons throw me down into the mud on the street.  I convulse wildly, crying out with voices that are not my own.  The Man rushes over to me.  His shadow falls across me in the fading light, and sitting up, I strike out at His feet.  He is not intimidated, nor is He disgusted.  His presence overwhelms me, and I suddenly feel calm.  It is an unfamiliar emotion.  Peace.  What is it?  Fear of this Stranger and His power over my demons begins to grip me.  Who is He, that He can still them?  No witch nor authority has ever been able to do that.  I whimper, covering my face in my hands.  Dirty hands.  Hands broken and bleeding from the years of hardship.  Years of pain.  Years of hopelessness.  I feel His warm hands envelop mine, and His kind voice reaches into my darkness.  He says a command, but it’s not directed at me.  Suddenly, with a loud cry and one last convulsion, I collapse in utter exhaustion.  His strong arm catches me before I hit the ground, and I gaze into His loving eyes in wonder.  My demons are gone!  I feel almost human again.  I inhale shakingly, then melt into tears while He hugs me close.  The struggle, the pain, the alienation from my fellow man: gone.  My muddled thoughts clear, and my everlasting headache recedes.  I look up at Him again, amazed at the kind of love that it took to reach out to such a repulsive person as I am.  Why did He even bother?  Who am I that He cares?  Who is He, that He would be willing to reach down into the sin and grime of my life to rescue me?  Whoever He is, I don’t think He’s human.  No human has that kind of amazing love.  No one can love me.  Except Him.

I am not the same woman as I used to be.  My demons have been cast out.  I am clothed.  I am loved.  I am a follower of Jesus.  He was the One that healed me that day, and I have been His disciple ever since.  I can’t help it; I am possessed by a different Spirit now.  I hope Jesus knew what He was getting into that day, because I’m never letting Him go.  I have tried to express my gratitude many times, but all my feeble efforts fall tremendously short.  I simply cannot repay Him.  He rescued me from a life that was hell on earth, and I will live with Him in His kingdom for all eternity.  He will never let me go.  Salvation is truly an amazing thing.  God doesn’t care for riches, or comfort, or popularity.  He cares for me, and others like me.  Sinners in pain.  I have seen Him heal many other demon possessed people.  I don’t think most of them had as many as I did, but when I looked at them, I felt their despair; despair that I remember quite vividly.  Then, as He healed them, I see the same inexpressibly joy that overwhelmed me.  His compassion is unsurpassed.  I can only thank Him, and all I have to give Him is my meager life.  He has it.  I am His forever.

Tonight is very cold.  I am fighting hopelessness once again.  This time, though, it’s not demons.  It’s the religious leaders.  I thought they were supposed to be the righteous ones; the teachers, people who are our example.  Now they have arrested the Son of God, and are illegally trying Him for blasphemy.  I think it’s blasphemy to drag God down to their petty level, to bind Him and make Him play their stupid game.  I wish I could do something, but I have absolutely no influence with the Pharisees.  They still look down their lofty noses when I pass them in the street.  They think they are so holy, but in reality, they are prideful and graceless.  They make up impossible rules and judge us all for breaking them.  They call Jesus a criminal.  Jesus!  He was incredible enough to put aside His heavenly throne to come and save us from the consequences of our sin.  Yet they tied Him up, hauled Him to a courtroom, and delight in scorning Him.  He is patient.  All night long He is taken from one courtroom to another.  They are trying to find some fault in God.  Good luck, Pharisees!  God doesn’t make mistakes.  The sun is finally rising, but the chill hasn’t left my heart.  I pray desperately, hoping that God the Father will think of the best course of action.  There’s a crowd now, running and yelling down the street.  I join them, trying to find out what is happening.  Then I see Him.  He is beaten to a pulp, a twisted crown of thorns pressed into His scalp, and He is carrying a monstrous wooden cross.  A cry of anguish leaves my lips as I fall to my knees.  I call His name, tears streaming down my face.  I don’t know how He possibly could have heard me, but somehow He did.  His bloody face turns in my direction, and He smiles at me.  How can He smile?  I watch helplessly as He is forced up the street towards the hill.  Golgotha, the place where the condemned are crucified and left to die.  The horror of the moment fills my soul.  I can do nothing.  Nothing but follow.  I have followed Him ever since that day He healed me.  I will follow Him now.  My body shakes as I try to suppress my grief.  At the top of the hill, nails are driven into His hands and feet.  Every cry of pain that leaves His lips becomes my own.  I turn away as the cross is hoisted high, displaying the King of the universe stripped and dying.  I lose all track of time as I stare numbly at the scene before me.  His breathing is becoming shallow now.  I inhale painfully, wishing I could take His place.  I wish I could heal Him the way He healed me so long ago.  I wish He wasn’t on that cross.  I jerk in surprise when He cries out.  Then His head drops and I know He is dead.  I bite my lip as a soldier pierces His side with a spear.  The mixture of blood and water that pours from His lung is proof of my suspicion.  The sky is suddenly black, and lightening flashes.  I turn and run, not knowing where I am going.  I don’t care.  My Savior is gone.

 

The spices sting my swollen nostrils as I mix them together.  I have no more tears, only a dry grief that eats up my soul with each passing moment.  I am going to anoint Him.  It’s the least I can do for the One who rescued me.  I pick up the box of ointment and walk out of the house.  The early sun hurts my red, puffy eyes.  I forgot my cloak, but I don’t even think about the chilly morning.  I haven’t considered how I will roll the stone from the tomb when I get there.  My feet trudge slowly towards the tomb, mindlessly stepping over the guards’ bodies.  I suddenly look up in surprise; the stone is moved away!  I turn and stare at the guards, passed out before the open grave.  I peek into the dark cave, then drop my spices in amazement.  Turning, I flee down the hill, not stopping until I reach Jesus’ disciples.  I gasp out that He is gone; the grave is empty!  John and Peter immediately begin running back towards the tomb, and I pursue them.  I finally reach them when they are emerging from the tomb, eyes sad.  Peter is shaking his head in despair, but John looks ecstatic.  John keeps going on and on to Peter about how Jesus promised He would raise from the dead, but Peter wordlessly shuffles down the hill.  I watch them go, and grief overcomes me.  Someone must have stolen His body!  But who?  And where would they have taken it?  The grief in my heart flows down my cheeks.  I look into the grave again, but this time it’s not dark.  I gasp as two angels, clothed in white, ask me why I am weeping.  I turn around and see a Man standing behind me.  He also asks me why I am crying.  I figure He was the gardener, so I ask Him where He took Jesus’ body.  The Man says my name, and the life leaves my legs.  I cry out as I recognize my Savior.  He is alive!

  

 

 
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ALLOWING OUR KITES TO FLY {teens and releasing the string}

 

 

 

 

 

 

Older sisters taking Sarah out for her first 14 year old fancy coffee and a play performance on her birthday!

 

 

“Kids are much like kites- struggling to become airborne, yet needing the stability of the string...

God designed your role as a parent to prepare 'your kite' for flight...

Keep running with your child, releasing more and more string into the Lord's sovereign hands."

-June Hunt, speaking about teens at Hope for the Heart Ministries  

 

  

That running with and releasing the string can be easier said than done.  Just ask any parent with teenagers! 

After becoming used to guarding and protecting our kites and working so hard to tie on that tail that will balance them later (the Word), it can be tough to even consider bringing these kites outside.  This may be especially true with girls.   

They have become beautiful under our care.  Wouldn't it be better to hang them our wall to admire or tuck them away in a drawer for safe keeping rather than risk the diving and dipping that is sure to come as they begin to catch flight?   

But kites were made to fly. 
 

 

We gave this book to Faith when she was little, but the Ps. 139 message is still true.  We will not always be with her, but God will.

THE HURDLES AND HELPS


When I posted recently about parenting teens, I said that I would share a little about our thought process in sending Faith to college.  Honestly, it was not an easy decision for our family.  Really.     

Because Faith was always academic, we decided long ago that we would simply do our best not to close any doors along the way, in case the Lord might have plans we did not know about yet.  We always figured that God can steer a moving ship, so we went ahead and had her take the PSAT and later the SAT, but all the while we were still not convinced that the Lord wanted her to go to college.   

While in secular circles a girl going to college raises no eyebrows, we have been exposed to a different way of thinking. 

First of all, as homeschoolers we are the types to usually buck the system.  Pretty much any system.  If the world approves it, it must be evil- or at least unhealthy.  We're pretty leery about whatever is being peddled our way and we are willing to do our research.  But in doing our research in this area, we had to admit that some institutions for higher education not only made sense, they were being redeemed for God's glory. 

Secondly, over the last few years every bit of information related to college we had heard was fear based.  Kids who go to college- even Christian college- will fall away from the faith.  Or get raped.  Or both.  There were statistics and examples shared with us at every turn, so why in the world would we even consider it?  But we remembered that God has not given us a spirit of fear.  He knows our days before there is even one of them.  Yes, we must navigate wisely, but not based on fear of man. 

As we prayed, God led us to reexamine the history of Daniel.  We were reminded that all the best kids, from good Israelite families, were taken into captivity with Daniel.  So why was it that only Daniel and his friends were committed to following what they knew pleased the Lord during this period of training (which was roughly around the same length of time as the college experience)? 

There were only four out of all the best of captured from all of the tribes of Israel who resolved to obey God.  They refrained from eating what was unlawful for them.  Later it was Daniel who was unwilling to stop his prayers to the Lord and his friends who would not bow down to an idol.  

Only four. 

We had to admit that sounded worse than today's statistics.  Maybe this was really a heart issue and not a college issue.

Thirdly, we knew our goal for Faith would be to prepare her to be a godly helpmeet someday.  We had to consider, would a higher education improve her abilities to be a helpmeet or prohibit them?  Personally, every skill I learned in college (except Trigonometry- yuck!) has been a service to me and to our household.  It has never deterred me from my Titus 2 objectives, but it has helped me in numerous ways.  

Once we tackled those hurdles in our thinking, it was time to identify our actual goals for our daughter over the next few years.  They included:

 

• That she would continue to grow socially, intellectually and spiritually
• That she would be fashioned into a woman who would be an excellent helpmeet if and when God blessed that opportunity
• That she would be equipped as best as we were able to equip her for an unknown future 
• That she would continue to contribute in a meaningful way in her sister's lives and in our home 

The entire time we processed these thoughts, we never believed that Christian college would be the only avenue to achieve these goals for our daughter or that college was the right choice for every child.  But we acknowledged that if God is creative enough to make each snowflake and fingerprint uniquely, He is able to have a different plan for different families and different children.  We were convinced that we must seek Him and not parent based on peer pressure.    

This was our thought process.  It is NOT a model to follow, but a peek into our hearts and minds on this issue.  We had to lay it all before the Lord and process through point by point, always trusting the Lord to bring a Scripture to our minds at the appropriate time.  Which He did.

Whatever is ahead for you in the teen years, He will lead you if you ask Him.  You do not need to fear.  He will direct you to a safe place in which you can release some string.  Not every place will be safe.  Not every season in your child's life will be a safe time.  It may take adjustments. 

For us, the Christian college (while Faith remains living at home) has been a safe place to release some string. 

And she is soaring. 

Homemade banner by the talented Michaela.

 



CUT 'EM A BREAK


Parenting teens is amazing, but navigating and learning when and how much string to release is not without some challenge.  This is a time when parents and teens need your extra encouragement and support. 

The problem is, that over the years many well meaning Christian families have created models to help others "do better" with the teen to twenty year old years than the secular culture is doing (think:  courtship, being fruitful and multiplying, specific modesty requirements, the trend of discounting higher learning etc.).*

But the doctrines of men tend to do something that is very dangerous for us.  They tend to remove our need to seek the Lord in these matters.  And they tend to make us judgmental if others don't follow along. 

Don't be like that.  Cut the parents of teens (and the teens themselves) a break.

Don't encourage the following of models.  Encourage the following of Christ. 

Cheer on those who are walking the teen years and trust God.  These families may make decisions you don't think that you would.  That's ok.  God may be displaying His creativity, His grace and His ability to work all things together for good for those who love Him.

Above all, love.  God has a plan for these kites.  Let them fly. 

In His grace,

 

 

 

________________

 

 

 

Do you remember the modesty survey by Alex and Brett Harris that everyone was a buzz about years ago?  Faith and I were looking for it the other day as a topic of conversation and found that it is no longer online.  It took very little digging to find people involved with the original project who say that there were so many problems with it, that they now apologize.  Over time, people began to treat it as "the Word" on modesty, or use it to enforce legalism.  Why do we do that?

 

Apparently as soon as we find out about a man made standard has made it immodest to wear a thong style sandal, we will look down on and treat unkindly anyone who does.  Oh, sisters.  The Word is the standard.  Man's word is not.  Let's not be on a high horse with other believers.  This battle is tough enough without friendly fire.  :)