iParent

Hannah: Releasing the Child God Gives

by Wayne Stiles

The fifteen-mile journey from Ramah to Shiloh took merely a day to travel. But for Hannah, it must have felt like weeks.

Her husband’s other wife jabbered incessantly to her sons and daughters, always loud enough for Hannah to hear. The snobbery added weight to Hannah’s silent burden. Her empty arms ached for a son. And because the other wife had children, Hannah’s problem was obvious to all: God had closed her womb.

She looked at the road beneath her sandals. Centuries earlier, this well-worn path had known the likes of the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—all who had barren wives as well. The thought of their miraculous conceptions may have roused hope in Hannah’s heart. Shiloh was just ahead where she would worship. Hannah determined to ask God for a son.

She made her way to the tabernacle where behind several curtains glowed the holy presence of God. Approaching the doorway, she fashioned the words in her mind. As tears warmed her face, she made her request (1 Samuel 1:11).

After Hannah and her husband returned to Ramah, God gave her a son—Samuel. Once he was weaned at three years old, Hannah journeyed again to Shiloh . . . to give Samuel back to God. Placing her boy in the care of the priest Eli, Hannah returned home again with empty arms.

Even though Hannah would see Samuel each year at the feasts, it would have been heartrending to leave the son she had cared for every day for three years. And yet, she knew from the beginning the day would come. Samuel was not hers to keep. In reality, no child is.

Hannah’s release of Samuel reveals the attitude all godly parents should adopt. God gives us children so that we may give them back to Him. Sons and daughters are like arrows to be aimed . . . and then released (Psalm 127:3–5).

In surrendering a child to God’s purposes, the humble parent bows not in an admission of defeat but, like Hannah, in an act of worship.

Taken from Wayne Stiles, “Hannah: Releasing the Child God Gave,” The Wise and the Wild: 30 Devotions on Women of the Bible (IFL Publishing House: Plano, TX, 2010), 39-40.

Morality Is Still Not the Point

by David Carl

The best questions to ask often have surprising answers. This is especially true in the Christian life. Much of Christianity is counterintuitive, even upside down from “common sense.” For instance, God’s Word states that it is better for one “to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). This idea is not one that any of us would have come up with on our own. To be first in the kingdom of God, one must become last and a servant of all (Mark 9:35). Now that seems just . . . well . . . wrong. The truth is that it is deep truth from the source of truth: the Word of God. This is the kind of thing that will begin to transform us if we believe it, act on it, and hang on for the ride. So here comes another confusing truth.

In my previous post, I asked you to think of ways to love God better. I promised I’d give you what I came up with—here it is. The best way to learn to love God more is to not try to love God more. It’s one of those upside down things. If you just were to bear down and tell yourself to love God more, maybe read the Bible more and attend yet another small group, you would end up knowing more about the Bible and maybe gain ground on some other issues, but the “loving God more” thing would still feel elusive and frustrating. Why? Because you can’t transform your own heart. It’s like trying to lift yourself up by your own bootstraps. To compound the problem, when you try to change your own heart, any progress you think you’ve made will create a subtle pride, which will actually moves you away from loving God more. I know . . . it’ll make you nuts just thinking about it!

So how then do we come to love God more? I would propose that we do a few things, all at the same time. Let’s admit our inability to change our own hearts, and then let’s call out to God in weakness and pray that He will give us the love we need. The work of the Holy Spirit transforms us; therefore, we must surrender to God for transformation. It is His work not ours.

Next (but at the same time), I suggest you embark on a journey of exploration and discovery. You are not Magellan looking for new continents; you are an awe-struck lover seeking all the ways God loves you. As you move through your life, hunt for amazing sunsets and allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the extravagance of God’s artistry. A beautiful sunset is an unnecessary display. God could make the sun set without beauty—simply letting the sky go dark—but that’s not what He does. He makes sunsets breathtaking and short-lived. We should look at such a thing and recognize it as a gift from a loving Father to His children. Embrace it. Be humbled by the enormity of the gift.

The more we allow our hearts to be loved by God, the more our hearts will be transformed and our love for Him will surge. It’s the nature of a loving relationship. Love begets love, and love begins with God. Our love grows and becomes more Christlike only by our surrender to His love. The twilight sky is a great place to start observing His love, but don’t stop with sunsets. What about gazing at the wonder of a baby, the gift of good friends, or the beauty of good music? I believe that real beauty, untainted by the sin, comes directly from God. Beauty is given to draw us to Him, to remind us of Him, and to lead us into amazement of Him. Recognizing natural beauty is a natural way to love God more.

The answer to the second question—“How do we get our kids to love God more?”—is the same as the answer as above. We as parents need to be on this journey of discovering God’s love through the beauty of His creation, and we need to take our kids by the hands as we go. Point out the sunsets, the snowcapped mountains, the sound of the waves, and the nests full of sparrow chicks. Don’t allow these things to just be interesting; make them reasons to worship God. Be certain that your kids think about them as gifts from an extravagant, loving Father.

The natural but miraculous result will be hearts that love God more.

(See also Morality is Not the Point, Part 1 and Part 2.)

Morality is Not the Point, Part 2

By David Carl

Morality is not the point. (I told you this in Part 1.)

When it becomes the point you will become corrupt. You will have lost sight of the main goal—loving God. This concept is very important when you are guiding a child or young believer in Christ. The Pharisees were moral, the most moral people around, and Jesus reserved His most scathing and condemning words for them (Matthew 23:27). Morality will not save you from hell; it will not even make you a better person. However, it will make life miserable for those around you. And eventually you will run aground. You won’t be able to keep it up; you won’t be able to keep mustering your will to step up and rescue you. Morality is not the point; it is merely a means to a much greater end.

When I was a kid I was taught by my Sunday school teachers and youth leaders that if I behaved well, if I was a moral person, good things would come my way. This is a bad bit of theology for a number of reasons. To tell this to kids may help the leaders to control them, but it is selfish of the leaders and harmful to the kids. It sets the stage for a theological crisis. One day this well-behaving kid will have the world crash around his ankles, and he’ll try to make sense of it. His thoughts will grope around for conclusions and probably come up with something like this: “I believed that if I was good, good things would happen to me. But because bad things are happening to me, I must conclude that I’m bad and that I deserve what is happening.” Or he might think, “I have been a pretty good kid, and this is not fair. I’ve held up my part of the bargain and God hasn’t. God is neither good nor loving after all.” I often worry about these silent, internal conversations because kids are using bad or incomplete information that leads to conclusions that will send them way off-course, far more than just three degrees.

I want my kids to behave well, and I want your kids to behave well. But I don’t want to create a theological crisis for them in the process. Luke 10:27 says “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” There is the polar north of every disciple of Christ. Not self-sacrifice, not giving, not biblical knowledge, and not good behavior. Though these things are necessary, even indispensable tools on your journey toward becoming Christlike, they must not be allowed to become the goal.

For years I’ve thought about the legalist as being on one end of the spectrum and the grace-filled person being on the opposite end. These days I think they are only three degrees apart. Many of the behaviors of these two people are the same. They both spend time reading the Bible, they both speak to God, and they both try to do the right things. The legalist does much of this out of guilt or in an effort to earn God’s approval. The legalist is driven by the strength of his own will. And though he fails routinely, he hopes that he will be able to muster up the discipline to do better. He also holds an ever-increasing disdain for those who do not work as hard as he does. Can you see the pattern? It is all about him! His thoughts are on himself; he is consumed by how he is doing. This is precisely the kind of self-absorption Christ came to save us from. The grace-filled person on the other hand is striving to not be self-absorbed; he wants to be lost in love for Jesus. He is doing many of the same things as the legalist, but his focus is on Jesus. With only three degrees of difference at the beginning, these two people will end up in different hemispheres.

If we teach our kids only morality, the undertow of legalism will be almost irresistible. I propose that we as parents, teachers, and children’s workers check our bearings and work to lead our kids to love God first. Not an icky, silly love, but an informed, well-thought-out, and defensible love for God. Considering the character of God, a response of love is the only reasonable one. This is a difficult course to maintain. Along the way you will be a legalist sometimes, but just check your bearings and correct your course. I was probably a legalist twice last week, and I bet I will be again next week, so I need to check my bearings regularly.

So how do I do this? How can I be sure that Jesus is my polar north? Introspection is a helpful but underused tool. Ask yourself some tough questions like, “Am I really seeking to know and love God, or am I just reading my Bible so that God will bless me?” Try this one: “Do I treat the lost sinner badly because he offends my morality, or am I filled with compassion for him like Jesus was?” Or “If I hate things that Jesus did not hate, am I willing to change?”

I hope that you agree that loving God is the point—the only course worth following. If you do, you should then be asking something along the lines of, “Okay, so how do I do this? How do I love God more?” Even harder than that, “How do I help my kids to love God more?” These are exactly the questions to ask. Work on some answers yourself. Ask wise people around you. Be stubborn and intractable until you have a biblical plan that will lead you toward loving God more and guiding others to do the same.

Next time I’ll tell you what I’ve come up with.

Morality is Not the Point, Part 1

By David Carl

Morality is not the point.

Now stay with me. I bet you’ll agree when I’m finished. For a while now I’ve been asking the elementary-age kids I know, “What do you think God wants most from us?” Most of the time the answers are something like, “God wants us to be good” or “God wants us to pray a lot.” I was even pleased to get a “God wants us to help people.” These were the kind of answers I expected—but they are wrong. They are off by perhaps three degrees.  If you start on a journey and you are three degrees off of your bearing, you will in a short time be half a mile off-course. In a few days you will be hundreds of miles off-course, and soon you’ll be in the wrong hemisphere. You will have completely missed your destination. That is why sailors have checked their compasses obsessively for thousands of years.

When I ask “What does God want most from us?” the words I hope to hear are “He wants us to love Him.” That’s the point. That’s what matters most. And in the pursuit of loving God we need to toss overboard whatever may distract us or cause us to drift off-course. The distractions are legion.

Christianity is complex; sin is easy. Those of us who have lived some years as followers of Christ are probably not going to stumble into a life of violent crime. We are probably not going to wake up one day and choose to wholly reject God and become angry atheists. However, we do need to be afraid of drift and distraction. As sinful humans, we will drift away from God, and we will be distracted—it’s unavoidable. Consequently, we need to discover these distractions early and get them corrected quickly. It's also important to note that these distractions come not only in the form of sinful temptations—they can come in any form. They can even look like good things. King Saul was distracted by his desire to be a good king, and the Pharisees were distracted by their devotion to Scripture, of all things. Abraham was distracted by his love for his son Isaac; it caused him to drift away from God. For those of us working to serve and teach kids through ministry, we need to be especially vigilant and stay on our course.

A wise man once observed that for ministers the one thing that hinders spiritual growth most is ministry. The very act of ministry can be a distraction from our relationship with God. Many enter into ministry with visions of making a difference in lives, of leading people toward growth and maturity. That’s the wrong motive. You’ve begun to drift by perhaps three degrees.

The right motive for ministry comes from loving God so much that you want to spill it over on others. If you go into ministry solely to serve either kids or adults, you are already distracted and drifting off-course. You will run aground. How? Kids certainly won’t appreciate your sacrifices; and adults won’t understand what you’re trying to do. They will even fight you and impede the very thing they hired you to come and accomplish! This scenario happens so often it has a name—burnout.

To avoid this kind of disaster in ministry, in work, or in parenting, we need to honestly and humbly check our bearings and adjust our course constantly toward loving God.

(More to come in Part 2)

Apart from Jesus . . . Nothing

by Wayne Stiles

On one trip to Israel, I went without my family for over three weeks—the longest time I’ve ever spent away from them. And while I spoke with them regularly the whole time I traveled, the last conversation is the one I’ll never forget.

After weeks of separation, we all felt eager to see one another again. I can still hear my younger daughter’s words from the other side of the world: “It’s like I don’t even know you, Daddy.”

Open heart, insert battle-axe.

A mere three weeks apart made our relationship seem surreal. I’ve thought about her comment often as I considered Christ’s words to His headstrong disciples that night.

“Apart from Me you can do nothing,” said the Savior in the Upper Room (John 15:5). Nothing. That word seems so conclusive, so dreadfully final. Our success hinges on our remaining in fellowship with Jesus. And our fellowship with Jesus pivots on honest confession (1 John 1:9).

Most of us Christians have experienced those incredible moments of intimacy with God when we have no yearning for any earthly joy, much less for sin. Christ becomes our entire desire. In those moments, we make impassioned commitments of absolute dedication. We really believe we have turned a corner in our spiritual lives.

But then, driving away from church, our family disagrees over where to eat. Or after our quiet time, our bickering children rapidly rob us of joy. Or on the way to work, a hurried driver cuts us off and waves with only a fraction of his hand. All of a sudden, commitment wanes. And these are the little things. What about real life crises?

Nothing. That word has such a haunting finality, doesn’t it? If we fail to remain in fellowship with Jesus, we can do nothing—not “some things,” not “a few things”—but no thing. Nothing of any lasting spiritual value whatsoever.

But with Jesus, on the other hand, nothing is impossible that is His will (see Matt. 19:26).

Post adapted from www.waynestiles.com and from Wayne Stiles, Walking in the Footsteps of Jesus: A Devotional Journey Through the Lands and Lessons of Christ (Ventura, CA: Regal, 2008), p. 141-142. Used by permission. Upper Room photo courtesy of BiblePlaces.com.

A Dogged Devotion

By Wayne Stiles

Our home has a daily ritual as humorous as it is predictable. Our two Labradors receive breakfast from one of our daughters, and in the evening they get supper from the other daughter.

I took this picture one morning. You can tell it’s morning because the dogs know which daughter feeds them at which time of day. They wait for the “morning feeder” to emerge from her door. And wait . . . and wait.

The dogs’ devotion to food reminds me of a proverb where wisdom offers a simple invitation:

Blessed is the man who listens to me,
watching daily at my doors,
waiting at my doorway
For whoever finds me finds life
and receives favor from the LORD. (Proverbs 8:34–35)

After reading these verses, the picture of my dogs changes from comical to convicting. How do we find wisdom? By “watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.” Literally, the Hebrew reads, “yom, yom”—or “day by day.” It takes a daily commitment to listen, to watch, and to wait in the Word of God in order to gain wisdom.

Don’t misunderstand. By “daily” I don’t mean a legalistic box to check. No, I mean a dogged devotion to listening to, watching for, and regularly waiting on God’s wisdom as found in the Bible.

The secret of counteracting our bent toward waywardness rests with wisdom. . . . She is calling for our attention. She doesn’t want us to drift throughout the day without taking her along as our companion. —Charles R. Swindoll

You and I both crave a good life—“good” in the best sense of the word. These verses tell us where to find that kind of life—in the daily intake and application of wisdom. Finding wisdom amounts to finding life—and God’s favor.

Need a great place to begin your meal? Sink your teeth into Proverbs 8—which ends with the verses we just read.

Post courtesy of www.waynestiles.com.Used by permission.

Losing Our Training Wheels

By Wayne Stiles 

The fall season often reminds me of the day when one of my daughters learned to ride her bike without training wheels. (The “fall” was an appropriate time for this event.)

As she sped down a hill toward a huge ravine, I saw written all over her face the message: “I’m not in control!” So as she flew by me, I reached out and lifted her off the bike—saving her from the ravine but causing her to fall. As the bike launched into the abyss, my rescued daughter hopped up hotter than a hornet!

“Why did you do that, Daddy?!” To answer, I pointed to the bottomless gorge I saved her from . . . but she still couldn’t believe that I would cause her to fall.

Years later, I pondered how we can carry this attitude into our relationship with God. The words of one woman make this clear:

"I was raised in a conservative church where we were taught to seek God’s guidance. But I’ve concluded that all that teaching was a crock! Where was God when I needed Him? Why didn’t He give me a better family? Why didn’t He let me marry better men? God knew what was going to happen to me. He could have stopped it. But instead He’s letting me wallow in misery. It’s not fair."

The Christian life should bring the good things in life, right? God’s powerful love should protect us from having awful families, from miserable marriages, from losing our jobs, from losing a child, or from having accidents only “other people” have. So when reality hits, God becomes the scapegoat—because He could have stopped it all.

“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1). King David’s honest prayer reflects our own cries, doesn’t it? Nothing aches so badly as God’s apparent apathy.

Our culture points to our pain as proof that God doesn’t exist; but the devil uses our pain to convince us that God doesn’t care. (Take a moment and read that again.) And if Satan can get us to doubt God’s goodness, we stand on the edge of a life that uses our anger to justify sin.

But notice, David not only expressed his feelings of abandonment, but he affirmed his faith in God’s goodness—even though he could not see it: “But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness; my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation” (v. 5). Even within the blur of seeming betrayal, David clung to God’s good character.

As parents, we can all understand why I jerked my daughter off her bike. But as a child, she lacked the capacity to understand my actions as coming from a heart of love. She couldn’t see past her pain toward the reason I allowed it—and even caused it. As God’s children, we often lack this same insight.

If we acknowledge our Father’s goodness only in the pleasant things He allows, we yield to a childish nature that misses an astounding part of God’s love. We miss the wonderful growth we can experience from praising a good God who uses even our pain for our advantage.

Used by permission of www.waynestiles.com

____________

“Fixing Foundation Problems” by Wayne Stiles

My grandmother’s old house came the closest to a home away from home for me. Built in 1909, it endured countless repairs, two roofs, and around twenty-seven sets of wallpaper.

One winter I noticed in a high corner the wallpaper had buckled and split. When I questioned my grandmother she commented: “The house needs foundation work. Every time the seasons change or the wind blows a different direction, the whole house shifts.” That made sense. In the past twenty years I bet I’ve shaved an inch off all doors trying to get them to close. But the repair lasted only until the wind shifted again.

Now look closely at the lives of many people you know, and you’ll see this old house’s problem played out in vivid display. When one marriage hits the rocks, another one follows with barely equal success. When some addiction seems conquered, you see in its place one more of equal devastation. Job after job, church after church, relationship after relationship, when the walls of their lives get wrinkled or ripped, their solution is often to paper over the tear with a fresh print . . . and just start over. Maybe you’ve even had a few sets of wallpaper yourself.

The problem, of course, lies not with the wallpaper, the walls, or even the wind (returning to the old house’s metaphor). These remain but symptoms of the real problem: a poor foundation.

When the devil tempted the first humans to disobey, their cunning enemy appealed to emotions by discrediting God’s Word (Genesis 3:4–6). Satan’s tactics haven’t changed. If he can get us to doubt God’s truth—or simply to stay unaware of it—we have nothing left to base our decisions on except emotion and common sense. Both inadequate foundations.

I wish I could count how many couples sat in my pastoral office and confessed they just “don’t love each other anymore.” Because their feelings had changed, they assumed they had missed true love. But God never intended feelings to guide us.

What circumstance do you find yourself in today where emotion has demanded its way? Your marriage? Your kids’ schooling? Your integrity on the job?

Watch out.

When we make decisions based on any other foundation but God’s Word, we sit at the mercy of any wind’s whim. No marriage will endure. No salary will satisfy. No job, church, or relationship will last. How can they when we base them on feelings that constantly shift?

God’s Word remains a sure foundation for our lives, true. But we only enjoy its benefits when we obey it.

A Peculiarity of God’s Love—by Wayne Stiles

I remember when my daughter learned to ride her bike without training wheels. (This occurred appropriately in the season called “fall.”) As she sped down a hill toward a huge ravine, I saw written all over her face the message: “I’m not in control!” So as she flew by me, I reached out and lifted her off the bike. The bike went sailing on into the abyss, and in the process, my daughter fell down. She hopped up hotter than a hornet!  

 “Daddy, why did you do that?!” Even after I pointed at the oncoming ravine, she still stood enraged that I would do such a thing.

This incredulous attitude doesn’t change much as we grow. One woman admitted: “I was raised in a conservative church where we were taught to seek God’s guidance. But I’ve con­cluded that all that teaching was a crock! Where was God when I needed Him? Why didn’t He give me a better family? Why didn’t He let me marry better men? God knew what was going to happen to me. He could have stopped it. But instead He’s letting me wallow in misery. It’s not fair.”

We struggle with the pain in our lives because we assume the Christian life should bring all the good things we want. We feel that God’s unconditional love for us includes protection from losing our jobs, losing a child, or having accidents only “other” people have. So when reality hits, God becomes the scapegoat—because He could have stopped it all.

 “How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1). Ever prayed that? King David did. Nothing aches so badly as God’s apparent apathy.

While the world points to pain as proof God doesn’t exist, the devil points to pain as proof God doesn’t care. And if the devil can get us to doubt God’s goodness, we stand on the precipice of using our anger with God to justify sin.

David not only expressed honest feelings of abandonment, but he affirmed his faith in God’s goodness—even though he could not understand it: “But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness; my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation” (v. 5).

Even within the blur of seeming betrayal, David clings to God’s character as good.

As parents we can all understand why I grabbed my daughter off her bike. But as a child, she lacked the capacity to appreciate what I did as an act of love. She couldn’t see past her pain toward the reason I allowed—and even caused—her pain.

If we acknowledge our Father’s goodness only in the pleasant things He allows, we yield to the childish nature which misses an astounding peculiarity of God’s love. We miss the wonderful maturation gained from praising a good God who uses even our pain for our advantage.