Leaving the Gifts to Focus on the Relationships

This morning my oldest (6) wanted to surprise us with breakfast. Our youngest (2) always wants to be involved with anything she does, usually making life more frustrating for her in the process. This morning was no different and her strong ambition had her straining toward her goal with no patience for his interruptions, inducing screams and discord. When finished, she proudly presented her offering on the table. I was convicted as I asked her "What do you think your Mommy and Papi would like better: for you to make them breakfast or to get along with your brother?" She knew the answer was to get along with her brother, and I had a lot to think about myself.

God puts relationships before products of effort. If we arrive at a seemingly righteous destination with a wrong heart, He isn't pleased with our efforts. What we produce tangibly is always second or third or fourth in the comparison to how we use what we do to impact our "brother." How we use what we DO to build RELATIONSHIPS, not products, is what He looks at.

^{Matthew 5:23 "}Therefore if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; ²⁴ Leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift."

 My "gifts" are often a clean house, prepared meal, academically educated children, acts of service. Things. And too often, these are things that come at the price of relationships. It's backwards, I'm learning. God wants me to use these things to create relationship, if I'm to use them at all, not to let the stress of the doing break the bond of loving the ones I am doing it with.

So, excuse me, I have to leave my gifts at this altar and go talk to some people.

It is becoming clearer to me every day why the bible advocates constant godly dialog between kids and parents. There are so many teaching moments, for me AND them, that need to be shared. I do not easily do dialog, so this is something I am trying to improve. It's hard to not view talking as a chore, but as a necessary form of teaching for life. As a teacher I could separate my life into "teaching" and "home stuff," but with children it is ALL teaching. I get overwhelmed so easily, especially when I feel like I have to multitask. For me, it comes down to this: Mothering is all about pacing yourself and doing one thing well at a time- not getting wrapped up in things more than the family and God you serve.

I continue learning about fear. I feel this is the lesson I have been learning the longest, but which I've only recently been able to apply to life. Leaving the middle east for vacation I realized some things that should be very simple, but that I wasn't realizing:
-You can not run from fear because you carry it inside of you. It isn't dependent upon external factors, but internal ones.
-This makes it simple: Fear doesn't come from God, and if I have it as His child, it is a choice I am making.
-If it is a choice, the fear of the future is inhibiting the enjoyment of the present because I am letting it.
Which made it much clearer to make a different choice. Clearer, but not always easier. Worrying about something isn't going to do anything but make life miserable and inhibit clear thought if something bad does happen. Instead, I could acknowledge that God has a reason for everything, even bad things, and not worry about it but accept that He will help if something does happen.

But the last two points are then tied together in this question I have been trying to figure out: How do you raise children to be motivated by love instead of fear? I know there is healthy fear in order to survive and the "fear of God" but those are not what I'm talking about. One can choose to be motivated by love instead of fear, but that doesn't change reflexes. If a child is trained up in fear, how does he depart from that? If fear is the result of not being made perfect in love, how is that process begun, and more importantly, passed on?

My children are not my ultimate treasure.

Let me explain why, though this sounds unfeeling, this is such a freeing statement.

This post is what I wrote a few days ago that has been weighing heavily on my heart and mind since then.

While I realized in my head that my children were really God's and that He would complete what He started... I hadn't really let them go. Their successful spiritual conclusion, though I didn't realize it, was still my goal.

That is something I can't control.

Matthew 6:21 says "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.." The Bible says that children are a heritage, a blessing, a responsibility and a reward- but they're not our ultimate goal. My children are on earth and unless they find God's transforming power, they will not be a part of heaven. This is weighty. While I realize I have a huge responsibility to lead them to God and do everything I can to encourage that transformation, how often have I put the well-being (even their spiritual well-being- controlled by my fear) of my children before my love for God- turning them inadvertently into idols? My main goal, my main desire, has to be first the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 6:31-34 addresses this:

31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? 32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. 33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. 34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Greg Boyd does a good summary of my thoughts on this passage, and on bringing out some very good points I have a bad habit of forgetting:



My treasure is first: God and His will for me. Everything else falls in line behind that.

God first takes the pressure off of me. He loves my children more than I ever could and if He's first in my life, He'll lead me in the way that's best for my children also. I'm a better mother when I put God before my children.

How freeing.

While still in the States, I began feeling a very heavy sense that our coming to the Middle East was going to be for a reason, and not an easy one. The night before our flight here I couldn't sleep and the only thing I could think that would bring peace was "to live is Christ, to die is gain." I felt that I must be prepared to literally die, and not only to the flesh. That feeling has only increased since being here. If nothing else, it has honed my spiritual senses to how important it is to be crucified with Christ.

There have been several prophesies throughout churches (of differing denominations) in the Middle East that agree that the Middle East is on the verge of massive war like it has never seen and church persecution, but that God and His church are going to persevere. I realize that this is not surprising news.

While I have read Revelation, it has always been confusing and way over my head and I've never chosen to read it. However, lately it seems like God has been drawing me to read it and particularly drawing my attention to these verses: "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death" Rev 12:11

Revelations: 13:10 "He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints."


My particular challenge is not to reconcile myself with the thought of death, but rather to release my fear for my children.

I realize that they belong to God first. The story of Moses is much harder to read now that I have children of my own. Like I've said, I can see how his mother probably had doubts. Wouldn't a dead innocent child be better than one who grew up to defy the Holy One of Israel? And in the surroundings Moses was to grow up in, she had no way of knowing how he would choose. (Not that we ever do.)I feel like my children are in a similar environment but there's still only so much they are able to grasp right now.


My prayer right now is that God will/has started a work in their little hearts and that this will continue: "...Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." Phil 1:5-6

Exodus 2:9 And Pharaoh's daughter said unto her, Take this child away, and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy wages. And the women took the child, and nursed it. (10) And the child grew, and she brought him unto Pharaoh's daughter, and he became her son. And she called his name Moses: and she said, Because I drew him out of the water.

This story is much harder to read now that I have children of my own. Now I can feel the mother's anguish and desperation as she searched for any solution for the survival of her child. I can feel her joy as God miraculously made a way. Then I can see how she probably had doubts. Wouldn't a dead innocent child be better than one who grew up to defy the Holy One of Israel? And in the surroundings Moses was to grow up in, she had no way of knowing how he would choose. (Not that we ever do.) I can see how each moment of physical nurture, also became one of spiritual nurture. I can see her trying to ingrain the Torah into her child and whispering "Hear, Oh Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord" to him while he slept.

Since it was common to nurse children into the 4th year and sometimes up to the 6th, this makes this story come to life even more for me as I watch my own 4 year old. I see, now, how critical those years are for spiritual development. I see her sincere hunger for God and immeasurable faith. She teaches me about God every day. I pray that I am also teaching her the right things about Him.

Birth can be healing. I've read that at birth, not only is the child born, but at that moment the mother is also is born- she didn't exist before that moment in that capacity. It's true for me, but to a different layer. The first time I experienced birth, it was with major bonding issues, which produced guilt and other complications. The second experience has been completely opposite. Each step has helped me realize what should be- should have been. While I still struggle with guilt for not being as good with my first baby as I can be with the second one, I realize that I honestly did the best I could. More than that, I'm learning to forgive myself. I'm learning how love multiplies instead of divides with a second child. Oddly enough, it's like each good thing that I unlock with my second child, I also learn how to apply it to my first. The strong bond I've formed with my new baby has only shown how much stronger I can love my first- and strengthened that relationship. However, I realize how symbiotic this relationship is: without the struggle and pain of learning through much trial and error with the first, much of the sweetness I'm experiencing now with the second wouldn't be happening- both experiences are enriching the other.

The great fear I had of repeating my first experience has been replaced with more gratefulness than I can explain. I realize how blessed I am- I KNOW what could be, and isn't. It strengthens my desire to help other new mothers struggling with their firsts. If I can ever use my pain to bless someone else in helping them avoid it, it helps my struggles seem less meaningless and they become redeeming.

To all of the mothers who helped me through that time, bless you. I'll never forget it.

Regret's a funny thing. You can learn from it or let it drag you down.

Joining choir in 8th grade was a life-changing experience. I had spent the previous 2 years learning saxophone in band with a teacher who was verbally... um, strong. I don't learn best in that sort of environment, though I feel weak for admitting it.

Our choir teacher was a larger-than-life person with a way of building people up where they could do things they thought were impossible. Like singing in front of an entire class of peers alone. Or in front of a large audience. Or in front of a judge. The first time I was called in for my turn to sing in front of a judge, my face turned a funny shade of whitish gray and I felt incredibly sick... but it got better each time. Choir helped teach me to stand by myself and be an individual, while at the same time being part of a community and working together to create a desired outcome.

It helped me earn a scholarship to college. There, though, I had to, once again, audition in front of the teacher to figure out my placement in the choir and whether I would be in the special ensemble. I tried out for both, because, I was already there, why not? But insecurity leaped in. After all of the preparation through middle school and high school choir, it still got me down... and I convinced myself that was too scared to give it my best shot. My voice was shaky and when I needed to repeat back a tonal example, I gave up and said I couldn't and left.

Thankfully, I still had the scholarship and a place in the choir, just not the ensemble. That memory, though, sticks with me. I COULD have sung the tryout. I know that now. I can see now what a lie insecurity is. How ironically founded it is in pride. How failure is not a life-time sentence, just a learning experience in our journey towards God. I can see how fear of failure inhibits growth.

Where do we learn to give up? Where do we learn to judge ourselves as harshly as we imagine the world judges us? Where do we learn that it's better to think we can't do something than to try it and fail?

More importantly for me now, how do I teach my children that they CAN do things? How do I teach them that failure is healthy and sometimes even a necessary step towards success?

I don't know. But I'm not giving up on teaching them.