The “More-Than-Rules” Book

It was seriously only going to take two minutes.

The fish was out of the oven and cooling on the plate when I prematurely said, “Do you want to eat?” Claire went into panic mode.

“EAT! EAT!” she signed frantically, adding a desperate cry when I did not immediately put food in front of her.

“Patience, love! Wait patiently for just a minute. I don’t want you to burn your mouth. I promise, the fish will be cool enough to eat in just a minute.”

Her signing grew almost violent and her cries turned into a siren blast. Don’t worry, she did get fed. You would think we starve the child instead of feeding her EVERY hour. I don’t know where all that food goes on her twenty pounds. But goodness, I had to wait until it was cool. My command – “Wait!” – was a law of love, out of concern for her well-being, within the context of knowing that she was not going to starve in the meantime!

The chaos had calmed down when Spencer raised a very good question.

“How are we going to teach her that rules are not just rules? I don’t want to tell her a rule – Don’t complain. Obey mom and dad. Be patient. – and when she asks why, just say, ‘Because the Bible says so.’ How do we teach her that it’s not just about behavior, but about the heart?”

Great question. So we started talking about it, and the “More-Than-Rules” book was born. Or, at least the seed of the idea of the book. And really, that’ s a bit misleading. It’s not a book. We simply decided that as Claire grows in understanding, we need to be prepared to shepherd her in the Word of God, not just the “words” themselves. We want her to see God’s heart behind His commandments. So we are going to try to be preemptive in this and think of how we might explain why God has given us certain commandments to obey. More than just abstract or random rules…but loving, gracious rules that reflect a loving, gracious, holy, and powerful God.

I thought I might do this in blog form. And here is a disclaimer, mostly to myself because I get big ideas and usually fall short on the follow-through. I don’t know how many blogs I will post on this subject, how often they will come, how consistent they will be. Not every future post will be on this subject. But I look forward to meditating on different commandments and thinking ahead to how I will present these to Claire. And I have a feeling that, on this journey, I will be more convicted than anyone.

Our goal as parents is to teach Claire to love the Word of God, and to love the God of the Word. Our goal in the “More-Than-Rules” book is to show her God’s heart of love through His commandments, and ultimately to teach her the beautiful gospel over and over again.

“Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in Your law…I delight in your laws because I love them.” Psalm 119:18, 47

Oh Lord, may it be so!

Unimpressive Moments

Last night I put my baby in the crib. This morning a one-year-old woke me up. (An hour early, I might add. So much for that extra hour of sleep.)

She doesn’t look any different today than she did yesterday. She’s not any taller, and her conversations still sound suspiciously like gibberish, and her steps are still very wobbly. But sometime between yesterday and today, she turned into a one-year-old. Okay, specifically at 4:58 this afternoon. But you know what I mean.

This first birthday is a big milestone. Kind of like graduations and wedding days and anniversaries. I’m so glad that life is not found in the big milestones.

If life was defined by these milestones, then I think I would be sad most of the time. Because life would be spent in increasing anticipation for a certain event and then a huge letdown once it was over.

Even though I loved my wedding day, I love my marriage even more. I’m thankful that I graduated from high school and college and seminary, but I’m more thankful for the experiences that filled my high school, college, and seminary days. I enjoyed celebrating my baby’s birthday, but more than that I enjoy my “every-days” with her.

It’s kind of like when Elijah was waiting for the Lord to pass by. A “great and powerful wind” blew in and literally shattered the mountains. An earthquake rumbled through. A great fire blazed.

God was not in them.

Then a gentle breeze started to blow. There He was. In the quiet. In the unimpressive moment.

Jesus defined eternal life as knowing God in John 17:3. I want to know Him. Not just on the mountaintops, but in the everyday moments. I want to teach my daughter about Him when we sit at home and when we walk along the road, when we lie down and when we get up. I want to teach her that life is not defined by the wind and the earthquakes and the fires. It is in the gentle breeze.

And so I am not afraid of all the milestones yet to come. I look forward to all the “firsts” and “lasts” in my daughter’s life, but I will not build my life around them only to be disillusioned and sad once they are accomplished. I plan on thoroughly enjoying my one-year-old this year, in every unimpressive moment that we have together…because those moments are where life takes place.

I Feel a Change a-Comin'

The Smoky Mountains are on fire with red, orange, and yellow brilliance.

Mmmmm, I love fall. I love the vibrancy of the colors, the aroma of baked apples and cinnamon and roasted pumpkin, the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, the crispness of the evening air. For someone who is not always all that thrilled about change, I sure do love the season that represents it.

As the temperature drops here in the mountains, my hot green tea season has officially started. And I find that morning tea has a way of slowing me down and getting me in a “thinking spot,” as that old sage Winnie the Pooh liked to call it.

So much has changed in my life over the past few years. And I mean monumental changes. I think about where we were two years ago…

In the flatlands of eastern North Carolina…

Both in seminary…

Both with steady jobs…

And no kids…

Fast forward two years, and here we are…

In the mountains…

Spencer in physical therapy school…

With a couple of very part-time, a little bit inconsistent, jobs…

And a beautiful daughter…

And what is next? Because if there is one thing I’m learning, it’s that life is always in flux. In less than a year Spencer will be done with school and then I have no idea where we’ll go. It could be anywhere. And in less than three weeks our little girl will turn one year old. My baby will officially be a toddler. What???

Someone told me this picture should be titled, “Oh the Places You’ll Go.” That makes me want to cry.

But, change is inevitable. As much as I want to keep my baby a baby, she will still grow up. As much as I don’t want to leave the friends I have made here, leave we must when Spencer is done.

Faithfulness. At times like this it is my saving grace. God’s faithfulness “reaches to the sky” (Psalm 108:4); it “continues through all generations” (Psalm 100:5). His mercies are new every morning.

Today His mercies toward me include having an almost one-year-old who is just discovering how to say words like “beh-bay” (“baby”…come on, you didn’t get that???) and gathering up the courage to take her first steps unassisted. They include spending time with amazing friends and just soaking in their wisdom; teaching Bible studies to teenagers and to college girls; leading a fitness class for some very enthusiastic moms; and playing music to aid in the corporate worship of a precious body of believers.

Tomorrow? I don’t know yet. But I do know that His mercies will be new, and they will be sweet, and His faithfulness will still be great. And on this cool autumn day, as I sip my hot green tea and gaze at the red and orange and yellow show in my backyard, I am very grateful for my very faithful God.

Sing Over Me

I sing to Claire a lot. I always have. About 90% of the time I’m just being silly. In fact, when Claire was a newborn, instead of telling her what I was doing I would sing it…

Oh, we just have to change a diaper now
It will only take a minute, don’t cry so loud

I sing to her in the car…

Hey, silly kiddo, what is she doing?
Hey, silly kiddo, what is she doing?
Is she being kind of silly? (Yeah, yeah)
Or is she being kind of funny? (Yeah, yeah)
Is she being kind of sweet? (Yeah, yeah)
Or is she just a little hungry? (Yeah, yeah)

I sing to her after her bath, when she’s all wrapped up in her towel…

I’ve got a bathtime burrito, a bathtime burrito
I’ve got a bathtime burrito
And she’s a silly billy – Whoo!

Incredibly deep, I know. So, that’s 90% of our day. But then there is that other 10% - the part where I’m not singing to her, but I’m singing over her. And there is a huge difference.

It’s time to go to sleep. I hold her and feed her and pray for her. And then, in the moments before I put her in her crib, I sing over her. It’s one of my favorite times. When I am singing over my daughter, I don’t sing fun, silly songs. I sing songs that have a message that I want to transfer from my heart to hers. I sing words that are life-giving, words of peace and of hope and of salvation.

Be still, my soul, the Lord is on your side…

Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe
Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow…

For I know whate’er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well…

Zephaniah 3:17 pictures God quieting us with His love and singing over us with joy. I just can’t help but think that He treasures those moments when we can be still and quiet enough to let His song soak into our hearts and give us hope.

I sang over Claire tonight, and now she is sleeping peacefully. Soon I will lay my head down as well. Be still, my soul…and listen…

“By day the Lord directs His love; at night His song is with me...” Psalm 42:8

Cuddle-Bug

You know those babies who want nothing more than to cuddle with their mama when they are upset or tired? The ones who can be comforted when they are upset simply by laying their head against their mommy, maybe sucking on a pacifier or a thumb, and basically just being a little cuddle-bug?

Yeah, I don’t have one of those.

Don’t get me wrong. Claire loves to be held…just not so much cuddled. She likes to be held upright where she can look at everything. And true, there are some moments when she will lay her head against me as I sit in the rocking chair and sing over her. I treasure those moments.

But if my daughter is upset – you know, the kind of upset where baby doesn’t know why she’s crying but mommy knows it’s the kind of cry that comes from being too tired – then she is the furthest thing from a cuddle-bug. Instead of leaning into me, Claire arches her back, pushes away from me, throws her head back and cries even harder. It’s so frustrating.


“Love, if you’ll just rest against me. I know why you are upset. I know what you need. You need rest; you need to lay your head down and relax in my arms and just let me hold you. You need to cease striving. You need to be still.”

But she refuses to be comforted. Sometimes I just have to put her in her crib and let her cry for a good five or ten minutes before she will allow herself to be consoled. I just walked out of her bedroom, where I found her covered with tears, yes, and snot, and finally ready to be comforted. If only she had laid her head down the first time I offered my love.

“Be still and know that I am God.”

I know there are a lot of ways in which we need to “be still.” We need to turn off the noise, slow down the schedule, be in the moment. But right now, I’m thinking about my daughter. I am thinking about how instead of being still when she is overcome with fatigue and emotions, she responds to my presence with confusion and resistance and striving. She doesn’t want me to put her down, but she refuses to accept the rest that I offer.

And I’m thinking about how many times my Father has wanted to comfort me and I have refused to be still. I wonder how many times He has had to leave me alone to have my pity-party or my temper-tantrum and to cry out enough tears to finally be exhausted enough to receive His love. How many times do I respond to my out-of-control emotions, or my overwhelming circumstances, or my flat-out fatigue, by throwing my head back, arching my back and crying, when my Father is closer than I acknowledge, desiring to hold me and comfort me and remind me of His power and love and authority in my life?

“Child, if you’ll just rest against Me. I know why you are upset. I know what you need. You need rest; you need to lay your head down and relax in My arms and just let Me hold you. You need to cease striving. You need to be still.”

Adam and Who?

A profound thought hit me tonight.

I have been thinking a lot lately about the Deuteronomy 6 principle – how as parents, we are to teach God’s truth to our children as we walk, sit, lie down, and rise. All day we are to informally impart God’s holy Word to them. Relating His truth to our children should be as natural as breathing.

As a teacher, I love this because I know that children learn best as they do life, not as they sit and listen to a lesson (though there is certainly a time and a place for that as well). And so I have been praying…for myself, to have the wisdom to teach all day every day…for Claire, to love the Word of God from an early age and to have ears to hear and to cultivate a receptive heart.

Tonight I sat down and thought about the story of redemption. If I am to teach my daughter the treasure of God’s Word, I need to have that truth written on my heart so that it flows off my tongue almost without effort (for out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks). So starting in Genesis, I set out to jot down a very rough outline of the stories and characters that fill the chronicle of redemption. I got as far as Creation…Adam and Eve…and then I stopped.

Once again, I was struck in the face with something terribly obvious:

Claire doesn’t know who Adam and Eve are.

Yes, I am a college graduate, and in fact, I even have a master’s degree. But sometimes you just don’t stop and think about the most obvious, simple truths. And I have never stopped to consider that Claire has zero concept of God, sin, salvation. And she has never heard of Adam and Eve.

It’s not that I haven’t thought about the fact that I need to teach her these things, but I think I have always taken for granted the background knowledge that we all have on which to build. When I taught second grade, I showed kids how to add and subtract. But I didn’t have to teach them what numbers were. They already knew that.

It blows my mind that Claire is basically a “blank slate” – not when it comes to morality, because yes, even my little sunshine is a depraved sinner – but in regard to knowledge of the truth. And this also brings me to my knees. It makes me thankful for my parents, because I honestly can’t remember a time when I didn’t know who Jesus was or what He did for me. But somewhere along the line, they must have told me that for the first time. I am floored when I think of the weight of responsibility that I have to know the Scripture accurately and to relate it to my child on her level.

I am begging God to remind me of the truth I already know, and to teach me more. I want to have all His treasures stored up in my heart so that I can teach my children His ways. But I also realize that my motivation for learning cannot be just to benefit my children, because what will happen when they eventually grow up and leave home? No, my desire to learn must be driven by a hunger for God to reveal Himself to me, to make His presence known, to teach me and to change my heart.

So it makes perfect sense that in Deuteronomy 6, immediately preceding the counsel to parents to teach God’s commandments diligently to their children, rests this command: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.”

Get ready, Claire. We are about to set off on a grand adventure. And it begins with the story of creation, and with two people named Adam and Eve…

Labor of Love

I just hung up the phone from talking with my brother. He is at the hospital with his very pregnant wife, who is having contractions every two to three minutes.

Poor Bonnie.

And as I sit and wait anxiously for news of my very first niece (I warned my mom that I will be calling every five minutes), I can’t help but remember.

Nine months ago I was having contractions. I don’t miss that part.

I remember the anticipation leading up to that day…the fear mixed with wonder and excitement. I remember wishing with all my heart that I could skip the whole labor and delivery part. I mean, the nine months of pregnancy were great. And I couldn’t wait to hold my little girl in my arms. I just wanted to skip the in-between part. Is that too much to ask?

But God has a purpose in all things.

The pain was worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. It was intense – so intense, in fact, that I forgot to ask for an epidural because I was so focused on getting through each contraction. But it was nothing compared to the joy and awe I felt when I gave that final push and all of a sudden, my slimy child was placed in my arms. Now, up to that point, I secretly wished they wouldn’t hand her to me right away. I thought my first memory of seeing my baby would be better if she were already cleaned up and suctioned and all that good stuff. But believe me, when the moment came, I thought I had never seen anything more beautiful. It didn’t bother me one bit that she wasn’t clean. I was just relieved that she looked like a person at all! (The only images I could picture in my mind were the ultrasounds, and they made my child look a little more extraterrestrial than human.) I remember saying over and over, “She’s so beautiful!”

The most beautiful things are born through the most painful labor.

I realize that there are so many places you could go with that concept, but the one in mind right now is the one Christ was pointing to when He said…

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.” John 16:21

Such a true statement. And no one knew this better than Jesus. Oh, we women think we know. We walk (or waddle) around for nine months and anticipate the day of pain leading to the life of joy that is coming.

Jesus knew the labor that He would experience from the moment Adam fell in the garden. Well, let’s be honest, even that didn’t catch Him by surprise. So really, the “anticipation” has been since eternity past. Much longer than nine months. And His labor would be far worse. We suffer the pain of contractions. He suffered the wrath of the Father – the righteous indignation against every sin ever committed – the hell of separation from the Father with whom He had identified as one with Himself. He became sin.

What joy could possibly result from such agony? What could be worth the anguish of the cross?

For Jesus, it was us. Impossibly, we are the children that are born through His suffering. Incredibly, He sees us with as much (even greater) joy than I had when I saw my daughter. Amazingly, He looks at us, covered with the sinful slime of our pre-deliverance, and He thinks we are beautiful. He doesn’t want anyone (including ourselves) to take us and attempt to clean us up before He gathers us into His arms. He wants us just as we are. He will clean us up. He has earned that right.

What a miracle there is in beauty born of suffering.

Hold on, Bonnie. Your joy is coming.

The Forbidden Electrical Cords

I’m learning a lot from my 8 month old.

“Claire, with anything in the living room you may play…but with the electrical cords you may not play, for the day you play with them you will surely get in trouble.”

I’m really not trying to deprive my child of anything good. I have set out baby proof toys, kitchen utensils, books – anything I could think of that she might enjoy getting into. I have things in boxes and bags and on shelves all over the living room so she can enjoy her sense of discovery as she pulls things out and throws them on the floor. I love watching her play.

But the one thing that she is not allowed to play with is the electrical cords.

I cannot remove the cords because they are necessary for the functioning of our everyday lives. They are the one thing in the living room that incur a resounding and consistent “No!” from Spencer and myself when Claire reaches for them. The cords are forbidden for Claire’s own good. It is dangerous for her to play with them, and besides, there are so many other good things that she could play with all around her.

So why is it that they are Claire’s favorite object of interest? Why is it that every time I turn around, she is crawling toward the one thing that is forbidden, the one thing that could cause her harm?

“Child, of any tree in this garden you may eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you may not eat – for in the day you eat of it, you will surely die.”

Why is it that Adam and Eve were captivated by the one fruit they were not allowed to have – the one fruit that would usher death into this world? Why is it that every day we choose the one thing that God has forbidden? Why is sin so appealing? If only we truly knew and appreciated the Father’s character, understanding that anything He has forbidden is not a withholding of something good, but an avoidance of danger and harm and tragedy.

Claire doesn’t understand my intentions yet. Honestly, she doesn’t even understand the word “no”, but we’re working on that.

Maybe my proclivity toward sin demonstrates that I don’t truly understand my Father’s intentions. The more I seek Him, the more intimately I know Him, the better I will understand that when He says “no”, it is for my good.

“Do not despise the Lord’s discipline, and do not resent His rebuke, because the Lord disciplines those He loves, as a father the son he delights in.” Proverbs 3:11-12