When we treat children's play as seriously as it deserves, we are helping them feel the joy that's to be found in the creative spirit. It's the things we play with and the people who help us play that make a great difference in our lives. - Fred Rogers

My best friend from early childhood and I would spend hours playing “Teacher” in her tiny bedroom. We would even record ourselves on one of those enormous tape players and laughed till we cried as we listened to ourselves acting out our roles in our imaginary world. Understanding my own experience as well as watching others, I’m convinced that one’s imagination and ability to play is a gift God uses to share Himself with us.

I’ve recently asked some people what games they played as children. Common answers are things like “School, Doctor, Firefighter, Army, and House.” Uncommon answers have been games like “Travel Agent and Runaways.” Seriously, runaways. That is so funny to me, but I digress. In recent research in child development, identifying the ability to have shared or “co-attention” on imaginary scenarios is a critical skill for one’s ability to relate to and work with others, as well as provide a foundation for analytical thinking, and reasoning.

I’ve seen this to be very true in my experience with children, both in the abundance of the skill, or lack thereof. Shared attention on an alternate or incomplete reality takes commitment, creativity, a strong desire to be with others and a willingness to navigate differences to move forward in the “game.”

The parallels of one’s relationship to God are easy to draw from this childhood phenomenon. God is making a new reality in the world. His game, so to speak, is to make all things new; to heal brokenness, answer human sadness, abolish the effects of evil, and restore all goodness to creation. That is what we all as humans long for too.

We have a shared scenario and co-attention with God. We can, and should, play with Him as the world of our imagination becomes reality.

In His great wisdom and grace, God has gifted us with all necessary tools to both sense and participate in this shared reality. From the seed of desire for wholeness to the power of the resurrection of Jesus in our lives, we are intimately involved in the game of bringing wholeness. We “play” with God when we celebrate victories big and small in other’s lives, when we pursue wisdom, lament injustice, fight for the underdog, and seek reconciliation.

Ultimately, God has promised to complete this reality and we will have eternity to glory in it. So, the next time you see children engaged in imaginary scenarios together, think of the complexity of sharing in this, and be reminded of God’s commitment to share His greatest reality with you.

That’s how things go sometimes, isn’t it? Something or someone is a part of your daily life and then it’s not. I can’t say that I am exactly heartbroken about the whole situation as the office has become a bit of fraternity house in recent years. We haven’t had any raging parties or anything; just added a number of secondhand furniture items. It also had a distinct smell. Not a bad one, just distinct. Anyway.

Regardless, I don’t feel right about the memory of the office disappearing into thin air. It was our office. So, I thought it appropriate to memorialize it with a poem. Here it goes:

Grace office, sad to see you go

The smell, discolored furniture, and water-stained ceiling

A lucid reminder that things are the way they’re supposed to be

I mean aren’t

But you were ours

We didn’t love you as you deserved, especially the carpet

But you so freely gave

Unpretentious, humble, unsanitary

You gave and gave and gave

Never asking for anything

Demanding nothing

Thank you

We will miss you

And grateful for our time together

So, what’s next for Grace Seattle staff? In the short-term, we’re nomads, but hopefully not for long. We are diligently looking for a new office. A place we can call home.

If you are so inclined, please pray for this search. We eagerly desire God to give us a place that can serve as a base of operations and be a more visible presence on Capitol Hill. Thank you.

And thank you 1406 10th Avenue, Suite 102.

Image and Story

At first glance, Caravaggio’s iconic image of Jesus being taken from the cross he died on seems dark and brutal. Just as death parades itself to be. Unexpectedly however there is life in this image. Rarely are religious images of the dead Christ without emblems of birth, life, or eternity. Even in this Counter-Reformation image characterized by the artist’s use of dark and light, there are whispers of things to come.

Imagine if this life size painting were hanging in a position that you were eye level with the body of Christ. As viewer of this scene, our eyes descend the diagonal line of mourners. Each one in their own world of sorrow. One holds hands to heaven, mouth gaping, another falls in on herself, others take the weight of the dead Christ silently, stoically.

It is hard to look closely at those that grieve.

But sorrow was not meant to be private. We are invited to look directly at the man who faces outward and are brought further into the scene when our eyes fall to the body of Jesus. We are part of the scene now.

The light in the image is brightest on the body of the dead Christ. We are forced to linger here. To consider the weight of his innocence and our guilt.

The arm of Jesus hangs limp, and his fingers rest just to the outside of the platform. This is an invitation to the viewer to come closer, to look at what is below...stones, a corner of the white cloth used to wrap the body, and a single green plant. These three symbols combine to tell the story of what was, is, and is to come: A hard earth, innocent shed blood, and life forevermore. As invited viewers of this scene we can in our hearts embrace Jesus as he descends from the cross, and trust that what is to come answers every sorrow.

Last month, Michael briefly described how spaces of worship influence our conception of God and why it’s important for believers to be aware of that phenomena.  Drawing both from Michael and this quote from Perez-Gomez, I’ll take this opportunity to offer that worship spaces are important because they are a part of the liturgy itself.

Without any elaboration, the quote above seems, simply, to be an interesting way to think about architecture and design. Here in Seattle, we find ourselves in the midst of a situation that started long before we arrived.  And surely, the city, its government, its structures will continue on in familiar form long after we are gone. From our present perspective it’s difficult to imagine the effort it took to build the city in its current form: the harbor, parks, concert halls, office buildings, parking lots, bus routes, highways, toll-bridges, stoplights and gas stations—all of these physical things that we have put ourselves in the middle of. Thankfully, there are plenty of history books, tours, municipal websites and Wikipedia to help us understand how all this stuff came about. At some moment in time, in some part of the city, merely by our presence in the city, we become a part of it. We use the parks with our families. We drive work. We take the bus to the market to meet friends.  And we attend church to worship. All of these activities and spaces make up the drama of our lives and, in a way, add to the story of Seattle.

Just as we are now briefly a part of the Seattle’s story, we are also a part of God’s story--In Media Res, right in the middle of it. We need resources to tell us who God is and to know what He has intended for us. One of the ways in which we as a body of believers come to know God is through the retelling of God’s relationship with humanity.  Within the Liturgy the history of God’s relationship with Mankind is recounted in the Confession of Sin, the Receiving of Grace, Teaching, and even in the content of worship music. That relationship is again recalled and even strengthened through communion, petitioning, and tithing.  But what does this have to do with architecture and why should we care? For one thing, the church for us is the site where we remember God’s interaction with humanity and even uniquely experience it. It’s a sacred space.  More importantly, when we think of Ecclesiastical Architecture in terms of Liturgy, we realize that it is the tactile expression of God’s finished work-a physical, encapsulating and instructive reminder of His promises for a redeemed community, city, and earth. It’s a taste and microcosm of the City of God.

Bradley Paynter is attendee of Grace Seattle and studied architecture and design at Iowa State University.

Philosopher and theologian Nicholas Wolterstorff of Yale University once said that buildings, both inside and outside, speak and form. They not only say something about God and the church but shape its inhabitants. Worship space spiritually forms.

In other words, the right worship space is not simply about  aesthetics or inspiration, it’s about discipleship. Space matters.

Imagine two places of worship: An elegant cathedral with high ceilings and a warehouse laced with comfortable couches. Both will shape and, in my opinion, shape differently. Both will help develop one’s conception of God, what it means to a faithful Christian, and how to participate in theGod’s mission to bring God’s love to the world.

I have firsthand experience with this. I grew up worshiping in a building that was more like a museum than a comfortable home or hip gastro pub. It was a traditional church with stained glass windows and high ceilings. Each Sunday the pastor would preach from an elevated pulpit that required me to strain my neck to watch. As a child and adolescent, I believed God to be very holy, beautiful, powerful, and unfortunately, far off. Sort of like a famous painting, a life-changing experience but not very personal. In college, I worshipped in a gym with basketball hoops on both ends and banners recounting that school’s victories. It was more casual. Comfortable. I don’t think it was a coincidence that during this time I started to see God as closer and sort of like a buddy. Not one space was better than the other or one more distinctively Christian but both were formative. Certainly there is more to the story but my point is quite simply worship space matters in regard to discipleship.

Space matters. People are shaped by where they worship.

Why am I bringing this up? A couple of reasons. First, I think decision makers need to be intentional. A perfect place will never be found until heaven meets earth, but we can be intentional in developing a space that's consistent with who we believe God is calling us to be. Second, I think Christians need to be aware of their space and ask questions like how is this space forming me? Am I believing things about God or church that need to be challenged? Celebrated?

Space matters. Space forms.

Being raised with kingdom principles that are shared among their families, friends, faith community, and neighbors creates a cohesive environment wherein children are free to learn and live out their faith amidst the increasing complexities of life. It does take a village, as the saying goes, but really it takes a village with a shared purpose of fostering faith through experiential development. The spiritual presuppositions of a community and how they are lived out shape how children think, feel and enact their faith. This is spiritual formation.

Adults participate with God in children’s spiritual formation in innumerable ways. The most fundamental way is through personal relationships that demonstrate gospel grace, truth-telling and trust in God in all circumstances. Through building and maintaining relationships with a variety of believers in their religious context that intentionally share the gospel of Jesus Christ in word and deed, children grow up in a framework within which they can increasingly live out their faith in increasingly nuanced ways. Sometime in the future, they will consciously draw upon the model they lived in when deciding how and why to share the Christian faith to the children in their lives.

To illustrate how a community’s spiritual presuppositions and practices contribute to the spiritual formation in children, I will share what happens during snack time at Grace Church with and for the preschoolers. As children are called to the snack table, their hands are cleansed, and they are seated among their peers and adults. They sing a song of thanks to God and pass food to one another, or someone goes around offering them a choice of food. They engage in conversation about what they are thankful to God for that week, children and adults alike, and find commonalities between one another. This practice is not about filling time, or preventing hunger meltdowns, but rather a habit that has at its root the idea that we are created beings with individual needs and voices, yet we are also dependent on God as a community. Conversely, it contradicts the prevailing notion that we are autonomous entitled persons with no effect on our neighbors. Growing up within these sorts of communal habits shapes the hearts and minds of children, as well as the adults that commit to providing them with these experiences. Honoring spiritual formation during childhood with developmental understanding, relational intentionality, and thoughtful practices grows an intergenerational reliance on God that blesses all involved, and those yet to come.

Consider serving the children in your life with an expressed purpose.

I need a Christmas Eve worship service.

I grew up not needing one. As a child, I attended a church that celebrated Christmas during Advent. The church was decorated and services were festive. We would sing Christmas carols and sermons typically gave insight to the Christmas story. By the time the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services rolled around, it was just more of the same.

At Grace Seattle, we’ve adopted the practice of making a distinction between Advent and Christmas. Advent is preparation and Christmastide is celebration. This means that over the last couple of weeks, we’ve purposefully sought to foster a sense of longing in our services. Personally, I feel like we’ve done this a little too well. I’m not critiquing anyone; I’m simply longing to celebrate.

For the Christian, the Christmas season is such weird time of year. On the one hand, you’re bombarded with celebration. It seems everyone is spreading Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear. But, if you attend a church like Grace, you wonder if you’ve entered an alternate universe when you go to church. I suppose, in some ways, you have.

I think this is the way it ought to be.

Living between two worlds.

I need a Christmas Eve service, which I’m glad we’ll have for the first time in the life our church. We will celebrate. We will worship. Our longings will be realized.

I think doing Advent and then celebrating Christmas is very formative. It shapes us to be people who expect our Spirit-inspired longings to be fulfilled. This is a good thing because they will be. We need to get used to this.

It is important to remember that Advent is not Christmas. As our city decorates its streets and our work places throw Holiday or Christmas parties, it is formative for Christians to retain some distinction between the two. I am not at all suggesting Christians need to be belligerent and refuse to participate in these activities; such shared experiences create solidarity and deepen relationship. However, I am suggesting that it’s good for Christians and those exploring Christianity to have some space in their individual and community life to properly celebrate Advent. Practicing Advent lends itself to deepening our understanding that Jesus has come and promises to come again. Implementing habits and practices for these four-weeks uniquely connects our hearts and minds to truths that we need to remember but too easily forget.

In the past, my family has practiced Advent by following an Advent devotional guide, serving our city in some capacity, and worshipping with our church. This year we would like to continue with these activities along with following an Advent calendar.

Below are a few resources I think are helpful. If you have more, please tell us in the comments section.

Advent Devotional From Christ’s Church in Berkeley (my favorite)

Advent Devotional from Liberti Church in Philadelphia

All Star Advent Songs from Cardiphonia

List of Advent materials from Cardiphonia

Children are meant to worship God. To worship just as they are: open hearted, messy, impulsive, fidgety, emotional, rambunctious, or focused. As seen in the gospels, Jesus’ invitation to children was in full view of crowds filled with demanding and know-it-all adults. His invitation was, and is, an understandable and compelling word of delighted welcome and familiar embrace.

As a church with a desire to see kids being drawn ever closer to Jesus and growing into their unique worshiping selves, it is imperative that we continue to accept them as they are, worship with them whether their attention is sustained or not, and express this invitation of welcome and embrace to them week after week. By making it tangible through our own relational patterns as a community, we can be sure to imitate Jesus’ heart for children.

How have we done this, and how can we continue to? I believe Jesus’ desire to dignify children as whole members of His kingdom is seen among us in the soothing of a baby in the nursery. It is in the repeated crashing of Hot Wheels during playtime with a 4-year old. It is in the face-to-face conversation with a child about their dog recently swallowing a rock. It is with a smile of recognition as you walk alongside them in the communion line. It is in the practice of giving children generous space to express how they experience God’s love. Last week, one visiting child said with a beautiful sincerity of a young heart simply said, “God is hugging me.”

When a child is seen and known in the context of a worshipping community, it becomes all the more likely that they will grow to see themselves as valuable worshipers, ever more confident in their belonging to God.

Churches are often criticized for being inauthentic. Instead of being places where struggles are shared, the public image of its participants are that of superhuman, faithful, Bible reading robots who hit one home run after another.

The church needs to be a place of authenticity.

Thankfully, much of the church has identified this lack and is responding. However, the mistake we often make is narrowly defining authenticity as simply sharing struggles. Doing so has reduced the faith experience to an expression of what’s wrong with me and the world.

But that’s not the whole story. Yes, there are plenty of things wrong with you, me, and that other person. But the Gospel teaches us that God is also alive and working. He is bringing life into death. Thus, the Christian life is often a mix of these elements. Authenticity, therefore, is non-deceptively embodying and expressing the life and death of everyday living.

Embodying this sort of authenticity is powerful.

This past weekend, Grace Seattle hosted Introduction to Grace, a weekend seminar on the nuts and bolts of our church. It was here I was reminded of the power of authenticity. People were talking about their experience of our congregation. One individual told the story of how on her first Sunday a baby was being baptized. It was clear from what was said the family had struggled for years, in general and in their marriage. It was also clear, however, that God, even in the midst of struggle, was healing and restoring relationships. For her, she heard enough to conclude that authenticity was valued at our church, which was a very comforting and powerful. I am extremely grateful for this. It is a gift from God.

But why? Why is communal authenticity comforting and powerful?

An authentic community creates a safe place to both struggle and overcome. An authentic community creates space where we can identify what’s wrong with us and yet embrace healing in Jesus. An authentic community doesn’t put pressure on folks to be someone they’re not while at the same time doesn’t reward cynicism or negativity.

In short, an authentic community is a natural and safe place to be human.

I appreciate his sentiment but I think this quote is misleading. It suggests that the Gospel is only an experienced reality, not a learned one. However, if we look at Jesus’ ministry and the ministry he passed down to his disciples, we know that the Gospel is both experienced and learned; that is the Church is to preach the Gospel with both words and deeds. They go together and must not be separated.

If the church simply preaches the Gospel with deeds, no one hears and learns that Jesus lived, died, and resurrected so that people like you and me can be reconciled to God.

If the church simply preaches the Gospel with words, no one experiences the power of God’s love through human hands and that believing in him actually makes a difference in how we live.

Depending on a number of factors, the church tends to emphasize one or the other. To generalize, the current emphasis is the deed component. There are a variety of reasons for this, most of which are reactionary. But to be sure, the aim must be both. The Church must preach the Gospel in word and deed.

Graham Tomlin, in his book Provocative Church, helps us see the importance of doing both and how they relate to each other. He writes, “Just as Jesus’ words explained the significance of his actions, then the Church’s words have to do the same. If belief in the victory of God over all his enemies in the death and resurrection of Christ has given the community of Jesus’ followers unexpected hope, then it must also, in the worlds of 1 Peter, ‘be prepared to give an answer to every one who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.’ Without actions no one listens; with words, no one understands.”

I’m not talking about lacking self-confidence or self-esteem or losing a sense of one’s dignity. I am talking about getting sick of how you wrongly handle situations, think destructive thoughts, or act inappropriately. Basically, do you ever get sick of your sin and sinful patterns that are unique to you?

I’m constantly disappointed with myself. I would like to think this is more of an issue of being sensitive to God, but, really, I think it’s just my temperament. Regardless, it seems that at some point everyday I say, “Really? I’m going to do THAT again.”

I’ve noticed that being sick of your behavior often leads to one of two places:  Making more (or new) resolutions or grieving one’s sin. One leads to greater frustration while the other to repentance unto new life.

Let me explain.

For years, I’ve implemented the “I am going to do it differently next time” strategy. Essentially, I will get so sick of a certain behavior that I will make a rule or a promise (either to myself or God) to do it differently next time. This happened yesterday. I have a 3-year old. I love him dearly but, wow, does he have a gift for making me angry. This may be the way of the 3-year old, but regardless, I hate that I constantly get angry with him because, really, my anger is more about me and my need of control. It’s just a horrible way to relate to him. Anyway, our relationship has been quite difficult recently and on the way home yesterday from the office, I made a promise that whatever happens, I am not going to get angry. That lasted 10 minutes.

Not living up to one’s rules or resolutions breeds more frustration and an intensified sense of failure. Unless, of course, you’re one of these unique individuals who has great resolve and can simply do what you promise. If that’s the case, your resolve might breed self-righteousness, which is an issue that must be addressed in another post.

Grieving one’s sin is different. Grieving addresses the heart and then behavior. It requires one to see that sin has relational consequences, particularly with God, but also against those whom you violate.

Let me say it differently. Making promises ends with being more sick of yourself whereas grieving one’s sin leads to forgiveness. Making promises puts you and your power at the center of the story whereas grieving one’s sin puts God and his grace at the center. Making promises leads to breaking those promises whereas grieving one’s sin leads to a greater resolve, motivated by God’s love, to put to death the sin’s of the flesh.

In short, grieving your sin ultimately leads to the change that you are trying to accomplish by making promises. But if you want change - deep, inside-out change - you have to begin with grieving your sin.

So, do you ever get sick of yourself? If so, does it lead to making promises and new resolutions or to grieving?

The former leads to greater frustration whereas the latter to new life.

I know this because I’ve been there.  It is my daughter who will be baptized this Sunday, and for those who don’t know me or my husband well, we may seem just another normal couple with two kids.  But our family is anything but “normal.”  We stand before you as survivors of two second-trimester miscarriages, years of infertility treatment, a difficult period where we were dangerously close to divorce, years of marriage counseling, the adoption of a 4-month old baby, Lexi, and now the adoption of a five-day old embryo, Hannah.  Hannah, like her sister, is genetically unrelated to us, but is a full-fledged member of our family.  This Sunday, she will be baptized in recognition of God’s inclusion of her in His covenant family.

I hope you will join us in the coming weeks for subsequent blog posts about infertility and adoption.  We will explore the pain, loneliness, and beauty.  I will try to avoid spiritual platitudes because, quite frankly, they’re not helpful.  But know that if you are in this position, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  The publicity that came with second-trimester miscarriages and adoption of a four-month old (sort of hard to hide either of those) has connected us with literally dozens of people who have faced or are facing similar struggles.  Though individually isolating, it is breathtakingly common.  So let us explore these topics together and encourage one another.

“Let us remember that the life in which we ought to be interested in is daily life. We can, each of us, only call the present time our own… Our Lord tells us to pray for today, and so he prevents us from tormenting ourselves about tomorrow. It is as if [God] were to say to us: ‘[It is I] who gives you this day [and] will also give you what you need for this day. [It is I] who makes the sun to rise. [It is I] who scatters the darkness of night and reveals to you the rays of the sun.’”

Deadlines, uncertainty, anxiety, projects, boredom or temperament often turn our eyes from the present to the future. This is not necessarily a problem but can be if we fail to realize that God has given us today and it’s today that his mercy is available to us. The prophet Jeremiah put it this way:

“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.”

God’s mercy is everywhere today. It’s in his provision and presence. It was in the rising of the sun and will be in its setting. It’s in our relationships. It’s in our vocation and mundane tasks. It’s in our joy and in our pain.

We are to live today’s life and, in doing so, see and experience the mercy of God that is available to us.

Though unaffiliated, the Nones are often quick to point out that they have not given up on God, but rather on institutional Christianity. As a result, they seek spiritual nourishment and community in non-traditional ways.

I struggle to know how to respond to this growing trend. On the one hand, I understand. As a pastor, I am very aware of the sins and shortcomings of institutional Christianity–I understand how one might reach the point of wanting to walk away. On the other hand, I am grieved, because many people who walk away from the church end up walking away from the faith.

Though I struggle to respond, I think this trend is worthy of reflection. More than this, I think we need understanding. It will take work because this is a very complex issue involving deeply imbedded theological, philosophical, and sociological forces.

Ross Douthat is one person who has offered an analysis. In his must read Bad Religion, he quotes from The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers: “What appears to be the actual dominant religion among U.S. teenagers is central about feeling good, happy, secure, at peace. It is about attaining subjective well-being, being able to resolve problems, and getting along amiably with other people.” In other words, it doesn’t matter if is something is true. Rather, it must work and feel good. Such an approach, combined with Christianity, doesn't necessitate being a part of a church.

We need more people than Douthat to offer thoughts. The Church must respond. Those involved in institutional Christianity must not mock or ridicule or conclude, “They don’t get it.” We need those who are leaving church to dialogue. From both, we need understanding, love, and charity.

I am glad Jesus is the head of the Church and absolutely nothing can prevail against it.

Here are some brutal facts about life on the reservation:

• 100% of the Yakama people are affected by alcohol and drug abuse
• The average life expectancy of a member of the Yakama tribe is 39 years
• 70% of the teenagers on the reservation are homeless
• 65% of the kids on the reservation will drop out of middle school or high school
• Only 2% of Native Americans (nation-wide) claim to be Christians

In other words, we’ve headed straight into a culture that is marked by a lot of pain.

Why are we doing this? We are doing this because we think this is exactly the kind of thing God wants his people to do. We think that God has a deep, strong love for those who suffer in this life. And, he consistently calls his people to honor him by moving towards pain and suffering. Loving our neighbors often requires us to wade into a lot of messes.

This is a consistent theme throughout Scripture. What does God really want from his people? One very clear answer to this is that he wants us to care for the poor. Consider this text from Isaiah 58:

“Is not this the fast that I choose:

to loose the bonds of wickedness,

to undo the straps of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry

and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover him,

and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?”

This text was written to people that thought relationship with God meant merely going through religious practices like worship services and fasting. But, God tells them if you belong to me, you must care for the poor in some way, shape, or form. And here’s why: we must care for the poor because God cares for the poor. God uses his power to serve the weak, not to crush them. And God wants his people to do likewise.

Finally, it almost goes without saying that Christians are to care for the poor in a gospel-centered manner. Gospel-centered care for the poor is not the self-righteous posturing of a morally superior activist. Like every Christian, I am a redeemed trainwreck who is just trying to “do unto others” as God has done unto me. Caring for the poor is a natural outworking of how God (the strong) has treated me (the weak).

If you’re the praying type, please pray for me and the other team members this week. It’s a great privilege to be able to join God in this work.

I hate this. I really do.

I remembered how much I hate this on Tuesday evening when my youngest son had an allergic reaction to something he ate. He’s one. Not many things are more heart wrenching than watching a one year-old have an adverse reaction to something he needs—food. What’s worse is when that reaction threatens his very life. We’ve been here before. Our older son also struggles with food allergies. It’s been the cause of sleepless nights and many tears. It’s also brought some scary moments, one in particular when, after eating something (not sure what), he started coughing, wheezing, and not breathing normally. That night was spent in the emergency room. On Tuesday, we thought we were doing it all over again.

To make a long story short, our son recovered. What started out as lip swelling and a bit of wheezing, soon calmed down into what can be categorized as a mild reaction. Our fears were averted and peace soon settled in.

At least, for now.

I hate that my kids have allergies. I want them to have “normal” lives and be able to eat ice cream and cake instead of dessert-like things made of flaxseed and grass. But the truth is, my kids (or anyone else I love) will not escape the sin and brokenness of the world. No matter how hard I try. I will continue to watch those people whom I love suffer. I hate it but it’s true.

As I lay in bed on Tuesday and relived that night’s stress, I asked myself again how do I live in this world where the potential for so much difficulty exists? How do I live without being preoccupied with what’s around the corner?

I think the answer begins with realizing again and again what I said at the beginning of this post: I do not have control. Yes, I need to be wise in my decision-making, but I ultimately cannot situate my life (or the lives of loved ones) in a way that avoids difficulty.

But admitting that you have no control only gets you so far. Stopping there will result in becoming indifferent and avoiding deep, loving relationships. I think the only way to live in this world without becoming absolutely undone with anxiety is to know God’s immense love for his creation.

I have to put all my weight on this. God loves my kids. He loves them even more than me. God’s love doesn’t translate into us avoiding pain and futility; it simply ensures he’s in it with us and will be until that day where pain and futility will be no more.

- Andrea Palpant Dilley, author of Faith and Other Flat Tires

Every Christian doubts their faith, but some are plagued by it. It’s a constant force that pushes them into the valley where they ask if the struggle is really worth it.

People doubt their faith for a variety of reasons.  A recent conversation with a young woman who is often harassed by doubt revealed that she had tons of unanswered questions, most of which have not been addressed thoughtfully by other Christians. Sometimes it is a genuine struggle to believe that Christianity’s answers to life’s biggest questions – how did we get here, what’s wrong with us, how can we be made whole – are right when compared to other answers. Sometimes doubt has little to do with God, but rather societal or cultural norms that are squeezing out belief. Sometimes it’s not really doubt but an excuse so we don’t have to follow Jesus in a particular area of our life.

Doubt is a part of faith. If you insist that you don’t have doubt you might want to ask yourself if you actually have faith because a doubtless faith is superficial and sentimental and, quite frankly, not even possible.

So, the question isn’t whether or not you have doubt, but what do you do with it. John the Baptist, a man who struggled with doubt himself, offers some help.

In Matthew 10, John the Baptist is in prison and Jesus is immersed in ministry. John hears about it and sends some of his followers to Jesus to ask whether he is “the one who is to come” or if they should look for another.

These are words of doubt because, if you remember, earlier in Matthew, John demonstrates faith in Jesus. Upon Jesus’ baptism, John confesses that he needs to be baptized by Jesus because he is God’s promised Messiah. More strongly in John’s Gospel, John the Baptist confesses that Jesus is the Lamb of God, who takes away sin of the world. Words of conviction. Certainty.

Things change for John. After some time in prison, he wonders if his earlier conviction is really true. Is Jesus really the Messiah?

What does John do with his doubt? He takes it to Jesus.

I think this is key. We must go to Jesus. Yes, because it’s doubt, going to Jesus may be difficult or even feel inauthentic. Nonetheless, it’s necessary.

How does Jesus respond?

Does he say, “I thought you had faith?” Or, “How dare you? You’re the prophet. Prophets don’t doubt.” No. He says, “And Jesus answered (John’s disciples), 'Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.'"

Notice Jesus doesn’t answer John’s question. He often doesn’t (at least not to our satisfaction) but rather he points to the effects of the Gospel. What are the effects? Peoples’ lives are being changed. Healing and renewal is being experienced. Life is going forth into the world.

I often struggle with doubt and, when I do, I want live in my own head. However, I am beginning to believe that because God is big enough and secure enough to handle my doubt, I can go to him. And often, his gracious response is not to answer my questions but to give me eyes to see that he really is at work. Time and time again, when I see the effects of the Gospel at work in the world, I am renewed and strengthened.

May God give all us eyes to see his work.

1. Take a full interest in what they do.
2. Be a parent, not a buddy.
3. Initiate conversations and ask questions.
4. Say you’re sorry if you are wrong or have messed up.
5. Encourage them in everything they want to try, even if it doesn’t last very long.
6. If they develop a passion for something, support them.
7. Learn to say no when you need to.
8. Give lots of hugs and kisses.
9. Regularly tell them that you love them.
10. When they fail, be right there to help them get back on their feet.
11. Discipline, don’t punish, them.
12. Encourage structure in their life.
13. When things go wrong, don’t tell them how to fix it but help them come up with a solution themselves.
14. Teach them to stand up for what they believe.
15. Teach them to be polite.
16. Teach them to love God and others.

Although not perfectly, my parents pursued these principles. I am thankful, very thankful, they did. Not everyone has parents who do. I am who I am, for better or for worse, in part because of how my parents parented. And now, as a parent I want to give my children the same gift.

As I pursue these principles, I have to remember faithfulness does not ensure success. In other words, I can be the best parent the world has ever seen and still my kids can turn out to be a complete mess. Thankfully, the reverse is also true, I can be one of the worst parents and yet my kids may turn out to be individuals who love God and love their neighbor. This is not to suggest that how one parents doesn’t matter. It does. God uses our efforts. However, at the end of the day, parenting success is a matter of God’s grace.

I often forget this. As a result, when I am on a parenting win streak and my kids aren’t a wreck, I become self-righteous, and when failing, I veer off into despair. Realizing parenting is matter of God’s grace is one of the most freeing truths in the world. It enables one to parent with freedom and confidence instead of fear and the need to be overbearing.

Parents forget that their children’s future is a matter of grace.

Because God knows this and is gracious, he gives the gift of baptism, particularly infant baptism. Baptism, as Augustine said, is a visible form of an invisible grace. When children are baptized, God gives us a visible form of the promise that God will work in our child’s life regardless of our best or worse efforts.

In those moments when my parenting is marked by self-righteousness or despair, I remember my children’s baptism. As surely as the water was poured on my children’s heads, so is God’s grace.

Baptism is a remarkable gift.

Sitting at a table reading the Daily Office (essentially a Christian devotional developed by the Anglican Church) on his computer, a woman came up to him and asked what he was reading. After telling her, she informed him that she was also a Christian.  Curious, the woman eventually asked what happened to his arm. Now, what you need to know is that my friend had cancer at the age of 12 and lost his arm. Not just a little bit of it but all of it. Shoulder, down. You also need to know that he’s not happy that he lost his arm but he doesn’t think of it as suffering. It never crosses his mind.

Anyway, obviously endowed with boldness, she proceeds to say, without asking one question, that she feels my friend’s pain and asks if she could pray for him. Taking a look around the coffee shop and seeing that his appointment had not yet arrived, he thinks sure, why not. The woman then proceeds to pray God would heal his inner pain and that his arm would grow back.

I am not trying to make fun of the woman or suggest that God can’t grow back an amputated arm. I believe, along with my friend, this woman was well meaning. However, I think this story demonstrates how compassion can go awry.

Compassion is a gift from God and to the world. It is what moves us toward brokenness and prompts us to ask questions like, “What happened?” and “How can I help bring healing and peace?” But a key component to compassion is that it’s to be other-focused as opposed to self-focused and, when it’s not, love is lost.

Let me explain.

Self-focused compassion is all about satisfying self – one’s ambitions, feeling of purpose, and satisfaction.  These are often good byproducts of a life of compassion, but must never be the ultimate ends. On the other hand, other-focused compassion is all about others receiving love and peace and – albeit in part – healing and restoration.

Self-focused compassion, however well intentioned, is often dehumanizing. It fails to enter into another’s story and ask, “What do you need?” If this lady had done this, she would have quickly realized a million better things for which pray on my friend’s behalf. But she didn’t. All she saw was a man who didn’t have an arm. This obviously moved her, which is beautiful, but what happened next had little to do with my friend.

I often fall into the same camp as this woman. I am often moved to internal pain if I see visible effects of a broken world on another. This story is a reminder to me that if I feel compassion, it is wise to test what kind. Other-focused compassion leads to dignity not condescending pity.  Other-focused compassion lifts up the brokenhearted, but pity highlights the shame of the brokenness. Self-focused compassion can make others feel pretty stupid or, in my friend’s case, be the cause of a good laugh.

I’ve loved this time of year but have also despised it. I loved vacation because it’s been a source of short-lived fun but despised it because it never provided the rest I needed. My frustration was rooted in a fundamental belief that time away from the rigors of regular life is fundamental to rest. It’s not. Vacation does some things but it doesn’t provide the rest we actually need because our fatigue is always both physical and spiritual.

A few days before we left for this years vacation, I read Jesus words: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Rest, the rest for which we need and long, is ultimately found in Jesus. Though our fatigue is always bodily, it is also spiritual. A few days away from our daily demands is important and needed but it will never do what we often want it to do because it can’t.

I am glad I read those words before I left because it informed how I approached my time away. Going in, I realized that I needed to address both the fatigue of my body and of my heart. I realized that no amount of physical rest would ever be enough. I realized that it was a good time to intentionally press the promises of rest found in Jesus deeper into my heart by doing things like praying, reading, and meditating on Scripture.

All of this was very helpful for me because I didn’t demand that vacation do something that it can’t. Rest can be experienced on this side of heaven but not fully realized.  As a result, I was more pleasant to be around, had more fun, felt more rested at the end of vacation, and cultivated habits that will help me experience rest in the midst of the rigors of everyday life.