Two Truths and a Lie

Two truths and a lie. I remember playing this game. I’ve been playing it this week with my own mind. Ever since we almost doubled the size of our family by welcoming our twins, the reality that I now have more children than hands to hold them has been calling me into fear. I am struggling with two truths and a lie. As we drive through town I think “what if we got pushed off a bridge into water. How would I save all my kids from drowning?” or, “ what if there was a fire? Could I really get all of them out safely?”  I’m sure these are thoughts that cross every parents mind at some moment or another but when you have three under thirteen months the responsibility for their safety combined with the reality of their helplessness is a  sum that can sometimes leave one breathless. I’m sure I’m not alone. Another “every parent “moment was had the other night. It was late and one of the twins chose to reject all attempts of us getting her to sleep in her crib next to her sister who was snoring. How can you argue with a cute little double chin that just grins with sparkling eyes when she says, “I just want to be with you!”. So we brought her to bed and she immediately fell asleep; arms flat up over her head that was turned to one side with the most delicate little eyelashes resting on full cheeks, so still until they momentarily raised into a smile. That smile punched me in the stomach with pure undiluted love. It pressed up through my chest as I said through sobs to my husband, “I love her so much!”. This is when you become a parent. There are many people who “have kids” but you become a parent when the love you have for your child wrestles your desire for self gain and self comfort to the ground and smothers it dead. Your brain is changed from that moment forward. But you can dwell in that moment a little too long. If you dwell in that moment long enough and you allow yourself to fully comprehend the frailty of that child and your lack of ability to control this chaotic world combined with that desperate love you  have for them, your heart will be filled with  fear, terror, at break neck speed, because babies are made of so easily destructible flesh and bone but we feel they are more valuable than our own lives and the lives of many others.  It’s terrifying to love so deeply. And you know where I am going with this… That’s how the Father loves us. He so violently loves us that he threw himself onto a torturing cross to pay for our wrongs. But back to my point, there are two truths and a lie here. It is true and right for me to love my child, it is true that this world is full of sin and pain, and death really is coming for my child at every turn but it is wrong and it is a lie that I should have fear, that I should feel helpless in light of those truths. The answer is “no”, I may not be able to save my babies in an unforeseeable accident. I may not be able to keep them safe all the days of their lives and even if I do save them death WILL come for them unless it pleases the Lord that they are of the single generation who will never see death.

Romans 8:15 For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, ""Abba," Father."

So I have been crying “Abba, Father.” More lately… actually three times more than usual. I say “Abba Father, align my will with yours. Your ways are so much better than mine, even when they include my suffering or the suffering of one who I love.”

It has been one year since God broke my chest open through my fathers and made my heart more His own. He died after a heart surgery in which there was only a one percent chance at loss of life. The doctors sawed my dads chest open and God gently opened mine making a wound that will not heal in this lifetime. I feel selfish talking about my wound of a dead father when so many walk around this earth never even having known their father or worse never being loved by their father, when my father was one of the best who loved his bride and his children with a passion that mimicked the Lords. How can I even call what happened a tragedy when the fifty three years we had , including his death was nothing but blessing. I have a wound now but it was put their by a surgeon. It was put there so that God, the Great Physician can mercifully grab hold of my heart whenever He needs and say directly to my heart with nothing hindering “Hey my love, are you desiring me?!  Hey do you remember how you loved me that night I took your father home? Do you remember how you told me to have my way and not yours even if it meant his death? Please love me like that every second of every day my daughter! It’s for your good, it’s for my glory! Remember, don’t forget while you’re sweeping up snack time and Satan says your work is meaningless. Don’t listen when he tells you your actions are dramatic and uncalled for when you kneel on your children’s bedroom floor and pray for their souls and ask that I would protect them but that I would ultimately have my way, that you love me more than them. Remember how I cared so much for you that I wounded you. I cut you to heal you.”

Do you ever forget about things? You tie one of those red strings around your finger and write seven sticky note reminders and still forget about that dentist appointment or that thing you had to do? Do you ever forget about the cross? Do you ever just go about your day and then your week passes and you haven’t dwelt in the presence of the Lord, haven’t meditated on His glory and His word? Grief is that red string around your finger for the Lord except it works every time. I start thinking about my dad and drift into thoughts surrounding his death, like how his blood had to be passed through a machine that looked like a slurpee maker at seven eleven and I’m undone, I have to seek the Lord, and when I don’t, I spiral out, until I find myself on the floor asking “why am I so bitter? Why am I being so mean to my husband!?” and then I remember that I have a wound …….and I weep and worship”

So we can’t fear these hardships that life will bring. We can’t walk in fear of what is coming for our kids and those we love because God is in control. God is the ultimate deciding factor in what happens to your kids and if tomorrow I go in to wake up little Mara and Phina and find they have gone home to Jesus it will be for my good and for the glory of God. He is making me new….. and it’s messy. And sometimes the level of wickedness in my heart has to be matched with an event that cuts me so deep I have nowhere to go but to the Lord for help and for healing.

Oh the unwavering holiness of God. If I could see it in an image it would be a tsunami wave with a great metal blade spanning the crest, buildings high.  It comes for those that run from it and those who stand on the shore with arms wide. It crashes and crushes and once you drown in it your free.  I’m still swimming, breathlessly treading water, bobbing and fighting  to keep from that one last moment before I inhale the wave. I’m fighting against freedom.

I imagine myself as the one on the shore with arms wide but now that I am awash in God’s ocean of teaching I flounder, I fight for one last breath of air, of control, my will, my way.  That must be what drowning is like; you fight and fight until you come to a point where you must choose to take a breath and fill your lungs with water. I’ve read from those who have experienced it that at that point you are set free, euphoria sets in and calm.

It’s been one year and I am treading water. But one year ago I did drown. I stood on the shore with arms wide and let the blade wave run me through. I did let my will and my way die for one night. I said, “have your way King Jesus.” when it actually did cost something dear. And now I’m challenged by that woman I was every day to say it again and again and again. “Have your way King Jesus, I love you more than my money.” As I give it away. “Have your way King Jesus, I love you more than my body.” As I spend it on people. “Have your way King Jesus, I love you more than my husband.” As I kiss him goodnight. And over them in their cribs with my hands stretched out to one on each side I reach and I bow so that my hands can touch both their hearts, I cast off these sweet little cherubs that at times become my false God, my own children my idol “Have your way King Jesus, I love you more than my babies”

Oh Lord give me strength to continue to say in every moment, in every circumstance , “I love you more, I love you more, I love you more.”  Two truths: God is good and God is in control, no lie.