Characteristics of Gracious Pastors' Wives

October is “Clergy Appreciation Month,” and I am humbled by the kind comments I see directed toward pastors’ families, through Facebook memes and various events online.  Having been in the ministry for almost twenty years, I can assure you that anyone who honors their pastor will be blessed by the Lord and will reap what only God can give.  We pastors’ families are mere humans, full of failings, and we don’t always deserve the kind accolades bestowed on us.  God honors those who give “double honor” to their pastor, not because the pastor is always perfect, but because those lay people are actually choosing to honor God’s order for leadership and the gravity of His calling and His gospel. 

 

But there is a flip side to the concept of honoring clergy.  Proverbs reminds us, “A gracious woman retaineth honor.”  Graciousness can make a pastor’s wife easy to honor.  What are some ways that we as pastor’s wives can demonstrate graciousness to the flocks that God has called us to serve?  Maybe you are a new pastor’s wife.  I hope I can encourage you with some practical ways that God is teaching me to work on graciousness. 

 

1.  Gracious pastor’s wives are thankful. 

 

Whether it’s a pot of chili or a check for $50.00 tucked into a Christmas card, we need to show thankfulness for every kind deed, large or small.  To forget to say thanks is to convey entitlement—not a pretty image any pastor’s wife wants attached to her character. 

 

One of the nicest ways to demonstrate thankfulness is through a very old-fashioned and oft-forgotten tradition that seems to be waning more and more every year:  Thank you notes!  It doesn’t have to be a novel, but just a short, hand-written note means a great deal to people.  When my lazy self resists that idea of writing a thank you note, the Lord often reminds me that the time it takes to write that note is still much shorter than the time it took the other person to bless me. 

 

Growing up, my brothers and I had a great-aunt who was famously eccentric and difficult to get along with.  Amazingly, though, she often showered us with her unusual gifts—food (sometimes out of date . . .), clothes (equally out of date), and hand-crocheted hats and blankets.  She once admitted to my mom that she liked to give us these things because we always sent her thank you notes.  I can imagine her walking around her old house, looking for things she could donate to us just so she could get a card!  If even an eccentric, crusty woman appreciated hand-written notes from second-graders, I bet our church members like them too. 

 

The business world also recognizes the importance of a well-crafted thank you.  Companies who are successful at interpersonal relationships often remind their employees to avoid texting and emailing thank-you’s.  Thank you cards cost $1.00 (for eight!) at the Dollar General.  We can do this!  J 

 

2.  Gracious pastor’s wives are not “scrappy.”   

 

 I love “scrapping.”  I’m the oldest of three kids—and the only sister.  “Scrapping”  could have been a career choice for me.  When my kids scrap, I know where they got that tendency. 

 

In the requirements for pastors, “not a brawler,” and “no striker” show up in the famous list of I Timothy 3.  I can’t imagine God was licensing the pastor’s wife to be known for either of those qualities either.   

 

How can we avoid scrapping?  Here’s a principle to help us as women to remain consistent in our dealings with people:  Godly women are commanded to teach women and to train children.  We don’t have jurisdiction over men (which eliminates needless arguments or the temptation to correct a man in the congregation), and we don’t have the command to fight.  (Remember, ladies--we’re helpmeets, not bulldogs!) Any confrontation we find ourselves in needs to fall under the category of teaching (women and children) or training (younger women or children).  Sarcasm, gossip, angry debates, defensiveness, viciousness, and other fleshly endeavors are eliminated when we keep our mission in sight. 

I am convicted when I read the following excerpt from Rosalind Goforth’s painfully honest autobiography, Climbing as she describes an incident she had while serving in China as a missionary wife: 

 

“One evening as I lay on a couch beside a paper window . . . two Chinese women seated themselves outside the window.  I could not help hearing what they said.  They were, of course, quite unconscious of my closeness to them.  At first they talked with much kindness and sympathy . . . Then began a most amazing and searching dissection . . . of my life and character. . . Incidents with the servants, which I had thought trivial, such as a stern rebuke, a hasty word or gesture, were all given their full value.  During the process of dissection they did, however, find some good points. One said, ‘She speaks our language well and is a zealous preacher.’ The other admitted, ‘And she does love us.  But it’s her impatience, her quick temper!’  Then came what struck me as a blow, ‘If she only would live more as she preaches!’” 

 

Rosaline Goforth humbly shared that story at her own expense, to our benefit, and she went on to be used greatly of the Lord as she surrendered her tongue to Him.  Pastor’s wives:  Gracious women don’t snap and fight. 

 

3.   Gracious pastor’s wives are hard workers.

 

Not workaholics—for the “Marthas” out there who may be tempted to pounce on this point and create another “to do” list for themselves!  Proverbs 31 describes many qualities of the virtuous woman (which ought to describe the pastor’s wife as well).  One of them is that she “riseth also while it is yet night.”  She works hard enough to be able to provide assistance for her servants, the poor, and her own family. 

 

I remember many years ago hearing of a pastor’s wife who admitted to her church friends that she just could not bring herself to get out of bed before 11:00 in the morning.  It was her custom to retire in the early morning hours, and then to rise around lunch time. 

 

The Bible commands congregants to bestow “double honor” upon their pastor, but that can be challenging when laziness has crept into the parsonage.  Most lay people must get up before dawn in order to have time with the Lord and then leave for work by 6:30 or 7:00 each workday.  They sacrifice sleep and energy in order to be faithful to evening services, Saturday workdays, and special meetings.  A gracious pastor’s wife works hard at being a good steward of her time and does not allow laziness to become a stumbling block to those around her. 

 

Am I a Soldier of the Cross?

 

(verse 2)

Must I be carried to the skies

On flowery beds of ease,

While others fought to win the prize,

And sailed through bloody seas? 

 

The hymn writer is not intending to convey here that heaven is obtained by human work or effort.  Ephesians 2:8 – 9 make it clear that salvation is “not by works of righteousness which we have done.”  But the Christian life down here is a battle. In our own generation, we work alongside servants of God whose ministry is fraught with persecution, intense labor, and severe cost.  Have we as Americans succumbed to the faulty thinking that we somehow signed up for a “low cost” ministry? 

 

4.   Gracious pastor’s wives are joyful. 

 

Joyfulness is what makes Christianity believable.  It’s one of the first ways that God’s power is recognizable in our lives.   Many times lay people come to church carrying enormous sorrows, hidden underneath friendly handshakes and smiles.  Inwardly, they are grieving the painful choices of rebellious children, frightening  illnesses, broken marriages, and crushing financial burdens.  And from their seat in the pew, they watch quietly.  Do they see a pastor’s wife who has found the Lord to be her source of joy, even on a day when attendance is down, people have been critical, and the offering is meager?  Or do they see frustration and tension on our faces from a busy week of homeschooling?  Do they hear anger in our voices, when we correct the rowdy kids in the front row?  The joy of the Lord is what strengthens us—and what offers hope to those who come to us with their wide array of puzzling and intimidating trials. 

 

5.  Gracious pastor’s wives love well. 

 

As others have pointed out—“love” is a verb.  It’s easy to say that we love people, but our actions betray our hearts. 

 

Love difficult people.  The book of Matthew calls them “enemies.”  Do my enemies know that I love them?  My dog, Tippy, naturally likes nice people.  As Christians, we have Jesus’ power inside of us to love enemies.  I was once an enemy of God, and Jesus loved me while I was a sinner.

 

Love the unlovely.  One of the most challenging jobs God ever gave me was to help to clean an apartment that had been infested with roaches.  The walls and curtains were blanketed with crawling bugs.  The refrigerator and freezer were lined with dead roaches that had tried to escape the cold temperatures by crawling out of the packaged food.  Even the books were filled with cockroaches, dozens of them pinned between the pages.  The cupboards were sticky with the residue of years of infestation.  In the end, God did a much greater work in my own heart than what I was able to accomplish in that sad apartment.  He exposed how repulsed I was by the unlovely; how very selfish and self-righteous I was when I was allowed to compare myself to the dweller of that apartment.  He showed me how quickly I could resent that person for letting things get that bad, and how much I thought I deserved to be thanked for my efforts.  My heart was even uglier than the walls of cockroaches I had just tried to clean. 

 

Love the forgotten.  I am still touched by a photograph I once saw of Elisabeth Elliot, the missionary to Ecuador whose husband was murdered by savages in 1956.  Before flying back to the United States, Elisabeth stopped at a remote village to inform the Christians there that her husband had gone to heaven.  A Life Magazine photographer caught an image of Elisabeth sadly saying goodbye from her car, while the Indian women openly wept and crowded around the window.  They were a poor, forgotten, woebegone little band—missing teeth and dressed in rags, hair hanging unkempt around their lonely faces.  Forgotten by the rest of the world, they were loved by the Elliots, and Jim Elliot’s death grieved them sorely.  That photograph speaks volumes to me.  When I go to heaven, I want to be missed by the forgotten people. 

 

 

The Apostle Paul said, “And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.”   Amen! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our Neglected Weapon

Darkness steals across the landscape, creating a black velvet curtain between the forest and the lighted kitchen where a family sits around a dinner table.  Two parents and their tiny children enjoy each other’s company on a clear night, while their laughter bounces outside in muted yet recognizable tones to the visitor who waits at the edge of the woods, watching carefully for any signs of life that might venture outside the protection of those walls and doors.  Flimsy screens serve as the only physical barrier to guard the little family from the disaster waiting to pounce out from the brush.  But lions are patient . . . 

 

We have an enemy.  While most of us spend very little time thinking about him, he thinks about us every day.  Like a “roaring lion, he walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”  ( I Peter 5:8)  He has menu choices.  Not everyone makes suitable devouring.  Watching his prey carefully, he will pick wisely.  His time will not be spent in vain. 

 

Peter, whose words are quoted here, knew about this lion.  As a young disciple of Christ, he once allowed this enemy to speak through him.  Jesus “turned, and said unto Peter, Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offense unto me:  for thou savorest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men.”  Later, the lion’s roar was heard when Peter slept through his final prayer meeting with Jesus, hours before the crucifixion.  Is it any wonder Peter denied Christ, even swearing for emphasis at the inquisitive little maid, just hours after his lost opportunity to pray in the garden was spent sleeping? 

The very first adjective used in the Bible for our enemy is “subtil” (or subtle, in our current usage).  He is a master of deceit, a quiet enemy, whose mission is rarely discovered before there has been loss, whose roar is rarely heard until there has been disaster. 

 

The biggest problem today among Christians is not that we don’t believe in heaven, or hell, or God.  We believe.  Our problem is that, for all practical purposes, we have stopped believing there is an enemy.  The church sleeps, and a lion rocks the cradle. 

 

We have a weapon against this enemy, but many families and churches laid down arms years ago.  After all—if there is no enemy, why build up an arsenal?  What trouble it is to sacrifice for a disaster that will never strike!  Like buying flood insurance at the top of Mt. Everest, or building to hurricane code in Illinois—such a waste. 

 

And so mid-week prayer meetings shrink, until churches eventually cancel them completely.  Families stop praying together.  Couples spend more time online than on their knees.  Little by little, even the flimsiest of window coverings fall apart, until the reach of that lion to the precious family inside is no longer barred even by small strips of cheap wire.  Curtains flutter outside the window casings, announcing to the enemy that at last, his time has come.  His patience has paid off.  He will eat tonight.   

 

Someone has said, “A day begun without prayer is a boast against God.”  How many days have we begun with that boast—haughty little Christians we, shaking our tiny fist at our Creator as our enemy chuckles from the forest.  We can do it ourselves!  The arm of flesh is strong!  We don’t need God. 

 

The Christian life spent without prayer is practical humanism.  We say we believe in a God Who can part waters and spin planets, but we raise our children without His supernatural help.  We claim to trust in a God Who splashed a wet altar with consuming fire; Who made time stand still; Who stood water on end—but we operate our churches without His wisdom and power.  How much of our Christian lives is spent in the power of the flesh, toiling miserably against the forces of evil without ever asking for God’s blessing, without seeking His pleasure, and without even noticing He was missing.   We have programs, concerts, and activities; applause and man’s approval; technology and wealth—but no God, no power, no protection. 

 

Overconfidence may be the chiefest weapon of our enemy.  Without lifting a finger, he robs us of our desire to pray, to seek fellowship with other Christians, and to know the God we claim to serve.  Comfort has become our foe.  Prayer is work, and it runs counter to our craving for pleasure, self-congratulation, and activity. 

 

You are the Christian you choose to be.  Choose, by the power of God, to be a praying Christian.  You have an enemy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enjoying Our Children

In my parents’ photo album from 1974 is a fading picture  of my mother holding my baby brother and me.  I think it must have been Brian’s first birthday, and whoever took the picture (probably my dad) caught Mom in the middle of laughing.  It was always my favorite picture as I was growing up.  Most of our other pictures were actually taken by Mom, so she doesn’t make very many cameo appearances into our albums.  And even then, like most families, we tended to stop and smile for the camera instead of catching people in the middle of laughing at a funny event. 

 

My early reaction to that picture teaches me how much my kids long to be enjoyed.  I loved seeing my mom having so much fun with us.   Of all the responsibilities that we have with our children, and all of the life-lessons we find ourselves working on while the precious years seem to grow wings and fly away, one of the most important and most overlooked is the value of enjoying our children.  Kids yearn to be enjoyed.  They like to be around people who seem to appreciate their personalities and funny little quirks, people who aren’t constantly embarrassed when they act like normal children.  As our children grow older, they will someday find their way back to the people who actually liked them.  Clean carpets, hot dinners, and signed homework papers tell only part of the story of our parenting.  Do you really like your kids?  Do you enjoy their company?  And do they know it?

 

In the busy pace of our lives, many times this can seem like an option rather than a mandate.  We work so hard to keep food on the table, insurance bills paid, and braces on teeth.  We need to hurry up and get the yard done before company comes, and then we have projects around the house before the weather turns cold.  Before we know it, the seasons have clipped by, each with their own demands, and our children grow up without that picture in their mind of a mom laughing in a bear hug with the baby on her lap and a little girl admiring her smile.  Is there any way to capture the moments more carefully, so that our children feel cherished? 

 

1.  Be deliberate with gifts. 

 

It is easy to shower our children with things, until their shelves and closets are overflowing with “stuff” that will soon finds its way into a garage sale or a Goodwill donation box. 

 

Several years ago, we made a decision to give our kids the option of having an activity with us rather than tangible gifts for their birthday.  Since they had already received gifts for their birthday up until that point and might be looking forward to opening presents, we left it optional. But most of our kids have happily chosen activities over gifts. 

 

What we discovered was that we often needed that extra incentive to make the commitment of time and money for creative family adventures.  We are busy—often maddeningly so.  Jason works a regular bus route, in addition to pastoring a small church.  During the school year, it is not uncommon for him to work 70 hours a week of bus and ministry work.  Truthfully, we do not have the time or money for trips to the zoo, Cardinals games, archery ranges, the Science Center, or an all-day adventure on an eight-man raft down the Merrimac.  But the memories we have made--when we did things we didn’t have time for and found ways to sacrifice and pay for them!  Whatever toys we would have bought our kids five years ago would probably be in a Salvation Army by now, but instead we have the bond of shared memories together.

 

2. Catch time alone with your kids in small segments. 

 

Before we had any children, we used to talk about the fun things we would do with our kids.  I remember envisioning “daddy dates” and time alone with our children, just enjoying them.  Within a few short years, we were having new babies almost every other year!  Our exhaustion and our schedule made those dreams seem unrealistic.  Every trip to the store had an urgent purpose, and free time was usually spent catching a coveted rest until the baby woke up for a feeding.  Magazine articles about mothers who took their daughters on weekends away to a hotel, or stories about father-son camping excursions seemed frustratingly out of our reach. 

It was at that season of our lives that we invented what seemed ridiculously simple.  It was desperate attempt at catching minutes with our kids alone.  We named it “Ten Minutes,” and the simplistic name is self-explanatory.  Our older children were all at elementary age then, and they were learning how to wash the dishes. Each day of the school week, one of the older five was assigned to help with dishes.  Whoever was on dishes duty was privileged to get ten minutes of staying up later than the other kids and playing any game or reading any book they wanted with Dad and Mom.  We still laugh about all the times Jessica made us put together her Strawberry Shortcake puzzle—week, after week, after week.  Stories, Uno, Stratego, Junior Monopoly—they all made their way into our “Ten Minutes” arsenal.  As the kids grew, the ten minutes seemed to morph into 20 and 30.  But by then we didn’t care, because we realized how quickly time was fleeting. 

 

As the kids got older, “Ten Minutes” faded away.  They started staying up as late as we did (sometimes later), and the privilege of playing “Sorry!” at 8:30 had lost some of its luster.  Now we are working to recreate it with our younger boys.   When else do you play darts with your eleven-year-old?  There is always something that seems more important.  And suddenly, the kids are all grown up, and we realize that there really was nothing more important on those nights than catching the minutes—even just ten of them--before they slipped by.   

 

3.  Eat together as a family.

 

Every family schedule is different, and the Lord will have to show you when and how often to make this happen.  But sitting around a table fellowshipping is golden.  The dinner hour is often a “debriefing.”  Life throws some pretty crazy curveballs at us.  Our kids need a place to tell their stories and to gain perspective on things they have seen, heard, and felt throughout the day.  Some days it just feels better to sit and laugh about the events that transpired.  Meal times teach our children how to behave at a dinner table and how to be thankful for everything they are given.  Since I lean pretty heavily on my “dishes chart,” we often ask whoever is doing dishes that night to also help with preparing supper.  Additionally, the person who does Friday dishes has a special treat:  That’s the only night we make dessert, and they get to choose it, prepare it, and (of course) lick out the bowl.  “Friday dishes” is a coveted position around here! 

 

4.  Let your kids participate in family devotions. 

 

Whatever name you choose for your family Bible time, be sure that it’s not just a Lecture Series where the parents do all the talking.  Jason usually reads the Bible, and then he asks our kids to take turns reading a short article or chapter about missions.  We also keep a prayer list of names of our family, church members, and ministries to pray for regularly.  Jason will often assign a prayer request for each person to remember.  Josh always asks to pray for his favorite cousin—although we have had to cut our prayer time short a few times because everyone was laughing about whatever Josh decided to pray.  (Josh should probably have to pray last from now on!)

 

The other great benefit of having a family worship hour is that it’s a great opportunity to teach our kids how to think.  Many kids growing up in Christian homes know what to think, but not how.  Where does the Bible specifically say that it’s wrong to use cursing and profanity?  Why should Christians marry other Christians?  How do you know what God wants you to do someday with your life?  Examining social issues and current events from a Biblical perspective is good for our kids, too.  Does the Bible have anything to say about what happened in Ferguson, Missouri last week?  What if you were a Christian living in Syria right now, and you were threatened with your life for not converting to Islam?  Family conversations about the Bible remind our children that the Bible isn’t just an old Book; it’s a very relevant, current, and living Book.    

 

5.  Save time for relationships by encouraging independence. 

 

One of the reasons we moms sometimes do not have much time to be with our kids is that we are simply doing too much for them.  There are several important benefits to encouraging independence in our children.

 

First, it teaches children to value the work of others.  People who have not had to work hard for themselves rarely appreciate the work that others do for them.  It seems that it is often the hardest working people I know who are quick to say, “I don’t want to take much of your time on the phone today,” or who stop to thank me for some effort.  They value work because they know the cost personally. 

 

Secondly, independence teaches personal responsibility.   About a year ago, I came to the conclusion that although laundry is time-consuming, it really is not hard.  Therefore, it is not unreasonable to ask a ten-year-old (or his older siblings) to do laundry.  And that day, our kids inherited the job of doing their own laundry.  To be honest, I don’t really think about my kids’ laundry any more.  Every few days, I notice someone lugging their laundry bag over to the washer to wash their clothes, but it’s not my job any more.  I don’t keep track of it.  In fact, when we went to my parents’ house this summer and spent four days with my family (23 people under one roof!), a pair of unclaimed boys’ underwear showed up in the bathroom.  Someone asked if it belonged to one of my boys, but I said I had not seen it before.  Turns out, it was ours!  It had come in a bag of hand-me-downs along the way, and because I couldn’t remember ever washing it, I didn’t recognize it! 

 

My kids will tell you that laundry is not that much work when it’s just one load.  They pay closer attention to stains, and they do not change clothes every ten minutes like they used to!  J   Are you wearing yourself out working for your kids? 

 

Thirdly, independence is empowering.  Raising children with unnecessary dependence on their parents is selfish.  We mothers can find great fulfillment in meeting our children’s every need, but when our fulfillment strangles our children’s ability to grow, learn, and achieve, then we are living for ourselves.  Whether we like to admit it or not, our children are secretly much more interested in showing us what they can do than hearing about all the things that we can do for them.  Have you ever heard an adult bragging to a group of kids about how terrific they were (twenty-five years ago) at sports, music, school, or some other achievement?  The kids listen with a bored and barely tolerant expression.  All they want to do is get ahold of that football and see if they can throw it to the other side of the yard too.  We need to use our strengths to strengthen the ones coming behind us, not to clutch our trophies and force ourselves back into the limelight. 

 

6.  Beware of the Time Snatchers. 

 

I confess that I have never watched “Revenge of the Body Snatchers,” but I have had way too much experience with Time Snatchers.  Here’s the problem with Time Snatchers:  When someone or something steals my time, they are often stealing from my children. 

 

Sometimes people just don’t realize how much they are asking.  If we are less than honest about our time constraints or the promises we have made to our children, we are enabling someone else to encroach on time that rightfully belongs to our kids.  It’s easy to fall into the trap of trying to please other people.  But remember:  When we give to others more than the Lord has asked us to give, we often are borrowing from our children’s Time Account.  And it’s very, very hard to pay that account back. 

 

Sometimes in ministry, there is the added temptation to give away our family time too freely because we are consumed with the needs of others.  We are deceived into thinking that we can afford to ignore our family’s needs while helping others.  I think most pastors’ families are much like ours—constantly surrounded by pressing needs.  It is easy for people who are not involved in ministry to underestimate how much their pastor is doing.  They want his attention, or his family’s attention, not realizing how crunched a pastor is for time and rest.  Those who serve faithfully alongside the pastor don’t have this false expectation.  They see him on Wednesday evening, at fellowships, and in other areas of service.  But for those who don’t understand this dilemma, sometimes we just have to be honest and gently say no. 

 

But it’s not just people, is it?  “Time Snatchers” can be things—hobbies, books, talking on the phone, Facebook, Pinterest, and shopping.  It’s hard to enjoy our children when we allow ourselves to feel distracted all the time.  Parenting takes energy and creativity.

I remember when Jonathan was a preschooler, playing in the backyard.  He was always coming to ask me to play with him.  He wanted to show me his castle in the sandbox, or a toad, or a how fast he could run.  It seemed that every day I was saying, “Just a minute.  Let me get this done first.”  And then the time would fast-forward, while I washed dishes, changed diapers, and sorted laundry.  One day as I gave Jonathan my usual answer, the Lord pricked my heart with a most painful reminder, “Someday he will stop asking.”  

 

And yours will too.  Enjoy them now.  Go out to the sandbox.  Laugh at their funny stories.  Make a fort, and eat dry cereal under the kitchen table.  Put down your phone, turn off the TV, and get off Facebook.  Don’t get a babysitter every time you go to the grocery store.  Let them stir the bowl, and set out the napkins, and push the button that makes the dryer start.  Let them into your life. 

 

A visiting evangelist once advised me, as my 6-year-old son followed him around all week chattering non-stop, “Listen to them now, and they will listen to you later.”  Great advice. 

Teaching Our Kids Standards

I remember an argument I had with my best friend in elementary school.  Her dad had said that lightning came from the ground, and I was pretty sure my dad said it came from the sky.  On and on we argued the afternoon away.  Her dad was smarter because he was an engineer for Goodyear.  Actually, my dad was smarter because he was an engineer for the City of Akron.  Her dad was smarter because he was older.  But that meant my dad was smarter because he would likely live longer.  A few years ago, while teaching 4^th grade homeschool, that silly argument came back out of nowhere when my kids and I studied lightning.  Turns out, my haughty little 8-year-old self had a few more things to learn about lightning:  Both arguments were partially right.   One more wasted afternoon from 1979. 

 

Sometimes it’s not about lightning.  There are many important issues of right and wrong that really do matter beyond winning an immediate debate—issues of discernment that I want to pass on to my children, and issues where not everyone can be right.  While any eight-year-old can argue about the source of lightning (especially if her dad is an engineer . . .), just what is the right attitude I need for teaching my children standards of right and wrong?   

 

How can I use legitimate methods for teaching holiness instead of making my standards sound like a meaningless argument about lightning, where everyone is just telling half of the story in order to win the debate? 

 

1.  Teach charitably. 

 

“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass . . .”

 

Remember “The Gong Show”?  Even modern entertainers recognized the humiliation of  “sounding brass.” It just sounds foolish.  I wonder how many times I have become my own “gong show” by speaking the truth “with the tongues of angels” but lacking genuine love toward my audience!  God loves the people who disagree with me.  The sooner I catch up and love them too, the happier we all will be. 

 

This week at Goodwill, my kids and I stood in line behind a couple of individuals who were deliberately advertising a behavior that runs contrary to the Bible.  Jesus died for those people.  My children and I do not have the right to make fun of them or mimic them uncharitably.  Although I cannot compromise the truth, those individuals still need to see the love of Jesus in every one of my interactions with them.  

 

2.  Teach humbly.

 

“Only by pride cometh contention.” 

 

Those of us who were wired with the “Combat Code” have to face something:  Contentious disagreements are always about pride.  That little word “only” is telling.  A humble person can convey spiritual truth in a gracious way that edifies the listener instead of igniting him.  We squander the truth when we use it as a weapon rather than an instrument of love.  I am afraid I sometimes relate more to Moses when he murdered the Egyptian than when he was “slow of speech” so many years later.  

 

Do I teach my kids standards with a combative attitude, condemning others who are “on the outside,” or arguing so passionately with my family that my own children cannot be honest about their own struggles with certain rules and standards?  Do I bully weaker people into complying with my standards instead of patiently teaching them?  Intimidation is not a legitimate form of discipleship.

 

3.  Teach compassionately.

 

Our attitude toward others hinges on this summarizing statement of Romans 14:  “Destroy not thy brother with meat, for whom Christ died.” 

 

One of the purposes for standards is compassion.  If a weaker person is offended (literally “caused to stumble into sin”) because of something I am doing, I need to stop.  Not because that behavior is sinful (and it might not be!), but because someone else’s walk with the Lord matters more than whatever “rights” I am protecting.  Compassion doesn’t just lecture the weaker brother to stop sinning.  It lends a hand. 

 

If I have a friend who is trying to overcome a gripping addiction to alcohol, suddenly my awareness of alcohol is heightened.  Do she and I really need to cut through the beer garden at the fair on our way to the tractor pull?  Do we want to lunch at Pizza Hut (my favorite pizza place!)—or should we just do a family restaurant, where there aren’t bottles of beer plunked down on the table next to us? What was once innocent for me has now become off-limits when I am with her, because I am accepting the confines of my friend’s weakness. 

 

Lest anyone is tempted to cry “legalism,” let’s make an important distinction:  Legalism puts rules before people.  Compassion imposes rules on self because of people.   The label “ . . . for whom Christ died” is a price tag.  This person has value that is much greater than meat—or restaurants, or clothes, or DVD’s, or whatever rights we are tempted to hang onto.  We need to teach our kids that standards aren’t just about us.  The weaker Christian matters too.

 

 

4.  Teach Biblically.

Someone else has wisely observed that the Bible is a collection of both principles and rules.  So where does the Bible say, “Thou shalt not take heroin”?  Good question!  It’s found in the same place where the Bible says not to drive off a cliff going 120 mph, or not to shoot a police officer.  It’s in the principles.  If the Bible contained only rules, it would be longer than the Affordable Healthcare Act—and equally unread. 

 

Our fundamental job as moms is to teach our children the principles in the Bible.  Secondarily, we find methods for practicing those principles.  When we focus entirely on the methods and miss the principles, it’s usually only a matter of time before the methods are lost as well.  Let me illustrate in a personal way: 

 

As most of you know, our family is quite conservative in our dress.  It’s a choice we have made, and since today’s post isn’t about dress, I won’t spend too much time here explaining our dress standards.  But to be honest with you, it can be easy for us to focus on the “methods” of achieving godly dress and to entirely miss the principle at stake:  raising up modest, godly, feminine girls!  Letting our daughters show up for church in sloppy tee-shirts, matched up with ill-fitting culottes or over-washed, under-sized skirts, is not what I Peter 3 is talking about!  The principle has been buried under the method. 

 

Any area of separation that we teach our children—whether it’s about music, relationships, activities, substances, etc.—needs to be pointed back to its founding principle in every method we practice.  Otherwise we end up with strange dichotomies in our standards:  Parents who eschew strong drink but rely on sleeping pills for the exact same effects; and homeschoolers who don’t have any “bad” friends but follow Kardashians and rock stars on their Twitter feed.  Leaning exclusively on methods while ignoring Biblical principles is a recipe for scorning and hypocrisy. 

 

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Our kids were created for Christ’s glory.  Raising up holy kids is all about delivering back to God the precious gifts He entrusted us, in a package He can use for His praise. 

 

“ . .  not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved.”  (I Corinthians 10:33)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To My Younger Self

My year of reflection has begun.  We now have two seniors in high school (twins), and it seems that every day the last 17 and a half years of my life flash past me.  As I watch Jonathan and Jessica getting ready for the commencement of their adult years—signing up for their final year of homeschool with classes like Physics and Government, preparing for their SAT and ACT, and beginning to apply for college and consider their majors, I can’t help but review the last two decades with wonderment at how quickly it went by as well as hope that we have indeed done what God commissioned us to do on that chilly fall day, when we rode gingerly home for the first time and watched for the whole ride to make sure those two little heads were still upright and secure in their backwards-facing car seats.  I now have photo albums and plastic totes bulging with the memories that have filled up our days since that significant moment in 1996.   

           

This review process inevitably exposes the influences that shaped this past season of our lives—many good, some not so good, all of them significant.   A step back from my memory bank allows me to see a trend—a sort of graph that shows my tendency to pull back and forth, like a pendulum, from permissive to harsh, and then back again.  If I could go back to that car ride in 1996 and tell my younger self a word or two . . . it would be about that pendulum.  Beware the pendulum. 

 

Beware of parenting by “books” rather than by “The Book.”  Measure new methods against Scripture.  I remember reading a book once by an author who was later accused of formulating his ideas and then “baptizing them with Scripture.”  No one has the right to take Scripture out of context, no matter how noble their goal may be.  The trend of parenting books in the 1990’s tended to encourage a sort of antagonistic relationship between parent and child, as though our only mission this side of heaven was to establish authority and to win at any cost.  Current trends are reacting to this and seem to be angled toward more permissive, child-led parenting—which is just as unhealthy and dangerous.  Get the Book. 

 

Beware of the pressures that stretch a family apart.  Those early years are priceless.  Be together.  Beware of ministries, friends, jobs, and hobbies that constantly pull you apart as a family.   Your kids will not naturally become just like you.  They will naturally become like those they are with the most.   Fill up those memory banks and give your kids lots of reasons to believe they are loved.   

 

Beware of spoiling.  You love your child more than anyone else does, so don’t leave the difficult work of character refinement up to the bus driver, the principal, or the manager at Moto Mart.  Spoiled children have harder lives than strong children because they are not as prepared for the realities of life.  The Bible offers this singular criticism of King David’s parenting of Absalom:  “And his father had not displeased him at any time in saying, Why hast thou done so?”  (I Kings 1:6).   Absalom died by getting stabbed with lethal darts while hanging by his hair from a tree.  Whatever small displeasure David had spared Absalom by not disturbing him with accountability certainly came back with manifold vengeance! 

 

And finally, beware of pride.  We are not perfect parents.  Beware of defensiveness that doesn’t want to hear what anyone else sees us doing wrong.  Beware of arrogance that can’t apologize to a child for an unjust accusation or a harsh response.  Beware of conceit that wants a child to meet outward expectations and earn public praise rather than focusing on the “hidden man of the heart.” 

 

Young moms,  I know you get tired of hearing us glibly tell you to “enjoy every second” with your little one, as you wipe formula off your sweater and wearily brace yourself for another long night of colic.  Maybe don’t enjoy those difficult times.  But appreciate them.   Someday you will stumble across those tiny pink snuggly pajamas—the ones with the little feet and the formula stain on the front, and you will be thankful that you didn’t give in to the frustration and weariness of those long nights.  You will be glad that you stopped for a second kiss goodnight when she finally drifted asleep, just as the sun was starting to thin the darkness, and that you let your eyes snap a picture of  that still form one more time before you went to bed. 

 

Because when you wake up, she will be grown.  I know.