Sometimes my kids tell me I’m the meanest mom on the planet. Like, the entire planet. With over 7 billion people populating it. I’m the meanest? I’m thinking that’s probably not true. Depending on the time of the month, maybe I reach the top 100,000, but the meanest? I don’t think so, kid.

Here’s what my kids don’t get. They don’t get my love. They don’t get that I can see twenty years down the road and that I really don’t want them to end up as total delinquents. Therefore I tell them “no” or I take their stuff away in efforts to help change the trajectory of their…life. And they straight up hate me for it.

But I’m ok with that. Because I’m learning something really huge through this motherhood gig. I’m learning that my love can’t be measured by their response. Did you get that? My love — the level and intensity of my love — cannot be rightly evaluated by their response to my “loving” actions. Including my loving actions that don’t feel loving.

All this hit me the other day because I had a moment where it bothered me to be called the meanest mom on the planet. And I wanted to shout back, “I PROMISE I’M NOT THE MEANEST MOM! BUT, THERE’S A THING CALLED SELF-FULFILLING PROPHECY, PEOPLE. SO WATCH OUT!” Or maybe I did shout that at them. It’s a blur.

Anyway, it hit me that God loves perfectly. He loves absolutely, scandalously, perfectly. And yet people betray Him, reject Him, deny Him, and curse Him. Continually. He loves me even when He allows things that don’t feel loving. He loves me with vision of my entire life and works in my days for my ultimate good. If I begin with His love, defining His allowances through His love, then peace and hope can’t help but reign in my soul. I sighed deeply at that revelation.

My love can’t be measured by their response.

Sometimes the most loving thing to do for a person is to draw a boundary line. Sometimes the most loving thing to do is to say, “Enough.” Sometimes the most loving thing includes a firm “no.”

We can’t always gauge our love by the response of others. Yes, it’s good and wise to honestly evaluate ourselves in light of what people say to and about us. Because if the whole world is telling us we’re being a jerk then maybe we are. Just sayin’. But people don’t set the plumb line. Jesus does.

 

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father…that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have the strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Ephesians 3:14-19

Sometimes love is easy and fluffy and candy-like. But other times love is firm and unpopular and isolating. The only way to know how to love in the moments of this messy life, is to press deep into the love of the Father praying that He presses His love deep into us. Then, when the world pushes in, His love in all its complexity can’t help but flow out.

Here’s to being the meanest mom on the planet. #meanmomsunite

 
Fill me, Lord…

What have you learned about God’s love that surprised you? How does the love of God encourage you?

Looking for a Bible study that could encourage you when loving others is hard? Check out my study Life Giver.

The post when love is hard (and to fellow “mean moms”) appeared first on Lara Howard.

“Passion isn’t taught. It’s caught.” That was the exclamation point on our pastor’s sermon last Sunday. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

I mean, I’d say that my deepest desire is to be passionate for my God. I can get pretty fired up in a worship service standing next to other believers, hands raised high, telling God to take us wherever He wants us to go. Add a smoke machine and flashing lights and watch the heck out. But put me in my everyday life with my everyday struggles and the everyday frustrations and y’all, I have to wrestle my heart. Constantly.

It’s like my passion for a clean home or obedient kids or quiet or…coffee…can trample my passion for Jesus in 2.8 seconds flat if I’m not on guard. External remedies for the thirst within can tempt my focus. And they’re convincing.

I know there’s “regular” life to live and we can’t always be on that “mountaintop” with Jesus. But I’m certain that my pastor is right about passion. People in our sphere of influence will more quickly do what we do, rather than do what we say. So if we’re going to create a “culture of passion” in our homes for the Lord, then it has to begin in us. Passion for Him isn’t manipulated or faked. It can’t be demanded or bought. It’s the natural overflow of His Spirit not only sealing us, but filling us full.

So what stops His Spirit from filling us full? Well. To put it blunt. Sin. Sin hinders His fullness in our lives. Which is why, if we want to live a passionate-for-Jesus life out of the overflow of Him in us, we have to be willing to bow low — to repent when self rises up — moment by moment.

It’s asking for eyes to see and ears to hear and tenderness to know when unlove or fear or resentment or anger or bitterness or gossip (or a million other expressions of self) rears its ugly head. The flesh trying to stomp out the Spirit’s reign in us. The second we finally see the messy sin that’s being pressed out of our hearts through our circumstance, by His absolute grace, we stop. We repent. We let the blood of Jesus cleanse us from that flesh rebellion. Then we move forward in His mercy, welcoming the fullness of His Spirit.

Then we do it all over again the next time our sin rises up.

Then the next.

By His power, we have to actively war against the sin in our souls. Or else, I promise, the sin will eat us — our joy, our peace, and our hope — alive. And passion for Jesus will become something we only look at from afar.

To me, passion for Jesus in the midst of everyday, looks like a war against my own heart. It looks like outward repentance that affects my emotions and my choices. It looks like choosing to praise and dance even when I feel despair. It looks like taking my thoughts captive to what’s true by verbally remembering what He says in His Word. It looks like a race — running hard and with endurance, eyes set on the finish line.

We’re going to fail. And thankfully the salvation, and even the passion, of others doesn’t actually rest in our hands — God alone raises the dead soul. But everyday, in Him, we get some choices. By His grace, we can choose to commune with our Father. In His strength, we can choose to fight the fight of faith. Because of Jesus, we can create a culture of passion in our homes as we press into Him, one moment then the next.

 
Fill me, Lord…

How would you describe “passion for Jesus” in the everyday of life?
 

The post how to create a culture of passion for Jesus in our homes appeared first on Lara Howard.

I don’t always listen to what God tells me after I’ve asked that question. Sometimes He reveals stuff that I just really don’t want to address at the moment, thank you very much. And in those instances I do something really mature like close my spiritual ears with my spiritual fingers and internally shout, “la-la-la-la-la-la.” And it always turns out stupid.

But other times, by His grace, I don’t resist. I listen and agree with Him. I confess my hardened, proud heart. I usually cry, because I’m a cry baby. And when I actually humble myself, sweet healing and greater soul freedom always follows.

Like the other day.

I’ve talked about my struggles with homeschooling. blah blah blah But one thing about this homeschooling gig is it comes with LOTS of time with my kids. Lots of time. And I love them. Deeply. Dearly. Ferociously. And I know that the time flies. And I know it’s a gift. And I’m not wishing it away.

But I’ve noticed that as these pockets of time remain long and longer, my heart can get a little calloused towards my (wild, sweet, energetic) kids. I can fall into “drill sergeant” mode and miss the soul behind their mistakes…and their successes.

So the other day I asked God to reveal what was going on in my heart. Because a lack of joy or the feeling of hopelessness always and forever reveals something more than circumstance. It reveals something taking up residence in my heart other than my God and His perspective. And He tenderly showed me some…junk.

He showed me some expectations that weren’t from Him. He revealed some inconsistencies that weren’t from Him. He reminded me of His sovereign hand over and around and in my parenting. But the biggest thing He whispered had to do with my thought life towards my kids — some irritable thoughts that were lying deep beneath the surface, coloring my facial expressions and tone and attitude.

And He showed me by giving me a fresh vision of His love towards me. Not by smashing me with a hammer.

I was reading and talking to Him and thanking Him for His promises in Isaiah 43. But when I got to verse 4, I couldn’t go any further because He says, “You are precious in my eyes, honored, and I love you.” The tenderness put a big lump in my throat for a minute. He has tender love for me. And for you. And for my kids.

Motherhood is hard. And kids rarely listen to our instructions the first bazillion times we say them. But I desperately want to remain tender in my love. Not calloused. So I did the only thing I know to do — the thing that initiates His healing. I confessed the hardened places and asked Him to restore. And when my kids woke up that morning I bombarded them with life words, “You are precious in my eyes, honored, and I love you!”

“You are precious in my eyes, honored, and I love you.”
Isaiah 43:4

Healing from heart “issues” takes time. It takes a wrestling of our thoughts. It takes the Spirit of God empowering us from moment to moment. But God is in the business of transforming us from glory to glory so that we will experience the life Jesus died to give us. Yes, we’ll still fail. Alot. We’ll keep entertaining fears and meditating on lies. But the beautiful grace of God keeps beckoning us back into His presence. And in His presence is freedom.

 
Fill me, Lord…

From what has He freed your heart in recent days?
Or what are you wrestling against these days?
 

Oh and psst…I get to tell you about a pretty exciting giveaway Monday in celebration of the Advent study I just released. Stay tuned!

 

The post what’s stealing from you? appeared first on Lara Howard.

Y’all. The most precious thing ever happened to my mama-heart the other night. If you’ve been around these here parts for a while you may have heard me talk about my sweet middle son and how God has used him, and continues to use him, to crucify my flesh. A-hem. Meaning, I question my parenting abilities continually when in his presence. And we’re not even to the teen years yet! Lord, help me.

Anyway, the other night my daughter came running to get me with, “Mom, you have to come hear Bryson in the shower!” I quickly followed her down the hall, stopping at the slightly opened door of the bathroom.

He was preaching to himself, with inflection and passion and conviction. And I crumbled.

“…(mid-sermon) I don’t know how to think that! But GOD! God can think ahead. Like…what if I was one of the disciples, and God knew ahead. And God — Mom always told me that God is bigger — and God knew ahead that Penny (our dog) would bite me. And He knew ahead that I would hit Penny…” I recorded it.

He was preaching God’s omniscient sovereignty to himself — without the big theology terms. And seriously. I crumbled in the hallway. Especially when I heard him say, “Mom always told me…” Mom always told me.

Sometimes I grow weary in this mothering thing. Because I say something 8 gazillion trillion times and it seems like nothing is sinking in. Like I’m that Charlie Brown teacher, “wah wah wah wah wah.” Then moments like this happen. God graces me with a glimpse into my child’s soul where I get to see my boy process the depths of God. And I’m inspired to keep on. I’m inspired to keep on sowing seeds with hope of a one-day harvest.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
(Romans 15:13)

Jesus has something to say to our weariness, “For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” (Galatians 6:8-10)

This passage isn’t exactly talking about motherhood, but the principles apply. We as moms sow seeds of truth — seeds to the Spirit — day in and day out. We sow and sow, often without seeing any harvest. But I believe that God wants to speak straight to our mama-heart, that we not grow weary in “doing good” — in teaching and training in the things of God — but that we press on with hope in Him, one step, then the next step, and then the next.

Weariness is rooted in hopelessness. And hopelessness isn’t our inheritance in Christ. God is our hope. He is the hope for our children. And He is good. So let’s not give up. When weariness presses down today, let’s preach true things to our souls — in due season we will reap the things we’ve sown to the Spirit. In Jesus name.

Oh and awesome side note, two days later, all three of my kids went through believer’s baptism! A long, amazing, unexpected story for another day.

Press on, fellow mama. Press on.

 
Fill me, Lord…

How have you seen hopelessness steal from you?
What truths are you going to think about today when weariness presses down?
 

The post fellow mamas, press on in hope appeared first on Lara Howard.

I was only three days in, people. Three. Days. We (loosely) homeschooled last year for the first time which was…interesting. And hard. And hard. (Yep. Double-hard.) But I headed into this fresh year-two with optimism and a (sometimes fake) smile.

We bought new school supplies. We went shoe shopping. I got a big map rug and big map puzzle and big map beach ball, because that’s what homeschool people do. I was ready — like jaw-clinched, this-thing-aint-taking-me-down-this-time ready.

And three days in, I melted. Crumbled. Collapsed under the weight of three kids at three different levels asking eight million two hundred forty-six thousand three hundred sixteen questions an hour. Crumbled.

Halfway through the third morning I told my children that I was officially done. (They thought I meant for the day, but I really mean for.ever.) And then I locked myself in the bathroom with a crazed-look in my eye going through a mental roladex of every single school in a twenty-mile radius of our home wondering if I could still enroll them for this Fall. Bye freakin’ bye.

Don’t you feel so sorry for me with my first-world problems.

Breathe.

Then I had a moment of clarity from Jesus and sent out a tearful SOS to some dear friends, and to my mother, for prayer. Because I was (hormonally) desperate for some clarification that I was even on the right road with this h@m&$c#00l insanity. And that if I was to continue in this…journey…that God needed to do something really huge in me because I was certain that I would lose my ever-loving mind teaching my precious boy to read. For the love!

Three. Days. In.

My mom told me to bring the kids over so that I could have some time to refocus. She took them to the pool. I sat in her kitchen with Jesus and asked Him to talk to me. And in my spirit, I heard Him say, “Lara, what do you want?”

What do I want?

I knew what He meant. I knew that He meant, “What desires have I put in you in recent months as you have spent time worshipping me?” (Psalm 37:4) So I got a scrap piece of paper and started a list.

“I want them to know you and love you more than they know and love anything else on this planet. And I want to reflect you to them.” Pause. Crickets. Pause. “And I want them to learn this stuff that I’ve bought to teach them. I want them to learn it. But I need help. I need wisdom. I need some space to myself at times! I don’t know what the heck I’m doing and I feel like I’m suffocating.” I can be a little dramatic.

Then, I can’t really trace how it all happened, but He led my thoughts to some practical things we could change with regard to how we schedule our day. He calmed me internally and guided me externally (through YouTube and the blog-o-sphere and friends). He lifted my head. He kept me from running. And the next day, the changes He led me to make actually worked for us! Imagine that.

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. (Jeremiah 29:12-13)

I’m not one of those who always wanted to homeschool. And I’m not one who thinks that homeschooling is the only best choice. In fact, if I’m totally honest, I fight against jealousy as I watch my friends on Instagram wave good-bye to their sweet little people while I bury myself in phonics sounds and stories of explorers in the New World. Which I am totally dumb about. But homeschooling is where God has our family this year. And I believe that He’s led us here for good, holy reasons. And He’s meeting us right in the midst of it with blessings of Himself, now five days in.

Just because something is hard, doesn’t mean we’re on the wrong road. In fact, anything that strips us of self and teaches us greater dependence on Jesus is a gift.

These days, homeschooling is my personal messy place. It’s not earth-shattering or world-altering yet, but it’s where we are. And wherever we find ourselves — whatever the mess, big or small — God can be found. He wants to be found. And whenever we press into Him, He ushers in His peace and joy and love and hope and wisdom for our journey. Amen for grace.

And a word to those who are now worried for me or my children, I promise I’m OK. God is faithfully meeting me. He’s showing me His blessings in this journey. And…I adore my kids.

 
Fill me, Lord…

Want to join me in baring your soul? Share a time when you felt like running away but you pressed into God and He lifted your head.

 

The post for when we want to quit and run away {homeschool} appeared first on Lara Howard.

I got to go out with the girlz last night — thanks to my husband who organized a much needed break for this mama. And you know what we did? We went to see “Mom’s Night Out.” Two enthusiastic thumbs up.

The night couldn’t have come at a better time. Because, well, I’ve been tired. And I’ve had my share of motherhood moments lately.

Like the other day…

If you’ve read my blog for a while, then you may know that this past year marked our first year of homeschooling. And I didn’t come into it gracefully. I pretty much fought it every step of the way because I’m the one who said I would never homeschool. Never ever.

Well, we made it through the first year and I will say that God has faithfully met me, usually in the locked bathroom with little fingers pushing in under the door. I don’t hate homeschooling any more, which is progress. He has even grown my desire for it, which is monumental. But it’s been hard.

Like the other day. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon and we were still not done with what I wanted us to accomplish in our school day. Key word, “I”. Mainly because I’m one person and they are three people. And I’m not a great juggler. And I’m a recovering perfectionist.

So I broke. I put people in time-out because they wouldn’t stop touching each other (“stop touching me!“). And I ran away. Well, not far. I just walked outside to take out the trash and saw the hammock and decided to hide. I cocooned myself in the hammock webbing and looked up at my God through the holes and with quiet tears I told Him, “I can’t do this, Lord. I can’t teach three kids. I can’t give them the kind of education that a school could give them.”

And you know what He said to me as quick as my next breath, “I haven’t called you to give them a school. I’ve called you to give them you.” I almost choked on the thought. And with more tears I spoke healing, confession words, blanketed in His sweet love and grace.

About seven minutes later the kids found me. And they made me smile.

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
Galatians 1:10

“Do all to the glory of God.”
1 Corinthians 10:31

I know that not all of you homeschool. Amen. But if you’re a mom, then you’ve probably felt the pressure of “I can’t do this.” And you know what our sweet Daddy-God says in the kindest, most empowering voice, “I’ve called you to give them you.”

I often get on this soapbox, but as God’s child, He has crafted you and me — purposed us — for the life we live. I believe that with every ounce of my being. He has designed us both for the easy and the pull-your-hair-out hard. For the marriages we have (or don’t have) and the specific kids we raise (for however long He allows us raise them). Nothing enters our lives apart from His pursuing love.

The key when life gets out of whack and we want to hide in the hammock is to remember. Remember why we do what we do. Remember who we are, rooted in Whose we are. Remember that we’re lavished in the purposeful love of our God.

Remember.

Last night when that movie reached the end, the main character’s husband looked at her and said, “Your job (motherhood) is…important.” I lost it. Because something in me forgets. Or maybe that truth just gets suppressed under the infinite loads of laundry.

Motherhood is important. It is. And we’re not designed to do it on our own. We have a God who is willing and ready to meet us right in the middle of the messy days…and even messier houses. He meets us right there, gently pushes back the pieces of hair covering our eyes, and says, “Just give them you.” Just give them you.

 
Fill me, Lord…

What inspires your motherhood these days?
 

The post for when motherhood makes you want to hide appeared first on Lara Howard.

She said, “Remember to sow in hope, Lara. Sow in hope of the harvest.”

I have chewed on those words ever since. Sow in hope. Sow in hope. And I’ve asked God to expand those words in my spirit.

I’m not a farmer. But my grandparents were farmers. And I remember us taking trips to Tennessee for visits. We’d usually arrive in their gravel driveway just as the late afternoon sun was starting to set over the hills. Cows would be grazing in his pastures. His tractor would be resting in the field. And with the smell of my grandmother’s southern cookin’ lingering in the air, we would take a walk through their garden and they would talk about rain levels and hopes of a coming harvest.

I didn’t pay much attention.

But I learned this. I learned that a farmer sows seeds in hope. He cultivates the ground and pushes seeds into the earth. He pulls weeds and feeds and waters. He sweats and prays. But he doesn’t make the seeds grow. Only God can actually bring the harvest.

I (Paul) planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.
1 Corinthians 3:6-7

I’ve thought a lot about what this sowing and reaping looks like in motherhood. And I know that many of us will struggle with the idea of sowing in hope because it means a release of control — or perceived control. It means years of pushing the seeds of God’s word down into the soil of the hearts of our kids — one by one, day in and day out — without always seeing visible signs of growth. But if we don’t sow in hope of a coming harvest then discouragement will press down. And discouragement is not our inheritance in Christ.

It may not be a tomorrow harvest. Or even a next day harvest. But God does have a good plan. He’s writing our story just as much as He’s writing their story. And His loving Father heart can be trusted.

We sow. We water. We sweat. We pray. But we do it all in hope. We do it resting in the God of hope. Because He alone brings the growth. He alone brings the harvest.

 
Fill me, Lord…

How does this “sowing in hope” challenge or encourage you?
 

The post sow in hope {encouragement for moms} appeared first on Lara Howard.

Can I say that I’m “reading” a book if I’m actually “listening” to it through Audible? I think yes.

So I’m “reading” Bonhoeffer — which, for the record, should only take me a total of 22 hours according to the app. Twenty-two. That’s a thick book…I would imagine, if my version was on actual paper.

Anyway, I was listening to, I mean reading, it the other day and it messed me up. Like, I was undone while driving. And I’m not even to the part that tells me of Dietrich’s martyrdom. It was just a story — a description — of his mom.

The author says that Dietrich’s mom was the “soul and spirit of their home.” Soul and spirit.

It doesn’t sound as devastating now when I type it out but it spoke to me. The author goes on to say that Dietrich’s mom read poetry to her kids and sang hymns with them and performed dramas in the basement and set up a carpenter’s area in which the boys could to do their “work” and… lots of other awesome things. Mostly, she was present-active.

And I didn’t feel guilty. As neither should you. I just felt inspired. I mean, I can’t sing well. And we don’t have a basement. But I want to be the “soul and spirit of our home” — not in a weird theologically incorrect way, just in a motherly way. I want my kids to look back to their childhood and see me present, my eyes looking straight into theirs.

I want to inspire them to create and learn and develop into the one that their God designed them to be — unique and beautiful. I want to be a safe place for them to be messy and emotional or even confused about their faith. The soul and spirit of our home.

But the more I think about it, we are the soul and spirit of every minute we take up. Or at least a soul and spirit. The question is, “what do we leave behind?” Because whatever is in us pours out of us. If we’re full of fear and worry, that’s what will come out. If we’re full of anger and bitterness, that’s what will come out. But if we’re full of love, peace, faith, and hope, well…

Our soul and spirit touches every space.

“For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”
~Jesus
Matthew 12:34

It’s not about guilt. Guilt isn’t from our God. Guilt points and jeers and blames. It doesn’t spur on. It crushes.

It’s about inspiration. The inspiration to be fully present, overflowing the love of our God onto those beside us.

Love that gives us a glimpse into the soul of another. Love that drives us to be all-there because the minutes are fleeting, and babies grow to be kids who grow to be…gone. Love that says, “Now is all we have. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow never comes. Be all here.”

Love inspires. Kindness inspires. Being fully present in this moment, and then the next, inspires. You and me watering the soul of another so that it blooms into all its intended splendor.

Ahhh.

That doesn’t mean that the grape juice won’t spill all over the kitchen floor. Or hormones won’t rage. Or someone won’t have a bad attitude for the day/week/year. It just means that as much as depends upon me and you, we can pray, “Lord make me the soul and spirit of this place, this moment, reflecting the beauty of Your tender love.”

It has to be of the overflow — us so full of God that He spills out onto those with whom we share space. Us walking in step with the Spirit of God by reminding our hearts of His Word and promises and strength. Reminding ourselves that people matter more than tasks. Us calling a friend for intercession when we’re at our breaking point. Us choosing to worship God regardless.

The soul and spirit of a place — the soul and spirit who reflects the tender presence of her Lord. May it be said of me.

 
Fill me, Lord…

These days, I would describe my soul and spirit as _______________. (Fill in the blank)

 

The post inspiring motherhood {and everything else} appeared first on Lara Howard.

But as I’ve sat in all my soreness, I’ve prayed for you and for what God would have me say today. Because only He can takes words from a screen and graciously use them to minister to souls.

W o r d s .

I remember when God first told me — not audibly or I would have freaked — what He was leading me to do. I remember writing it down 13 years ago in my little journal with complete conviction, “You’re calling me to speak and write. What You say to me in the closet You want me to declare on the rooftops!” This prodigal girl turned seminary student, graced with forgiveness…and words.

Words hold such power. With them we can lift the downcast and stir up faith in the sullen. We can praise this unbelievably glorious God and pour life into those running the faith race with us. Or, devastatingly, we can poison the soul of another, encourage fear, and drag people in condemnation’s dirt.

W o r d s .

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue,
and those who love it will eat its fruits.”
Proverbs 18:21

I’ve always heard it said that the closer we get to God the more depraved we see ourselves to be. Because He’s so glorious, and in His light we see more and more of our need for grace. And I think that’s an absolutely true assessment.

But I also think that parenting performs a similar task — revealing our need for grace. Lord, help me. We as parents have such deep, innate love for our children and we want them to live the blessed life. So our natural tendency is to try to control what they do because we want to help. And in that control, we have lots of emotion and out of that emotion we say lots of things. Lots of things. I get tired of talking.

But God has me wrestling with my words — in parenting and with everyone else on the planet, for that matter. He has me grappling with what words are truly helpful and what words are a reflection of me trying to control…everything, ultimately out of fear. Another post for another day.

The other morning in my journal I ended with “Lord God, put a guard over my lips!” Because I don’t want my words to be what hinders someone’s freedom. I want my words to bring life.

So as a mom, especially when I want to say things to reiterate poor choices and why those choices were so depraved, God is challenging me to speak life words, grace words.

When my boy does the same thing I’ve asked him not to do for the 83rd time that day after being disciplined 83 times that day — just like I disobey God — I’m tempted to say some…things. And sometimes I do say some “things”. But I’m learning what it means to speak life with the driving hope that life words, dripping with grace, bring the greatest change.

“The fruits of grace are always in the future.”
Tullian Tchividjian in One Way Love

“Son, you are precious — crafted by God. He has plans specifically for you. And He absolutely loves you. And so do I. And in spite of our many weaknesses and many failures, God sent Jesus to take the punishment we deserve. It’s because of Him that you and I are forgiven. It’s because of Him that we don’t have to control everyone and everything on the planet. We can trust Him to be faithful. We can depend on Him to fight our battles and lead the way. So let’s talk about how you can depend on Him when you feel like you want to (hit/kick/destroy/push/fight/mouth-off/etc).”

Words have power. With them we can pour out grace or we can spew condemnation. With them we can demolish fears or we can bind others with chains.

And when we fail to speak words marked with grace and truth — which we will later today — God speaks words marked with grace and truth over us. A priceless gift.

 
Fill me, Lord…

How have you experienced the power of words in your life?
 

Don’t forget to download your free copy of my newest ebook Life Giver! Click here to find out how.
 

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Ugh.

It’s one attitude that can make my face do that “I’m so annoyed” thing. Not that I’m completely innocent. I sometimes jump on the complainers-unite-bandwagon. Usually internally. About more “mature” issues. Ridiculous. But seeing it from the vantage point of parenthood gives me new disdain. A disdain I pray continues to infect my own heart and need for gratitude.

So one thing I’ve done to help destroy this joy-stealing-villain is to start my kids with their own gratitude journals. Following the lead of so many lovely people who beautifully preach the message of “giving thanks” (sidenote: old news, have you read Ann’s book yet?), each of my kids have a new challenge: count your daily gifts, one by one.

I pray they learn to look for God in the dailiness of life. Yes, yucky stuff happens. Yes, we don’t always get what we “want”. Yes, some days will tempt us to crawl back in bed and pretend we’re in some tropical location. Alone. And happy. But “this is the day The Lord made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Choosing continual thanks doesn’t mean we don’t see the mess or the areas of life that could be better. It just means we choose to look more intently at God. If He’s always good (which He is), and nothing can separate us from His love (which it can’t), then there are always evidences of His love and goodness in the dailiness of life. Even in the most unwanted of days.

I could list a hundred verses from the Bible that talk about giving thanks continually…if I didn’t have three children who will be waking up soon looking for me and food. But the truth is that we learn contentment (which is beauty to our soul) through the door of thanksgiving.

We learn contentment through the door of thanksgiving.

Some days it will be harder to do. Some days, near impossible. But expecting to see the good, simply because of Who it is that sits on the throne of the universe, puts us in the position to receive His goodness. And what a devastation it would be to let all of His good gifts fall to the ground unnoticed.

So these little ones in the Williams’ home are choosing thanks. Well, they’re being forced to choose thanks with the hope that eventually continual gratitude will be their bent. And yes, I’m leading the way, journal in hand, noting the things He does to grace every moment with His love.

 
Fill me, Lord…

Challenge: spend some time looking up verses in the Bible that contain the words “thanksgiving” or “thanks”. Then start counting His gifts in your today.
 

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