A sliver of solace

The one constant thing about having three kids is how constantly I get my butt kicked. Transition from zero to one child was by far the hardest. But transition from two to three has been much harder than the transition from one to two. But seriously, I have friends who have six children and thriving. So really, I need to stop blabbering.

Quietness is a gift.

Slivers of solace tucked between other louder, distracting things. A little goes a long way. Like the Belgian dark chocolate truffle I just dropped into my hot cup of coffee. There, it rests. Quiet and wonderful. Like my Hanan. The Lord's grace and mercy, tucked between his faithfulness (Emeth) and steadfast love (Khesed).

A lot of speculations are made about the middle child. But I hope my Hanan grows to know how much he is loved and cherished.

I love his quirky ways.

How he plays with his legos. Here he is making a 10. He has since figured out ways to make 11 and 12.

How he is so keen on making sure I am happy. "Are you happy? Let me kiss you. Are you happy now?"

How he lays claims on anything medium-sized and the number two. Because he is the middle child.

For lunch today, he wanted me to cut his pizza into "medium" bites. If he wants them bigger, he would say "bigger medium." If he wants them smaller, he would say, "smaller medium." But they are all medium. Because he is medium.

He ran to me one morning, laughing and shouting, "Mommy!!! I have two problems!!! I don't have one problem or three problems. I have two problems."

How he doesn't know what the word "problem" means.

How he can't seem to talk as fast or as much as his big brother. With a sad face, he said, "I can't talk. I need new batteries."

How he named his "orange thing" Character. As in, "Character! Character! Where are you?"

How he asks for "bread with fig jam and mascarpone" for breakfast. How he loves fig macaroons.

How he says I love you. "I nove you a-not."

And how he loves chocolate. "I nove brownies a-not. Not black-nies, not red-nies, just brownies."

The way honey is to Winnie the Pooh

I am recently re-learning how to praise God. Back to the basics.

It all started when my sister Jean explained to me how praise is different from thanksgiving (thanks, Xin!). Such a curious thought.

Praise is an exercise of adoring, enjoying, and declaring the characters of God.

So, if I am adoring honey, I would say, "Hmmmm.... YUM! Honey, you are sticky and sweet. You shine like liquid amber, a luxury I can afford. You are pleasant and smooth on my tongue. You are better than sugar in my tea. You are not merely sweet, your flavor complex and floral. You possess healing power for my aching throat."

Something like that.

Thanksgiving, on the other hand, is an exercise of giving thanks for our experiences of God. What we have seen, heard, and tasted. We give thanks for the spoonfuls of  honey, so to speak. "Thank you, honey, for the sweetness you bring to my cups of tea. Thank you for soothing my throat, and for the magic you make with lemon juice."

Adoration and thanksgiving have some overlap, to be sure, but they are distinct.

Here are some things I learned:

1. In my prayers, I give thanks a lot more than I praise. Giving thanks, while necessary and good, is not enough. Praise is motivated by the wonderfulness of the Lord, while thanksgiving is motivated by the wonderfulness that I have received and perceived. While it is good to be thankful for the spoonfuls of honey, but what of days when there is no honey to be had?

2. I then realized, I don't praise God very much. My praises to God are often embedded in the songs I sing, or the psalms I read. In other words, I do not intentionally praise God. Rarely do I break out in thoughtful, prolonged meditation about the wonderfulness of the Lord. Rarely do I stop and allow my soul to be moved by the character and person of God.

3. I must learn to praise the Lord, especially when I don't feel like it. Because my heart is crooked and deceitful, I am tempted to make my thanksgiving, my petitions, and even my repentance to be about me, for me, and because of me. Adoring him would turn my eyes to the Lord, to help me think about his faithfulness and steadfast love.

4. Praising the Lord reorients my heart, in order that my thanksgiving, petitions, and repentance would be about the Lord, for the Lord, and because of the Lord.

5. Praising God feels a little awkward at first. It feels weird to tell God things about himself that he already knows. Then again, he already knows all of my prayers even before I think to pray them. I am learning to praise the way my one-year-old is learning to stand — by doing it, with a lot of help (listening to Hans' prayers), and falling a lot.

Begin by recognizing something incomparable about God. His steadfast love and his faithfulness, for example. Or his patience and mercy, perhaps. Or the way he forgives. Allow ourselves to be moved by these thoughts. Out of this adoration, renew our allegiance and devotion to this God. Remembering and reciting scripture helps a lot.

6. Praise is a great offense and defense against my tendency to worry and freak out. I am no football fan (I know, what a great way to win the hearts of you who love football). But I do remember Hans saying that a good defense is the best offense. Or, was it a good offense is the best defense? Anyway, I clearly have no idea what I am talking about.

7. Praising God is a command. It is therefore our duty. Like all of God's commands, they are the way of grace. Praise is to our souls the way bread is to the famished, water to the thirsty, freedom to the slaves, honey to Winnie the Pooh.

Listen with me the praises of Habakkuk,

Though the fig tree should not blossom,

nor fruit be on the vines,

the produce of the olive fail

and the fields yield no food,

the flock be cut off from the fold

and there be no herd in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord;

I will take joy in the God of my salvation.

God, the Lord, is my strength;

he makes my feet like the deer's;

he makes me tread on my high places.

 (Habakkuk 3:17-19)

Sometimes, boring can be good

As I was cleaning out one of my thumb drives, I stumbled across a poem that I wrote to Hans nearly five years ago. I have no recollection of it, until now. It is so incredibly nerdy and so thoroughly boring that I must share it.

I think I was trying to be funny.
But I wasn't
funny.

Truth be told, I can't even understand most of it.

No, seriously.

This post is simply to demonstrate that marriage is not always exciting. It can sometimes be, in fact, quite boring. And with three little boys running around the the house, boring is good. An uneventful day is a good day. Putting people to sleep is good, as well.

So yeah.
Here is to more boring, sleepy days ahead.

A Literary Study of Poetic Devices in a Conceptual Metaphor

Marriage,
A mystery,
lovely and hidden
in public squares and enclosed places,
a thing of many kinds and lengths,
created work of
selection and combination,
an interplay of
parallels growing into one,
an asymmetrical reciprocity,
a giving and returning of
pairs juxtaposed,
equivalents yet contrasts,
alike yet unlike,
paradigmatic yet syntagmatic,
multiplying fruits
in silence and togetherness,
full in emptiness,
a hendiadys,
an oxymoron,
two making a third,
repeating and echoing,
enlightening and completing
one another’s ellipses,
fulfilling one another’s gaps
in moments of enjambment,
overflowing and interrupting
storms and rage,
deep waters overcome waves
when understood and interpreted
with gentleness and reverence
while hoping and believing
in toil and rest,
lament and praise,
fear and awe,
exposing the Beautiful
Marriage.

For Hans,
my poem and poet
March 17, 2009

Be careful little eyes what you see

While I was spewing instructions to the boys today, I heard myself say, "I don't care about how many toys are on the floor, I care about your attitude and whether you are working with cheerful hearts." My own words hit me like a fat piece of humble pie, right on the face. "I am not looking at the toys on the floor, darling, I am looking at you."

The boys were discouraged that despite their effort, toys and messes kept appearing on the floor (how this happens we will never know). I knew how they felt. I was discouraged about the six loads of laundry that have yet to be folded, my preparation for the upcoming conference continued to be delayed, the schedule was not kept, baths were not given, diapers were not changed, the car needed to be fixed, dinner still needed to be made.

But the Lord was not looking at the mess, he was looking at me.

There is sometimes a great temptation to make our prayer and worship to be about us.

Lord, look at all that I am doing for you! Look at all that I am sacrificing! Wasn't that a good prayer? Look at all the good things I am offering!

But the Lord is not looking at my sacrifices, he is looking at me.

Obedience is better than sacrifice. Obedience requires faith. Faith that seeks understanding, faith that may not yet fully understand.

Hans and I hardly got a wink of sleep last night. The boys took turns crying throughout the night for different reasons, and before I knew it, the sun was up. At breakfast, I was ready to give up. I felt perfectly justified to be perfectly unpleasant and unkind. My less favorable option was that I could carry on and fulfill my duties—cheerfully. But I didn't want to be cheerful. From where I stood, I couldn't see where joy and energy and motivation would come from.

The Lord wanted me to trust him, not because I know how everything would turn out, but because he is faithful and he is mighty—to work in my heart, to work in the children's hearts, to work in and through the circumstances of our lives for his glory.

The Lord is not looking at the mess, he is looking at me.

Is my heart seeking after him and his purposes? Am I carrying out my tasks with a cheerful, non-freaking-out attitude? Am I working for his glory, or for my own glory? Am I working to serve others or to serve myself?

Instead of looking at the mess, I need to look to the Lord.
I need to look to the Lord, because they are watching me.
I need to look to the Lord, so they would look to him with me.

The most joyful of all pains

Some of the most spectacular things in life are also some of the least expected.

Like a mother's pleasure in her children.

The first step taken, the first word spoken, first book read from cover to cover. And perhaps (I can only imagine), graduation, marriage, and the likes. But these things are nothing in comparison to the surge of pride and pleasure I feel when I see my child struggling to overcome his fears, when I see him sacrificing on behalf of others.

There is nothing like it.

It makes me laugh and weep and pray and praise all at once. This joyful pain is a strange thing, unlike anything I've ever felt.



3 Queens from Matt Bieler on Vimeo.

I watched this video today. I loved the intimate glimpses of these mothers in their natural habitat. It made me wonder how my boys see me. How will they remember their childhood, how will they remember my voice.

It made me wonder how the Father sees me, from above. This was when I got all hot and cold. I know I have not pleased him with the words I spoke, the tone I used, the thoughts I thought. I am often selfish, often annoyed, often impatient and unkind. I am often controlled by my fears, and I often refuse to sacrifice for others. In short, I would not want my children to be running around with three video cameras.

Before I had too long to feel too horrible about my failures — grace hit me.

When the Father looks at me, he sees Jesus. I mean, that's crazy talk. Not only did he give his Son to die in my place, took the punishment of my sin, he even made me his. I am hidden in Christ. I am no longer exposed and naked and alone. Christ's righteousness covers me. His mercy covers my weaknesses, my flaws. Not only did he cancel my debt, God made me his daughter. The Father sees the Son when he looks at me.

His love frees me to overcome my fears.
His love frees me to sacrifice for others. 

So, my dear friend, wherever you are today, whether you are happy or sad or tired. Know this: When you put your faith in Christ, God is pleased with you. Not because of anything you have done, but because of everything Christ has done. I pray that you would know his pleasure and know his love for you, because this love — it's pretty spectacular. You are forever his.

Christ crucified.

The Gospel makes me laugh and weep and pray and praise all at once.
The crucifixion is the most joyful of all pains.
There is no one like him.

Wild chases

I turned 32 about a month ago. I am now Jesus' age when he was walking around, healing the sick, changing the story of the world. I still can't decide how I feel about being 32 (not that I can change my age). I'm still breaking it in, so to speak, like a new pair of shoes.

Some days, I miss my 20s. Ah, the possibilities! The dreams! The thrilling chases! New jobs, new opportunities, new cities.

I miss my 20s, that is, until I remember the hungry days as a grad student juggling a few jobs. All I was chasing then was a warm and quiet place to study. It was so cold in my apartment that I could actually see my breath. And the apartment was mold-infested. And sewage flowed into my bathtub.

Yeah. That would cure anyone of any romantic delusions of my 20s.

These days, I am mostly chasing souls, boy-shaped souls that are running (and crawling) around on fast little feet. It's a very different kind of chase. For one, the stakes are much higher. As opposed to my previous dreams (that are now obsolete), these boys are eternal. They will live on forever. At the beginning of every morning and the end of every night, the question that I am to answer is this: What am I teaching my children to love?

Many ask us why we choose to homeschool our children. There are many different ways we would approach this question, but this sums it up nicely: Homeschooling is the method Hans and I have chosen to pursue our children, to win their hearts to love the right things. Like all methods, we want to hold this one loosely. We know that ultimately, we cannot move their hearts — only the Spirit can. Our job is to faithfully sing the tune, in hopes that the boys would sing along.

(In case you want to know how it is going, I am huffing and puffing from the steep climb up the learning curve. Thankfully, the boys are kind to forgive their mommy every time she apologizes for her unruly behavior.)

The boys and I are memorizing first Corinthians 13 this week.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind.

These are good words to cling to as I break into 32. A familiar passage, but this week I read the apostle's words with an ache, a longing to understand, to be. It was then I realized that I, too, am being pursued. My Father chases me still.

I write this with thoughts and prayers for those of you who are in your teens and twenties, in hot pursuit of your dream school, dream career, or perhaps you are, like I was, just planning to survive the exams and stay warm this winter. The thing is, I didn't have to wait until I am married and birthing kids to be chasing souls. Love should be our pursuit no matter how old we are.

Do not be deceived as I was and make your life about "finding yourself" and "finding your voice." Lies. You will find your life's purpose by giving yourself to others. Jesus said, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever who loses his life for my sake will find it." Finders losers; losers keepers.

So, pour yourselves out as an offering to the Lord, into vessels that lasts forever — people, people, people.

We are teaching Emeth to pursue love. We are teaching Hanan to pursue love. And Khesed, well, he is still a baby, but his name means love. Speaking of love and wild chases, Emeth was fetching all sorts of things the baby was throwing from the high chair at dinner today. The big brother then explained to me: "We are playing Khesed's favorite game. He is human and I am his dog."

Their love for one another is God's kind mercy to me. Like a warm cup to cold hands. Like water to thirst. Their love for one another is the stuff my dreams are made of.

Take me instead

We know that God forgives sin. We talk about it often enough, how God is faithful to forgive us — all we have to do is ask.

We like to bring up David a lot, the poster child for forgiven sinners. David wanted something that did not belong to him. So, he took, he grabbed, he stole. David took Uriah's wife. He took Uriah's life. He took the lives of the men who were with Uriah to cover his own tracks. If God forgave David for murders and adultery, surely God can forgive me. We think we understand God's compassion and mercy. But do we really?

How exactly did God respond to David's rebellion?

When the prophet Nathan confronted him of his sin, Yahweh said to David: Remember all that I have given you. I gave you beyond what you could ever asked for or even begin to imagine. If this was too little for you, I would have given you much more. All David had to do was ask.

Yahweh could have said: David, why can't you be content with all the wives you already have? But he didn't. Instead, God reminded David of the One from whom all blessings flowed.

Just when we think we know where the story is going, the Lord blows us away. The Great River of God's compassion and mercy does not run straight. Its current twists and turns. Sometimes, the water breaks into a cascade, crashing onto jagged rocks.

Eve wanted something that did not belong to her. God gave her Eden. He gave her life. But this wasn't enough. She wanted more. So, she took the fruit, and she ate it. She then gave it to Adam. He took it, and he ate it.

How did God respond to their rebellion?

How does God respond to my rebellion?

Just when we think we know where the story is going, the Lord blows us away. He sends his Son, Yeshua, who took the penalty of our sin. He died in our place. With his nail-pierced hands and outstretched arms, his voice calls out to hungry souls:

Take me instead. 

Ask me.

Seek me. 

And I will be found by you. 

Daughters of the King: GRACE 2013

Hans and I are thrilled to be attending Grace Conference again this year. Hans will be teaching a series on worship, and I a series on womanhood (not during the same time-slot). I thought I would give you a summary here, in case this helps you decide which workshop to attend (as there are a few to choose from).

We will be searching through the Scripture, dwelling in a few stories together to understand womanhood, as God intended in the beginning. As for the gentlemen, you are most welcome to attend. Though this series may not apply to you directly, I hope that it may perhaps help you better serve and pray for the ladies in your lives.

I. Of Lady Eve

Eve had forgotten who she was. If she had asked God, "Lord, I desire beauty and wisdom. Please make me be like you." God would have reminded her, "You are like me; you were created in my image."

In the first workshop, we will examine what it means that Eve was created in the image of God and that she was created to be Adam's helper (Genesis 1-2). What are the implications of these truths for women today?

II. Of Lady Wisdom

I recognize Eve's hunger for beauty, knowledge, and independence all too well in my own soul. Instead of turning to my Father, who created me and gave me these desires, I gorge myself with deadly things.

In the second workshop, we will turn to the Lady who embodies Beauty and Wisdom, the first daughter of Yahweh (Proverbs 8:22-36). In following her instructions, she can help us transform into the women (and men) God has created us to be.

III. Of the King's daughters

What is your greatest, most dreadful fear? This is not a hypothetical question about bees or height. I am asking you about your day to day living. What are the fears that drive the story of your lives, the decisions that you make? Our greatest fears often correspond to our greatest desires.

In our third workshop, we will learn what it means to fear the Lord. This is the beginning of wisdom, and the mark of the King's daughters.