Asking Myself: Where is your faith? (Luke 8:25)

This is the 15th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: Where is your faith? (Luke 8:25)

I covered this in detail in a previous post about Matthew's version of Jesus sleeping in the boat. So to avoid rehashing it, I thought I would pull out this question as it speaks to me now, somewhat detached from its original, stormy context.

While this question could be interpreted as Jesus saying we have no faith, and why don't we go get ourselves some, I hear it a little differently. Let's assume a philosophical posture that everyone has faith, but we all put faith in different places. For instance, most of us have faith that earth's gravity will keep our feet on the ground, the sun will not forbear to shine, the oceans will obey their boundaries, time will continue to advance, etc. We daily choose to assume our loved ones will still be here tomorrow and that our own heart will continue beating. It isn't always the case, but why live in morbid fear of what could be?

We make this choice to believe often enough that it becomes habit, second nature, faith.

Of course, as Christians, we'd affirm nothing should be taken for granted, and life should be savored moment by moment or seized with wild exuberance, depending on our personalities. It really could end and we do not know the day nor hour. Yet I think it's good and right that we trust our basic assumptions about our worlds continuing on as they should. For without this modest set of beliefs about our own existence, we would be paralyzed with fear. It struck me as I wrote that, for some people, those whose paradigms are ravaged by war or sickness or natural disaster or crime, do find their basic safety at risk. They do become victims of a faith misplaced, jostled about and never fully resettled.

And there's Jesus, asking all of us —the rattled and the serene — where our faith is. Interpreted thus, he is really asking where are we putting our faith, and ultimately, he's inviting us to pin it fully on him. To trust the sun will rise tomorrow, yes, but even more to trust that if it didn't, God is still in control. To notice the Son in the sun's rise, to breathe deeply of the Spirit with each sigh, to see and point out Jesus in our loved ones. Faith is a choice at first before it becomes a way of being.

Surprise! I think I'm going to end here to give you a reprieve from my usual novel-length posts.

Next week: "Who do you say that I am?" (Luke 9:20)

Review of "The Life Giving Home: Creating a Place of Belonging & Becoming"

I finished reading mother-daughter duo's The Life Giving Home some weeks ago, but I had to process the ideas and emotions it provoked before I could write up a review. You must know by now, if you read me, that I spend waaaay more time thinking (daydreaming) than I do housekeeping. Likewise, as a capital "I" introvert, the vast majority of conversations that occur in my house also occur in my head, with myself. So, hospitality and remembering to ask you if you'd like a hot drink are not my specialty. But, how I wish I was that person. How I wish I was an honorary member of Sally and Sarah Clarkson's idyllic family, with their tea time and their family dramas (I'm not talking reality TV drama, I'm talking Little Women "let's put a play on in our study to brighten this dreary winter" drama). How I long to be a better homemaker and how easily I embrace the idea that you can be a feminist and a wonderful host(ess) at the same time. Just look at that subtitle: "Creating a place of belonging & becoming." How glorious that sounds! I could do it without the tea time sugar cubes and fancy china... but who doesn't want to have a place where they feel unreservedly loved and supported as they discover who they are becoming? Who wouldn't want to make their home such a place?

Jesus Asks: "Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I tell you?"

This is the 14th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: So, why do you call me "Lord, Lord," and do not do what I tell you? (Luke 6:46)

I struggle again to answer this next question, which Jesus asked toward the end of a message that included some of His major themes like the Beatitudes and the admonition to love our enemies. The message and the question were posed to his disciples and crowds of followers in a field. And, for me, reading through the lens of my language, time and culture, the question seems rather pointy. Rather accusatory. Mocking almost? I don't want to be offended by Jesus... but when I imagine Him asking me this question, I feel defensiveness rising up. 

Well, then, what else should I call you? Shouldn't I call you? Didn't you know ahead of time how bad we humans were at following through on what you tell us to do? 

At the same time, I know He's right. And before I get too far ahead with my personal reaction to the question, let's have a look at the context. I didn't really know what Jesus was asking without the context. (Confession: I still don't know exactly what he's asking even with the benefit of the context!)

Jesus Asks: Why were you searching for Me?

This is the 13th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: "Why were you searching for Me?" Luke 2:49

This week's question was posed to Jesus' parents in what reads a little like an ancient-day version of my boys' current favorite movie. This film would be titled: "Home Alone 3: Left in Jerusalem." Picture the scene: a big trip, a huge entourage of aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, friends and camels. Luke 2:43 (NLT) says:

After the celebration was over, they started home to Nazareth, but Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents didn't miss him at first...

When the time comes to head home after their week-long Passover stay, Mary and Joseph assume their eldest, Jesus, is with other members of the group. At 12, he's on the brink of manhood, having "grown wise and strong in stature," and he's experienced, having accompanied his family on this annual trip for more than a decade. I can see how his parents assume he's gotten with the program as the caravan heads back to Nazareth. And I get why they don't discover their oversight until a full day into the return trip, and why they reprimand him, "Son, why have you done this to us?," and blame him for getting himself left behind. But I don't think I fully get their son's response in v. 50, (and neither did Mary and Joseph):

"But why did you need to search?" he asked. "Didn't you know that I must be in my Father's house?" But they didn't understand what he meant.

What Jesus doesn't say gives me pause. By not refuting their question, it seems he's admitting that he purposely stayed behind, as v. 43 also seems to establish. Did Jesus deliberately disobey the implied directions of his parents? If they didn't explicitly tell him it was time to leave, did he take advantage of a loophole in the parental law? Did he stay on a technicality, and if so, is this an example of honoring his parents? Is it not sin?

Asking Myself: "My God, My God! Why have You forsaken Me?"

This is the 12th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while post 10 to now prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: "My God, My God! Why have You forsaken Me?" (Mark  15:34)

This question comes just in time for Easter. I'm still trying to figure out how to celebrate Jesus' death and resurrection with my kids... but I'm certain I don't want their prevailing impression to always be eggs and bunnies. When they are ready, I want them to wrestle with tough questions, like this one.

The tone and theme of the question suggests the asker's deepest trust has been shaken and his deepest love has been severed. A premature twilight has passed over the fiery passion of Jesus' soul. 

It's difficult to "Ask Myself" this question because I've not felt anything remotely like the agony Jesus must have at the moment he no longer beheld the cloudless face of God the Father guiding him, smiling upon him. No longer feeling the intimacy of being One. I'm not saying the Triune God ceased to be One, but, in that moment in time, in a very real sense, Father and Son were separated. I think it's safe to say there's some mystery here. 

Make that an awful, blinding mystery that stung like the drops of blood drawn from a thorn-pierced brow and nail-pierced hands. A disorienting, nauseating, numbing swirl of mystery as consciousness was fading in and out. Jesus knew it would happen. But did he fully know—do any of us humans, ever fully know before we experience?

My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?

Children's devotional "I AM" develops trust in God, delves into His many names

The Parrino house has quite a collection of children's Bibles. The title of Diane Stortz's sparkling (literally) new children's devotional, "I AM: 40 Reasons to Trust God," told me I had to get my hands on this one. The name is drawn from Psalm 9:10- "Those who know your name put their trust in you." I really like that thought-- the more of God's names we know, the more we meet Him in the fullness of His personality, the more reason we have to trust Him. Moreover, I love that this story bible takes as its central theme the many names of God because I feel it's important for kids get a taste of the complexity and wonder bound up in God's many attributes. 

The book covers 40 stories, evenly selected from both Old and New Testaments, with about four to six pages per story. The Old Testament stories include both the Hebrew name and an interpretation-- and I found myself learning some new names: El Emeth (God of Truth). El Kanna (Jealous God), and El Nehkumah (God of All Comfort) among them. The New Testament stories focus on both the names people called Jesus, such as Rabbi and Son of God, as well as names Jesus gave Himself, such as The Bread of Life and the Good Shepherd. 

I liked that the collection included some less common in the children's bible genre, such as the story of Ruth in the Old Testament and Jesus with Mary and Martha in the New. 

Each chapter contains a verse containing one of God's names, a retelling of  a Bible story that illustrates the featured facet, and a page of devotional content, including a couple of paragraphs subheaded "What Does It Mean?", a two-sentence prayer and a "Learn More" box with additional verses and a few sentences answer to the question "What Happened Next?"

With my own littles, (aged 7, 5 and 2) I stuck mainly to reading the name, verse reference and story. They tended to stop paying attention to the devotional portions. If you're someone who feels most secure when the devotional package is completely spelled out, I AM's format will appeal to you. Personally, I don't like everything to be scripted out for me. I like there to be some wiggle room to pause and let the boys raise their own questions, so after the first couple of chapters I stopped reading  the boys the devotional content. 

One other (minor) qualm I had was with the illustrations, which are vibrant and eye-catching and full of action-- but also, I found them a little bit too big-eyed, red-lipped, gown and hair-flowing, Disney-perfect. Kids really are drawn to this style, so my mention of it is more a matter of personal taste than criticism. 

Overall, I found this a worthy addition to our growing collection of illustrated Bible resources. 

I received my copy of I AM from BookLook Bloggers in exchange for my honest review.

Jesus Asks: "What do you want Me to do for you?"

This is the 11th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. Last week marked a shift from theological musings to reflection on the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: "What is it you want me to do for you?" --Mark 10:36

Unlike last week, where I dove into the verses first, I pondered this question without checking the specific context, knowing only that Jesus asked it.  I guessed that it might have been addressed to someone in need of healing. 

My answer? The "one thing" I would want Jesus to do for me were He to ask me point blank? I think at this moment in time it would be for direction. Fact is, I'm still stuck on my thoughts from last week. If you read my previous post, I talked about how I felt God had given me the impression that I might choose a new pursuit without fear, that He's for me, that He's confident even that I can make a wise (enough) decision about my future. 

All very wonderful things I should be extremely happy to hear. And I was. But actually, the thought terrifies me! I prefer the old paradigm-- Where I don't act until I receive the midnight revelation, the clear epiphany, the specific calling, the confirmation of God's Perfect Will, even if it's uttered in the still small voice. The little voice that might whisper:

This is the one you'll marry. 

Go spend a year studying the Bible.

Apply for that job.

I've heard all of those whispers before, and have even followed them in peace. The resulting experience was not uniformly easy, but I could cling to my own faith in God's leading in those situations. Though I still trust God was leading and my following was the best I could do at being faithful, I'm not entirely sure I believe in the idea of "perfect will" anymore. I suspect God's giving us free will extends to much more than just our initial salvation decision.