“Wow! Busy mama!” folks exclaim as we come into sight, before they even stop counting heads.
“How do you do it?”
I hear that question relatively often, from other moms or people who see my large family, with eight kids ranging in age from eleven to two, and think that it equates an unimaginable amount of work and stress only overcome by superhuman abilities.
While it would be fun to reveal I have some kind of super power or divulge a magical secret formula for how to manage life with many young children, the honest truth is I don’t.
I’m truly not even that patient. (Shocker, I know.)
Every day usually brings at least one moment (or many) where I tell God in exasperation that I just can’t do it, I don’t want to do it, and I have no idea how to keep going.
Then I keep going.
Beyond any sort of efficiency tips, parenting ideologies, logistics or systems I implement, deeper than the homeschool curriculums and methods I employ, deeper even than the energetic, strong personality I’ve been blessed with, these are the two main factors that form the foundation of how I do my life:
1. I turn to God.
2. I don’t quit.
While I am humbly honored by anyone wanting my thoughts on the actual practical ways I operate my home and manage the humans in it, I have to start with the baseline of these two practices. And the best part is, if I can do this, I absolutely believe anyone can do them as well!
I am fully human, very flawed, prone to frustration, exhaustion, insecurity, and a frantic need to control. The great news is I don’t have to rely on this part of me, because as a follower of Christ, my Bible tells me that I am loved by God, chosen, holy, and free from sin. I have been showered with kindness, wisdom, and understanding. I have been made a new creation, a masterpiece of God, made to do the good things He planned for me long ago. And I am brought near to God through the sacrifice of Christ. (Ephesians 1:4,7-8; 2:10, 13)
I am not a superhuman. But I trust and know a superbly supreme Super-Being who fills me each day with the ability to live in a way that is not based in my human nature (when I allow Him to).
I can only make it so far on my own strength and ability to control my temper and adjust my attitude. I am unable to be endlessly patient with whining and bickering. I lack the endurance to patiently teach and re-teach a stonewalling, snarky child how to find the greatest common factor, or the right way to fold clean laundry, or to speak respectfully to a younger sibling. I am quickly bewildered by how to get an obstinate toddler to stop spitting on the carpet, or help a frustrated child cope with ongoing eczema outbreaks.
Multiply all that by eight, add a cluttered, dusty house and three daily meals to prepare, and on my own steam I don’t have a chance.
So.
1. I turn to God.
My relationship with God is the dearest thing I possess. Thus I make it a priority to haul my often-tired self out of bed each morning and spend time reading His Word, talking to Him and (here’s the hard part) staying quiet enough to listen to Him. But He meets with me in those quiet morning moments, and His presence brings a solace, joy, and strength to my soul that nothing else gives.
I would be a fool to skip out on this essential, life-giving interaction, because this is the secret fuel that gives me the power to make it through each day.
I don’t stop eating physical food or drinking water during the day, or I would crash in exhausted lack of energy. In the same way, my time in the Bible and in prayer and meditation is the food that feeds my heart and gets my mindset on track for each situation I may encounter.
Whether it’s ten precious minutes or a delightful hour or more, time with my Father fills me up to carry on my current work of being a mama, wifey, and Household Executive of a family of ten needy, wonderful, imperfect people.
Even just deliberately choosing to turn my thoughts toward Him throughout my day, whispering a prayer in my heart, and deciding to be thankful for something in the midst of the noisy mess has a way of refilling the joy and peace that only He can give.
2. I don’t quit.
My second “secret” is just to keep going. My God is faithful. I want to be like Him. He doesn’t quit on me – ever. So I know He’ll give me the ability and strength for each new day to put one foot in front of the other on this journey of mothering and homemaking.
And He’ll hold my heart and give me peace when I want to scream, smash a glass dish or two, burn the dinner, and fly away to an isolated Caribbean island for six months. I know because He has done it – and His peace is priceless and incomprehensible.
So basically, my second foundational aspect of how I do my life – not quitting – is also centered in God.
There you have it, the big secret of “how I do it”: God. He’s the “how”. He’s really the only “how” ever. Other things can be helpful, but for me He is the essential.
The Bible states that those who have Him have everything they need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3). And God always keeps His promises. Especially to busy, easily overwhelmed mamas like me.
Parenting is often more about being parented. I say this because knowing who you are as a child of God and learning to be parented by Him will so deeply impact you that it will spill over into how your raise your children.
(A Letter to My Children)
My darlingest Doodledobs:
To care for a young child, or a younger person, or any person in need, really, is a bit like roaring in the dark. To choose to show love when you take the time, give the work, and enter in the cost of another’s weakness or helplessness by tending to their needs… well, that’s being a little like Jesus, right? It’s a way of declaring strongly: “This small thing has great import. This little one is significant. There is hope and greatness here that must be nurtured. I declare by my actions that this one has a purpose and a future that deserves my attentions and respect.” And that declaration goes out like a roar in the vast distance of a darkness where many believe they are unloved, untended, forgotten, abandoned, unwanted, and unclaimed as valueless.
This is why I think parenting is the work that most closely resembles what our Father God does, and therefore is possibly among the greatest acts one can ever choose to perform while on Earth. He too has “brought us forth” (James 1:18, 1 Peter 1:3, 23), claimed us, named us (Revelation 2:17, 3:12), and lovingly teaches and raises us to our calling as a nation of royal rulers and priests (Is. 61:6, 1 Peter 2:9). He delights in us (Zephaniah 3:17, Ps. 41:11, Deuteronomy 30:9), disciplines us (Hebrews 12:5-7), and cares only for our highest and greatest good – which is to be made holy and to know him fully (Hebrews 2:11, 12:14, 2 Timothy 2:21, 1 Corinthians 6:11).
When we raise up small, initially utterly dependent, largely helpless children to become sentient, purposeful, independent adults who are capable of elevating and increasing benefit to others in turn, we are Godlike. And so we should be, as His children – we should be resembling Him in the work that most closely reflects His main purpose for us.
I hope you never look at a frazzled, embarrassed, clearly worn parent holding a screaming toddler in the aisle of a grocery store with amusement, distaste, or contempt. I pray you do not judge the parent who seems merely complaining and exhausted, even as they do another load of stained and smelly laundry they did not wear, dig through the garage for needed athletic equipment which they personally have never used, or turn the house upside down to find a homework assignment which they have not lost.
Weary parents who work hard all day only to come home and throw together a special birthday dinner, celebrate a lost tooth, or mourn a scraped elbow with a kiss and a bandage do not acknowledge the truth of their actions: They are the heroes of our world, because they are acting like the most amazing Super-Being ever. They are reciprocating the love of their Father God, even if they don’t realize it, by enacting it out on fragile, faulty and fallen fellow humanity.
As such, they are worthy of tender honor and esteem. As you will be when you take on this enormous, impossible and deeply shattering challenge of parenting – whether it’s through raising children, being a mentor, or in whatever way God leads you to pour into the needy lives and hearts of others around you. (The Apostle John fathered churches! 1 John 1)
A frequent prayer of mine has been that God would mercifully mitigate my parenting with His own. I have asked Him many times to filter me to you so that He would block anything coming from me that would turn you away from Him or give you a wrong impression of His love and character. It is only through His great mercy and kindness that He has allowed me to be your mom, and it takes my breath away to think about it.
Parenting is often more about being parented. I say this because knowing who you are as a child of God and learning to be parented by Him will so deeply impact you that it will spill over into how your raise your children.
For example: Remembering how He patiently reminds me again and again about an area where I need to grow (like being quick to get angry!) helps me calm down and also see that I need to be willing to give you a more patient and loving reminder instead of making every single mess-up a major deal. His grace to me shows me the rightness of giving it to you.
Knowing who you are in your heavenly Father’s eyes and knowing how you are held close to His heart can only grow you and equip you in being able to see your own children properly, and loving them truly. There is no manual or how-to guide on parenting that is flawless or fitting for every child. Each person is so unique and fascinatingly varied! It would be impossible to write a guide that would apply perfectly in every situation.
And that is exactly why we need to be holding tightly to our own Father’s hand and listening carefully to His voice as we parent our own children – because He is the most wise, loving, perfect Parent who created our children and knows each of them intricately! Only by carefully walking each step with Him and humbly seeking His counsel and help for each situation, just like little children, can we hope to navigate through the uncertain waters and sometimes deep waves of parenting.
Parenting is often really about making disciples. We parents are quick to forget this – and it’s an easy thing to do! – because there is so much that seems to yell at us from the sidelines as we run this marathon (mountain trek?) of trying to raise kids well. Our family, friends, culture, and the world all want to give us helpful information on how to successfully keep our children alive, thriving, happy, and smart. There are many good things to learn from these sources. But unless we have an initial and primary focus on something, the way can become very confusing, cluttered, and overwhelmed very quickly. So who are you going to train your sight on as you raise your children?
If our focus is already on Jesus for ourselves, our choices that really truly matter in how we raise our kids become more clear, even from infancy – regardless of whether or not their spinach is organic or if we decide to forgo pacifiers or if we co-sleep. (For the record – I feel organic is nice but not an essential over just getting green veg down your throats; you all hated pacifiers and acted like I was trying to make you gag to death whenever I tried in desperation to give you one; and I was a sleepless, hysterical mess when I ever tried co-sleeping… I was too hyperaware and paranoid and never got a restful night, then turned into a raging emotional wreck during the days. But that was me.)
When we walk as disciples of Jesus, parenting becomes a long discipline of creating more disciples, even as we ourselves learn to follow Him.
I recently took a class on setting and achieving goals. We started by listing many big dreams we would love to reach one day, but then we were required to choose only one. From that dream we had to break down various things that must happen in order for us to reach it, and then from that short list we again were required to choose only one to focus on for a specific time frame. If raising children who are followers of Jesus is the big goal, then I think that likely the shorter list of ‘must-happen’ things would be topped by: “I must be a close follower of Jesus myself“. Then by pursuit of this, the way to the big dream of raising followers of Jesus will become clearer. (I didn’t say easier. You know I have always tried to be truthful to you.)
When Dad and I flew to visit our friends recently, we saw them lovingly, thoughtfully, and wisely interact with their daughters for the duration of our stay. I commented to my friend how impressed I was by her patience and calm parenting of her children, and her response was to thank me sincerely. But then she also reminded me that she was parenting in front of others and therefore it was the best version of herself as a mom coming out.
I thought about her comment for a long time, and I saw how it was true for me, too. If any other person is present who was not a member of our immediate family, even a child, my words were more measured and my tone more kind. I was more thoughtful and patient, less quick to become exasperated, and more inclined to use humor. I smiled more. I used my phone less. I listened more carefully.
It became very startling to recognize that I obviously had great self-control and a large capacity for excellent parenting… when I knew someone else was watching. So where was that control and kindness when no one else was present? Wasn’t it a tragedy in some ways to only give you children the best of me when others were around?
And here was the kicker: As a child of God, with the Holy Spirit living in me, the irony of it all was that there WAS Someone there all the time! The greatest, most important, significant and impressive Someone in the world! If I could see a physical manifestation of Him, I would likely parent better than if all the honored dignitaries, world leaders, and acclaimed celebrities were there packed in our kitchen carefully watching me in my interactions with you. And yet I somehow struggle daily to hold that fact in my mind and live like it is true.
Part of a common phrase came to mind, and I amended it to suit my thoughts: Dance like no one’s watching, parent like Someone is. Now I often ask that my Father reminds me that He is present, that He is worthy of my best behavior toward you, and that you are only in my temporary stewardship for a short season of life.
How I pray that I will keep remembering that you ultimately belong to Him, and you deserve the best version of me, too. I truly desire that you will see me grow deeply in practicing His presence in this area.
Being your mom is probably the greatest privilege of my life. Also probably one of the greatest challenges, the greatest struggles, and the greatest joys I will ever have. Parenting you all has been in turns exhilarating, infuriating, bewildering, and always, always humbling. I have been made increasingly aware of my own failings, limitations, weaknesses, and the areas I need to grow in. And I am deeply sorry for any wrongs I have done to you, the many times I was too harsh, so quickly angry. Please forgive me for the times I did not make time for you, did not listen well, and did not reflect Jesus to you, in spite of my best hopes and intentions.
Thank you for your deep and tender love to me, wholehearted and unreserved, your quickness to forgive, your openness to my instruction. You each have been among the greatest, most precious gifts of my life, and I love you so dearly.
May the life I live being your mom be a pleasing offering, bringing the best I am each day, and may our Father be so precious to all of us that we live our lives always delighted by His nearness.
With the recent mandatory stay-at-home order, life-as-usual jumped the tracks. Suddenly the framework of routine, of habit, of busy activities was shaken, if not completely shattered. Time slowed and blurred in the same moment.
The loss of “usual” during this time has created a space for the courageous to assess what had composed the usual, and if it was actually worth pursuing once the world began spinning again. There is no longer the excuse of not enough time to stop and consider, because we were given a pause to catch our breath and decide if we liked the air we had chosen to breathe.
That which had tilted and driven and muffled and turned the direction of thoughts and purposes away from what had once been clear and pristine now has the possibility of being struck off and discarded, like excess tonnage that burdened our hearts and lives.
This is an opportunity to carefully, thoughtfully, objectively observe the life choices that are driving our days and to decide if and how we want to bring change and balance.
This is the chance to right our previous bendings toward things lesser, cluttering, or just wrong, the small things we secretly mourned we could never change.
We have been blessed with this time to sift and evaluate and remember what it is we want our days to mean, what legacy we yearn to create. This is often somber work, but joyful and freeing, too. This effort is necessary to move ahead with a clearer purpose and a truer, stronger heart.
It is our time to right and thereby rewrite the story of this chapter of our lives. Here’s to making it worth reading.
Baked Oatmeal – shown here as the Almond Adaptation, one of my most favorite versions
This recipe comes from my friend Jill, for which I am forever grateful to her, and I hug her in my mind whenever I make it. Which is a lot of mind-hugs. It is one of my most-requested recipes!
Chewy, old-fashioned oats steep in a custard-like mixture overnight, then bake to a scrumptiously crumbly-sweet dish spoonably eaten with berries and a drizzle of maple syrup (if desired). I have tinkered with her basic recipe and now often make an almond variation, to rave reviews from family and friends, but you do you.
Delicious, satisfying, adaptable, and best of all – made the night before so there’s minimal preparation in the morning! Perfect for gifting to families with a new baby or who just need a cozy, comforting morning meal. (You can gift it to me anytime.)
Make it tonight, enjoy it tomorrow morning, and see if it doesn’t become one of your family favorites too! (Just send me a mind-hug afterwards.)
Best Baked Oatmeal
Makes a 9×13″ pan, easily halved
4 eggs
1 cup vegetable, coconut, or canola oil
scant 2 cups sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract
6 cups old fashioned oatmeal
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp salt
2 cups milk
Cinnamon for sprinkling, if desired
Grease a 9×13″ baking pan.
In a large bowl, beat eggs, oil, and sugar till smooth. Add oats, baking powder, salt, vanilla and milk. Mixture will seem runny.
Pour carefully into prepared pan, sprinkle with cinnamon (if using) and cover tightly with plastic wrap or aluminum foil. A lid works nicely too.
Place pan in fridge and leave overnight or for a minimum of about 6-8 hours.
When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F/180 degrees C. Take pan out of fridge to warm up just a leetle bit.
Bake for about 35 mins. Edges should be golden (see photo above). If you like your oatmeal a little more crumbly and dry, bake another 3-5 mins. If you like it more soft and chewy-moist, take that pan out a couple mins earlier and let sit for about 5 mins before serving.
Serve warm with a drizzle of maple syrup, if desired, and berries (either fresh or frozen) or chopped fresh fruit of your choice.
Adaptations:
Almond Baked Oatmeal: – Cut vanilla down to 1 tsp or omit, add 2-3 tsp almond extract. Add about 1 cup of sliced/flaked almonds to mixture and sprinkle a few on top. This version is amazing topped with blueberries, cherries, or sliced pears!
But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.
-Job 23:10, NIV
My Dear Lovebugs:
A couple months ago I had a really hard morning. Toddlers coloring with markers on their clothes and body (then wailing loudly because they demanded a bath to wash the brilliant blue off their skin), dirty diapers and kids with hacking coughs, siblings bickering, speaking nastily, and fighting over the best way to cut Valentine’s hearts (seriously!), and a kitchen full of dirty dishes, half-prepared lasagna pans, leftover breakfast mess, and a stove top splattered with tomato sauce. Then I found out that afternoon that a few of you had been sneaking and broke family rules while I was out running errands the day before, playing a video game by yourselves that was reserved for playing with Daddy only. In a word, discouraging. Not so much that you did it, but that only one of you was tender-hearted and conscience-stricken enough to confess to me that day, although all of you wept and apologized most sincerely after it was discovered.
But here’s the thing, chickies. It comes as no surprise to me that this world (and everyone in it, including you, my dearest punks) is tainted with sin. Life here on Earth is often a mess. People do the wrong thing and make hurtful choices, even when they don’t actually want to sometimes (Romans 7:14-25), because they aren’t perfect. (Shocker, I know.) The only perfect Being is our Father God, something you’ve heard so many times that you’re in danger of tuning out when you hear it again. But pay attention, because this is important: He is in the process of perfecting us, too, so you mustn’t lose hope or trust in Him, even when you let yourself down horribly. In fact, in Philippians we are assured that we can be confident in this very thing, that He who began a good work in us will be faithful to continue His work until the day Christ Jesus returns (Philippians 1:6). He is the faithful, true God of the Bible and He is the faithful, true God of you today.
God’s fulfillment of His covenant promise to Abraham about bringing the children of Israel out of slavery in Egypt and to their home in the Promised Land was not just to set them free from oppression and give them the freedom to thrive and prosper in their outer, physical lives. He intentionally promised Abraham specifically regarding their inner, spiritual lives as well, mentioned in Zechariah’s prayer-prophecy-song: “He has been merciful to our ancestors by remembering his sacred covenant – the covenant he swore with an oath to our ancestor Abraham. We have been rescued from our enemies so we can serve God without fear, in holiness and righteousness for as long as we live.” (Luke 1: 72-75, NLT, emphasis mine) We are promised holiness and righteousness in this life! We have been cleansed from our sin and guilt, created new in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared in advance for each of us (Ephesians 2:10). He created us in Christ Jesus to do good works – so that is now our purpose! What an encouragement to think about, especially when we stumble and blunder and disappoint others and ourselves.
It’s as if we were filthy, bedraggled, lice-and-disease-ridden, abused and cowering slaves of a cruel overlord. Not only could we not escape on our own, even if we did, we would have no idea of how to behave or survive without returning to the same broken mentality, because we knew nothing else and had no medicine for our diseases. By putting your faith in Jesus Christ, He paid the purchase price in full, hacked off the chains and ropes that bound you, and then took you to a healing spa where you were completely washed, exfoliated, cleansed, and doctored.
But He didn’t leave you there afterward, clean and naked, shivering and purposeless. He gave you some of His own shimmering, pure white clothes, smooth on your scarred skin and cooling on your bruises. And then He handed you an incredible job opportunity! A unique assignment, designed specifically for you, because as crazy as it may seem, the Creator-Emperor of the Universe decided to fulfill his purposes on Earth by collaborating with former slaves, choosing us to fill roles of great responsibility and worth. We are now ambassadors of His Kingdom, speaking on His behalf and behaving as his representatives on Earth! (2 Corinthians 5:20)
But how are we supposed to go about this astounding assignment? With the perfect, unceasing help from our untiring and faultless Counselor and Guide, the Holy Spirit, who is there with us, available for guidance, inspiration, and communication 24/7. “But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative—that is, the Holy Spirit—he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you.” (John 14:26, NLT) He is there, available to us, but we must choose to draw on and applywhatever He teaches us. He is faithful, loving, truthful and tender, and cares too deeply about us to leave us as we once were. But again, it is our choice to pursue and implement the wisdom and leading that He gives!
Choosing to ignore or deliberately disobey His voice begins to muffle and hinder our recipience of His speech to us, like freezing a river’s flow or flinging sodden branches on a small fire. Water may still be trickling beneath the river’s icy surface, but with drastically decreased power and energy. The fire may still be flickering, but smoke and vapor decrease its visibility, warmth, and light.
We must unceasingly seek His guidance with humility and persistence, listening carefully and attentively. Each of you can trust that He walks with you on the unique path designed for you and the ambassadorship calling you alone have been given. Through this delightful partnership, He will bring the most glory to Himself and the most joy and fulfillment to you.
My chickadees, do you know what alchemy is? Alchemy was an ancient branch of natural philosophy, an extra-early scientific tradition practiced in many countries. While many people today understand it to be a form of pseudo-science that solely attempted to turn base metals into gold and was essentially a deceptive practice, alchemy was actually far more broad and less fraudulent in its aims.
Alchemists were trying to purify and perfect certain materials, creating something of greater worth from more base elements. Alchemy was based on the idea that there was an elemental substance within certain things that, if refined and reduced to its most essential state, would be so exquisitely pure and perfect it would be capable of transforming certain elements into something of highest value (in that era, gold). But most importantly, they believed that an ultra-purified substance like this (also known as a philosopher’s stone) would also be able to give rejuvenation and immortality to man – an elixir of life.
Fascinating as this may be to you, why am I referencing archaic and obsolete proto-scientific philosophies? Because, my darlings, I find alchemy to be a beautiful analogy for the work that the Holy Spirit is embarked on when He comes into our lives and hearts and begins to transform us into the likeness of Christ (1 Corinthians 15:49, Romans 8:29)!
Our glorious King is like a Great Alchemist – He is taking us, creatures of earth, each uniquely formed and each of us with our own special element that He placed in us from the first, and He works in us to bring the best outcome (Philippians 2:13). We are carefully, lovingly, painstakingly and unceasingly purified and cleansed. We are heated, cooled, and processed how He knows will refine us best and bring out that which is our most perfect and exquisite essence. Each of us reflects His beauty and glory in a different way – like a radiant jewel with flashing facets, each reflecting a different spark of light, each person in His Kingdom reflecting Him uniquely, wondrously.
As we allow this glorious work, as we surrender to this refining, uncomfortable, and often painful process, we can trust Him knowing that His expertise is irreproachable and perfect. Unlike the faulty and flawed human endeavors in alchemy, His work is fully a brilliant success. As Job declared in the midst of his suffering, “But he knows where I am going. And when he tests me, I will come out as pure as gold.” (Job 23:10, NLT) Our choice is to agree with His work and yield to His superior understanding. You can be certain He is always guided by His deep love for us, and He will be faithful to bring to perfection what He began in you when you first asked Him to be your God and King (Philippians 1:16).
Surrendering to the flame, the crushing, and the suffering in the refinement process sometimes feels as though we are losing ourselves. My lovelies, please believe me when I tell you that when we willingly give up all of ourselves to Him, what remains after the refining process is only more intrinsically ourselves – what we lose is often the external crust, the dross, and the more fleshly parts of self that were obscuring His glory reflected in us. He is not trying to make you lose yourself – He is helping you become yourself, your true self as He initially intended for you to be from when He designed you from before the Creation of the world. “Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes.” (Ephesians 1:4) You are most true to yourself when you are holding tightly to His Truth.
He loves and delights in each of you as the glorious, wholly unique and adorable person He made you, with your own quirks and personality, appearance, preferences, and mental processes. As you allow it, He is refining in each of you the unspeakably valuable essence you already hold – that which makes you most you is most beautiful and precious when it is in the context of His purity and purpose.
This is why each person is precious. This is why life is so valuable. Because each life, each person, is an irreplaceable, unrepeatable, uniquely beautiful opportunity to reveal another facet of God’s beauty and glory to each other. This is why those who believe in Christ should be so surrendered to the work of the Holy Spirit personally that as we interact corporately, we are overcome with the light and glory we see in each other. The intrinsic beauty of each person’s God-formed essence should create a deep delight in us, both toward each other, and then upward toward our Father. And that should only inspire us to worship. “May God, who gives this patience and encouragement, help you live in complete harmony with each other, as is fitting for followers of Christ Jesus. Then all of you can join together with one voice, giving praise and glory to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Romans 15:5-6, NLT)
How I long for the day when I will know myself as the truest, most glorious version of me, when I am free from this body of dusty flesh and this broken world. The best is yet to come. We who love God and remain faithful shall come forth, like Job, as gold, and the whole of Creation waits in eager expectation of the glorious revealing of the sons and daughters of God (Romans 8:18-21).
In the meantime, in the days I have left here in this Earth, I shall not turn from the flame, nor from the slow process and the pain. I want to become what my Great Alchemist sees that I am. As the Living Water (John 4:13), He is my Elixir of Life, and as the Cornerstone of the Kingdom (Luke 20: 17-18), He is the ultimate philosopher’s stone. His Holy Spirit gives my soul immortality, His loving hand turns my dust to gold.
My most precious children, I pray that you will fiercely pursue our God with hearts of deep love and faith, no matter what circumstances come. “These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” (1 Peter 1:7, NLT).
On busy mornings when I have a lot of short people needing to be fed somewhat quickly and with something that will sustain them for a good stretch of time, this proteinacious and straight-forward breakfast is a frequent winner in our home.
We lovingly call it “Breakfast Mess”, but “Skillet Scramble” probably sounds better.
Versatile, adaptable, filling, and delicious, my kids have been known to eat it for breakfast and then cheerfully devour any leftovers for lunch as well! Try it and see what you think.
Breakfast Skillet Scramble (Breakfast Mess)
The following is less of a recipe and more of a method.
Eggs
Frozen shredded hashbrowns, or cooked chopped boiled potatoes, or leftover chopped french fries or tater tots, or leftover baked potato, diced, whatever you have!
Chopped/diced ham or turkey or crumbled sausage or chopped cooked bacon, or leftover steak or pulled pork… you get the idea.
Chopped vegetables – I have used leftover steamed broccoli, fresh sliced peppers, chopped steamed green beans, frozen green peas, chopped cooked spinach, chopped roasted asparagus… I just usually stick with one kind each time.
Seasonings you like – salt, pepper, granulated garlic, granulated onion, cayenne…
Shredded or grated or crumbled cheese – you pick your favs, I’ll pick mine: I usually go with cheddar, feta, smoked gouda or whatever I can find in my fridge.
All right. Ready? Let’s do this!
First, heat up your griddle to medium heat. If you don’t have one, use a skillet or a frying pan. Lightly grease it. Spray oil, butter, bacon grease… you pick.
Start with the potatoes, mostly so they have a chance to get a little crisped up. Stir them around a little so they get a bit golden, maybe 3-5 mins.
Add the veg. Today I had some sliced peppers and leftover steamed broccoli, so that’s what I used, adding them to the frozen shredded hash browns.
Once it’s all mixed about and nicely heated, start cracking eggs over the top. Depending on how many you’re cooking for, or how hungry you are, this number for me can be anywhere from about 8 eggs to 15 eggs. (I think 16 was the most I’ve done on one skillet so far.)
Cook till the eggs are a little set and the whites have become, well, white. Then break the yolks and drag them about to ensure a pretty even eggy layer throughout all that potato-vegetable goodness. This is exactly the part that earned the name “Breakfast Mess”.
Season it with what you like! I usually go for salt, granulated garlic, black pepper, and sometimes granulated onion.
Let it cook till it’s set enough to start cutting into wedges with your spatula. Then start cutting into wedges with your spatula. Like this:
Then cut the wedges into squarish chunks so you can flip them over, like this:
Now, sprinkle on your cheese of choice, if you’re choosing cheese. I went with feta and cheddar today. And I added a bit of chopped parsley, because I had some and felt like being fancy and irritating my kids:
Et, voila! A delicious, messy-looking, but scrumptious and filling breakfast delight. You’re welcome.
A handheld riff on the classic Eggs Benedict, this is an easy, delicious Miller family favorite!
I love Eggs Benedict.
Butter filling the crevices and pockets of a warmly toasted English muffin, the creamy tang of smoothly whisked Hollandaise sauce, savory bacon or ham, and a perfectly poached egg perched above. Clean, brightly flavored parsley sprinkled on top for contrast – lovely!
And yet. With a large family, this can become an operation equaling the efforts of a small restaurant, without the benefits of a crew of kitchen staff all working to make it happen (since it’s usually just me in the kitchen so far). So. I have adapted and tweaked and come up with my own version that is far more family-friendly, with the flavors and textures we still love.
(Attempting to combine Saturday-morning-ease with feeding a large tribe, foodie purists may blanch at some of my tweaks. Please forgive me for my low-bred adaptations if you find them beyond what you can bear. In the meantime, my family will continue to enjoy our speedy, handheld version of this classic, elegant brunch specialty without apology or hesitation.)
Hoping you enjoy this riff on Eggs Benedict!
Eggs Benedict Breakfast Sandwiches
English muffins, one per person, split, toasted and buttered generously
1 egg per person – fried gently as desired (i.e. sunny side up, hard, scrambled…), lightly seasoned with salt and pepper
1-2 slices ham, or sliced turkey, or 3 strips of bacon per person
about 2 Tbsp “Hollandaise/Fauxlandaise” Sauce per person- see below for recipe
1 Tbsp minced fresh parsley per person, optional
Take two halves toasted and buttered English muffin. On bottom, spread about 1 Tbsp “Hollandaise/Fauxlandaise” sauce. Layer with ham, turkey, bacon, or meat of choice. Gently lay fried egg on top, dollop another tablespoon “Hollandaise/Fauxlandaise” sauce, sprinkle with tablespoon fresh parsley. Place second half of English muffin on top, place on plate. Place in front of grateful and hungry diner. Bon appetit!
Another option is to cook two eggs per person, and layer them more like an open-faced Eggs Benedict, one egg on each English muffin half, with the sauce, ham, and parsley on each. Then you will need knives and forks to eat it, but it might increase the elegance quotient if that’s what you’re after. Or just increase the protein/serving size quotient to satiate children with appetites like bears with hollow legs. (That’s usually what I’m after.)
“Hollandaise/Fauxlandaise” Sauce
1 1/2 cups mayonnaise
1 heaping Tbsp yellow mustard (or dijon)
1 Tbsp lemon juice or white wine vinegar
dash salt
dash ground black pepper
dash cayenne pepper
dash granulated garlic, optional (but I always do)
2-3 Tbsp butter, melted, optional. (This is if you want to be just a step closer to genuine and assuage your conscience, but I often don’t, shamelessly.)
Whisk ingredients together in small bowl till smooth. Taste and adjust as desired. Set aside. Keep leftovers in refrigerator.
Makes about 1 1/2 cups.
(This recipe was inspired by Jane Rodmell’s “Virtuous Hollandaise” in her cookbook Best Summer Weekends, pg. 248.)
It was a dark and windy night, clouds scudding rapidly across the moonless sky. The mango trees creaked, while the palmetto’s fan-like leaves scraped and rustled in the gusts of wind. Inside the house, our family was quiet and subdued as we prepared for bed. There had been several unsolved murders recently, and justice had to be done.
My dad’s chicken house had been broken into twice in the past few days, with two feathered victims left bloodied and dead, despite his taking extra caution to check for openings for predators and lock it up at night. There was only one suspect: My sister’s old orange-and-white cat, Elmo.
After the double murders, my dad had caught sight of Elmo unwisely lurking around the scene of the crime, during the hours the door was left open for the hens to wander and scratch in the yard. He had been seen standing below the open door, poised as if to jump inside the coop, but had quickly darted away when he saw my dad come out on the porch. He had been known to try to stalk the chickens in the past (granted, without any success, since they were about as large as he was), and Dad was quick to point out Elmo’s guilty, furtive air that he had worn the past week. The theory was that he was getting old and bloodthirsty, sneaky and able to kill but unable to devour his victims. To my dad, there was no doubt: Elmo needed to be humanely and quickly put down before more innocent chicken lives were ruthlessly taken.
In our family, any of our animals that took the life of another of our animals was quickly dispatched, usually by my dad, in the form of an appointment with a shotgun in the back corral. Elmo was our family’s oldest surviving pet in our home in the tropics, and despite his grumpy ways, was generally viewed with fondness and affection. Until now.
Elmo the cat was finding himself decidedly in the doghouse.
During the family court held that night, with my dad as prosecutor, jury, and judge, there was only a slim chance for Elmo. But my sister and I quickly appointed ourselves the defendant’s attorneys, and pled for a delay of execution due to lack of evidence. We said that if there was another such incident and Elmo was indeed caught as perpetrator, we would no longer stand between him and a justly deserved death sentence. We only asked for at least a week’s reprieve or till a more thorough investigation could be done. Our dad, torn between wanting vengeance for his chickens and upholding unbiased justice, reluctantly agreed.
For the next few days, Elmo, sensing the grim skepticism of my dad toward his innocence, only added to his tarnished reputation by being excessively slinky and furtive. We kids kept a sharp lookout for any convicting behavior, but everything was quiet. Very quiet.
The tension grew.
My parents’ room was closest to the chicken coop, and each night my dad would lie in bed awake, listening for any sound of a poultry commotion, silently daring the cat to try his luck one more time. Each morning, we children would anxiously ask if anything had happened in the night, holding our breath till we heard that Elmo was still on probation.
Then, one night as my parents were getting ready for bed, my dad heard it: a squawking and fluttering, and a loud agitated scuffling from the chicken house. This was it! At last, if he could get there in time, the culprit would be brought to full justice!
Without pausing to pull on pants, my dad thundered out of the house in only his white briefs. The door slammed behind him as he pounded down the porch, jumped the steps, and charged up the lawn in the windy night toward the chicken house. Reaching the coop, he barely slowed before flinging open the back door of the coop that had been somehow pushed ajar. The chickens were squawking, thrashing about, and screeching with such noise my dad’s approach was unnoticed by the killer within.
Reaching in, he grabbed the furry beast in the midst of attacking the chickens, and in righteous indignation, holding Elmo fiercely by the scruff of his neck, began spanking him, saying through gritted teeth: “Bad cat! Bad cat!”
Suddenly, my dad smelled a rank and fetid odor. It appeared to emanate from the creature he had assumed was Elmo. He stopped, and, holding up the animal carefully in the dim light, was stunned to see that he had been spanking a large, dirty-gray, wild possum. The possum, startled and immobile, gazed back at him in shock.
By this time, my mom had followed him outside and was standing on the porch, peering across the wind-swept, dark yard. She saw him standing stock still next to the chicken coop, clad only in his underwear, holding something out at arms’ length. She called out, “What is it?”
“A possum!” He yelled back, with some consternation. “What do I do with it?”
“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, starting to laugh at the odd question. “Just throw it away!”
Dad carried the possum off into the night, far away from the chicken coop and over toward the fence of our property, where he chucked it into the bushes. Then he returned to latch up the chicken coop again, and head back to the house to shower and get in bed, both relieved and somewhat chagrined to have the case closed in this unexpected way.
The next morning we children were delighted to hear that Elmo had been fully exonerated and his innocence reestablished. He was indeed now out of the doghouse. His expression that morning might have been interpreted as slightly relieved to be off the threat of death row (but then, cats are usually somewhat inscrutable).
As for the possum, we never saw it again, possibly due to its permanent shock at being the recipient of a spanking when it was just trying to snag a free chicken dinner. My dad later found a small gap in the slats next to the chicken coop door that had allowed the predator access, and after it was fixed everyone slept with far greater serenity.
There will be seasons of your life where you feel you have been firmly and irrevocably stuck in the dark, upside down, and for an indeterminate time. Yet you must remember: you are never forgotten or left alone. Each day the Master’s hand is there with you in the dark, turning you, noticing you, carefully and expertly caring for you.
My Beautiful Loves:
Do you remember how in the Old Testament, God’s law commanded that once they were in the Promised Land, the Israelites were to offer up a drink offering of wine along with the other sacrifices they gave? (Numbers 15, 28, 29, Leviticus 23) This was to mark the Sabbath of resting in peace in the land after their long time of travels and battles, and was to be a gift to God. The wine represented the joy in the sacrifice, the celebratory part of offering up the best of one’s labors. Later in the New Testament, the Apostle Paul speaks about how he is being “poured out as a drink offering” (Philippians 2:17, 2 Timothy 4:6), comparing his work to the wine offered alongside the labors of the churches, both giving joy to God and others as he poured out his efforts for the Kingdom of God.
One morning during my quiet time, I prayed that if I was being poured out as a drink offering to God, I wouldn’t be just wine, I would be champagne! Champagne is a very special, sparkling wine that can only come from a specific place in the world, the Champagne region of northern France[1]. It is traditionally used for celebrations and joyful occasions, and can be quite costly. I wanted God to find such joy in my delighted, exuberant life of vivacious service and celebration of outpouring of love to Him that it was something He would find delicious and intoxicating.
In the days following this prayer I began to research Champagne – both the region and the wine, because I realized I didn’t know very much about it. I figured if that’s what I wanted to be like, I should probably learn about it!
I discovered that the place known for the vineyards and wineries that created celebratory wines used for toasting and parties was also “one of the most blood-soaked and fought-over regions in the world, let alone Europe (Millar, 2014)“. Champagne lay in the path of a main route for any of the many armies marching through eastern France, and as such, experienced much bloodshed and battle. The birthplace of these famous wines endured many vicious wars, many of which have left scars and residual evidence on local architecture and land to this day.
It might seem intuitive that champagne, being such a bubbly, joyous wine, would come from somewhere bright and sunny with fertile soil, but instead the region of Champagne is the most northerly wine-growing region in the world, and as such, is diabolically difficult to produce high or even certain yields of grapes. It is misty, cool, often rainy, and a notoriously capriciously-weathered area. The soils there are known to be exceptionally chalky, dry, poor, and challenging to produce any high yields of crops. That is without mentioning the mildew, various diseases, and pests that also plague local vine growers.
After all these challenges to just growing a vineyard of grapes, the real difficulty begins: Actually creating the wine. The process of producing champagne is highly regulated by French governmental regulations and a bureau specifically designated for the enforcement of strict requirements on things like: when to harvest (a short window of a few weeks), how much they may harvest, the specific type of grapes allowed, how many pressings are allowed, how much juice is allowed, and many other stringent guidelines.
After the bottling is finally complete, the task is far from done: then comes the lengthy wait in the dark. It is estimated that over six hundred miles of tunnels underground were built to cellar the champagne – and it takes about a minimum of year and a half to age to maturity. It is stored in the dim coolness underground in racks, tilted upside down. Every day a vintner carefully turns the bottles by hand. Every single one. They do this so the sediment in the wine will collect in the neck of the bottle and leave the wine clear.
Then the wine is flash-frozen, the tops are popped off, the frozen chunk of ice in the neck with all the sediment is shot out, they add a dose of sugar to increase the bubbling fermentation of the yeast, and it is recorked and recapped tightly to prepare it for labeling and sale.
Then these bottles travel around the corner or around the world, where finally they are given their moment – a joyful celebration! And they are uncorked, poured out, enjoyed, and emptied.
This entire process from vine to empty glass is fascinating to me. I think we can learn a lot from champagne. Through no choice of our own, we may encounter tragic loss, suffering, and grief that leave deep wounds on our hearts and blood in the soil of our lives. Sometimes the neat rows of vines of a peaceful, happy life that we long for actually look more like miles of muddy, embattled trenches scarring the landscape of our years as we face trauma, pain, and struggle.
My children, I want you to understand: Life can be very hard in seasons. Life will bring sorrow and pain. This is not a threat – it’s a promise. “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows,” Jesus said (John 16:33). And Paul declares: “Indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution.” (2 Timothy 3:12) We all cope with the realities of a world marred by sin and death (Romans 5:15), but we also have hope! The sentence above spoken by Jesus was not finished: “In this world you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”
When we place our faith in our lovely and loving Master Gardener, we know that even though a current time seems dark and heavy, we know that He has endured the worst this world had to offer and has emerged victorious, leading the way for us who live keeping our eyes on Him (Hebrews 12:2-3). He was the Man of Sorrows, familiar with our grief (Isaiah 53:3), and He will give us the peace-filled hearts we need, no matter the wars raging outside (John 14:27).
While we may wish for the sunny skies and lush, fertile ground of a blissful, idyllic home environment, we might endure the cold mist of family discord, storms of disappointments or broken hopes, difficult chronic health situations or lack of financial stability. Various things might be in our lives that seem like a plot of harsh, infertile chalk to grow in or like swarms of pests that suck the lifeblood out of us and wither our best efforts. James encourages us to consider such situations as opportunities to experience God’s great joy (James 1:2). Romans encourages, “Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying” (Romans 12:12).
This is not only counter-cultural, it’s counter-natural; which is exactly the point. These situations are allowing us to grow in ways that aren’t according to our humanity but our spirituality. We are given these challenges to practice the Spirit-led joy that will set us apart and mark us as children of God, the brothers and sisters of Christ Jesus (Romans 8:29), who for the joy before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and now sits at the right hand of God the Father (Hebrews 12:2).
We all experience immovable boundaries and “regulations” which we must keep – we are all humans made of flesh: susceptible to flu viruses, heat, cold, the law of gravity, and requirements for food and sleep. Depending on where we live we are also obligated to follow certain rules: driving on a certain side of the street, stopping or going at different colored lights, or being required to undergo a certain amount of education if we expect gainful employment. (And just so I’m very clear, another restriction is that in our country the legal age to drink alcohol is 21 years old. I don’t care how amazing you think my champagne analogy is, you are absolutely not allowed to drink it before then and that’s the final word on that. Boom.)
While in general we understand that these rules are for our overall benefit, it is also not uncommon to feel that they can seem hampering or restrictive at times. God has uniquely chosen each person’s life and the restrictions for it. His loving, all-wise Father’s eyes saw each of you before you were born (Psalm 139), and He decided ahead of time exactly where He would place you in this world, the special gifts and skills you would bring, and the people you would bless (like me!).
He also chose the things that you find challenging, the areas you might need to work really hard on, and the tough situations which would bewilder you. There are no mistakes in His loving plan for you. He looks at you with deep pride and creative joy as an artisan would look at a masterpiece (Eph 2:10, NLT). So take heart, belovedests. You are in His hand, no matter what sort of rigorous matrix of restrictions you may feel hampered by. And that’s truth.
Grapevines produce best when they have been tied up on wires, pruned somewhat stringently, and have endured the heat and the cold of both sun and storms. Wine is more valuable when it is the genuine article, not tampered with varietals that are inferior or methods that rush to make a quick profit. Our Father’s tender care and great knowledge are in force with each of you – He carefully walks the rows of your life, thoughtfully deciding what and when and how would bring the best harvest for both you and Him. The wise vine is one which joyfully submits to the restrictions – from this joy comes the fruit.
Life often is tough. The stresses and challenges put pressure on us. What are we giving out when we experience the weight and the squeezes that will inevitably come? Bitter angst and complaints, stoic grunts of calloused resistance, or bursts of loving trust and hope?
In champagne making, the first press – that in which the grapes release their juice without breaking the skins – is called the cuvee blanc. It is the most delicately aromatic, the most precious, and the most difficult to preserve because of the lack of tannins (the bitter-tasting acidic chemical that delays spoilage), so it is bottled and enjoyed close to the place it was created. (There is a saying that the best wines never leave France.)
The second press breaks the skins of the grapes, releasing the acidic tannins, and this is the pressing that is used to create the majority of sparkling wine that is created for sale and shipment.
The third press is the most acidic of all, and the least flavorful, and is used largely to mix with other juices to provide the tannins they will need to make a decently-bodied wine. Anything left after this third pressing is discarded or used for composting.
Notice that the first pressing is the most precious and the most fragrant: that which the grapes give up freely, sacrificially, joyfully, is of the highest value and also without bitterness. I pray that when you face the crushing weight of life and when you feel you are in a place where you are stressed and pressured, you turn your faces up to God with hope. I pray that in loving trust of His Father’s heart for you, you freely surrender and give up your thanksgiving and worship in that moment. This is what “the sacrifice of praise” means. “Giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me,” God says (Ps. 50:23, NLT).
The more we resist the challenges and the difficulties with hardened hearts, the more bitterness leaches into our lives, ultimately rendering them undrinkable and worth little to anyone. The worship from your heart given in these moments is like a choice cuvee blanc – it is fragrant, pure, and very precious to our Father.
There will be seasons of your life where you feel you have been firmly and irrevocably stuck in the dark and upside down, for an indeterminate time. Yet you must remember: you are never forgotten or left alone. Each day the Master’s hand is there with you in the dark, turning you, noticing you, and carefully and expertly caring for you.
Sometimes the sediment of our selfish hearts, sinful habits, or the clutter of our daily lives creates a murkiness that needs to be purified so that we can have what our Father longs for us to have: a clear, delightful, focused relationship with Him. This brings a fullness of joy that nothing can steal (Psalm 16:11). Sometimes this focus can only come about by a period of being upside down in the dark.
By submitting to this cleansing process and actively agreeing to surrender the “things that hinder and the sins that entangle” (Heb 12:1) we will be exceptionally joyful ourselves because we will be fulfilling what we were inherently created for – enjoying God and reflecting Him and His glory. Being joyful and patient in the dark is a way of telling God you love Him. It is declaring your trust in Him. It is proclaiming that you agree that He is faithful to complete and bring to perfection the work He began in you (Phil 1:6).
My chickadees, if you could only understand the utter beauty of a life lived in joyful loving surrender and trust to our King! It creates a thing of finest worth and clear brilliance, fully delightful and bubbling with joy. Our lives are not our own, and we are not promised tomorrow. Make the offering of your life one of such extravagant joyful faith in Him that He is utterly delighted and intoxicated by your love, proud and pleased to taste the exquisite vintage you have made with Him.
Here’s to lives of deep joy poured out for our King!
Cheers.
Mom
[1] Many other countries create sparkling wines, but the Champagne region in France has trademarked the appellation “Champagne” so that only wines from this specific region are allowed to use this name.
Once long ago, on this night, there was a large group of people who were waiting to be set free (Exodus 12:37). Their belongings were hastily packed and stacked around them. Wearing their coats and sandals, they ate their last meal in the houses of their slavery, waiting for the signal to begin their escape. You know this story, it is a story we read and speak of often. Tonight we celebrated it with a special meal and customs passed down from long ago, as well as our own special family traditions which you anticipate and enjoy so much.
Why do I make such a point to emphasize this old tale? Why do your dad and I so carefully explain the history and circumstances of a people far removed from us by place and time? Why is this old narrative something I get so passionate about? Because, my loves, I fiercely believe it is our story as well.
This people group had spent years – hundreds of years – in a country far from the one their forefathers had called home. They had forgotten, except for a few old tales, about the Eternal, Perfect, All-Powerful Spirit-Being their ancestors had known and worshipped, and had turned to the now-familiar gods of the people around them, accepting what was widely held as truth. They had come to accept as truth that they were a people enslaved, that there was no way to change their current situation. They “ate the bread of adversity and drank the water of affliction” (Isaiah 30:20) and couldn’t imagine anything different because their lives were so miserable.
Then a man had come from the desert, a shepherd who had once been a prince, with a strange yet astonishingly wonderful story about a God who knew them, heard them, and wanted them to be set free and taken back to the fertile homeland He had first promised their forefathers.
After many powerful acts showing that this God was superior and more powerful than any other deity they had ever heard about or could imagine, they and the rest of the nation were waiting, in both dread and awe, for the final demonstration of His might. They had been warned to prepare for a quick departure, and also given instructions on how to escape the devastating loss that would sweep through the land before they left: only by painting the blood of a lamb over their doorposts would the Death Angel pass over their homes.
My dearest lovebugs, always remember this: Freedom is not free. Not then, not now. Blood (a sacrificial death) was the price of their liberty. Any who chose to follow the instructions were spared, regardless of ethnic origin or class rank. All who did not received the consequence promised, and the screams of grief and mourning wails were heard in every single house of those who did not obey (Exodus 12:1-30).
As the people left, they rejoiced and celebrated. They followed a leader, a guide who had once been royalty but was now a humble shepherd. They were led by columns of fire and cloud – which led them to – and then through – a swirling sea by way of a dry path created for them till they were on the other side. They traversed a pitiless desert, dependent only on this strange God who gave them bread from the sky and water from rocks (Psalm 78:15-25). This new reality was the stuff of dreams – and yet the people who had witnessed His power and seen His provision kept rejecting the One who had saved them to seek out the things which reminded them of what they had left behind. They became known more for their complaining and grumbling than for their celebration, gratitude or obedience.
Later, they were given the gift of knowing how to rightly serve and please the incomprehensibly perfect God who had saved them by His might and power. They were entrusted with the requirements and regulations that told them how to live to be right and able to stay near to God (Exodus 20). The people once again heard how only the blood of an unblemished sacrifice could restore them to freedom – this time from the guilt of any wrongdoing. In this law there was a strict admonition: “Have nothing to do with a false charge and do not put an innocent or honest person to death, for I will not acquit the guilty” (Exodus 23:7, NIV), and this law was taught to their children and passed down through generations.
Then, long ago today, hundreds and hundreds of years later, a weary, bruised man faced an angry throng who were on the verge of rioting. As Jesus of Nazareth stood bound and silent before a raging mob, exhausted from his sleepless night of agonized prayer, disfigured and battered from the relentless interrogation and abuse from his captors (Luke 22:63-65), the region’s governor, Pilate, asked those calling for Jesus’ death to recognize his innocence (Luke 23:16-22). Pilate was baffled by the crowd’s insistence on death by crucifixion for a man who had done nothing wrong.
“His blood be on us, and on our children!” The enraged mob screamed it, almost flippantly, back at Pilate – the pagan Roman – who found himself arguing with a group of conservative religious Jewish people to persuade them to let him set an innocent Jewish rabbi free. Instead they roared back to condemn him to the most savage, brutal death sentence the Roman Empire had imagined, reserved for the worst of criminals. And they declared with hubris their willingness to accept the guilt of slaughtering the innocent – even to the point of punishing their grandchildren’s children. The scene is surreal to imagine, let alone read as truth in the Bible (Matthew 27:15-26).
Yet these are the descendants of the same people who had been freed from slavery and given a clear and clean law to follow so that they could rightly honor the holy God who had set them free. These are the same people who were about to go home to their houses to kill lambs and celebrate a festival of freedom. With their families they would recite the story of how the blood over the door exempted their forefathers from death, allowing them to walk free from the land of their brutal and oppressive taskmasters. They would relate with gusto the various ways God had punished their oppressors, and describe how they found hope and a future in a new home where they could live and thrive – the land promised by the God of their forefathers, a God of faithfulness, enduring love, and mercy.
Jesus, the perfect Lamb of God, was condemned to die by a heartless, cruel mob of people, who had no comprehension that His innocent blood was indeed meant to cover them from eternal death. They were unable to understand that His willing sacrifice was the initial step in an epic journey to freedom. They were unable to conceive a life lived surrendered to a law of love rather than a law of judgment, and thus were deafened to the truth He offered.
The people screaming for His death were as enslaved as their ancestors were, chained to a life of constant defeat under sin and the eternal condemnation it brings. They were as much slaves as the Hebrews in Egypt centuries earlier were, except worse: they deliberately renounced the One who came to free them and bring them to a place of perfect reconciliation and loving intimacy with Him. It was as if another Prince-turned-Shepherd had come to lead them to freedom toward a Promised Land of eternal life of peace and joy, but this time they unequivocally rejected and then violently murdered him.
My darlings, it may seem so easy to judge both the former slaves and also the raging mob. In our condescension we can become a little smug. What I really hope you realize is what I said before: this is our story too.
The Israelites and the multitude who came with them out of Egypt were marked by a loss of identity and uncontrolled appetites. They had forgotten who they were as a people, called and set apart to serve the One true God, and became enmeshed in the culture and unquestioning acceptance of the world around them. In their time in the desert they usually chose discontentment instead of joyful trust in the provision that their Savior chose for them, and often only focused on gratifying their fleshly desires and cravings.
We are so often like those former slaves – set free in body yet still bound in mentality. We become forgetful of who we are and Whose we are. We become easily distracted and caught up in the things and circumstances around us. We look for fulfillment and purpose in the stories the world tells us, and ignore the one Story that tells Truth. We believe ourselves entitled to instant gratification of natural or physical desires when we ought to look to our Creator for His provision and sustaining hand as we learn patience and discipline. We forget the bigger picture of a mighty Savior who has declared us to be His and then came Himself to bring us out so we may worship Him and know Him. We are called to worship, but come to complain.
Those people who were set free had sand in their shoes from the dry bottom of the Red Sea and drank water that gushed from a rock. They ate and were satisfied from flakes of bread collected from the ground. If they could so quickly doubt and complain after these experiences, we need to ask ourselves honestly and humbly if we could do better.
We too are given the opportunity to be God’s holy people, a people who follow Him and obey Him with all that we have. We too have the beautiful promise of intimacy with the loving Creator-Being who gave everything to set us free, yet how often do we cheat on Him with anything and everything else that demands our time, energy, or love? Especially when the other things seem to provide emotional satisfaction or quick comfort. We too forsake genuine truth for shallow quips, lasting joy for fleeting pleasure.
We can also be like the angry crowd. Consumed by pride and self-love, we too become defensive and angry by any exposure of our sinfulness. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote that we never quite forgive someone who gives us a gift, because it means they have seen a lack[1]. This is offensive to our natural pride and desire to appear entirely self-sustained and adequate. In this case, we (often even secretly from ourselves) find it galling to admit our need for a Savior, and become angry at any acknowledgment of our depth of insufficiency.
We are like the crowd also in that we are frequently fearful. We fear what others think, we fear uncertainty, we fear fully trusting in a God who might behave unexpectedly and without our control or approval. We fear being isolated from other broken, fleshly people in our pursuit of a perfect, eternal God, and we fear pain. We shrink from experiencing the hurt that others’ sinful choices create for us. We recoil from having our Great Physician clean and treat our diseased hearts or set our brokenness straight because of the discomfort (and sometimes severe anguish) we may feel.
Like the crowd, we too can become flippant and cavalier about the cost our sin requires, and, hurting, angry, and fearful, believe that we understand what the actual price is and scream defiantly: “His blood be on us, and on our children!”
The guilt of His innocent death is required of us, yet in His incomprehensible love and sacrifice He cancelled the debt for that sin (and every other) by covering the cost with His life. The irony is that we need His blood on us, both as a condemnation of our guilt and as a complete pardon. We are not innocent. He is. His blood should be painted over the doorways of our lives – deliberate and obvious to us and any observer that we have chosen to accept His sacrifice on our behalf. We should be living in such a way that our lives are an open testament to our choice to follow the God who frees us. We should clearly walk the path He leads us on, deciding by our pursuit of Him to avoid the death that sin brings: the separation of relationship with the God who gave everything to be near us.
Our King became a carpenter, who later became a Shepherd of men, to at last become the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. The veil in the temple that separated sinful man from the Unfathomably Holiest Being of all was torn on this day from the top down, right after Jesus died (Matthew 27:51, Luke 23:45). Our God, our King, our Savior became our Guide, not only through life in a broken and hurting world, but also through death.
My lovelies, we are truly free. We truly belong. We are truly invited to experience a life with the most winsome, wonderful, powerful and loving God of all eternity, for all eternity. Thanks be to God, our Savior, for His blood that was shed for you and me (1 John 1:7).
We celebrate the Passover not because it is only a tradition or just a reminder of how God set His chosen people free from Egypt, but to remember that God has set us free from sin, fear, and eternal separation from Him. Our Passover Lamb was given to us in the form of Jesus Christ, and that is cause for both solemn remembrance and great celebration. No matter what we face, no matter what seas, deserts, mountains, fortresses, battles, plagues, or hardships may come, we know that He is with us and He has gone before us. He will be our Guide – even through death (Psalm 48:14) – and we will someday reach the New Jerusalem, the true Promised Land, our eternal home (Revelation 21:2).
I can’t wait to celebrate with you there.
With all my love, Mom
[1] Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Gifts”, in Emerson’s Essays. pg. 279. Avenel, New Jersey: Random House, 1993.
