Tag: Easter

  • When My Daughter Told Me She’s Awful {an Easter story}

    When My Daughter Told Me She’s Awful {an Easter story}

    My daughter stared at me with a stoic stare, “No, I’m not,” she said, “I’m awful.”

    Fear ran through my veins hearing these words come out of my six-year-old girl’s mouth. Her response to my praise, “You’re such a good girl, do you know that?” made my mind swirl with what I should say next. Do I argue with her to convince her that she’s not awful? Do I reprimand her with, “I never want to hear you talk about yourself like that again!” Or maybe I dig deep to get to the source of who or what put these thoughts in her head?

    “Really? Why are you awful?” That’s what I came up with.

    “Because of my sin,” she replied matter-of-fact.

    At this point my fear turned to gratefulness, as crazy as that sounds. I knew I needed to do some work to help her understand that her sin is awful but that she is good, however, one of my prayers for my daughter has been that she recognizes that she is a sinner. I knew that until she came to the realization that she’s a sinner she couldn’t come to the realization that she needs a Savior.

    When we moved into Rodgers Manor, as I like to call it, not only did we inherit a Victorian home but about an acre or so of gardens came with it. It’s really beautiful. Two years ago we moved here, and up until now, I haven’t wanted anything to do with gardening. What you need to know about me is that I’m a city girl. Like growing up and even until I got married I lived where there was a grocery store a mile to my right and another grocery store a mile to my left. My garden was a concrete jungle. I kid you not. Getting my hands dirty even to gain something as beautiful as hydrangeas and roses wasn’t worth it to me.

    This year something changed. I don’t know what exactly, but I regularly weed and prune. I even like it, including the dirt caked under my nails. The girls help me weed the gardens, and this is where I took it with my daughter.

    What is your favorite flower?” I asked her. She told me a pink rose. I’m guessing that’s the only flower she knows well. “Imagine that you are a tiny rose seed. God plants you deep in the soil. He takes care of you, giving you water and sunlight. You grow taller. Your pink pedals stretch wider and wider. God looks at you and thinks that you are the most beautiful rose He’s ever seen.

    Then something starts to grow all around you and up your stem. It tries to strangle you and take you over so that you’re no longer beautiful. These are the weeds, like the weeds in our garden. Weeds are like sin in our lives. Sin wants to take over our lives leading us further and further from Jesus.

    But Jesus is like our Master Gardener. When Jesus died on the Cross He made it possible for all those weeds, all that sin, to be cut away – just like we pull the weeds out of our garden and cut them away from our flowers.

    But what happens in our garden? Do the weeds stay away? No, they come back. And our sin comes back, too, because we have a sin nature. Just like we can’t get rid of the weeds in our garden forever, we won’t be perfect and without sin, until we get to heaven.

    However, this is the good news – Jesus’ death on the Cross makes it possible for us to one day be perfect with Him in heaven. And until then? His blood covers us in righteousness. So, sweet girl, you are not awful. Your sin is awful just like my sin is awful. But you are very, very good. Jesus looks at you and smiles. You’re His beautiful rose.”

    Yes, our sin is awful, and apart from Jesus, we are awful people. But there’s Good News … this Easter meditate on Jesus’ blood literally covering your body. This is His blanket of protection over us which makes us righteous and new in His eyes. Weeds will always come, but Jesus’ blood allows them to be removed. Then, seeing Him face-to-face in heaven one day will make us completely holy as He is completely holy.

    As I tell my girls, when Jesus was being nailed to that Cross, He was saying your name. He was saying each name of every person who ever had lived and ever would live on this earth. Praise be to God!

    Happy Easter!

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  • Weekend Prayers and Links

    May I ask, when did every season of the year become busy? Growing up it seemed that there were only two busy times – back-to-school and Christmas. The rest of the year was ordinary and slow.

    It’s only February, nothing important has happened for two months, and yet I feel like I am gasping for rest. Even when I have restful times, I’m not truly resting. My mind is jumping to the next chore, project, or event.

    Mark 6-31

     

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  • Weekend Prayers and Links

    Can I just tell you that Lent completely snuck up on me this year. I mean, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but as I scrolled through my Facebook feed yesterday I saw a post about Ash Wednesday and had to remember what day it was and if THIS Wednesday was the Wednesday they were talking about. It was.

    Can I also admit I immediately felt burdened by it? Easter is my favorite holiday, truthfully, not in a “I just want to be different” sort-of way, so I love that in less than 40 days it will be here. But, right now I’m exhausted. I’m bogged down with so much life stuff that I feel like I can’t give Lent one ounce of me.

    This is partly because I am in Bible Study Fellowship which is great, and I’ve recommended it so many times, but it is intensive weekly Bible study. There’s no extra time in this toddler mom’s days for a Lent study, too.

    So what do I do? I start a Lent study anyway, of course – She Reads Truth to be exact.  I don’t know why I do this to myself. Sometimes I wonder if it’s to subconsciously set myself up for failure.

    Galatians 5-1

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  • When Godly People Do Ungodly Things

    For several months now I’ve been struggling with reliving parts of my past. The memories come rapid-fire – so fast that I can’t stop them. And they come at the most insignificant times. Like standing in the check-out line at the grocery store. Suddenly I’m a 29-year-old sitting in my apartment texting that guy over and over again who obviously wasn’t “the one”. Or I’m remembering this most painful relationship or these that came afterwards. Each of these memories leave me with this anchor of shame that I can’t shake easily. The questions rise up, again, and one in particular. I ask, “How did I let this happen? How could I have done such ungodly things?”

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  • What if Jesus Was All that Mattered?

    I have always been very blessed with really good health. I am so grateful. But two weekends ago I had a cold. I’m not talking just an average cold; I’m talking an epic cold where my nose flowed like a river all night long. Before this epic cold I’ve never had to get up to blow my nose in the middle of the night. And don’t get me started on sleep. There was none.

    Maybe it’s because I don’t get sick often and I’m just a baby (actually I’m sure that’s what it is), but I felt like I was going to die. And while I laid there thinking about how miserable I felt and how I might possibly be the first person to die from the common cold, I realized how nothing else in the world – and I mean nothing – mattered except for getting better.

    What if Jesus Was All that Mattered file000657374159.jpg

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  • Thoughts from a Newbie Lent Observer

    I didn’t have this post planned for today, and so I’m writing it in the middle of the afternoon planning to hit “publish” as soon as I’m finished. I typically try to be a little more prepared with my writing, but this one just came to me this morning as I sat down and realized: Today starts Lent.

    I grew up in a Baptist church and have attended nondenominational churches ever since, so “Lent” was not really ever recognized in my world – nor was Advent. It’s only been in the past several years that I have come to appreciate these special times of the year as we prepare for Jesus’s coming and for His death and resurrection. Which is why I write this post.

    Photo Credit: Creative Commons:  Tim Green aka atoach
    Photo Credit: Creative Commons: Tim Green aka atoach

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