Aha! Moments
I have recently began to find it interesting how God himself seems to tell us when something is about to happen in our lives. It isn't always big things; in fact, it's often small matters - personal, spiritual "AHA" moments. When we look back from those moments we can see the footprints of God leading up to them.
Case in point: I've been reading a book lately called Humility: True Greatness by C.J. Mahaney. In Humility, Mahaney asserts that as Christians our every purpose should be to bring glory to God, and that anytime we allow glory to be cast on ourselves we defeat our purpose. I totally agreed with this sentiment...before I started reading the book. As I read, I began to see the pride in my own life - both in the obvious places and in the hidden ones. I was convicted.
Conviction stinks. It eats at you until you do something about it. So I repented and - feeling okay about it - went on my merry little way.
Then I had a run-in with my pride again, only this time I was "justified" because I was insulted by someone else. I humphed and groused and even patted myself on the back for handling it with grace. I'm a real dope, sometimes.
You see, I then came across a chapter in the book that talks about how true humility comes from recognizing God's grace at work in others' lives instead of passing judgment and complaining about them. Ouch. That stung.
Then in my Bible study, I came across a passage in I Peter 2 that talks Christ's response to ill treatment: he didn't complain or lash out or retaliate in any way. It also reminded me that I am to show respect to all people and to love God's family. Ouch again.
The final step toward the AHA moment came during the mid-week sermon on gentleness. Gentleness, it seems, is loving and understanding and full of grace that is given to others because grace has been given to us by our Father. Okay, God...I think I've got it now. Like I said, sometimes I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
As I resolved the situation - which was completely borne of my own erroneous take on an off-handed comment - I thought to myself, now I can sleep well tonight. Little did I know.
You see, for the second time in a single day, I had another one of those moments. (I guess technically you could say it's a different day, but work with me here. I haven't slept yet.) I came home, I put the boys to bed, and after they were asleep, I tucked myself in for some quality Serta-appreciation time. However, it didn't happen. I tossed and turned and turned and tossed and tried to read and prayed some, but sleep would not come. As 4:00 a.m. rolled by I was getting exasperated: come on, Lord, I thought, I have stuff to do today and I need some rest.
Then I heard it. The creaking of a door and the oh-so-quiet footsteps of a child who doesn't want to be discovered. I listened for a minute, then I silently got out of my bed and - thanking God for squeaky pocket doors - moved down the hallway to scope out the mischief that was afoot. Sure enough, there was Opie, with both feet firmly planted in the red zone. He was well and truly busted, and he knew it. All he could do was turn around and grab on for dear life and say "Hug, Mama." (He still thinks that will get him out of the jams of his own making.) "I was looking for you," he says. I reminded him that in the middle of the night, I'm usually in my bed, so that's the first place he should look.
After we discussed what he was doing and why it was a bad idea, I gently kissed him good night and tucked him back in, stroking his head until he went to sleep. And I as I did, I thanked God that he had kept me awake in order to keep my child safe. I also thanked him for never sleeping and always watching over me and my family. Humility reminded me that I can't keep my children safe - not really. I can try, but realistically the only safety my family has is in the hands of the almighty, omniscient and omnipresent God.
And once again I said "Aha!" Now I'm going to bed to sleep soundly.
Case in point: I've been reading a book lately called Humility: True Greatness by C.J. Mahaney. In Humility, Mahaney asserts that as Christians our every purpose should be to bring glory to God, and that anytime we allow glory to be cast on ourselves we defeat our purpose. I totally agreed with this sentiment...before I started reading the book. As I read, I began to see the pride in my own life - both in the obvious places and in the hidden ones. I was convicted.
Conviction stinks. It eats at you until you do something about it. So I repented and - feeling okay about it - went on my merry little way.
Then I had a run-in with my pride again, only this time I was "justified" because I was insulted by someone else. I humphed and groused and even patted myself on the back for handling it with grace. I'm a real dope, sometimes.
You see, I then came across a chapter in the book that talks about how true humility comes from recognizing God's grace at work in others' lives instead of passing judgment and complaining about them. Ouch. That stung.
Then in my Bible study, I came across a passage in I Peter 2 that talks Christ's response to ill treatment: he didn't complain or lash out or retaliate in any way. It also reminded me that I am to show respect to all people and to love God's family. Ouch again.
The final step toward the AHA moment came during the mid-week sermon on gentleness. Gentleness, it seems, is loving and understanding and full of grace that is given to others because grace has been given to us by our Father. Okay, God...I think I've got it now. Like I said, sometimes I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
As I resolved the situation - which was completely borne of my own erroneous take on an off-handed comment - I thought to myself, now I can sleep well tonight. Little did I know.
You see, for the second time in a single day, I had another one of those moments. (I guess technically you could say it's a different day, but work with me here. I haven't slept yet.) I came home, I put the boys to bed, and after they were asleep, I tucked myself in for some quality Serta-appreciation time. However, it didn't happen. I tossed and turned and turned and tossed and tried to read and prayed some, but sleep would not come. As 4:00 a.m. rolled by I was getting exasperated: come on, Lord, I thought, I have stuff to do today and I need some rest.
Then I heard it. The creaking of a door and the oh-so-quiet footsteps of a child who doesn't want to be discovered. I listened for a minute, then I silently got out of my bed and - thanking God for squeaky pocket doors - moved down the hallway to scope out the mischief that was afoot. Sure enough, there was Opie, with both feet firmly planted in the red zone. He was well and truly busted, and he knew it. All he could do was turn around and grab on for dear life and say "Hug, Mama." (He still thinks that will get him out of the jams of his own making.) "I was looking for you," he says. I reminded him that in the middle of the night, I'm usually in my bed, so that's the first place he should look.
After we discussed what he was doing and why it was a bad idea, I gently kissed him good night and tucked him back in, stroking his head until he went to sleep. And I as I did, I thanked God that he had kept me awake in order to keep my child safe. I also thanked him for never sleeping and always watching over me and my family. Humility reminded me that I can't keep my children safe - not really. I can try, but realistically the only safety my family has is in the hands of the almighty, omniscient and omnipresent God.
And once again I said "Aha!" Now I'm going to bed to sleep soundly.