We Sing for Those Who Can’t

I can’t sing. Well, at least not without crying. Not always sad tears, but usually there’s some form of lament residing. It began as the day we would leave our church in New York loomed closer. Call me sentimental, but I kept imagining Sundays without our family there, surrounding me, voices lifted high in praise to the King. And without fail, the tears would come. So I’d just smile and listen. And the sound…it was glorious. Sometimes I could identify voices, but mostly it was the collective song that moved me to tears. Their joy was my joy. Their sorrow, mine as well. We were together. Their voices were one in agreement that Jesus is King. Whatever our lot, it is well with our souls.

Then we left, and Sundays weren’t the same. We’d gather with a wonderful, albeit temporary for us, body and I’d wonder what my family in New York were doing. What songs were they singing? What were their prayer requests? What were they sharing during praise and sharing time? Communion suddenly felt strange…without our body with us, partaking together. But the singing. It’s always the singing that beckons the tears.

There are a lot of deep theological reasons to sing corporately every week I’m sure…but lately when my family gathers with another unfamiliar body of believers and they all begin to sing, my voice cracks and my watery companions arrive again. As I’ve attempted to sing amongst strangers (and yet still brothers and sisters), I have have learned that sometimes, these fellow followers of Jesus are unknowingly singing on my behalf. And if everyone who hated the music portion of a Sunday morning were to skip it, or keep their mouths shut, those of us who can’t sing for the moment would be alone in our silence.

Sometimes, we just have to sing for those who can’t. We raise our voice for those who are unable to find theirs, for a season or for this side of eternity. We sing for the woman who lost her husband and is struggling to find joy in anything other than the deep guttural trust that Jesus is king. We sing for the student feeling utterly alone in a new place, unable to swallow the lump of loneliness in her throat. We sing for the family who has lost a baby and can’t form the words or find the tune just yet. We gather to sing praise, and as we raise our voices, we lift our downtrodden bothers and sisters. We carry their heartache with our melody. We fill their painful silence with both lamenting and rejoicing, and remind them that they too will sing again one day.

But in the meantime they are welcome to wait. Listen and be washed in the words of truth. Their hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. In times of trouble, they might not be able to say it, but they definitely need to hear it.

So from a former pastor’s wife who cries on Sunday mornings, show up and sing my friends.  You never know who needs your voice to be theirs before the Father.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

 

Advertisements

Gifts in the Temporary

There might be no greater privilege than for one who follows Jesus to leave everything to become a missionary. Particularly spending the time building a team of partners who pray and give in order to send people out with the Gospel to those who don’t know him. I don’t think I could have said this prior to this season, but I now know it to be true. I looked at “raising support” with fear and anxiety, but as we’ve witnessed the Lord answer specific prayers and raise up not just a team, but an army to surround us with prayer and provide the financial means with which to fulfill this calling on our lives, I am in awe.

We’ve been given so many evidences of His grace, I can’t even begin to describe them all. And even if I were to relay them to you, I’m not sure you would find them as sweet, because just as a gift is most often intended for a specific recipient, these gifts were meant for us. If I ever doubt his call on our lives, I have many proofs upon which to call to regain my assurance and move forward yet again in obedience and faith.

Amidst vast amounts of meetings and raising children, James and I have had to divide and conquer often, which means he does most of the official ministry partner development, and I basically keep our kids alive. We’re often tired, someone is usually sick, and we’ve had more sleep disruptions in the past two months than we have for years (not counting newborn stage because whew! that’s always the worst.) But we are grateful. We spend a lot of time together as an entire family, my kids spend almost every evening with grandparents and often aunts and uncles and cousins. We meet people we never would have otherwise who love Jesus and happily partner with us to spread the Gospel in Albuquerque among college students and, Lord willing, the whole city. We connect with old friends and visit the zoo and the pool and worship with a new (albeit somewhat temporary) church family. We cover my parents driveway with chalk and meet their neighbors. We live our fairly ordinary life.

And all the while we miss our friends. We talk of our people in New York often. Remind ourselves of fun stories. Our kids tell their biological grandparents about times they spent with people who adopted them as grandkids, and they have no idea how unique and special that is. I’ve been known to tear up on Sunday mornings knowing our church family is gathering without us now. Not having the freedom to truly put down roots yet and cherish a new church family because we have one more move ahead of us. And yet we have sweet friendships in a church here who are willing to take us in and love us and our kids, knowing full well we’ll leave them soon. That in and of itself is priceless.

The Lord is so very faithful, and for every ache and tearful memory, there are gifts and encouragements that can only be from above. We left a neighborhood that was so very precious to us, and the Lord has provided a house for us that will be one yard away from being backyard neighbors with our new Cru teammates. We left friends who were like family, and the Lord has been providing many connections with people before we even arrive.

As the sun begins to set on this temporary season and we can see glimmers of our new life dawning over the horizon (looks like we’ll be moving at the beginning of August, Lord willing, after we close on our house!), we are reminded yet again to treasure every moment and enjoy our time here in the temporary. We praise Jesus for his faithfulness to provide as we’ve obeyed, and we look forward with expectant faith to what he’ll do as his children (not just us) take up their crosses and follow Him to the ends of the earth.

Even to Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Unseen Fruit of Foster Care

I removed the sheet, folded it, and thought of the babies I’d prayed for that never slept here. I wondered aloud why we worked so hard to get our foster care license in New York when God would then have us move across the country to start again. As I boxed up this little sanctuary we’d set up for babies in crisis situations beyond their control, I thought of young women and men bringing little lives into the world and having no idea how to care for them, wondering still what my role is in this fight for the value of all lives—unborn, terminally ill, black, white, old and alone, young and vibrant, full of life. All life has value, because we are created in the image of God.

Why did we go through all the work, jump through the hoops of becoming foster parents to then never get a call? I’m not sure, but we do know God is continually working in and through us. Here are a few things I’ve learned.

say-yes-to-god

Saying YES to God in the hard things is more important than my comfort. We didn’t have an extra room, a lot of extra time, extra money or even patience, but when it’s all said and done, all of those things are God’s anyway, and if he asks us to care for orphans and our fellow brothers and sisters in distress, that trumps my desire for a little more alone time or a few extra dollars for a vacation or my favorite latte. God asked us to merely say yes in this instance. Our obedience mattered more than the end result.

If we truly value the life of the unborn, we will value their lives once born. We need to be the first people women call when they need help caring for the children they chose to bring into the world. When a woman chooses to keep her baby in the midst of circumstances that caused her to consider abortion, she’ll need help. I don’t want to be a woman who desires to take the babies away from these women thinking I can give them a better life. I want to empower women (and men) to care for their children. To love them. I will be their cheerleader, prayer warrior, middle-of-the-night phone answerer when their baby won’t stop crying and they don’t know why. We will be there. Not in some nameless anonymous way. I want these women to know my name. To have my phone number. To know our door is always open and a safe place of refuge in their distress.

I don’t need to protect my kids from the hard things of this world. Yesterday I quietly watched my daughters playing. They have incredible imaginations and usually embody some princess or queen and invite me to tea or a fancy picnic. However, yesterday they walked through the house, arm in arm, discussing their plans for the day. They were going to the foster care place to take care of a baby who needed a home. My babies know the world is not as it should be. And they also know they can do something about it. Caring for children who need a home is already instinctively in them, because James and I have said we will be there. We’ve made it a precedent for our family from the very beginning. The idea of opening our home is so normal it’s part of their every day play.

If you care about ending human trafficking, becoming foster and adoptive parents is a front lines way to fight it. Kids who age out of the “system” have no family. No one to care for them. They are vulnerable to schemes and tricks that promise connection, community, and security but instead deliver them straight into the arms of evil. Read this article and many more like it for a more harrowing look into this reality.

We will not give up. We are moving to a state with some of the fewest restrictions on abortion in the entire country. We will be living in a city where homelessness, crime, drugs and addiction are rampant.  You won’t find me holding a sign outside of an abortion clinic, but Lord willing, you will find me on campus talking to young women. Praying with them. Asking questions. Offering my love, help, hope and even my home. All are welcome. No need is too great. No hurt is too deep. Jesus heals all wounds.

So sitting here, staring at the stripped mattress and empty crib, I know being certified foster parents in the state of New York didn’t produce immediate fruit we can see.

But that doesn’t mean it was fruitless.

fruit

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. 
I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them. (Psalm 139:13-16, ESV)

 

Minimalism Is Still About Your Stuff

image-1

“I had everything I’d ever wanted. And yet, it still wasn’t enough. I still had this gaping whole in me, that I had been unable to fulfill by accumulating more and more stuff….”

………………………..

I had every intention of finishing the book I’ve been reading this evening. James was at our friends’ house, the kids were in bed, it was a much anticipated quiet end to a rather chaotic and crabby day. However upon his arrival home, he settled in to watch a (what I hoped would be boring so I could keep reading) documentary whose title alone made me put down my book and pay attention.

“Minimalism: A Documentary about the Important Things”

It’s on Netflix, so go ahead and watch it (after you finish reading this of course.)

We live in a pretty small house with 3 young kids, and I do fantasize about throwing every random small misplaced and broken (yet desperately loved!) toy away multiple times a day. We’ve never accumulated a vast amount of possessions, due in part to our relatively small living circumstances, and yet I’ve always been fascinated with the ability to just live with less. So Longbourn, you’ll have to wait for another quiet night.

As the men shared stories about life before their conversion to minimalism, instead of being excited to purge my house of even more toys, clothes, and books (Wait..no. Never the books) my heart grew heavy for these men. It genuinely surprised them when they realized their life of career, status and consumerism didn’t bring them the true happiness they craved. They had everything they wanted. And it wasn’t enough.

So naturally, they decided, the opposite must be true. Getting rid of all that extra stuff that left the promise of happiness unfulfilled will certainly fill that whole eating away at them inside. And it might. For a while.

It’s noble and I definitely understand and embrace the premise. But what these men failed to notice was that their identity still revolved around their stuff. “We are the minimalists.” Their whole message is about finding true happiness, not in having stuff, but now in NOT having stuff. It’s just the negative of the same image. Just as the accumulation of wealth leaves one feeling satisfied for a time, the dissolution of wealth and accumulated goods will indeed leave one feeling happy. For a time. But it won’t last.  The hunger will always return.

The documentary had at least one scientist (I can’t remember his exact title) who actually theorized that the biological need for more must stem from our ancestors who needed it to survive. We continue to crave more and more, but the accumulating of that “more” can never satisfy because for some reason we no longer need that biological urge for survival. I’m sure in his science-y lingo it made sense. But it’s just. not. true.

We do, as human beings, certainly have this inner craving. We all have this hole that we try to fill. You might deny it or not even see it, but deep down, underneath layers of things, clothing, gadgets, knowledge, exercise, food, sex, houses, money, experiences, it’s there. We feel…incomplete. So we better ourselves. We make sure we “self-care.” We surround ourselves with people who agree with us. We spend all our time helping other people. We fight for our political beliefs at the expense of friendships. We get rid of all of our stuff. Why? Because there’s something missing.

We are trying to fulfill a chasm in our soul caused by an ancient, severed relationship, and on our own, we are completely incapable of doing so. Without our trust in Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, our relationship with the God of heaven and earth, beginning and end, Alpha and Omega, will be broken. We will feel the dull ache for more. Contentment will eternally be just beyond reach. That longing you feel will only be fulfilled in Jesus. Not in accumulating things, nor in the abdication of that accumulation.

So by all means, remove the clutter from your lives. Get rid of things you don’t need. But also remember, “Sometimes all simplicity does is mask our pride and self-dependence. If we take a great deal of satisfaction in how little we need, in how much we reject abundance, simplicity becomes nothing more than an asceticism that, as theologian J. I. Packer puts it, is ‘too proud to enjoy the enjoyable.” (Hannah Anderson, Humble Roots)

You were meant to enjoy God, and life with Him. No matter how hard you try, nothing else will ever satisfy.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. 11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.  (John 10:10-15, ESV)

image-1-3

Looking Back before Looking Forward

As many are forcing pen to paper today to name and claim their goals for 2017, I want to take a minute to reflect on 2016. It’s been a big year for the Pruch family to say the least. As I scroll through my social scrapbook (AKA Instagram), I am reminded of many instances of God’s clear provision, answer, direction and movement as we sought him.

The seasons our family experienced in 2016 seemed to coincide with the actual ones, changing as the weather outside reminded us that for better or worse, no season lasts forever. Winter to spring, summer to fall in perpetual rotation constantly pointing us to the One greater than us, keeping the world and our individual lives in motion. Here we are in winter yet again, fittingly sad but looking toward spring with expectant hearts.

Winter: It was in January of 2016 that we stood before our church family and announced that James would not be applying for the senior pastor position. We didn’t know what was next for us (we didn’t even have an inkling) but we sensed the Lord directing in this way. We asked for prayer that as we moved forward God would lead and guide our steps. Little did we know the year would end with us knowing exactly where we were going, the Lord faithfully showing up meeting after meeting to provide the means to supply this calling.

Spring: We offered to take in a newborn girl while her parents went through some rough stuff.  Nothing came of it, so we did what we could to make our home an official place of rest and security for kids in circumstances beyond their control. To date we still have not received a call for a foster placement, which goes to show that just by becoming a certified foster parent, your home will not turn into a boarding house overrun by craziness in one night.

Summer: We began to sense that it was time for us to start earnestly start seeking the Lord as to where we were to go next as a family. We prayed (and prayed…and prayed) and took steps to investigate a few options, but ultimately truly felt peace about becoming full-time missionaries to colleges students with Cru.

Fall: we announced our decision to leave Grace Chapel and began the work of seeking out partners to join our ministry team. I had no idea what a blessing this process would be. Refining, redeeming, humbling, and full of sweet evidences of grace that we would not otherwise be privy to witness.

Winter again: It’s our last here and as we boxed up our Christmas decorations last night, not knowing where we will be when we open them again next year, I can only describe my emotions as hopefully sad. Full of hope as we look forward to the new year and all that God will show us about his character, mercy, grace and provision. But desperately sad at what we are packing up, preparing to leave behind. Not only did we just celebrate our last Christmas here, but we are entering a season of lasts that will come to a close long before I am ready. Just as winter must come and go before the spring can arrive, all of our “lasts” must be experienced before we can move on and enjoy all of the “firsts” ahead of us. It’s a mourning of sorts, and we hope to grieve our losses here well. We could sit inside the winter of our sadness and cry until spring comes (both literally and figuratively here in New York), or we can bundle up and face the cold, making the most of our last days.

Amidst these refining spiritual seasons, we’ve made fun memories, including taking the kids to New York City not once, but twice. Titus weaned, crawled, walked, and is now well on his way to linebacker training as we learn to feed him food he can tolerate and digest. Hope has gone from diaper clad toddler to blossoming little preschooler, able to articulate her thoughts and work through her fierce emotions with a little more control. Bailey began the year unable to read, and now reads at (the very least) a 3rd grade reading level and amazed us all with her confidence at her first dance recital. We’ve had family visit, had a blast on our official “stay-cation,” visited family in Nebraska, spent countless hours in our backyard, made new friends in our Classical Conversations homeschool community, and many more.

We’re thankful for 2016 and look forward with hopeful expectation to 2017.

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. Return, O LORD! How long? Have pity on your servants! Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. (Psalm 90:12-14 ESV)

Gospel-Centered Parenting Takes Work

I recently had the honor of playing violin with some ladies for special music at church. Two are fabulous musicians and music teachers and the other three are their respective daughters. While we were practicing, the two moms/teachers lamented the fact that neither has abundant time for individual practice anymore.

[Side note: I find it a little alarming to think that my dream of one day having oodles of time to invest however I choose when I am no longer changing countless diapers, fixing innumerable peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fetching cup after cup of ice water, is merely an illusion! But I digress.]

Both of these women are accomplished musicians. Over the course of their lives they’ve spent untold hours investing in their craft and would appear to be beyond the need for constant personal practice. Particularly as young adults in college, they had the time they needed to practice, learn, grow and be challenged. They had teachers who spent a great deal of time and effort helping them grow and mature as musicians. Now they spend their days teaching children to play and love music!

The determination and hard work of these musicians give Christian parents tremendous insight when it comes to discipling our children. Here are three things we can learn from them.

1. If you want to train your children to know and love Jesus, you must first know and love Jesus!

It would be very difficult for a music teacher to instill in her students a love for music and the ability to play if she didn’t know how to play the instrument she was instructing!

How is it that we best know and love Jesus?

We have to read. God saw fitting to leave us a book that tells us the story of our redemption in Jesus from beginning to end. We can’t and won’t know him apart from his Word. We are so bombarded with information and entertainment in our culture it makes sitting down and focusing on the written word nearly impossible but it is an absolute necessity. We cannot get around the fact that to know God we have to read his word. We can’t love what we don’t know. 

2. If you want children to grow into adults who love and serve Jesus, you must invest countless hours in training them up to do so now.

No musician (or athlete for that matter, but I am much more the first than the second so that’s the illustration we’ll stick with here) has become what they are are without instruction, sacrifice, practice, diligence, and discipline. Why do we expect anything less for our responsibility to train our children in the way they should go? Why do we think we can invest all our (and their) time, effort and energy into other things (sports, music, gymnastics, dance, etc…busy-ness knows no bias) and ignore our children’s spiritual upbringing, but then expect them to flourish as followers of Jesus, especially when released into the world, (probably in college) when they have their first real taste of ‘freedom’?

3. It takes a normal daily rhythm of constant conversation.

I recently read an article that noted very few children and youth have regular ongoing conversations about faith, Jesus, and the Gospel with their parents. It’s definitely not a surprise then, that children often aren’t enraptured by the grace of Jesus and appear to leave the church as soon as they are given the freedom to do so.

Just as a musician doesn’t learn a new piece in one sitting, our children don’t learn about God’s love in one reading of His word, or one conversation with mom and dad, youth pastor or Sunday School teacher. There has to be daily (sometimes multiple times a day!) practice, putting other things aside to make room for the most important thing.

And finally, pray.

The more your kids hear you pray, the more they will want to talk to God for themselves.

Pray for their little hearts! You can do everything right, but only the Holy Spirit can transform hearts, so put your trust in Him and not in any form of good parenting. But don’t neglect your role in their upbringing as a Christian parent.

And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. (Deuteronomy 6:6-9 ESV)

As you look to the new year, start the year with a fresh heart. Ask Jesus for help this year in discipling your children to know and love Him. For long after this year’s Christmas gifts are broken in a corner collecting dust, knowing Jesus is the greatest gift you can ever give them.

 

Submission Isn’t a Dirty Word

Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. (Ephesians 5:22-24 ESV)

image-1-1

Submission.

There are no shortage of articles, sermons and even books written about this topic, and yet, it still seems to leave a bad taste in women’s mouths. The temptation is to assume you know what it means and then you either have to decide if you’ll accept your own interpretation, or dismiss it as a “cultural topic” and irrelevant today. (Since women back in Paul’s day were certainly not as strong and independent as we are today!) *sarcasm intended there*

Don’t neglect to read on in the passage…

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, (Ephesians 5:25 ESV)

Wife, what if submission to one’s husband doesn’t mean you can’t have a strong personality and opinions? Maybe submission doesn’t mean the man makes all the decisions.  What if spiritual leadership, in it’s truest form, means your husband sacrifices his desires, wants, and comfort on behalf of his family in order to lead them into the holiness that Christ desires from us?  Who could balk at that?

When James is leading me and our family well, he is continually sacrificing his comfort on my behalf. Who wouldn’t want to follow a leader who doesn’t demand respect and authority but, in humility, lays down his life for others? Sometimes leading me spiritually means James takes the kids and tells me to get out and read my Bible and pray for longer than 5 minutes at a time. Sometimes that means that when it’s been a hard day and the kids aren’t listening and whining, he takes over and lets me recover alone. (Hello, introvert here…) Being a spiritual leader doesn’t mean he tells me what to read or how to pray. But he provides the space and the ability for me to do so when life is overwhelming and too chaotic for me to carve out that space on my own. He makes sure it happens.

A few months ago, we announced a BIG change in our family. We are leaving our church and everything we’ve known for the past 3+ years in order to become full-time staff missionaries with Cru. What no one saw was the countless conversations James and I had leading up to that public announcement. James didn’t make that decision on his own and drag us along with him. We didn’t even make this decision together in one neat little conversation. In fact, when we started praying about what was next for our family, I had more opinions than he did. We talked.  Sometimes we argued. We prayed. We prayed more. It was hard. But never once did James demand we do what he says we should just because he’s the husband and is supposed to be the leader. Being a spiritual leader does NOT mean you make the big/hard/risky decisions for your family on your own. In our case, it meant James needed to listen to me and my heart a little more and take a somewhat risky step of faith.

When done well, a husband leading and a wife submitting is a very beautiful and essential representation of the Gospel. Jesus leading his people and conquering their enemies actually looked NOTHING like what his followers thought it would look like. They wanted a ruler to come and destroy their political enemies. Jesus instead came quietly and humbly and then died on behalf of his people, conquering our greatest enemy itself—sin!  When we, as his people, submit to his authority in our life, we are not submitting to a harsh, demanding authoritarian ruler. We are submitting to the most selfless, patient and loving King we could ever know. No one who could truly see that would demand it be otherwise.

Unfortunately we don’t always get it right. We allow our sinful natures to tell us God must be wrong, instead of dealing with the reality that maybe our idea of what it means to lead and submit are probably incorrect.

A few important things to note here, particularly for single men and women:

-Male headship and female submission is only required within the context of the marital union (or family context with a believing father and daughter). A single woman is not under the authority of the single man sitting next to her at church.

-A single woman should be careful to not demand the man she is interested in or is dating be the perfect leader from the get-go. He deserves patience and grace as he earnestly seeks the Lord and learns to lead. Be careful in dismissing a man who may be a young believer simply because he doesn’t know how to lead well.  Just knowing how to lead a Bible study of 6 guys in no way prepares him to lead a wife and family in daily pursuit of the Lord. It’s messy, hard and takes time to cultivate that kind of humble heart.

-In the same respect, a single man should not discount a woman as a potential marriage partner simply because she has a “strong personality” and he doesn’t think she’ll know how to “submit” well. If a woman says “I won’t submit to a man!” don’t dismiss her as an unbelieving woman. It’s likely she has no idea what true biblical leadership and submission really means. 

If your heart bristles when you read Ephesians 5, stop for a minute and pray. Ask the Holy Spirit to work in you to see truth clearly.  In marriage, we are seeing and displaying a mere shadow, a foretaste of the coming King and Christ’s reign among the Church. Let’s prepare the way for him to return well! Let our marriages be grace filled testaments to our submission to the Ultimate Authority, the true King, who entered into our brokenness amidst sheep and camel dung as an utterly helpless babe. He led the way to a restored relationship with God all the way to the cross. He gave up his comfort, his right to riches, his perfect communion with his Father on our behalf. 

If a man desires to model that for me and our family, there’s no one on earth that could convince me not to go with him.

image-1-2