by Stacey | Dec 31, 2015 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
It happened. Everyone told me it might one day but no one can really prepare you for the day your child growls, “I hate you.”
He was in time out. Again.
Fighting angry. Hands fisted. Jaw clenched. And snarling those dreaded words.
I. Hate. You.
Imagine, just for a minute, the anger that must have been pumping through his heart to prompt the most hurtful words his young mind could imagine.
All directed toward me.
Now imagine his shock at finding me right behind him, absorbing the slam of each syllable. Words he likely thought in the past but never dared to voice until today. His eyes widen. He steps back. His transparent expression screams regret.
Then, shock turns to confusion. Utter and complete confusion as the target of his anger drops to his level, gathers his rigid, shocked form into her arms, presses lips against his ear, and whispers, “I will always love you. Even if you hate me. Even if you continue to disobey. Nothing can ever take my love for you away.”
I kiss his temple and walk away. I blink back tears against the deeper stinging truth.
I am just like my son.
My words drove nails into Jesus’ hands, words spoken aloud and uttered in the sinful folds of my heart. My attitude thrust spikes through his feet, attitudes of pride, self-sufficiency, and a stubborn refusal to yield. My anger put a crown of thorns on His head and there is no hiding any of it from God.
But He gathers me in His arms, presses His lips against my ear, and whispers, “I love you. My love does not depend on you, it depends on me. There is nothing you can do that will ever change my deep and great love for you.”
A heartbeat thunders in my chest. Sorrow washes over me. Regret. Shame.
A small hand tugs at my sleeve. A repentant voice seeks forgiveness. I pull my little man into my arms whispering assurances of love and I understand a little bit more of the joy our Father must feel over repentant, surrendered hearts.
*from the archives
by Stacey | Nov 12, 2015 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
Such a beautiful day to end dark.
Sleepy smiles and warm hugs. Family prayer. Snacks and play. But like a cloud slipping over the sun, darkness creeps over little hearts. Gentle correction produces tempers and tears. The easy becomes hard.
Love is patient
Harsh words. Wounded hearts. Growling anger.
Love is kind
Love responds with another hug, even when little arms beat against my chest. Love softens the tone, even when my insides twist in frustration. Because Love never fails.
Never.
Love is patient with the crying child.
Love is kind amid the battle.
Love keeps no record of wrong.
Never.
Oh, how these children keep me humble. Driving me to me knees, where I meet Perfect Love.
And He meets me there, bent low, confessing my sins, my lack, my need.
He is patient. He is kind. He holds me tight, even when I beat against His chest in anger. He speaks truth into my soul. He sheds light into the darkest corners of my heart.
I yield, almost as begrudgingly as my child. Exhausted from the struggle. Ready to listen and repent. He threads His Spirit through me, and by His strength, I respond in love.
*from the archives
by Stacey | Oct 1, 2015 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
She sang it in her hospital room. As the pain increased, so did her praise. She sang, “Bound for Glory” by the Vertical Church Band and I will always, always, always, see her beautiful face every time I hear that song.
And suddenly, all that frustrated me, sapped my joy, or stole my patience, didn’t matter anymore. The time wasters that sucked away hours lost their appeal. She gave me perspective. Holy perspective.
Only God knows how many days are written in my book of life. Yet, how long have I lived as if tomorrow was certain? How many hours did I waste on things destined to burn?
I hug my kids a little bit tighter. I extend more grace. Much more grace. I unplug and pray. I pray long, hard, like I’ve never prayed before. I pray until I can sing along with that sweet little girl. This world is NOT my home. I am bound for GLORY. It’s time to live like it.
This world is not my home. I’m here for a moment. It’s all I’ve ever known, but this world is not my home. The fight is not my own. These burdens aren’t my future. The empty tomb has shown I am bound for glory.
I am free because I’m bound. I am bound for heavens gate. Where my feet will stand on holy ground I am bound for glory.
The saving work is done. Death is not my ending. My God has overcome. I am bound for glory.
All my pain, hurt and shame, gone when Jesus calls my name. Endless joy endless praise—All when Jesus calls my name.
And this sweet ten-year-old does what many four, five or six times her age cannot. She stares death in the face and smiles because her God has overcome. These burdens are NOT her future. She is bound for glory.
Thank you, precious girl, for loving your Jesus.
*printed with permission
![That small country church]()
by Stacey | Sep 3, 2015 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
It was our first full-time ministry experience. The majority of the village population lived in a cluster of homes surrounding a four-way stop, and worshiped another five minutes down the highway in this tiny country church.
Voices raised in worship seeped through the paper-thin walls as we poured out ourselves for the gospel. Now, over a decade later, the church no longer stands. Part of me wishes I could see those familiar walls again. However, the church, the real church, is not made of walls.
The church is not an institution, but instead is a spiritual entity made up of those who have by grace through faith been brought into a close, intimate relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ (Ephesians 2:8–9). Those people, no matter which building, denomination, or country they happen to be in, constitute the true church.
The church is made of people living for Christ, people working to tear down the walls standing between an unbelieving world and God. It’s where everyone matters, but numbers don’t because it doesn’t matter how many bodies fill the pews, what matters is how Jesus changes lives— how people put themselves down and pick Jesus up.
Inside those thin walls, in that place of growth, place of wonder, place of challenges, and place of miracles, God saved souls and moved people from darkness to light. He changed me. He sanded my rough edges and sifted my heart, leaving me with nothing but Him. And because of that, I will always be thankful for those ministry years that spurred growth, maturity, and a total dependence on God.
All for His glory.
by Stacey | Aug 27, 2015 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
The invitation was simple. Come.
Come to the park and don’t leave until your hunger and thirst are satisfied. Take from the bounty of pizza, chips, and water. Take until you are filled and quenched.
Whole pies went home with some, slices with others, thanks offered with starving eyes.
But there are a million ways a body can starve, physical hunger being only one.
So we prayed with those thirsty for God. Hugged those starved for affection. Conversed with those famished for companionship. And most importantly, directed their attention to the only One who can satisfy their deepest needs.
The preacher invited the starving to come to the table and feast on Living Bread. Living Bread proclaimed through Living Words able to rebirth the dying with a simple invitation. Come.
And those who were thirsty, poor in spirit, who knew their need, came to drink from the fountain that truly satisfies. God ushered souls from darkness into the Light.
And this day in the park was anything but a simple day in the park.
For many came.
by Stacey | Aug 13, 2015 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
He was lying, and she knew it, but she couldn’t prove it.
After 30 minutes of tears and denial we suspected she was right. But, he clung to his lie like a drowning man, misplaced hope in concrete shoes.
Fearful eyes flashed. Will he be exposed? And what will be the consequence for his dogmatic refusal to repent?
And they face off. Neither budging. Voices rising. Tears flowing.
I tug her aside to consider forgiveness. Undeserved, unmerited mercy gifted to him because she loves him. She can’t make him confess or apologize, but she can forgive him KNOWING he is wrong and unrepentant.
Her wet tears dampen my t-shirt as she considers the cost of letting go of her righteous anger. Forgiveness always comes at a cost.
“Mercy and forgiveness must be free and unmerited to the wrongdoer. If the wrongdoer has to do something to merit it, than it isn’t mercy, but forgiveness always comes at a cost to the one granting the forgiveness.”
~ Timothy Keller, The Prodigal God: Recovering the heart of the Christian faith.
Christ freely extends forgiveness, but it cost Him much. It wasn’t fair. It physically hurt, but he loved us too much to withhold it.
A shuddering cry. She wipes her cheeks. We pray for his repentance. Pray that God does the work we cannot force in the heart of the boy we love. And it is better this way because when God does it, it is done. It is real and it changes you.
And more than her way, she wants lasting change.
She faces his indignant stubbornness and freely extends what will cost her much.
His eyes widen.
A tiny smile turns up the corner of her lips. A hug is exchanged. One is set free. One is weighed down with conviction.
And the sun sets three times before he gathers the courage to fix what he broke. With a trembling frame, he stands before her. “I did it. I lied. It was wrong and I’m sorry. Next time I will be honest. Will you forgive me again?” A single tear marks his cheek. A lower lip quivers, the full weight of conviction heavy on his heart.
She smiles wider, tugs him in, fully restoring what sin had broken.
