will & t +2

Some writers suggest that God focuses simply on us knowing him. These writers give up hope by spiritualizing it. But Abraham and Sarah had a son. Joseph’s brothers bowed before him. David got the kingdom, and Jesus rose from the dead.

Hope.

We couldn’t find Will’s keys this morning, and the first person we asked was our daughter.

“Mercedes, where are daddy’s keys?” 

She ran over to the couch, pulled back the cushion, and said, “Daddy’s keys.” 

“No Mercedes, they aren’t in the couch. Mommy and daddy already looked there.”

So we went about our day tearing apart the house here and there, and praying that God would show us where the keys were.

One problem: He already did.

In one last desperate attempt, 9pm, Will pulls back the couch and looks down in the space between our bookshelves and the back of the couch. 

Keys.

Right where Mercedes had pointed.

“Will, you are kidding me. I feel totally rebuked by God. Mercedes told me they were right there! And I just didn’t really listen to her.”

Her pulling back the cushion was so she could see and point back behind the couch. If I would have paused for a moment to listen to my daughter we would have had his keys at 10am this morning.

But because I didn’t we have this gracious reminder to stop and listen to our daughter. Because God uses even a 22-month-old little girl to lead us to things lost. 

Mercedes has not been napping worth beans lately. An hour here, 30 minutes there, but rarely more than 1.5 hours at a time. This makes one tired and cranky girl by the end of the day. And usually the shoe hits the fan about 5pm, right when daddy comes home. 

We’ve always done a bedtime routine with her. We pray, sing the doxology, and lay her down. For her naps I usually hug her a bit, tell her all the people that love her (mommy loves you, daddy loves you, God loves you, Jesus loves you, grandma loves you, etc) and down she goes.

But with the way she’s been napping lately, or rather, not napping, I’ve caught myself, before anything else, wanting to figure out a solution. Maybe she still needs two naps. Maybe one. Maybe alternating days of one and two. Maybe more routine. Maybe she’s hungry. Maybe she’s warm. Maybe she’s just not a good napper. 

Today I laid her down for a nap and she looked up at me and said, “Pray, mommy.” 

Yes, my love, pray. 

My 22-month-old daughter, an instrument of grace to lead me to the throne of grace. And there I called out, and will call out tomorrow, for help and God will deliver me (probably not from a 45 minute nap, but from fear and pride and impatience and control, my scarlet sin), and I will glorify him.

Thank you, Lord Jesus. 

Two more weeks left of Perspectives and I couldn’t be happier to be: 1. almost done, and 2. reading what I’m reading this week. 

Lesson 14 is Pioneer Church Planting Movements

Perspectives has been such a rich course because it is at once highly intellectual and highly worshipful. 

Like tonight. I’m reading about the “conglomerate church planting” approach verses the “people movement” approach and just when my head is starting to spin I read something like this: 

Regarding a new convert’s patient endurance of exclusion, oppression, or persecution… He should say on all occasions…

I am a better son than I was before; I am a better father than I was before; I am a better husband than I was before; and I love you more than I used to do. You can hate me, but I will not hate you. You can exclude me, but I will include you. You can force me out of our ancestral house, but I will live on its veranda. Or I will get a house just across the street. I am still one of you; I am more one of you than I ever was before.