They Prayed for Me

It started like any other Sunday morning. Well, except for having three Little People to get ready to get out the door, but that’s for another post.

During worship this week there was an opportunity for those who were feeling a special need for prayer to raise our hands so those around us could gather to pray. As I lifted my hand in response, I felt my pre-teen granddaughter’s arm slide around my waist. Then one by one little ones started gathering: Bekah, Lydia, Jimmy, Wyatt, JJ, Elsie, Annie, Brianna, Joey.

A friend captured this pic.  I’m grateful.

The tears that had been brimming during the current song we were singing spilled over into stream after stream down my face. As one tear after another fell onto little Elsie’s hair I heard a couple of sniffles. The tears of some of Redeemer Church’s youngest reminded me that I was loved by 6 and 8 and 11-year-olds who felt compassion for Granma/Mrs Phillips because she needed prayer. I felt understood. Hopeful. Humbled. Snuggled. Noticed. Whether they actually prayed for me or just wanted to hug me, God’s love for me was on display in a way I hope to never forget.

I’ve learned to gently ask myself, “Why am I crying?” because the answer isn’t usually what I think. I thought I needed prayer because I’ve been feeling weary — but God knew I needed something else; something I didn’t even know would be so helpful.

I needed to know that the brokenness and struggles through which I have walked have a purpose beyond myself. Since before I had children I’ve longed to be one of those who would “tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done” (Ps 78:4). Aging is teaching me that telling younger generations “the glorious deeds of the LORD” isn’t just recounting the story of how God healed me from infertility; rehearsing the miracle of His provision to our former church that Sunday morning in the 80’s when a one-time offering of nearly $400K from a group of singles and young families found old and young dancing and singing for joy; or sharing about a high school revival that saw dozens of tail-end-of-the-hippie movement teens saved in a matter of months, including their now Dad, Papa, friend and/or pastor.

Recounting God’s faithfulness and power also means seeing this old lady raise her hand on Sunday to ask for prayer because she’s been going through some tough times and has learned that God is faithful to help, comfort and bring hope to the struggling day after sometimes dark, exhausting day.

Sunday morning reminded me that help doesn’t always come in expected ways. Help came not from the articulate prayers of seasoned saints or a comforting word of encouragement from someone operating in the gift of prophecy. Rather, I was helped by the caring hands of children who noticed a lady they love silently saying, “I need help.” With childlike faith they came and with outstretched hands they touched and comforted me. Their compassion was a demonstration of the love of God and evidence that the next generation is also reaching to Him; the One whose might and power is gloriously made known to a crying lady on a Sunday morning in a little church meeting in a middle school in Orlando.

Actually, that day was like any other Sunday morning. God showed up and met with His people — including little ones who will someday take their place as pillars in His church here or elsewhere. Oh, I hope to be there to cry through worship they lead and take notes during messages they preach and snuggle with babies they’ve birthed…and likely have them surround a more wrinkled, littler old lady they look down to who raises her hand for prayer again. But if I’m not here I will be among the cloud of witnesses cheering them on and worshiping at the feet of the Savior they now serve.

Lord, please give me the strength to tell them about Your power and glory and might — both with testimonies of miraculous things You’ve done in the past and by showing them that I get scared and weary and need help just like them.

Redeemer Church was planted to bring hope. This pastor’s wife and grandmother and teacher of some awesome kids in children’s ministry sure is hopeful for a generation who is willing to put down their stuffed animals or stop whispering to their buddy to come and pray for a needy grandmother.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me through the least of these.

Pray For Destiny Hope: Part Two

My post yesterday was the first after my summer break. The response was surprising. It seems my thoughts about Destiny Hope (scroll down to see this if you haven’t already) hit a chord in many hearts.

I’m encouraged!

Why? Because many of you, like me, are aware of the spiritual pride (as one reader defined the sinful attitude we often deal with in relation to “those sinners out there”) that tempts us to view ourselves as better than others because our actions are more outwardly righteous than theirs.

• “You wouldn’t catch me wearing something like that on national TV…or even at the beach, for goodness sake!”
• “How in the world could that young woman do those things in front of millions of people???”
• “Where did she learn to act like that? Who in the world had a filthy enough mind to choreograph those moves?”
• “What happened to the little girl who went to Sunday School and wore a promise ring?”

I’ll admit it. My first reaction to the teaser clips I saw of Miley’s moves on Fox News wasn’t compassion. They were revolting. Shameful. Disgusting. Shocking. Until I took some moments to look into my own heart.

I was six years old when my friend Linda, the pastor’s daughter, and I were walking around the “dime store” (many of you are too young to know what that means) on a Saturday afternoon. We typically headed straight for the cheap little dolls and their even cheaper little accessories. I don’t remember the details of what I was thinking that day over fifty years ago, but I do remember something important. One of the “magic” baby bottles — where the milk seemed to disappear when turned up to feed the baby — ended up in my pocket when we left. And I didn’t have the 25 cents to pay for it.

It couldn’t have been that bad because it was the pastor’s daughter’s idea! The bottle in her pocket had disappearing orange juice, so between us we could feed our babies juice and milk.

At age six these two young churched girls had already become thieves and liars. And one of them justified her actions because the desire to “go along” with her pastor’s kid gave her just the permission she needed to do what was in her heart to do anyway.

The next time I remember stealing and lying was in fifth grade. I was in the “advanced” reading group and desperately wanted to retain my role as the group leader. This meant I had to read numerous books in a given time period and answer a list of comprehension questions to prove I had actually completed them. I also had the job of checking the other group members’ quizzes and then keep track of their progress in the teacher’s grade book.

Maybe you’re ahead of me. This meant I had authorized access to the answer keys.

I don’t remember if this happened just once, but I remember cheating one afternoon when no one else was in the room. I stole the answers to one (or more?) of the quizzes because my leadership tasks had left me behind in my own reading. My proud heart craved the recognition and respect of being the leader and I wasn’t about to give that up.

There you have it: by age 10 I was already demonstrating my willingness to steal, lie (covering up sin is the same as lying, right?) and rebel against God and my parents/teacher to get what I wanted. This pattern continued into my teen years when I was willing to compromise morally and ethically to keep a boyfriend or be accepted by the “cool” people or get ahead academically.

And I wish all that had stopped when I graduated high school!

appomattoxchurchofchrist.org

You see, a couple of months back I reacted angrily at Benny (my husband) and threw my cell phone at the wall near him. That same attitude of entitlement I had decades ago (didn’t I “deserve” that baby bottle and expedited quiz grades and cute boyfriend?) remains to some degree to this day. When Benny did something that tempted me to react angrily, to his shock I picked up my phone and heaved it toward the wall. Sigh. At least I didn’t throw it right at him. Because I don’t typically express my anger outwardly (even though it’s alive and well in my heart) he and I both realized this was a sign that something was deeply affecting me. The little girl who “deserved” a toy she couldn’t pay for became a wife who “deserves” her husband’s sensitivity, attention or encouragement. I’ve spent some good time with the Lord asking Him to search out the things in my heart that allowed me to act so wrongly toward Benny.

So what does this have to do with Miley?  What if her actions, like mine as a kid and even recently as an adult, are symptoms of heart issues of which she isn’t even aware? Are her actions really the biggest problem? Or is there something deeper and even more serious going on?

The only reason you and I become aware of what is motivating us is because God shows us. I don’t see my sinful anger, greed, self-pity or painful sadness over being sinned against with my own eyes. And neither do you. Perhaps like me, you want to blame things like outbursts of anger on disrespectful kids or incompetent store clerks or gossipy friends or unkind relatives. We see — or are even willing to see — the roots of sin or brokenness or grief in our hearts when the Spirit of God kindly shows them to us. Left to ourselves, like Miley, we would go our own way without thought to how our actions begin in and flow out of our hearts.

Jesus talked about this when He said: “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander” (Matthew 15:19). Hmm…sinful actions begin in the heart. Pornography and gossip, adulterous affairs and teens making out in the backseat of cars, lies and murder all begin in the heart before they ever come out — to just one person over lunch or to millions on TV.

Seeing how similar Miley and I alike are helps me to cultivate Christlike compassion rather than pharisaical judgement toward her. We both have a heart problem. I have been declared not guilty of my many sins while she seemingly remains in need of a Savior who is just as able to forgive her as He has me.

P.S. By the way, my conscience got the best of me and I told Mom about the magic baby bottle.  She and the pastor’s wife had a good talkin’ to with LInda and me (well, not just a talkin’ to!) and we both had to return the toys to the store. The manager tried to give them back to us to say thanks for having the courage to return them (what courage??? our Moms made us!) but our moms wisely declined. They paid the 25 cents each for them, but then we all left the store with the man holding them in his hand. Thanks, Mom!

Good News About Aging

This week two of my sons have birthdays.  Jesse (on the left below) turned 29 on Sunday and Josh (on the right further down) will be 34 on Thursday. It’s strange that I typed that sentence. One of the signs of true aging (verses the 20 or 30-somethings that just think they’re old) is that you say things like, “I can’t believe how fast time flies” or “How in the world did my kids get that old?”

But the fact is at nearly 58 I will be officially in my late 50’s when I have my birthday in August. That qualifies me to talk like an old person.

Today I’m thinking about the things I love about aging. Our culture doesn’t value aging, and I’m one of the baby boomers who has been sold the lie that aging is a bad thing that should be disguised as much as possible. I even tell people how old I am to do just a little thing to demonstrate I’m not ashamed of my age.  But I do cover my gray so there’s a part of me that still doesn’t want to look it.

One of the things I cherish about aging is watching my children become adults. My adorable little tow heads who used to have air bands to Lion King songs in the basement and did “Mediocre Magicians” shows using our first huge video camera, are grown men with families of their own. They work hard (actually, Josh is Jesse’s boss); seek to provide godly leadership for their wives and children; and are lovingly devoted to our large extended family.

Yet the thing I am most grateful for this week is their passion for the Lord and His church. You see, last Sunday was the official launch for Redeemer Church. For the first time, Jesse and his family joined our months-old church. Mom/Granma was thrilled because, amazingly, God moved each of our children’s hearts to be a part of this.  Josh and Jesse (and their wonderful wives) have sacrificed greatly to be a part of Redeemer.

When they were young, their dad was working hard to build another church up in Northern Virginia. Josh, and later Jesse, drove early with Daddy to help unload equipment or set up the book/tape tables. Before long, Josh was working in the sound booth and Jesse proudly served as an usher. Before we knew it, Josh was leading worship for the youth ministry and Jesse ended up serving as a pastor-in-training here in Florida.

When they decided to leave the church they love and join a small group of people to start Redeemer Church, both couples said one of the main reasons for this was that they wanted their children to grow up serving on a church plant. For the past several months 7-year-old JJ has been joining Josh early to help unload sound equipment. This week, Jesse’s three toddlers were mingling with the other children before the meeting for their first Sunday there. It’s only a matter of time before they join Daddy doing things that makes little boys feel strong.

Benny and I prayed our children would love the church. God heard our prayers and has answered them in a big way.

If you have young children, don’t stop praying. Don’t stop praying when it seems He’s not listening. Don’t stop praying when your children go through seasons of spiritual apathy or rebellion. And if you do stop praying, don’t feel guilty about that and neglect to start praying again. Can you tell I’m speaking from experience? I am.

Pray for your children or future children. And remember, there are little people to come that will benefit from the grace of God as He answers your prayers.

In a big way.

Happy birthday, Josh and Jesse. Because of God’s faithfulness in your lives, Mom is finding aging to be not so bad.