Saturday, August 24, 2013

Raising a sabbath child

Hey friends, I’m baaaaaaack! I had to wipe some cobwebs off of the laptop and remember my password to log into the blog, but it did feel good to set down the routine for a time and focus on other things. Our Sabbath time was good. Good as in Mmmmmmm goooooood. We slept in, we had adventures, we ate food prepared by someone else, we made memories, we loved each other, we remembered why Sabbath is a top-ten on God’s list of loving rules to abide by.

I read something recently that made me choke on my own breath as I inhailed the holy-cow-this-is-significant-ness of it. Though I can’t remember the exact wordage, the point was that children formulate most of their opinions about who God is  - his character, his attributes, his worth - from observing their parents than from anything else. On the one hand, this is almost a “duh” concept, but as I thought about this truth in the context of our Sabbathing, I felt the dots all being joined together.

When I refuse to take Sabbath because of a compulsive need to be productive, I’m teaching my daughter to fear man more than God and to find her worth in something other than Him.

When I worry about how our Sabbathing will appear to donors and affect our ministry financially, I fail to teach my daughter that God is the Provider and the one we serve. (fyi, Choshen ministry money is NEVER used for Sabbath, vacation, holiday, rest, etc. just want to throw that our there in the name of full disclosure…)

When I fail to stop and smell the roses – both the proverbial and the literal ones – I fail to teach my daughter about thankfulness and the God of good and perfect gifts.

When she watches me go, go, go, fueled by a people pleasing mentality, I forfeit the opportunity to demonstrate what it means to live as a daughter of the King, a worshipful being, an approved work[wo]man who is unashamed.

On the seventh day, GOD rested. He sure did. When I fail to heed counsel and follow suit, I mislead my darling daughter by teaching her that God is something other than my ultimate example, a wholly good, sufficient provider who loves and affirms me for who I am in Him. How tragic is that?

When we stood in front of the church for Bronwyn’s baby dedication, we were asked if we agreed that we needed grace and the help of God’s people in raising her. We heartily concurred, though at the time I think I was assuming that meant grace as in thanks for not judging me if I don’t wash my hair before coming to church and help as in thanks for taking care of my baby in the church nursery and we sure appreciate the casseroles. But I see now that I need grace and the help of God’s people for so much more. I need brothers and sisters to graciously remind me that missionaries are not super-spiritual beings and to affirm our Sabbath rest. I need your help in the form of comments and e-mails if you’ve read a year’s worth of blogs and haven’t heard the word Sabbath mentioned once. When I blog here more about our ministry than I do our family, I need you to tell me to save all that for and preserve these airwaves for the stuff of life and set some boundaries with work. And I need you to do these things because a well rested, balanced, joyful-in-Christ woman is the only kind of mother who is going to raise Bronwyn well. It’s the only way for my baby girl (who is quickly become a super observant big girl!) to get a right picture of a Holy God. Is she not worth it?

you bet she is.

And so, this is my extraordinarily long way of saying It’s good to have gone, and its good to be back.

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