Hope, again

“What great love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God – and that is what we are!” 1 John 3:1

That last part holds such a tone of surprise for me. Like John just realized the truth of what he was just speaking.

We are called children of God – Oh! Oh, because that’s what we are! We are children of God; dependents under him; his family; protected and provided for by him; loved in that unconditional sort of way that only parents are of capable of! Oh!

Let me tell you, it is an honor to be the child of my mom and dad. They are exceptional people whom I look up to in wonder and respect, and being loved and cared for by them is a privilege. How much more of an honor then to be the child of God, daughter of the King, a legitimate princess of righteousness?

It is mind-boggling and humbling beyond all belief. I almost don’t want to look at this verse, this truth, out of shame that I don’t deserve such a magnificent honor. And I don’t deserve it, but I need to look at it to remember that grace is a part – a huge part – of that honor.

“…now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known, but we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.”

And again we have hope, described here as “not a mere wish, but unshakable confidence concerning the future.” We who are his children, though we don’t know – can’t know – what he has for us, have unshakable confidence in our futures – the hope of God. And this hope is directed to the hope of Romans 5, where it is defined as “not to be equated with unfounded optimism … it is the confident expectation and blessed assurance of our future destiny, based on God’s love, which is revealed to us by the Holy Spirit.”

Our hope is not unfounded. It is demonstrated by God’s love, revealed to us by the Holy Spirit, proven through Christ’s death for us.

Our hope does not equate to blind optimism. We are confident in our expectations because our futures have already been proven – they lie in the hands of one who has shown us nothing but goodness and mercy and discipline, as every good father does. We have nothing to fear. We are blessedly assured.

Calm

Okaaaay, I know. Quit it with the snow pictures. But I'm off work because of this stuff, and stranded at home because Hubs (who is not off work) has the car, and I've got nothing better to do than spam the Internet with snow photos like the rest of the people in this city. I regret nothing.

One Cold Thing

"Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes..."

This is a thing that is happening. I have entered the White Death. I find it invigorating.

Mobilizing

Mathilda the Cold and her posse of adorable brutes.

I am maybe amassing an army to combat the cold. 

I've recruited an ice princess to my cause.

Terror! Confusion! Fie!

The white stuff is back! 

And it brought reinforcements!! 

Who will save us!?

(Ohhh, the humanity!)

Hope in faith

On how Compulsive Planning = Fear and how Hope = Faith.

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him ‘So shall your offspring be.’” Romans 4:18

Abraham actually had no logical reason to hope. He was old. His wife was old and already proven barren. And how does any one person father nations, anyway? Abraham had every right to be making contingency plans.

But (at least, at first) he chose to believe in hope. He chose the uncertain hopefulness of faith – to stand on what God promised him – rather than planning for “just in case” God didn't come through. What a slap in the face it is to God when we read his promises and instead of standing in faith and hope, we prepare for just in case he was lying.

“Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him…” Abraham believed in hope. He stood on the promise and the promise was proved.

If there is one thing that has never wavered in my life, it is the desire to be a mother. Over and over, throughout my life, this desire – this calling – has been affirmed in me. It is such a deep desire with such a long and unvarying life that I can only believe it is of God. I myself have never come up with an idea that’s stuck for so long.

So why then, now that fulfillment is coming closer to within reach, why do I doubt? Why do I read of and try to prepare myself for miscarriages, and infertility, and adoption as a last resort? Why now, when I stand so close to the promise – when I am as mature as I have ever been; when I am married and have built a strong relationship with my husband; when we are both stably employed; when we are currently living within reach of familial help – why now, when all these things are pushing me toward the great promise of my life do I choose to wonder if it is really for me? Why am I planning for the worst, with contingency after contingency, when I should be preparing to dance in the glory of a promise fulfilled?

It is because I am like Abraham.

As the time of his promise neared (though he didn't know it) Abraham began to let logic and “proof” take over his belief. He allowed the world to intrude on his heavenly privilege and took matters into his own hands. He chose his contingency plan over God’s plan; and we have an endless war to show for it. By all the saints in heaven and the love of God of earth, I do not want to make that mistake. I don’t want to be like Abraham – at least not the doubting, disobedient, unintentional perpetual-conflict-starting one. I want to be the hope-filled Abraham. I want to be the Abraham who hoped in belief and whose promise was proved true for his faith!

When I was younger, nearly of all of my female friends lamented the scattered and unpredictable nature of their monthlies. Meanwhile, you could set a calendar by me. In those young years, I always assumed I was so incredibly punctual for a reason. Surely it would make it easier to become pregnant when the time came. Surely it would mean I would know sooner than one might expect, and would therefore be better able to take care of myself properly, sooner. Back then I just knew that my (apparently shocking) regularity was a mode by which God was preparing me for this promise. Now… now I wish for that unpredictability my friends hated. I wish I could just find myself pregnant, because then it wouldn't have been my decision – and if it’s not my decision then it’s not my fault if it’s not the right time.

I ask you:
What kind of bullshit is that?

When I was younger I stood on hope; I lived in belief that God was preparing me for this promise of motherhood. Now that I've gotten older, (notice I leave out wiser) I suddenly think that the when/where/how of the promise is up to me?

The truth of the matter is that this is God’s promise. Is it a promise for me? Yes. I stand firmly on that belief in hope. But God is the arbiter. He decides the when/where/how of the fulfillment of his promise. If I were to stop my birth control and not get pregnant immediately when I expect to, all it means is that it’s not time for the promise. If I were to stay on my birth control and get pregnant anyway – well, shoot, God, if it’s time, it’s time! And if I step away from birth control and get pregnant right when I expect and hope to, then it will be a lucky thing that my timing and God’s timing just happened to line up. But it will not have had to do with me. I don’t get to choose when God fulfills his promises. He takes into account all the factors I can’t see – my readiness, my husband’s readiness, the state of the world, where he is leading us, and most importantly, when these young ones need to enter the world to be most productive to his will.

I don’t get to choose when God fulfills his promises. It is my job to stand on them, in hope and in faith.

Dear Children

“My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin.” 1 John 2:1

I don’t yet know why this strikes me so forcefully, but it does. It feels heavy, but it makes me feel light and like I want to cry. Maybe it’s gratefulness. Maybe it’s the “Dear children” because I am such the child, and this makes me feel specifically cared for.

Update:

“I am writing to you … because your sins have been forgiven on account of his name”“I am writing to you … because you know him”“I am writing to you … because you have overcome the evil one”“I write to you … because you know the Father”“I write to you … because you know him who is from the beginning.”“I write to you because you are strong and the word of God lives in you and you have overcome the evil one.”“I write to you because you know the truth.”“I am writing these things to you about those who are trying to lead you astray.”

I am writing to you, dear children, dear child, to remind you who you are, and that you already know the truth. I write to you to give you strength and encouragement, and to let you know that I know that you know who you are and who God is, and the power that you have in him.

I remind you of the things that you know and the power and strength that you have because I am also writing to warn you of those that are trying and will try to lead you astray and make you forget. There will come a time in the last times when faith will fall away and I want you to remember who you are, and who God is, and to hold on to the strength and the power you have in him.

I am writing to you, dear children, dear child, to open your eyes and to help you see.

This is why it struck me. It is heavy, because it is essential to remember. But I feel so light remembering what is true and what is mine to take hold of. And it makes me want to cry that I am so loved and so filled with his power and his strength.  I felt the warning coming; but thank God – I am equipped.

Observations

The Church is many making up one. If we are not deeply connected, it takes only a little pressure, a little tug away to cause a break from the body. Imagine an arm. If it’s connected only by skin to the shoulder, it can tear away with little provocation. We need to be joined to the church by more than skin – more than the surface work of showing up. We must be connected by muscle and bone and sinew and joints – by working in ministries, being active in small groups, finding ways to serve within the church and in the community with the church. We have to connect deeper than the surface.