Climbing

Megan Breedlove April 6, 2009 0 Comments

My kids love any toy they can jump on—bounce houses, trampolines, or that all-time favorite, Mommy and Daddy’s bed. Now and then, they get invited to parties at jumping places. These are places where there are several large inflatables the kids can climb on, jump on, and have a great time on.

I remember one of these parties in particular. It was at a place called Pump It Up. I had brought Ellie, Kenny, and Lindsey. Kenny was almost four at the time. He had improved greatly in some of the things he was able to do physically, and he was beginning to be comfortable attempting more things.

One of the toys at this party was a large slide. You would climb up one side by holding onto and stepping on small inflatable rectangles, and then you could slide down the other side. Kenny decided that he wanted to go up that slide. I mean, he really wanted to go up the slide.

I was so proud of him for attempting it, because it showed how far he’d come not only physically, but in courage. I wasn’t sure if he could do it, though.

Kenny climbed up onto the platform, crawled through a short tunnel, then approached the climbing part of the slide. He awkwardly tried to figure out how to go on up. I could tell that he understood what he was supposed to do, but that he wasn’t secure about his body’s ability to perform the skill quite yet.

I wound up following him upwards, climbing just far enough behind him that he could make the attempt on his own but also that if he fell, I could catch him. It wasn’t coming easily to him, but Kenny kept trying, and I admired his perseverance.

Then, it happened.

As he was trying to move himself upward, Kenny partially lost his grip, and he wound up still holding onto a couple rectangles, but unevenly, one of his hands on a rectangle further down than the other, one foot dangling.

Oh, no, I thought. Would he get upset? Would he give up?

Both of these were good possibilities, as Kenny got upset easily when he felt overwhelmed by a physical challenge. But I had only a brief instant to wonder what he was going to do before he acted. He readjusted his grip and kept going.

Kenny reached the top and slid down the other slide. Having experienced success, he climbed up and slid down again several more times. Each time, he climbed bravely. Sometimes, he started to fall, as we both knew he would, but each time, he kept going. Later, he was able to make the climb by himself.

Kenny’s attitude that day was a beautiful picture of what our attitudes should be toward surmounting the obstacles in our lives. He was willing to attempt anything, even to the extent of falling, if he knew I was behind him. How much more, then, should we be willing to face anything God causes or allows into our path with the same courage, knowing that even if we fall, our heavenly Father is right there behind us?

You see, we are all like Kenny in some way. We each have our own difficulties. Maybe yours, like his, are physical. Maybe they’re circumstantial. Maybe they’re similar to those of friends you know; maybe they’re like no one else’s. Whatever they are, you have yours, and I have mine.

The question is, what do we do about them? Do we allow them to keep us at the bottom of the slide, afraid to try because we’re sure—or at least pretty certain—we’ll fail? Or do we start climbing up the slide, knowing that even if we fall, God’s arms will be right there to catch us?

It takes courage to attempt something that is difficult for us. Nobody likes to fail, and sometimes, failure is a possibility. But courage comes a lot easier if you trust, not in your own ability to succeed, but in God’s ability either to help you succeed or to support you adequately if He allows failure.

If Kenny hadn’t tried the slide, he wouldn’t have experienced difficulty and near-failure several times. Nor would he have experienced the thrill of success.

If we don’t attempt difficult things in our lives, we won’t experience failing in the attempt. But we also won’t experience being used mightily of God in those things. And those people we might have been used mightily to touch won’t experience the benefits of our having made ourselves available to God.

I don’t know what the obstacle is that you have to climb. I don’t know whether it looks like the gentle slope in my front yard or like Mount Everest. I don’t know whether you would reach the top if you started to climb. But I do know that God can use you no matter how far up the side of the mountain you get.

Precious mommy, is there a mountain in your life that God wants you to start climbing? Are you uncertain you can do it?

Start climbing anyway. Trust God either to enable you to succeed, or to catch you when you fall. And know that as long as you give it your best and fullest effort, He is pleased with the attempt.

Psalm 55:22—Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall.

Isaiah 46:4—Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

Pink Icing with Sprinkles

Megan Breedlove December 22, 2008 0 Comments

Recently, a new bakery opened not too far from our house, on a street we travel frequently. Every time we drove past it, my husband or I would say, “We really ought to try them out one day.”

One day, it was time. My husband was driving past it with the three older kids with him, and he decided to stop in. They parked and went into the store.

The bakery was filled with all kinds of luscious Mexican pastries and baked goods, the likes of which the kids had never seen before. The cases were stocked with delicious-looking treats, with fancy designs and colors of icing. Our kids looked around at all the beautiful things, trying to decide which they wanted.

It was then that they came to the case in the back. In that case were relatively plain, cake-looking pastries with pink icing and sprinkles on top. No exotic colors or artistry, just plain, we’ve-seen-this-before, pink icing and sprinkles.

So, faced with the choice between something elegant, fancy, and new, and something plain that they were used to, our gourmet kids chose…that’s right…the cake with pink icing and sprinkles.

When my husband came home and told me about it, I thought it was kind of funny. In the wonderland of baked goods, the kids had chosen traditional.

Then, I realized something that wasn’t so funny.

We are lot like that, spiritually speaking.

You see, our Father has prepared a vast array of delights for us. He’s prepared things we’ve never seen before, things that would fill our spiritual senses and delight us, if we would just try them.

Instead, we ignore his treasures spread out before us, and we choose what we’re used to. The same old stuff is good enough, so why would we want to risk trying something more?

Friends, we often don’t experience even a fraction of the pleasures God has for us because we think what we are used to is good enough. After all, it’s rather pleasing, so why risk stepping out on faith and trying something new? We might not like it.

The analogy ends there, because in the case of my kids, it’s entirely possible that they wouldn’t have enjoyed a different treat, had they selected one. But it is not in the least possible that we would not delight in the spiritual treats God has for us, if we would just be willing to try them.

Risk speaking to someone God directs us to speak to? No way. What if they rejected us, or worse, laughed at us?

Risk taking a new job, or a new position at church, and doing something we’ve never done before? No way. What if we failed? That might make us look bad.

Risk obeying God’s instructions to the fullest, even if that causes us to suffer in some way? Never. Who wants to suffer?

It’s all about priorities. Of course, no one enjoys suffering, or rejection. But if our priority is to experience the abundant life God has for us, we need to realize that it may not look quite like we would design it.

Would we rather live safely, sure of acceptance, or would we rather experience the joy of knowing what it’s like to stand alone for Christ?

Would we rather live comfortably, free from as much suffering as possible, or would we rather know the pleasures of being right in the center of God’s will?

Would we rather have the pink icing with sprinkles, or would we rather taste one of God’s myriad spiritual treasures?

You see, pink icing with sprinkles is tasty. It’s good enough. But it will never lead you to pleasures beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.

Ephesians 3:20-21—Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.

The Arcade

Megan Breedlove November 17, 2008 0 Comments

Once, my (then) three children and I spent the night in Houston with a friend of mine. She has a three-bedroom house, so that night, we made arrangements for her to sleep in her own room, her two girls to double up in one room, and me and my children to sleep in the third bedroom. She would have offered me more space—the living room couch, the futon in the family room—but I knew that my kids wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in wide-open areas without me right there. Plus, my then-two-and-a-half-year-old son would be able to get up and run rampant during the night. So, Amy and I dragged the futon mattress into the bedroom and set up the pack-n-play. I put my younger daughter, who had just turned one, in the pack-n-play, and my four-year-old daughter and my son shared the king-sized futon mattress on the floor. I slept in the twin bed.

Okay, maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. I did lie down and prepare to sleep—or at least, that’s what I hoped would happen. But the minute I lay down, Lindsey (the one-year-old) and Kenny began some sort of game that was halfway in between acting like Weebles and imitating Whack-a-Mole.

You remember Weebles, as in, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down”? You could push the Weeble over on its side, and the minute you let go, it would pop back up. And remember Whack-a-Mole, that arcade game where one mole pops up and you try to whack it back down with a hammer before the next one pops up? Well, I lay down to sleep, and Lindsey popped up in the pack-n-play, laughing. “Lie down, Lindsey,” I said. She would lie down, but the minute she did, Kenny would get up. “Lie down, Kenny,” I would say. He would lie down, and guess who would pop back up? (Thus, the combination of Weebles and Whack-a-Mole.)

This went on for about half an hour. By this time, I was considering all kinds of options I wouldn’t have considered just thirty minutes before. Benadryl? Didn’t bring any. Duct tape? Didn’t know if Amy had any. I finally decided just to wait them out. Eventually, they settled down, and I fell asleep. For a few minutes, at least.

I don’t know how long it was before I heard Kenny fussing. I could tell it was the kind of fussing he does when he is feeling anxious. “Kenny, lie down and go to sleep,” I said gently. Then, the next time, “Kenny, I’m right here. Shh.” Then the next time…well, I don’t remember all the things I said, because I must have reassured him, either verbally or by reaching down to touch him, at least three hundred forty-two times. Okay, maybe not that many, but surely at least twenty. Every time I spoke softly to him or touched him, he would calm down right away, and he’d be fine until the next time he woke up in a strange place and didn’t know where I was.

Has that ever happened to you in your spiritual life? Have you ever woken up in a strange place and wondered where God was? Or have you ever woken up just needing a little reassurance that He was still there—that He hadn’t abandoned you?

I have. And I bet you have, too.

We all need reassurance at times. Just like Kenny, feeling upset when he was out of his comfort zone, we get upset when we’re out of our comfort zones, too. What do we need during those times? The same thing Kenny needed. He didn’t need a lecture from me on why he shouldn’t be upset. He didn’t need harsh words from me, commanding him to deal with his feelings in a way he wasn’t capable of doing. He certainly didn’t need me to ignore his need. What he did need was my presence. He needed to hear me and to feel me, to know I was there with him. Only then could he feel secure enough to relax.

Friend, that’s what we need when it’s the middle of the night, spiritually speaking, and we’re upset and in a strange place. We need to call out to God and receive His response—to hear Him and feel Him. He may respond as a voice in our hearts, whispering comfort. He may respond by touch, using the arms of a dear friend to give us a hug. But He will respond. Just like I couldn’t hear Kenny’s need and ignore it, God will never ignore our need. When I heard Kenny fuss, truly upset, my desire was to reach out and minister to him. My heart wanted to help him. And God’s heart wants to help us, too.

But I never could have helped Kenny if I hadn’t known his need. If he had lain there, suffering in silence, I wouldn’t have known he was upset, and I wouldn’t have known to comfort him. Obviously, God knows our needs, whether or not we verbalize them to him. But when we reach out to God, we open our hearts to Him.

So the next time you wake up, and it’s dark, and you’re scared or upset, call out to God. He’s right there, even though you might not be able to see Him. Call out to Him, opening your heart to Him as you express your need. Receive His response to you. And then relax. He’s right there.

Jeremiah 29:12-14—Then you will call upon me, and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord.

My Tummy Hurts

Megan Breedlove November 10, 2008 0 Comments

Sometimes, I think teaching children to pray is easier said than done. As moms who love the Lord, we know that we should teach our children to pray, and we want to. Wanting to is easy.

The “how” of it is what gets difficult.

How do we guide them into a prayer relationship like we have—or like we wish we had? How do we explain why there ought to be more to it than just mumbling “DearGodthankyouforthefoodinJesus’nameweprayAmen”? How do we encourage them to initiate prayer on their own? How do we help them understand the amazing concept that they are actually talking to God?

Fortunately, it’s not all up to us. God’s Holy Spirit can and does work in the hearts and minds of our children just as He does in ours.

Perhaps one of the primary ways He works is to grant children a, well, childlike faith and trust in Him.

The other day, the kids and I were having family devotions (my husband was at work). We were practicing praying for each other. The way I’ve been doing this with them is to ask each child in what way he or she needs for us to pray for him or her. Then, the rest of us take turns praying for that child. Finally, the child prays for him- or herself.

That night, Lindsey, at two-and-a-half, wanted us to pray for her tummy, which she said hurt. Each of us took turns praying. Then, it was Lindsey’s turn.

“Now, you pray and ask God to help your tummy feel better,” I guided her.

Lindsey closed her eyes, bowed her head, and placed her hands in her lap. “My tummy hurts,” she said sincerely. “In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

Lindsey didn’t worry about how she began her prayer, or about whether she followed some acronym, or about how long she spent praying. She didn’t worry about using flowery language or including the “proper” elements. She simply laid out her request before God and trusted Him (to the limits of a two-year-old’s understanding) to take care of it.

Maybe we should do the same.

That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with using an acronym to guide our praying, or about trying to make sure we include all the elements we want to include, such as praise, confession, and thanksgiving.

What is wrong is when we focus more on trying to pray “right” than on God Himself.

God doesn’t demand that we follow a rigid protocol in approaching Him. Certainly, we are to come in the right spirit, but the “right” spirit doesn’t mean that we have to pray in a certain way. It means that we are to come to God with our heart right toward Him.

No instruction I could have given Lindsey would have helped her improve on her prayer. Maybe she would have learned to pray in more complicated language, or to include more elements in her prayer. But nothing could have improved on her simple, childlike trust in approaching God.

Dear friend, do you come to Him the same way Lindsey did? Do you talk to Him about your problems and trust Him to do something about it?

Lindsey didn’t spend the rest of the day wondering if God was really going to do something about her tummy or not. She simply told Him about her problem and then moved on with the rest of her day.

Do we do that? Or do we spend our “wait” time as we wait upon His answer fretting about what His answer will be, or maybe even about whether He will answer at all?

Oh, we have so much to learn from our children.

Simple, childlike faith.

Do you need that kind of faith? Do you need that kind of simple trust?

Ask Him for it. You can count on it that He will begin building it in you, for He has promised that if we ask Him anything according to His will, He hears us.

Then, practice it. The more you get to know God, the more you will know that you can trust Him.

And the next time you are praying with your children, listen to their prayers. Listen, and learn from them.

What might God be saying to you through the prayers of your children?

1 John 5:14—This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.

Mark 10:15—I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will not enter it.

Spinning Into Control

Megan Breedlove August 25, 2008 0 Comments

My daughter Lindsey is so much fun to play with. She’s cuddly and adorable; she has a great laugh and grin; and she enjoys life to the fullest. When she was around a year old or so, one of the games she loved to play was “spinning”. I would stand up, holding her facing me. She would wrap her legs around my waist, and I would cradle her in my arms as she leaned back, supporting her head and back. Then, we would spin.

Oh, I can still hear her giggles and see her delighted grin. She thought spinning was the greatest game in the world. I’d spin her once in a circle and stop so that I wouldn’t get dizzy. Lindsey, on the other hand, could go in circles for hours, or maybe days, without getting dizzy. When I stopped, she would beg me to start again.

I’d usually oblige her, spinning her in another circle, stopping, and letting her talk me into doing it again. We’d do it again and again, until I got tired and had to quit.

Have you ever played this game? If you have, you know that as your child leans back in your arms, you must carefully support him or her. You also know that as you spin, the force that is generated pushes your child back against your arms and hands. The faster you spin, the harder your child is pushed back against your outstretched arms.

Lindsey and I were spinning one day when I realized something. Our game of spinning is a lot like how life is with God. Let me explain.

Sometimes, God holds us close against his chest and cuddles us, as I do for Lindsey. Other times, however, as life spins crazily, we find ourselves held not against his chest, but against his outstretched arms. The faster life spins, the stronger the force pushing us against his arms beneath us.

Just as it looks to Lindsey like she is farther away from me when she is lying back on my arms, so life looks to us sometimes. We look at God, and he seems farther away. What we want is to be held and cuddled against his chest, and when we don’t have that, we get frightened and upset.

Was Lindsey frightened when I spun her? Not at all. Neither should we be frightened when life is spinning us, because just as Lindsey knew, we know that there are arms underneath us, and that the faster the spin, the stronger the force holding us in those arms.

We may not giggle and laugh as Lindsey does when we are spinning. For us, sometimes the spinning isn’t fun at all. Sometimes, it’s tragic. Sometimes, it’s just our own fault. Sometimes, it’s terrifying.

But think about this a minute. Could Lindsey feel the force pushing her back against my arms? Of course, she could. The faster we spun, the more solidly she could feel my arms beneath her. That’s what allowed her to laugh, squeal, and enjoy the ride. Without the feeling of my support, she would have been terrified. With my support, she was exhilarated.

Could we experience life the same way?

Maybe. Maybe not. When circumstances are agonizing, we’re not going to laugh. It’s not going to be fun or exhilarating at all.

But we don’t have to be afraid. We never have to be afraid. The same arms that cuddle us close are the same arms that hold us secure, even when life seems to be spinning out of control. In fact, it’s during the times when the spinning is craziest that those arms hold us most strongly.

We often use that phrase—spinning “out of control”. Dear friends, let me suggest a better phrase.

How about spinning “into” control?

It’s true, isn’t it? And it reflects the principle that when the spinning is strongest, so is the support. We never spin out of God’s control. God never loses control of us for any reason. In fact, during the times of life that feel most out of control, he gives us the incredible gift of letting us sense his arms beneath us the most strongly. As we spin, we are pressed into his arms. We spin into control.

The next time you’re spinning—and the time will come—remember this. Take a moment, and feel those arms beneath you. He’s got you. He’ll never let you fall.

Isaiah 26:3—You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.