The Little Boy That Saved The Day

Happy birthday, my baby!

Noah is six years old today and, as we celebrate his arrival into the world, I can’t help but reminisce about how his arrival into our home, at one-month old, marked a turning-point in our story that changed the course of our family and saved our marriage.

Six years ago I didn’t know if we would make it. It is strange to say this now when our life is just right, but six years ago the story seemed to be at an end. We had been married six years, and the last one of those had been a nightmare. We should have seen it coming but we didn’t: the stress of two demanding jobs, being parents and forgetting to be a marriage, lack of communication, and selfishness had crept into our marriage quietly and relentlessly until we looked at each other one day and wondered How are we ever going to find our way back to what we used to be?

As Matt was preparing to take a new church in a town a few hours away there was discussion of me staying behind. On my part I was doing all I could to make it happen, finding excuses not to go with him: the house needed selling, the move would mean I would start a new teaching job in the middle of a semester which I did not want to do, if I quit we would lose our health insurance and go down to one income for at least a year. We were broken, lost, and desperate people. The distance between us was widening and neither one could figure out how to reach over and bridge the gap.

But God, oh, this God who goes before me, who is more faithful to me than I could ever be to him, stubbornly refused to let go of us. He had put us together and his mercy would not stop pulling us, prodding us, opening doors to opportunities to regenerate, to find our way back to each other, to obey his law: that which God has joined together, let no one separate (Matthew 19:6b. Emphasis mine).

One night in early August we received a phone call from our adoption agency. A baby was born that needed a family. We were in no position to adopt an infant at the moment. We both understood that another child was not the answer to our broken marriage because new babies can add more stress than almost any other life-changing circumstance. Of course the timing was all wrong. But this baby was Isabel’s biological brother.

How could we say no?

So we sat and we talked. And we renewed commitments. And we worked on things for the first time in a long while. And we realized we had to heal our relationship for these children’s sake if nothing else. They were ours and we had chosen to be their parents and we had to make things right between us. So we did the only thing we knew could help and something we had not done together in a while: we prayed.

And we prayed. And we prayed. And we prayed.

We asked the Lord for a renewal of the love we once had. We asked for wisdom to find the path to restoration. We asked him and each other for forgiveness. We asked for strength to obey him, for courage to follow through, for faith that He could help us, and for a heart turned upwards and not inwards. And we cried out together for his presence in our marriage.

And when we got up from our knees it was decided: we would bring Noah home, we would leave the house to sell itself, we would deal with the job and loss of insurance and loss of income, and I would move with Matt to start afresh again. We would trust God to help us do what seemed impossible to save our family.

And He delivered. As He always does.

One by one God closed the doors to my excuses and provided an answer to each of my But, Lord… Because of Noah, I was given both health insurance and paid maternity leave from my last job while I waited to start on the new one. Because I was on maternity leave I was hired to start a new teaching job mid-year, in January, in our new town. The house sold, not quickly, but quickly enough. And even though we were the poorest we had been in a while we lacked nothing.

As a testimony to God’s incredible power and grace, we were experiencing most of the worst stressors that a marriage can withstand at the same time: a new town, a new job, a new baby and a toddler, going from a house to a two bedroom apartment, the financial burden of the adoption, and the loss of one income.

Yet we had never been so happy.

This time we were dealing with life’s difficulties from our knees together. God’s timing in bringing Noah to our lives changed the end of our story. And while I don’t advocate adding a child to your family to save your marriage, his arrival shook us awake from our selfishness and self-centeredness. God had a bigger plan for us and we had a responsibility not only to survive but to thrive as a couple not only for the sake of Isabel and Noah’s future, but for ours as well.

As I thank God today for this little baby who came in the nick of time to a hurting family and saved the day, I am reminded in a small way of another little One who came more than two thousand years ago to a hurting world to save all who would believe in him.

Thank you, Jesus, for Noah’s life and for the one You gave so I could be telling this story today.

Of Late Fees and Beatitudes

We bought a stove after eight months of cooking with two burners and having no oven. It was a good deal: half price, discounted, discontinued, last one in stock. We could not have done better! And then the clerk offered us an even steeper discount if we signed up for the credit card. We are fiscally conservative and owe no credit card debt. So we did it. And promptly paid the balance when the payment came due.

And then came the perfect storm.

The payment, while made on time, was just late enough in the day that it went through the following business day, accruing a slight penalty, which we did not know we had because we had mistakenly signed up for paperless billing.  But we paid in full. No bill, no worries, right?

Except for the automated phone calls. “Sorry we missed you. Please call us about your Sears card” every time I picked up the phone. You didn’t miss me! Here I am! Talk to me! Since nobody would talk, I assumed it was another offer. More credit. Lower rates. We didn’t need either. I didn’t call.

No e-mails either. I pay the bills in our house and everything goes to my e-mail account. No e-mails, no worries, right?

Except when Matt finally called to please ask that we no longer receive the annoying daily phone calls we found out the slight penalty had snowballed three months worth of interest. Frustrated, he used his “ma’am” voice to explain clearly and without a doubt that we had NO idea of the penalty, that we had NO idea what the phone calls were about and that we would have paid the bill right away IF we had known about it. They waved the fee and gave us the benefit of the doubt. 

Problem solved, right?

Except it was still the perfect storm.

A month later we found out our bank would start charging $5 a month for the use of the debit card unless you had multiple types of accounts with them. We’d been wanting to re-finance so it was the right time to switch mortgages and avoid silly monthly fees.

So Matt went to the bank confident in our great credit and little debt to be told we had a small blemish that kept us from the best possible rates. No guesses here: the Sears card small late fee on a very expensive stove.

We called Sears, we raged and ranted, we reminded them of what we’d bought, that this was ludicrous over such a small amount, that we did not know about the fee, and on and on. They politely explained they would send it to their referral department and let us know.  “By the way,” they said, “it probably won’t get changed because it is not the bank’s error. But you can try…” Hopes dashed. This blemish would stay on our credit for seven years. So much for good rates for a while…

So what do Christians do when in trouble? We asked our church to pray. And they did. But I didn’t hold much hope because, after all, we had made a mistake and well, when you don’t pay your bill you get stuck with the bill collectors. Is God able to take care of such silliness? Sure, but He would take care of our needs either way, so why not let life take its course? Anyway, that’s theology for another day.

In any case, I happened to mention to Matt while we waited for the dreaded results that Sears should have at least sent us an e-mail reminder that we had a paperless bill. Every other company does and…that’s when he said: “Maybe they did…” Oh. No. Please. No. They did. To his e-mail. Not mine. Because he set up the account. Not me, as usually happens. 

This, of course, ensued a fight. “Why would you give them your e-mail?” “Why would not you NOT open messages from Sears?” “Why…why…why…” I walked away angry and in my room the Lord spoke to me: Are you perfect? Do you not make mistakes? Has he not forgiven you much?

Convicted I came back and hugged him: “We’ll get through this. We’ll figure it out. I’m sorry I acted like that.” We talked, we forgave each other, and we discussed the next step on our plan without the re-financing. No need. Sears called on Friday: blemish cleared against all odds! Praise Jesus for his faithfulness.

Sunday I was sitting in church listening to my sweet husband preach on the text of the week: Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy (Matthew 5: 7) and a light went on in my soul. God will not be manipulated by us. Nothing we do will change his mind if his mind is made. But like any loving father, He is true to his word.

There was no earthly chance of us getting that mark off of our credit. Sears did everything right and we did everything wrong, however innocently. It was divine intervention, of that I’m sure, because even the manager said it would never happen. And most often than not, God does not explain himself to me. I don’t know why at times He intervenes and why at times He does not.

But He explained this one:

We were shown mercy. Pure, simple mercy. And I understood exactly why.

We made the choice to stand together as a team against this problem rather than let it divide us, we quit fighting and forgave each other’s part of the blame.

We showed mercy to each other that afternoon.

We didn’t know at the time that the way we approached this hurdle would define its outcome, and had we known, it would have defiled the purity of the intentions, but I am convinced that had we reacted in a way less pleasing to the Lord we would still be stuck with the blemish. For seven more years.

Blessed are the merciful for they will be shown mercy. Those are not empty words but one of the many promises He has made to us that we can trust and live by. 

When I pray for you...

A few days ago I received an urgent prayer request for a friend in need. Immediately I began to pray. As I was asking God to move in that situation and be with my friend the thought hit me:

Does God really need me to remind him of a situation of which He was aware even before I was?

This got me thinking about the purpose of praying for other people.

Do I pray to call God’s attention to someone’s problem?

He knows the situation in even greater detail than I ever will.

Do I pray to tell God what He should do about someone’s problem?

He certainly does not need my advice on running the universe.

Do I pray to move God to action?

He is behind us, with us, and before us, always in constant motion.

But as I was lifting my friend in prayer, I felt the anguish of her situation in my own soul. And then I understood…

We pray for others to change our own hearts.

When I pray for you for a few minutes my heart is not focused on my own little world but it is connected to yours, hurting with you, rejoicing with you as we were commanded to do (Romans 12:15).

When I pray for you we become community, you and I and everyone else who is lifting you up and He is there because we join in before the Lord in petition, as were commanded to do (Matthew 18:20).

When I pray for you God reminds me of your need, He tells me what to do about it and moves me to action as we were commanded to do (Galatians 6:2).

In that moment of discovery Christ changed my focus a bit. I started to pray less for God to move in my friend’s situation, trusting He knows what to do, and more for him to keep her heavy on my heart so I would not forget her suffering.

I began to ask not for God to move but for God to move through me and to show me how to help her in practical ways, how to do my part to ease her pain and support her through this, how to be his hands and feet.

We throw the phrase around: “I’ll pray for you” without understanding the magnitude of the promise we are making. It is not a small thing to lift someone in prayer for it will change your heart and fuse it to that of the person in need as you help them shoulder the weight of their pain by your love and concern.

But prayer is powerful and much more than words sent up to the ceiling.

When I say “I’ll pray for you” I don’t want to mean I will sit in my quiet corner and remember you as I talk to my Savior, unless I am willing to move when He prompts and touch your life as He requires.

And if you pray for someone, He will require it.

Prayer must not be a passive act but rather one full of action. The type of act that prompts a phone call, a card, a meal, a check, a hug, a sacrifice.

This, I think, is the purpose of intercession: to bear each other’s burdens heart, soul, hands and feet.

Linking with Michelle @ Graceful for Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday.
and with Jen @ Finding Heaven for Soli Deo Gloria.

A simple request

In my early walk with the Lord I was petrified to pray out loud. I would hear the prayers of others and know that mine would never sound so beautiful, so fluid. Anytime I was in a situation where I would have an opportunity to pray out loud, I would wait quietly, seconds dragging by, for the silence to be filled by someone else calling on God. I was embarrassed of stumbling. I did not want to sound like a bumbling fool before these godly people whose prayers, I was sure, delighted the Lord in their purity and simplicity.

Praying alone was not a problem. I could be honest with God and just be myself. But to open my mouth in front of others, that was a different story. I made it through high school and college mostly dodging the spotlight of prayer.

When you are a pastor’s wife, however, you can’t stay away from community prayer for very long, so soon enough I couldn’t hide anymore. I would be called to pray out loud often. And my face would turn red and hot. And my words would not make sense. And I would hear myself and think, as I prayed, you sound like an idiot; get it together; why did you just say that?; you need to stop now. And I was sure the pats and hugs from people afterwards were expressions of sympathy and pity for my poor attempt at divine communication on their behalf.

And I wasted so many wonderful years feeling that way…

I wish I could say I remember the moment in which this changed. I wish I could pinpoint a divine intervention or specific situation that opened my eyes to promises of spoken prayer but I can’t. At some point I cannot define, perhaps just out of growing intimacy with Jesus, I stopped worrying about what others heard and begun to dialogue with my “Audience of One,” to use the well-known expression.  I came to understand that to my Holy God my words sounded like music both in the secret of my prayer closet, and in the open of a spoken conversation.

I don’t pray long, elaborate prayers. I simply talk to my Maker. He talks and I talk and we talk. And my friends listen and are encouraged and I listen to them and I’m encouraged and together we lift our voices in a chorus of agreement and we call on the Lord, claiming his promises and his presence. “When two or more are gathered…” you know the rest.

And when I discovered the power of communal intercession I also discovered a new avenue to love. When someone has a need, rather than saying I will pray for you, I say let’s pray. And we stop, right then and there, and raise our voices to the heavens in unison, pleading and thanking. And I count it a privilege to share that moment with you and an honor that you trusted me to intercede on your behalf.

Let’s pray together…

Let me pray for you; let me hear you pray for me. I promise to never judge your conversation with our Father. I promise to simply listen, to echo, to agree. I promise we will be changed and feel closer to each other and closer to the Lord in the end. Be my “two” and I will be your “two” and He promises to come and listen and respond.