Christmas Eve

4:51 a.m. Andrew's crying, and he's crying hard. Fortunately, there's no fear of waking Colin. (We moved him into the office last night after another coughing/vomiting episode.  He's reacting to the antibiotic the doctor gave him, and now in addition to coughing his brains out, he's puking his guts up. Lovely.)

5:10 I make a bottle and arm myself with Tylenol. I'll try the Tylenol first. If that doesn't work, go for the milk.

5:25 I'm rocking Andrew in my arms. He jerks a few times, settles comfortably in my shoulder. I pray.

5:40. I try laying Andrew down to no avail. I give in and give him the bottle. 

6 a.m. Resolve to begin this day and pray some more.

I admit to feeling jipped. It's Christmas Eve, right? Isn't that supposed to guarantee a little reprieve from the day to day toughness of life? Doesn't God feel I deserve this? And there's that ugly word in our American vocabulary, "deserve." Talk about sending you into a spiritual tail spin.

I realize how much I label "suffering" is more likely "inconvenience." And I'm not so convinced that God's in the business of making sure that my life is as convenient as possible. Are my prayers going anywhere in days like these when my true intent is really, "God, make this day go smoothly," rather than, "God, make me more like Jesus,"? 

And then I'm reassured. God hears me, not because I pray right but because of the blood of Jesus.

 

Back by popular demand

Not quite. But thank you to some of my friends who've asked where I've been. I'm back. Well, no guarantees. I guess that's how it goes when you're the mother of five, two of whom have been sick for the better part of a month. The twins seem to have inherited my asthma genes. And so it goes that our days begin far too early with coughing, crying babies and slip away in the haze of breathing treatments. 

The holidays have wreaked near havoc on our already over-extended lives. First, Thanksgiving. Hours researching recipes for the PERFECT bird. For the first time, we hosted Ryan's family here at our house, and to be honest, all I had to shoot for was avoiding the annual call to the fire department. The turkey went in the oven around 9:30 a.m. with a shout out to the kids, "Pray for the BIRD!" The Lord does still answer prayer.

Christmas is three days away, and this entire month, we've been enjoying our traditional Advent readings, though it's never as picturesque as you imagine it will be. We're either both juggling babies on our laps, or one of us has disappeared upstairs for the bedtime routine of diapers and bottles. No matter the distractions, the kids look forward to reading every day. Even Camille, notorious for her inattention during family Bible reading, has virtually memorized every page, that is, with the exception of her answer to Ryan's question tonight. "To whom was Mary betrothed?" "I know!" Camille's hand shoots up. "The ANGEL!"

I'm hoping for some quiet moments in the days to come: to retreat from the relentless fatigue and anxiety of all there is to do to prepare for Christmas and to respond to the humility and grace of the Christmas story.

Election night

The votes are cast, and Barack Obama will be the next President of the United States. It's 11:30 p.m., and I should have been in bed long ago. The outcome is hardly surprising, and I could have read the results in tomorrow's headlines. But there is something historic about tonight, and I had to feel a part of it. It's a night I'll look forward to telling my children and grandchildren about.

Obama's speech tonight resounded with hope, and like many of those who gathered at Grant Park, my face was wet with tears. No matter what we think of Barack Obama, we can remember the words of another black man, a pastor from a generation ago whose personal faith in Jesus inspired a dream. That we've elected a black man to the highest political office signals something profoundly good for America. 

I didn't vote for Barack Obama. And neither did I vote for John McCain. The arguments matter little now. What matters is the future. 

Moral Clarity

In the New York Times yesterday, there was an opinion piece entitled, "What I Will Miss About President Bush." Six people contributed, and the one that stood out most to me was the piece by Ari Fleischer, the White House Press Secretary from 2001 to 2003.  "Mr. Bush saw the presidency as the place to call the American people to big challenges - in morally clear terms. As his spokesman, I knew that many people would be uncomfortable with how easily he made such moral judgments. I also knew that many Americans welcomed his tough, direct and unambiguous moral clarity."

All day yesterday, I let those two words, "moral clarity," turn over in my mind. Ryan and I had a conversation on a walk yesterday afternoon about a difficult situation he has to handle at work. Someone has lied and doesn't want Ryan ratting him out. Ryan's integrity, maybe in a small way, is nonetheless on the line. We talked about moral clarity, this ability to see right from wrong and stand on moral principles.

I don't know how often we can expect moral clarity from our Presidents. I wish it could be so, but it seems that the political game is played by compromise and concession. But one thing I do know is that I, a follower of Jesus Christ, must be a voice for moral clarity. And probably even more importantly, I've got to be teaching our kids these clear categories of right and wrong.

Hour of Clarity

Sundays are my favorite days. I've written about this before, but this was no more true than today. I realize that Sundays, especially the time of worship and teaching, is a rescue from the muddle of my week. During the worship service, I usually find a word in a song, a Scripture passage, or the sermon that anchors me in a truth that I desperately need.

Today, I had two words. The first was "wretch." I sorta wondered how much pain I'd spare myself (and others) if I more fully realized this about myself. Don't get surprised or humiliated by the failures. Just advertise that I'm a "wretch" and whenever anything more beautiful than that reflects through me, give all the credit to Jesus. 

The second was "power" and words related to it. And it chided me for being so strung out about this election. Power belongs rightfully to one Person, and He's not running for President. We're in good hands - Jesus is coming back as King someday.  

Tempting Faith

This is the title of a book by David Kuo, that I've just finished. This book is an important one for Christians struggling to understand their engagement in the political process. Over the last few days, I've been reading everything I can get my hands on to answer some of my own nagging questions like: In terms of politics, what hopes should we have for changing the world? How have important Christian leaders historically used their political power for good? (William Wilberforce, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King are the first examples that came to mind.) And what are the dangers of politics to which we as Christians should be alerted? (Here, I sought out Chuck Colson and Billy Graham). David Kuo himself speaks to many of of these questions.

He was an insider when the Republicans stormed Congress in 1994 and made the Contract with America. He later became an adviser to George W. Bush in the office for Faith-Based Initiatives. He's critical of the administration, but I don't think unfairly so. Kuo admires the deep personal faith of Bush. He believes that his passion for helping the poor was always genuine. However, Bush never put his political weight behind real policy for helping the poor. And what he saw from the inside of the White House was a string of empty promises (politically motivated as an means to court the evangelical vote) and double-speak to cover up the fact that he never delivered the goods on faith-based initiatives. 

This book is especially important for its discussion of power. Unfortunately, he talks about how Christians themselves are bought by this power. (He wasn't specifically referring to Bush so much as the pastors and Christian leaders who sought to influence the White House). Here's a look at some of his reflections on power: "The White House was also one of the most seductive places imaginable. Not just because of the perks, which are nice, but because of the raw power of the place hidden in a true desire to save the world. It is the ring of power from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. The longer anyone holds the ring the more he loves it, the more he hates it, and the more desperate he is to hold on to it. It becomes the most precious thing in his life. Priorities, loves, interest, life are lost in it. The ring owns, it is not owned."

I think reading this book helped me to wrangle less over the question, Who am I going to vote for?, and start the process of thinking more constructively about the power of the Church as an agent of change. I've got a lot more to say about this, but the kids are waking up, and it's breakfast time.

Life

This election has me tied in knots. And blogging is absurdly dangerous when it comes to talking politics. Here it is, forever in "ink," what I think regarding this election. I've said that I'm not entirely sure for whom I'll be voting. That's still true. (I'm leaning, yes.) But I may just bail on ever really revealing how I vote in the end. An act of cowardice? Maybe. But the truth is, I and you unfairly characterize people according to their political affiliations. Liberal, conservative, Republican, Democrat, have become our politely cruel shorthand for dismissing what someone has to say. I'm struck recently by what I'm reading in the book of Proverbs, wisdom to guide us not just in how we vote but how we critically engage in the process and respectfully disagree with others. Verses like Proverbs 18:13 (He who answers before listening, that is his folly and shame.), Proverbs 18:15 (The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge, the ears of the wise seek it out), Proverbs 18:17 (The first to present his case seems right, till another comes forward and questions him.) I myself am learning about what it means to be truthful in my characterizations, fair in my rhetoric, objective in my analysis, respectful in my disagreements.

In this election, protection of human life is of preeminent concern to Christians, and Christians are right to defend a culture of life in our country. I'm using my blog today as a platform to feature one such ministry doing this here in Chicago: Lydia Home.

We connected to Lydia years ago when we were members at Harvest Bible Chapel. I don't know exactly how it was that Ryan and I decided to involve ourselves in their Safe Families program, which is essentially short-term foster care, but in the summer of 2006, Juwuan came to stay with us for a week. His mother, a heroin addict, had gone suddenly into rehab. Juwuan (8) and his younger brother and sister spent the day at the rehab clinic waiting for someone, anyone to commit to caring for them. A state worker called in Lydia, and Tom Maluga started the placement calls. We agreed to care for Juwuan short-term until a more permanent home could be found for him. (Other families agreed to care for the brother and sister.)

Juwuan was a scrawny, agile boy with a wide smile and a tender heart. He was well-mannered and easy to care for. At the end of the second day in our home, he'd taken to calling me, "Momma." At the park, he could do a dismount worthy of Shawn Johnson from the swings. At home, he'd strap on Nathan's tool belt, take a wad of fake cash from the toy cash register, and saunter into the kitchen. "What needs fixed?' 

Juwuan left his home with nothing but a bag of dirty, old clothes: a random assortment of women's undergarments and over-sized t-shirts. He slept with the light on, and when I asked him why, he mentioned the nightmares. And the horror movies he'd seen.

His first night in our home, we put him and our kids to bed, and I curled up with a book in the family room. Hardly five minutes had passed, and I could feel his warm breath on my neck. I turned, and his crocodile tears started to fall. Awkwardly, I took this gangly 8 year old boy on my lap. "It's going to be OK." He sobbed and shuddered, and in this moment, I knew something of what it meant to be the hands and feet of Christ.

Juwuan left our home after a week. Others came (Jevonte, Jaylyn). Each has broken our heart in different ways. Each has taught us more about the love of Christ.

If you're in the Chicago area, would you consider taking a child into your home? Safe Families is experiencing incredible growth. Recently, David Anderson, the Director of Lydia Home, met with Mayor Daley who wants every Chicago police station and school and hospital to know about this program. This is a ministry to support life: life of the born children whose parents struggle with addiction, joblessness, poverty. Any of you can also support the ministry financially as well.

Find out more at www.safe-families.org.