Growing Up in Christ

Kids do stuff. They discover. They play. They have chores to do.

I've been watching some kids grow up over the years. Some of them have been left to their own devices to find things to do. Some are given toys and things to do (sports, enriching experiences, etc.). Some do the stuff of life (much of which is called "chores") along with the rest of the family. (For the sake of this conversation, I’m assuming the kids are given the food & shelter they need.)

Most get a mix of experiences growing up, but generally have more of one kind of thing to do than others. Farm kids do more chores. City kids maybe not as much.

Some kids get tons of toys. Some kids "go play outside" – sometimes in the woods & fields, sometimes in the streets and alleys (and the influences of the others playing outside can be pretty significant).

On the other hand, the kids who play inside with safe age-appropriate toys are generally cleaner and tidier than the kids who play outside in the dirt and stuff. That's probably part of the thinking here. 

I've observed that the kids who also do chores, and who are involved in the things the rest of the family does, these kids seem to mature more quickly than kids who are entertained more, with toys, with video games, with "age-appropriate activities."

It's not an absolute, of course: growing up is a complex thing, and a thousand factors and hundreds of people come play into it. And I’ll bet you a shiny new nickel that I’m not by any means the first person to notice such trends.

But I’ve noticed that kids that are given responsibilities early on, who are invited and expected to be part of all the things that the family does (which include the work of being a family) seem to mature more quickly, both physically and psychologically.

And as I was reflecting on (my over-simplification of) this trend, it was as if Father whispered, “Now consider that over here….” and he drew my attention to the church and how we treat new believers.

Pretty commonly, we put new believers into New Believers’ classes. I think of those as “age-appropriate activities.” It really is good information. Good things to learn. 

And of course, some new believers are left to fend for themselves, kind of the equivalent of “Go play outside” in the spirit. They learn who Father is to them and how to do stuff with Him maybe a little more naturally, maybe a little more urgently.

But things are probably messier, substantially less tidy. 

But applying my observations about kids growing up to spiritual children growing up, I’d expect that the new believers who, having been provided with the nutrition and shelter they need, are involved in the activities and responsibilities of a mature family of faith (including bearing burdens, healing the sick, teaching others), the more quickly they’ll mature. 

Walking Into Inheritance

 Each of my children in turn has brought someone home to meet the family. In every case, they were wonderful people. In every case it was an interesting experience; I experienced something of a time warp. 

You see, I’ve been praying for my kids since I first learned that we were pregnant. Part of that – me being the responsible dad and all – included praying for their future spouses. 

So when my kids brought their intended home to meet the parents, several things happened. We celebrated, of course, we blessed the relationship, we continued developing our friendship with them, all the usual. 

But I also recognized that with that announcement that they wanted to marry my son or daughter, they were also stepping into decades of prayer for themselves. Kind of a time warp. Science fiction becomes real. It’s pretty cool, actually. 

It has been interesting, even exciting, to see how these good people are walking in the things I’ve prayed for them since before they or their spouse were even born. And of course, my prayers for them continue these days, but now I have the advantage of knowing who I’m praying for. 

Since then, my kids have been having kids of their own, so now there are grand kids to include in the prayers. I love declaring destiny, generally destiny I hear Father whispering, destiny I see in the Book, or even destiny I see forming in their skills, interests, passions. 

I’ve been enjoying praying for these wonderful humans who share a quarter of  my DNA quite as much as I enjoy lifting up their parents who share a larger share of my DNA. (I find these to be curious thoughts.)

The other day, I was out walking with Father, praying for my heirs and descendants, when I realized that I didn’t need to know exactly whom I was praying for any more than I did when I prayed for my little toddlers’ future spouses. 

So I kept going, speaking life to my great-grandchildren, and their children, my offspring whom I might never meet. Blew my mind a little bit. And then it set me into my place in history, in the grand scheme of goodness that God is in the midst of. 

And yeah, it’s a little like a science fiction time warp. But it turns out that it’s real. And in reality, there’s no reason that any of my (or your) prayers should ever have an expiration date. And if my prayers never expire, then I maybe ought to target those prayers in light of things (and family) to come. 

So as I prayed for every one of my grandchildren’s children, and about their children. Occasionally I would get a glimpse of an individual destiny in the uncertain fog of the future. That always gives me more focus for that (potential) individual. 

(By the way, this isn’t limited to my biological progeny. There are a few individuals who have adopted themselves into a relationship with my family. They get prayed for, too!)

Things get complicated quickly. The average Christian family today has 2.7 kids, I am told. That means  that in a few generations, I might be praying for dozens, maybe even hundreds of of descendants. That’s a bunch of people that I’ve never met (and might never meet), but who will eventually count me among their grandcestors. My blood (or a little of it) will flow in their veins, my DNA (or a little of it) shapes how they will be crafted, my history with God (or a little of it) cut the path that they will walk. 

I confess, it’s a little bit overwhelming. (And then I consider, what must it be like for God, the Father of Life? No, that’s too much; I can’t go there right now!) 

I try to approach prayer like I’m trying to approach most everything in my world: I pray for the people and destinies that I feel like Father is drawing my attention to. (My big brother said it this way: “I speak just what the Father has taught me.” I like his example.) 

So I’m just writing to explore the incursion of time warps into my prayer life, to help to make sense of this path that I’ve been walking with my Father for a while now. 

If this is helpful to you, feel free to step on this path with yourself, and discover what kind of time warps he has available for you and for your legacy. 

Whose Answer to Prayer?

For some time, I’ve been praying some pretty significant prayers about somebody close to me.

There were some changes that I thought would be healthy for him to make in his life, but I very much did not feel the freedom to talk to him about them.

So I went over his head, and talked to his Father.

(It’s probably appropriate to point out that part of my prayers were for healthy changes in his life, but the larger portion were about getting my will out of the way. I sometimes find it a challenge to pray for people’s choices in a way that still respects their free will for their lives ahead of my own will for their lives. And the more I care for them, the bigger that obstacle is for me. Sigh.)

Last week, my friend asked me to go for a walk with him, and as we started, he said he had something to talk about, and he did not want my advice or counsel. (I interpreted that as, “This is pretty serious for him!”)

Then he explained how he had come to some conclusions and abruptly made several of the changes that I’d been praying for. I barely kept from jumping and dancing around him, so happy I was about him. 

We walked for several miles while he vented and I listened. I asked a couple of questions, but otherwise didn’t hardly say anything: this wasn’t about me; it’s about him. Toward the last mile, we discussed some of his goals for how to walk out these changes, and how I could support him and his changes.

I spent several days rejoicing.

A few days later, as I was talking with Jesus about my friend, supporting his changes in prayer. 

And then I recognized something kind of dangerous in my thinking. I was praying for my friend’s success in the area of these changes, when God quietly uncovered some things in my heart. I was seeing this as about me: these were my prayers that were answered, and I felt a responsibility to reinforce the answers in continued prayer.

I became aware that yes, my prayers had some not-insignificant effect here (He never tells me how much), but this isn’t my victory. This is God’s victory that He s sharing (and working through) with His son, my friend. This is not about me.

I’m still invited to pray for my friend’s victory, but I’m not invited to take ownership of the change, to take responsibility for his continued success.

Lessons on Leadership from the Flock

I learned an interesting lesson from my chickens some time ago, from their pecking order. And then I realized something new about them just this week. 🤔

The chicken app the top of the pecking order is concerned about maintaining her position, her dominance over the rest. She has no interest in discovery or exploration, because she’s busy maintaining her power.

The chickens at the bottom of the pecking order have no power to maintain. Therefore they have the time and the energy to discover new things. (Unfortunately, they regularly discover new ways to escape from their chicken yard. But it's always the hens at the bottom of the pecking order who discover this.)

I realized that this works for humans, also. People who are concerned about their position, people who need to keep consolidating or defending their position, are never the people who discover new things.

There is a key for leadership here, I think. Maybe several.

× If I am a leader, then I can either work to keep my position of leadership, or I can work to encourage and environment of exploration, of discovery. I probably can't do both.

× If I am not a leader, I can either work to become a leader, or I can work to defend my current position, whatever it is, or I can discover and explore. Pick one.

× If I am a discoverer, or an explorer, then I probably am not involved in jockeying for a leadership position. I am probably also not as ambitious for promotion as others around me either, if my goals are about discovery. (And my life may actually be more enjoyable, if possibly less “successful.”)

× If I am somebody who stretches to discover new things, new experiences, new ideas, then the people whose goals are about position, about power, probably don't understand me. They probably don’t value what I value, either. I probably should not look to them for encouragement in this area.

I was reflecting on this whole process here, when I realized something else. These principles were more true with my previous flocks of chickens. The current flock, well I raised these girls all by hand, feeding them by hand, cuddling them every day as they grew up. (Did you know that baby chicks are terribly cute and cuddly? 🐥 )

As a (surprising) result, this flock isn’t nearly as focused on position. There’s much less fighting over the pecking order, because they consider ME to be the one on the top of the pecking order.

So unlike previous flocks, these days when I walk into their chicken yard, they gather around me for petting and skritching and snacks and such; they don’t run away.

So there’s no “top of the pecking order” for them to fight over, because they know that’s me, it’s my job. They trust that I’ll do my job.

And they don’t spend as much of their days either maintaining power or looking for ways to escape their community.

I’m thinking there might be some lessons in this about being secure in our Father’s affection for us. 🤔 What say you?

God Takes the Blame

I have run into hundreds of Christians who maintain the view that if something happens in their life, it must be God’s will. They completely misquote Romans 8:28 as some sort of karma verse: if something happens, it must be God’s will for them; if an event occurs in their life, it must be God’s plan for them.

The verse says that God will cause the events in my life to work together for the ultimate goal of good, provided I love God and “are called according to His purpose.” It does not say that every single event is good (He seems to never comment on that), and the promise is completely void for those who don’t love God or aren’t walking in His calling. I’m bothered by the fact that the people most often abusing this verse are not God’s people. “Bad things happened in my life; it must be God’s fault, therefore I won’t love God.”

Grrrr.

This is such a blatant abuse of scripture that I find myself fairly angry when I hear people misrepresenting God’s word this way: exchanging what He said for what they think He should have said. And it bothers me when people assume that just because something happened (typically, something icky), it must have been God’s plan for them. Deliberately misrepresenting God’s heart is one of the best ways I know of to make a mess out of life. It’s one of hell’s favorite pastimes, accusing God.

Another thing that makes a mess out of people’s lives is their own poor choices. It seems that God was very serious when He gave us free will, though we often confuse the consequences of our free will – our choices – with God’s will. I know a man who committed several crimes and then blamed God that he was caught and put in jail, and a teenage mother that attributes her toddler to God’s will for her life rather than her night of passion with an eager classmate.

The funny thing is, God seems to take it all in stride. He accepts the blame for crud that happens. I have two primary examples.

1) The example of the life of Job.

The Book of Job is a long story about how Satan hit Job, but Job didn’t know it, and how Job responded. Job’s “friends” kept saying, “You must have sinned; this must be God!”, while Job, who was a righteous man, kept saying two things: a) to his friends: “No, I haven’t sinned; I’d know it!” and be) to God: “So God, why is this happening?”

Eventually (some 30 freaking chapters later!) God answers Job, and instead of saying, “Relax, Job. The devil did this, not me,” which would have been true, according to the first few chapters, God takes responsibility Himself for Job’s disasters, only answering Job with, “Look, son, I’m God and you’re not,” though He does restore Job’s fortunes. He also enters the record in the Bible for you and me to learn from. (Job appeared to learn his lesson: “I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, But now my eye sees You.”)

2) Bible verses where He claims responsibility for troubles.

I’ve recently become amazed at the number of places where God takes responsibility for bad stuff happening. Here are a few:

Ezekiel 20:25: Therefore I also gave them up to statutes that were not good, and judgments by which they could not live;
Psalm 81:12: So I gave them over to their own stubborn heart, To walk in their own counsels.
Romans 1:28: …God gave them over to a debased mind,….

In all of these verse, God is taking responsibility. He’s saying, “I did this,” but if you look at the context, each example was where people were making stupid choices and were experiencing consequences of those actions. I’m not saying God did not intervene; I’m saying that whether He intervened or not, the motivating force was the people’s unwise exercise of their free will.

In Ezekiel, for example, a dozen verses before God gave the people judgments “by which they could not live,” He described those same judgments as “if a man does them, he shall live by them.” So it wasn’t God’s judgments that were out of the reach of man; it was not following His judgments that kept them separated from life.

But God took the blame.

In the Psalms illustration, God gave the people over to their own stubborn heart after He laments, “My people would not heed My voice,” and then He immediately cries that this was not His plan. “Oh, that My people would listen to Me, That Israel would walk in My ways!”

And Romans 1 is famous as a downward spiral because “although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God, nor were they thankful.”

In every case, people made lousy choices and then bad things happened. I don’t know if they blamed God for the consequences of their actions, but God was certainly willing to accept the blame.

So while it irritates me that people blame God for foul things in their lives that come from the devil (in Job’s case) or from their (our) own stupid choices, God doesn’t seem to be too offended by it.

The first step to solving a problem, so the psychologists say, is to acknowledge we have a problem; the second step, apparently, is to identify it. If that’s the case, then I’m more likely to resolve trouble in my life accurately by correctly identifying the source of that trouble, particularly if the trouble comes from my choices.

If I’m failing at my job because I’m texting when I should be working, then blaming God may not help solve the problem; putting away the phone and doing the work may be a wiser course. Taking responsibility for our actions will be good for our well-being.

Some problems – like Job’s – aren’t from our poor choices, but from a demonic agenda, and these we may never understand.

I think we need to come to the same conclusion that Job did: He’s God and I’m not. There will be bad things that happen, and many of those I’ll never understand. But if I can know God, if I avoid building a wall of blame between Him and me, then whether I understand or not, I can – like Job – walk in the best available blessing.

Visible Answers to Prayer

This was an interesting line of thinking. Let me know what you think of it.

I was reflecting about prayer. I pray for a lot of things. But I don't see the changes, the effects of my prayers, as much as maybe I would like.

Part of that reason, no doubt, is because I pray for less-concrete things, and for people that are a long ways away. But for whatever reason, I was thinking about it, wishing that I was seeing more results, at least more visible results, from my prayers.

And since Jesus is my standard, I was thinking about him. He sure saw visible answers to his prayers in the stories the Gospels told, didn't he? I’m not trying to get big headed about it or something, but if Jesus gets to see the answers to his prayers so comfortably so quickly so easily, what's wrong with me wanting to see visible answers to my prayers quickly, easily?

So just thinking on that for a while (technically, that’s called “meditating”). I realized that the excuses I was given as a curious child had some truth in them: we don't actually see every single event that Jesus was involved in. It is maybe just a little bit presumptive to assume that every single prayer of his was answered quickly, visibly, dramatically.

So I consider that. And I realized, yep, it’s an excuse all right. It's an excuse for people who don't see miracles, maybe. Maybe it's an excuse for people who are tired of trying, or who never really tried hard in the first place. Or something. It’s a way of justifying not expecting to walk in the things we see Jesus, our example, walk in.

But the reality is that every single time that we see Jesus praying, we see dramatic, visible answers. We don't ever see his prayers unanswered. (Yes, there are some times that he prays that we don't know what he's praying for, so we can't tell whether those were answered or not. That’s not our issue today.)

So I was asking father if this desire to see visible answers quickly is appropriate, if this is a good thing to ask for.

Immediately, Romans 14:23b came to mind. “Anything not of faith is sin.”

When I'm asking a question and something pops in my head like that, I tend to assume that it is related, that it’s something of an answer. And I also try not to jump to conclusions, so I reflected: I thought about it some more.

And I realized something.

If I need visible answers to my prayers in order to pray with faith, in order to have confidence that father is hearing me and doing things, then that's not faith. If I need to see, then I'm basing my prayers, my life, on sight, not on faith.

Oops. There’s my answer.

Jesus got to see immediate answers to his prayers. That does not mean that his prayer life was based on what he saw. We know from the gospel stories that he took a fair bit of time alone with God, often in the wee hours.

I have had times where I knew the answer was coming before I encountered the situation. I’ve had many times when I knew what I was supposed to pray beforehand.

That certainly fits the facts as we know them: Jesus saw the answers in the spirit, by faith, when he was talking to Dad in the morning. When he encountered the situation during the day, his response was based on his encounters with father in the wee hours, not on what he saw in that circumstance.

So even though he saw the answers as he prayed, his prayers were not built on the foundation of what he saw. His prayers were on the foundation of his time with Father in the morning. He was walking by faith, not by sight, even though he could see.

The thought drifted across my mind, “If you always get to see the immediate answers to your prayers, would you be walking by faith? Or would you be walking by what you see?”

And as translated by Romans 14:23, that question is would I be walking by faith? Or would I be walking in sin?

So I am considering the idea that I need to be more intentional about seeing the answers that I am praying for in the spirit, in my private times with Father, before I look for them in public.

And maybe I need to guard my wishes. It appears that I might have been wishing for an easy way to walk in sin. No wonder Father doesn't want to answer that prayer.

So how do you see it? 

Fall Harvest begins in Spring

Last fall, I had a revelation about my garden, and it’s impacting how I prepare for this spring’s planting.

I was wandering through my garden last fall, cleaning out some of the plants that had finished: the tomatoes were winding down, the broccoli, cauliflower & cabbages were composting, the first crop of lettuce has gone and the second crop is winding down. The zucchini (there’s always too much zucchini) was feeding the chickens.

And I was inspecting the peppers and winter squashes and such that were still working on completing the produce that they’re working on. They were ripening nicely, getting ready for their own harvest shortly.

But there’s something of a problem, and this requires a bit of confession, and something of a backstory.

In the spring, I plant starts into my garden, but nearly all of the young plant starts come from my own greenhouse. In fact, I plant the pepper seeds around Christmas every year, and I plant the tomatoes and squashes later in the winter. I label them and nurture them as the seedlings grow into strong plants so they’re ready for a running start in my garden when the weather warms up enough for them.

End of backstory.

As I was wandering through my garden last fall, inspecting the results of my spring starts, and that’s where I discovered a couple of problems. I'm trying to learn from that lesson this spring.

One of the problems was pretty evident, and had been for a while: I hadn’t labeled the starts all that well. (And actually, the seed company that provided me with seeds also failed in this.)

I had a number of pepper plants that were labeled “bell peppers” that were producing a variety of other kinds of strange peppers. (That one is at least partly on the seed packager.) And I had a large number of tomato plants labeled as slicing tomatoes (my favorites are Brandywine and Cherokee Purple) that were producing thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of cherry tomatoes.

The other problem is where the real confession happens. We put pepper and tomato and squash plants out into the garden in May (we're getting close to planting season now!), but I'd been tending these little plants for many months, sometimes five or six months! These were my babies!

Here’s a secret I learned: some varieties of peppers apparently germinate at a higher rate than others. So I had a modest number of the bell peppers, particularly the baby-bell peppers that I value more highly (and many of those, thanks to mislabeling, weren’t actually bell peppers, but I’ve already groused about that one). Ghost peppers were particularly difficult to germinate (I use dried super-hot peppers as a pesticide: it keeps the squirrels off the bird-feeders pretty well!).

It turned out that fairly hot varieties, Lemon Drop peppers, Scotch Bonnet peppers and especially Sugar Rush peppers germinate really well. They also survive the first several weeks in a greenhouse at a better rate than baby bell peppers or ghost peppers.

So when it came to be time to transplant young peppers into the garden in the spring, I had a few bell pepper plants (far fewer than I thought I did, thanks to mislabeling), fewer baby bell plants, and only one ghost pepper plant (that turned out to be something else entirely). But I had dozens and dozens of the varieties that I only wanted one or two plants.

I had the same problem with tomato starts and squash starts: too many starts, and not the starts I really wanted.

But they were my babies. I’d already given away as many as I could find homes for. I couldn’t just toss my babies, whom I’d been caring for for so long into the compost. They’re like my children.

So I planted them in my garden, of course.

That was last spring. In the fall, I saw the error of my ways. It turns out that those fairly hot varieties (that I only wanted one or two plants of) are incredibly prolific. So I have dozens of huge plants bearing hundreds of fruits I’m not all that interested in that are crowding out the fewer (and smaller) plants whose fruit I really value.

And I realized that my choices to be “merciful” to those plants last spring had doomed my pepper harvest (and my tomato harvest, and my winter squash harvest).

And as I grumbled to myself, I heard Father clear his throat. “Ahem…..”

And suddenly I realized this is a life lesson. 

Somebody – and it wasn’t a gardener – once said, “Don’t plant seeds that you don’t want to harvest,” and a famous guy once said. “If you don’t like your harvest, change the seeds you’re planting.”

I need to change the seeds I’ve been planting.

But I can’t do that. Not now, anyway. That’s a change I need to make before I start planting my starts in the dead of winter. That’s a change I need to make when I’m getting ready to plant seeds in the dead of winter.

Fortunately, with the wrong peppers and wrong tomatoes and wrong squashes bearing fruit in my garden, that’s not a complete disaster. I can harvest them when they’re ripe and feed them to the chickens (chickens eat all sorts of things!) and then the chickens will give me good eggs all this year and great compost next spring.

But choices in my life, that’s a bigger issue. I’m still limping through the harvest of poor choices in previous seasons. I can’t change those choices back then, but I can learn the lessons and make better choices today and through this transition season that’s upon us.

If I don’t like my harvest, I need to change the seeds I’m planting.