I, A Scoffer Redeemed

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cross of Christ, crucifixion, Easter, hope, Redeemer, scoffer, sinner

It’s hard to remember who I would be without hope in Christ. As I look forward to celebrating the cross of Christ and His defeat of sin and the grave, it’s hard to accept where I would have been on that day.

My life is secure in that victory. I hope in it. I rejoice in it. I get so excited about Easter Sunday each year. I try to give that hope away in the things I say and the way I live. It overwhelms my soul.

Defeat in death will pass over my life because of a perfect Son slaughtered in my place. I celebrate that with the deepest gratitude. I’m thankful beyond words for something I don’t deserve.

I forget sometimes that if I had been there on that day, I would have been a voice in the mob that called for His execution. That’s heavy to write. That’s hurtful to acknowledge, but it’s true.

I am no better a sinner than those present on that day. I am no more deserving of the saving knowledge and grace I have received than they were. I have no reason to think I would have covered Jesus with my body and defended Him as the Son of God. I am too good at sinning to think that a possibility.

Here’s why knowing and acknowledging that is important- I remember the core of the gospel. I remember WHILE I was a sinner, Christ still died for me. His heart was for me on that cross as it was for those scourging and mocking Him that day. This keeps me from thinking that when I meet someone who doesn’t know the hope I do that I am better positioned for grace than they are.

They aren’t going to know this truth if I treat them like a project or refuse to engage them where they are. They may hate God. They may not acknowledge His existence. They may believe that religion is a joke. They may think Christ is a mythical character, but that fact that there is grace for them too is something we can’t forget.

Not as a project or another gold star on your chart of times you’ve shared the gospel. There is grace for them because there was grace for me and for you. We didn’t deserve it more. We weren’t entitled to it because we’ve been made acceptable through it. It isn’t ours to dole out to those we deem worthy. None of us are.

Don’t forget who you were. Don’t forget that someone looked beyond that to share the truth of the gospel and hope of the cross with you at your worst.

This Easter, may an undeserved grace be central to what we celebrate. May we acknowledge what is true about the hope we have received, and may we always remember the price paid by a God who loved the whole world enough to slay His Son to make a way. May we love others beyond their faults always remembering that those faults are no worse than those we have. May I remember that in a crowd of scoffers, I may have been the loudest voice all while my sin was killing him- all while my sin held Him to the tree.

It is because of Easter that our debt was paid. It is because of Easter that we can love and share hope. It is because of Easter that Christ is the name above every name. It is because Easter that one sacrifice can save us all. It is because of Easter that we can know and enjoy Him forever.

Praise God. Praise Jesus. Today I stand a reconciled sinner, and I will celebrate His death in my place. I will love Him and give him my “Yes!” all of my days.

I am sharing the link to a song that reminds me of a love that paid my debt it did not owe. May we never stop hoping and giving it away in love. May we love people where they are enough to share with them the whole truth that suffered and saved us! May we love that deeply.

Beautiful Daughters

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beauty, Christian, Christian Women, daughters, gender, gender roles, identity in Christ, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, protecting children, sons, trusting God, Women

My daughter is stunning. She is sunshine personified. She is kind and brave. She is incredibly resilient and strong. She is wise and so incredibly smart. She is the best person I know, and she’s only seven.

At first glance the world will notice how beautiful she is. That’s right on the surface. There’s no work required to see that. There’s no digging into the depths of who she is to see that.

The world and most people in it will probably assume too much to soon about her. That’s what it’s always done to us. Women. We have always been put on display. We’ve always been counted out before we could step into the ring.

Boxed in. Trained to be quiet. Trained to just deal and go on. NOT MY DAUGHTER!

I don’t teach my daughter to be thin. I don’t talk to her about diets. I talk to her about making her body strong and healthy.

I don’t talk to her about fitting in. I talk to her about being herself. I never will encourage her to trade away what is precious about her for acceptance.

God didn’t make her for high school or popularity. He made her for His glory.

In a world filled with little girls who have been abandoned, it’s hard to relate to the idea of God the Father. We hurt because of those letdowns and deep wounds.

We cross our legs, wait to be asked to dance, and grit our teeth holding back our true selves.

Not my daughter. That will not be her life. She’ll know who she is should be celebrated. She’ll have a world full of room for possibilities and dreams. So will my sons, and they will be raised to make room for everyone around them to thrive. They will know there’s enough sunshine for all of us.

I will give that to myself. I will be the example of chasing down my dreams so they know they can too. They’ll know that gender should never determine opportunities. They’ll look beyond the surface. They won’t be trophies and they won’t look for them either.

I want their idea of what is beautiful to be what makes people uniquely and genuinely themselves. I want them to see that for themselves so conforming to any other expectation or standard of beauty isn’t what they reach for or want. They are effortlessly beautiful in who they are.

Not my sons. Not my beautiful daughter.

https://youtu.be/KiioYp28c7QThe Daughters, Little Big Town

Autism Mom

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autism, autism awareness, autism parenting, Developmental delay, expressive language delay, high functioning autism, Language delay, love, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, raising children, special education, unconditional love, Women

I started the day with the idea that I wanted to write a post this morning. I had an idea, but it got lost somewhere in the shuffle of the day.

Today has included a real meltdown.

It was time to come in for dinner, and Ethan fell apart. Screaming as high and loud as he could. Somehow he willed all his bones to disappear. He grabbed and pushed begging to go to his room.

That’s his safe place. That’s the place he goes to calm down- usually after stripping off his clothes. He was screaming and crying. I went to his room to make his bed.

He’s four, but he still sleeps in a pull-up. He stays dry most nights, but last night he soaked through his pull-up and pjs. He was screaming at his door while he was supposed to be going potty. He had to calm down enough to be able to go to his room.

I made his bed, put on his new dinosaur pjs, and he calmed. He asked to go eat more. I was so proud of him. That was a terrible meltdown, but he eventually self-regulated. In the middle of that chaos, it feels like it will never end. It ends.

It ends sooner and sooner all the time, and I see the progress. I feel overwhelmed in those moments, but I mostly feel heartbroken. It’s crushing to see everything hit him so hard and fast that he can’t adjust. It makes me sad, but it also makes me remember who we are all becoming.

I have not always been patient. I have not always been flexible. I’m actually very structured and rigid in nature. That person could never have been an autism mom. Having a child on spectrum has required me to rise up and become who he needs. He needs someone who can be firm, but can also really see him in the hard moments.

I have to see Ethan, not the behaviors. I have to recognize the overload he is feeling and responding to. I have to be his calm in the storm. That’s who he needs, and that’s what I fight for every day. I do better some days than others, but I’ll never give up the fight.

Moments come that remind me we are moving in the right direction all the time. Last night while I was tucking him in I said, “Ethan, momma loves you all the time.” He said, “No matter what.” That is usually what I say to him, but hearing him echo an understanding I’ve hoped he would have made my heart stop. In that moment, I knew he knew that I’d love him all the time. On the easiest days, I love him no matter what. On the hardest days, I love him no matter what.

There are legions of autism moms around the globe, and I want you to see us. I want you to see us when we are in the grocery store during a meltdown. I want you to understand why we can’t be inside while you sing Happy Birthday at a party. I want you to know that when the switch flips, we are powerless. I want you to see the hurt in us as our child struggles. I want you to see their humanity and ours.

We are trying to be who they need. We are trying to lead them into the world, and we’ll get there with a lighter load if all you give us is kindness and understanding.

Please don’t pretend we aren’t there or be disgusted with behavior you “would never allow.” Please understand that in the battle to make progress day in and day out, just braving the grocery store may be a win for us.

I hope that this post gives you new insights into what days and moments are like outside your home. If these moments and heart aches are ones you know, I want you to know you are seen and never alone.

I wore this blue shirt in honor of my Ethan on Autism Awareness Day. I couldn’t have picked a better one. Today I hope and pray for a world full of kind humans for all of us.

Be that for someone. We all need more and more kind humans in our lives and everywhere we go.