Sixteen Years of Blogging

This month marks sixteen years since I started blogging. It’s crazy to think how long its been!

I still remember the day I created my first blog. My oldest was a baby and during one of his naptimes, I came across an article in a parenting magazine about this new thing called web-logs. People were writing online about their daily life for others to read. The article suggested a couple of free blogging sites. I selected one and published my first post.

The first couple of years, I shared photos and brief stories about my son. I documented many of his “firsts” and wrote about our daily life. My readers consisted of mostly friends and family who enjoyed the pictures I posted. Periodically, I would share about something God was teaching me. I wrote about my struggles with depression. I wrote devotional pieces. I shared parenting insights and thoughts on motherhood. The more I did so, the more people would comment and say, “that resonated with me.” In the process, I rediscovered a love of writing I had forgotten about, one I set aside to focus on school and career.

I soon got to know other bloggers and joined various blogging communities of like-minded writers. I also started writing for other blogs, then ministry websites and publications. Through consistent posting, I found my writing voice. I discovered that writing was the perfect combination of my counseling training and my love of theology.

Blogging has changed significantly since the first day I hit, “publish.” Many people I once knew through blogging have long since stopped posting on their blogs. Some have switched to “micro-blogging” on Instagram instead. People interact with me more on social media now than in the comments. I also don’t blog as often as I once did. And over the years, the topics I write about has changed as I’ve aged and moved through different seasons of life.

Despite all these changes, I still believe in blogging. I still encourage the writers I mentor to have a blog. I believe it is important for readers to have a place to find writers. Blogs are like a writer’s home where readers come to visit. A blog also provides a writer freedom to experiment, practice, and stretch in their writing. And it’s a great place to develop a topic or idea over time that might eventually grow into something bigger, like an article or book.

Anniversaries are important times to look back and see how far one has come. Of reflecting on lessons one has learned and marveling at God’s faithfulness. I can certainly testify to all the things I have learned these past sixteen years of blogging and writing. It’s amazing to consider all the experiences I’ve had, people I’ve met, and places I’ve written. I had no idea when I posted that first photo and wrote about what my son did that day in June of 2005, what the Lord would do through my blogging.

What about you? Have you ever blogged?

Psalm 66: On the Other Side of Affliction

My husband recently bought me one of those exercise bikes that comes with a virtual coach. As you ride the bike, you watch a trainer on the screen who tells you how fast to go and pushes you to work harder. One particular trainer often relishes in the discomfort that comes from increased speed and resistance. She often says, “Isn’t this great? Don’t you just feel so good?”

Well, maybe?

I’m still deciding.

While some might appreciate the discomfort that comes from working out, we certainly don’t appreciate the discomfort, heartache, and sorrow that come with the afflictions of life. I know I don’t. I don’t see anything good in them. They are difficulties I avoid, resist, and run from.

But in reading the Psalms, I find another perspective on affliction. In Psalm 66, we find the psalmist leading God’s people in a chorus of praise to God. They exalt the Lord for who he is and what he has done. They remember his past works and honor his great name. They marvel at his power over their enemies. hen, inserted into this doxology, they praise God for his work in their afflictions. The psalmist conducts a chorus of praise to God for the afflictions he brought upon them:

“For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid a crushing burden on our backs;
you let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water;
yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance” (Ps. 66:10-12)

The psalmist sees these afflictions as coming from God’s hand. We don’t know the exact circumstances of these sufferings and it may refer to multiple afflictions God’s people experienced during their history, but from the words the psalmist uses, they are significant. God’s people were bound and ruled over by tyrants. They were ridden down like animals. As silver is repeatedly put into the fire, so too were they repeatedly tested and tried.

Anyone who has endured lasting affliction knows how wearying it is. They know how hard it is to endure, to keep moving forward and not give up hope. They know how often they cry out for God’s deliverance and rescue. They know what it is to weep and lament. I know I do. And to be honest, I’m rarely grateful for the afflictions the Lord brings into my life. I don’t appreciate the struggle of refinement. And I certainly don’t sing praise to the Lord for it.

In this psalm, we see their affliction was brought about by the hands of God for their purification. Just as a father disciplines his son, God disciplines his children. He brings them through troubles and hardship to teach and train them (Heb. 12). The psalmist’s words are a reminder that God is not unaware of the suffering of his people and that he uses even the injustices of the ungodly against his people for their good. This reminds us of the well-known words of Paul, “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28). It also reminds us that we shouldn’t be surprised by hardships and affliction when it comes, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you” (1 Pet. 4:12).

The psalmist looks back on the other side of their affliction and leads the people in a song of praise to God for bringing them through their hardships and into a place of abundance. Their suffering did come to an end. But not just to an end; they were brought into a place of abundance. The Hebrew word for abundance here is revayah. It means “saturation.” Imagine so much goodness that it overflows! As John Calvin noted, “The truth conveyed is, that God, although he visit his children with temporary chastisements of a severe description, will ultimately crown them with joy and prosperity.” As believers, we know this joy and abundance both in this life, and ultimately, in the life to come. We experience this joy here and now as God showers us with grace upon grace. We experience it through the Spirit’s work in us as he encourages us with the truth of our union with Christ. We experience it through the means of grace as we abide in Christ. And these are all foretastes of the abundant joy to come in eternity where all afflictions will cease.

The psalmist then switches from a corporate prayer of praise to that of an individual one. The rest of the psalm focuses on his own praises to the Lord, where he reflects on God’s answer to his personal prayers. During his own sufferings, he made vows to the Lord, and on other side of that suffering, he fulfills them (vv.13-15). He then exhorts the congregation to learn from him, to hear his testimony of God’s faithfulness to him: “Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will tell what he has done for my soul” (v.16). He reminds us that God listens to the prayers of the afflicted. Even more, God doesn’t just hear us; he pays attention to us, “But truly God has listened; he has attended to the voice of my prayer” (v. 19). What a good and gracious Father! Because of Christ, we can come boldly to our Father in heaven and know that he hears us. We can cry out for help and deliverance and receive his rescuing grace. Even more, we can know we are not alone in our sufferings, for our elder brother walked before us in suffering, enduring the ultimate affliction in our place.

Grace upon grace!

While I’m still undecided about how I feel about the burn and exhaustion I feel from riding my exercise bike, I trust and believe that the afflictions God brings into my life are for my good. While the trials and heartaches are not good in and of themselves, God uses them to make me more like Christ and prepare me for eternity with him. Psalm 66 reminds me of God’s goodness and grace in those sufferings, for as Hebrews encourages, God only disciplines those whom he loves (12:6). It also reminds me that praise is the appropriate response to God’s refining work.

As believers, may we exalt the Lord both in our hearts and corporately as we testify to one another of God’s abundant grace and faithfulness. How can you praise the Lord today for the work he has done in your own life?

On Motherhood and the Passage of Time

It’s the end of the school year here and I decided to begin work on a task I’ve put off for far too long: going through the numerous boxes of homeschool classwork. We have years worth of binders filled with lessons and worksheets. I saved my children’s work from the very first day we started homeschooling, partly because I needed to save their work for a portfolio, but partly because I just couldn’t part with it.

My oldest just finished his junior year of high school and it was time. I’ve dreaded going through his school work because I knew what it represented. I knew that opening those boxes and flipping through spelling tests, math quizzes, and handwriting exercises would shout out to me the harsh and difficult truth—time has passed all too quickly. I knew that sweet memories would flash in my mind, memories of snuggling up on the couch during afternoon read-a-louds, of combing the beach for shells during that year when we studied ocean life, and of laughing at my son’s insistence on illustrating every word on his weekly spelling tests. Memories of studying the Great Wall of China and constructing one of our own out of miniature craft blocks. Memories of cheering on Odysseus as he pushed forward in his long journey home. Memories of lapbooks and unit studies and field trips. I knew that such memories would usher forth tears, and I wasn’t wrong.

When we started homeschooling my oldest in the first grade, we thought it would be temporary. We expected to do it for a few years at most. But we soon realized that it was a perfect fit for him. He thrived in homeschooling and my youngest soon joined him. When we moved to a city where there were many options for homeschoolers to take classes, he thrived there too. When we switched his brother to a local Christian school, my oldest wanted to continue homeschooling. He’ll enter his senior year this fall and our homeschool story will soon come to an end.

I look at both my kids now, who both stand far above me, and struggle to see the little boys they once were. Sometimes, when they smile or laugh at a silly joke, I catch a glimpse of their childhood, but then just as quickly, it is gone and all I see are whiskers across a man’s jawline. I then hear the jangle of car keys and they are out the door to see friends. It seems like yesterday my oldest was learning to count; now we are registering him to take Calculus in the fall. Our conversations which once centered on all the “why?” questions of life and how things work, now focus on plans for the future.

My life over the years has revolved around the school day and the school year. I’ve measured time by classes, semesters, and summer breaks. In between those times were hard and difficult days when no one wanted to do their work and I longed for a substitute teacher to come in and take over. On other days, I wanted to resign my job as teacher, principal, janitor, and lunch lady all together. On those days, I looked forward to the next stage when things would be easier. I looked forward to days when I would be in less demand. I longed for moments of peace and quiet. Sometimes, I even imagined what else I could do with my time. To be honest, there were even days when I wallowed in self-pity, reminding myself of all I gave up to teach my kids at home.

Yet all those years have flown by all too fast. My days as a teacher have since shifted to that of tutor and guidance counselor and those jobs too will soon end. While part of me wants to rewind time and go back to those afternoons when we all sat and listened as we took turns reading aloud the day’s history lesson, part of me also loves watching my sons grow and mature into young men. I love seeing the labors of my years, the sacrifices of my days, bear fruit. I love witnessing the Lord’s work in their lives. And I look forward to seeing what he does in them in the years to come. Because the truth is, all along I’ve merely been a steward in their lives. They belong to the Lord and his calling on me as a mother will all too soon transition to a different role. While I will always be their mother, I won’t always be involved in their day to day life. I won’t always be needed. I won’t always be their primary instructor.

As I flipped through those binders of days past, I was reminded all the more that my job was temporary— that I didn’t have tenure after all.

Moms, the days are long but the years are short. Those days of pushing through exhaustion do not last forever. Those days of picking up toys and wiping faces and teaching the same lesson over and over will soon pass. Those days of watching the clock tick by all too slowly until bedtime will be gone before you know it. May we, like Moses, ask the Lord to teach us to number our days (Ps. 90). May we steward our brief time for God’s glory. For our “days are like grass” (Ps. 103:15) and all too soon, our time with our kids will be past.

Seminary, Five Classes In

A few years ago, a board member at my alma mater said to me, “Every Christian should go to seminary.”

I had long tossed the idea around of taking seminary classes, but life always seemed too full and too complicated. The older I got, the more reasons I found not to do it.

But after our conversation, I picked up the idea again. I tried it on and considered it. I talked to other women I knew who had gone to seminary to get their perspective. I went for a tour and asked lots of questions.

And then I made the leap.

I imagine there are others out there who have also considered taking seminary classes. Perhaps you’d like to understand your Bible better. Perhaps you love theology and know you will enjoy talking with other likeminded students. Perhaps you are like me and want to take classes to help you in your writing or teaching. Perhaps you desire a degree to equip you in your current work in ministry or to prepare you for future Kingdom work. For all these reasons and more, I wholeheartedly recommend it.

One thing I know to be true: There will never be a perfect time in life to pursue theological training. There are always going to be barriers and interruptions that make it difficult to add classes to an already full life. I’ve been taking classes in between writing projects (because to be honest, my middle age brain can only do so many things at once!) But that doesn’t mean that everything goes smoothly when I do take a class. This semester found me faced with multiple distractions, most of which were unexpected. Every time I planned to devote a day to studying, inevitably someone needed my help. A child got sick. An important errand needed attending to. An unexpected task needed my attention. Life simply got complicated.

So, yes, it is hard to add something like a class to the busyness of everyday life. But it’s also worth it. The classes I’ve taken have answered so many questions I’ve long had about the Bible and the Christian faith. They’ve given me words and categories to better express what I believe and why. They’ve helped enrich my faith, adding a beautiful depth and awestruck wonder to what I already knew. I’ve loved every class. Each one has taught me things I didn’t even realize I needed to know. Each one has drawn me closer to my Savior. And I think that’s why my friend believes every Christian should go to seminary, for it strengthens a believer’s walk with the Lord.

Everyone asks me if I am just auditing classes or pursuing a degree. I always respond that eventually— hopefully—I will earn a degree. I’m just on the ten to twelve year plan, taking one class at a time.

I am currently finishing up my fifth class with RTS (Hermeneutics). It’s the class my pastor told me would be the most important class I’d ever take in seminary. While I took Hermeneutics in undergrad, at the seminary level, it went much deeper than what I previously learned. I’ve finished the class with the realization that I have so much more to learn! This class has pushed me, challenged me, and fed me. It will be foundational to all the other classes I’ve yet to take.

If you’d like to try seminary on for size, many offer free online lectures to give you taste of what to expect. There are also many class options to fit your life and schedule, whether in-person classes or virtual. Some offer certificates in addition to degrees.

As Christians, we should seek to grow in our knowledge of God and his word. We should seek to be equipped to live as his ambassadors and emissaries in this world. And seminary is one way to do that.

What about you? Have you attended seminary or considered it?

Running the Race

At the end of last year, my oldest decided he wanted to run his first marathon. He developed a training schedule and then proceeded to prepare for the race. He kept track of his weekly mileage and followed his plan each day. This spring, we traveled with him to Dallas where he ran all 26.2 miles.

I’m not a runner, so watching my son accomplish this goal was remarkable. We met him at different spots along the race route to cheer him on. My youngest tagged along with him at the final stretch. We were thrilled he finished the race well.

I couldn’t help but think of my son’s marathon when I recently taught on Philippians in our women’s Bible study at church. In Philippians 3, Paul speaks against Judaizing Christians who were teaching that circumcision was necessary for salvation. He goes on to talk about putting confidence in Christ rather than in the flesh, or in one’s circumcision. While Paul had every reason to boast and put confidence in his Jewish heritage, his training in the law, his religious upbringing, he instead says he counts all these things as rubbish in order than he would gain Christ (v.8). What he wanted more than anything else was, “that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (v. 10).

Paul then tells the Philippians that he has not yet achieved this; he hasn’t yet attained his goal. He is not perfect. But he is pressing forward. “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (vv.12-14).

Like a runner training for a race, Paul keeps his mind focused on his goal, not looking behind him, but ahead of him. He is in pursuit of the prize of “the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” That upward call is a heavenly summons. A heavenly calling. That calling is part of the golden chain of salvation: “And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified” (Rom. 8:30). He uses words like “straining forward” and “press on,” which are active words. They make me think of a runner running those last few miles of a race. They are exhausted, but they press on in order to finish.

For the church at Philippi, Paul’s words must have been encouraging. Here is the Apostle Paul, one with an amazing pedigree, pointing out that he is not perfect. Even more, he reminds them that his goal won’t be reached because of some perfection within himself, but because of what Christ has done, “I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” Unlike other races we may run in life, the race of faith has already been won for us by Jesus Christ, our Savior. We merely live out what is already true. We run forward to receive the prize already waiting for us at the finish line.

Paul encourages the Philippians—and you and I—to keep striving forward. To stay in the race. To not look to the past, but to keep our eyes on Jesus Christ. He tells us elsewhere to run the race like we mean it—not casually, but with intentionality. “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it” (1 Cor. 9:24). Like my son setting his running goals each day, and diligently training for the marathon, we ought to take our race of faith seriously. We ought to run with determination to receive the prize we’ve already won through Jesus Christ.

The Apostle then reminds us that we don’t run this race alone. There are others who are ahead of us, who’ve run the race far longer than we. Paul tells us to look at these believers and imitate them, “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us” (v.17). These racers can point out the dangers on the path, help us up when we’ve fallen, and urge us onward when we get discouraged. Like my youngest son who jumped into the race to encourage his brother in the last mile, we need fellow believers who don’t just cheer us on from the sidelines, but who will also turn back and help us along when we need it.

While I don’t run in physical races, I do run in a spiritual race. Paul’s words to the church in Philippi remind me how important this race is and encourages me to keep training, to keep running, to keep straining to receive the prize Christ has already won for me.

Are you running too?

Meditating on God's Word

“I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways” (Psalm 119:15).

Not too long out of college, I was working as a family counselor for a local non-for profit. During a staff meeting one week, my boss announced that one of the team members would lead us in a time of guided meditation. Though I had heard about the practice, I didn’t know what to expect. My co-worker began by instructing us to empty our minds. She continued on through various exercises to bring us to a place of relaxation so that we could encounter a place of peace in our minds. I soon found myself feeling uncomfortable with the exercise and instead spent the time in silent prayer. After the exercise was over, a few people shared their experiences—one shared how she had relived her birth into this world.

I share this story because sometimes when we come across a reference in Scripture about meditating on God’s word, as in the passage above, we might be confused, especially if we use the word “meditate” as other religions or philosophies might use it. The key difference is that biblical meditation isn’t about emptying the mind, but about focusing it on God and his word. It isn’t about seeking a higher form of consciousness in order to reach our inner divinity; rather, it is about communion with God through prayer and his word. It isn’t about seeking access to divine resources found within a person, but about accessing and feasting on the divine word of God—which is our very life (Deut. 32:47).

J.I. Packer once wrote in Knowing God, “Meditation is the activity of calling to mind, and thinking over, and dwelling on, and applying to oneself, the various things that one knows about the works and ways and purposes and promises of God. It is an activity of holy thought, consciously performed in the presence of God, under the eye of God, by the help of God, as a means of communication with God. Its purpose is to clear one’s mental and spiritual vision of God, and to let His truth make its full and proper impact on one’s mind and heart. It is a matter of talking to oneself about God and oneself; it is, indeed, often a matter of arguing with oneself, reasoning oneself out of moods of doubt and unbelief into a clear apprehension of God’s power and grace.” (p.23).

Psalm 119 is known as a psalm entirely devoted to God’s word. In every verse, the psalmist refers to God’s word in some way. In several passages, he talks about meditating on God’s word, as listed below. The psalmist uses the Hebrew word siach which is translated as our English word, meditate. It means to muse, complain, talk (of).

“I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways” (Psalm 119:15).

“Even though princes sit plotting against me, your servant will meditate on your statutes” (Psalm 119:23).

“Make me understand the way of your precepts, and I will meditate on your wondrous works” (Psalm 119:27).

“I will lift up my hands toward your commandments, which I love, and I will meditate on your statutes” (Psalm 119:48).

“Let the insolent be put to shame, because they have wronged me with falsehood; as for me, I will meditate on your precepts” (Psalm 119:78).

“My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise” (Psalm 119:148).

One could say that Psalm 119 is one long meditation on the word of God. In these verses above, we see the psalmist dwelling on God’s word. We see that it involves communication with God, for the psalmist asks God to teach him about his precepts. He is worshipful as he does so, lifting up his hands toward the heavens. Such meditation is not a passive event, for the psalmist is fixing his eyes on God and his ways. Even when he faces obstacles or challenges from his enemies, the psalmist turns to what he knows is true about God. If you were to do a word study on this Hebrew word for meditate, you’d find other passages where the writer even complains and moans to himself about God.

There’s another word used for meditate in the Bible, hagah. It means to moan, growl, utter, speak, muse. We find it in passages like, “his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night” (Ps. 1:2) and “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands” (Ps. 143:5). This form of meditation is more verbal, like thinking out loud—perhaps even like talking back to yourself.

For the Christian, meditation is an important spiritual practice. It is word centered and God exalting. It brings clarity to the confusion of life. It reorients our wandering hearts to the truth. It anchors us in chaos. Like the psalmist, may we ruminate, dwell, contemplate, ponder, muse, and talk to ourselves about God’s word “day and night.”