Why Children Leave the Church When They Leave Home

{Heads Up! September 4th, I’ll be launching a brand new website, and no longer posting here on Mother of Pearls. In fact, you can take a look now at Cheri Dee Johnson. For those who subscribe, I’ll be send you a free printable: The Nonbiological Mom’s Declaration of Truth.}

To this day I remember how I landed …

stunned and pouty, on the floor where my mother had suddenly plunked me. I hadn’t realized I had been so squirmy, nor that the sanctuary was stifling hot in the crammed pews. All I know is that I was suddenly surrounded by big shoes attached to adult legs. Adults who sat transfixed by a captivating awareness of God.

When I was four- and five-years-old my dad was on staff at a church that experienced a move of God so powerful it impacted the entire town—the news of it landing bold-faced on the front page of the paper. Even as a young child, the overwhelming, loving presence of God was so palatable, it changed my life forever.

I remember. I remember sitting in church (most of the time on the pew) and watching faces glow and tissue boxes empty as people shared their life-changing stories. I remember seeing my mother on her face, weeping before God. I remember telling my grandmother how we had a peace in our home we hadn’t had before. (Yes, even church leaders and their families need life-changing encounters with God.)

I believe the reason many children raised in church grow up and leave the church is because they are missing two important ingredients. They don’t encounter God at church and they don’t experience Him regularly at home. It’s not that church is irrelevant – although that might be. But frankly, God is irrelevant.

Aug 21 Relevance
Photo by Angello Lopez on Unsplash

I know full well that revival (as they called this move of God) can’t be manufactured. It’s not the result of following a set of formulated steps.

But somehow we need to usher our children into tangible experiences with God if we want them to follow Him the rest of their lives.

I have a couple suggestions for you.

Make sure you’re in a church where the leadership visibly practices humility before Christ (the Head of the church). It needs to be a place where people linger before God. A place that puts God’s Word as the foundation. A church that’s not in a hurry to accomplish the Sunday morning routine and then go home.

He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything.
Colossians 1:18 (NASB)

And I cannot urge you strongly enough, the best place for your children to encounter God at church is in the worship service with the adults. I can testify loud and clear, that sitting in the sanctuary, even as a four-year-old, and seeing God change lives right before my very eyes, is what set the course for my lifelong lean into the Savior. I love the way John Piper explains it in this podcast: “Should Children Sit Through ‘Big Church’?”.

Then in our homes, our personal walk with Jesus has to be real, endearing, and top priority. We have to demonstrate more than just a commitment to an organization. We have to model more than just following a set of spiritual disciplines. Our children need to witness our hunger for the person of God. They need to watch us walk in daily relationship with Jesus. The need to smell that this relationship is fresh—not packaged. Something we breathe moment by moment, drink until we’re satisfied, and feast on as if we’ll never eat again. We must offer our children much more than leftovers thrown down like dog food in scheduled increments.

I’m not saying to not follow a routine or to ignore the disciplines. I’m saying use them as a means to experience, and model, an irresistible relationship with Jesus.

But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith, that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death;
Philippians 3:7-10

Now, let me say …

this is one area of parenting I feel like I totally failed at.

Partly, because I was so overwhelmed in running a household of seven, while attempting to keep a lid on trauma-induced behaviors. And partly because if children can’t attach to a parent, they can’t attach to God, and I had no idea how to get this message across.

But, I can also say, it was still clear that following God and living according to His Word the best we knew how was of utmost importance to both Bob and me. Our kids got to watch us do so for the four to twelve years they lived in our home.

More importantly, even though my children are all grown up with their own families, this modeling is something I can still do. Just because I’m an empty-nester doesn’t mean I’m a hollowed-out shell. Neither do I have to stalk my kids for opportunities to pry the gospel into their thinking. I just need to live it. Day in and day out.

This is a simple answer to a complicated question. But in truth I think it boils down to …

Aug 21 Soaking in Jesus. jpg

When it comes down to it, it’s not church that offers redemption. It’s Jesus. And when Jesus is alive and real in a person’s life, they tend to want to hang out with other Jesus-lovers. Church just happens to be a great place to find such people.

Was I a Racist in My Own Home?

Do you see yourself as a racist?

Probably not. You certainly hope not. Right? Me too.

You know I’m probably going to say something like “we are more racist than we like to think.” Yep, I am. But then, if we’re honest, that’s no surprise. Don’t we all prefer to hang with people just like us? People who look, talk, and smell the ways we prefer. But that’s not really being racist, is it?

The problem comes when we want to see people become just like us. It’s not limited to races. This desire nests in anything that defines us: our faith, our political alignment, our parenting styles, and even our economic status. In our heads we know that if everyone else was just like us, the world would be grossly imbalanced. But deep inside we actually believe differently.

This is evidenced in our families, as well—where our children were born into a culture different from ours. We know it will take time, but hiding deep in our hearts, is the expectation that they’ll eventually start thinking and behaving like we do. And so we either ignore, downplay, or try to root out the impact of their beginnings. It’s hard enough to transplant them into our families. But let me tell you …

August 13 Roots

Somehow we have to learn to be at home with these little people from different places in the world.

It took me several years to come to the realization that my children would never turn into “mini me’s”. How I wished I had arrived at this understanding a lot sooner.

The following are specific ways that helped me learned to embrace our differences:

1. We regularly celebrated their culture of origin.

On the annual celebration of their adoption day we prepared Russian foods: borscht, pierogies, kielbasa, blini, and other fun foods. We also purchased Russian candy and kvas (a drink I can’t stand but my kids love) from a nearby Ukrainian store.

Aug 13 borscht

2. We talked positively, redemptively about their biological parents.

I wanted my children to feel a connection to their parents, and have a sense of place and purpose in this world. I didn’t want them to go through life bitter at their parents. God’s forgiveness is available for every single human. Opportunities to change and live in His grace are available even to those who’ve hurt us the most.

3. I had to grieve the children I never got.

I didn’t ever want to be bitter that God had not enabled me to have biological children, so I didn’t let myself grieve very deeply. But one day, after about four or five years of parenting, I had to face the fact that I would never have a child who looked like me, walked, laughed, or talked like me. It took another three or four years to realize that because my adopted children would never become a reflection of me, I needed to have a funeral in my head and lay these children of my dreams to rest.

4. I had to release my adoptive children to be Russians living in America.

It probably wasn’t until our oldest had lived on his own for a year or so, that I realized I had to allow each child to determine what parts of their Russian identity and what parts of their American/Johnson identity they wanted to claim for themselves.

5. I didn’t have to change who I was and become like them.

It was a hard tension to live with, but in time I came to a peace that my children were going to operate according to a very different set of values than mine. Instead of focusing on how we differed, I chose to focus on what we had in common. For several years I remember thinking the ties that bound us were single thread thin. But that’s where I started, and in time those cords have grown thicker.

I think we all have a subconscious longing for others to be just like us.

Frankly, I suspect this indicates we actually like who we are. But, it also an indicates that we’re not sure we’re suppose to. And so we look to the choices others around us make to affirm that we’re worth liking.

Aug 13 Mirror
Photo by Septian simon on Unsplash

Maybe the racism that hides deep inside of us is something we need to take an honest look at. Partly so we can learn to accept people for who they are. But more importantly so we can celebrate who we are. I strongly believe that before we can accept others, we have to start with ourselves. Maybe that’s why the Bible records in it’s very first chapter that …

God created man in His own image
(Genesis 1:27, NASB).

We are little representations of God Himself.

Don’t you think that’s something to appreciate? Something to show off?

And if God’s image is coded into our own DNA, it’s keyed into our children’s as well. It’s displayed in every single person. How fun would it be to start looking for the evidence of the Creator built into every life? What kind of difference would it make in our families if we made a daily practice of deciphering the expressed character of God in each member?

Something I should have done, and I suggest you do, is keep a journal of the things you appreciate about each child (and your spouse, or anyone you have a hard time liking). This will not only keep your focus positive, it will usher you into genuine worship of the Father.

My Tongue Needed a Fire Escape

I have a confession to make.

Believe me, it’s not an easy confession. It’s confession of a sin I’ve never heard other moms confess—which leads me to think I was a really, really bad mom. Can you tell how hesitant I am to admit it? But in learning to deal with this horrible habit, I learned a very important lesson I’d like to share with you.

My confession: I used to swear at my kids. (Cringe.) Because I still feel the need to protect my image a little bit, let me clarify. I never used that one really, really bad word. I hate that word! To me it sounds like verbal rape. Also, … well, I suppose I could spend time trying to paint an accurate picture here, but the truth is, it just isn’t pretty no matter how much I try to dress it up.

Aug 7 lemuel-butler-515Photo by Lemuel Butler on Unsplash]

I wanted to blame my kids or the situation. I wanted to justify myself with, I can’t help it; the words just pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. Though it felt that way, I knew it wasn’t true. After all, I didn’t talk that way at church. I also knew God held me responsible for the things I said. Having memorized 1 Corinthians 10:13 as a teenager, I was convinced that He had built into me the ability to control my tongue.

No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.
(NASB)

One day I was doing an assignment for a women’s Bible study group. The passage we studied included James 3:10.

Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, THIS SHOULD NOT BE.”
(NIV)

I knew it was time to deal with my tongue.

So I had a little conversation with the Lord. Lord, I keep failing at this. I believe your Word and know there’s a way for me to muzzle my mouth. But I need your help in figuring out how. Right here. Right now. It’s time to get to the bottom of this.

Then the Lord taught me a simple little trick. It starts in your mind long before you ever get into a heated situation. …

You have to prepare.

Then He suggested I pick other words I could use. I needed to choose those words when I wasn’t angry so they’d be ready to grab and use when I was. Sort of like having a bag of tools handy at my side.

I never came up with a list of appropriate words. It was enough for me to realize that the way I could control myself in irksome situations was to prepare before such an incident ever arose. Frankly, it was enough for me to realize I really could keep bad words from popping out

In fact, this led me to a deeper realization. Any thoughts I had given attention to would eventually find a way to sneak out of my mouth when I least expected it. The key was to …

Not allow ungodly thoughts to loiter inside my head in the first place.

I learned that when an inappropriate thought or word passed through my mind, to say (sometimes out loud), Nope, that’s not landing here! I then intentionally replaced that thought with what God would think. I still do this.

A friend recently reminded me of a quotation from Martin Luther our former pastor once shared:

You cannot keep birds from flying over your head but you can keep them from building a nest in your hair.

We all have sinful ways.

Yep, we need to call it what it is—sin. Ungodly impulsive reactions: words, facial expressions, or other behaviors. The time to replace these responses is in calm moments. It’s during peacetime we should identify our poor responses, create good ones, plant the new ones deep into our brains, and, practice, practice, practice.

When we’re in the middle of a firefight, smoke keeps us from seeing the escape route God has for us. So before the battle ever begins we have to acquaint ourselves intimately with that route. We need to be able to turn to it blind—even in our sleep.

Aug 7 Escape Route

When it comes down to it, the best way to prevent curses from flowing from our lips is to plant praise deep in our hearts.

I don’t know about you, but that’s something I can do.

Souvenirs for the Soul: When You Have to Stay Home

I wanted to go!

Oh, I wanted to go. But the Lord said, “No. Not yet. Not this year.”

It was the summer before my junior year of college. My church denomination offered a summer missions program for college juniors and seniors. I so wanted to sign up and see where I might find myself for ten weeks. I did get to go the next year, to Anchorage, Alaska. But for the summer of 1983, the Lord told me to stay home.

Really, God? What could you have for me in Des Moines, Iowa that would be better than serving you in a remote corner of the United States?

He pointed me to Psalm 37:3.

Trust in the Lord and do good; Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. (NASB)

July 31 Climatis

It would be years later that I’d come to understand the word “cultivate” means “feed on”. But at this point in time, I thought it meant that I needed to grow in my ability to be faithful to the Lord‘s direction. A good thing for me. And I did learn more deeply to trust the Lord, His timing, and His ways.

But the real meaning of this verse is that …

Sometimes the Lord wants us to sit still and feed on His faithfulness to us.

Today I’m concluding my Souvenir for the Soul series. I’ve talked about lessons the Lord has taught me in new and unfamiliar places. But you know what? He also has much for us to learn in those stuck-at-home, hot-and-sticky, droopy-eared days.

He wants us to take long, cool drinks from our own wells.

He knows the most nutritious food grows in our own gardens.

He wants us to embrace the joy from the wet gigglers that jump through our sprinklers.

He knows our richest treasures will be found sitting around our own kitchen tables.

July 31 God is Faithful When We Have to Stay

You know that verse I just mentioned, from Psalm 37? The very next verse is one we know well—and often misunderstand.

Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.
(Psalm 37:4, NASB)

Something in our brains (probably from our preschool days when we believed fairy tales) tells us that if we put God first, He’ll grant our every wish. As we’ve grown older, we’ve learned (probably in heart-wrenching ways) this is not true. That same part of our brain wants to think God’s not fair. Or, He must not love us. Or, we haven’t figured out how to truly delight in Him.

But I think our spirits understand that the truth is …

When God is our foremost pursuit, He will plant His desires inside us.

And as we trust Him, wait patiently, and watch expectantly, He will be faithful to fulfill those desires.

So for those of us who didn’t get to “go” this summer, God still has souvenirs for our souls.

Souvenir for the Soul: God’s most precious treasures aren’t discovered in the wow, but in the right here and now.

Lord, teach us to look hard in our own places and discover the riches you’ve set right in front of us. Help us savor that honey-sweet manna that arrives daily on our own plates—Your goodness.

Commit your way to the Lord,
Trust also in Him, and He will do it.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light
And your judgment as the noonday.
Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him;
(Psalm 37:5-7a, NASB)

Taste and see that the Lord is good.
(Psalm 34:8, NASB)

Souvenirs for the Soul: The Testimony of God Shows Up in Unexpected Places

In my pre-waking moments, I thought I was on a subway again. I’d been in the country only a few days, and with my group of journeymen missionaries had ridden several trains and subways, touring the city as we acclimated to the culture. Awakened long before my alarm rang, I thought someone was shaking my bed. My eyes rolled open to realize my bed was indeed shaking though no one was near it.

I sat straight up wondering,

“Is this an earthquake? …

We’re rocking, not rumbling. What am I supposed to do when there’s an earthquake?” My roommate and I sat dumbly blinking at each other. But when after only a few seconds the swaying stopped, we both returned to sleep for another hour.

“Welcome to Japan,” our orientation leader said a few hours later. It was the first, and strongest (6.1 on the Richter scale), of innumerable earthquakes I would experience over the next two years.

I had gone to Japan because I wanted to know what parts of the gospel resonated with a culture far different from my own.

Though I had a job to do, teaching English and working in a church, personally, I was there to expand my understanding of the God I loved. Obviously, I can’t share it all in a single blog. But I can share some of the highlights.

SONY DSC1. Japan is a group-oriented culture. They seek to not stand out as individuals. So in their churches, unity is a must. They never do anything significant without 100% agreement. We Americans have a lot to learn from them about surrendering our individual agendas (uh-hum … pet preferences) for the sake of the body.

July 24 - kiwihug on unsplash

2. When I served there in 1988 and 1989, less than one percent of Japan’s population was Christian. What I loved about this was that people weren’t afraid to ask real questions. Questions I tended to either ignore because they’re too scary to delve into (in case I might change my mind about my faith), or questions I took for granted because that’s what I had been taught and it hadn’t occurred to me to challenge those teachings. I grew to love digging into the Bible and into my own suppositions to solidify what was Biblical truth and what I could set aside. (photo courtesy of kiwihug on unsplash)

 

3. Whenever you visited anyone, you always brought a gift. Always. What a sweet gesture of appreciation! I wish I would remember to do this more often now.

July 24 - boots off

4. You’re probably quite familiar with the Japanese practice of taking shoes off at the door when you enter a home (and even churches and other places). In fact, other countries, and in many northern states (because sloppiness sticks to your shoes in the spring when snow melts), this same practice is observed. When I taught the gospel to a group of Japanese ladies, the removal of dirty shoes served as a great picture of our sin being removed before entering the holy presence of God.

What’s cool about the Japanese, is that the host always has slippers for you to wear so your feet don’t get cold. I suppose this, too, is a picture of God’s grace—clothing us in His righteousness.

July 24 gideon-peter-caringal-2389955. The Shinto shrine’s layout is very similar to the Old Testament tabernacle. Now isn’t that interesting? Japan for thousands of years has prided itself on its autonomy, and yet they built their places of worship with strong similarities to the instructions found in the Bible. How did that happen? (photo courtesy of Gideon Peter Caringal on unsplash, and of the very shrine I visited in the area of Tokyo where I lived)

Now hear me carefully. I’m not a universalist. I believe there’s no god or religion founder who came close to doing what Jesus did for us. None died for the world but Jesus. None rose from the grave but Jesus. None sent His Spirit to live with us but Jesus. This sets Jesus apart, and far above, any other.

But the Japanese shrines, to me, were prime examples of what Paul said:

“… what may be known of God is manifest in them, for God has shown it to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, …” (Romans 1:19-20, NKJV)?

So, if God has made himself known to an autonomous island country, has He not also made himself clearly known to people of other cultures? What about the culture your child/ren came from? Maybe this is how we can reach them with the love of God.

Souvenir for the Soul:

Start with what’s familiar to them that reflects the character of God and His salvation story, and build on that.

July 24 Foundational Awareness of God

Because it’s true that …

The earth sees and trembles.
The mountains melt like wax at the presence of the Lord,
At the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.
The heavens declare His righteousness,
And all the peoples see His glory.

Psalm 97:4-7 (NKJV)

Souvenirs for the Soul: Wild Horses Are Not Lone Rangers

You don’t want to be out there after dark. It turns pitch black and there’re no street lights to guide you back to town.

Homeschooling afforded us some far-reaching field trips.

Some people call them family vacations. But since we traveled during the fall—after the heat settled down, the mosquitoes were hopefully dead, and the masses of other families were back home with their kids tucked away in public/private schools—and since I made sure our kids wrote in their journals, I choose to call them field trips.

In 2001, we planned a month-long trip, visiting several national parks and other western venues. To prepare for this adventure we started the basic academic subjects in early August. Additionally, I ordered travel magazines from the states we would visit. I assigned each of our children to pick an attraction for us to visit. Then they had to research and “teach” us about that place: why it was worth visiting, its history and unique features, and how should we prepare (special shoes, safety measures, precautions).

We learned about Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone National Park, the Grand Canyon, and … I can’t remember … maybe Bryce Canyon. But our oldest wanted to us to hunt down wild horses deep in the desert outside Rock Springs, Wyoming.

Did you know wild horses don’t roam alone?

They live in one of two types of herds: a stallion and his harem and foals, or a group of bachelors. (I can just imagine how a bunch of would-be harem owners behave.)

So in Wyoming, we set out on a 23-mile trek, in the heat of a sunny afternoon, carefully traversing dirt roads, while scanning the terrain in search of a herd. Several miles into the trip we spotted one not far off the road. We got as close as we respectfully could, stopped our van, and waited.

In a matter of seconds we knew who the lead mare was—the one that took charge when we drove up. She and a few others trotted across the road in front of us, while she called for the others to follow. We could literally hear her encouragement. It seemed to take a little convincing, but they all eventually crossed over and kept on going—their long tails blowing in the breeze.

We’d been to Mt Rushmore and Yellowstone by this point, but nothing captured my breath like these beautiful creatures. Strong, determined, untethered owners of free-range.

This experience gave me a new understanding of what it means to be “wild.”

You can’t just do what you want, how you want, when you want. Humans, like horses, are meant to live in community. And we are all meant to follow a leader. One leader.

Now this isn’t a lesson on leadership. No, it’s a lesson about the fact that we can be beautifully wild, but we still live in order with others. We need each other. Alone we die; together we thrive. The only way to get along is by refusing to fight for the head spot, and instead regularly choosing to submit to that head.

And who is that head? Have you guessed it yet? It’s not Mom. It’s not even Dad. And it’s never, ever the kids.

God is our Head.

He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything.
(Colossians 1:18, NASB)

July 17 Hearts Moving toward Christ

For our wedding announcements Bob made the design in the above photo. It symbolizes two hearts, uniting into one. The only way for that union to happen is as each of us move toward Jesus (the cross). If one of us chooses to live outside the lordship of Christ, our unity will weaken. But as long as we continued to grow closer to God, we will automatically grow closer to each other.

This is true in all our relationships. Now, I know our children don’t understand how to live under Christ as their head. It’s a hard concept for any of us to grasp. But, I do know this: the best way to parent is to surrender our parenting to the Father.

July 17 Wild Side

How do we do this?

I’m curious what you would say. How do you as a mom surrender to God practically?

For me, it took a lot of listening. Getting past my emotions, be willing to set aside my agenda, and listening. It meant measuring my words, actions, reactions, methods of discipline, and expressions of love against God’s word. It meant apologizing when I needed to, and sometimes adjusting the consequences I had handed out in the middle of a hot and messy moment. And it meant redefining my expectations.

So, trapped and restrained mom, do you long to run wild?

You can. As long as you remember wild does not mean going solo. You need to surround yourself with others like-minded, common-experienced moms. And more importantly, you need to know and follow the voice of the great Head.

Souvenirs for the Soul: Never Judge a Four-Room Motel by Its Size

Talk about last minute.

In three days, Bob and I discussed, decided, and departed on a 4,000 mile trip. We hadn’t planned to go to my niece’s wedding. The distance and cost seemed prohibitive. But my sister-in-law was in her final days of life* so we made an impromptu decision and headed west.

Last minute airfare was too expensive. So we drove most of the 1900 miles in two long days. Needing low-budget accommodations, we chose to spend the second night about 150 miles from the wedding venue, in the small town where my husband had lived most of the first nine years of his life.

Silver Lake, Oregon

Silver Lake is in the middle of high desert, where its lake had dried up long before my husband lived there in the nineteen-sixties. The town itself sits at an elevation of 4345 feet, encompasses a whopping one-and-a-third square miles of land, and boasts a booming population of fifty. The night we drove into town, we’d traversed hundreds of miles in desolate darkness, dodging thousands of little jack rabbits. Sadly, we weren’t able to dodge all of them. (Oh, the things we remember!)

July 10 Oregon High Desert

Despite its remoteness, Silver Lake does offer a four-room motel that sits about fifteen feet south of the highway that runs through town. You know, the kind of motel where your double-sized bed is a mere eight steps from your car door. And if you take an additional six steps, you’ll step out the bathroom window. It’s more like a concrete tent, but with actual beds (yes, there was also a single bed in the same 12 x 12 enclosure), and an in-room bathroom.

It’s a good thing we liked adventures, especially those that hold a touch of nostalgia.

But you know what we discovered that night (or rather in the wee hours of the morning) when showering the highway grime off our weary bodies? This itty-bitty, hole-in-the-desert motel had the best towels ever. Big, soft, and absorbent. They were even better than the towels from the Hilton Hotels my husband frequents for business travel. Who would have thought?! And the next morning we got to stop at the general store next door and help ourselves to a free cup of coffee and friendly conversation.

Souvenir for the Soul:

Never judge a motel by it’s size. You never know what little comforts await you.

Isn’t this true of life? Where the experiences, especially from our childhood, that really stick out in our minds are the simplest of things? They cost little, if no, money. They involved laughter and usually other people. They may have required some imagination and creativity. And they were likely something hands-on and multi-sensory.

Like playing in the rain, making turtles out of walnut shells, mimicking Dad with his tools or Mom in the kitchen. It didn’t involve a trip to Hawaii. And even if we’d gone to Hawaii, we’d probably most remember something like eating fresh pineapple around a kitchen table in a rented room.

My most poignant memory of my own childhood travels from Missouri to Arizona is of long hours in the back of a hot station wagon, eating Snack Pack pudding. Seriously! My mom was from Arizona and we were traveling there to spend time with family. But had that not been the reason for our travel, my parents could have easily thrown us all in the car, driven an hour down the road, and fed us individual cans of sweetness to create the same feeling. Right?

July 10 The Simplest Things

You see, we may think we’re small and have little to offer. But we never know when some little thing we do, ministers welcome and comfort to a weary soul. We all have those special little touches we like to extend to others. Itsy-bitsy extra miles we like to go. We need to quit downplaying these. They matters. They make a difference. They spark a smile and invite pleasant conversation. Those that partake of our simple offerings may scoot on down the highway in short order, but chances are, we probably touched their lives in ways we’ve never dreamed.

And if you’re feeling guilty about your minimal vacation this year? Don’t. Engage those little things you specialize in and I think you just might be surprised at the baskets-full of leftover memories you’ll create.

“Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish. When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples, ‘Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.’ So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets …”
(John 6:11-13, NIV)

Do you have any simple childhood pleasures that are fun to recall? Are there ways you’ve created similar memories for your family? Would you honor us by sharing them in the comments below?

*In case it sounded like it, this sister-in-law (Jane) was not the mother of the bride. Jane got to meet Jesus face-to-face the day we started our impromptu journey. We were sad to not get to say good-bye but know we’ll see her again someday. Driving to Oregon allowed us the opportunity to spend a couple weeks there and so we were able to attend Jane’s inspiring memorial service.