Wastefully Extravagant

It is only 9:00 a.m. and already I have answered five hundred fifty-two questions. 

“Mommy, can I have a waffle?”

“Are we going anywhere today?”

“Is it windy?”

“Where’s my Lego book?”

“Mommy, can I have a waffle?” asked by the second child to wake up and walk into the kitchen.

“Can I go outside?”

“Can we play on the Slip N’ Slide today?”

“Mommy, where are my favorite brown shorts?”

“Mommy, can I have a waffle?” asked by the third child to wake up.  (If you can’t tell by now my kids LOVE waffles!)

“Can I have juice?”

“Can I have chocolate milk?”

“Can I have water with ice?”

“Can I have water with no ice?”

Mommy, can I have a waffle?” asked by the fourth hungry child to walk sleepily to the breakfast table.

“WE DO NOT HAVE ANY WAFFLES!” said the calm, gentle, loving mommy.

“Can you go to the store and get more waffles?” asked by the child who wanted to end his life prematurely.

All those questions and one of my children still cannot talk.  #helpmeLord

Most of these questions are asked by my Ethiopian love, my first son, known by our family as Mr. Justice.  Mr. Justice likes to know the rules.  Doesn’t mean he always follows the rules but he will ensure everyone else does or he will push them, kick them, or if all else fails punch them in the face.  Mr. Justice will also make sure his parents obey all the laws.  Allow me to demonstrate.

“Mommy, why did we stop?” asked Mr. Justice.

“Because we came to a stop sign and all cars must stop at the stop sign to make sure no other cars are coming before you pull out,” said the excellent mini-van driver mom.

“Why did you not stop all the way mommy?  Why did you keep rolling slowly?” asked Mr. Justice.

“It’s called a rolling stop, son.  Yes, technically you are not supposed to do that but I looked and no cars were coming so I knew it was safe to go,” answered slightly agitated mom.

“Mommy how come you always do a rolling stop?  The stop sign says stop so you have to stop all the way mommy.  All the way,” says Mr. Justice.

“Yes son thank you for that reminder.  And thank you God for giving me my very own police officer, located right behind my seat for the next 10 years,” said mentally exhausted mother of Mr. Justice.

This boy.  He is one of a kind.  He can have me laughing one minute and want to spit nails the next.  He can out talk both of his big sisters and his questions go on for days.  His laughter fills the house.  His creativity with Legos and ability to complete mazes in less than 30 seconds blow me away.  I love his curiosity to know how everything works, especially light switches.  I love when I give him a rule or introduce a new song it’s like writing it in concrete.  Why you ask?  Because how you show him the first time is how it will be done or sung for the rest of eternity. This child Does. Not. Do. Change.  It doesn’t matter if you sang the verse wrong when you taught him you will keep singing it the wrong way because his beautiful little mind turns words, methods, and routines into fact, after just one take.     

He is my one.  The one who can push all my buttons and make me want to pull my hair out.  The one most of my tears, prayers, and gray hairs come from.  The one who keeps me humble.  The one God uses to remind me I am not a perfect parent.  The one who requires me to give all of myself every single day with very little return.

The word generosity has been stirring in my heart for the past few days.  I had considered myself a fairly generous person until a few days ago.  Then God made a familiar Bible story come alive in a whole new way.

Luke 15:11-20 tells a story most are extremely familiar, the story of the prodigal son.  Our pastor recently preached on this passage and did an amazing job of bringing the story to life.  He explained what would have actually happened in order for the father in the story to give his son the inheritance he demanded.  During the time when Luke penned these words, most people’s wealth was in their land.  In order to give his son half of the family estate, it was not as simple as going to the family safe.  The father would have had to sell a portion of his land to give his selfish, irresponsible, arrogant son the money he was not asking for, but demanding.

How many of us would do that?  I would not.  I probably would have said something like, “Son, you must be crazy to think your dad and I are going to give you anything when you ask like that.  Until you start making some wise choices and working for your own money, you can just forget it.”  Not only would I not give to my own child, if they ever approached me with such an audacious request; I would think any parent who did; an irresponsible and senseless person.  I would shake my head and say they are never going to see that money again.  They know good and well, that child is going to spend every penny of that money and then come crawling back when it’s gone.

And I would be right.  I called it.  I could look that father in the eye and say “I told you so.” But he wouldn’t hear me.  Why?  Because he was running.  He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, to the son he had waited for so long to come home.  Even if he did hear me, he didn’t care.  He was too busy kissing and hugging the son who had spent half of the family fortune.  Too busy calling for his servants to bring a robe and the family ring to the boy who had lived recklessly and irresponsibly for months.  Too busy telling his servants to kill the fattened calf and invite the whole town to celebrate the son who did nothing to deserve it.

There I stand, not believing the scene unfolding before my eyes.  How is that father not mad?  Why is he welcoming him home with such extravagance?  Why?

Because the son wasn’t the only prodigal in the story.    The dictionary defines prodigal as spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant or giving something on a lavish scale. The father was a wasteful giver.  Because he knew no matter when he gave it away, before or after death, it wasn’t his.  It all belonged to the Lord.  So why not give with reckless abandon?  Why not give to a son who desperately needs to see unconditional love lived out?  Isn’t that what we all need? 

Over the years, I have given to my children; I have given to my spouse, to my family.  I have given to missionaries, I have given to friends, and I have given to complete strangers.  But if I am brutally honest with myself, I have never given like the father in this story.  Every time I give there is a part of me that expects something in return.  Whether it’s a simple thank you or God’s blessings, I expect something.  Because I worked hard for that, I stewarded it well!  I want to know that they people I give to will be good stewards.  I don’t know if I can think of a time where I gave recklessly, fully aware I would get nothing in return.  Sure I’ve given a few dollars to a homeless person here and there, knowing they might not use it wisely, but even they say thank you.

The father in the story of the prodigal son gave extravagantly; he gave wastefully in others’ eyes.  He had lived with his son.  He had watched him grow and he could see the rebellion in his heart and I’m sure he knew his son would not spend his inheritance wisely.  But he gave it anyways.  And then he watched his son turn his back on him and walk away.  And the father waited and watched.

When the son had spent all his inheritance and found himself in the lowest place possible, sleeping and eating with pigs, he decided even the servants in my father’s household live better than this.  Because you see, he had seen his father’s generosity his whole life.  So he decided it was worth a try.  He decided to go home, even if I have to be a servant.

Pretend you are the father.  You have been waiting and watching, praying one day your son would come home.  What would you say?  Would you welcome him in, give him a hug, maybe warm up some food for him out of the fridge, sit down at the table and talk.  The whole time fighting the emotions inside of you that on one hand want to scream at him and tell him how selfish and irresponsible he has been and on the other hand cry your eyes out because you’re so thankful he finally came home.  I would probably be a combination of the two.  But would I run to him?  Would I bring out the brand new clothes I bought for him just for this occasion?  Would I call all our family, friends and neighbors and throw a party?  Would I go out and buy prime rib and fill the house with food?

That’s what the prodigal father does.  He sees the son coming from a long way off and he doesn’t wait for the son to come crawling back begging for forgiveness.  The father runs to him and lavishes him with hugs and kisses.  Then he tells the servants to bring the best robes, bring the family ring, kill the fatten calf, and invite the whole town to a feast.  After all the son has done, and all the money lost, the father gives again.

God does the same for us.  God gave extravagantly, wastefully when He gave us His entire inheritance, Jesus.  He gave His one and only Son to a group of filthy, selfish sinners who did not love Him.  AND He gave us the freedom to choose.  There was no guarantee He would get any return on his investment, there was a greater chance He would lose it all.  But He gave anyways.  He gives us; the selfish, irresponsible children, the very best and watches us walk away.  Then He waits and watches, ready to give again.

Mr. Justice talks about Ethiopia all the time.  He asks about his birth mom and family often.  He tells us he wants to go home to Ethiopia on a pretty regular basis, even though he was six months old when we brought him home and doesn’t remember anything about living there.  He asks us to see pictures of Ethiopia and he wants us to tell him stories about when we traveled there to visit and bring him home.  Kentucky Boy and I have openly talked about his heritage, our love for Ethiopia and for his birth family.  I enjoy showing him pictures and telling him stories about our time in Ethiopia. 

However, the first time Mr. Justice began telling us he wanted to go home to Ethiopia, it struck a chord in my heart.   To be honest, it hurt my feelings. My thoughts went something like this, “I am your mommy.  This is your home.  We are your family.  We love you.  We flew across the ocean and spent thousands of dollars to bring you home.  We have given you everything.  Why do you want to leave?”

One day I was asking the Lord what to do and why I felt so hurt by Mr. Justice’s questions.  And His reply gently came.

“Because my daughter, you didn’t freely give.”

“You gave with expectations, even if you never said them out loud.”

“And now my daughter I need you to give again.  Even when it hurts and even if you never see the harvest I need you to give, because he’s mine.  I only loaned him to you.”

“I need you raise him up.  To feed him, to clothe him, to love him, to teach him.  And then my daughter I need you let him go.  Because you see, I have great plans for him.  I gave him a love for his people, a love for his birth mother and birth family that runs deep into his soul because I want him to return to his people.”

I sat frozen.  Unable to speak.  I could only let the tears roll down my cheeks as they are doing right now even as I type out these words.  The tears come not only because I know one day, sooner rather than later, I will have to watch him go, but also because in that moment I realized how selfish I had been. 

Yes, I adopted my son because I wanted to obey the Lord but I also wanted another child.  A child to love and hold.  A child to watch grow up and return all the affection I had given to him.  I wanted to be an encouragement for other families who choose the journey of adoption.  The problem with each of those statements, is me.  They are all about me.  About my feelings.   About what I will get from my generosity.

What if I give my whole heart to my child just for them to one day walk away and never say thank you.  If I knew that now would I withhold the gift?  Would I give more to a person who tells me thank you than someone who doesn’t?  Would I give more to an organization that recognizes my giving than one who doesn’t.  Would I give more to a missionary who sends thank you letters each month than one who doesn’t. 

The answer should be no. The Lord wants us to give like Him.  Like the prodigal father.  Giving isn’t about me.  It’s never about me.  Giving is lavishly, extravagantly, wastefully giving what has been given to us, expecting nothing in return.  Trusting our Father in heaven who says His Word will never return void.  We may never see the harvest, we may never get the reward here on earth but the seed we sow will reap a harvest.  Whether we are giving love, money or forgiveness, we only need to be obedient.

Lord help me be Your wastefully, extravagant giver, to my son and to the rest of the world.

Give recklessly today.  Give wastefully extravagant.  Give in a way the world and even your mind doesn’t understand.  Give like the prodigal father, lavishly, expecting nothing in return.

Need a place to start?  Here are some of my favorite organizations that welcome reckless, wasteful givers any day of the week.   Feel free to add your favorite sponsorship organizations in the comments.

http://ordinaryhero.org

www.showhope.org

www.lifesongfororphans.org

www.compassion.com (p.s. watch the video on their homepage)

https://amazima.org/

www.imanimilele.org

 

www.holtinternational.org

The Seed

I love trees.  We are currently remodeling a house.  (Yes you can pray for us! Ha!)  Surrounding our fixer upper are beautiful trees.  Unfortunately three of these beauties had roots growing into the side of our basement wall.  Those roots presented a problem if we wanted our house to be standing in ten years.  Even though I knew the best choice for our future home was to cut down the trees, I tried for weeks to think of a creative plan to keep them.  But in the end all three came down.  I couldn’t watch.  Kentucky Boy had to remind me multiple times, “Either the trees come down or our house could cave in.” 

“Ok, Ok.  When you put it that way.”

I am still sad about the trees coming down; however, later that day as I climbed the stairs to what will be our daughters’ room my breath caught.  The view from their room is no longer branches and leaves but beautiful farmland and rolling hills, stretching as far as the eye can see. 

Then the Lord reminded me of a prayer I have prayed often.  “Lord, help me bear fruit.” 

Until a few months ago I thought bearing fruit was the end goal.  I never realized the fruit had another role.  The fruit protects.  The fruit protects the seeds, the next generation. 

Today I want you to meet the girl who made me a mommy.  My first born, aka The Artist, sees the world for what it could be.  She loves cardboard boxes and empty bottles because they can be houses and snow globes.  This girl has the sweetest smile, giggliest laugh, and kindest heart.  She was the happiest baby, the easiest toddler, and is becoming an extremely helpful young lady.  I enjoyed every stage of my pregnancy with her, even the end when she was two weeks overdue and still had to be evicted!  She does things on her own time table and sees the world as an adventure waiting to begin. 

The Artist is one of my seeds.  I have a drive within me to protect her, to guard her heart, mind, and soul from the world.  I have an obligation to teach her how valuable she is and how she was created with a purpose; to raise her in the fear and admonition of the Lord.  Because I don’t want to just protect her, I want her to be firmly rooted in truth, to grow up into an oak of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.  My job in this life is not only to bear fruit, but to protect, plant, water and raise up the next generation of believers. 

I have more people to introduce today than just my Artist.  I want you to meet some seeds who were never given the opportunity to sprout.  Actually not one, not a few but fifty-four million.  Fifty-four million seeds we were supposed to protect and failed; failed miserably.  The world will never see the fruit these precious lives would have bore.

Why?

Because we didn’t lay down our lives and die.

I know some of you reading this might be thinking this is just another pro-life Christian bashing Planned Parenthood and our government, but you would be wrong.  I encourage you to keep reading because you might be surprised to see where I’m going.

How do seeds inside fruit grow into another tree, bush or plant?  The fruit is eaten or falls to the ground.  The seeds pass through an animal’s digestive tract (I know gross but part of nature) or the fruit falls to the ground and rots.  Either way the fruit “dies” in order for the seed to be planted.  If the fruit stayed on the tree forever, looking pretty, it would never produce another tree.  The fruit would serve no purpose beyond itself.  It would simply be “decoration” on the tree.

To be quite honest there are many social issues today, not just abortion, Christians get extremely upset and vocal about.  I often want to pose this question to those individuals, “What have you done to love those you are so adamant to protect?”  “What have you done to protect the seeds the Lord has given you?”

Stop blaming the President, Senators, Representatives, abortion clinics and abortion doctors.  The latter two wouldn’t exist without a market for their services. 

“What have you done dear Christian to love the girls and women going in for abortions?”

Have you given judgmental looks down your church pew?  Have you asked other people in your prayer group to pray for the pregnant teenager in church but never reached out to pray WITH her, to show her she is loved?

\When my Artist was born I worked for Alpha Alternative, a crisis pregnancy center in the town we lived.  I saw young girls, young women and older women always carrying the same burden….shame.  Feelings of desperation drove them to our center as they looked for any “fix” to their crisis.  In a majority of conversations with these women, the same fear surfaced.  The fear of what others would think.  The fear of judgment and ridicule.  Most of them, void of a revelation that no matter the circumstance every life is precious, including their own.

The sad reality is these women are not entirely to blame; nor is our society.  When was the last time Titus chapter two was actively lived out in your own life?  Where the older teach the younger to be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, sound in faith, love and endurance?  What happened to living in such a way that our lives teach what is good and we train up those younger in the faith so no one will malign the word of God?

A few years ago Kentucky Boy and I took a parenting class.  One nugget of information I took away from the class was called teaching the opposite virtue.  If the child is struggling with lying, teach them about truth.  If the child is constantly stirring up strife among others, teach them how to be peacemakers.  Don’t simply create more rules to change the behavior and achieve momentary parenting success.  Train up their hearts.

We need to do the same with the world.  Instead of just signing petitions and voicing our opinions on social media, or even creating new laws, our lives should be teaching the opposite virtues.  Does our society lack the sanctity of life?  Our lives and words should be declaring every life is precious and created on purpose.  Does our society lack respect for authority?  We should show in our home, our church, our workplace, and our community that we are people under authority, obeying the laws and respecting all those enforcing them.  Does our society lack the value of marriage?  We should live lives of integrity, and purity, staying faithfully committed to the spouse of our youth.  Forgiving, preserving, and praying through trials instead of being so quick to divorce.  What would happen if every day we preferred others over ourselves?  What would happen if every day we shared our testimony with one person?  What would happen if we took the time to encourage a young person to live for the Lord in a day and age when it’s rare? What would happen if every day we would sacrifice even fifteen minutes of our time to do something for another?  Just like the trees coming down at our new house, sometimes we must be willing to die to ourselves so the next generation can see.

We all have a role to play.  If you are a Christian reading this then God commands you to bear fruit.  He tells the world they will know us by our fruit.  And every piece of fruit has a seed.  My question for you today is what are you doing to protect the seeds the Lord has entrusted to you?  Not only the biological seeds like my Artist, but the seeds from your ministries, your workplace, and church.  Take inventory today and water some seeds.  Because as one of my favorite pastors, Bill Johnson would say, “Inside every acorn is an oak tree.”

Not sure where to start?  Volunteer at a crisis pregnancy center near you and begin speaking life into hopeless women walking through the doors.  Get on your knees and ask God to show you people in your life who need discipled.  Ask Him to show you ways to be part of the solution, part of the wind blowing the breath of LIFE back into our society.  Because until the world is loved, until they are served, until they know they were uniquely designed and created with a purpose, nothing will change.  And honestly I don’t want it to.

WHAT?  Yes you read that right.

Because if the behavior of the world changes but their hearts remain the same we have just created modern day Pharisees.  Hypocrites. 

You see if we succeed.  If we get abortions to become illegal again without seeking to change the heart of those conducting and receiving abortions, we have only taught them to look good on the outside but remain broken on the inside.  Whether abortions are legal or illegal the brokenness will remain until they are LOVED!  Until they are taught their WORTH!  That is true for any social issue in our society today, not just abortions.

The fruit must slowly die to itself so the seeds inside can take root and grow up to be oaks of righteousness.  Lord, I want to bear fruit.  But more than that, I want to spend every breath in my body to protect the seeds You have given to me so when my time on earth is done they will be planted and firmly established, a planting of the Lord for the display of His Splendor.

Find a seed today and protect it by giving your life.

To Love is To Serve

Meet my husband, aka Kentucky Boy.  The first time we spoke was over a table of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  It was like the Lord was laughing as He thought about our future family and how many conversations we would have as we spread peanut butter.

Kentucky Boy was born and raised in the Good Ole’ South.  He drinks sweet tea like Uncle Si, would choose bare feet over shoes any day, and yes his southern drawl drew me in hook, line and sinker.  He loves Jesus and bleeds blue. (Go Cats!)  But his most attractive feature, besides his long hair at the time, was how he loved to serve.

During this season, when I met Kentucky Boy, God had been speaking to me about the importance of being equally yoked with my future spouse.  Thankfully God had surrounded me with couples who served each other and showed me what healthy marriages looked like.  I learned serving is not just reserved for mission trips, but a daily lifestyle lived out towards our parents, spouse, children, friends, and anyone else who crosses our path. 

The summer before I met Kentucky Boy I went on my first mission trip.  Little did I know how much that trip would set the course for the rest of my life.  It was on that trip I remember feeling God’s presence for the first time.  I remember the power of forgiveness and life giving words spoken between our team members.  I remember how good it felt to sweat while I spread tar on someone’s roof.  I remember how purposeful I felt as I held a little boy in my lap while we listened to bible stories.  I remember thinking I don’t want this to ever end.  I want every day of my life to be spent serving others.  It was the first time I was disappointed I had graduated high school.  I wanted to stay in youth group and go on mission trips forever.

A few weeks after coming home from that trip, despite all my effort, the mission trip high began to wane.  My desire to selflessly serve those around me was much less appealing.  Because let’s face it, I know these people.  I live with them.   I know their annoying habits, and failures.  Often, it is easier to serve a stranger than those we see every day.  But my heart desired so much to get back to that place, to the place where I felt God’s presence and purpose so strongly. 

To my surprise, Mission Discovery, the mission organization our youth group partnered with for my first mission trip, had an internship program for college students and I had my heart set on spending my summer on the mission field.  I remember the day I got the acceptance email.  I couldn’t wait to call my parents to tell them I would be in Mexico for eight weeks that summer! 

My summer with Mission Discovery flew wide the door to my heart.  I was surrounded by men, women, children, and peers who passionately loved Jesus.  I saw real poverty for the first time and it is forever etched in my mind.  Appropriately named, Mission Discovery allowed me to discover not only the needs of people living around the world, but they showed me practical ways I could meet those needs.  Mission Discovery works in multiple countries and many locations within our own borders, providing trips for thousands of students, adults and families.  Teaching faithfully all those who work with them To Love is To Serve.  The ways Mission Discovery serve are not extraordinary but simple things, done in love, changes lives forever.  The miracle is, in the process of serving, the life it changes most is usually your own.

Not only did Mission Discovery impact my heart, it also happened to be the way God brought Kentucky Boy in to my life.  How he eventually stole my heart is a story for another day.  So as Kentucky Boy would say, “I don’t need all the details, only the bullet points today babe.”

                             

Our life has changed in many ways.  We have changed jobs.  We have moved more times than you would believe.  We have become parents to not one, not two…..but FIVE children!  Our hair is beginning to change colors and move from our head to our face.  But the things that matter most have remained.  The longer we are married we have realized our hearts were united on a mission field because that is where they were meant to stay.  Our dreams and visions have taken different shapes and forms.  God has grown us up, sunk our roots deep, pruned our iniquities, and cleared up our vision.  We have by no means, “arrived” but we know our feet are set on the path He has marked out for us and we will run it with perseverance. 

My encouragement for you today is to SERVE!  Go on a mission trip!  Just do it! Take your friends, take your spouse, take your kids and GO!  Allow God to show you the world beyond your circumstances and allow Him to show you the power of love in action.  Is there a mission trip opportunity you have been hearing about at church, from a family member, or friend?  Do you keep seeing Instagram posts or Facebook feeds about upcoming mission trips your friends are taking and you thought one day you might like to go?  Sign up!  Sign up tomorrow!  Has your son or daughter been begging you to let them go on a mission trip with their youth group but you just are not sure about sending them out of state or out of the country?  Send them!  Sign yourself up to be a chaperon and both of you go.

I believe, every person should go on a mission trip at least once in a lifetime.  Why?  Because then you will know them by name.  The little child on the sponsorship card from some country you’ve never heard of has a name.  The mother you saw in a documentary about Africa really does feed mud pies to her children at night to fill their bellies, just so they won’t wake up crying from hunger.  When you go you will see her face to face.  You will walk where she walks every day and the image will stay.  Those experiences will loosen your grip on your earthly possessions.  Those people will remind you how blessed you are and how much you really have to give.  They will teach you about true contentment.  Often times conviction will grip your heart as you remember how many times you have complained about the car you drive, the house you live in, the job you have, or the food in your fridge.  That’s the funny about mission trips, typically the motivation to help others is what motivates you to go and give to people in need.  But in the end, it becomes clear, why it is more blessed to give than receive. 

If life’s current season will not permit you to go on a mission trip, I still encourage you to serve. We all have opportunities to love and serve those within the walls of our home and out our front door every day.  Choose today to put someone else’s needs before your own.  Be intentional and choose to love. 

Why?   Because that’s what God did for us.

He sent Jesus.  Jesus came to us, the needy.  God didn’t show him our sad pictures and He respond with sending us a check or some of his clothes.  No, He came.  He became flesh and gave up his lofty place.  He came and sat with us, had dinner with us.  He healed us.  He taught us about the Father.  He prayed for us and taught us how to pray.  He knew He had to come close and it was for the JOY set before Him that He endured the cross.

He served because He loved.

“And whoever of you desires to be first shall be slave of all.  For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.”  Mark 10:44-45

P.S.  I know there are thousands of mission organizations out there but my heart will always be partial to Mission Discovery!  Thank you MISDIS for following God’s call, staying faithful to the mission, and teaching others, To Love is To Serve!  Check them out www.missiondiscovery.org