One Stone at a Time

One Stone at a Time
One Stone at a Time

Conveying Christ to Kids

Hi, I’m Lisa. I love talking to people, reading, traveling, cooking, baking, gardening, and flower arranging. And I love talking to people about Jesus and how he’s working in my life. 

I often say God pushed me kicking and screaming into writing this blog. But it was actually a lot gentler than that
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Faith in Children

Make Kids Feel Needed in Church

Make kids feel needed in church

Make kids feel needed

Even these days, most kids probably grow up helping their parents or their siblings in certain ways. But probably not to the same extent that was true of their parents or grandparents. We no longer have a dozen kids per family, needing the older ones to care for the younger ones while we tend to the babies, as my dad’s parents did. The same tends to be true at church. Grown-ups do everything. So how do we develop our kids’ sense of who they are and their importance in the body of Christ? How do we make kids feel needed in the church?

Needs in tiny churches

The tiny church I grew up in–a church plant–was so little that they needed to rely on kids for important roles. I was eleven when I heard my parents discussing the need for a teacher for our first-, second-, and third-grade Sunday school class. I’m sure my dad was trying to persuade my already heavily committed mom to add that to her list. But since I loved that age group and planned to train to be a teacher, that position sounded great to me. So, I volunteered.

My parents were startled. They first responded with the obvious, “Oh, you’re not old enough. And you have to have made profession of faith publicly in the church to be a Sunday school teacher.”

Not allowing kids to feel pushed aside

“What does that involve? Can’t I do that?”

“It would mean going to the church council and telling them that you are ready to go public for Jesus and make your membership official. You’d have to tell them that you understand the teachings of the church and believe they’re biblical. Then you’d be an adult member.”

“Sure. I can do that. How? When?”

Although I thought my parents were startled, their reaction was nothing compared to that of the church elders and deacons. Stunned is more like it. They asked me all the questions that were typical in that day. The creeds, the catechism, and what Jesus meant to me personally. They also asked me what made me decide to make profession of faith right at that time. Then they sort of looked at each other as though they didn’t know what to do next.

“How old did you say you were?” one asked.

On hearing I was only eleven, they asked how many months till my birthday. They agreed that I could make my public profession as soon as I turned twelve. Though I thought the waiting was silly, I was happy to be accepted. I felt validated in my faith and very adult because they were going to let me teach Sunday school.

The blessings of feeling needed

Teaching that class was much harder than I had expected. First-graders can hardly read, and third-graders are already good readers. Teaching to that range of kids stretched my creativity. Ten to thirteen kids that age at once can be a handful. But I was so energetic and eager to prove myself up for the job that I figured it out.

I remember having so much fun doing things like big cut-outs for the walls to encourage attendance. One season each child put up a squirrel and got to add a nut for each Sunday of attendance. I was so eager to share Jesus with these little kids that each Saturday I even pedaled my bike to the house of any child who had missed class the week before to tell them we had missed them.

God’s mission moving forward

Not surprisingly, the class prospered. And I prospered. The class grew in size and in unity, and I grew in motivation to learn the Bible better and to learn better ways of teaching. My most important takeaway was my intense sense of belonging that I gained from being needed by the church. 1 Corinthians 12 gives us a detailed description of the body of Christ and each of us needing to use our gifts. As adults, we know how important using our gifts is. But what about our kids?

Kids who are needed in the church feel motivated to stay in the church.

When I hear people lament about the difficulty of so many young people leaving the church, I often think back to the time the church allowed me to become its youngest Sunday school teacher. The church’s accepting and enfolding me early actually gave me protection against negative peer pressure during my teen years. I had found my place. I was a Christ follower–a part of the body of Christ. No one could convince me otherwise.

When my kids were that age, we encouraged them to help with nursery, the church library, Vacation Bible School, playing instruments for church. Those were encouraging experiences for them as they felt needed and got to know godly adults they were working with. Just think how much better it would be if we as church bodies could make it a priority to incorporate young people into as many different ministries as possible.

How to make kids feel needed? Find ways to use their gifts.

Faces Turned Toward God Like Sunflowers

Faces turned toward God: Sunflowersphoto by marco-secchi-585553-unsplash-copy.jp

Faces turned toward God.

Watching a field of sunflowers with their faces turned toward the sun reminds me of how we–as children of God–were created to live with our faces turned toward God.

As a small child, our middle daughter made us think of a sunflower. She was so full of sunshine and so eager to express God’s love to others. When her grandma said to me, “There’s no beating her face for sunshine,” I knew I had found her symbol.

Her older sister’s symbol was a young apple tree. Hers was a sunflower. She loved the symbol and lived into it, as I had hoped after learning the idea from Trent and Smalley’s The Blessing.

We told her that we thought of her as a living sunflower. She reflected God’s love to others just as sunflowers reflect the sunshine in their bright color.

As a child, she collected sunflower memorabilia. As a teenager, she painted her bedroom wall with beautiful, very individual sunflowers. As a bride, she carried sunflowers.

When she was a little girl, she did not know much of the Old Testament yet.

She did not know that Isaiah 60:19 says,

“The sun will no more be your light by day,
    nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
    and your God will be your glory. ” NIV

But she knew that God loved her and wanted her to love others. She also knew her shining face made us think of reflecting God’s love to others, like sunflowers reflect the sun. I’m sure that encouraged her bright spirit.

But she had times of difficulty growing up, as all our children did. We thanked God then, as we do now, that she knew God’s love was not just for sunny times.

Yet she knew God loved her even when she felt miserable. She used to ask me why God didn’t just make her feel better when she was sick and prayed to him. Since she knew he could, why didn’t he?

The only thing I could tell her is that I didn’t know. But I also told her that suffering came into the world as a result of sin. I also knew that sickness and pain make us long for heaven and God’s presence in a way unblemished happiness would probably not.

God kept his promise from Numbers 6:25 to make his face shine upon her and be gracious to her. And later he graced her with the ability to share that loving favor from God with others who had struggled as she had.

Living with faces turned toward God.

As a high schooler, she once asked me to write down all the Bible verses I had shared with her over the years. I was surprised and knew I had no way of knowing what they all were. Then she told me she wanted to make little cards of them to encourage a friend as they had encouraged her.

My mother’s heart was full. God’s word had nestled in her heart and found a place from which to go forth in love.

[photo by marco-secchi-585553-unsplash]

 

Generation Gap Threatened Us

Meanest Mom Ever

That night my mom was the meanest, most unreasonable mom a girl ever had to put up with. She had usually been fun to talk to about boys I had crushes on or who had crushes on me. But that night she morphed into an ice monster. A generation gap threatened us.

A very cool and very cute guy had just asked me to our high-school winter dance. Not quite fourteen, I knew my parents had said I wasn’t allowed to date till sixteen. But this called for an exception. An all-school dance!

I begged and pleaded.

She only explained the rules again.

I cried. She shook her head and tried to hug me. The nerve!

I explained how special this guy was. She reminded me how young I was and said I would have more opportunities later.

I called her out as a hypocrite.

Reminding her that she herself had started dating at thirteen, I showed her how unfair she was being by denying me the fun she had experienced.

Her story was that she and her young boyfriends has been too young to even enjoy themselves properly and had even needed to be driven places by parents. Lame.

But my guy friend was 17 and had a car, so I knew we wouldn’t have those issues.

Besides, I knew I was very mature for my age and would be just fine.

After far too long, I finally admitted defeat.

Crying longer in my bedroom, I decided to write in my journal. Two long pages. How mean my mom was. That I was going to be much more understanding when I had a daughter someday. I just could not understand how a perfectly normal mom could become so unreasonable all of a sudden.

The generation gap threatened to win.

After hours of crying, I had a tough time sleeping. Waking up to hugely swollen red eyes did NOT improve my mood.

I wore my big, floppy, purple hat to school, so at least from a distance people would not be able to see what a wreck I was. But that didn’t help with talking to my guy friend. He could still see how ugly I looked.

I didn’t have to work to convince him how bad I felt at having to say no to him. He could see evidence of my tears.

What surprised me was that he told me he respected me for respecting my parents’ decision. He said he knew many girls would have just arranged a sleepover at a friend’s house.

He also told me he would come back when I was sixteen. I knew that was crazy, since he wouldn’t even be in high school then. But he did. We remained friends, and years later we went out a few times.

But the most amazing thing is how God worked through that event. Much later, when I was in college, he stopped at my parents’ house and told them how much he appreciated my leading him to Jesus. He wanted to thank them and me for what that meant to him.

My parents were surprised and called me to ask me why they had never heard. Because I had never known!

In church planting, my dad had always taught us not to share our faith across genders because of the danger of people experiencing the love of God as romantic love.

So I had certainly never set out to make a gospel presentation to him as such. But obviously God worked in that moment through my actively owning my faith and obeying my parents, even in my anger. My friend later attributed his new faith to me. Crazy.

The funny thing is that I had never even thought of trying to lie my way past my mom. Obviously, she and my dad had established a clear rationale for why we obey parents: as a means of reflecting the integrity of the God we serve.

My mom’s walking her faith with me crushed the generation gap.

And God used an event my young self temporarily thought of as one of the worst in my life to bring someone to faith in him. Amazing!

[Photo by romello-williams-385888-unsplash]

 

Basking in God’s Love: Reveling in New Ministry

My high school years became a time of basking in God’s love. Primarily because of my Dad’s equipping me for ministry.

During my time of being bullied, Dad had encouraged me that God was growing me through my difficulties. He was right. But it was NOT fun. I had obeyed him but had not been basking in God’s love.

Dad told me so many stories of Bible characters and other Christians growing through persecution that I started to wonder if that was the main way God worked. I remember asking Dad if trials were the only times God grew his children quickly.

His answer stuck with me–Christians grow most dramatically in their relationship with Jesus Christ both 1) during great difficulties and 2) during times of intense ministry.

In junior high I experienced the first kind of growth. During high school I experienced the second. The principle is the same.

Both kinds of spiritual growth require unprecedented reliance on Jesus.

I needed to talk to Jesus regularly–telling him how needy I was–in order to grow closer to him.

Feeling persecuted or panicky inspires most of us to pray. The same panic can come from jumping into a new ministry we do not feel prepared for. It can spur us to pray moment by moment.

The ministry my dad showed me God was calling me to in my high school was simple:

Tell people about Jesus. Consistently.

Attending a public high school was a huge bonus for me in learning the practice of talking about Jesus to those who didn’t know him. Modular scheduling–which allowed students huge amounts of unscheduled “study time”–was another huge bonus in the opportunities it allowed me.

But developing that practice took time and was scary–always.

Eventually, after consistently talking to people about my faith and seeing so many new friends come to know Jesus, I began to see time alone at a table with a new acquaintance as a divine appointment. It was a time to talk to her about Jesus.

But it was still scary. Always. So I developed the habit of prayer.

Melanie Redd puts it so well: “Praying boldly boots me out of that stale place of religious habit into authentic connection with You.” She is so right. When we are in a scary situation and hoping that we choose the right words, prayer can be the only life preserver we see.

And praying for help in daily situations allows us to see that God’s love for us transcends boundaries of place and time. God answers those prayers and affirms our relationship with him. He allows us to bask in his love. I’m convinced this is the principle that allows Paul to tell us “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (Philippians 4:11).

Feeling  completely loved and affirmed by God can make us feel as though we are floating on a lake in the sunshine on an unsinkable inner-tube.

The crazy thing is that we are always completely loved and affirmed by God. We just often don’t feel it.

 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers,  neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. [Romans 8: 38-39 NIV]

Hope for our Children: Hidden Treasure

Is there hope for our children if we do not delight in reading the Bible?

Will our children never learn to love the Bible? Worse, will they never trust Christ as their Savior? How do we find hope for our children?

Thank God that our children’s faith and spiritual growth is in HIS hands rather than in ours! We can be grateful that our God is sovereign and can work in our child’s heart and life even if we do nothing to further the process. Nevertheless, most of us want to be part of the process of our child’s discovery of who Jesus Christ is. We desire the joy of seeing our child turn to Christ and then learn to love the Bible and prayer.

But too often the tasks that need to be done now subject us to the tyranny of the urgent.

It can be impossible to spend time developing our faith when life is this busy. We push that off until some vague time in the future.

One difficulty is that infants demand so much time that young parents don’t feel energy for anything not urgent. If that is your situation, try listening to the Bible on your phone while you are feeding your baby. Then pray out loud. It’s one way we can listen and talk to God while actively parenting.

Another difficulty is that babies often have siblings. What if you have older children around while you are feeding your baby? Is it possible in your family to have the children sit with you and listen to a story while you feed your baby?

My older children grew to love that time because they knew that when their sister was being fed, they would be read to. They rushed to get me a book when they saw I was starting to feed the baby.

Are you in a period where it is impossible to find quiet time to read your Bible and pray? Think about reading a Bible story to your children while the baby feeds. Simple prayer time can follow. God will bless you as he blesses your children.

Most importantly, remember that each phase of parenting is a season.

In some seasons it is easier to find time for spiritual routines than in others. And God loves us through them all. He loves us and he longs for us to seek him, so that he can allow us to feel his love more powerfully.

As Proverbs 2:4-6 and Psalm 21:6 tell us, when we seek the wisdom of the Lord, we experience eternal blessings and the joy of God’s constant presence with us. We find the “hidden treasure” put there for us. Finding that treasure ourselves gives us even more hope for our children.

What are little ways you have seen God bless you with signs of his presence with you? What are ways you have found to make way for the Bible in your busy life with children?  I would love to hear your stories.

Bullying Gave my Dad an Opportunity to teach me about Persecution

Bullying gave my dad the opportunity to bless me.

Bullying gave my dad an opportunity to change my life for the better.

I’m so glad I never had to deal with cyber bullying. I don’t know how I would have handled that. Compared to that, what I went through was not a big deal.

Yet any time a child is shunned, mocked, or picked on by peers is traumatic. Especially when it goes on for months.

My parents assumed I would not be harmed for life by these experiences if they allowed me to learn to trust God.

Fortunately for me, they were right.

But their responses could have harmed me.

They could have said it was no big deal to be called names repeatedly. Over-reacting could have been just as bad. I would have been mortified if they had immediately gone to the teacher with my complaints. I needed to vent, but I didn’t need to be babied.

Finally, though, girls flushed my underwear down the toilet and pummeled me on the way from the shower to my locker. That day my dad went to the principal and the gym teacher. I’m glad he did.

But I’m even more glad that he first used my situation to teach me about standing my ground in persecution.

“Persecution” sounds like an over-statement for being picked on for doing the right thing. But I have been permanently blessed by the fact that my dad took my bullying experience seriously enough to encourage me with verses from James 1. He read me verses 2-5 in many different versions:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (NIV)

Day after day.

I remember complaining that I had those verses memorized in different versions because of how many times Dad read them to me.

And I was not being thrown to the lions for proclaiming Christ. I was simply being bullied for obeying the teacher and taking a shower after gym. Stupid, right?

We all hated to shower in front of others but were forced to tell the teacher we had done it in order to get daily points. I chose not to lie about it. My Christian classmates must have felt guilty for lying, so they took it out on me.

How my dad responded to my troubles dignified my experience.

He showed me that living my life for Christ in little situations was important, even in bullying. He showed me that God would bless  me through my obedience. And he always prayed with me about it. Every day.

The amazing thing is that now I look back on seventh grade as a time of huge spiritual growth. Thanks, Dad.

What A Wrinkle in Time gets right

What A Wrinkle In Time gets right

What A Wrinkle in Time gets right is that scripture is essential in the lives of children. And that parents need to bring scripture directly into their children’s lives.

Meg’s dad may not have been adept in his use of Romans 8:28 with her. Especially since she was angry at him for botching her tessering and causing her so much pain.

Romans 8:28 is probably one of the most often poorly used Bible passages, and Meg’s dad’s use was no exception. Meg needed time to recover physically and emotionally before hearing this scripture from her dad. She was angry and needed to simmer down first.

But the passage was spot on from his perspective:

28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose. (NIV)

He had just rescued Meg from the stunningly hypnotic power of IT and enabled the trio to find a way to rescue Charles. He was trusting that he was called by God and that God would use even negative events to serve his overarching purpose.

We may not approve of Madeleine L’Engle’s unorthodox ways of incorporating scripture into her fantasy characters’ lives. But we need to admire a father who calls his daughter’s attention to scripture in times of crisis.

I sometimes got pretty tired of my dad’s reading James 1 with me when people picked on me in junior high. My daughters have also admitted that they sometimes had a hard time relating to the scriptures I shared with them when praying through difficulties.

But James 1 stuck with me. At one point I had it memorized in several versions. It is still one of my favorite passages.

A daughter I shared countless passages with during her struggles came to me later with a request: “Mom, can you write down for me all the Bible passages you’ve shared with me?”

What? Why? How am I supposed to remember them all?

I hadn’t even known at the time that the passages had helped her.

I knew she had a friend going through extremely serious struggles. It turned out she wanted to write these passages on index cards for her friend. She wanted to comfort her with them as they had comforted her. God’s use of his word in my daughter’s life, even when I hadn’t known it, amazed me.

I’m sure that by the end of the novel Meg’s dad would also have heard a much more positive response from Meg on Romans 8:28. By then Meg saw how everything did work out and that the negative event was a powerful learning experience in the triumph.

Meg would have seen with twenty-twenty hindsight that her dad had been seeing with eyes of faith. The tricky thing is that eyes of faith require faith–and have no proof.

How scary it is to speak words of faith into our children’s lives, when we really don’t know how God will work.

We just know he will. And that’s what A Wrinkle in Time gets right.

Praying with my Baby Now: How Jesus Surprised Me

The other day, surprisingly, required praying with my baby, my fifteen-month-old grandson.

An extremely loving little boy, he is very sensitive to other people’s pain. He was playfully doing peek-a-boo with me using pieces of clothing and then a lap-desk. A little over exuberant, he unintentionally bopped me hard on the nose with the lap-desk.

As I yelped in pain, my friend ran for some ice for my throbbing nose. My grandson’s face crumpled in tears. I told him it would be okay, hugged him, and told him I was not mad at him or at the lap-desk. I told him the ice would make it better. He kept crying softly. Later he whimpered every time he looked at the ice and cried whenever I put the ice to my nose.

I told him that Jesus would make it better.

Also that I knew he had not tried to hurt me and neither had the lap-desk. He did not seem to believe me. Seeing nothing was working, I suggested we should pray to Jesus right then. I don’t know what his face looked like as I was praying, because my eyes were closed with my hands folded around him in my lap.

I thanked Jesus that I knew he was going to make my nose better.

Then I thanked him that my grandson hadn’t meant to hurt me and that the lap-desk hadn’t either. Next I thanked him for loving us so much and told him we loved him too. Amen.

When I opened my eyes, after praying with my baby, his pain was visibly gone.

He was able to engage in play again. For a minute or so he still took pained little breaths whenever I applied the ice. But he seemed to know that things were going to be okay now. Obviously, he could not have understood all of my words.

Nevertheless, Jesus gave him peace. Through my prayer.

I’m sure I never prayed in similar moments with my own babies or toddlers. I had no idea the prayers would have mattered to them. But watching my kids grow up and watching how God has worked in me and in others around me as we hear people praying changed me. I determined to pray out loud much more often than I used to. Whether I’m praying with my baby, praying with someone at book club after hearing a need, or praying with someone in the grocery store, God hears. And God works.

The really cool thing: IT ALSO BLESSES ME.

As I watch God work through my little prayers about tiny things and huge things, my faith grows. The faith of those around me grows, but mine might grow even more. Amazing. What a good God we have. He allows us to be vessels through which he works.

Do you have a child, a co-worker, or a family member who might benefit from an audible prayer from you?

Do a Three-Year-Old’s Prayers Matter?

prayers matter: caleb-woods-182648(1)
Praying Girl

How much do prayers matter?

Have you ever felt nervous telling your child about something you are praying for? You know prayers matter, but you’re nervous about sharing a prayer with your child because you’re sure God’s answer will be “No.” I have.

Prayers matter more than we know, as my first daughter can tell us.

One morning hours after taking my baby and toddler to a huge neighborhood garage sale, I panicked. I realized I had left my beautiful, new stroller sitting on the busy sidewalk.

My internal debate began: –Oh, no! I can’t believe I was that stupid when I was packing the kids up.
–Please, Lord, let it still be there.
–Oh, I need to pray out loud, so that Katie can see that you are the one we turn to for help.
–But I can’t pray out loud because I know this was my stupidity and not something you are probably just going to fix for me.
–I really don’t want her to decide that you don’t answer prayer, just because your answer is No on this one.
–But I also don’t want her to think we don’t pray about things just because we’re the ones that messed them up.

As I turned the car back toward that busy corner, I explained all of this to my three-year-old.

Little Katie interrupted me, saying, “Mom, you drive. I’ll pray.”

As we drove, she prayed with folded hands and tightly closed eyes. The only way she knew to pray. She peeked every now and then and finally saw the corner.

Katie said, “There it is! I knew God would put his angels around it to hide it from the bad guys.” Today she recalls this as the first time she was sure God was real.

My second daughter’s earliest memory of prayers answered came with her detachable bed bar.

Somehow we had left it in an unknown motel.

Julia instantly decided she was going to pray and knew God would bring it back to her. Though we didn’t argue with her, we nervously thought that it wasn’t that simple.

“The mail carrier will bring it to me,” she told us. A few days later she looked out of her bedroom window and announced, “There comes the mail carrier with my bed bar!” Sure enough, a motel whose address and number we had never written down had found our address. They had shipped our toddler’s bed bar back to us. This experience created in Julia a simple, absolute faith that her prayers matter to God.

Our youngest daughter’s earliest memory of answered prayer was the recovery of her Angela baby doll.

Angela went everywhere with her but one day disappeared. We searched for hours, assuring Stephanie we would find her. When bedtime came and we had looked everywhere we knew without finding her, we were baffled.

During our family prayer time, we prayed that God would keep Angela safe and out of the rain that night. We even prayed that someone loving would find her and adopt her, if she had to be gone for good.

The next morning, walking our oldest to school, I saw notices tacked up on trees and telephone poles down the street: “FOUND. A MUCH-LOVED BABY DOLL. CALL ###-#### TO CLAIM.”

Someone walking his dog before the rain started had found her, evidently dropped out of Stephanie’s stroller. Stephanie was thrilled and knew at that moment that God loved her enough to care about her Angela doll too!

Each of these instances reminds me that God used my broken ways of bringing my daughters to him to create faith in their hearts. He showed them their prayers matter–even when my own prayers were faithless.