Historically, our family hasn't been as consistent as we would like to be with family devotions. Although Rhodes and I were both raised very differently in the way of how our families received or rejected a pattern of practice of a faith, we are alike in that neither of us have an enduring example from which to draw upon for frequent, regular, fruitful family worship time. And so, naturally, we have tried many different ways over the last nearly eleven years of our marriage to implement time together in the word, in prayer, and in general time together to hear one another's hearts. Tried many different ways, failed in just as many ways. I say failure with intent here, although I'm sure I should apply the same grace to myself as the Lord Himself has. But it's not so easy for me. It matters how we raise the little ones given to us; how they see the world around them (do they see it as broken and groaning together for a peace only available through a hope secured by the finished work of Christ?), how they view the reality of a Holy God (do they acknowledge they are under an ultimate Authority that has their very breath in His hands?), how they see their sin (do they agree that they stand corrupt and sinful outside of the forgiveness of God?), and how they see their own dignity and value (do they know they have been given infinite worth by a Creator God who carefully crafted them, breathed life into their lungs, and has written a story for them by His very good hand?). I didn't know any of these things as I was growing up - not one word of them. But God -- he saw into my bleak and miserable attempts to self-actualize my own glory and broke them into a million beautiful pieces when he wrote Tell's death into my story. And now? I see the price of my redemption, the cost paid so dearly by Christ's sacrifice as so immeasurably invaluable that it must be shared. It must be verbalized, sang, read, and taught, every day in some way, to this little gaggle of girlies He's given to me to steward. It's a matter of life and death to me. Still, I fail at consistency. My heart yearns for the right pattern, the right order, the right design, but I haven't found that secret ingredient yet.
The next sentence should read: "Until now." And then I would spew forth the key to consistent family devotions that would read differently than the ten books we've Amazon'd over the years to make something stick.
But it doesn't. Instead, I ask for forgiveness. I have been so hard-nosed in insisting that our family follow the pattern of others that I forgot to ask the Lord how He wanted to specifically lead our own family. Unique, just like every other blood-bought family; every family that bows their faces to the ground asking that the Lord would lead them, these are the families that the Lord promises not to abandon, that His word will be in their mouths and they will be kept under the shadow of His wings. In my panic-driven fear that my children will not know what I did not know, I would hastily search for the perfect fit, forgetting altogether that God's word itself is sufficient. His wisdom sprinkled over every page of the Bible is for us to ingest, chew upon, talk about together, and pray over.
So over the last few weeks, as our earth has come under the blanket of a virus, and every bit of response imaginable has overtaken its inhabitants, I felt the urge once again to shore up our now government-sanctioned time together as a family. Primarily, I've wanted to see how the Lord would use this time to teach us more about Himself. And without a book, save for God's word, without an outline or teaching notes, the Lord gave me an idea to ask the family to write down a verse on a piece of scratch paper whenever they read one that stuck out to them. I spoke with Rhodes and he jumped at the idea. Whenever a text stood out at them from a sermon or a song, scribble it out. Whenever we're talking about things of the Lord and they want to know where mom or dad might be coming from, look it up and write it down. All the scratch papers are folded and put into our late goldfish, Meggie's, bowl (it's clean), and then every morning we are pulling a verse, and going one by one, how does this verse lead you to pray today? What are you excited for/scared of/angry at/sad because of today? How can we pray for you? And there it is. We're hearing each other. We're talking together. God's word is at the center. Prayer together is launching us out for the day. Oh, please God, let this continue.
This morning, after a particularly sad evening last night in knowing that rest of the school year was hanging in the balance, I pulled this verse out of the bowl (ps. we pull them out like raffle tickets, eyes closed, audience in hesitant expectancy):
"Why do you forget us forever, why do you forsake us for so many days?" -Lamentations 5:20
Five deep sighs and a pause after I read it aloud. "It feels that way," says one. "But shouldn't the bible encourage us?" says another. "Wasn't that Jeremiah who wrote that?" says another. Rhodes shared with them who wrote that and why...what Jeremiah's eyes must have been seeing that caused him to express such deep angst in feeling forgotten and forsaken. We talked about how wonderful it is to have a God that allows us to feel the darkness around us and turn our tear-stained faces to him and weep for the pain of it all that feels so unfair -- and He never waivers, He never leaves us. Rhodes reminded the girls that the Bible is full of humans desperately trying to make sense of senseless situations around them and turning to a God that promises to restore it all, to restore us all that turn to Him, to Himself.
Right now, amidst a quarantine scenario and all the anxiety that surrounds us in not being able to go about our days feeling steady, one can feel like Jeremiah; confused and in awe of the utter strangeness of it all. We talked about the mercy of springtime; did Jeremiah see the buds coming anew on the branches of even one tree in that dark season? Did he find a space outside to just breathe in deep and remind himself that God was in fact so very, very near, even amidst the chaos and destruction? Rhodes and I reminded the girls that we have those mercies today. God is near. He is working -we can see this in one short internet search of how humans all over the globe are moving toward mercy, toward giving, toward love...even as they have to move away from physical proximity to one another.
We have the time for our new method of family devotions. This has been my complaint for so long, where is this time to do "family devotions" (said sarcastically because that's where I go when I'm under duress) when I'm stretched to the max, Rhodes travels out of state nearly every week for work, we have no family nearby to help, and ultimately the last few months I have felt more alone than I have felt was possible in all the busy. Before the quarantine was when I actually was echoing Jeremiah in his lament -Why have you forgotten me, God?- And He answered. Slow down. Stay home. No DC trip with Ava. No spring break mission trip. Disappointment after disappointment, cancellation after cancellation. I wept, but then, I rallied. And while the world resisted the quarantine I softly spoke a prayer of thanksgiving. Here is the time to do this.
Now the prayer is, O God, will you etch this habit into our lives so that when it all comes back: the schedule, the time apart, the loneliness, when it all comes back can this be a rhythm of our lives that sustains us, may your word sustain us and cause us to come again and again before you and praise you, gladly give you our days and let you move in us in ways we haven't seen before. And O Lord? If I fall back off the devotional wagon again; if Meggie's fish bowl hasn't been stuffed with verses and I begin to feel panicky at how I'm failing yet again in my leading the littles to you; will you gently pull me aside and remind me that you are here? And you are sovereign even over my weak attempts to point them to you? And that your prophet Jeremiah gave us a rock solid reminder of your promises in this beautiful little book of Lamentations?
"But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him.' The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him." -Lamentations 3:21-25 (and on and on in this chapter. It's so, so good.) Amen, Lord Jesus and again, Amen.