Last week a friend came to visit.
A covenant sister known only through social media until last Saturday.
She shared her heart and she shared her story and there was a time, searching for answers, that I had prayed fervently for God to reveal “all things hidden” and when I look into her eyes I see the face of a God who answers prayer and keeps His promises and God literally dropped her into my Facebook inbox and now here we sit.
In the course of the afternoon, there were many take-a-ways but what truly resonated was this:
“I don’t want my children to know about God. I want them to know God.”
I’m teaching my children scripture and our home is filled with words of truth; I am teaching them to know about God, but what I am doing that they might know God?
Knowing Him by knowing me? Seeing Christ in me?
Do they see Christ in me?
Or do they see the beaten-down Mom, dark-ugly heart, still harboring un-forgivess that wants Jesus—and.
I want Jesus, and for them to know the truth.
About our marriage.
The truth about our divorce.
I want Jesus and a salary above the poverty line.
I want Jesus and. And. And.
I want them know God and love God.
More than their Dad.
Why isn’t He enough?
Today there’s a man here to tune the piano. I have a beautiful piano that hasn’t been tuned since I moved it (twice) and probably for 50 years before that. He calls me in:
“Mary K. Here’s your problem. You’ve got a crack in the soundboard.”
A crack in the foundation.
A crack that is the forgetting.
Forgetting Him, the fount of every blessing.
They are little. But with each crack, hurt and anger and jealousy and un-forgivness and.
And through those cracks come pings and rings and it’s impossible to sing with a joyful heart.
When you continually forget.
“Tune my heart to sing Thy grace. ”
And it continues.
“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love; Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.”
Tune my heart to sing thy grace. Seal up the cracks.
The cracks and sounds that forget to praise and forget to thank and forget–
His faithfulness. His goodness.
His grace, amazing.
Why do I forget His unchanging love and yet choose to remember his unfaithful heart.
How can I complain of not enough time and too much time and forget that He knows and forget that He cares and forget—
Tune my heart, Lord.
Turn my heart.
Bind. Up. This broken heart.
Yesterday I learned of young woman (friend of a friend,) with young children, had passed away. I didn’t know her, but felt strangely effected by her death.
As a mom, maybe? A fellow forty-something with dreams and desires and plans and I worry about tomorrow and I worry about the day after that and I complain about sharing and hearts-worn-and-tearing and how easily I forget that
How do we live life after death?
After divorce and heartbreak and whatever the mess that is your life right now?
We name graces.
We recognize the gift.
We tune our hearts back to praise; back to joy; back to remembering.
And this is what I remember.
He is good and He is faithful and His mercies are new every morning. There is nothing I can possibly think of that He has forgotten and what is it that this heart wants?
I want my children to know God. I want them to know that His promises are true. That the joy of the Lord is my strength and that His grace is enough.