Praying to Our Father in Heaven (2)

We are taught to pray, “Our Father.”  “Father,” that is, and not “Mother.”  Perhaps there was a time when it would have been absurd for me to note this, but that time is not now.  We live in country crazed with re-defining gender.  Only feminist ideas and ideals are politically correct.  But our God has chosen to reveal Himself as “Father,” and so we address Him in that way.

Our Father has given us a mother.  She is the church, where His children are fed on the milk of His word through the work of the pastor.  She is the one whose deacons provide for the children’s needs when they are in want.  She is the one whose elders discipline them when they go astray.  Do you belong to such a mother?

                We are taught to pray, “Our Father which art in heaven.”  This heavenly Father is no earthly Father.  He is exalted high above us, the King of earth and heaven.  So we address Him as “Father” – not  “Dad” or “Daddy” – giving Him the honor that is His due.  Yes, He pities we who are His children.  He knows our frame: we are dust.  We would do well to remember our frame as well, for we show no thanks for His great mercy when we fail to address Him reverently.  Our first appeal is that His name be hallowed.  To pray this petition immediately after addressing God flippantly or without thought is a contradiction at the very least, and blasphemy at its worst.

Earlier this summer, a window salesman spent an evening in our home.  He arrived at suppertime.  After spending a small part of the visit marketing windows, he stayed on until after midnight discussing religion, reason, and the Christian faith.  He was an intelligent man, and, as my husband and I listened, he attempt to demonstrate why he doesn’t believe that God exists.  He spoke of the vastness of the universe, and accused Christians not only of stupidity, but of arrogance.  “You think that human beings on a tiny plant, third from the sun, are the reason for the universe!  That is arrogant!  That is not using reason!  The universe is much greater than human beings!” 

At the time I wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to that accusation, but since then I’ve read the quotation below by John Piper, from his book Don’t Waste Your Life:

Sometimes people say that they cannot believe that, if there is a God, he would take interest in such a tiny speck of reality called humanity on Planet Earth. The universe, they say, is so vast, it makes man utterly insignificant. Why would God have bothered to create such a microscopic speck called the earth and humanity and then get involved with us?

Beneath this question is a fundamental failure to see what the universe is about. It is about the greatness of God, not the significance of man. God made man small and the universe big to say something about himself. And he says it for us to learn and enjoy—namely, that he is infinitely great and powerful and wise and beautiful. The more the Hubble Telescope sends back to us about the unfathomable depths of space, the more we should stand in awe of God. The disproportion between us and the universe is a parable about the disproportion between us and God. And it is an understatement. But the point is not to nullify us but to glorify him.

                That is why we address Him “Our Father, which art in heaven.”

Eli Caleb - 1!

\

The baby grew.

He grew...

and he grew...

and he grew.

He grew until he was one year old, and he crawled all around the house.  He pulled all the books off the shelves.  He pulled all of the dishes out of the cupboards, and, when the back door was open, he crawled across the lawn, looked up at the tomato plants, and picked every green tomato in sight.  Sometimes his mother would say, “This kid is driving me crazy!”

But at night time, when that one-year old was quiet, the mother laid in her bed and she thought and she thought and she thought.  And she wondered how it could be that, though she’d been with the little boy almost every waking moment of his life, she felt as if she’d missed his first year.  And she wondered how it could be that the Lord of heaven and earth had entrusted someone so very special to such a silly and selfish woman as she.*

Eli Caleb, I love you –

From our first bond…

To busy and blonde.

From swaddled bean…

To long and lean.

From baby giggle…

To writhe and wriggle.

From tiny sneezes…

To hugs and squeezes.

From rocking chair…

To climbing stairs.

From nursery rhymes…

To teething time.

From newborn smell

And show-and-tell…

To open doors

And littered floors.

From that first roll…

To upturned bowls.

From tiny toes

And button nose...

To filthy shirts

And eating dirt.
From diaper filler...
To dishwasher spiller.
From "ooo" and "aah"
To "Da-Da-Da!"

From that first sight

And sleepless nights…

To toy tornadoes

And picking tomatoes.

From come whatever…

To forever.

Mom

*Inspired by Robert Munsch’s Love You Forever.

Praying to Our Father in Heaven (1)

For me, writing for the Enterprise brings me back to my school days.  Like then, the most difficult part of the assignment for me is choosing a topic on which to write.

That’s why I find it helpful to write in series.  First 1 Corinthians, chapter by chapter.  Then areas of Christian discipline.  What now?  Our pastor is preaching through the part of the Heidelberg Catechism that expounds the Lord’s Prayer.  Perhaps I could do the same, I thought.  Then I ran across a rather satirical comment about the two “necessary” topics for every Christian writer: marriage and the Lord’s Prayer.  I’ve written about marriage, but not the Lord’s Prayer.  Guess it’s time.

I’ve heard preaching on the Lord’s Prayer yearly since I was born.  Consequently, many of the ideas that I’ll include in the weeks ahead are not originally my own, but I would be hard-pressed to cite the original source. 

I write under the assumption that you understand that, to quote the Heidelberg Catechism, “prayer is necessary for Christians.”  “Offer unto God thanksgiving, and pay thy vows unto the Most High: and call upon Me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me” (Psalm 50:14-15).

The disciples of Jesus observed that He was a man of prayer.  “And it came to pass, that as He was praying in a certain place, when He ceased, one of his disciples said unto him, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1).  Jesus responded with the prayer we know as "The Lord's Prayer."  The same prayer is recorded in Matthew 6:9ff, right in the middle of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  This suggests that our Lord presented this particular prayer on multiple occasions, intending that it be recited and used as a model prayer.

Martin Luther called the Lord’s Prayer the “greatest martyr on Earth.”  It is repeated, said he, “So frequently without thought or feeling and without reverence or faith.”

When Jesus taught His disciples to pray, He taught them to address God as “Our Father.”  God is referred to as “Father” only 15 times in the Old Testament.  In contrast, Jesus refers to God as “Father” more than 165 times in the gospels.  To be told to address God in such a personal way was likely shocking to Jesus’ disciples.  After all, the High Priest insisted that Jesus’ claim to be God’s Son rendered Him worthy of death (Mark 14:61-65).

                We are taught to pray “Our Father.”  God is not the Father of all men.  He is the Creator of all men (Acts 17:28), but He is the Father only of those who “believe on His name” (John 1:12).  “For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.  For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’”  (Rom. 8:14-15).  Jesus is God’s only begotten Son; that is, He is by nature divine, and God’s Son.   Through His death and resurrection He has given God's elect the privileges of childhood that belonged only to Him.  There is, therefore, no universal brotherhood of men.  Universal neighborhood, yes, but our brothers and sisters are only those who believe in Christ, who are members of His Church.  We pray to God mindful that we are a part of His family, and mindful of not only our own needs, but those of our brothers and sisters as well.               

Link: What will be the cost to the church?

Tim Challies (Informing the Reforming) is one of my favorite bloggers.  Not a week goes by that I'm not edified by something which he posts or to which he links.  In a post he wrote a while back about his experience as pastor/counselor, Challies noted that he's come to assume that all of the young men he pastors have been exposed to pornography and that many of them are frequent users, even addicts.  Today he addresses the young men of the church regarding this issue.  Those of you with teen or even pre-teen boys, share his post with them!

Marie Eve - 5!

Marie Eve,

Can it be?
Blue eyes,

Sparkles inside.
Strawberry curls,
Princess twirls.
Early riser,
Growing wiser.
A tad dramatic,

Drawing fanatic.
Skirt-wearer,
Up-do hair-er.
Slow to eat,
Not too neat.

Quick to cry,

And mother Eli.

Elena and Pam’s

Number one fan.

Former butt scooter,

You keep gettin’ cuter!
Oh me, oh my!

Baby Girls - you're 5!

Trouble Ahead

Beware.

The little blonde men are more and more becoming partners in crime.

Not One of God's People Lives Child-free

Have you seen the latest issue of Time magazine?

Here's a thoughtful response. 

A Time to Rest (Part 2)

Our family trip last week to Glenwood Springs, CO, just might be the loveliest we've ever had.  After driving and hiking to Hanging Lake, we arrived at our "home" for 2 nights - a ski condo on Sunlight Mountain.  In the summer, especially mid-week, the ski condominiums are nearly deserted, and the prices are a fair bit cheaper than the nearby hotels.  Plus you get a kitchen and views like this from your front door:

We spent almost the entire day Wednesday at the Glenwood Hot Springs Pool, the largest natural hot spring pool in the world.  The spring produces 3 millions gallons of 104 degree water per day, and it's in a lovely setting, surrounded on all sides by Glenwood Springs' beautiful red mountains.  If you are looking for a resort-like setting in the US, here's one.

(Insert about the pool:   only the darker pool in the foreground (the therapy pool) is left at 104 degrees.  It's like a massive hot tub.  Cool water is pumped into the larger pool, which is used most of the time, as wellas the baby pool (behind me in the photo) so that the temperature of those pools is more like bathwater.  The waters in all three pools are mineral-rich.  If you get splashed in the face or happen to swallow any of the water (Eli certainly gulped his fair share ;-), you immediately notice that it tastes very salty.  The minerals are supposed to be soothing.  As a result, the therapy pool reminded BJ and I of the pool of Bethesda from the Bible - many elderly and sick people were soaking there.)

Whenever I hear the word "pierogi" I think of the book Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, thanks to a lovely little eulogy I once read in Martha Stewart Living.  Now I'll remember this immaculate little mom n' pop joint, too...and it's pierogis, blintzes, potato pancakes, stuffed cabbage and the sturdy Polish Grandma who prepared our food right next to us.  We ended up there simply because we didn't want to lose our parking spot at the pool, and are we ever glad we did!

Outside G1 Thursday AM, the morning of departure.  If you look closely you might be able to see the hummingbird feeders hanging among the flags.  The kids noticed them, too, along with nearly a dozen hummingbirds.  In her haste to tell me about them, Leah tripped in the doorway and gashed her knee so badly that we spent the morning getting her stitched up.  

The view of Mount Sopris as we leave Glenwood Springs.

Our plan for Thursday was drive to see the Maroon Bells near Aspen, CO.  Here's a photo someone else took of them at sunrise in the fall:



Lovely.  They are the most photographed peaks in the U.S.  However, it rained and rained and rained some more while we were there, so when we could see them, they looked like this:

Oh well.  We'll have to go back someday.  We drove home via Independence Pass, and I could've taken a photo at every turn, but didn't...partly due to the raindrops on my window.  Another area we hope to see sometime in clear sunshine.  What a beautiful, fascinating part of the country to see firsthand.  Have I said it already?  It was lovely.

A Time to Rest (Part 1)

There's a rest stop off I-70 as you near Glenwood Springs, CO, several hours' drive from our house.  A paved trail follows the Colorado River from the rest area to the foot of Deadhorse Creek.  From there you can hike to Hanging Lake.

When you set out on this hike, your heart is light: the canyon is beautiful, and the sun is warm.

But soon you encounter the path to Hanging Lake, and your enthusiasm wavers.
The path is narrow.
The narrow way is a climb.
A rocky climb.
A rocky, 1.2 mile long climb, and your destination is 1,000 feet up.

You do not hike to Hanging Lake alone - there are others on the trail.
Some of them encourage you.  Some do not.
But most of the struggle on the hike to Hanging Lake is a lonely struggle.
It is a fight against weakness in your body and weakness in your heart.
It is the fight against the temptation to give up.

There are many children on the way to Hanging Lake.
Those that are with young are both blessed and burdened.
Your children notice things that you would not - things like inchworms and butterflies.
Their antics give opportunity for shared laughter, taking your mind off your fatigue and the ache in your back.
But a parent bears the weaknesses and the fatigue of his children along with his own.

Some have discarded walking sticks, with handholds worn smooth, when they reached the end of the trail.
These sticks will ensure that your feet do not slip.
But there are times on the way when you may need to get on your knees, to climb with all fours.

There are places to stop along the way to Hanging Lake.
To pause look up at the cliffs above and the waterfalls beside.

To breathe in the fresh scent of pine and relish the shade from the now-blistering sun.

But sometimes, when you are still, you look too far ahead and become discouraged with the difficulty of the way before you.
That is why it is best to keep walking with your eyes on the step directly in front of you.
So that your heart does not become discouraged.
So that your feet do not slip.

The end of the hike is the hardest of all.

Hope gets you through.
Faith lifts your weary legs one more vertical step after another.

There is the anticipation of reunion with those who were lost to your sight along the way.

The expectation of beauty that you have never seen before, of hanging gardens, waterfalls, and water, crystal-clear.

And there is the promise of rest.