Why, as Christians, we are doing it wrong

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LET me speak to you as a Christian in the first person. Not pointing the bone at anyone, allow me to paint a picture of the seventh chapter of Romans, verses 14 through 25, through my eyes, heart and soul.

If Paul was a sinner who did at times the thing he hated doing, and at other times did not do what he needed to do, what chance to stand as “saints” do we have? If a litany of Old and New Testament characters is immortalised as sinners in the most read book ever, why do we go on pretending we have it all together? But we do. Us Christians have that down to a fine art. We pretend and the world (as well as God and other Christians) sees right through us!

Note well these truths:

Sin is a contagion all through me and all through my lifespan. I myself am a man who daily gets it wrong; the things I think, what I say, how and why and when I do things. Not one day goes past when I don’t intentionally or unintentionally get it wrong. I am Christian. What this means in the simplest of terms is I have agreed with God that I acknowledge that in and of myself I’m no good — I need His help and saving, not simply to be saved into heaven, but to be saved from myself in my life now. As a Christian, God challenges me to live truthfully as a sinner saved by His grace. That means the masks and veneer and pantomime must go! And for the most part they do, and have… but the drive of inauthenticity is powerful.

The Christian call is not to live some perfect, inspiring life. No! That is a scam of the enemy. We think we’re glorifying God when we look good. When we give the impression we have all the right answers. That we’re a font of wisdom. Rubbish. We deny God anytime we appear to have strength. His strength is on maximum display when we’re weak and yet resist the deadly sins, greed, anger, pride, lust, envy, sloth, gluttony. Yet, we can’t even get that twenty percent right with a lifetime’s consistency. We all have a thorn (or thorns) in the side as Paul did, whether we’re Christian or not. We must stop trying to get it right. We must start admitting how wrong we are. Then the truth will liberate us!

Stop the guilt. Live! Godly sorrow which leads to confession and repentance is from God; the guilt that runs beyond godly sorrow is from His arch nemesis. Wherever we can we must stop living as guilty ones. That’s the irony of the good news; we who know how guilty we are find the ultimate freedom in that knowledge. Knowing we cannot get it right, that we need help, frees us of external or internal pressure to be better than we are.

The world cannot understand. Stop expecting it to. To the world, especially in this Day, any God-righteousness is self-righteousness. Our voices aren’t respected on any issue unless we first respect all voices. As Christians, especially as Christians, we’re not better than anyone else. Most non-believing people won’t believe that, but they unconsciously need to hear it. Non-believers expect us to be better than they are, especially morally, but they hate it when we attempt to perform to such a standard. We are better to reverse the flow; express humble certitude and occasionally surprise them with our devotion to godly ethics.

As Christians we’re doing it wrong. We always have, and we always will. Being Christian is not about being right, but it is about endeavouring to do right. There is a massive difference between the two.

We are no better witnesses of God and the Christian faith than when we admit we are wrong.

Lament fit for a King, David’s way to strength in weakness

IT’S only when we’re weak that we desperately crave strength, and until we’re desperate we have no idea how important strength is.

Psalm 56 is a case in point; an unfathomably personal sonnet with God; a heart cry of a person in the grip of lambasting terror; a covenant of faith in God, vacillating in enervating doubt, but choosing to trust.

Do you get the idea that David — the anointed one of God, yet so many years away as it would be from becoming King — was suffering as much as you can conceive anyone suffering?

Only as we discover the presence of a lament as bad as laments can be do we discover this phenomenon: humanity has been there before… David, and before him, Joseph and Moses and Job, and after him, Jesus… and so many myriads of mere mortals more.

Such a revelation catches us off guard. How can life hold open the possibility of such abysmal suffering? And, really, can God be found there? It is the question we all ask when nothing reconciles our pain.

We are never ready for the suffering that carries us off all the way to lament. A destination where we reside for some such time that changes us. We do not return the same, nor do we get back to where we were. Yet, with God, where His Presence makes its way known to us, we receive something tangible that would be impossible to receive otherwise.

In the mode of His Presence, that craving that drove us deeply into Him — our weakness — bequeaths to us strength; a most godly humility to bear whatever the moment holds, even as it overwhelms us. This very human experience of being met by God is nothing special in and of itself — countless thousands have been there — but it is alluring and glorious, even if it is we’re confounded to arrive there.

How brilliantly wise God is; to arrange strength for our weakness even as suffering wreaks havoc, that we might only more fully know Him because of our weakness.

It is necessary to give over (admit and accept) our human weakness to gain divine strength.

Put another way, the presence of human weakness is essential to receive the divine strength of God’s Presence.

Living as imperfect when serving a perfect God

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FOLLOWING Jesus is less about spruiking the biblical standard, more about living in the light of the Father’s grace. If we’re calling people to grace, because Father God now sees Jesus in each of us, we have less of a role pretending to be perfect, and more of a role living in harmony with other sinners.

The Christian sees themselves for who they are; a ruined sinner in dire need of saving. And we all need saving — once for all time, and yet, now and today, tomorrow, and certainly yesterday.

Being in the world yet not being of the world leaves us Christians living on a knife’s edge. Conversion to Christ has shown us just how imperfect we are, and how beautiful such an awful reality can be, but the nonbelieving world have some warped perception that, as Christians, we have our lives together. We certainly wish we had, because we want all the glory for that to go to God, so they might also be convinced that God is great.

But the more Christian we become — I mean, by understanding — the more we know how much we need saving, the more we realise how insidiously dangerous sin is, and the less we rest in our reliance on our own strength. Being a servant of the Lord reconciles us to the necessity for humility, which is honesty, integrity, the fear of the Lord. We keep close check on pride, and judge and condemn people less, understanding and accepting that we will still be prideful, and we will still judge and condemn people.

What sets us apart from those who are worldly? Well, there’s another concept the world misunderstands. They see us Christians as either ‘holy’ or supposedly holy, either as people who are ‘good enough’ (i.e. better than others) to be Christian, or hypocrites. I say ‘holy’, because the word means ‘set apart’ to God. It has little to do with being perfect, yet the world links perfection with the term, ‘holy’. The irony is we, of all people, have come to terms with how imperfect we truly are. That is what sets us apart. We know how good the good news is! — that we could never satisfy God if not for Jesus. This is what the world cannot understand.

As Christians, we are wholly imperfect forgiven and restored people living for the glory of God. We, of all people, need to live as sinners saved by a gracious God, and that’s all. Not as the world imagines us to be.

The great thing about the good news is that we who are no good are regarded by God as godly good because of one who was the only good.

We who are no good ought never to pretend we are, and, because we have been saved, we give the glory for good to God.

When God spoke into existence my Heritage Seed

RECALLING an impromptu holiday period, we set off in the car for an eight-hour drive to spend a week with my wife’s parents in beautiful Esperance. My father-in-law was serving as the Baptist Church’s interim pastor.

When we left our house, I had no idea what I would receive on the visit.

It was a time in our lives when our young family really felt in the dark. I had lost my job, and reality was about to strike in a very dire way. Indeed, the next few months great challenging change was about to rain over us, which included me taking work I once thought I would never need to do again. It was a time when, as I look back, we had no idea what was going to hit us — even though we had been pushed to the brink during the previous months. This time in our lives was harder than losing Nathanael.

At the time my father-in-law was a mentor, someone I would spend time with wrestling spiritually.

One morning during our stay, as I was writing in a little office set-up they had prepared for me, he came in and gave me a piece of paper, deliberately not saying a word. My father-in-law loves a chat, but he has another mode when an instrument will do his talking for him.

The photo above is that piece of paper. As I read it I thought, what an amazing story. Imagine Bach succeeding from such brittle beginnings. As it is with me, it took a few moments to realise I was in the story. Then I knew why he gave it to me.

He gave me more than a piece of paper. It was more than a collection of words, a concept, a story. It was more than interesting and stimulating. The typed words on the paper was an instrument of God.

With this single sheet of paper, God’s Spirit unearthed in me a vision I think I’ve always had — an eternal purpose God placed long ago into my heart.

This rectangular oracle spoke a Heritage Seed. That Heritage Seed spoke into the existence of my consciousness that something lay ahead of ‘failure’; something of massive encouragement that meant that failure was always part of God’s plan.

What I learned in the receiving of my Heritage Seed is that such things are spoken from eternity into time to fill us with an all-sustaining purpose. I cannot go into details about my Heritage Seed here, but I can tell you that once God reveals it to you, it changes things. The Heritage Seed inhabits you.

Back in that moment of receiving this revelation from God, for my life, knowledge of the existence of my Heritage Seed, it wasn’t complete. I still had to take it; own it. That took a process of time, but it started by my claiming that instrument as an important stake in the ground.

A Heritage Seed is spoken from eternity into time in a way that we know is from God, related to our specific purpose on earth.

God is never more real to us than when He joins His purpose with ours.

Hhh

You grieve how you grieve

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WHEN we lost Nathanael I’m sure there were some, perhaps many, who doubted the grief journey we were on. Maybe we grieved too well for some people. All I know is that our grief journey was normal and appropriate and only what it could be for us.

We were simply gifted with the ability to live our reality. We had both grieved deeply before. Grief wasn’t new to us. And the prayers of others, combined with our faith, that God could heal Nathanael at any time if He wanted to, helped very much sufficiently enough. The Lord was our Shepherd, and we had no lack. And yet God also gifted us to enter very deeply into the realm of our sorrow. We were always able to be vulnerable and transparent as persons, as a partnership, and with other people, and we remain amenable to that capacity to this day.

That season of loss gave us an appreciation of a fact, though, which is something that merits stating.

We all grieve differently, and nobody should be judged for the way or the length of time they grieve. There are no rules to adhere to and no verifiable standards with which to checklist in recovering from loss. It can be said of nobody that they are good at it. If people suffer well they are gifted that grace from God, usually as an advent from bitter life experience. We can, of course, help the process by being courageously honest by plying faith. And nobody can legitimately say, ‘get over it!’

There is no right or wrong time to do anything when in grief; only what you know in your heart is right. You can’t grieve the wrong way, so long as you do grieve.

If you’re sorrowful to the point of frequently not wanting to go on you’re not weaker than the person getting on with their life after a month or two. If you’ve lost your life partner and the pressure is on to sell-up, don’t be pressured. Allow the process of grief to be respected. Don’t feel guilty. (There is too much unwarranted guilt.) Make up your rules, as they only apply to you anyway. The best piece of advice I ever received was ‘be gentle with yourself’, for God made you, and if anyone should respect you it should be you. So, be encouraged, the grief won’t last forever. We all grieve differently, and nobody should be told they are doing it wrong.

Being Led by the Holy Spirit

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CONSCIOUS contact with God, together with the will that obeys His voice, is the process of being led by the Spirit.

I had it happen to me very recently in visiting a shopping precinct. I felt God’s hand lead me out of one store and into another. Was it for any discernible ‘faith’ reason? No. I just got the sense from the aimlessness I was experiencing in the first store to leave it, without hesitation, and continue walking in tune with the Spirit. For me, being led by the Spirit is decisiveness. That decision was not mine; it appeared to be mine, but Someone Else was in control; a subtle yet significant difference.

Being led by the Holy Spirit is a paradoxical awareness. It isn’t initially a cognitive awareness. It isn’t something we think up. It is revelation. It occurs to us that we feel a sense for, or an absence of, peace. It’s a thing to be trusted. The Lord speaks in terms of the inaudible knowing. We hear (inaudibly), we know, and we move in nearly the same moment.

Defying explanation, discerning the Holy Spirit is something of an imperfect art. But then this is nothing about a foolproof way of knowing God, for the Lord is at best a mystery.

Being led by the Holy Spirit is a flow of discerning wise action and having the courage to act on primary faith-guided impulses. These are impulses set apart from our own desires. They can only be called impulses because there is a lack of thought about going with them. It is pure trust of awareness. Being led by the Holy Spirit is hence the willingness to act with discernment and spontaneity in ways that please God.

It is the role of the disciple of Christ to learn how to trust the Holy Spirit.

My worst Christmas ever and how God redeemed it

2004 was a weirdly hope-filled, growing, expanding year for me in the most part, but there were still elements of hangover from the previous year. Overall, the year was a solid eight-out-of-ten. It was the year I heard God call me out of secular-life-for-me into ministry-for-Him. It was also a year where I grew so much as a father into the new life my family was thrust into.

But the days of December 24th – 26th I encountered a new rock bottom.

Now you have to understand that, at this stage of my life, rock bottom experiences were neither unusual nor uncommon. Grief had defined and punctuated much of the previous fifteen months — even despite the joy and hope that I received from church and my relationship with Christ.

December 24th, 2004 was a long day — you know one of those days when you’re incredibly expectant that God is going to move. The day felt like two or three days, and the Christmas service at church was to end that day. This day my expectations proved to be grounded in a ridiculously false hope. I was crushed. I ended the day in the upstairs portion of the church beside myself in grief, awash in tears, watching below as people gradually left after the service; I was angry with myself, with certain others, and not least with God. Because I was in church leadership, and I had access to the building, and I kept quiet enough, I waited until everyone had gone and then I left the building — when it was pitch black. I felt humiliated — a fool.

That Christmas Eve night I did not sleep well. I was haunted by a particular theology that divorced Christian men and women often wrestle with.

Christmas morning is something I’ll never forget. My girls and I opened our presents together on a foreshore section of our nearby beach. However joyous they were did not help my mind, which was contorted in many machinations made up by the enemy of attack. I felt like a loser and my mind resembled a mush of hopeless and unhelpful loops organised against me.

Enter the worst hours of all. My daughters returned to their mother, I spent a couple of hours roaming as if dazed under the blazing Australian sun, walking alone, on and near a beach that was completely bereft of human presence.

Until two Jehovah’s Witnesses met me along the path.

It is the queerest thing that God has so often done over my walk with Him — He uses the most unlikely of people to help. The two JW’s asked if I was okay… I said, not! They pastorally cared for me the best they could, quickly discerning that my conundrum lay in the theology of remarriage. They showed me Scriptures that I had long pored through — they gave me some stated hope that I could marry again. But this was only the beginning of the enigma I faced. In truth, this aspect of was only a part of the overall paradox that was my overall lived experience at the time.

I drove home and spent the afternoon alone. Outside for a while, then I slept for a long time.

Alone on Christmas day, I am unsure if there is any conscious experience that could be worse.

I had decided within one day that I was leaving the church that had so embraced me — such was the extent of the humiliation I felt. Yet it was totally my own doing. I was spiritually exhausted.

One of the elders in the church, a mentor of mine, called at the end of the day. Within a short time, he had convinced me not to leave the church, and the following morning my redemption was complete when my pastor breathed fresh life into my eventual false hope — but not being ready to let go of that forlorn hope, I am convinced, even today, it was right for him to do this. In smiling and saying one simple thing, I heard acceptance and hope, both what my soul craved.

Within the space of 48 hours I experienced the ecstasy of an exhilarating expectation, despair when those faint hopes were dashed, and God’s redemption at the kindness and care of my brothers in Christ.

It could be our worst Christmas, but there is always hope of God’s redeeming us. And if it is the worst Christmas, hold out hope for good Christmases for they are sure to return.

Make a home in your heart for hope to grow for when despair strikes its ruthless blow. When hope is home, hope is ready.

Peace and Patience – God’s Answer to Prayer

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SAMUEL Rutherford (1600 – 1661) delivers two concepts entwined in one, regarding God’s immediate answer to our prayer.

“How shall we know when our prayers are answered? Hannah knew it by peace after prayer.”

AND…

“Patience to wait on God until the vision speaks is also an answer.”

One is the provision of peace, a soul-kind-of-knowing without understanding, and the other is the provision of patience, which is faith enough to wait as long as required for the promise to be delivered.

Both patience and peace are attainments. This is how we know our prayers are heard and answered. God’s answer to our prayers is nothing truly about ‘yes’ and ‘no’ as if God’s Word is to be like ours, simply our ‘yes’ being yes, and our ‘no’, no.[1] Perhaps God doesn’t even communicate on normal human terms, but responds to our groans, and from groans come His glory.[2] But God gives us something tangible, if that can be said spiritually, as we pray in faith, and in the humility of surrender.

Peace comes as an answer to a prayer prayed faithfully, in trust that God is able, and, if He wills it, He will bring our soul-stated wishes — which we may have no iota of an idea about until He reveals them — to pass.

Patience is that incredible tenacity that makes a trial seem easier than it should be; a grace given to us to endure the trial we couldn’t imagine persisting through in our own strength. God proves real and present because of the power we experience that is beyond us. And that is the fruit of prayer.

God answers prayers powerfully through His provision of peace and patience. Such attainments mean we can leave what we prayed for to Him.

How utterly good God is that He answers our prayers in the immediate sense by giving us patience and peace.

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[1] Matthew 5:33-37.

[2] Romans 8:18-30.

Supporting your church through change you disagree with

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THE DECISION’S been made, you’ve clearly not been consulted, but now you’re being ‘informed’ (i.e. told what you’re to do — support the church through change). The die is cast. The stage is set. Nothing will change the course chosen. Is this situation familiar to you?

No matter how many are for the change occurring, it feels like the leadership is stubbornly forging ahead despite the probability of casualties and collateral damage. Like in a lottery competition, the ‘judges’ have had their say and no correspondence will be entered into.

You’re left in a precarious situation. What do you think and how do you respond?

I’ve experienced this first-hand. In fact, I’ve been in situations where I felt on all sides of the conundrum of change simultaneously, seeing its impact yet its potential at one and the same time. And, I have to say this, I’ve seen what it does to a church when there wasn’t full support for change. And unfortunately — not that I saw it at the time, mind you — but I’ve been part of opposition. Usually because of my concern over the treatment of people. At times like this I’ve seen the enemy have more of his way than he ever ought to, and the enemy ought never have his way when it concerns the church. Yet, who is the church made up of? Humans, broken, wounded, sordid, prideful, ambitious, and easy-to-hurt humanity.

Anyone has the capacity to be used by the enemy — all sides of any argument — and the mark of the enemy in terms of church is division.

What if your church stood united or fell divided based solely on your call — on your decision? Because that is the reality. Stand united and Jesus’ church thrives. Engage in sedition and at least a portion of the church falls. Its name is discredited. Its potential is limited. It falls far short of Christ’s glory.

When we choose to support our church through change we don’t agree with, we trust God at a higher level than what we were previously capable. We trust God enough to journey maturely through ongoing dissonance. And we can only do that when we love His church more than our own or others’ agendas.

Love God and we love His church. Love the church and we love God. The two are synonymous.

We’re allowed to disagree with our church leadership provided they have our support, and, provided there is the maturity in leadership to accept and even embrace disagreement, all should be well.

Church leadership should spare space for diversity of viewpoint, but the membership ought also to stand faithfully behind its leaders. Leaders who lead humbly are easier to trust.

Church leadership deserves and requires our trust. But church leadership serves the people of God as well as God.

It does help if church leadership understand how powerless it can feel to be on the receiving end of change.

Only ever a moment away from the revelation of who I am

FOLLOWING a woman out of the shopping mall and entering a pedestrian crossing behind her I hear her say, “thanks for stopping, buddy!” A person had just passed over the crossing and should have stopped, but didn’t.

Suddenly God shows me a vision of when I was that driver, when, through a moment of inattention, I failed to stop when I should have — nothing hazardous, sure, but anything other than polite and respectful. Times when I have been in a hurry.

In that moment, God showed me who I am, who she is, and who that anonymous driver is — sinners who judge others for the very things we ourselves do!

We, in our humanity, are destined for conflict, because we demand rights for ourselves that we’re not willing to give all the time to others. Sheer madness. Do for me that which I reserve the right not to do for you. No wonder the world is in such disarray.

I thanked God for the instantaneousness of the revelation He gave me, so I was prevented from leering at this other guy. Whether the faux pas was intentional or not, the failure to stop for a pedestrian was simply a reminder of what we’re all capable of; and what so many of us have either done or will do in future. How could I judge him?

This situation reminded me of how important following God is. We’re ruined without His standard to strive for. Even as followers we so frequently get it wrong. Especially as His followers we’re enabled to see our folly and, hopefully, repent of it.

In a world of ‘Do for me that which I reserve the right not to do for you’, we have the choice to do for others as we would wish them to do for us, without requiring them to return the favour.

The best gift God gives, anytime, is His revelation of the truth of who we are; sinners in need of the moment’s saving. We need His revelation if our relationships are to work.

2017, how have you treated me?

ANNUS horribilis: the horrible year. That was 2016 apparently, given the amount of celebrities who died. Queen Elizabeth II hailed 1992 as annus horribilis.

2016 was personally my most difficult year yet (eclipsing even 2003, and earlier 1984), and, I think because of my recent experience, I’m sensitive to those who have had a lamentable 2017. I’ve heard a few people say their 2017 has been an annus horribilis.

How has 2017 treated you?

Perhaps it was a year where great change was thrust upon you, where one massive life change brought with it a ripple of uncertainty. Maybe the year consolidated the perception within you of disappointment and heartache. Possibly the year was great; hopes were exceeded, and a breakthrough moment came to define your life. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to write home about — though I doubt it.

Years are a neat way of categorising our time on earth. Life is short, yet the years are long, which is a paradox that the mysteries of life never quite explain.

If 2017 was an especially tough year, what did you learn, and what are you going to do about it in 2018? Could it be that notwithstanding how tough the year’s been, God has equipped you with confidence because He has shown you your endurance?

Will next year bear any fruit from what was sown this year? I know my 2017 did not realise some of the hopes I had even for 2016, yet I know unequivocally that I’m on a good path. I’m yet reminded of those heroes of the faith in Hebrews chapter 11 who, though they were faithful, died before the Promise was realised in their lives (verse 13).

Now is the time to take a moment to reflect over poignant questions. Now is the time to make peace with the past so we may look forward with hope for a joyous present and future.

Grieving exchanges honesty for healing

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DO it now or do it later, either way the work of grieving just must be done. That’s what I’ve heard so many times.

The transaction involved in grieving a loss is honesty given for the receipt of healing. Honesty is exchanged for, and is prerequisite to, healing. In grief, be real.

The opposite transaction is to delay grieving through denial. To not be honest about it. To go out of our way to avoid its confronting reality. To turn from how life is.

Honesty, in the final analysis, is a wisdom for life, and a grace from God, that cannot be discounted. The capacity to be honest, to ply the courage to grieve our losses, is a gift, for those who are honest often say they can do little else. When honesty can be the only way, we simply must praise God — He made us in such a way as to inherit the wisdom of faithfulness. Not everyone enjoys the gift, but all can ask for it, and God always grants wisdom when we ask sincerely.

Honesty can certainly make things harder initially. It’s often a risk to trust. Especially where others are concerned. Honesty requires courage, which in this case is faith.

Grieving is certainly an up-and-down journey where sudden unpredictable plummets into the pit of an abyss become the norm. Every single time we’re blindsided we need to try to remember that even though the pain is interminably tormenting it is normal. The courage that calls us to accept this blesses us. We’re being honest, and strength is being added, even if it feels we’ve never been weaker.

God goes throughout our whole lives hoping to get our attention. And with grief our self-sufficiency is stalled. When we finally discover our power is insufficient, we turn to Him and find His power was always enough. Then honesty is all we can do.

In every recovery, honesty is the forerunner to healing. God repays our humility to honour the truth, adding within our plight His divine help. It’s always enough.

A love so great that great be our desire to love

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JESUS is what love is all about. He cut through every boundary of stuffy selfish bureaucracy to establish an everlasting way to love on earth.

The King came in Jesus, and the Kingdom came in Jesus. The King came and so did the Kingdom in love.

Jesus was a love so great he healed at the risk of riling the ruling Jews going against their legalistic application of Sabbath. He overturned cultural norms and welcomed children, talked with women, touched lepers, and spent time with the despised. He chastised the ruling classes for their oppression of foreigners, widows, and orphans. He told stories that sent shockwaves through the culture by revealing to the culture how corrupt the culture had become. Ultimately, Jesus was a love so great that he ran with it headlong into crucifixion; the vitriolic pride of the powerful had been piqued. Love often gets the raw end of the deal in this world and in Jesus’ case love got him killed.

His was a love so great it resounded against his prevailing culture. He routinely put others first. He regularly said and did things that none of us would do.

His is the perfect standard of love.

But Jesus’ love — a love so great — compels us to greatly desire to love like he did. We fall short of it even in the doing it, but, as we greatly desire to love like he did, we resolve to continue to keep our love on. And God shows us what we can achieve is a comparative lot.

Love is visibly positive, patiently kind, not ever threatened and non-threatening, embodying faith and hope. It believes for the best and endures when tested.

Love is too high a standard for any human being to meet with consistency, but we strive for it because we love our Saviour.

Tenderness at a child’s rebuke

The book we read, by a local author

AS I read a story to my son during his bedtime routine, I received a sharp albeit respectful rebuke. All I had said was the street, “Riverbank Close.” It did happen to be “Riverbank Rise,” so he simply said, “Riverbank Rise!” to which I said, “Yes, that’s what I said,” not thinking. “No,” he said, “you said Riverbank Close!” “Yes,” I said, having given it further thought, “you’re right, I did get it wrong.” There was no gloating in him as he heard me say that, just the body language of thankfulness that he had been heard.

I stood corrected. I granted him the fact that he was right and promptly acknowledged it.

There have been times when, as a father, I would have said, “Now, that’s enough of that, remember who is Dad (i.e. the boss… and the boss is never wrong)!” Times when my pride has risen up and demanded ‘respect’.

And how just would that have been had that happened? How many times have we cut our children off simply because they were right, yet we couldn’t accept their letting us know? How many times has pride won the order of the day, only for the children to have to wear the sting of injustice again? Sure, it’s happened to us all and, if we’re parents, we’ve all probably executed those same injustices.

A parent engages in powerful parenting when they overturn power structures in the execution of justice against themselves to advance truth; to say we’re sorry when we ought to be; to give the benefit of the doubt; to elevate truth above our ‘right’ to misuse our power.

In the situation above, how could it be fair other than to acknowledge he was right and I was wrong? It cost nothing to be honest, and in being honest I was able to express my gratitude for having been corrected.

Children learn justice best through their experience of it in their own homes.

Words and the weight they carry

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Words carry the power of death or life, cursing or blessing. 
Words are powerful. 
Choose them wisely. 
Account for them.
Reflect and, where necessary, repent.

Stories, too, are powerful.
Words strung together create stories.
Stories curse or bless, breathe life or death.
We have stories about ourselves AND others.

With our words and our stories, we’re executing a destiny.
Protect people, don’t persecute them, with words.

Prophesy God’s Word over yourself.
He is a marvellous promise keeper.

Find God’s words that fit nicely, and adopt them as His words for you.

Drink that Living Water.
Eat that Bread.
Such is drink and food for life and blessing.

***

Words are truly insidious. We speak them with such freedom, but freedom can have illogical lack of restraint. String the same four or five words together often enough and, there, you have a story.

The reason I write these things is more for the negative than for the positive. It’s why I write death before life, cursing before blessing. It’s because we more routinely say what we say without first checking it for validity, because we can, because we are undisciplined, because we cannot tame our tongue (See James 3).

Stories such as “I’m no good at [fill in the blank],” or “I hate such-and-such a group or ideology,” or “What you think means less than what I think, because I think so.”

We much more rarely hear of stories that promote others in a positive light. No, negative words and stories are used as the default way of communicating damaging beliefs we have.

When we have the option of life — to speak words of breath and hope — why would we speak words of any other kind?