Keeping up with the counterfeits

It's just too confusing. There are too many. Too many false gospels. Too many inferior products. Too many knock-offs and posers. Too many choices.

I love the illustration (and maybe one of my friends working in the government can verify this for me) of how the law enforcement personnel who track down counterfeit money do not bother to study every possible tweaking of the US dollar bill. How could they? God gave mankind boundless creativity, which fallen humans (me, us) may employ to bend and twist the truth in infinite directions. And the slightest bend or twist, if followed along its course, can project us far from the original. Rather, those personnel study and pour over and memorize and engrave in their minds the real thing. The official authoritative dollar bill, printed by the US government and bearing its seal, which alone has worth (um, a little at least...sigh).

What is my job as parent? What is our job as citizen, pastor, Bible study leader, friend? To exhaust myself with putting out endless fires, to be constantly shouting at my children for doing the wrong thing, to contort our minds with situational ethics til we don't know which end is up? To make a rule for every circumstance, to come out dogmatically on every issue based on my own understanding of what's right at that moment, to declare my soapbox passions clouded by reactions to my upbringing or past?

Or is it to study and pour over and engrave the Real Thing, God's revealed Word--the written expression of His decrees, stipulations, opinions, tastes, and ways of thinking and acting--into the pathways of our minds. To anchor our minds and hearts to the Rock of truth, so we won't be treading water adrift, sinking, grasping, clinging to anything that floats and pulling it down with us. To be so fixed on the gold standard that every aberrant religion, philosophy, message, and agenda immediately looks as fake and bankrupt as it is.

This is security. This is sanity. This is transformation (Romans 12:2).

A Time for Grief, and Gratefulness

June 9. I've gone back and forth on whether to post this on facebook and thereby "publicize" it. A big part of me wants to stay on the anonymous sidelines and keep a safe distance from the whole IBLP scandal, especially since it may have legal implications. But I keep coming back to the unshakable feeling in my heart that compelled me to write it in the first place. I have read only a few blog posts written by others in response to the scandal, but each has concerned and galvanized me. I want to give a voice to the many friends whom, I suspect, feel as I do. It's ok to be deeply disturbed by the revelation of things that  happened right under our noses while we worked with the ministry, and yet still be grateful for God's sovereignty in leading us to work there. It's ok to acknowledge the baggage we picked up there (in my case, legalism and false expectations of God/life that required at least two years of "deprogramming" in the "real world," and also the seeds of chronic fatigue that I now battle every day), and yet at the same time acknowledge the manifold good things that are still blessing our lives today (friendships, skills and lessons learned, lots of truly biblical training and knowledge of the Bible, a love for hymns and how they sounded in four-part harmony by a roomful of young voices, a love for serving and encouraging others, tools for teaching our children including Scripture memory and character qualities, photo albums of an incredibly happy Mommy surrounded by happy friends doing fun and silly things that my kids now look through...and the list goes on). It's ok to shun the bad and embrace the good. In fact, we must. Because in also shunning the good, we may be shunning God. So here it is...

I've written several blog posts in my head over the last few weeks since first reading the stories on Recovering Grace that led to Bill Gothard's resignation. It has been quite a journey, processing each piece of new information and what it means for past and present. Passing through many different emotions and states of mind: mild skepticism, speechless trembling acceptance of indisputable facts, preoccupation and sadness ("Mommy, why are you sad?"), revisiting questions I thought I'd put to rest--with now many more questions raised, sweet fellowship and like-mindedness when finally I talked to a couple friends and then family, more sadness when action was taken and Mr. Gothard eventually resigned and yet joy because this was the first step in repentance and restoration, and a partial sense of closure and satisfaction knowing that God was at work.

But this is the blog post that demands to be written. It won't let me go. And so to tame the swirling thoughts I will write them down, and hope that maybe someone can benefit by them.

These are the good things God is doing in my heart through this ordeal. Throughout, I've been thinking of my friends and how we each have our own private journeys in dealing with these...revelations. Private, because each person has to review his own story and decide what to do with this information, but also because now we are separated and scattered across the globe. Oh how I've wished we could all sit around the fire in the Staff Center (or, perhaps somewhere else now) and quietly talk through our feelings, questions, and insights. Here are some of the things I would share...

• It's a good time for soul-searching. Here I am as a mother of young children and five years into marriage. I need to make sure that what I believe and speak and tell my children is true and thoroughly Biblical. Let alone how I relate to my husband. I've been thinking and asking God to show me what I believe that is out of line with His Word. 

• It's been good to examine my own parenting. Am I enforcing personal preferences as law? Is it actually something wrong my daughters are doing, or does it just annoy me? In what areas am I being a hypocrite? Do I have one set of instructions for my kids, and a different set for myself? Do I think I am "above the law" in any way?

• It's given me an acute awareness of the need for God's protection and my protection of our little girls. The other day at a MOPS playdate, for a few minutes I had left the room where my oldest daughter was playing near two boys her age. She came upstairs and I realized she was upset and gently probed her with questions to find out what had happened. The boys had ganged up on her and were hitting her with large stuffed animals. That was all, thank goodness, but I made sure to make sure that was all. I would not have thought to do that before, nor would I have been so sensitive to her feelings. And now I'll make doubly sure not to leave her for a second, if I can, in a basement with other children and no adult that I trust. (Now to get the twins to cooperate with that plan. :) ) Also I have been praying  more often and more fervently for God's protection of our daughters, body, soul, and spirit. Ever since I graduated from a medium-sized Christian high school and realized I was the only girl in my class not to have even dated anyone thus far, I knew God and the angels were working overtime to protect me where men were concerned, and I can think of no other reason than my parents' prayers. So that gives added impetus to my prayers for our daughters, in this "crooked and perverse generation."

• I've been overwhelmed with gratefulness for God's sovereign leading in my life and specifically for the time I got to spend at HQ ("in Chicago" I now say, since "Headquarters" means nothing to those on the "outside.") This gratefulness is uncanny and came unbidden as I plodded through this journey, and can only be explained as a gift from God. I have countless good memories from my almost four years spent working and living there, and I really wouldn't trade them for anything. Reading back over my journals from those days, I am amazed at my closeness to God and my unbounded joy. No one can take from me my memories, my friendships (with some of the most amazing people I've ever met, with whom I had incredible fellowship few realize this side of heaven), and all the truths, skills, and lessons I learned. No one can take those from me, and I refuse to let them try. We all want someone to blame for our lives not going the way we'd planned. But we'll only make matters worse by blaming man for this God-sized problem we all struggle with. Dealing with God about the past and present of our lives, wrestling with Him, even being angry at Him in an honest yet teachable way, is far more productive than indulging in self-pity, nursing a victim mentality, or blaming other people. I have to take responsibility for the choices I made (like staying at HQ as long as I did, submitting to its leadership, working the hours I worked, not going to college, etc), deal with God about them, and move on, or I will never be free. In fact I will be more enslaved than ever, bound to the cult of the flesh.

• I've also been feeling grateful for God's work in my life, through the Institute and afterward. Of course, without the afterward I might not be as grateful. ;) But God routinely uses broken vessels (well, what else does He have to use?). In fact, that's what He's chosen and ordained to work through. Not to minimize Mr. Gothard's sin and hypocrisy one iota, but we are all sinners and hypocrites, and we're lucky God uses any of us to advance His kingdom and glorify Himself. The fact is, God chose to do a lot of good in my life and teach me a lot of things through Mr. Gothard (and the many wise people around him). Of course, then He led me on to be taught by other people, to help me rediscover true grace, and to get to work for and sit under a man who has a better handle on the subject than anyone else I've ever encountered. I drank it in! Sunday after Sunday I sat there stunned in my pew. And certainly, I'd never then nor now been so grateful for grace and the true gospel of Jesus Christ!

• I'm also grateful for my parents who have always "stood alone" for what they believed God was calling them to do, well before my family joined the Institute. (By the way, we joined the year I graduated from high school, so it was completely my choice to postpone college and join ATI with my family. I realize this puts me in a different category than those who grew up in the program.) It was their commitment to Christ and taking Him at His Word, and a desire to follow Him no matter what the cost, that drew them to the Institute, as with so many. 

I do have one word of caution for my friends and others who were involved with the Institute. I'm not on Facebook much, but I have detected an attitude of disdain for Mr. Gothard (not just on FB), a superiority, and that concerns me. Have we been rescued from judgmentalism and introduced to grace, only to fall back into judging, and toward one who needs grace the most? We who idolized Mr. Gothard, are we now to swing to the other unhealthy extreme of disgust? Mr. Gothard is now an old man, and he will answer to God for how he spent his life. But we are young (well, kind of), and how we respond to this will help shape the person we are becoming, the person we will be when we are old. I pray that I and all of us respond as God would have us to, with humility, soberness of mind, "looking to ourselves lest we too be tempted." Perhaps God is looking even more closely at our response than at Mr. Gothard's. Now that's a scary thought. Not that I want to set up myself as superior either, please God! no more of that. But I plead with all of us to be "checking our hearts through this whole thing," as one friend so aptly expressed to me by email the other day.

In that same email, the friend expressed my own thoughts so well: "We did our sacrifice to the Lord and not unto Bill so we don't regret or have any bitterness toward him. I only wish that there had been more discernment on my part." Friends and family have helped me so much by having a humble attitude and putting into words my own struggling thoughts. And that's been my goal as well in writing this blog post. Help us, Lord Jesus...in this as in all things, we need YOU!

I wrote this a few weeks ago and then let it sit for a bit to make sure it wasn't written in haste and to let God bring anything else to mind or lead me to take something out, etc. With much love and affection to all my former-ATI brothers and sisters out there!! I realize we all have different experiences and responses, but this is mine.

Re the photos, these were some of the few that had only me in them and that's why I chose them...I didn't want to "incriminate" anyone else. ; )

A Beautifully Messy Moment

The theme for MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) this year is "A Beautiful Mess: Embracing Your Story." And my particular MOPS group gives a prize each month to the mom with the best messy story. Maybe I'll win with this one!:

So I'm getting the twins ready for bed tonight in their room, like we do every night, and halfway through getting all the layers of cold-weather pj's on, Evelyn choked, coughed, and then threw up a decent portion of smoothie and white bean chili from supper. On the carpet, herself, the twin breastfeeding pillow that's only been used as a giant donut to jump on and sit in (and which I was hoping to sell, oh well), and into my cupped hands. I ran toward the bathroom, struggling to turn the doorknob on the closed door with a handful of vomit (sorry, but you asked for a messy story), and yelling for Steve to come upstairs. Which he did in lightening speed, since we used to do this all the time when Annelise was spitting up large portions regularly. With a roll of paper towels of course.

He let all the kids jump on the guest bed in Cora's room while I cleaned up the carpet in the other room. We have this special kit that takes any stain out, but that carpet may still be green in the morning and require another round. Finally I went into the room full of jumping, squealing little girls and a watchful daddy looking on, making sure no one fell off the bed. I finished getting them dressed and they played a little more. Then I offhand said to Steve, "Could you go get the sleep sacks and humidifier....ahhhh!!! ahhhh!!! the humidifier..." We were both thinking the same thing as he raced lightening speed back down the stairs.

You see, last winter when we had to fill up a million humidifiers every night for the kids' rooms (at a time when that was the last thing we had time for), Steve had the brilliant idea to rig up a hose that attached to the spigot on the fridge (where we get filtered water) and ran down into the humidifier basin, and that way it was hands-free and you could, say, do the dishes while it filled up, keeping an eye on it all the while lest it overflow. This really was brilliant, and sure beat standing at our slow fridge spigot, filling up glass after glass, and pouring each gingerly into the humidifier, usually spilling some.

Of course right before Evie had spit up, I had asked him to fill up the humidifier for her room, and of course he left the water running when he lighteninged upstairs (with little lightening at his heels).

My fears were confirmed as Annelise called up the stairs, "There's a lake in the kitchen."

Daddy mopped it up while Mommy put both twins to bed. When I came down, he was in the basement. A bad sign. Sure enough the lake had replicated itself on the floor below, but much smaller thankfully. When I asked if he'd pulled out the fridge yet, he said no. Oh good, I said, because months ago a bottle of wine rolled off the top of the fridge and got stuck behind it. And that's when God's mercy was impressed upon me. One mess averted, at least! That would have been bad.

We got all the snacks and recipes and spices racks off the top of the fridge and I climbed on top (that was fun! after dusting it of course) and retrieved the bottle of wine...before we pulled the fridge out. It was pretty nasty under the fridge too (think vitamins that had rolled under and goodness knows what else, soaked), and probably needed to be cleaned out anyway. So now we have a mopped kitchen floor and a clean fridge, top and bottom, and one more good story to tell. I think we'll have another laugh, another sigh, and then pour ourselves a glass of wine! (if only we drank...so, filtered water?)

We're still alive...amazing!

Perhaps the biggest blessing in disguise in dealing with sickness is that it recalibrates your gratefulness gauge. Once the kiddos start to get even the tiniest bit better, and you can see the light at the end of the tunnel (a speck, now bigger), your mourning turns to dancing. Wow, I'm wiping noses every six minutes now instead of every five. Think of how much extra time I'll have when these little noses finally dry up (right!). Wow, we might actually get to emerge from the house in a few days, and drive somewhere! If the car still starts. Wow, I might get to have a kid-less conversation with my husband some evening in the near future, because he might start going to bed a little later than 8:30 (only to lie there for hours because his biological clock is all messed up, poor nocturnal sickie-soothing hero of mine). Wait, biological clock, is that the right term? LOL. Help me somebody, my brainwaves are flat-lining.

Anyway, the cycle with sickness in my experience seems to be firstly, what, they're sick again? and of course on the one week/weekend we had a bunch of fun things planned; secondly, man, these poor sweet little bodies are really suffering, I'll do anything to help them; and thirdly, huh, (don't get your hopes up but) they seem to be getting better. Maybe I can come up for air just a little and...oh wow, the earth is still spinning. The calendar is still clipping along (with parental anniversaries looming, eek). And if I run to catch up, maybe I can jump back on the event merry-go-round...well, it will have to slow down a little first.

Guess we'll lose the germies in a few days. But hopefully not the gratefulness germ. (I think this is cheesy but I'm not sure because my cheesy gauge has not been recalibrated yet. I'll need a little more sleep for that first.)

...

Body clock! Popped into my head unsolicited at 5:00 am this morning as I was trying to go back to sleep. Early morning rendezvous with teething babies are good for something (besides snuggling). I don't trust myself to comment on the biological clock right now.

Cora the Climber

Three bloggable memories of today:

Annelise emerged from her room time this afternoon in a big bear hug with numerous stuffed animals, and made it down the stairs with them amid my emphatic whispers (twins sleeping) of caution. "I brought down all my animals to share them with my baby sisters" she proudly announced. I was touched.

We had just come in from outside and I was getting supper ready in the kitchen. I heard little hands on the piano keys, banging away, and knew it was only the twins as Annelise was in the family room. Then the banging intensified and my mom-brain (the part that notices when things are "too quiet" or in this case, too loud) wondered how four little hands were hitting that many keys. I walked into the living room and Cora the Climber (egged on by Evelyn the Climber, of course) was on her hands and knees...up ON TOP of the keyboard! Mom instinct took over and I got her down as soon as I could, but immediately after wished I'd run for the camera first. I tucked the piano bench farther under the piano as a preventative measure, and if they figure out how to pull it out and use it as a step stool again...I'll know they're ready for lessons!

I put Annelise to bed tonight because she wanted me to and I saw the pile of dishes still to be done. After we read her Bible story about "We love because He first loved us" and her Berenstain bears story, I asked if she wanted to pray and as usual, she didn't. So I prayed and included, "Dear Lord, help Annelise to love You with all her heart." Immediately she broke in with, "I do love...God. I love You, God." Because He first loved us.

Little fingers, little mouths, big laughter

I've GOT to start writing this stuff down. I don't want to lose anything of these precious little years. I think I'll remember everything, but I've already forgotten so much. Lord, I hope You keep the heavenly camcorder rolling (with some merciful editings along the way)!

Memories from the day, as I wind down for bedtime (usually I'm winding up to get everything done, but that's another story):

The twins' little fingers picking the little basil strips off their TBM salad tonight at supper to eat the cheese.

Annelise, excited for weeks about her first dentist appointment, announcing to our friends at lunch that she was going to the dentist today, asking in the waiting room over and over again when they were going to call us back...and then clamming up in the chair and requiring coaxing and promise of treats for the dentist to slide his instruments into her mouth and get in a poke here, a brush there. Poor Dental Ben.

Laughter from the twins as I "danced" around the house with one on each hip. What a workout!

Signs of growing up

This morning I came downstairs just after 8:00 to be greeted by a little girl, a big smile, a "good morning, Mommy," and a scribble on a piece of paper. She's been getting out of bed by herself in the morning, but usually to say "get up, Daddy" in a half whisper right in his face (how did I know the side of the bed farthest from the door would be the right one to choose?!). Once she came downstairs and turned on the TV by herself, but the Roku was set on Steve's tech channel so she came up to ask for help finding Mr Rodgers, Little Bear, Mickey, or Dora, whichever it was that morning. But I think this is the first time she'd come downstairs and drawn a picture. Who knows how long she was down here. (And I don't even care since both Steve and I got to sleep in!)

This evening, I was upstairs giving the twins a bath and had asked Steve to put a new trash bag in their diaper pail. He had forgotten to bring one up, and I was asking him about it again. Next thing we know, a little girl is coming back up the stairs with a white drawstring Costco trash bag in her hands. She had simply overheard us and been the "helper" that she really is so good at being. I think she may have Steve's gift of service. I told her that was "initiative," so maybe she'll greet me tomorrow morning with a new vocabulary word...and have dusted and vacuumed the house! Or not. Maybe in a few years.