"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." - Ephesians 4:29
My husband read this beautiful verse in a church staff meeting today. He read it slowly, pausing to emphasize each phrase. That's how the words "according to their needs" stuck out so profoundly.
I usually have a lot I could say. (Most women do.)
I often have a lot of helpful things to say.
But, to say helpful things...at the right time...in order to meet someone else's needs? That is the gift I want to be able to give, again and again, to everyone around me.
And so we did that, right there in staff meeting today. We went around the room and shared what we admired, respected, and appreciated in each staff member.
And it was amazing.
The entire atmosphere of the room changed. We entered a slightly tired and more than slightly overworked group of people, and we left with smiles on our faces and a spring in the step.
Because needs were met. The deep needs that everyone has. The need for someone else to notice what you do and call it important. The need to be appreciated. The need to feel like you're a part of a community who values you as a person and would miss you if you weren't around.
And I've thought about it all day. How easy it was, really, and yet how hard. Hard to speak about the impact someone's had on your life when they're right there across the table from you, looking you in the eye. Harder still to be spoken to and told how special you are in someone's life without feeling the need to deflect it or make a joke.
And why should it be so hard? Why doesn't it come naturally to build up other people, every day, all the time? Why doesn't it come naturally to allow ourselves to be built up by another person's words?
And why should it be that hard when gossip and sarcasm come so easily?
This last question must be answered, in every heart where Christ resides. And not a passing, flippant answer should be given. It must be wrestled with it until victory is won, with all the poisonous talons of the enemy rooted out and cast aside. It must be dealt with soundly until Ephesians 4:29 becomes the standard of all thought and every word.
"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."
May it be so, Lord. May it be so in me.
First Day of School Blessings (Re-Post)
Friday, August 24, 2012
Author's Note: Of all the blog posts on Treasure the Ordinary, this one post has had more continuous visits than any other, a testament to the desire of parents to partner with what the Lord is doing to bless their children. As a new school year begins, may you find joy in sending out the birds from your nests, sheltered by the God who loves them even more than you do.
All the backpacks are lined up by the front door. The first day of school clothes are waiting on their hangers. The crayons are pointed and unbroken.
My birds are asleep in the nest, ready to fly away tomorrow. And it's this hour that a Mama kneels and prays. She prays that the small wings will be strong as they carry her precious ones into a world not always hospitable to young things. She prays that His breath will blow, lifting them higher, above the reach of that which would entangle. And she prays that they will fly safely home again.
Mama bird blessings:
Many thanks to Melba Burk, who taught me the power of blessing.
All the backpacks are lined up by the front door. The first day of school clothes are waiting on their hangers. The crayons are pointed and unbroken.
My birds are asleep in the nest, ready to fly away tomorrow. And it's this hour that a Mama kneels and prays. She prays that the small wings will be strong as they carry her precious ones into a world not always hospitable to young things. She prays that His breath will blow, lifting them higher, above the reach of that which would entangle. And she prays that they will fly safely home again.
Mama bird blessings:
- I Bless You with courage. (Joshua 1:3-9)
- I Bless You with the Father's protection. (Ps. 91)
- I Bless You with a Godly child’s heart that respects and honors his parents and authority.
- I Bless You with the Holy Spirit’s marking your life so that you stand out in a crowd.
- I Bless You with the favor of God on your life so that others want to go out of their way to do you good.
- I Bless You that people speak to you with kindness and honor.
- I Bless You with confidence in your looks and abilities: you will like who God made you to be.
- I Bless You with strategies of the Lord for your future.
- I Bless You with purity in thought, speech, and action.
- I Bless You with confidence and a complete lack of fear of man.
- I Bless You with the ability to be a good friend.
- I Bless You with the ability to be grieved by sin and the desire to make all things right with the Father.
- I Bless You with truthful lips.
- I Bless You with the ability to honor those around you, even when it costs you.
- I Bless You with the knowledge that you are a joy to your parents and that they are proud of you.
- I Bless You with the knowledge of the Father’s unconditional love for you and your parents’ unconditional love for you.
- I Bless You with the desire to pray at all times, with all kinds of prayers.
- I Bless You with the spirit of a warrior, a Godly warrior.
- I Bless You to be a blessing to everyone you meet.
Many thanks to Melba Burk, who taught me the power of blessing.
A Dream Fulfilled
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
All my life, I've dreamed of owning a cottage nestled into a grove of beautiful trees--aspen trees, with a weeping willow thrown in for artistic measure. And a stream running behind it, and an arbor leading into my flower garden. The cottage would be a creamy yellow, with stone and ivy and a picket fence and flower baskets and...
And I live in West Texas.
It's where we're supposed to be, and I don't begrudge it for a moment. But, I do occasionally peruse pictures on Pinterest of the perfect cottage and sigh. A sigh for a dream that seems impossibly out of reach among mesquite trees and cotton fields.
And there are so many other dreams. Bigger dreams. Dreams that my heart still races after, even after the years have come and gone. Even after the dreams have grown past the newborn stage, marched right through the teenage angst, and are now still seemingly unfulfilled as they approach middle-age.
New dreams are thrilling, because anything seems possible when a dream is born. But, old dreams can hurt when "hope deferred makes the heart sick." (Proverbs 13:12)
And that's why there are tears in my eyes as I pore over paint samples this week.
In honor of our tenth year of pastoral ministry in our city, our church has paid to have our house painted. It's something we couldn't have done on our own. A gift so large, it awakened a dream.
For I hold in my hand a paint sample titled simply, "Cream Yellow."
And as I sit in my front yard and picture what my home will look like when it's painted, I have to laugh outloud at how good my Father is. To answer dreams.
For my stucco house will be a creamy yellow-- nestled in a grove of pecan trees, with a pine thrown in for artistic measure. And a dry creek running behind it, with an arbor set into my picket fence leading to my salsa garden and a zipline...
A dream realized. Maybe a little different. Maybe even better.
And I live in West Texas.
It's where we're supposed to be, and I don't begrudge it for a moment. But, I do occasionally peruse pictures on Pinterest of the perfect cottage and sigh. A sigh for a dream that seems impossibly out of reach among mesquite trees and cotton fields.
And there are so many other dreams. Bigger dreams. Dreams that my heart still races after, even after the years have come and gone. Even after the dreams have grown past the newborn stage, marched right through the teenage angst, and are now still seemingly unfulfilled as they approach middle-age.
New dreams are thrilling, because anything seems possible when a dream is born. But, old dreams can hurt when "hope deferred makes the heart sick." (Proverbs 13:12)
And that's why there are tears in my eyes as I pore over paint samples this week.
In honor of our tenth year of pastoral ministry in our city, our church has paid to have our house painted. It's something we couldn't have done on our own. A gift so large, it awakened a dream.
For I hold in my hand a paint sample titled simply, "Cream Yellow."
And as I sit in my front yard and picture what my home will look like when it's painted, I have to laugh outloud at how good my Father is. To answer dreams.
For my stucco house will be a creamy yellow-- nestled in a grove of pecan trees, with a pine thrown in for artistic measure. And a dry creek running behind it, with an arbor set into my picket fence leading to my salsa garden and a zipline...
A dream realized. Maybe a little different. Maybe even better.
True Sacrifice
Monday, August 13, 2012
One son came to me a month or so ago, asking me to intervene. He had asked his brother how he could bless him and "fill his love tank," a practice we encourage in our family. His brother had answered, "Give me all your wii time." Electronics are closely monitored in our house, so each child has forty-five minutes a day. His brother was asking for a sacrifice, indeed.
He wanted me to talk to his brother, tell him he needed to ask for something else. I asked him what he wished his brother had said would be a blessing.
"I don't know. A hug or something." And then, after a pause. "I really just wanted him to ask me the question back."
I chuckled pretty good over that one. "Honey, I can't do that. If you don't want to give your brother your wii time, you don't have to. But, the whole point of this exercise in love is that you're choosing to do for the other person what would bless them, with no strings attached."
I smiled a few minutes later when he gave his brother all his wii time.
And then, weeks later, it was his brother's turn to come to me. He wanted my advice on what to get the giver of the wii time for his birthday. When he listed all the things he was thinking of purchasing, I gently pointed out that every single one of them were things that he himself was wanting, and nothing that had been on his brother's wish list.
"Do you think you might not be shopping for your brother here, after all, but really shopping for yourself instead?" My question hung in the air between us.
Within a couple of hours, he had asked me to take him to the sporting good store. He, the boy who has no interest in playing football, walked out with a pair of expensive football gloves to be wrapped up in birthday paper. It wasn't hard at all to give him a hug and tell him how proud I was of his gift-giving, both of us knowing the sacrifice involved with the hard-earned money left inside on the counter.
Two brothers who genuinely love each other, but still have to learn what it means to put another's needs above their own. And not just once, but over and over again.
What an important lesson to learn. For without it, how will a marriage one day work? How will parenting work?
Because to love very often means to sacrifice.
But, as I watch the growing respect and friendship between these two brothers, I'm reminded of how much sacrificial love is worth.
Everything.
He wanted me to talk to his brother, tell him he needed to ask for something else. I asked him what he wished his brother had said would be a blessing.
"I don't know. A hug or something." And then, after a pause. "I really just wanted him to ask me the question back."
I chuckled pretty good over that one. "Honey, I can't do that. If you don't want to give your brother your wii time, you don't have to. But, the whole point of this exercise in love is that you're choosing to do for the other person what would bless them, with no strings attached."
I smiled a few minutes later when he gave his brother all his wii time.
And then, weeks later, it was his brother's turn to come to me. He wanted my advice on what to get the giver of the wii time for his birthday. When he listed all the things he was thinking of purchasing, I gently pointed out that every single one of them were things that he himself was wanting, and nothing that had been on his brother's wish list.
"Do you think you might not be shopping for your brother here, after all, but really shopping for yourself instead?" My question hung in the air between us.
Within a couple of hours, he had asked me to take him to the sporting good store. He, the boy who has no interest in playing football, walked out with a pair of expensive football gloves to be wrapped up in birthday paper. It wasn't hard at all to give him a hug and tell him how proud I was of his gift-giving, both of us knowing the sacrifice involved with the hard-earned money left inside on the counter.
Two brothers who genuinely love each other, but still have to learn what it means to put another's needs above their own. And not just once, but over and over again.
What an important lesson to learn. For without it, how will a marriage one day work? How will parenting work?
Because to love very often means to sacrifice.
But, as I watch the growing respect and friendship between these two brothers, I'm reminded of how much sacrificial love is worth.
Everything.
Wisdom's Blessing
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
My daughter fell from the swingset. It scared her and it hurt. The whole house full of boys and one anxious mama came running. I wiped the blood away. She cried. I held her. She cried some more. I rocked her in the big chair in the living room. She cried some more.
Her best friend, who is also the brother two years older, watched with sad eyes, longing to comfort. I didn't notice when he left the room, but I saw him return, triumph shining. He was clutching a torn piece of notebook paper. He thrust it out in front of his wounded sister. "Here, here's your letter." I assumed he had hastily drawn her a get-well picture.
Their eyes met. She nodded. And took it.
I continued to rock her.
Minutes later, I glanced down at the notebook paper beside her. In handwriting much too neat to be a brother's, it read,
"You are a gorgeis yong girl. Thanks for being with me. You are amazing."
Confused, I asked her about it. Who wrote this? Where did it come from?
"I did," she said simply.
"You wrote yourself this letter?"
"Yes, I wrote it and put it away in my room, so that when I was having a really bad day, I could look at it and remember."
"And the part about 'being with me?' What did that mean?"
"Well, I'm always with myself."
I laughed outloud at her simple logic, but long after she was better and had returned to playing with her brother, I sat and thought about that one.
How extraordinarily wise is this slip of a girl.
To have the foresight to know confidence can be fleeting.
To be prepared to strengthen her own heart when the need arises.
To be a friend to herself.
And how extraordinarily blessed is this girl.
To have a friend who knows where to find the letter.
I pray today that you, treasured friend, will always be able to remember that you are gorgeous. I bless you with the confidence of knowing you are amazing. And I ask the Father on your behalf to always provide for you a friend who can sing in your ear the words of your own heart's melody if ever you can not.
Her best friend, who is also the brother two years older, watched with sad eyes, longing to comfort. I didn't notice when he left the room, but I saw him return, triumph shining. He was clutching a torn piece of notebook paper. He thrust it out in front of his wounded sister. "Here, here's your letter." I assumed he had hastily drawn her a get-well picture.
Their eyes met. She nodded. And took it.
I continued to rock her.
Minutes later, I glanced down at the notebook paper beside her. In handwriting much too neat to be a brother's, it read,
"You are a gorgeis yong girl. Thanks for being with me. You are amazing."
Confused, I asked her about it. Who wrote this? Where did it come from?
"I did," she said simply.
"You wrote yourself this letter?"
"Yes, I wrote it and put it away in my room, so that when I was having a really bad day, I could look at it and remember."
"And the part about 'being with me?' What did that mean?"
"Well, I'm always with myself."
I laughed outloud at her simple logic, but long after she was better and had returned to playing with her brother, I sat and thought about that one.
How extraordinarily wise is this slip of a girl.
To have the foresight to know confidence can be fleeting.
To be prepared to strengthen her own heart when the need arises.
To be a friend to herself.
And how extraordinarily blessed is this girl.
To have a friend who knows where to find the letter.
I pray today that you, treasured friend, will always be able to remember that you are gorgeous. I bless you with the confidence of knowing you are amazing. And I ask the Father on your behalf to always provide for you a friend who can sing in your ear the words of your own heart's melody if ever you can not.
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