Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Guest Post with Flower Patch Farmgirl

(I am so excited to bring you today's guest post. Flower Patch Farmgirl's blog has become the place where I sneak away each night for a little time to myself and some big time inspiration. Amidst beautifully written words and sentences, she challenges her readers to love Jesus more. Here is Shannan in her own words.)

What I Want My Kids To Know
"God's design for taking the gospel to the world is a slow, intentional, simple process that involves every one of his people sacrificing every facet of their lives to multiply the life of Christ in others."
- Radical, by David Platt p.104Link

Last week I attended the annual banquet for the alternative school where my husband works. I cried four times, the first being before they had even served the salad. There's something about witnessing wild hope stretched long in a line across the stage in shiny shirts and long, unruly hair, nervous smiles and worn-out eyes. These kids have battled their way to where they are right now. They have failed. They have been failed. But they claw and reach. They fix their eyes on that speck of shine, way, way up at the horizon, and they just keep trudging toward it.

I have wondered if teenagers like these have any hope at all. I have worried that maybe their hurts have scraped them clean of the capacity to really grow. Maybe all we can do is jump back in the line, back to their little brothers and the sisters that aren't even born. Maybe only then.

Or maybe I'm a coward. Maybe I'm lazy. Maybe I like a make believe world where the easiest option is the answer.


I look around my lunch table at noon, my plastic fold-up dinner table at dusk, and I see three faces wide with hope, filled all the way up with future. Oh, that they just believe down beneath their skin that they are truly, fully loved and honored. That's what carries hope.

It's staggering to think of the lives that might be plucked up and carried on to hope with the simple intervention of the love you and I already have for the giving.


We can do this. We have enough love for the ones in our care and the ones barely cared for at all. We can do our best to make up for lost time when they're older and harder and reluctant to believe. And if if they still don't and they still won't, we can keep on loving.



So this, this aside from life-piercing faith in Jesus Christ, is what I want to bury in the souls of my three. I want them to know way in the deep-down that there is enough Mommy and Daddy to share. I beg that they see so much earlier these truths that I am only seeing through the wrinkle of years - that our business extends far past the walls of wherever we call home.

I want them to witness the power of God's love through us, and then I want them to slip it on and see how well it fits. They can trust Heaven's math that defies textbooks and modern convention - love given is multiplied, never divided.

What I want, more than anything, is for Calvin, Ruby, and Silas to feel the soul-yank of suffering as they see it growling and mad in the lives around them. I want them to be quick to act in love; ruthless to believe for sure that hope is never lost.

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