Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

A Different Advent

When You’re Afraid You’re Raising Spiritual Barbarians

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You may recall that we don’t have a good track record with family devotions. I’ve tried a number of them, and so far we’ve failed to make it a regular habit. At one point last year, fed up with my kids’ persistent mutiny against devotions, I actually gave away my own copy of Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling for Kids in a random blog drawing.

When Advent rolled around this year I decided to simplify the whole process by going straight to the source. I decided we would read some of the Gospel of Luke as our nightly dinnertime devotion.

“Mommy! Read more!” Rowan begged one night at the table, after I’d finished the story of Zachariah. “Are you serious?” I asked, closing my Bible and setting it next to my plate.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m serious, read more,” he said. “It’s catchy, don’t you think?”

“Catchy” is certainly one way to think of the Bible.

Two weeks into Advent Noah asked if we could continue the dinnertime Bible reading even after Christmas. Again, I asked if he was joking. Turns out, he wasn’t, and so that’s the plan. I’ve wanted to try The Message translation for a while now, so I picked up a copy at Barnes & Noble last weekend, and this week we started from the beginning, with the light and darkness, the heavens and earth.

For the past three years, whenever I read about many of my fellow bloggers and their families, I saw a Norman Rockwell picture of perfection – the family gathered around the dinner table, heads bowed, Scripture in hands. Then I’d look at my kids, falling off their chairs, silverware clattering to the floor, giggling through grace, mutinying against every attempt to bring God to the table, and I’d inevitably assume I was doing something wrong. “Why? Why is this so hard? Why can’t my kids be polite and Godly?” I wondered. “What am I doing wrong that they are such spiritual barbarians?”

The answer, of course, is nothing. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I simply needed to persevere until it clicked; to keep trying different options until one fit. And to wait. Patiently.

Maybe it’s simply that they are older now, a little better able to concentrate and understand. Or maybe I should have cut right to the chase, bypassing the devotional books and going straight to the Bible. Or perhaps this, too, will turn out to be a fad. Maybe three weeks from now they’ll mutiny again.

I’m not telling you this story so I can pat myself on the back, or so you’ll look at our family the way I looked at others. Instead, I want you to see what’s real, so that you’ll know that it’s all okay, in every less-than-pretty variation. I want you know that boys tumble from chairs, and silverware clatters to the floor, and someone burps during the prayer, and thanks is given more often for Super Mario Bros. than for the soup.

Grace isn’t always pretty, at least at our house. But through it all, God is present. Even, or perhaps especially, when we fall off our chairs.

 What about you? Do you read the Bible or evening devotions at dinnertime with your family? Do you ever feel like you’re raising spiritual barbarians?

With Ann Voskamp’s Walk with Him Wednesday series {because we are trying, again, to make a habit out of this…}

 

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A Different Advent: Reading the Book of Luke

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{Today I’m re-visiting a f post I wrote in 2010 for a series called “A Different Advent.” What’s cool is that two years later, we are still practicing  many of the ideas we experimented with as a family then — including the tradition I write about here today: reading through the Gospel of Luke at dinnertime.}

I laughed out loud a few weeks ago when my friend Dan recounted the first time he read the story of Jesus’ birth on Christmas Day. When his wife asked him to read the “Christmas Story,” as she referred to it, Dan was shocked to see a Bible placed in his lap. He’d assumed she’d meant ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

I’m with Dan – this will be the first time in my 40 years that I have read the story of Jesus’ birth on Christmas Day…or even leading up to Christmas Day (aside from in church, of course).

Nearly every evening at suppertime this month we’ve read a few lines about the birth of Jesus in Luke or Matthew. It’s been a revelation for me to realize just how little I know about the details of that story. Just this week, for instance, I was surprised to read that Joseph, Mary and the infant Jesus escaped to Egypt for two years to avoid King Herod, who vowed to kill baby Jesus.

I know I’ve read that detail before, but the magnitude of it never stuck with me – that just days after birthing her first child, Mary had to travel nearly 200 miles to a foreign land. Can you imagine bumping along on the back of a donkey just days after giving birth? Can you imagine raising your newborn in a foreign country where you didn’t know a soul? Can you imagine the fear, the terror of having to dash from Bethlehem in the middle of the night because a crazed king was bent on murdering your child?

That’s the beauty of reading the Bible just a few lines at a time – you can soak in the details of the story.

Often when I do my morning Bible study, I feel compelled to rush through the text, to squeeze in as much reading as my limited time will allow. It seems I simply want to “get through” the Bible in order to check it off my daily to-do list.

But because we are following an Advent devotional book, our evening readings are much more concise. We read just a handful of lines, maybe a verse or two, and then ask questions and talk about the scene for a few minutes. I’m not exactly sure what this approach is having on my kids, but for me, at least, it’s allowed me to think about and remember the details of this age-old story.

I’m eager to read the “Christmas Story” in Luke on December 25 this year. After piecing the narrative together line by line this last month, I wonder how the story will read as a whole. I wonder how the kids will react to it.

I’m keeping my expectations low – after all, these are the kids who talked about dead racoons as part of our Advent devotions last week. But I do hope that we can breathe the true Christmas Story into our celebration on December 25 and be amazed, even if only for a moment or two, that he came to be with us.

Do you have any Advent traditions you follow from year to year? Have you tried anything new this year?

When Advent’s Not All Pretty and Perfect

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It begins with inappropriate words uttered over the breakfast table, followed by a discussion of those inappropriate words, followed by a retraction of the promised ice cream outing to Ivanna Cone scheduled for that evening. Then here’s the crying and the wailing and the gnashing of teeth (by both child and mother).

And the next thing I know, the nativity has been rearranged on the coffee table.

Baby Jesus sits in the very center, but instead of the tiny clay wise men and lambs and Joseph and Mary gazing down at him in a close-knit circle of adoration, Rowan has moved each of them to the far corners and edges of the table, with their backs turned to Jesus.

Every lamb, every goat, every angel is turned away from Emmanuel.

“You know, honey,” I say to Rowan when I spot the new arrangement, “even when you turn your back on Jesus, he still lives in your heart.”

No response.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a revelation of sorts? Maybe I expected Rowan to look up at me all gracious and repentant, a flash of illumination written across his face. It’s Advent, after all. Isn’t Advent supposed to be pretty and perfect? All glittery and shiny and beautiful? A season of anticipation and awaiting and love?

But he didn’t. Rowan turned his back on me, too, and walked away.

There I was, poised to point my finger and start ranting and raving, when I caught another glimpse of those wise men and the sheep turned away from Jesus. And it hit me hard. I do it, too. I’m no different than Rowan. I turn my back on Jesus, too. I walk away from him. I can’t point my finger at Rowan without first pointing at myself.

In the end, the lesson I intended for Rowan is really meant for me. I need the reminder, too – that Jesus is Emmanuel. God with us. No matter what.

I need to remember that even when I turn my back on him, he still lives in my heart. He doesn’t abandon me. He doesn’t walk the other way.

Emmanuel.

God with us.

Amen.

 Have you ever had a revelation like that — did you ever suddenly realize that God is with you, no matter what? 

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Linking with Jennifer and Emily today:

3 Ways to Say No During the Holidays {in Order to Say Yes to God}

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{Today and next Friday I am re-visiting posts I wrote in 2010 for a series called “A Different Advent.” I love how some of the Advent practices we started then are still keeping me focused this year, like these three suggestions for how to treasure my time during such a hectic season.}

A couple of years ago I had the pleasure of hearing Beth Moore speak at the “Deeper Still” Christian conference in Birmingham. When she spoke about the Advent season and the concept of treasuring, one thing she mentioned stuck with me fast:

“Treasure,” said Moore, “gets lost in the same trash as our time.”

She had the audience – all 13,900 of us – repeat the phrase after her:

Treasure gets lost in the same trash as our time.

Moore’s statement suggests that if we want to treasure this holiday season, if we want to find hope and peace, joy and Jesus amid the frenetic busyness, we need to free up the space and time to do so.

For me, the best way to do this is simply to say no. Today I’m sharing with you the three ways I say no during the holidays in order to say yes to God.

Say No to Invites

I typically decline one or two seasonal events, even if it’s something I or the kids want to attend. Just last week, for example, I declined an invitation to a party where I knew Santa would make an appearance and piles of homemade Kiss cookies would be spread out lavishly on a table.

How could anyone possibly say no to peanut butter Kiss cookies? I knew the kids, Rowan especially, would love to go. But I also knew it would take place on a Sunday night after I’d been out of town all weekend. And I could see without a shadow of a doubt that I would be overtired and cranky and in no mood.

Sometimes it’s beneficial to look at our calendars and the timing of events, and be honest with ourselves about what’s going to be too much. Knowing your limits helps prevent hectic holiday overload.

Say No to Perfectionism

For me, saying no to perfectionism this year means my gifts won’t look like Martha Stewart stopped by for a wrapping soiree. And my Christmas photo card will be created in 15 minutes flat on Walgreens.com. And my mantel will be decorated the exact same way it’s been decorated for the last 11 years.

Maybe for you saying no to perfection means forgoing Christmas cards or the newsletter altogether. Or baking one kind of Christmas cookie, instead of three or four.

Perfection arrives in the smallest, most humble package of all — a baby, swaddled in cloths and laid in a run-down barn. But if we are so busy perfecting our staircase garland and our dining room table, we’ll miss the One True Perfection entirely.

Say No to Overspending 

I finished my Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving this year. And I didn’t go wildly crazy for a change. Each person on my list will receive one modest gift (I’ve been known to give three or four). And the kids will get three gifts each from Santa beneath the tree. Less time spent shopping the crowded malls and fussing over fancy gifts means more time spent quietly at home, away from the blaring commercialism and consumerism that can quickly make Christmas feel ugly and shallow. A few friends and I have also agreed to forgo exchanging gifts in favor of dinner or coffee together. We are choosing “presence” over presents.

The truth is, I am easily wooed by the gifts this season offers – the lights, the music, the sweets, the decorating, the gifts, the parties. Most of the opportunities that come my way are things I would love to do, or experiences my family and kids would enjoy.

But there can be too much of a good thing. There is such thing as too many festivities, too many gifts, too much food and socializing, shopping and celebrating.

Time is treasure. Saying no is a gift. 

So what about you? Do you have any tips for dialing down the holiday busyness in order to focus more closely on God? Will you share your wisdom here?

 

Wrapping My Heart around Christmas

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Over the years my family has carved out a number of holiday traditions, from baking mini pumpkin chocolate-chip loaves for the kids’ teachers to belting Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer ad nauseum. By far, though, my favorite tradition is wrapping gifts for City Impact.
Each year in December, City Impact organizes what’s called the Gifts of Love Store in the basement of First Baptist Church in downtown Lincoln. They collect hundreds of donated items, dramatically mark down the retail price, and then open the store to allow low-income families to shop for the holidays. My husband, two boys and I volunteer one night every December to help the kids wrap the gifts they’ve chosen for their parents, grandparents and siblings.
We roll up our sleeves, lay out scissors, paper, ribbon, bows, gift bags and tags at each wrapping station, and not long after, they start to come.

…I’m delighted to be writing about one of my family’s holiday traditions over at Chelsey’s place, as part of her 25 Days of Christmas Traditions series. Will you click over to read about our wrapping adventure?

And while you’re here, tell me: what’s your favorite holiday tradition?  [oh, and be sure to come back here Friday for a giveaway!]