Grace, oh Irresistible Grace

Irresistible Grace. If you've been around the Reformed world of faith for any amount of time, you're most certainly familiar with this term. As reformed believers, we believe that the Grace of God is so irresistible that no one whom he has called can "resist" this call. We are not drawn to our Heavenly Father by the rules or laws in the Bible that we so often talk about. We aren't even drawn out of fear of eternal damnation. That one may work for awhile, as many "preachers and teachers" of the Bible like to use that one, and it makes for good numbers at revivals and numbers of baptisms each year.  (Sorry, I may be stepping on some toes there.) But after awhile, without a relationship with Jesus where one understands grace, even the fear of hell starts to wear. The only thing that truly draws people to Christ and keeps them there is Grace--undeserved, unmerited Grace.

(I understand that not all believers are reformed and probably not everyone reading this is a believer. That's okay. I think we can all agree that we need grace--whether from God or each other--and we are drawn to those who give it.)

So my question is this....if we, as believers, believe that we love our Heavenly Father because of his grace, why would we not want to parent our children the same way? It's something that I started thinking about years ago, and it has shaped every part of my parenting.

When I became a parent 20 years ago, I wanted what I think most Christian moms want. I wanted to know everything I could about bringing up my children for Jesus. I wanted kids who loved Jesus from an early age, and I wanted to "save" them from ever making the mistakes I did.  So what did I do? Well, I read books, I listened to moms who had well behaved kids, and I prayed that God would show me how to parent the way he wanted me to. (At least I got one thing right.) Now, I am not saying that it's wrong to read parenting books or get advice from veteran moms, but I'm just saying it probably takes a bit more of a litmus test than what I did. My thought now is, when asking advice on parenting, don't ask the mom with the well behaved 4 year old. Ask the mom whose grown child still wants to come home. (By the way, there is not just one way to achieve this. The secret is....there is no formula, only Jesus.)

I found myself pregnant in 1996, and guess what book came out that very year?? "On Becoming Babywise" by Gary Ezzo. I had heard of him and his study being done in hundreds of churches around the country called "Growing Kids God's Way." It was all the rage on how to make those little selfish 8 pound brats (who came into this world wanting to split up your marriage and nurse 24 hours a day) into self reliant, obedient, respectful angels who slept 8-10 hours by 2 months old. This "On Becoming Babywise" book was the secular companion. You didn't have to commit to the 10 week course, and it was available everywhere. Here it was--the answer that every young Christian mom was looking for. Here was the formula, right? I mean, how can you argue with "Growing Kids God's Way"??? And the person who gave it to me was someone I really respected who had a couple of children and seemed to have it together. So I read it, and sadly, I bought into it.

I'll admit, it seemed extreme. I mean, did babies really come into this world as manipulating little beings who could ruin a marriage if they got their way of making our family a "child centered" family? As a believer in total depravity, I guess I could buy that--maybe?? But all these other moms were raving about his book. Their babies slept through the night by 4 weeks, 8 weeks, etc. Their babies were on 3 hour eating schedules and having their nursing time, awake time, sleep time right on schedule. They were sleeping on their own and they didn't need to nurse to sleep. (I don't think I realized that that was even a big deal until Ezzo told me.) Actually, I didn't realize any of this was a big deal until Ezzo told me. But because if I gave into any of my baby's demands, picked him up when he cried, or (worst thing of all) let him sleep with us, I was going to make him into a selfish brat that would rule our house with his demanding ways....I read on and I paid attention.

Skip forward a few years. I had been a mom for a few years. I had figured out that all kids weren't the same. All discipline didn't work the same for every kid. And maybe, just maybe, there wasn't a formula. So I did a really crazy thing. I told my husband I thought that we needed to stop spanking our child and just show grace. He was three. He was angry. He felt our discipline was unjustified, and he didn't feel respected.

So our next child came along....and I was going to do it right this time. I never let her cry. She slept in my bed, right beside me, Ezzo be damned. But then I figured out around 3 months that she wanted to sleep alone. Hahaha!! (all babies are NOT the same.) And then the next baby came.....he slept with us for about 8-9 months and then did great transitioning to his bed. And then our next baby came.....and she stayed in our room for quite some time. Then another and another. And all these babies were shown all the affection, attention and love they needed, whenever they needed it.

I remember seeing a video a couple of years ago. It was from when my oldest was about 8 and the 2nd, 3rd and 4th were 3, 2, and 1. Several times during the video I told my oldest to stop doing something that was completely just childish. There was nothing "wrong" with what he was doing. He was being a kid. And eventually I sent him to his room. When I saw this video, I cried. I sobbed. I saw what I had done, and I couldn't forgive myself. You see, my oldest child's love language is "quality time." So every time I ever sent him to his room, sent him away from me, I told him "I don't want you around" even though that's not what I thought I was telling him. I just thought I was saying, "We need some time apart." But he heard, "I don't want you here." And now I know this. So seeing myself send him away for something so trivial just killed me.

I didn't understand grace. 

I didn't know that the way I had been conditioned to parent was without grace. He was supposed to obey what I said, when I said it. Right? Isn't that what the books said? First time obedience. That was the most important thing. Ahhhhh, how many things I didn't understand. 

Skip forward about 12 years. (Today, 4/9/17)

Sometimes things happen that make me think, "I so wish I believed in spanking right now." Today was one of those days. Some of you who know me may know that my youngest child (#6 who is also 6 yo/almost 7) has never been easy in church. Church was absolute torture from the time he was too old for nursery (when he turned 4) until about 6 months ago when he miraculously started being okay with children's church. Some Sundays though. Today was one of those. We have bagels downstairs at church, and Cedar knows that. So his routine is to go downstairs as soon as we get there, get his bagel and cream cheese and bring it up and sit with us. Today I waited and waited, and he never came. I asked Shepley to go check on him. She came back saying that he was downstairs, but he was in line to do the palm branches with the other kids. Oh no. I knew. I should've just told her to get him. But I thought, "Well, if he's staying, maybe he wants to..." Um, no. When the kids came in with the branches, all the others went straight to the front to wave their branches and sing. Cedar came straight to our pew, with his branch. I told him, "I think you're supposed to go up front" (still under some impression that this was his choice.) He walked out of the pew, turned back around and burst into tears. I got him calmed down, and church started. But oh something was off. He was sad and mad and off. Everything made him upset. When it was time for children's church, he refused to go. Well, that would be fine if he could actually sit in church. But with the way things were going, I knew that wasn't the case. So I tried to get him just to leave with me. He started kicking and screaming. I picked up his 65 lb. 54" body and walked out the front of the church with him pounding my back and screaming. Y'all. Here I am. A 43 year old woman with six children who obviously, to most of the world, has no idea yet on how to raise them. I took him downstairs, and I had a little chat with God. "Please show me if I'm wrong in parenting this way! We are testing this 'It's about their heart, not behavior' thing to its limits." He sat at the bottom of the stairs and yelled "Meanie" at me while I stood around the corner and cried. 

And then....oh and then.....Mary. Mary is a homeless woman who is always around at church. Usually I love Mary. We have good conversations, and she loves my kids. But today, today was not a good day for an encounter with Mary. She came right over (because of course Mary doesn't get subtleties of parents crying their eyes out over wayward children) and talked to me. I so badly wanted her to leave, but she didn't. She talked to me. She talked to Cedar. I couldn't even escape to take him outside because he had left his shoes upstairs in church and at Redeemer, broken glass is a thing. A big thing. Redeemer is a place of refuge for the unwanted, marginalized and outcast, and most of the time...they come with bottles. 

Cedar started running in circles, and Mary talked for a good 8 minutes on how unfair it was that Cedar had so much energy and she didn't. She kept saying to him, "Why won't you give me some of that energy???" And then acting honestly mad that he didn't. *sigh* I finally said, "I think you need to talk with God about that problem, not Cedar." I felt frustrated and alone. But grace. Once again, God gave me grace. Grace to talk to Mary and love her. Grace to forgive Cedar. Grace to forgive myself for not being the perfect parent with perfect kids. And then came the humility. Oh sweet humility that will never let me get too much beyond my station. No one will ever look at me and think, "She has it all together." And that's a wonderful thing because, most definitely, I do not. 

So I continued to talk to Mary because Mary doesn't leave. And Cedar started running races with himself and wanting me to count. So Mary and I counted together. And she delighted in him. She asked him questions like he was her equal, not like she was above him. And he answered. He allowed her in our game. He then started "walking in shapes" on the floor for us to guess. She was oh so impressed when I walked in a hexagon, and he knew it on the first guess. She said, "You homeschool that kid, don't you?" Haha! Yes, Mary, we homeschool. But I can't take much credit. 

Finally Mary left. She just quietly slipped away, out the door, and Cedar and I were alone. He held up his arms for me, and I scooped him up. He wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck. He laid his head on my shoulder, and he breathed me in. He knew I was safe. And then Jesus. I sat him down on a table, and looked in his eyes. I said, "Cedar, today is Palm Sunday. That's the day that we celebrate when Jesus rode into Jerusalem. He went there to die, Cedar." Cedar nodded his head, as he already knew this. 

"Why did Jesus die, Cedar? Why did he have to die on a cross?" 

"For my sins." 

"Yep. For your sins and my sins and all the world's sins. He took those sins on himself."

"You mean he ate them?"

"Well, no. They were imputed to him. That means when God looked at him, he saw it like Jesus committed all of OUR sins. All the bad things we have done and will ever do were on Jesus. And Cedar, what happened three days after he died?"

Joyfully he exclaimed, "HE ROSE AGAIN!" 

"Yes, my darling. He did. He conquered sin and death. He conquered Satan." Then...

"Cedar, do you think you have something to say to Jesus?"

"Yes." (Bows his head, closes his eyes and folds his hands...) "Dear Jesus, I'm sorry for my sins. I'm sorry that I acted so bad. Please forgive me." 

"Cedar, what do you think makes you do those things?"

Cedar looked at me with questioning eyes. 

"Our flesh makes us do those things, Cedar."

"Our rotten, stinking flesh?" Cedar asked. 

"Well, yeah. I guess you could put it that way" all the while I was giggling at this point. "Even though Jesus has taken our sin, we still live in these earthly bodies. And they like to sin. We have to keep asking the Holy Spirit for self control everyday."

"I don't have much self control. It's really hard."

"Yeah, self control is really hard. Mommy has to ask God to help me with that everyday, many times a day. We have dark hearts that are filled with sin, Cedar. We need Jesus to clean them and make them pure." 

(Then Cedar starts asking about bloody, red hearts and how they pump blood through our bodies and all the things...)

"But, Cedar, does God ever stop loving you when you sin?"

"No, Mommy, he never does."

"Does Mommy ever stop loving you?"

"No, you never stop loving me." 

"I will always love you, Cedar, no matter what."

With trusting arms wrapped around me and eyes shining..."I will always love you, too, Mommy."

And so my totally frazzled, embarrassing parental moment was a lesson in grace. Every hard moment is a lesson in grace. And the more grace we give, the more we teach our children about the grace of our Heavenly Father. I committed years ago to wanting to get to their hearts. Their hearts were the goal. The behavior was a by-product, a symptom of a sinful heart. God wants my heart, and he gives continuous, irresistible grace along the way to getting it. Grace is what draws me to my Father, and grace is what draws our children to us.