This year in the spiritual life of our family is becoming (quite accidentally but providentially) the year of catechism. Our new church home is teaching the Westminster Shorter Catechism in Sunday School, both to P. and I, and to little J. Fortuitously, we are also learning the children’s catechism at home through song. So she learns a question at Sunday school and memory verse to go along with it and then we sing the question and answer all week long. I LOVE IT. Thanks BTW awesome big sister L. for the musical hook-up. Anyhoo, all this catechismal delight has resulted in the following two thoughts that I feel compelled to share. Mostly because I am failing at journaling and this is a handy replacement. 


First, on a personal note, Question 1 and the subsequent answer of the Heidelburg Catechism is my very most favorite (and linguistically beautiful) one sentence explanation of the gospel. ( A very LOOONG sentence, but you get the point.)


Q1: What is your only comfort in life and death?
A: That I, with body and soul, both in life and in death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ, who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and redeemed me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that all things must work together for my salvation. Wherefore by this Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live unto Him.


Okay, two sentences. But seriously, the first phrase reduces me to grateful tears. What a relief. What a precious gift. Amazing love, how can it be . . . 


My second navel gazing point is this: In the Westminster Shorter Catechism, the first question and answer is this:


Q1: What is the chief end of man?
A: Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. 


Now, the question was raised in sunday school, how does one go about glorifying God? I Cor 10:31 tells us, “Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” But, how? Get in the trenches with me . . . How does doing dishes, grocery shopping, cleaning the same square footage OVER AND OVER, changing a tire that I blew out running over the curb (And, yes, I used to fly helicopters, and no, I can’t drive), doing more dishes, kissing booboos, forcing migraine medicine into a screaming baby, and then doing more dishes equal glorifying God. (In case you were wondering, that is a brief synopsis of my actual day today). And to be perfectly clear, God doesn’t NEED my glory. The omnipotent Alpha and Omega doesn’t NEED my pitiful offering, my fish and loaves. It’s not a question of whether He needs it, but whether I am obedient. Am I heartily willing and ready from now on to live unto Him? 


Counterintuitively, it appears easier sometimes to see the glory in circumstances that seem unbearable, because Christ-driven responses are so opposite our flesh as to be immediately recognized for what they are, the outworking of God’s freely-given life-saving grace. I say this knowing I have dear friends that are in the midst of such circumstances–some emotional, some physical, some for a season, and some for a lifetime. I know for a fact that their willingness to glorify Him in the midst of trial is a fierce and difficult battle won on a day to day basis and I am in awe of their surrender. But in the grinding numbness of daily life, a good life, I freely admit, how can I keep my selfish little heart focused on glorifying Him. 

And the answer, for me, goes back to “eucharisto.” Grace, thanksgiving, and joy, a thousand gifts in my life. Muttering inappropriate phrases under my breath while wrestling with lug nuts becomes gratitude that two weeks ago, my thoughtful husband taught me how to change the tire on my car and where exactly to place the jack (159). Doing the dishes for the third time reminds me that we had dinner as a family (my husband is not deployed!) (160) , we HAD dinner, my children are not literally starving to death (161), and forcing medicine into the Wee Man reminds me that we have health care, access to medicine, and the technology available to diagnose exactly what is wrong with him (162-164). My gratitude in recognizing His gifts to us glorifies Him, and even more importantly, my response glorifies Him. Kiddos will cry, houses will get (and seemingly stay forever) dirty, dinners need fixing, etc. Again and again. And Lord willing, I will praise Him for it. Again and again. 


~M. 


Thankful for husband playing guitar in prep for worship (165), his childlike love of music (166), his passion for worship (167), the beauty in a string of words (168), long dead theologians articulating our faith and proving it with scripture (169), teaching scripture to J (and memorizing it myself! (170) following our schedule today (171), J writing f’s over and over . . . she is listening! (172), heart talks with friends (and laughs over shared memories) (173), witnessing God’s glory in unbearable circumstances (174) being incredibly humbled by Christlike responses to said circumstances (175)

J’s school corner (Number 172)