How the government manipulates your "choice"

I just read a terrifying article in the most recent issue of Voice of the Martyrs. While the magazine often details bloody attacks and gruesome persecution, the unlikely replication in my life ease my fear for my own life and children. But this article described a situation in Laos that hit too close to home.

The Laos government is withholding vital paperwork from Christians.

Without this paperwork, the Christians cannot buy or sell, or register for government services; nor can the children attend school or attain employment.

It took my breath away.

Last week, I found out that a close friend of mine needed to replace a social security card for her youngest child. She had misplaced it in a move. When she took the legal birth certificate and the certificate of live birth to the office of Social Security for a replacement card, they refused to accept it. They said they would require a vaccination record.

Vaccination records aren't standardized. They can be forged from a home computer and a word-processing program. A legal birth certificate, on the other hand, proves the citizenship of a child through a variety of confirmation points. (I struggled to obtain one for my youngest child born at home.)

I'm not arguing for or against vaccines here. The issue of vaccination is just a symptom of a much greater, much scarier problem. The American government is taking away our choice. "Sure, you can choose to not vaccinate your children," they say, "but you cannot register for government services unless you do."

"Sure, you can choose to not have health insurance, but you'll have to pay 6.5% of your gross income if you do." (This will take effect in 2016.)

"Sure, you can home school. But your children won't receive diplomas or be eligible for college scholarships." (This hasn't happened in America.)

"Sure, you can express freedom of speech about guns or homosexuality or terrorists. But we will take your kids away to 'protect' them." (This hasn't happened yet, but I see it on the horizon.)

"Sure, you can worship Jesus. You just can't buy or sell anything if you do." (This hasn't happened. Yet.)

Eerily similar to the situation in Laos.

I fear this is just the tip of the iceberg. I've never been a conspiracy theorist, but I'm not conspiring here. I'm simply observing the facts.

"Virtually Unbreakable" unless the Wilsons use it

You know why raising kids cost so much? Because they break everything they touch. I swear my boys must lie in their bunks at night sharing secret ideas on how to break the most unbreakable items in the house. Yet they still manage to verify all manufacturers claims of "virtually unbreakable" or "chip-proof" or "water resistant."

• The toilet seat. Ripped right off the toilet and shivved through the air like a frisbee, amidst gales of laughter, might I add.
• Into the window. I fought for the new "unbreakable" windows, but only managed to get tempered glass with a lifetime, no-questions-asked, replacement warranty. I wonder how many times they'll replace the same pane of glass without asking questions? 
• The sink. How the heck do you break a pedestal sink? I have no idea. (I'm glad they did, though, because I replaced it with a fancy vanity and charged it to their account.)
• The toilet. "Let's see how many toys we can shove down this aqueous cavern before Mom pulls out that snakey tool and splashes human waste all over herself again!" It's on their calendar. I swear it is. "And when that is done, let's rock it back and forth until the bolts break and the sewage just seeps right out underneath it? Sounds like fun, right?!"
• The fan chain. Handed to me with a quick, backward glance. "Can you put this back on, Mom? We can't swing from it anymore." What? No, I cannot! Stop swinging on the chain, kid!
• Every lamp I've ever bought. No explanation necessary.
• The water hose spigot. I don't know how it happened. But my water bill sank us that month.
• The pool pump. Everything is meant to be jumped and/or climbed upon. Especially incredibly expensive PVC items. 
• The bed. Poorly made. The other bed. An antique. Neither holds up well to wrestling, or jumping, or swinging, or headstands. Use the bed right! Just lie still and quiet, would you? (I unapologetically use the "Don't break it" argument for my sanity in times when I just need a moment of silence.)
• Those awesome Corelle dishes made from vitreous china. "Virtually unbreakable," the sticker reads. I stocked up. Unfortunately, my kids see that label as a challenge. "I'll show you unbreakable!" Their war cry resounds throughout the house as the poor dish (unlike my tempered-glass window) shatters into billions of tiny, sharp shards. "Freeze!" I yell to my interminably barefoot littles. I have them well-trained when it comes to the possibility of cutting their feet on the mess they just made.  "Freeze, while I clean this up." (I think this must be why they go around barefoot all the time.) They all obey, and lazily watch me with a sly smile as I toil over the mess with a broom and dustpan. That's right, a broom. Not a vacuum. I bet you can guess why. 
• The vacuum. You know the Dyson, whose claim to fame is, "The only vacuum that never loses suction!" Not true. If you kick the plastic intake tube so that it cracks, the Dyson will, in fact, lose suction, just like every other piece of junk plastic vacuum I've ever owned. 
• The other vacuum. Can you believe we've taken down two name-brand vacuums? The Oreck fared okay until my husband tried to push it in all his testosterone glory. And just like that, I'm sweeping rugs. Which brings me to...
• The broom. It has a metal handle with a plastic stopper at the top. We broke the plastic plug, which wouldn't be a big deal in a normal family, but in ours, the broomstick all of a sudden became a weapon designed to lance the unsuspecting victim with the sharp, metal, now-exposed tip. Seriously. Seriously?!

So I guess what I'm saying here is, please stop telling my kids that they can't break something. Their rubbish radar goes off, and their testosterone kicks in, along with a good dose of ingenuity, and all of a sudden, your unbreakable is in a neat little pile on my rug... because, being deprived of my broom, I swept it up with my hands, which are, as of this writing, virtually unbreakable! 

(Please don't tell my kids.)

(I found this shattered toy hourglass immediately after I finished typing this post.)

6 ways to minister to the lonely young mother

For a few months, I have been on the verge of potty training my very last baby. There is a profound sense of accomplishment in this momentous occasion. It's not that I mind changing diapers, but it's simply an indication of a far greater gift--freedom.

The responsibilities of motherhood can drown a woman who chooses not to work outside the home, who longs for adult company, who seems leashed to the very needy infants she so longed for just months earlier, and now, she just longs for more than a few hours of sleep stitched together or a visit from the laundry fairy.

I recently read an article posted on the Gospel Coalition that was meant for encouragement for lonely new moms that even though they may feel lonely, they must remember that Christ is always with them. You can read the blog post here.

Believe me, I have been there. I had five kids in four years. Multiply what the author of that article, Courtney Reissig, felt times, like a billion, and that's me 90% of the time in those demanding early years. But now that I'm coming out of the fog, now that I'm sleeping 8 hours at a time and enjoying a cup of coffee before it cools off (or get misplaced, or knocked over, or consumed by a sneaky little elf), I see this ubiquitous motherhood loneliness as a symptom of a far-greater sin--the sin of apathy within the church.

I don't know when it happened. When did the community of believers become so individualistic that we watch our kindred struggle through life with little more than a shake of the head and a "Bless your heart"? Reissig wrote to the lonely mother, as encouragement in her darkest moments, but I'm writing to those of us who know the lonely mother. Do something to save her! Here are a few examples of things that ministered to my lonely heart during my demanding days. Don't let the body of Christ flounder because that's what you're accustomed to.

1. Invite her family over for dinner. Don't ask them to bring something. Fix a real meal. Remind her not to help you clean up. Hold her babies. Ask about her life. Play a game! If new moms get lonely because their babies interfere with their social lives, give her back a taste of a social life.

2. Go to her house and do her chores. Remember the poem:
Quiet down cobwebs
Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby
And babies don't keep.

Well, the sad truth is, as often as I wanted to while my days away cooing at my sweet babies and playing games with them, the chores simply can't be ignored. And the satisfaction of finishing the chores and enjoying a clean house is gobbled up by the irritating interruptions of demanding toddlers. It sometimes takes me all afternoon just to empty the dishwasher, when you factor in all the refereeing, wiping up spills, and changing diapers that interrupt me.

Don't ask her to call you if she needs help. Just go do it.

3. Volunteer at the church nursery. It makes sense that every nursery mom needs to carry her weight, and that's probably why every church I've ever attended required me to volunteer in the nursery once each month. As much as I love babies (and I do, I had six!), I needed that time in church each week to recharge my spiritual connection, and yes, just to be free from the demands of my crying child, or someone else's crying child. I cherished those two hours each week talking about the Lord without constant, frustrating interruptions. Please, please, volunteer in the nursery so that the new mom doesn't have to. It is a true ministry, even though it doesn't feel like it to you.

4. Husbands, step up! This is not the days of the Brady Bunch where we all have a housekeeper. Gone are the days of rooming in where new moms had female relatives tend to her at all times for months while she recovered from childbirth. Do the dishes, put away the laundry, get to know the vacuum. Take a nighttime feeding. (Women, if you're breastfeeding, I highly recommend that you allow your husband to bottle feed your baby once during the night so you can string together a few more zzz's.) Gas up the car, maintain the house, mow the yard, take out the trash. Learn to cook, go grocery shopping, or at least volunteer cheerfully to take care of your children so she can go to the store in peace. (You should have seen me with five babies at the grocery store. Cra-cra lady!) Do not... I repeat... DO NOT watch television or goof off or read while your wife is doing chores. Join her in the work or you will ruin her joy. Also, that's just disrespectful and mean.

5. Pamper her. Can I just tell you what a marvelous ministry the foot massage is? Or scalp massage? Or shoulder massage? Okay, really, just any massage anywhere. Stress causes tension in places we never knew we had, and caring for a newborn is stressful! Take a teenager to care for her kids, and give her a mani/pedi. If you can afford it, take her to the salon. Take her out for coffee or ice cream. Give her a non-mom purse  (Mom-bag: the size of Texas in a vinyl, easy-clean fabric), some pretty jewelry, or fancy shampoo. Take the initiative, because, I promise you, she feels like she's imposing on you if she asks you over when the house is a mess and the kids are crazy.

6. Babysit. For free. That's right, you heard me. Call that new mom up and tell her you want to watch her children for no charge (specify that up front) while she and her husband enjoy a date night. If you care for the marriages in your family of Christ, babysit. If you have the means, you might even throw in a few bucks for them to enjoy a fancy dessert.

Wow, you say, all these ideas sound great, if only I knew young mothers. Well, I say to you, ask God to bring you some, and I promise, He will. His heart is for His church. Also, just go down to the church nursery after the service and you'll find all the new moms your little heart can handle. Minister to them as unto the Lord, and the Lord will "Bless your heart." I promise.

Compassion or Ignorance?

You've seen them--haggard, unshaven men, tattered jacket, duct-taped shoes, slumped, smileless, at the side of the road, Sharpie proclaiming on cardboard: "Homeless, please help." As an afterthought, or perhaps a marketing scheme, penciled below, "God bless." 

Out of our abundance, should we not, as Christians, "love our neighbor as ourselves" by dropping a buck in his outstretched hand? Is the beggar not our God-ordained, Biblical responsibility to financially support, so that he or she can enjoy the same food, clothing, shelter, health care, education, and other unalienable rights that we prosperous, hard-working Americans enjoy? Should we not feel guilty that we enjoy lavish vacations and climate-controlled, sprawling estates while others suffer, impoverished, without even a lumpy mattress to cushion their frail bodies from the asphalt when their fatigue overcomes them?

Biblically, I argue the answer is no. 

Jesus offers plenteous advice on money--He speaks more about riches and generosity than He does about Heaven in the New Testament! Even in the Old Testament, God provided many principles of generosity that should govern our budgets and behaviors toward money today. 

Solomon, the richest king to ever live, had much advice about generosity in the Proverbs. "Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it," advises Proverbs 3:27, for example. Our Sunday School literature, published by Lifeway, printed this verse above a list of excuses people offer "for not helping someone in need." No one mentioned the two caveats in this verse: 1) the person in need is "due" good  (The New Living Translation even translates it as someone who deserves it.); and 2) it is in your power to do it. Solomon also wrote, "The generous soul will be made rich" in Prov. 11:25 and again, "He who has mercy on the poor, happy is he" in 14:21, and "He who has pity on the poor lends to the Lord, and He will pay back what he has given" in 19:17.

Jesus said to a crowd of people in the Sermon on the Mount, "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also... No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and [money]." 

If you pray to the Lord to show you someone in need and how you can help, He will. God's heart is for people. He said the second greatest commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself. I propose that handing a beggar on the corner a handful of cash is not the best way to love him. The claw of addiction grips many homeless beggars, especially in areas where organizations exist to shelter, feed, and clothe the homeless. The ones approaching us for handouts often refuse help from these organizations because they do not want to or cannot overcome their addictions. Would you call it love if I gave a meth addict more meth? Putting cash in the hands of an addict assures the continuance of his addiction, and perhaps even contributes to his death by overdose.

A sign in downtown Memphis shocked my husband and me as we moseyed down Main Street on a rare date night. It implored tourists to avoid giving handouts to beggars because that action undermines the efforts of the official organization to help the homeless. It basically said, "If you really want to help the homeless, stop giving them cash." (And if the government says so, it must be true, right?)

Skilled beggars play on your compassion. (The compassionate, unjaded heart does not displease God.) It's true, beggars need to eat. Perhaps consider giving them a sandwich. Once, in Chattanooga, a man knocked on our door asking for cash because he had called a cab to take him to a town 45-minutes away. He also wanted to eat. So we offered him a pizza and a ride. We honestly were surprised when he accepted. The surprise faded into reality when he asked to be let off at the corner only two blocks from our house. His excuse? The cab company would blacklist him if he didn't show up for his taxi. 

At another time, inside a convenience store, a man approached me and asked me for cash for a meal. I told him I didn't carry cash (which was the truth), but I could buy him a snack. He declined. He ended up in front of me in line, purchasing only one thing--a large bottle of some sort of alcoholic drink. 

An article a decade ago in Raleigh, NC highlighted begging as a career, pointing out a man who had a permit to beg and earned more than my full-time nurse husband did annually. I'm guessing he didn't report taxes on any of it either.

I share these stories as stereotypical of our experiences. I certainly don't want to label an entire subset of society based on a handful of my own experiences. This conversation could continue for decades. The poor will always be with us, as Jesus said. How can we honor God and help the needy--actually help the needy, not just salve a guilty conscience driving our luxury vehicles past a tattered man proclaiming his poverty?

I don't have all the answers, but I will share what I have found in the Bible. A passage in Deuteronomy 14 shocked me yesterday--God told the Israelites to store their tithe every third year to feed the Levites (the priests who were not given any land to work, but worked in the worship of the Lord), the widows, and the orphans within their gates. We can apply this principle by taking care of our ministers, whose work is for the worship of the Lord. We also know God commands us to care for widows and orphans--the unintentionally and unavoidably impoverished. In fact, James writes that pure and undefiled religion is visiting widows and orphans in their affliction.

Now here's a question: Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, "Give to him who asks you, and from him who wants to borrow from you, do not turn away." If you commit to follow this instruction to the letter, let me know, so I can get in on the action before you run out of money! Seriously, this verse poses difficulty for me. I have often given cash to those who ask because of this specific command from Jesus. However, I Timothy 5 offers outstanding advice in the Christian's responsibility for the poor of the earth. In a nutshell, Paul advises the church members to take care of widows who are true widows--older than 60, unlikely to marry again, and with no relatives to take care of them. He also says do not burden the church (by which he means us, the Christians) to take care of people who either have relatives who should be taking care of them or who can work to take care of themselves. 

That's fairly sound advice, eh?

In the same passage, Paul warns against "overgiving" (a sin that very few of us are guilty of, I'm sure.) He writes, "But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." Of course, your definition of "provide" may not match Paul's intention, which brings me to the crux of the matter.

Your money belongs to God. Every single cent. If you have the intimate love relationship with Jesus  that He desires, He will guide you through His word and the Holy Spirit in how to use His money. The overarching principle of love should spur Christians to generosity, particularly to other believers who find themselves in a need they cannot work their own way out of, who have no relatives to take care of them. As for the others, I say give as you feel led by the Holy Spirit. Just remember that giving cash may actually be the opposite of showing love. 

When God leads...

Ten days ago, I went on strike.

Okay, it wasn't quite that drastic. I simply prioritized my life, and cleaning was so low on the list that it fell off.

See, New Year's Resolutions always get me--eat right, exercise daily, read the Bible, read [a list of] books, teach my kids [a variety of things], keep the house clean and organized.

But I only have so many hours in a day. The same number you do, actually. It is never enough to accomplish my list of resolutions.

In my frenzied attempt to do so, the Lord whispered, "Dorothy, you are so busy with so many things. Choose the one thing."

One thing? How do I choose one thing? One!

I said, "But God, if I don't clean, who is going to do it?"

God responded, "Do you not think I am big enough to take care of it? Even if I don't, obey me. Choose the one thing."

Ten days passed without a scrubbing, a sorting, or a sweeping. Clementine peels littered the floor, pistachio shells crunched underfoot, pizza sauce splattered, yet God said, "You are so busy with so many things."

I chose to immerse myself in God's word and books about God's word with the time I used to spend cleaning up after the family. I only did the dishes, cleaned the laundry, taught the lessons, and enjoyed the Lord Jesus.

I did not enjoy the mess.

This morning, my husband corralled the kids and said, "This place is filthy. You are going to clean it today. You must learn to clean up your own messes."

My children, ages 9 and under, and my husband spent eight full hours scrubbing, sweeping, trashing, sorting, vacuuming, and tidying. Chris even dismantled the light fixtures to exhume the deceased insects. I, also, spent the day cleaning the kitchen and preparing the meals... and enjoying time in the word of God.

The Lord responded to my plea, but only after I obeyed him. We are so busy with so many things, yet Jesus promised us rest. Not laziness, but rest in His work. Don't be blinded to His work by the burdens of your own making. Choose the one thing.