Why?

I am very familiar with the question "Why?"

In case you didn't know, I have four children, ages practically-seven, five, four, and one.  They love to ask that question.

Particularly, the Beast enjoys asking "Why?" as many times as possible throughout the day.  A typical exchange between me and him might go as follows:

"David, get your coat on, please."

"Why do I need to put on a coat?"

"Because, baby, we are going to the store. Now go get it and put it on."

"Why?  Why are we going to the store?"

"Because I need to pick up a few things from the grocery store, that's why."

"But why?  What things do you need from the store, Momma?"

"Just some milk and things like that.  Come on now, get your coat on!"

"Why do I have to wear a coat?"

As you might imagine, it gets a little tiring at times.  No doubt, if you're a parent, you have experienced the same thing. 

 

And now it's my turn to ask why.

No, I don't need to know why I wear a coat to the store in the wintertime.  I figured that one out a long time ago.

This time, I'm asking why do I believe what I believe.

I know, I should have figured that one out a long time ago too.  After all, I grew up in a Christian home where God and His Word were daily talked about.  I went to church all the time - Sunday school, Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, and all those special services in between.  I attended a Christian school.  I went to a Christian college, where not only did we have Sunday school, Sunday morning service, Sunday evening service, and Wednesday evening service, but we also had chapel services every day.  On Saturdays, I ran a Bible club in the neighborhood and told kids about Jesus.  I've been in church my whole life.

When I came to Oregon several years ago, naturally I fell into the pattern of "be at church as much as possible."  I worked with the teenagers for a while.  I visited a bus route.  I worked in the nursery. I taught kids in children's church.  If anyone asked, I could spout off a list of reasons why I dressed the way I did, listened to the music I did, participated in the activities I did, read the Bible like I did, and so on. 

But I didn't believe it.  I was so busy "playing church" that I didn't take the time to examine myself and really own my faith. 

Don't get me wrong.  I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, sent to be born of a virgin, live on earth, suffer death on the cross for all mankind, and then rise in victory from the grave, conquering death and providing a lifeline to anyone who will accept it.

I believe that I am a sinner, doomed to Hell.  I believe that long ago, in my young, earnest faith, when I prayed to God, confessing my sins and asking Him to save me, He did! 

I believe that someday I will get to spend eternity with Him in Heaven.

 

However, I also believe that I was a "Pharisee" of sorts.  I did a lot of "good things" for the sake of looking good and fitting in.  I felt as if I were better than a lot of people because of the dress standards, music standards, and other ridiculous rules I held myself to.  I didn't have a solid Bible verse or vision from God to stand upon in these matters.  Yet, I followed the scores of "do's" and "do not's" imposed by the churches I was in because they gave me security.  As long as I was doing all those things "right," I didn't have to really examine myself.  I could ignore the false motives and self-righteousness that permeated my heart.

 

When we left our IFB church a few months ago, I made the decision to also leave all those rules and works behind.  Doing that forced me to see myself for who I really was, and it left me raw and feeling extremely ashamed and vulnerable.  Praise God He has forgiven me and is healing me daily.

 

And now I realize that besides the most basic tenets of my faith, I don't really know what I believe or why I believe it.  What should church be like?  What version of the Bible is right?  Why does all of this matter anyway?  And so I am searching the answers for myself.  I am not relying on anyone else anymore to tell me how to think, what to wear, or what to do. 

 

It's just God and me on this journey together.  And somehow, I know He doesn't mind me asking all these "why" questions as I seek to make my faith my own. 



Boys Are Stupid

(disclaimer:  some potty words are used in the following post as well as the word stupid, which is just a bad as a potty word in our house.  you have been warned.)

Boys.  Before I ever had the privilege of being a momma to my children and in particular my two boys, I was a junior-high teacher.  I remember insects being put in the microwave, daring stunts performed without a thought or care to the danger of it all, and senseless destruction of books, papers, and pretty much anything those junior high boys could get their hands on.  I remember asking "Why?", "Why on earth?" and any other version of "Why?" you can think of.  Staring at their blank faces, I realized that they themselves had no idea why they were doing what they were doing, other than to drive their parents and myself to an early grave.  I formulated a theory that when puberty hit, so did stupidity.  It couldn't be helped.  Junior high girls were emotional and irrational;  junior high boys were stupid.

I thought that period of my life was over.  At least, until my boys hit that age, anyway.  But certain little "why?"s have been creeping their way into my daily dialogue lately:

"But why did you poop all over the laundry room floor?  The bathroom is right down the hall!!!  You had to have deliberately gone into the laundry room instead!  Why???????????????"

"Please tell me why you thought it was a good idea to rip every page out of your favorite book.  Are you seriously going to stand there and cry when I tell you that I can't read it to you tonight?  Why??????"

"What is that in your hand?  How did you get that water bottle when you are supposed to buckled in your booster seat?  And what is that pale yellow liquid in the bottle?  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh never mind......why??????????"

"I thought I just tightened up the waistband on those shorts.  Why do you keep tugging them up like that?  OH! I see you forgot to put on underwear today....oh, you didn't want to wear underwear today?  Why??????????"

"And what is that at the bottom of your shorts?  Who did that?  Where did you get a hold of a pair of scissors?  And why on earth would you cut up the hem of a perfectly good pair of shorts?  Why?????"

(said outside the men's bathroom at church)  "Hey buddy, are you done yet?  Hurry up, Momma's waiting and we need to get back to the service."  (I grab a passing man and ask him to go in and check on my son.  Yes, he is still alive.  No, he has no clothes on.)  "Come on, hurry and put your pants back on and come out, please."  (child comes out.  naked.  )  "Ooooookay then, let's hurry and get dressed.  Why did you take off all your clothes?"  (and why are so many people already out of the service and walking by while I dress my kid?????)  "Why??????"

I am quite sure that they don't know why.  It could be a part of some big conspiracy theory, which I would not put past the Spud.  But obviously focusing on the "why?"s of it all doesn't help the situation.

So I have come up with a long-term solution.  I am going to keep track of every single "why?" moment I have with these precious young men.  Someday, they are going to come to me with reasons why I should trust them to have a cell phone, go somewhere with their friends, or (gasp!!) drive.  It is then I will pull out my long list of "why?"s to demonstrate why not. 

After all, those junior high boys that fried a grasshopper in the microwave are now grown men, some married and even with children.  I'll consider this post a sort of public service announcement to girls everywhere.  Boys are stupid.  It's us that helps even it out, balance out the stupidity if you will. 

P.S.  I adore my silly boys.  I don't understand their shenanigans half the time, but boy do those guys have a firm grasp on my heart!