On this Holy Saturday, I can’t help but think of Jesus’ disciples, family, and close friends who had such love for and faith in Him.  They had seen Him perform miracle after miracle, and now He’s dead.  Surely they had prayed fervently for His deliverance as He suffered at the hands of the Roman soldiers.  No doubt they had pleaded with God to save Jesus as He hung tortured on the cross.  They heard the taunts of “He’s saved others, now let Him save Himself!” and in their hearts I imagine they must have agreed.   And yet, He died.  How devastated, confused, and completely grief stricken they must have been!

Even though we know the end of the crucifixion story, we too experience unexpected deaths–sometimes literally when someone we love dearly is diagnosed with cancer or some other incurable illness.  We’ve seen through eyes of faith the many miracles and healings of Jesus, so we cry out fervently to the Great Physician believing in His power to heal.  And yet, they die.

Or maybe the unexpected death is that of a hope or dream.  We find ourselves in what seems to be a near perfect scenario, one that honors God and fulfills deep desires within us.  We commit our lives fully to living for God’s glory in this relationship or calling, then suddenly, it’s over.  The dream is dead.

We, like those close to Jesus at the time of His death, find ourselves devastated, confused, and grief stricken.  We are often unsure what even to do next.  May we remember, as our brothers and sisters of old discovered, resurrection day is coming.

In the crushing, in the pressing, You are making new wine.

In the soil I now surrender; You are breaking new ground.

So I yield to You and to Your careful hand;

When I trust You I don’t need to understand.

Make me Your vessel.

Make me an offering.

Make me whatever You want me to be.

I came here with nothing, but all you have given me.

Jesus, bring new wine out of me.  (New Wine, by Hillsong Worship)

 

 

 

 

Observing Lent was not a part of my upbringing at First Baptist Church, Greenville, Alabama. As a result, I’m not very well-versed on what’s appropriate or inappropriate for a Lenten fast, which actually works to my advantage sometimes.  Like this year, for example.  This year I’ve really sensed the Lord leading me to do something that I’m pretty sure is not a normal Lenten fast thing to do.  Still, though, it’s something I need to do, and something I should have done long ago.  This year for Lent I’m trying really, really hard to give up my adult children.

As sweet as they are, giving up my children is not the same as doing without chocolate or Dr. Pepper for forty days. It’s much deeper and more difficult, at least it is for me. Giving up my children means letting go of my own pride and sense of self-sufficiency. It’s a true test of trust in the One Who has never ever failed me and will never ever fail my children. It requires faith, belief in that which has been promised but is, as of yet, still unseen.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  Philippians 1:6

What happens to our adult children when we truly stop our attempts to control them and, instead, trust our sovereign, loving God to guide their way? Four things come to mind right away:

1. At times, they will Fail. Yes, our adult children will make mistakes, just as we did when we left the comforts of our parents’ homes. Technology allows parents to remain connected longer and stronger than in the past, but we must agree to cut the cord. As our children make their own mistakes, they’ll learn from them and be stronger for having dealt with the consequences of poor choices on their own.
2. We must allow them to Live. While our children have been and remain important parts of our family units, their lives are not ours to live. In fact, their lives are for them to live as they choose with us parents cheering them on from the sidelines. We hope they will “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” but even if they don’t, we can trust that the One who created the stars and put them into space can and will not allow our children to fall outside of His Sovereign care.
3. As our adult kiddos endure failures and live their own lives (without us suffocating parental types,) those who know the Truth will begin to Yearn for the Lord God Himself more and more. Part of our new job as sideline cheerleaders for our adult kids is to pray, pray, pray and trust, trust, trust. They’ll learn from their own experience that God’s ways are best, and that His love for them is perfect in every way.
4. When we free adult children to make mistakes and decisions on their own without added guilt or unsolicited judgment from us; and as they begin to yearn for the Lord and seek Him more and more, we may need to move from the sidelines to box seats. Our adult children, by God’s grace, will begin to FLY!

So, that’s all well and good for our adult children. All’s well that ends well, right? But what about us? What happens to us as the nest empties?

• We’ll cry. After all, we’ve known them in most cases from birth. We’ve taught them how to function well in polite, adult society—or at least we’ve tried. We’ve taught them right from wrong—or at least we’ve tried. We’ve taught them to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength”—or at least we’ve tried. Separation from the way of life that once, not so long ago, was is painful and difficult, so it’s okay to cry.
• We’ll cry. As we turn them loose to live life the way they feel led to live it, they’ll make mistakes, some costly and painful, and we’ll cry with them. As believers we’re called to “mourn with those who mourn,” even when they’re our own children.  We aren’t called to scold, chastise, or judge. But it’s okay to cry with them. In fact, it’s biblical to cry with them, just as we would with any other adult friend in time of need. There will be many victories to celebrate with them along the way, but when failures and heartbreak come, we can and should cry with them.
• We’ll cry. “I have no greater joy than to know my children are walking in the truth.” God will continue to work in the hearts and minds of our adult children, especially as we grant them freedom to live outside of our old parental guidelines and expectations. The new trails God has for them are more beautiful than we can even imagine! As our adult children scale to new heights with their Heavenly Father, we will celebrate with tears of joy!

Giving my adult children up to the care of the Lord is proving to be more difficult than I had anticipated. “Mother knows best” is a nice saying, but it just ain’t true, y’all! The One Who created them has a plan for each of their lives that I do not have the eyes to see. The One Who puts breath in their lungs each day promises to heal their hurts and bind their broken hearts. My Band Aids and Neosporin barely touch the surface.  The One Who shared them with me for a season of intentional nurturing and care somehow loves them more than I even know how to love.

In this season of “letting go,” Gracious God, forgive my lack of faith. Forgive my prideful, self-sufficiency. Show me how to honor you in this changing season of parenting. Grant me strength to love and trust enough to let them go.  Give me wisdom to know when and how to continue to be available and supportive for their good and for your glory.

“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.” (Jude 1:24-25)