Life is a vapor. Leave a mark.
When a mom gives birth, she invites pain in multiple ways for a multitude of reasons. We welcome our children to this world only to let them go to start new families and pursue their futures. We spend so much energy being present that when it comes time to feel their absence, the change can be crushing. The solution is to grab God’s hand, sit at His feet, discover His joys for our lives, see Him clearly, and be near to Him. Be still. Look and know. And the heart will follow.
Hey kiddos, I have a thought for you and a warning. They contradict one another, but they also play off of one another in an important way.
First, here’s my thought: “There is no such thing as a second-generation Christian.” We hear the phrase second-generation Christians often in our circles. In one sense, the phrase reminds us of our rich heritage, and you kids have been gifted with a rich, godly heritage. Your great grandparents and grandparents and parents have laid a deep and sincere foundation of biblical living in front of you. But, no Christian is a Christian based on the generation before him. You know this. But…don’t forget this when you begin a family of your own. None of us can ride on the coattails of our previous generation. Your children need you to remember this! Christians don’t begat Christians.
Second, here’s my warning: “Third-generation Christians are in danger of being overexposed and underdeveloped.” And here is the seeming contradiction. Yes, I said there is no such thing as generation Christians. You’re right. So I will re-phrase it. Any Christian is in danger of being overexposed and underdeveloped. No matter your heritage. No matter your parents or grandparents or great grandparents position on biblical truth and faith. No matter how you spin today’s culture in your mind and heart to excuse shifts in standards and beliefs. No matter what circumstance God ordains for your life. None of these thoughts and realities is what makes you decide how you choose today to live and believe. You kiddos happen to be four generations strong…at least for now. Time will tell whether you remain true in your faith, courageous in your beliefs, and fervent in the gospel. Time will tell whether you continue to apply truth to life’s choices or fall for Satan’s tactics and let your guard down by allowing bits and pieces of error in your thinking and home. None of us can ride on the coattails of the previous generation of Christians.
You’ve heard much Bible in your lifetime. Your education through college, home, church, neighbors, and community saturated you with Bible truths. I’m so glad you did get the saturation; but, kiddos, you have to do your part in developing. God grows you, but you water and weed in the process. Remember again, none of us can ride on the coattails of anyone or anything. You are adults now so whatever Bible saturation you continue in your life is your choice. I can’t make those decisions for you. (This blog doesn’t even count since you still have to make the decision to read it.)
My heart’s desire for you is that you continue to walk in truth. Not out of duty to your heritage. Not out of a desire to make the parents happy. I pray God’s truth becomes your mantra today and tomorrow and for your lifetime.
Teaching is an art not for the faint of heart.
The classroom is a battleground for the minds of our next generation.
The good teacher fights the conflict. A great teacher motivates the student to fight the conflict.
If you are called to teach, you are a warrior fighting for the next generation.
The hardest part of the battle is choosing to love a child’s future enough to pick up the sword today.
Every delivery room has an orchestra of noises: groans, cries, screams, yells, songs, whispers, and cheers.
The cry of a heart, no matter the occasion, is universal. Recognized. Known. Understood. It runs deep and lands raw.
Joy or sorrow. Love or hate.
Mercy or bitterness. Fight or fright.
The mother in the backdrop story lost her child, and her heart cried. The mother in the blackout poem gained a child, and her heart cried. It’s the music of living.
The concerts of life flow from the rhythm of our hearts. It is a beautiful and gut-wrenching sound that brings depth and meaning to our life. Live and love hard. Moments make music.
Vapormarks