Just hold on, our Lord will show up

And He will take you through the fire again!

…Trust the hand of God, He’ll shield the flames again.

Facing Life’s Questions

So many times I’ve questioned certain circumstances

Things I could not understand.

Every song I sing has lyrics centered on a strong gospel message, although the sounds are similar to musical genres that are popular today. Sometimes those familiar styles open doors to exciting and unexpected opportunities to sing outside of mainstream gospel circles.

I’m jazzed by invitations to take part in nontraditional gospel events. One such invite led to the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, a place like no other in the world. Just being on that stage is an honor; how that particular night played out—well, it added to my amazement and demonstrated God’s willingness to use unusual circumstances in the fulfillment of His will.

Talk about irony! The sponsor of our portion of that night’s program was a watering hole in Nashville. You heard me right; our segment was sponsored by a bar—and what an amazing night it turned out to be. From that iconic stage I was privileged to share a

testimony that was fresh in my heart.

“Through the Fire” was part of my testimony that night. Like all my dad’s songs, it speaks to experiences that are common to all people. The song has run like a thread through the fabric of my own life. I told the audience at the Grand Ole Opry as much,

explaining how the song had ministered to Shellye and me during a painful season.

It was a poignant moment when I shared how God had brought us through the trauma of losing two precious babies in separate miscarriages. Although the shock of those losses was still fresh in our thoughts, fresher still was the miracle of God in bringing our season of heartbreak to an end. That night—February 14, 2003—I had the pleasure of sharing breaking news from our house: Shellye and I had just experienced the birth of our first child! Our daughter, Ashleigh Taylor, had been born the day before, and she and her

momma were doing just fine.

After the audience heard our songs and our testimony about Ashleigh’s birth, a woman stopped us outside the auditorium. Like most everyone else at the Opry, she had come to hear the music. But God had more than music in mind for her. With tears streaming

down her face, she said, “I didn’t have any idea I was coming here for this tonight, but I rededicated my life to God—right here at the Grand Ole Opry—sponsored by a bar!”

Life doesn’t always follow the script that makes sense to us. That was true for this woman, and it was true of our miscarriages. The birth of Ashleigh had come after many long days of testing and trial. So many times the dream of raising a family seemed bound

in thick layers of impossibility. Yet deep down, Shellye and I knew that we were not alone in the fight. God’s Word told us so. Many nights the Scriptures comforted and strengthened us. We had His assurance that He would bring us through:

When you pass through the waters,

I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers,

they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire,

you will not be burned;

the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the Lord, your God.

—Isaiah 43:2–3

Shellye and I walked through some fire. Yet God brought us out and blessed us—radically! Today we have two daughters, Ashleigh Taylor and Emmaleigh Love. They are as beautiful as can be, just like their mother. I will tell you more about them later, but first let me tell you about the love of my life.

My Cowgirl

My earliest awareness of Shellye came when someone brought me a picture of her and said, “You’ve got to meet this girl.”

My reaction was, “Yeah, she’s kind of cute. Yeah, I’d like to meet her.”

I guess I played down my curiosity in front of my friend, but I thought the girl in the picture was beautiful. Little did I know that someone had shown that beautiful girl a picture of me. It was a shot from the album Looking Ahead, a record our family made

even before we started singing full-time. I had a crazy hairdo at the time—a comb-over with a curl that dropped right down the center of my forehead. My hairstyle looked like a 1950s throwback. Shellye wasn’t impressed.

Her reaction was actually stronger than that. She looked at the photo and said, “No way. I don’t think I’d like him at all.”

She then pointed to my curl, saying, “I don’t know about that.”

Sometime later, the Crabb Family was invited by Kentucky Educational Television (KET) to be part of an outdoor concert in Rosine, Kentucky, the home of bluegrass and the birthplace of Bill Monroe, the man known to this day as the Father of Bluegrass

Music.1 KET asked us to sing for a documentary they were making about Kentucky music.

Friends had told me ahead of time that Shellye planned to come and see me at the concert. Things didn’t go exactly according to plan, however. She and her folks arrived after our set was over. We were headed off the stage when I spotted Shellye getting out of a car.

I never took my eyes off her; I watched her walk across the field and toward the stage. I might not be able to tell you what Shellye wore yesterday, but I can tell you exactly what she was wearing in Rosine. She cut straight across that field in blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and roper boots.

Shellye was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She looked even more beautiful than her picture. My heart skipped a beat—maybe two—and I remember thinking, “Well, I’ve got me a little cowgirl with long, curly hair.”

I wasn’t the only one who noticed Shellye. Our drummer asked, “Who is that?”

I said, “Let’s go meet her.”

“Yeah, I want to meet her,” he said.

We talked to Shellye for a while. Then it hit me: I didn’t need to help the drummer get to know Shellye; I needed to head him off at the pass! Just as quick as you can bat an eye, I asked her, “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m going to church,” she replied.

“Well, good, because I’m going with you.” I didn’t ask her if I could accompany her; I just told her we were going to church together. It was bold, but it was OK with Shellye.

She was comfortable knowing that her stepmom knew me. In fact, her stepmom was Kathy’s cousin. So, I wasn’t a complete stranger, and church seemed like a safe first date.

In the meantime, we tried to get out of the blistering heat. The only place that was even slightly cooler than that hot Kentucky field was the inside of our old GMC bus. It was our family’s first bus, and it burned almost as much oil as it did gas. It wasn’t pretty, but

it had places to sit and offered shelter from the sun. It even had a recliner that we had installed for on-the-road comfort.

Shellye sat in the recliner, and I stood in the stairwell. We just talked and talked until it was night. By the time we left for church, one thing was certain: our meeting was no accident. The hours I spent with Shellye were like nothing I had ever experienced. We

were clearly drawn to one another and found it easy to talk and laugh together. It sounds like a cliché, but we felt almost as though we had known each other for some time.

That night, Shellye and I went to church. At some point, I learned that she was seeing someone, but the relationship was not serious. The next day, the fellow Shellye had dated called her before I did. She refused to come to the phone. She had already decided that she didn’t want to talk to anyone but me.

When I finally called, it was Shellye’s turn to be bold. She asked me whether I was coming over and said she wanted to see me again. I didn’t have to think twice about my answer. I just said, “I’ll come over.”

When I got to Shellye’s house, she and her twin sister answered the door. Seeing the two of them caught me by surprise, but I got over it. There was no doubt in my mind: there was only one Shellye, and she was the girl for me.

The memories of those days are strong. The slightest reminder can trigger my senses and transport me back in time. During our courtship, I made it a habit to pick up some watermelon gum and a Dr. Pepper on my way to Shellye’s house. To this day, the

sight, smell, or taste of either one affects us, and each year the first October breeze reminds us of the day we met.

My Better Half

Years ago, I prayed and asked God to bring the right woman into my life. I knew it was important to find not just a good woman but the right woman. God answered my prayers. Shellye is everything I need and everything I am not. She helps me to remain rooted

in what matters. She helps me to strike a healthy balance between family and ministry. She helps me to stay grounded when I’m on the road.

Shellye is an amazing wife and mother and the perfect helpmate. Of course, she is much more than that. Ask anyone about Shellye, and they will tell you that she is a rock. In fact, that’s what they call her: the rock. She is content in life. She is comfortable with our

roles and all they entail. She is supportive of me while at the same time fulfilled as a stay-at-home mom. Her deep contentment brings me peace. I know that when I’m on the road, I don’t have to worry about her or my kids. Shellye has it all in hand.

Not everyone who travels enjoys the kind of homecomings I do. Not every spouse can deal with the things Shellye takes in stride. Keeping the home fires burning is not a chore for my wife. When I return from a stint on the road, I enter a home bubbling over with

warmth and love. It is inviting and reassuring and demonstrates Shellye’s wholeness. Her joy is a great blessing to our family. As a man,

I can’t imagine a better home life than the one I’ve got. As a father, I can’t imagine a better mother for Ashleigh and Emmaleigh.

One of my favorite pastimes is watching Shellye and our girls interact. She’s got a way about her that brings tears to my eyes. Whatever the activity, Shellye is right beside them. When they are learning their Scripture memory verses, Shellye is there. Already,

Ashleigh can quote nine verses of a psalm at a single clip, in part because Shellye is so supportive. As a mom, she is dedicated to helping both our daughters succeed in their endeavors.

Not that being a full-time mom is easy, especially when your husband travels as much as I do. Shellye is the nightly homework helper, the daily taxi, the resident chef, and keeper of all things domestic. Yet she relishes her life. She sincerely enjoys shuttling the girls to and from school and cheerleading practice—and not as a drive-by mother, either. Shellye is very involved at our girls’ school and finds ways to contribute and be a blessing to the staff and faculty.

As a life partner, Shellye is my perfect match, emotionally and otherwise. I value her opinion. She is smart, objective, wise, and knows me better than anybody else does. When questions arise as to the direction of ministry or the choice of songs for an album

or which producer or record company is right, I know I can go to Shellye for straightforward, reliable input.

Being transparent and at ease in our conversation is something we have been able to do since that first day in Rosine. There are no egos in the way. We just keep it simple and honest. That freedom allows us to grow individually and as a couple. After a two-andone-

half-hour concert, Shellye will say, “Honey, that set was too long.” I don’t try to convince her that a one-hundred-fifty-minute concert is a great idea. I take my wife’s advice seriously; I know she has my best interests at heart. At the same time, she knows I trust her and won’t be offended by the truth. In the end, if you can’t tell each other the truth, you have to wonder how solid your relationship really is.

One of the reasons Shellye and I came together in the first place has to do with transparency. At the very beginning, it was clear that Shellye loved me for who I was and not what I did. It wasn’t about the music, the recognition, or anything like that. In fact,

when we first fell in love, she didn’t know the extent of my musical and ministry life.

Shellye liked me as I was. As a result, she brought out the best in me. I had experienced relationships that lacked that kind of truth. In school, everyone had their crush and their reasons. I was a country kid with no fancy home or cars or anything to draw attention

to me. I wasn’t very popular with the girls. In fact, they usually gave me the brush-off. They weren’t interested in me—at least, not until I sang at a school variety show. Then, all of a sudden, the girls noticed me. Suddenly, I was in demand.

He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord.

—Proverbs 18:22

Shellye did not operate that way. She loved me first and learned about what I did afterward. We were blessed in that when we started our relationship, we truly loved each other. We weren’t drawn by illusions or impressions or any other distractions. That has proved to be a good foundation for the rest of our life together.

Shellye’s Testimony: It’s Not About Me

I met Jason in Rosine, Kentucky, when I was sixteen years old. In all of Kentucky, I may have been the only person who hadn’t heard of the Crabb Family. All I knew was that my stepmom and my father were taking me to a concert. There was a guy there my stepmom

wanted me to meet.

Moments after I met Jason, he asked me, “What are you doing tonight?”

I said, “I’m going to church.”

Without the slightest hesitation, he said, “I’m going with you”— which he did!

That is where our relationship began. We hit it off from the start, but since we lived seventeen miles apart, it wasn’t easy getting to see one another. Not only that, but Jason was on the road a lot. Often he would come in during the middle of the week, wake up

at six in the morning, and drive over to Central City, where I lived. He would take me to school and return in the evening to pick me up and take me home.

Just about every time Jason came to get me, I would ask him, “What should we do tonight?”

Jason’s answer was always the same: “We’ve got to put up posters.”

The posters let everyone know when the Crabb Family would be singing. Once each month, they gave a concert in Owensboro, Kentucky. It took lots of posters to get the word out. That is how we spent most of our dates. And since the Owensboro concerts

happened every month, we were never done hanging posters. Jason and I dated for three years. In 1997, I graduated from high school, and on May 12, 1998, Jason and I got married in my home church. I was nineteen, and he was twenty-one. Our backgrounds

were very similar; my parents divorced when I was only four years old, and my dad raised me; my twin sister, Kellye; and our older sister, Leslie.

Because my dad worked on the railroad and was gone a lot of the time, my grandmother lived with us and cared for us kids. She was very involved with my sisters and me and played a very significant role in our lives. So did Dad. He worked really hard to make a living for all of us. My dad and grandmother did a great job raising us—and they made sure we were in church every time the doors opened!

After two years of marriage, Jason and I learned that I was pregnant. We were scared, yet excited. Starting a family was something we both wanted very much. But almost as soon as our dream was underway, it was threatened. Early in the pregnancy, I started having complications. Soon afterward, I had a miscarriage. Jason and I were devastated to lose our baby. We couldn’t understand why this had happened to us.

About a year and a half later, I got pregnant again. Our hopes were high, but we lost that baby too. It hit us hard. I remember asking the Lord over and over again to give me the strength to get through the ordeal. He did.

Yet getting through the miscarriages was only part of the process. For so long I struggled with the loss of our babies and the disappointment that followed. At times I almost questioned God; I wanted to ask Him why He allowed everyone but us to have babies.

The loss of our children did not make sense to me. Still, I kept praying. At some point I realized that my focus was centered on me and what I wanted. I was preoccupied with the way I thought things should turn out. What I really needed was to get to the point where it wasn’t about me.

Through prayer and dedication, I eventually got to where I needed to be. It wasn’t about us anymore. It was about what God wanted for our lives. The day came when I could agree with the psalmist who said, “Not to us, O Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness” (Ps. 115:1).

Emotionally and spiritually, the change in perspective was dramatic. It not only kept us grounded in our trust of the Lord, but it also helped Jason and me to mature. Needless to say, our growth in this area was not easy; we were being stretched and tested. When you are in a situation like we were in, you sometimes wonder whether it will ever end.

Then one day, God spoke to me! He promised me a child. His promise did not come about right away, yet I knew I had heard His voice. And I knew He was faithful.

Shellye’s Testimony: Look to the Future

When Jason is onstage, he often tells the story of an evangelist friend who told us to buy a box of Pampers—before we had even conceived. The man’s name is Jay Boyd. Jason has known him since childhood when Jason and his family attended Jay’s revival meetings. Jason played drums for Jay at some point, and they have kept in touch over the years. The way Jason tells it, Jay could preach wallpaper right off the walls. I don’t doubt it. Jay is fearless about saying whatever he believes God wants said.

We bought that box of Pampers. Every day it served as a reminder that our promise was on its way. It was a tangible symbol of God’s promise and involvement in our lives,much as the watch from Pastor Parsley is symbolic of God’s faithfulness in Jason’s transition

to solo ministry.

This pastor encouraged us to be proactive in our faith, thanking God in advance for the blessing of our children. Doing that forced us to take our focus off the past. Jason and I set our sights on what was yet to come. Before six months went by, I was pregnant again!

This time, I knew everything was going to be fine. In fact, there was not a single doubt in my mind. I just started thanking God for our baby, knowing that He was taking care of us.

He was and still is taking care of us—all four of us! Now, when I look back to the years before the births of Ashleigh Taylor and Emmaleigh Love, I understand why things happened the way they did. The Lord has shown me, and continues to show me, the good

that came out of our trial. Night after night, women with similar heartaches come to our table. They are hurting and wondering why, just as we were during those hard years. Now we have precious opportunities to minister to them. And because we walked through the same flames, these women realize that they can come through the fire too.

God is faithful. He will comfort others as He comforted us! He will help others to understand the things He helped us to understand. They too will come out of the fire knowing that “ . . . neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38–39). In His wisdom and because of our experiences, God has given us a special way to share His love.

There is one other thing God showed me after our trial ended. I learned that trials are often one part why and an equal part when. It is clear to me now that when Jason and I first conceived, it was not the right time for us. The first five years of our marriage helped

us to draw close and build a stronger bond between us. God had something in mind for that season, and it wasn’t children.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

—Jeremiah 29:11

Through the struggle, we continued to minister. At times, when Shellye and I were on the bus, I’d look over at her and see tears in her eyes. Those tears did the talking even when no words were exchanged.

There was a question in my wife’s tears. The question was, “Why?” To this day, I really can’t say why Shellye and I endured the devastation of miscarriages. At this point, I’m not sure I need to know. I do know this: our experiences have helped us to bless others. So many people suffer the heartbreak of losing a baby. The numbers are staggering. In fact, depending upon the statistical source, as many as one out of four women suffer a miscarriage.

There are a lot of hurting people behind those numbers. For Shellye and me, it is easy to relate to them. We know what it is like to lose a child. It is hard—really hard. Yet even in the midst of our losses, we were not without hope. Nor was I without a voice. I just

kept singing “Through the Fire” and “Still Holding On.” I knew I could trust God to show up and carry me past the pain again.

Those two songs encouraged Shellye and me when we needed it most. It was as though God was saying, “I am faithful, and I will continue to be faithful.” He was giving us, through whatever means necessary, the strength to heed the words David wrote during his

own desperate times: “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord” (Ps. 31:24).

God used those songs to renew our hope and refresh our souls. He used people too. Shellye told you about Jay Boyd and the Pampers. Jay knew my family for years. His and my dad’s relationship dated back before the Crabb Family Singers to the days when my dad was a minister. I remember Jay in the pulpit—the man could preach! I am thankful that our relationship has continued throughout the years.

Jay told Shellye and me to thank God for the promise before it came to pass. He said we needed to do what the Bible says and call “things that are not as though they were” (Rom. 4:17). We needed to be like the men who tore the roof off a building because they believed Jesus would heal the paralyzed man they brought to Him (Mark 2:1–12). We needed to be like Jairus trusting Jesus, even in the worst circumstances (Mark 5:22–43). We needed to come to the place where no matter the setbacks we would remain focused on the love and power of God to bless and heal.

All of Christianity is built on that kind of faith. It is the faith that says, “When doubt comes, we’ll praise Him. When life comes apart at the seams, we’ll praise Him. No matter the outcome, we’ll praise Him. Whether the promise comes to pass or it doesn’t, we’ll praise Him.”

That last one is a tough nut to crack. It means selling out to God to such a degree that your dreams are not as important as the fact that you are His. It took Shellye and me time to get there. We were not satisfied with the outcome of two miscarriages. We were not

satisfied to be childless. I won’t kid you; after the second miscarriage,

I threw my hands in the air and said, “God, I may not be the greatest father, but I will be a grateful father.”

In the midst of an ordeal like that, there are moments when you feel hopeless and unable to push past the sorrow. We often minister to people who feel exactly that way. Our hearts break for them, because we understand. We are so privileged to pray for them. How blessed we are to hear their testimonies afterward! Some of them write us to say that they have given birth. Others are ecstatic when they tell us that God answered their prayers through adoption. Still, I know that some of them have yet to see their dreams fulfilled.

For those who have had miscarriages, there is good news: your babies are in heaven. So are our babies. As hard as it was to lose them, I get excited to think that someday Ashleigh and Emmaleigh will meet their siblings in heaven!

At some distant day, all six of us will be there together.

It is not easy to be strong and take heart when things happen in defiance of God’s promises. In those crushing moments, it is hard to know what to think or how to respond. Should we trust in silence and ignore our doubts? Or should we deny our emotions, as though we were not in turmoil?

Our responses to difficulty have a lot to do with how we were raised and what we have been told about God. Some people say we should never, ever question God. Yet some of the greatest leaders and prophets in all of history have asked Him tough questions.

When Abraham learned of God’s plan to investigate the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham pressed God to share His intentions. He wanted to know whether God would kill his nephew Lot and Lot’s family along with the depraved. Abraham asked God point-blank, “Will you sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” (Gen. 18:23). He continued to press God until God assured him that the handful of righteous people living in the forsaken place would be spared (Gen. 18:24–32).

Life is full of questions. Not all of them are as pressing as our questions about death, suffering, and loss. Yet, even if we had never experienced a day of adversity, we would ask our Father the curious questions children always ask their parents:

• “How many stars are in the sky?”

• “Why is grass green?”

• “Why do we park in the driveway and drive on the

parkway?”

• “Why is my last name Crabb?” (Imagine how much

adversity a name like that can generate at school!)

• “Why…what…how…when…where?”

My point is this: if you have taken oxygen into your lungs, you know that life is marked by trials and heartaches. We experience circumstances we don’t understand and don’t want to embrace. We have questions and will continue to have questions as long as we are breathing, and maybe even after that. Who is better able to answer us than God? He wasn’t surprised by Abraham’s questions, and He won’t be surprised by ours.

I have met people in all kinds of situations. Often I can almost hear their hearts asking, “Why, God?” Recently I prayed with a woman in the Midwest. She wanted me to ask God to help her keep her new job. She said, “I have an incurable disease.”

She lost her health insurance when she took the new job. That sounds like trouble enough for someone with an incurable disease. Yet she feared something worse. She feared being without work. She had a family to support and was worried about getting fired. I got the sense that she was a single parent. Whatever her status, she was obviously under a lot of pressure and had decided to make choices designed to improve her lot. She believed her new job would open a fresh chapter in her life.

She summed up her thoughts by saying something unforgettable: “I have to get back to living.”

As the tears streamed down her cheeks, I started praying for words of encouragement, something God would have her hear. In my mind, I imagined the questions piercing her heart.

“Am I going to make it?”

“Will I lose my job?”

“Am I going to die?”

“Will they find a cure for this disease, or will God heal me?”

Then I asked this dear woman a question: “Do you believe that God can heal you?”

“I am trying to,” she said. “I’m going to church and hanging on to every word the preacher says.”

Although her unanswered questions lingered, I knew she would be all right when she said, “I have to get back to living.” Her life had been as tough as nails, but she was not about to give up. Nor was she willing to accept the bleak picture the devil was trying to

present to her.

We must never forget that the devil is a liar. Lying is his stock and trade. Therefore it is up to us to take the offense where he and his lies are concerned. When he tempts me, I like to ask myself this question: What if Satan had to tell the truth about himself,

about God, and about our destinies? What kind of picture would he paint then? How successful would he be at killing, stealing, and destroying lives if he could suggest nothing but truth?

The answer is that he would fail miserably at deceiving us. Unfortunately, truth is not the enemy’s hallmark. He continues to seek those “he may devour” (1 Pet. 5:8, kjv.) The sense I got from the woman who wanted to get back to living was that she refused to be devoured by a liar. She was determined to keep moving forward. I like to see that kind of tenacity. People like her are hard to forget. In fact, I will never forget her or that altar service.

There are so many memories like that. The people we meet touch our hearts as much as we do theirs, if not more. I remember an outdoor concert from some years ago, before “Through the Fire” was completed. In fact, at the time, Dad had only part of the song

worked out. He had started it at the piano, but after a year, he was still stuck; the rest of the song just wouldn’t come together.

We had a product table at the concert. On that particular day, Dad was behind the table, and I was standing nearby. A woman walked up to Dad with a child in her arms. The woman asked Dad, “When you get back on the bus, will you pray for me? My son needs an operation, and my husband just left me.” We prayed for her right there.

A prayer request like that can take your breath away. Yet this woman showed great strength; as she turned to walk away, she reminded us about faith’s bottom line. Her last words to us were, “I’m still trusting in the Lord that He’s going to help me through all this.”

Her parting words were as riveting as her prayer request. We were reminded once again that there is always someone who is going through something worse than what we are experiencing. God used her to put our lives and issues into clear perspective.

That night Dad wrote the rest of “Through the Fire.”

TRUE RELIGION

I believe God wants us all to live bothered by things around us that are not right. The world is a broken place, and He has put you and me here to make it whole. Possibly the most important indicator of true religion is the desire to love and care for people who hurt.

Trues

Some friends told me about a brand of jeans that are popular with the Hollywood crowd and the fabulously rich; they’re called True Religion. I stopped and looked at them in a store the other day—the

price tag read $348. That might become your religion if you spent so much on jeans, but that certainly is not true religion.

Jesus’ brother James said it like this: “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless [true religion] is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress.”

Can I just say if I were to ever spend $348 on a pair of jeans, then I’ve lost all bearing on life? Seriously, if children in Malawi are being chained to trees because there’s not enough food to go around, or if Africa is filled with children living bare naked because they have no clothes … then how on earth could I make any sense of spending $348 on jeans?

True religion is more about others and less about me. Living out true religion means I’ve stopped being so concerned about what I want and what I get, and I spend my days caring about what others don’t have and what others need. The Christian life is meant to be that way.

Jesus explained true religion like this: “Whenever you feed the hungry, clothe the poor, give water to the thirsty, visit the imprisoned, or loved the unloved—you love Me!”

My favorite introspective writer, Brennan Manning, observes, “Jesus spent a disproportionate amount of time with people described in the gospels as: the poor, the blind, the lame, the lepers, the hungry,

sinners, prostitutes, tax collectors, the persecuted, the downtrodden, the captives, those possessed by unclean spirits, all who labor and are heavy burdened, the rabble who know nothing of the law, the

crowds, the little ones, the least, the last, and the lost sheep of the house of Israel…. In short, Jesus hung out with ragamuffins.”

So, in the name of Jesus, give your life away to love people who hurt! God wants everyday people like you and me to be His hands and feet. So go! Love the marginalized, free the oppressed, show mercy to the hurting, give to the poor, feed the hungry, love the orphans and the widows, and take good news to the lost.

Margins

Jesus always seemed to notice when people were pushed into the margins. They are still there today. But too often they are the invisible ones. We pass them and don’t know their names. We don’t stop to ask about their pain. They are the forgotten ones.

Jesus lived bothered by abuse, injustice, and oppression.

On one occasion He happened upon a crowd of men planning the stoning of a woman accused of adultery. Jesus’ eyes pierced the men surrounding the shamed woman. She stood guilty of adultery and infidelity. But Christ stood close. His fists were clenched, His words were curt: “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.”

The silence was deafening. He slowly bent down and wrote with his finger. Were they words of compassion he wrote? Was it a line from the Torah? Theologians have debated the words in the sand for centuries. Personally, I believe he wrote this: “The first one of you who dares to throw a rock at this beautiful woman … I will personally beat you down!” Okay, I’m probably wrong, but I like the thought, and I might be close. I feel this way because His attitude toward injustice was always—NO WAY! Not on my watch; not as long as I am here.

This must be our attitude as well. We must develop a moral conscience. Injustice should gnaw at our soul. Begin to be bothered by situations that are not right. Start speaking up when things are not right. This is what the Lord requires of His followers.

We all need to live a bit more bothered when something is wrong with this world.

Moral Dilemmas

Christians talk much about conversion and change. An important aspect of the change that must take place in the believer’s life is moral transformation. All people are created with a moral dimension to their human personality. In much the same way we grow and change physically, we also develop morally.

Donal Dorr, who writes extensively on the need for a balanced faith, one that addresses issues of justice, says we need a moral conversion. Because sometimes Christians have a conversion of the intellect, but their soul remains calloused to what is not right in this world.

Harvard University professor Lawrence Kohlberg developed the idea of Stages of Moral Development. He explains that people develop morally in stages.5 For example, children do not understand or comprehend justice the way adults should; that’s why two-year old always say, “Mine!” We’re supposed to outgrow that.

The problem is that as Christians we often only teach moral knowledge. But unfortunately, moral knowledge does not always lead to moral action. The moral conscience can be scarred, callused, or ignored. For example, the religious leaders of Jesus’ day knew the Hebrew Bible inside and out, yet Jesus said if they were to see a bleeding man on the side of the road they would walk on by. Their spirituality was not true religion.

The ancient Jewish prophet Micah wrote about true religion, religion that makes the heart of God smile: “He has shown you all people what is good, and what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.”

Jesus described his own purpose and mission as this: “He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed.”

I would argue then that moral transformation often comes when we are willing to step outside our places of comfort and safety and not just think morally but do morally. When you give yourself away to the world, when you live out your religion as God intended, you open your life to being stunned by God and having your moral character transformed.

The world is filled with places and actions that are unjust and oppressive. A primary Christian duty is to put an end to these practices. Live convinced that you can change what is wrong in this world and make it just a little bit more beautiful.

Unsilenced

My friend Scott Erickson, who paints the images that are branded on his heart from his travels to Cameroon, says he paints so that his art becomes a voice for all in Africa who have been silenced.

Part of our Christian duty is to become a prophetic voice. By this I mean you and I speaking out, as did the ancient Jewish prophets, against practices that are not right.

The work of Brazilian educator Paulo Freire has revolutionized the way Christian educators talk about our moral duty. Frustrated with Brazil’s oppressive educational system, Freire began promoting the idea of conscientization.

Conscientization is the process by which people become aware of practices around them that are dehumanizing. People must first realize their oppression before they can confront it and overcome it.

Liberation comes through conscientization. The more people understand their oppression, the more they become human. And once the marginalized can name and verbalize the oppression, they become empowered to take part in confronting, speaking out against, and reshaping that reality.

But you don’t have to go to the Democratic Republic of Congo or Sudan to see oppressive practices that need your voice.

The first time I passed a sheriff’s chain gang in Arizona, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Women in prison-striped uniforms hoeing weeds … chained at the ankles, with shotgun-toting deputies standing watch. I was shocked. It looked like a scene from 1950s rural America.

My soul ached to the gut. Yes, these women may have committed crimes that deserve incarceration—but not this dehumanizing humiliation. I hurt for them. I wanted to cry for them. My thought was, “Palmer, you must do something …” So I hung a U and got out. I approached the deputy and asked if he would give a message to the sheriff. He listened patiently as I said, “Please tell your sheriff that in Chandler, we do not want women humiliated. In Chandler, we believe that every person should be treated with dignity and respect. In Chandler, we want this practice stopped.” He was kind enough to say he would pass my message along.

All human beings have great worth. Regardless of race, gender, ability, wealth, religion, or nationality, all people deserve dignity and respect. This is not only a Christian argument or position. This is a

moral position. To publicly humiliate another person is immoral and unjust. It’s wrong at every level.

Who among us would stand idly by while a person maliciously scarred da Vinci’s Mona Lisa with graffiti? We would scream NO! Stop!—we would take action because this painting is deemed beautiful and priceless. How much more beautiful and priceless is the life of a woman—even one in chains!

The Christian today must be aware of the pain that society, consciously or unconsciously, imposes on people. The suffering is real, it hurts, and it’s time to stop it.

Respond

Solomon, in his great wisdom, explained that empathizing with those who hurt is not enough: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.”

About twenty of us Chinchens were standing under the shade of a giant tree at Disneyworld trying to decide where to head next when just a few feet away I noticed a young couple arguing loudly. I turned just in time to watch him raise his hand high and slap her hard across the face.

I couldn’t believe what I just witnessed. Without thinking, I reacted by grabbing him from behind.… Okay, I realize this was not a pastoral response, but I’ve got some Scotch-Irish in my blood.

“What are you thinking?! You can’t hit her,” I blurted out.

“She was asking for it,” he mumbled, still in my grip.

“Well, not here,” I stated with conviction. “Never, ever again will you hit her. Is that clear?”

I’m not sure if it was the headlock or my convincing words, but he agreed.

Anywhere in the world, slapping a woman is despicable … especially at the happiest place on earth!

~~~~~

As I said earlier, Christian morality is not simply about having good judgment on issues of right and wrong; it’s more about moral action—doing what it right.

In the late 1960s, John Darley and Bibb Latane were the first researchers to do extensive studies on the psychological phenomenon of noninvolvement, or why people fail to help when someone is in distress.

Darley and Latane found several reasons why bystanders will simply watch a person drown, for example, and do nothing. One is stage fright: “I may appear foolish if they really do not need help.” Another reason is risk: “They may pull me under, and I may drown with them.” Still another reason is deferred involvement: “If others are not helping, I guess I don’t need to help.”

Here’s what’s most bizarre. The more people present, the less likely it becomes that someone will help! Researchers have put children on the streets of both cities and small towns and had them say to passing strangers, “I’m lost. Can you help me?” People in cities like New York kept walking. I’m not kidding. People in small towns were far more likely to help. Their finding was that it’s better to be desperate in a small town with fewer people than in a city, especially New York, with many passersby.

We can live a lifetime that way. We can see pictures of women chained to trees as slaves in Sudan and say, “That’s sad. I’m sure the U.N. will put a stop to that.” Or we can watch CNN and see men eating dirt out of cans in Malawi to ease their hunger pangs and think, “That’s not good. I’m sure World Vision will ship in some rice.” We do this never realizing the responsibility may be ours!

~~~~~

I was glad to be getting out of Kenya. The county had been going through months of civil unrest. For the first time in decades, Kenya had become a place of violence. Neighbors who had lived for years peacefully next door to one another were now turning on each other because of tribal differences. The mood of the country surprised even Kenyans.

I woke up early to catch my flight to Monrovia and left my hotel by six thirty. But as my taxi driver went past Nairobi’s central park, it was already filling with riot police and water-cannon trucks. In spite of the government’s objections, a new political party was planning demonstrations for this day, and no one expected them to be peaceful. I was really glad to be getting out of Kenya.

We made our way onto the four-lane road that leads to the Nairobi airport and were doing about sixty when suddenly the minivan in front of us abruptly changed lanes, striking the rear quarter panel of a minibus to its left. The minibus was packed full of passengers, at least a dozen. The minibus swerved left, then right, then violently flipped onto its side. It skidded before rolling up onto its roof, which immediately collapsed.

I have to be honest—when I saw the minibus full of people crash onto its roof, my first thought was, “Let’s get out of Kenya. Riots are coming. If you stop you may miss your flight. The road is busy with cars; of course others will stop to help. Palmer, you don’t have to get involved.”

But of all thoughts, in that nano-moment, my mind raced back twenty-plus years to the memory of Mike driving past the upsidedown taxi. And I remembered my promise: I will live differently.

“Driver, stop the car!” I shouted with urgency. We both jumped out running. He was a Christian too; we had been listening to praise songs in Swahili.

The collapsed roof had smashed every window in the van. The openings were now barely wide enough to pull people out. Others joined as we took people by their arms or legs and eased them through the shattered glass. Within just a couple of minutes everyone was out. Some had minor cuts or bruises to their heads, but miraculously no one appeared critically injured.

Just as I was feeling relieved, my driver shouted, “They’re beating the other driver.” I turned to see a mob attacking the driver who had caused the accident. Some were kicking him in the head, others

punching, some throwing huge stones.

In Africa they call it mob justice. If you hit a pedestrian with your car, the mob will beat you to death. If you steal a shirt off a neighbor’s clothesline, the mob will chase you and beat you to death. It’s become a senseless form of law enforcement that, unfortunately, unemployed young men seem to take pleasure in.

With my driver shouting at the mob in Swahili, I ran into the midst. Pushing to the middle I dropped to my knees and bent over the man to protect him from the blows. A thought flashed through my head—“I hope they don’t turn on me.” Strangely, I did not feel afraid. I sensed that a man was dying and I had to do whatever I could to save his life.

I looked up as one man buried his foot in the man’s side and clasped my hands together, a sign of pleading, and yelled, “Palebe, palebe!” (In Chechewa, the national language of Malawi, where

I had just been the day before, this means please. But now I was in Kenya where they speak Swahili.) They seemed to know what I meant. Their faces were still filled with rage, but the kicking and punching stopped. The stones were dropped.

The angry men continued to argue with my driver in Swahili (he later translated): “We want to kill him. He’s a fool. He deserves to die!”

My driver was adamant in return, “No, you will not.”

The man had been struck hard on the back of the head by a cement block. He was unconscious when I first bent over him. I held his head and began to say, “You have to get up, you can’t stay here, they want to kill you.” He regained consciousness, and I helped him sit up. I rubbed the debris from the back of his head and finally helped him to his feet. I waited till the mob dispersed.

Just the day before I had been feeling sorry for myself because during this particular trip to Africa I had missed my wedding anniversary, I had missed my son’s eighteenth birthday, and I had missed a large weeklong event at my church. But as we drove the rest of the way to the Nairobi Airport the thought hit me that maybe this was the only place God wanted me. Because if God used me to save just one man’s life, then it was worth everything I had left behind.

I’m not a hero, just a Christ-follower trying to do what I encourage others to do.

Give your life away.

Pour it into people.

Souls last forever.

Ideas for Becoming the Expatriate

Rent more movies with subtitles. France, India, and Japan, for example, are producing an increasing number of good films that rarely make it into American theatres.

©2010 Cook Communications Ministries. True Religion by Palmer Chinchen. Used with permission. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

In the Garden of Grace

She stood behind the open door, her eyes fixed on the English missionaries who had come to visit her in-laws. Hidden from view, she stared at their gentle faces and felt deep sobs welling up from a place inside she did not care to reveal, not even to herself. No, I can’t entertain the hope I see in these people. How could I have possibly arrived at such a despicable life, with no way of escape? Trapped in this house, forever doomed. At 19, she was already a widow with a child—a most desperate position for any woman in India in the late 1800s.

Buried in her memories were earlier years of tender love from parents who regarded her as their greatest treasure, naming her Ponnamal, meaning “gold.” Her parents showered her with every possible advantage, blessing their bright young daughter with a good education. Then, as was the custom, she was given in marriage to an older man. Clothed in silk, decorated with beautiful jewelry, high-spirited and gentle Ponnamal left the warmth of her father’s house to marry a professor at the mission college. Her marriage brought disillusionment, but the birth of a child brought her joy. And then came the sudden, shocking death of her husband only a year after their wedding. Ponnamal had journeyed from safety to sorrow and now to despair. Widows were outcasts in India. What would she do? Where would she go?

“We’ll take you in,” responded her in-laws with disdain and resignation ringing in their voices. Ponnamal realized her place in their home. They never let her forget. “You’re only here because of the child. No, you can’t change your clothes. You’re a widow. Only soiled things become you. No, you can’t have a comb. You are no good. You’re a burden on us. Even if you work all day, it won’t be enough to repay all we have done for you.”

At first Ponnamal thought, Surely they don’t know me. When they see how hard I work and how much I want to help, they’ll be kind. They’ll change. But the more she tried, the worse her situation became. Sinking into despair, she began to believe their lies.

One night she thought, I cannot endure my lot in life. I hear the well calling me as it has called others in the past. I can end my suffering with death. She waited for her mother-in-law to fall asleep and then grasped the door’s iron bolts and slipped out into the darkness of the night. She felt relieved to escape as the open air and vast starry sky soothed her heart. She stood by the well, ready to throw herself over the edge.

But then she remembered something she had read long ago. Wasn’t there an Indian widow who actually accomplished a great deed for her country? I know I read that somewhere. If she could accomplish something worthwhile, then why can’t I do the same? Maybe there is hope for me yet. Fleeting excitement simmered within and drove her back to her bed, where she lay for hours, thinking wishful thoughts until dawn.

The next morning her eyes sparkled with anticipation of unknown adventure. And now, only days later, standing behind a door, invisible to all but God, she listened intently to Mr. and Mrs. Walker, missionaries committed to sharing Jesus with others in India. They asked about the wild-eyed young girl they had noticed. “Who is the young woman living with you?”

“She is the widow of our son,” replied Ponnamal’s in-laws.

“We’d like to invite all of you to attend church,” replied the Walkers.

Surprisingly, Ponnamal was allowed to attend church on Sundays. The preacher gave deep, vibrant, Spirit-filled messages with rapid sentences in the complicated Tamil language. He may have thought only the men were understanding and hearing the message. But Ponnamal discerned the meaning of those words better than all others in attendance. This Jesus is the one I have been longing for all my life. I never have to feel alone again. Transformed, Ponnamal entered into new life in Christ and was filled with a supernatural joy and peace. Outwardly, she endured the same trapped, hopeless existence, but with newfound serenity, she performed the drudgery of duties in a strength and triumph no amount of reproach could weaken.

One day, Mrs. Walker, with characteristic gentleness, asked, “Could Ponnamal stay an extra hour after the Sunday service to teach Sunday school?”

Again, surprisingly, her father-in-law responded, “Yes, she may.”

Ponnamal excitedly thought, I can hardly believe I have this open door. But I will walk through it. And walk through it she did, teaching women of all ages.

Ponnamal was teaching one Sunday when she noticed a slight, gentle-faced, dark-haired English woman watching her. I wonder who she is? She seems like someone with whom I could pour out my soul.

The English woman watched Ponnamal teach and thought, What strikes me is her power over them. There is something quite unusual about her. Ponnamal is a woman set apart. Later that morning, the woman walked up to her and said, “I’m Amy Carmichael.” Ponnamal could have never guessed how one meeting would alter the course of her life.

Amy intently watched Ponnamal’s in-laws at church. One Sunday, she saw the father-in-law crush a butterfly against the church wall during the service. She thought with disgust, How symbolic the crushing of that insect seems. The only one he has within his power to crush is Ponnamal. Amy began wondering, What can I do? and then What must I do?

Amy knocked on the in-laws’ door, determined in her purpose. Winsomely, knowingly, she approached in the way God had shown her, finally asking permission for Ponammal to come with her for just one afternoon. “I would like Ponnamal to accompany me on visits out on the mission field.”

The father-in-law assured her, “Name the afternoon, and she may go.”

Ponnamal, on hearing those words, felt the prison doors open. This is the day of Jubilee for me. Life will never be the same. And she was right.

When Amy arrived at the in-laws’ house, she scanned Ponnamal’s face, looking into eager yet powerfully controlled eyes intent on answering God’s call. Amy thought, Yes, Ponnamal, we will serve the Lord together in His love and power. Together they walked out of that oppressive house into an afternoon of service for the Lord.

Some time later, Amy boldly asked the in-laws, “I would like Ponnamal to join me in ministry and travel throughout India, serving the Lord.” Miraculously, they agreed. Thus began the adventures of Amy Carmichael and Ponnamal, coworkers in the missionary work of Dohnavur Fellowship in India.

In Ponnamal’s story we see a tremendous rescue and restoration of a soul. What made her rescue possible? Grace—God’s pure and powerful grace. Ponnamal was helpless, unable to save herself in her life situation. She seemed to be doomed to a life of drudgery and despair. Then, amazingly, she experienced spiritual transformation. She was given a life of ministry with one of the greatest missionaries of all time. Grace benefits the least likely and showers the unfortunate with unimaginable gifts, producing results that are almost too good to be true. God, because of His grace, finds invisible people and pours out His gifts of grace: new identity, beauty, strength, provision, new life, forgiveness of sins, and more. Ponnamal received the touch of God’s grace and lived forever after in its warm embrace. And you and I must do the same.

Grace is seemingly a mystery. To many, grace is a theological term, not an experiential reality. When asked to define it, most cannot find adequate words. But you and I need the grace of God. Without God’s grace we cannot be saved, thrive, grow, or live. We depend on God’s grace every waking moment. More often than we care to admit, we don’t realize the miraculous work and wonder of God’s grace.

A number of years ago, during a busy time of ministry, I remarked to myself, I want to grow deeper in my relationship with God. I wonder what God wants to do in my life? A phrase came to mind then that I could not stop thinking about: Grow in the grace… I thought, That must be part of a verse in the Bible, but I have no idea where it is. Finally, when I dimly began to wonder if God might be trying to speak to my heart, I pulled out my trusty concordance to see if I could find it. Sure enough, I found 2 Peter 3:18: “Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory, both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.” I read that verse as though for the first time. Although I had not yet plumbed the depths of it, I felt I had discovered one of God’s secrets in the Bible, a truth reserved for those who will open the pages of His Word and regard seriously what He says. I knew the secret was related to grace, but I also knew I couldn’t give a good definition beyond what I’d heard others say about it.

Since my college years, I’ve known grace as God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense. This acronym helps me remember part of what God’s grace does for me, but I wanted to know more. What is grace, really? And more importantly, how relevant is grace to me? Why do I need grace, and how can I get it? So I began living in this one simple verse, thinking about its meaning for my own life with the Lord.

The lessons I’ve been learning about growing in the garden of grace and receiving God’s gifts of grace form the substance of this book. Grace grabbed my heart and enlarged it, enabling me to powerfully experience more of the presence and person of God Himself. The more I realized the truth about grace, the more I experienced true freedom in life. What Jesus says is true—the truth will make you free (John 8:32). More than anything, we need to know the truth about grace, for grace unlocks the door to blessed freedom in Christ.

Grace is the free, unmerited favor of God. You can’t earn it. You don’t deserve it. Grace is at the heart of all God does toward you, for you, and in you. Grace finds you, saves you, and keeps you. Grace gives you everything you need, more than you could ever want, and places you in an eternal, secure, favorable position forever. You stand in grace, according to Paul the apostle (Romans 5:2).

A.W. Tozer writes in The Knowledge of the Holy that grace is the “good pleasure of God that inclines Him to bestow benefits upon the undeserving.” Chuck Swindoll, in his book The Grace Awakening, points out that “God helps the helpless, the undeserving, those who don’t measure up, those who fail to achieve the standard.”

The foundation of grace is the New Covenant, an unchanging, binding agreement made by God, ratified by the blood of Christ, and guaranteed by promises that can never be broken (Hebrews 8:7-13). The Old Covenant was based on the law, which could be broken (James 2:10). When we receive Christ, we are forever under grace (Romans 6:14), and our future is secure, for the covenant can never be broken because Christ guarantees its fulfillment. The fulfillment of the New Covenant of grace never depends on us, only on God.

The apostle Paul is the perfect New Testament expositor of the grace (Greek, charis) of God, for he knew grace perhaps better than most in the first-century church. He was a Pharisee and knew the finer points of God’s law. He hated the church and persecuted those who loved and followed Christ. And yet Jesus met him on the Damascus road, loved him, saved him, forgave him, and gave him everlasting life. Paul knew he did not deserve salvation, yet he could not deny his experience on the road to Damascus that day. He met Jesus. He personally knew the manifold grace of God. Grace became one of Paul’s favorite words. In fact, he loved describing grace with additional words like much more grace, abundant grace, superabundant grace, abounding grace, reigning grace, exceeding grace, exceeding abundant grace, glorious grace, and sufficient grace.

John Newton, the slave trader turned preacher, joined in Paul’s practice of elaborating on God’s grace gift. For Newton, the free, unmerited favor of God was “Amazing Grace.” And grace is amazing! Here’s why. Paul explained that salvation is not possible any other way but by grace through faith (Ephesians 2:8). Again, you can’t earn what God freely gives. You can only receive God’s grace-filled gift. Paul referred to “the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:7). Throughout the New Testament, Paul constantly attached grace to every aspect of our experience with God.

The effects of God’s grace in our lives are endless. Joseph Cooke, in his book Celebration of Grace, describes grace as “nothing more or less than the face that love wears when it meets imperfection, weakness, failure, sin. Grace is what love is and does when it meets the sinful and the undeserving.”  Donald Grey Barnhouse, a twentieth-century expositor and preacher, explained the relationship between God’s unmerited favor and love when he said, “Love that goes upward is worship; love that goes outward is affection; love that stoops is grace.”

I like to think of grace as God’s love in action. When you think of grace, think of God’s arms open wide to you, regardless of what you have done. Grace opens the floodgates and allows God’s endless love to pour into our lives, moment by moment, on into eternity. You have grace for today, grace for tomorrow, and grace forever. Now that’s an extravagant, outrageous grace. Cathleen Falsani, in her book Sin Boldly, describes grace as “audacious, unwarranted, and unlimited.”

At the heart of grace is a gift. I recently read a friend’s Facebook page, and he mentioned his own thankfulness for his son’s recent university scholarship. He wrote, “We are thankful to God, for it is a gift of grace.” My friend earned a doctoral degree in theology at Dallas Theological Seminary, so his words are highly credible. He understands, in the deepest theological sense from God’s Word, that everything we receive from God is a gift of His grace. God gives and gives and gives some more. His gifts are the overflow of His grace because giving is what grace does. In understanding grace, we need to imagine a huge box wrapped in a big beautiful bow. And when we pull the bow off and unwrap the gift, we find infinite, unending riches from God.

The greatest gift the God of all grace gave you is Christ, who is full of grace. Brian Edwards says, “Grace is not merely God’s attitude towards undeserving rebels, it is ultimately and above all God giving himself to us and for us—as the Man on a cross.” Christ’s death on the cross opens the floodgates of grace in your life. He died in your place, paid the penalty for your sin, and cleared the way for you to live with Him forever. In Christ, you are given manifold grace, riches, and an eternal inheritance. When you believe and receive God’s grace, you realize the best news imaginable is true—you are no longer alienated from God, but accepted and loved by Him forever.

The power of grace in our lives is seen in Peter’s words, “Grow in the grace…” That little word in points to the place where we truly live once we enter into a life-changing relationship with Jesus. It’s one thing to believe grace or even receive grace. But it is quite another thing to live in grace. Living in grace means being planted in the environment, breathing in the air, and thriving in the atmosphere of grace. Grace is like a beautiful garden where we may grow and flourish.

When I was a little girl, I enjoyed walking in my grandmother’s garden. My grandmother would spend many hours in her garden, caring for the flowers and vegetables she had planted. And so it is in the garden of grace. There in God’s wondrous garden, we meet with the Lord Himself and receive from Him everything we need for renewal and restoration. The garden of God’s grace is a place of security, abundance, provision, joy, and hope. Grace gives you what you need when you need it. Grace can make you grow into the woman God wants you to be.

God is the God of all grace. He wants to shower you with every grace-filled gift you need to grow—His provision for your needs, His perspective for your circumstances, and His presence for your journey from time to eternity. And so the most important aspect of grace is learning to receive all the gifts God’s grace-filled heart gives you. In fact, we are actually stewards of grace, which means we are entrusted with the responsibility of receiving and sharing God’s gracious gifts (1 Peter 4:10).

We often struggle to believe God’s grace is really extended toward us. We think, No, God can’t really love me. Not after all I’ve done. I think about the day I first surrendered my life to the Lord. I immediately remarked to my college roommate, “How can God possibly forgive me?” God’s grace is usually a surprise for the sinner, an undeserved gift waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed.

We are trained to earn what we have. And if an undeserved, unmerited gift is given to us, we often turn it down, reeling from the sting of our own guilt and pain. Many spend their lifetimes trying to earn or pay for what God has already given by His manifold grace. Many are pursuing something they believe is elusive, trying desperately to find God. What an eye-opening day when we discover that God is the initiator who seeks us out and extends the gift of His grace.

In God’s land of grace, we discover grace is received, not earned. David Jeremiah describes the discovery of the intoxicating light of grace as “finding a knothole in the high gates of heaven.”  Grace washes away our guilt and shame and gives us forgiveness and eternal life. Eventually, God’s grace opens our eyes to our future and a blessed hope. Most importantly, we experience God’s plan and purpose in our lives when we recognize, receive, and enjoy the gifts God gives us out of His heart of grace. And so, let’s resolve together that we will no longer try to earn or work for God’s grace. Instead, believe it, knowing that what God says is truer than what we feel. Receive it, daily unwrapping God’s abundant gifts of grace. And live it—growing deep and thriving in God’s garden of grace.

A young man grew tired of living at home. When would his father die so he could receive his inheritance? All he could think about was the money he would receive and the freedom such wealth would afford. Finally, he could wait no longer. “Father, give me my share of what will come to me at your death,” he demanded.

Such a request was insulting, and the father could rightly have chosen out of anger to disown the son. But then he would have no hope of reconciliation. And so the father, with a broken heart, said, “Here is your portion.” His older brother clearly resented his brother’s actions and responded with silence.

Normally the eldest son would step in and plead with a rebellious brother on behalf of the father. He would remind the young man of the father’s love. But in this case, the older brother could say nothing, for he was in rebellion of another kind. And so the father’s heart ached for two lost sons. They both rejected their father’s grace, mercy, and love.

The younger son took his inheritance and left town in a hurry, not wishing to face the scorn of the entire community because of his actions. I’m out of here. Now I’m free to do what I want! he may have thought. He left his own country for a foreign land.

In a short time, he squandered all his money. Now what will I do? I can’t go home. My brother hates me. And I cannot endure the reproach of the people in my village because of what I’ve done to my father. And I have insulted my father, so he has surely disowned me. The young man’s bad situation worsened, and he became desperate because of the famine in the land. I’m starving. I’ve got to find something to eat! I’ll see if I can hire on with one of the wealthy landowners here in this country.

The landowner looked at this beggar asking for work. Who does this young man think he is? I know how to get rid of him—I’ll offer him a job he would never even consider. I’ll let him feed the pigs.

“I’ll take it!” replied the desperate young man. As he offered the food to the pigs, he thought, I wish I could stomach what these swine are eating. I’m so hungry. Even the pigs eat better than me. There is no mercy for me. Not a drop of kindness from anyone. Only disgust.

Suddenly, in his weakened state, he came to his senses with a new thought. What am I doing? Even my father’s hired hands eat better than this. I can earn my way and eat enough by hiring on with my own father as one of his hired hands. He planned his words carefully. I’ll say, “I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.” Yes, that will work, he thought as he began the long journey home.

The young man fully expected reproach from the community and a long wait before he would be granted an audience with an angry, estranged father. What the young man had not counted on was his father’s heart. He thought his father was like all people. He didn’t yet know his father was unlike all others in the world. His father did outrageous, out-of-this-world things because of one quality—extravagant grace.

Walking on the dusty road, approaching town, the young son grew more fearful, dreading the impending confrontation. What will happen when I enter the village? he thought. His head was down, his eyes on his feet as he trudged along.

But then he looked up. What is this? Who are these people running toward me? And then his heart lifted. What he saw was more than he could bring himself to believe. Could it be? No way—but it is! My father! Running toward me with his arms wide open!

The father, setting aside the cultural rights of estrangement and throwing himself into one act of humiliation, left the comfort of his home and raced out to receive the young man, not as a hired hand, but as his beloved son. The father would have nothing less than the very best for his recovered child. He paid the price of humiliation and loss of face and raced out to his son, thus settling forever in front of the entire town the nature of their relationship and full reconciliation.

Stunned by the outpouring of his father’s love, the young son said, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” Now he knew, as never before, what he had in his father—the relationship, the love, the grace, and the greatness of his father. How could I have been so ignorant of my father’s great love for me?

The father gave him no time for further thought. “Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate.” The father restored their relationship in the presence of all. The robe signified restoration to sonship, the ring entrusted him with power, and the shoes symbolized his rank as a son, not a servant. Only the father could restore these things through his own gracious favor. The result of extravagant grace was reconciliation between father and son and the fulfillment of the father’s steadfast, unchanging desire.

But the father had yet another son who needed his grace. This son had troubles of a different kind. He did not know his father’s love any better than the son who left home. The older son had rejected the father in perhaps a deeper way, having refused intimate fellowship while living in the same house. Equally estranged, he was aloof and distant from the father. He didn’t understand that he had broken his father’s heart as much as the younger son had. Standing outside the house, the older son asked one of the young servants, “What is going on? Why is there music and dancing?”

The servant quickly responded with excitement. “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.”

“Of course! Typical. My father throws a party for a worthless son but has never thrown one celebration for me. What has he ever done for me? I have done everything right and yet received nothing for it. I’m infuriated that my father wouldn’t make such a terrible son pay for all he has done against the family.”

Standing outside the house, the older son’s anger rose to a boiling point. He refused to enter the house or engage in the celebration. In their culture, his aloofness and absence from the party would have been considered an insult to the father and the guests. Once again, the father could have chosen to reject and disown a rebellious son. But again, he responded with extravagant and outrageous grace.

Just as the son was thinking about the celebration, he looked up to find himself face-to-face with his father. Not afraid to lose face with his guests and suffer the humiliation of lowering himself to quell unjust rebellion, the father left the party to reach out to his son.

When the older son saw the father, he became more obstinate. “Look! I’ve been serving you for a long time, and I’ve done everything you told me to. It’s not fair. Your younger son doesn’t deserve the party—I do. But you’ve never thrown a party for me!”

The father loved this son and wanted him for his own, not estranged, but in fellowship. And so he did what no other would do. He did not walk away, but reached out in grace-filled love. “Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live and was lost and has been found.”

How did the older son respond? What did he say to such grace offered in the face of callous hatred?

A hush most likely moved across the crowd of listeners, and palpable tension may have filled the air when Jesus told this story. Through the windows and rooms of every detail and character, hard-hearted Pharisees were encouraged to see themselves and others anew—with eyes of grace. Jesus invited them to enter into a relationship with God and share His heart of love expressed in grace-covered actions. When He heard them say, “This man receives sinners and eats with them,” He was compelled to show them God’s magnificent grace through the art of a pointed, passionate story. He gave them this parable of the prodigal son, a beloved tale of hope for every sinner saved by grace.

But really, this grace story encompasses two sons who desperately needed God’s unconditional love and unmerited favor. Both were in a hopeless state, unable to help themselves in any way, completely reliant on their father’s mercy. We know the rest of the story for the younger son. But what about the end result for the older son? That part of the story is unfinished. God seems to leave all who listen, including the Pharisees of Jesus’ day, with a question: “Will you set aside your prejudices, resentments, sins, despair, and despondency, and step into the garden of My grace? Live here in My grace and share in My heart of love.”

The highlight of Jesus’ story, looming larger than any of the details, is the father’s heart. His actions were unexpected, nothing like human responses to sin and rebellion. And that was His point. God seemingly says to us at every turn, “Know Me. Understand My heart. I love you and want you in close relationship with Me.” He wants us to know Him not as we think He is or want Him to be, but as He really is. He is always more than we think He is and more than we know Him to be. There is always more to know of God and His infinite, eternal, magnificent grace.

God’s grace is outrageous and a huge surprise for all who receive it. We can relate to the younger son, who squandered opportunities and needed forgiveness for willful sin. Sometimes we are like the older son, caught up in pride and arrogance, stepping out of the grateful appreciation of God’s grace-covered gifts in our lives. Often, we don’t even realize God’s grace and mercy acting on our behalf because we are so focused on ourselves. Through a poignant word-woven picture, Jesus extends the invitation to enter into the land of grace and enjoy an intimate relationship with the Father.

Jesus shows us the Father’s heart. If you want to know what God is like, just look at Jesus, for He explains God (John 1:18). The more you watch Jesus in relationship with others in the Gospels, the greater you will realize, experience, and understand His grace.

Jesus, in telling the parable of the prodigal son, confronts legalism with love and grace. We can know by looking at Jesus that we cannot earn favor; we can only receive His grace. We can receive God’s grace because Jesus died in our place on the cross, receiving the full penalty for every one of our sins. His death was enough for every sin.

Legalism places the burden of performance on man, not God. But if we could do anything to earn God’s love and acceptance, then Jesus died needlessly on the cross. Bill Bright used to say that legalism is the greatest heresy of Christianity. You can’t earn God’s favor or love, but you can receive it. Stepping off of the performance treadmill is a challenge for any child of God. And sometimes, even in the church, grace is a missing element. There are always those who pull you into a legalistic way of approaching God. Philip Yancey says, “Oddly, I sometimes find a shortage of grace within the church, an institution founded to proclaim, in Paul’s phrase, ‘the gospel of grace.’ ”

I grew up wanting desperately to be accepted by my classmates in grade school. Without a doubt, I was one of the great people pleasers of all time. I would often think, If only I have the right clothes and get the best grades, I will be part of the in crowd. Meeting Jesus changed my whole approach to life because I became assured of His love and acceptance. He pulled me into a whole new environment with Him—the garden of grace. And living in the grace garden, breathing its atmosphere, walking and talking with Him, I realized God loves to bestow gifts of grace on undeserving sinners. His love changes us as He transforms us on the inside, makes us beautiful, provides for our needs, and sets us free to love, worship, and serve Him. In the garden of grace, we find ourselves in the perfect environment to thrive and grow.

Have you ever traveled to another country? I remember my first trip to Europe. My husband chose Italy for our destination. I thought, Oh, I can’t wait to get off the plane and visit this new place I’ve heard about but never seen! I studied books about Italy and learned about various tourist attractions. But nothing prepared me for that first moment when we boarded the vaporetto (a boat) and traveled on the water to the Hotel Danieli in Venice. I had never been to a place where people traveled by boat to reach their destination. With time in Italy, I grew familiar with the ways of the people and their customs, and I even learned some of their language.

The garden of grace is like a new country, a place unlike any you have known before. We need to learn the ways and language of grace because grace has a unique vocabulary unlike what you will hear in the world. Here’s how Joseph Cooke describes it:

Grace is not the kind of thing that you can study once, and then conclude that you have it nailed down…Grace needs to permeate deeper and deeper and deeper into our minds, attitudes, feelings, relationships, behavior, service for God and others. It needs to go on and on changing us. It needs to become an ever more vital, motivating force in our lives.

You can always spot those who know life in the garden of grace, for they act with unusual mercy and love, and they speak out of kindness and compassion rather than resentment and vengeance. They are selfless and are filled with loving, compassionate actions. And those who have never known grace are touched and moved by it. And if their hearts are open, they are changed forever.

One day while D.L. Moody was preaching, a homeless man, starving and bitterly cold, wandered into the meeting room. Moody’s message that day encompassed the grace of God. Afterward, the man walked up to Moody and said, “I didn’t come to hear you. I came to get warm. But my heart is broken. Do you think the grace of God can save me—a poor, miserable, vile wretch like me?”

Moody assured him, “Yes, definitely!” Moody later remarked, “It was refreshing to preach the gospel of the Son of God to that poor man.”

Moody prayed with the man and found him a place to stay for the night. But Moody didn’t stop there, for grace gives and gives and then gives some more. The next day, Moody arranged for someone to retrieve the man’s coat from the pawnshop. This man, without a hope in the world, wandered into a warm meeting hall for protection and found the secure love of Jesus in the garden of God’s grace.

Moody, one of the greatest evangelists of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, influenced thousands of men and women and understood grace better than most people. He used to tell his audiences, “I have had more trouble with myself than with any other man I’ve met.”

Ponnamal certainly discovered the power of God’s grace when God found her tucked away in a far corner of India. Who could have guessed that God would give her the gift of ministry with Amy Carmichael? And the story of God’s grace continues through your life and mine.

Friend, as I write these words, I wonder if you have discovered the magnificence of life in the garden of God’s grace? Do you hear God’s invitation to come and live in His garden? Do you know His love and acceptance as a reality in your own life? Do you realize you can do nothing to earn His favor? If so, it’s time to throw a party for those who are lost have been found. And the adventure has only just begun. Let’s step into the garden and discover the lifelong, always-new, incredible experience of growing in God’s amazing grace.

What Are Real World Parents?

I have a vivid memory of being a teenager and sitting at the dinner table with my family, rolling my eyes and pretending to gag behind my dad’s back.

Why?

He was trying to do family devotions with us. But my three younger brothers and I just weren’t buying it.

Every four or five months my dad would hear some program on Christian radio about family devotions, and he’d come home with another new idea for making it work with our family. After all, that’s what Christian families are supposed to do, right? But it just never worked in our house. It felt completely forced and unnatural.

Still, somehow all four of us Matlock boys ended up in ministry. My youngest brother, Jonathan, helped me start WisdomWorks Ministries, and now we both do pretty much the same kind of youth ministry and youth minister support through Youth Specialties. Our brother Josh is a senior pastor in Southern California, and our brother Jeremy is a missionary in Russia. And still to this day, whenever Dad tries to bring us together for Ã’family devotionsÓ during the holidays, we mock him a little. It’s become a kind of tradition because it isn’t genuine for who we are as a family.

Now, I’m not saying that having kids who serve in some area of ministry means you’re a successful parent. The point I’m making is that all four of my dad’s sons grew into men with a real passion and appreciation for God’s Word–even though he couldn’t get us to sit still and take the reading of the Word seriously during repeated failed attempts at family devotions.

Why? Because we knew he had a real passion and appreciation for God’s Word. We saw Dad reading the Bible. We saw him struggle to apply it to his life. We saw both of our parents base their decisions on their understanding of what the Bible teaches.

Ultimately we were convinced of the worldview contained in the pages of Scripture because we saw our parents openly endorsing it, talking about it, learning from it, and living it out day after day, year after year. That was enough for us–despite the failed attempts at family devotions.

That’s what this book is about. We’re not interested in presenting more artificial techniques and methodology to Ã’fixÓ our kids or do what Christian families are Ã’supposed to do.Ó Rather we want to help you discover how to live for God in a real way, right in front of your kids, so they can’t help but catch the big picture that God and his Word mean the world to us and that living for Jesus really works in the Real World.

Don’t get me wrong. Not all families are built to the same specifications. We each have our own family DNA. So if family devotions fit who you are, more power to you! Organized, structured, traditional family devotions are a great tool for some families. Now that my wife, Jade, and I have two kids of our own–our son Dax is in middle school, and our daughter Skye is 10–we’ve tried to have a family Bible hour around the table. It kind of worked off and on when the kids were younger, but we eventually realized it wasn’t a good fit for the natural rhythm of our lives. It’s not who we are right now. So instead we’ve found ways to talk about God’s Word that are a better fit for us.

As we work together through the concepts in this book, one thing we’ll discover is that Real World Parents are real in the sense that they do what best fits their families, and they genuinely adjust their own lives to fit into God’s story.

Is God Happy with My Family?

In the church today, there’s some really good teaching on parenting. My wife and I have benefited from writers, conference speakers, and pastors who’ve opened God’s Word and helped us connect with what it means to raise up our children in the way they should go, how to provide godly discipline, and ideas for reinforcing good behavior. But again, that’s not what this book is about.

And, honestly, over the years I’ve been frustrated with some teaching on parenting that’s built around making parents feel guilty. These teachers, authors, books, and programs build parenting models based on our common fear that we’re going to mess up our kids–or that we’ve already messed up our kids. That’s an easy road that plays on our fears and our guilt over the areas in which we struggle as parents. Then they suggest that their programs or perspectives are our final hope to Ã’get it rightÓ or, worse, to do it the only way God wants it done.

That’s not what this book is about, either. I promise not to use your parenting fears and anxieties against you. And we all have those feelings. I know I have them. If you could spend a little time with my family, you’d quickly see that we have issues, too. Those prone to critiquing parents would have no trouble criticizing my wife and me. So, no, I’m not interested in beating up other parents in order to somehow make them feel better or more motivated in their parenting.

In fact, I’d like to communicate exactly the opposite.

In our Real World Parent seminars, held around the United States, our teachers use a self-diagnostic tool to help attendees identify what they believe God thinks of their families.

It goes something like this:

What do you think God sees when he looks at your family? Do you think God grins or grimaces? (Place an X on the line.)

God Grins God Grimaces

This can be a challenging question if you take it seriously. On one hand, those of us who’ve grown up in Christian churches understand the idea of God’s grace. We understand that our relationship with God isn’t based on our performance. God sacrificed his only Son–the Son whom God loves so deeply–to pay for our sins on a cross. And God did this long before we even knew we wanted that gift from God. Thus, we’d always check the box that says God’s love is unconditional for those of us in Christ.

Still, we have trouble carrying the idea of God’s grace into our parenting. We can talk ourselves into believing that failing our kids is an unforgivable sin, that God could never be pleased with us if we’ve been guilty of sloppy or harsh or inconsistent or selfish or fearful or overprotective or neglectful parenting.

We may wonder how God could ever look at our families and grin. And the problem is that, as parents, we sometimes forget that we’re also children–that our God is our Father, and that God is more lovingly inclined to smile at us than we are to smile at our own kids. Our Father loves us, and he forgives our parenting shortcomings and our family failings.

I will say this more than once: Nothing you read in this book will make God the Father love you and your family any more than he does right now, no matter what’s going on with your family today.

I made this statement at one of our Real World Parent seminars, and I noticed that one of the women began to cry. She came up to me later and explained how inferior she’s felt as a mother in her local church. Her husband isn’t a believer, her kids get into trouble, and she just felt like such a failure–like a second-class parent in a church where most of the other parents were both Christians, still married, and raising such Ã’niceÓ children.

I tried to assure her that God’s grace applies to us as parents, and that in Christ she is forgiven and fully accepted as a beloved daughter (and mom!). The idea that God loved her family right now–in its present condition–was a reality she wasn’t living in. She felt she was Ã’underperformingÓ as a parent and couldn’t keep up. So she said the idea that she’s forgiven, accepted, and loved as a parent gave her immense comfort.

Ernest Hemingway’s short story called Ã’The Capital of the WorldÓ begins with an anecdote about a man in Madrid who put an ad in the newspaper to contact his estranged son. The ad read, PACO, MEET ME AT HOTEL MONTANA NOON TUESDAY. ALL IS FORGIVEN. PAPA. The story then describes how at noon on Tuesday, 800 young men arrived at the hotel to make peace with their fathers.

The joke was that there are lots of guys in Spain named Paco. But the other message is that wanting our dads’ approval, specifically, is a universal human experience. Taking nothing away from the indispensable role of our mothers, we all long to have our fathers sign off on who we are and what we’re doing.

It’s what psychologists call Ã’father hunger.Ó

As Christians, followers of Jesus, we have that hunger even in our roles as parents, even if we’ve made mistakes along the way. Our Father has forgiven us. We live in God’s grace. God approves of us in Christ. And, yes, God loves us.

I want to make it perfectly clear–again–that you’ll find no directives in this book that will make God love you or your family even a little bit more than he already does. God’s unconditional love for your family was established long ago. It is full. It cannot grow. Romans 8:1 declares, Ã’Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.Ó And that includes Christian parents.

I hope you’ve heard that. But I also hope you aren’t satisfied to leave your family where it is today. Because while I’m convinced that God will never love or accept you any more than he does right now, I’m also convinced that God loves you so much that he won’t leave you where you are right now, either.

No matter how good or bad you believe your family is, God has plans for you that will unfold in the Real World. God will continue to move your family along in the journey he has in store for you. Which is why this book is designed to help Real World Parents understand that journey–or story–and communicate it to our kids.

ÒHow Will This Book Fix My Kids?Ó

As long as we’re talking about things this book isn’t, I should mention again that in the following pages you won’t find any tips or tricks or techniques to fix your children’s bad behavior. (We’d probably sell more copies if that’s what we were promising, but we’re not.)

In my experience, books full of tips, techniques, and tricks succeed at making readers feel good for a while. They make us feel hopeful. They make us feel as though we’re doing something about the problem. But they often fail in the long run because we just can’t keep it up. We can’t change the personalities of our families to fit the models of the new programs on an ongoing basis.

When my kids came along, though, and I started making my way through all the different kinds of Christian parenting books, I noticed that a lot of them focused on helping me raise well-behaved, well-mannered kids. And while that’s an important element, there wasn’t much focus on raising kids to have hearts that seek after Christ. Of course we can’t force that kind of spiritual openness and connectedness with God onto our kids–but in our Real World homes, we can create environments that promote such growth.

In a sense we become gardeners tending the spiritual development of our kids. God places the spark of life in the seed. We can’t control that or how the plant eventually matures. But we can make sure the soil is rich, the ground is generously watered, the weeds are kept at bay, and the opportunity for sunlight is freely available. We can raise our children in environments where having a heart for God is the norm and not the exception.

What we don’t want to generate are well-behaved kids who mindlessly follow our directions without ever willfully owning the faith in Jesus that they see in us. In the long run, the goal of parenting isn’t for our kids to be known for how well-behaved they are, but for how well they know and respond to God.

Part of our challenge is to communicate to our kids a worldview that supports right actions. It’s true that we (and they) will be held accountable for our behavior based on God’s instructions to us. But whether or not we obey those instructions has a lot to do with whether or not we really believe God’s story–a biblical worldview–and whether or not we walk in God’s power.

In that way, our children’s behavior is kind of like the tip of an iceberg. From countless illustrations we all know that the part of the iceberg that rises above the waterline is just a fraction of its total size. As such, you could conceivably make all kinds of alterations to the exposed part of the iceberg–in other words, the outward stuff (behaviors)–without significantly altering the iceberg itself.

What we’ve got to get at–in our own lives and in the lives of our kids–is the 80 percent of the berg that’s under the waterline. In our illustration that represents one’s worldview. We believe our behavior is ultimately driven by our understanding of the way the world works, of what we believe to be true and false about the universe, of our perception of reality.

And that’s what we want to focus on as Real World Parents. How can we communicate God’s worldview to our kids? What story are we telling them about the universe, both intentionally and–more importantly–in the way we live with and for God over time?

Before you move on to the next chapter, ask yourself these questions:

1. When you imagine God looking at your family, what do you think God sees? What do you believe God’s desire for your family is?

2. When you look at the world your children are living in, do you believe it’s better or worse compared to when you were growing up? Why?

3. Which matters more to you–that your children demonstrate good behavior, or that your children understand and believe in a biblical worldview? Why?

4. In your own life, what has mattered more in the long run–your behavior on any given day or your foundational beliefs about God and the world?