No Greater Joy Ministries » Girls & Boys

Feed the Children

Shoshanna (Pearl) Easling — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 13:05:43 +0000

We just came in from planting kale and collards that I started from seed 6 or 8 weeks ago. I still have chocolate-brown soil underneath my nails. The smell of fresh soil in the spring is wonderful! My kids love helping, learning, and getting right in the middle. The whole planting experience becomes a homeschool lesson. We talk about how to plant, why heirloom vegetables are good for the body, what makes healthy soil, and, of course, our favorite subject—worms! James and Jeremiah had a hard time doing anything but comparing who found the biggest worm. You know you have healthy soil when it looks like a worm bed. James said, “We are my heroes!” as he was observing the dark, chocolate-brown, beautiful soil full of life. Last year we started working on a series called Making Vegetables. We did a lot of research and interviewed people around the world on everything pertaining to gardens. From soil and compost to veggies and preserving the harvest and so much more, we’re putting together the best tried-and-true and cutting-edge information in the world. Last year, we put in a sustainable hillside garden. It started with carving away our driveway. We live on the side of a hill, and we have a circular driveway around our house. We made three large, curved steps terracing up the hillside. We dug a footer along each step wall. We poured footers and laid blocks, enforcing with rebar and pouring every other one solid. We had a strong wall. After letting the concrete set up for a few days, we backfilled. We added two feet of topsoil, two inches of compost, and an inch or so of manure. We used a rototiller to mix it all together, and covered it in about 3 or 4 inches of wood chips. We had our hillside garden! The best part of our hillside garden is the way we built up our soil. That was the first and last time we will ever need to rototill our garden. The 4-inch layer of organic matter on the top of the soil acts like a skin that protects and feeds the soil, making it a great home for worms. Every year we will sprinkle a little compost or manure on top, and add more wood chips. This is called “weedless gardening” because the wood chips keep the weeds from coming up. One year later our soil is rich, soft, full of worms, and begging to be planted! We are growing organic, nutritionally dense foods again this year. They taste so good! People ask me all the time how I get my kids to eat veggies. Well, it helps to have really good ones, but mostly they eat them because that is what I feed them. Penelope’s first taste of food was an onion. They are developing taste buds, and I make sure they develop healthy taste buds by feeding them lots of fresh veggies. I am so excited about our garden this year because it is not just fun, it is growing my children into healthy people. It makes me smile!

The Well

Debi Pearl — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 14:07:12 +0000

I have very fond memories of my grandmother training me in the art of making biscuits. Teaching me seemed to make her happy. Each morning she would pull out the biscuit board drawer that was built into the cabinet. It was a board, like a table top, mounted like a drawer. It was always covered with flour. Once the board was extended she would mound two cups of flour on it. Then she would explain to me as she pushed a hole in the middle of the flour, “First make your well.” The well was just a hole in the middle of the pile of flour. To my young ears, calling the hole a “well” sounded so fine—mysterious-like. Into the well she dumped slightly warm lard, and then she added homemade buttermilk. With her thumb and index finger, working only in the well, she worked the lard and buttermilk, gradually incorporating the flour until it formed a soft dough. She rolled the dough with a rolling pin a few times, and then patted it down to about half an inch thick. With her biscuit cutter she pressed out about ten biscuits. She always had a big black skillet with butter in it warming in the oven. Each biscuit would quickly be turned in the warmed butter before she added the next one. While they baked in her hot oven, I played with the leftover dough, learning how to cut out biscuits. I can clearly remember standing there, almost eye-level with the countertop, working with the dough while drinking in the wonderful aroma of baking biscuits. My grandmother trained me to make biscuits. She trained me to laugh while making biscuits. My mischievous streak was developed in that kitchen as I conferred with my grandmother in how we could scare Papa when he came in for breakfast. Ask my staff—I am well trained in making biscuits and in the art of scaring distracted office workers. I am the queen of “BOO!” Oh, how dearly I loved my grandmother! As I look back, I know I must have left her floor covered with flour, yet she included me. I can’t remember a time I disobeyed my grandmother. I wanted to please her.

Her joy in helping was immeasurable; and more important, she was being trained to love working with her hands.

Today I sat at the kitchen table making guacamole out of 600 avocados. You read it correctly…600 avocados. A man in the church was able to buy a hundred boxes of avocados for a ridiculously low price. I bought ten boxes from him. My daughter Shoshanna and 3-year-old granddaughter Penelope dropped by while I was in the middle of my green venture. Penelope didn’t hesitate a minute. She was up in my lap, and where once there were two hands working, suddenly there were four. She imitated my every move. It slowed me down considerably, and green goo plopped on the floor a few times, but her joy in helping was immeasurable; and more important, she was being trained to love to work with her hands. It was Proverbs 31—Training Class 101. Many parents get so worked up over making their children be obedient in all things they forget that training doesn’t mean discipline; it means instructing the child in how to master the issues of life. Training is the art of imparting skill sets and worldviews. Training a child in the way he should go involves taking a child by the hand and allowing him to be a part of your productive life. If you cook a meal and don’t have your little girl standing beside you as you talk her through every step of the process, then you are NOT training her up to be a good cook. If you clean house, shop, sew, have a Bible study, or any number of productive activities and you don’t involve your children, then you are not TRAINING UP your children in the way they should go.

Training a child in the way he should go involves taking a child by the hand and allowing him to be a part of your productive life.

God stated it correctly when he said, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” When you train a child to enjoy cooking, she will always enjoy cooking. When you train up a child to work, he will always enjoy the accomplishment of a job well done. When you train up a child to notice what needs to be done, to be on time, to be respectful, to work as a team, to use time wisely, and to put his shoulder to the plow, he will always be responsible and productive. It is not a strange turn of events that one boy grows up to be lazy and another is a worker; that one woman is bitter and the other is full of joy; that one person is productive and the other expects others to pay his way; that one man is lustful and the other is self-disciplined; that one woman is emotionally crippled, and the other is wise and thoughtful. Train up—not spank up or fuss up or even instruct up—it is TRAIN UP. Train her how to make biscuits. It starts with a well and results in a life well lived. “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6

Why?

Michael Pearl — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 14:06:33 +0000

Question:

When I tell my 4-year-old son to do something, his first response is always, “Why?” How should I deal with this issue?

Answer:

When a child is told to do something that he doesn’t want to do, he will often ask, “Why?” In most cases the question is not prompted by a spirit of cooperative inquiry but by a spirit of independence and maybe even rebellion. The question is thrown at the parent as a challenge to his or her authority. A wise parent will know that the character of the child is better served if the question is left unanswered. The child should trust the wisdom and good intentions of his parents. The child who is in fellowship with his parents doesn’t demand a seat on the decision-making committee; his respect leads him to obey without challenging the wisdom of the authority. Some children get in a habit of asking why. It is their first response to any command, popping out even when given a command to do something they would like to do. Maybe they picked up the “why” habit from Mama challenging Daddy. You might want to change your style, now that you are raising children. You can come to discern your child’s heart by telling him to do something that he loves. If you say, “Let’s go play ball,” is his first response, “Why?” or is it, “Yeah!” If it is why, then you know it is just an ingrained habit that you need to help him break. Simply explain the problem and tell him that every “Why?” will result in him doing five jumping jacks or something of that nature. The consequences are jovial but are something that helps him remember.

When he says, “Why?” it sounds as if he is saying, “I don’t want to.”

If his whys are only thrown out when he is told to do something he doesn’t want to do, then explain to him that you don’t want him challenging you when you give an order, and that when he says, “Why?” it sounds as if he is saying, “I don’t want to.” Then make it clear that negative consequences will ensue when he challenges your authority. When you get the big “Why?” thrown at you, pause and punctuate the moment with a stare, and then require him to speak his obedience: “Yes, I will be glad to do as you say, and I am sorry for questioning you.” If the inclination to question you is deeply ingrained and he shows any lack of heart compliance, then you should follow with negative consequences like cleaning the kitchen floor or some other chore. If he drags around on the chore, expressing his lack of heart compliance, then give him three licks with the switching instrument of your choice and remind him that it is his attitude that is causing the extra work. As I have said many times, “Meet all negative behavior with negative consequences and the negative behavior will go away.” There is an exception of which you need to be aware. A very few children have an insatiable desire to know why and how about everything. I had one of those little fellows and I fixed his “Why?” problem the first day I decided it was a problem. When he said, “Why?” I sat down and gave him a long, boring, drawn-out, logical adult reason that strained his patience to the limit. A little while later I told him to do something else and without thought he said, “Why?” I turned and immediately started another lengthy, academic explanation, but he stopped me mid-sentence, saying, “That’s okay, I already know.” The smart kids learn fast.

What Is Creativity and Is It Important?

Debi Pearl — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 14:05:50 +0000

Creativity begins with imagination, conceiving a thing that is not but should be, and then taking steps to make it a reality. It is facing a problem and envisioning an original way to solve it satisfactorily. Creativity can be born of practical necessity or artistic expression, but it is something original—not done before, or not done in the same way. Without creativity there would be no innovation, no progress, nothing new or different. Think of the tools and trades that never would have existed without creative thought. Man would remain in the Stone Age—no houses, cars, computers, planes, or even light. Disease would have no cure. There would be no music or storytelling. God is creative. We are the proof of that. Being in his image, it is our nature to create—to endlessly strive to come up with something that amazes and gratifies. Creativity is associated with happiness and success in life. Creative people are interesting people; the lack thereof makes one a wallflower. Just a few years ago, operational efficiency was the yardstick of market success; today it is all about anticipating consumer demands. This translates into the insight to conceive of a heretofore-unknown product that meets a need, or at least a new way to market an old product.

Is Creativity an Inborn Gift?

Why are some people creative and others not so much? I have often heard people say, “Oh, I just wasn’t born with the gift for creativity. I am better with numbers and facts.” This statement simply is not true. Researchers have found environment to be more important than heredity in influencing creativity, and a child’s creativity can be either strongly encouraged or discouraged by early experiences in life and in school—including homeschool.

Are Your Children Creative?

Ask a group of eight-year-olds if they are creative and 95% of them will say, “Yes.” Ask twelve-year-olds and only 50% will say, “Yes.” By the time students finish school, only 5% say they are creative. The fact is we are all born with creativity, but it is pulled, wrenched, strangled, pried, screamed, and bored out of us by the time we are adults. Creativity can’t be tested, so it has generally been abandoned. Yet now, by questioning large numbers of successful people, it has become apparent that creativity is the key to their success. Homeschooling began as a creative explosion that was pulling children from the ranks of sameness and giving them a vision of possibilities. Then came homeschool curriculum—same old, one-cover-fits-all books and tests. Then quietly, the homeschooler began to fall back into the line of uniformity. What a crying shame!

How Can We Unleash Creativity?

Every child is born to be an artist, a storyteller, an inventor, and an explorer. Expanding creativity in children takes place when we turn them loose and teach them to have grit, determination, perseverance, and belief in what they are doing. Adults have a tendency to want to see the end of a thing, but creativity comes in bits and pieces. A creative person rarely sees the whole, only the piece he is touching at any given moment. Creativity can’t be hurried. Anything rushed is just a stamped-out repeat, and is not part of creative genius. Many years ago when I was in school, my art teacher made a dumb mistake. She had a class of gifted artists. She came to class one day and gave each of us three pieces of colored paper and told us to create a picture using those papers. She wanted us to be creative, but the idea she had in her head was just that—in her head. The three-colored project was a boring, frustrating experiment for the whole class. If the teacher had been wise, she would have shown us two or three examples of how an advertising company used three colors, and in doing so would have unleashed a ton of creativity. The most powerful way to develop creativity in your children is by example—your example and the examples of what other people have done. There is real pleasure in creativity. In studies, children who are allowed to be creative associate joy with making something new. Sometimes all a child needs to get started on a project is a good question. Instead of making a suggestion, ask a question: “Does this blue remind you of sky, water, or a pretty dress?” You might notice a child staring at a pattern on the kitchen wallpaper, so you ask, “Do you see something? I think I see an alligator in that pattern.” Homeschooling mamas are almost always in a hurry. Hurry and creativity cannot sit in the same seat. Stationing a baby or toddler in a puddle of warm sunshine that is pouring through the window, where he can stack blocks, paper, and various objects, is a simple, soothing, creative afternoon activity. Letting children play in the dirt, making roads, bridges, lakes, and buildings is creating the next generation of builders and makers. Sitting them in front of electronic media, even educational media, is killing their genius and dumbing them down. Sitting them down with a stack of workbooks that bore them silly is creating silly. Consider this: Any project that they get involved in—whether it be music, painting, mud building, writing, storytelling, stacking, making tents, performing plays, making cameras, or whatever—that results in someone being able to say, “Wow, that is interesting. What are you going to do next?” is creativity.

Old School, New School

As children mature, creativity will begin to involve long-term projects. Songs that need hours of careful trial and error, poems, stories, articles, term papers, research, building projects, etc. can lead to frustration or despair without patience. Encouraging a budding mind to persevere is critical. An important lesson in life that will be reflected in all areas of maturity and godliness is learning that life is work, and that rewards for greatness only come with time and energy. You don’t immediately become an expert musician, artist, writer, or builder. Good things come to those who stick with it. This lesson could be called discipline: learning to harness your feelings and drives for the greater good of tomorrow. Schoolbooks are set up for short-term accomplishment. “Finish your pages and then you will be through,” I have heard said a hundred times. The end of today’s torment is near…yeah! This type of schooling does little to teach children the value of delaying gratification. School projects are a much better way of teaching, and they are certainly more conducive to developing good character. In today’s society, knowing how to research is a thousand times better than knowing facts. Information is now at our fingertips. We live in a different world than we did 25 years ago, yet homeschooling curriculums are developed in the old world of knowledge. Once, schools were the gatekeepers of knowledge and memorization was the key to success. We tested a child’s ability to regurgitate facts and formulas. That day is over. Yet even in the old-school program, children came home each evening to run and play, chase the wind, and build doghouses. There were hours of creativity that children don’t experience today due to electronics. I would that all children become tinkers and thinkers. If we are to remain a free, strong, and confident people, then this next generation needs to dream, create, work hard to make it happen, and then take the next risk.

Questions to Ask

Are you homeschooling your child in a way that cultivates creativity or that stifles it?
Is your household structured to encourage creativity?
Are you so regimented in finishing school books that you leave no place for developing creativity, leaving your children to face a dull life, not becoming accomplished in business?

Facts to Consider

From the perspective of CEOs, creativity is now the most-valued quality in a potential employee. In an IBM research study, about 60% of the CEOs polled cited creativity as the most important leadership quality.
In the world of business, studies prove there is a strong connection between trust, character, and creativity. Trust in a company, a family, and even in a government, unleashes creativity. The knowledge that we are all working to make a better life for everyone causes an individual to reach for greater ways to serve others. This environment of goodwill allows followers to take risk. Risk is associated with creativity. Where there is no scary risk, there is no creativity.
Creative individuals are naturally more unafraid of experimenting with new things. They think more about ideas and less about what people think of them, thus they are often less susceptible to peer pressure. Studies show creative people tend to be self-reliant and willing to go against conventional “wisdom.”

Creativity Killers

Don’t patronize children by offering rewards for their creative labor, for it will steal their pleasure.
Be careful not to make your child a nervous wreck by unconsciously setting up expectations of grandeur. Be practical in your expectations, and let his vision of what he can do grow with his abilities.
When your children are involved in creativity, don’t hover over them instructing them on how to improve their creations.
If your child is making something, don’t feel compelled to evaluate his project.
So you’re an adult and can show your child how to do it better—don’t. Let him have the joy of discovery. It is much more valuable than the outcome
Please don’t set up creative projects that suit your house-cleaning habits. Take the kids to the library and turn them loose on ideas. You might sit on the floor and look through “how-to” books with them. Let them come up with ideas they would like to try. You can coach but don’t poach.

School Adventures

Shalom (Pearl) Brand — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 14:04:39 +0000

School time is never without some new adventure in the works, and this last week was no different. We were sitting around the table working on math when my nephew Jeremiah, who was looking out the window daydreaming, exclaimed that it was snowing. We all ran for the door, but to our disappointment, it was not snowing but sleeting. Snow and sleet are very rare where we live, so the children were too excited to continue with school as usual—if there is a usual. Gracie and Jeremiah wanted to go out and pick up the sleet, which they did. Seeing this as an opportunity to teach them something, I brought them back into the house and told them we were going to learn why it was sleeting and where it comes from. I started by putting in an earth science DVD that my sister had brought over to share with us. They had watched this before, but it had not sunk in. It was about five minutes long, and the kids were amazed at how sleet froze in midair and hail was just tossed around before it fell to the ground. We then went to the computer and I opened the weather app and showed them how the different colors meant different things. They saw that we were in the sleeting color and that it was snowing north of us and raining south of us. We then went to the porch and looked at the thermometer to see how cold it was. We talked about the temperature and what it meant; they saw that it was above freezing right then. After this they went outside to look at the sleet again and to bring in bowls full to examine. It has been a week since that day. I just asked them questions about how sleet and snow are made, and they have not forgotten a thing. School is fun when you look at it as an adventure in discovery and learning. We also have a science kit where we mix different elements to make dancing water or a colorful waterfall, or just watch red cabbage water turn blue when you add baking soda, or turn pink when you add citric acid, then turn clear again if you let it sit for a few days. It raises questions that they want answered. Questions are the root of all learning. Last week we mixed baking soda and citric acid together to make carbon dioxide gas, and then we talked about it. Afterward the kids watched a ten-minute science show on the lungs and how we inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. Today as Jeremiah was doing school he was reading in his second-grade pace science book about fish and how they take the oxygen out of the water. He stopped reading and asked, “How do they get rid of the carbon dioxide?” So we stopped working in the workbooks and went to the computer. With great excitement all five kids stood around me, and with the baby in my lap we looked it up on the computer. Soon we were learning all kinds of fun facts. The kids were interested and asked if they could make some more carbon dioxide. So back to the science kit we went. From my eight-year-old to my sister’s two-year-old, we all sat around the table again and watched the baking soda and citric acid bubble and fizz. It is when children ask questions and we take the time to answer that they learn the most. But some questions I am happy to leave for another day. Today as Jeremiah was reading his book on fish, out loud at the table, it said that fish lay their eggs in warm water when the days grow longer. Gracie, who was listening along as she did her school at the table, interrupted. “How do they make the babies? Are there daddies? Do they kiss under water?” Jeremiah excitedly jumped up and said, “Lets go look it up on the computer!”

The Power of a Box

Debi Pearl — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 14:02:01 +0000

My father’s extended family was not rich, but we were quite well off, so Christmas was a time of fashionable gifts. I really don’t remember any of the many fine gifts, but I do remember the non-posh gifts from my Aunt Grapelle. I smile as I write this because I also have this clear memory of the rest of the family making light of her yearly gifts to me. Even as a young child I was outraged by their attitude and lack of appreciation; how could they think that her gifts were anything less than magical? My Aunt Grapelle was a seamstress, and not just any seamstress—she was a creative genius, and everyone knew it. She made dresses for balls, weddings, and all things spectacular. I thought she was wonderful and always looked for ways to please her. You would think by the way I speak of her she lived next door and was a vital part of my life; not so, I only saw her a few times each year, and then she was busy visiting with the other adults. But, oh my, every Christmas I knew what my gift would be from her. Each year she packed a large box of bits and pieces of silky and gauzy material that she had left over from her many sewing projects. Ribbons and bows, snaps and buttons, and occasionally a piece of material large enough to make a baby-doll a dress—it all made Auntie’s gift thrilling. And to make it extra special, she always included needle and thread, scissors, pictures of ideas, and any other thing I might need to make my visit a time of creative wonder. Sometimes she would slip away from the adults to find me sorting through the box, and she would give me simple instructions on how to make this or that. My whole life of creativity, writing, art, homeschooling, and child training reflects those wonderful boxes of opportunity.

Living Large

Karen Sargent — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 14:06:36 +0000

We all want the best for our children. We want them to be used by God to do great things, to be world-changers and make a difference in eternity. But these things don’t happen by accident; they are planned for, prayed for, and worked toward. You may be surprised to hear this, but children are born with an incredibly small worldview. Their entire universe exists inside their own skin: what do I want, what do I feel, what makes me happy. If we want our children to grow up to be something for God, we must expand their view of life, and it’s never too early to start. Just taking the children to church is not enough; if that’s all you do, you haven’t even gotten in the ballpark yet. “Church” in the twenty-first century is mostly a spectator sport, and God has enough spectators. What he wants are workers. How do we raise up workers who will make a difference for God? Three ways: we plan, we pray, and we implement.

Plan

Nothing big ever happens without a plan… “For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish” (Luke 14:28–30). …and the plan should be in place before the materials (the children) show up. Parents, have a vision of what you want your children to be when they are adults, and start heading toward that goal right now, even before they are born. Plan for the good times and the difficult times before they happen. Make your decisions now, when you can think clearly, before you are in the heat of the moment. Decide how you will handle this situation and that one. Will you let the children have sleep-overs? Who, if anyone, will be allowed to babysit? Will you homeschool or send them to public or private school? Will they take dance lessons or learn cooking and carpentry and first aid skills? Will you permit shyness or teach them to be outgoing and confident? Consider how all your decisions will shape who they become, thereby dictating what they are able to do in the Lord’s work.

Pray

It goes without saying that we must pray for our children, so why is it so hard to do consistently? Is it because we are too busy to spend ten minutes on our knees asking God to use our kids for his glory? Is it because we think he is too busy to listen? We’ve all heard the story about the guy who gets to heaven and God shows him all the storehouses of blessings he wanted to give, but the guy never asked. I wonder how many of our children will miss God’s best because we didn’t make prayer a priority. Pray now. Pray often. Pray without ceasing. Don’t wait until there is a catastrophe and then beg God to get you and your kids out of it. Pray preemptively.

Implement

So how do we bring about what we want in our children’s lives? How do we implement the plan? Just as we learn the scriptures line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little, our children will learn what it means to serve God the same way. You will never get your children to a particular place if you don’t go there yourself. When the shepherd wants his flock in a particular place, he doesn’t run after them, yelling about which way to turn or barking directions about how much farther it is. He gets out in front of the flock and LEADS them. “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). If you want your kids to be hard workers, be a hard worker. If you want the girls to be contented homemakers who serve their families, be a contented homemaker who serves her family. If you want them to be soul winners, be a soul winner, and take them along so they can see how it’s done and gain confidence that it is a normal part of everyday life. Show them how we hand out tracts and tell people about Jesus everywhere we go—the bank, the gas station, Lowe’s, Walmart. They will grow up thinking this is normal, and when your kids meet people who don’t witness all the time, those people will be the oddballs. When our five kids were little, we were part of a missions-minded fellowship. There was a constant stream of missionary families always coming through, and though we had five children in a 1200-square-foot house with one bathroom, we always had missionary families staying with us. Our kids got to meet the families who were bold enough to go, and hear firsthand the stories of God working on the mission field. It gave them a taste of what was possible and greatly expanded their worldview. They learned there were billions more people in the world than just the twelve kids in their Sunday school class. By the time they were teens, our kids had seen and heard enough; they were ready to go and do. One by one they committed themselves to a short-term work they felt God would bless, and dove in wholeheartedly. On an enlisted military salary, we couldn’t help them pay for their trips. It was up to them to figure out how to do that—and what great lessons in trusting God!

Send Them Out

Our oldest son spent a college spring break with a group of young men doing construction work for a mission in Mexico. We had no money to pay for his trip, but told him we would help him pray for God’s provision. Two months before they were to go, God gave Mike a small job that would pay the full price. Watching God provide became deliriously fun sport at our house. When our second child, Deb, was sixteen, she was ready to go. She found a group that organized summer-long mission trips for teens and signed up. Her first-choice trip to Siberia was canceled due to visa problems, so she had to choose another destination. Three weeks before she was to leave, she told us she believed God wanted her to go to Cuba. When her daddy balked at that idea, she countered with, “But you said I should go someplace where people might never hear the gospel if I don’t go tell them.” God has a funny way of turning the tables on us, doesn’t he? Our goal for our kids was that they should learn to trust God completely; now we were the ones doing all the trusting. For 30 days she and her team traveled around Cuba, eating nothing but rice and beans (and dog, the one time they got meat), having no access to clean water, contracting parasites, at times being sought by the authorities for their proselytizing—and we had no communication with her at all. Now that will bring a mom and dad to their knees. In subsequent years we sent children on mission trips to Poland, Switzerland, New Zealand, Australia, and Hong Kong, always letting them trust God to provide for their needs, and what an amazing education it was for them and for us. God does not give us children so we can hoard them for ourselves, keeping them for our own enjoyment. If your view of life is so small that you can’t see past your own four walls, start inviting life in. Expand your own worldview, and take your children with you. Get to know some missionaries, and find out how your family can help them. Don’t raise your kids up to keep them close; prepare them to go out and to carry the glorious gospel of Christ with them when they go.

The Box

Author unknown — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 02:06:12 +0000

I remember a day one winter that stands out like a boulder in my life. The weather was unusually cold, our salary had not been regularly paid, and it did not meet our needs when it was. My husband was away much of the time, travelling from one district to another. Our boys were well, but my little Ruth was ailing, and at best none of us were decently clothed. I patched and re-patched, with spirits sinking to the lowest ebb. The water gave out in the well, and the wind blew through the cracks in the floor. The people in the parish were kind and generous too; but the settlement was new, and each family was struggling for itself. Little by little, at the time I needed it most, my faith began to waver. Early in life I was taught to take God at His word, and I thought my lesson was well learned, I had lived upon His promises in dark times, until I knew as David did, “who was my Fortress and Deliverer.” Now a daily prayer for forgiveness was all that I could offer. My husband’s overcoat was hardly thick enough for October, and he was often obliged to ride miles to attend some meeting or funeral. Many times our breakfast was Indian cake, and a cup of tea without sugar. Christmas was coming; the children always expecting presents. I remember the ice was thick and smooth, and the boys were each craving a pair of skates. Ruth, in some unaccountable way, had taken a fancy that the dolls I had made were no longer suitable; she wanted a nice large one, and insisted on praying for it. I knew it seemed impossible, but oh! I wanted so very much to give the children the presents they each longed for. It seemed as if God had deserted us, but I did not tell my husband all this. He worked so earnestly and heartily. I supposed him to be as hopeful as ever. I kept the sitting room cheerful with an open fire and tried to serve our scanty meals as appealingly as I could. The morning before Christmas, James was called in to see a sick man. I put up a piece of bread for his lunch – it was the best I could do – wrapped my plaid shawl around his neck, and then tried to whisper a promise as I often had, but the words died away upon my lips. I let him go without it. That was a dark, hopeless day. I coaxed the children to bed early, for I could not bear their talk. When Ruth went to bed, I listened to her prayer. She asked for the last time most explicitly for her doll, and for the skates for her brothers. Her bright face looked so lovely when she whispered to me. “You know I think they’ll be here early tomorrow morning, Mama.” I thought then that I would move heaven and earth to save her from the disappointment. I sat down alone that night and gave way to the most bitter tears. Before long James returned, chilled and exhausted. He drew off his boots: the thin stockings slipped off with them and his feet were red with cold. I wouldn’t treat a dog this way, let alone a faithful servant!” I said bitterly. Then as I glanced up and saw the hard lines in his face and the look of despair, it flashed across me – James had let go, too. I brought him a cup of tea, feeling sick and dizzy at the very thought. He took my hand and we sat for an hour without a word. I wanted to die and meet God, and tell Him His promise wasn’t true; my soul was so full of rebellious despair. There came a sound of bells, a quick stop, and a loud knock at the door. James sprang up to open it. There stood Deacon White. “A box came by express just before dark,” he said. “I brought it round as soon as I could get away. Reckon it might be for Christmas. ‘At any rate,’ I said, ‘they shall have it tonight.’ Here is a turkey my wife asked me to fetch along, and these other things I believe belong to you.” There was a basket of potatoes and a bag of flour. Talking all the time, he carried in a box, and then, with a hearty goodnight, he rode away. Still without speaking, James found a chisel and opened the box. He drew out first a thick red blanket, and saw that beneath was full of clothing. It seemed at that moment as if Christ fastened on me a look of reproach. James sat down and covered his face with his hands. “I cannot touch them,” he exclaimed; “I haven’t been true, just when God was trying me to see if I could hold out. Do you think I could not see how you were suffering? And I had no word of comfort to offer. I know now how to preach the awfulness of turning from God.” “James.” I said, clinging to him, “don’t take it to heart like this; I am to blame, I ought to have helped you. We will ask Him together to forgive us.” “Wait a moment, dear, I cannot talk now,” he said, then he went into another room. I knelt down, and my heart broke; in an instant all the darkness, all the stubbornness rolled away. Jesus came again and stood before me, but with the loving words: “Daughter!” Sweet promises of tenderness and joy flooded my soul. I was so lost in praise and gratitude that I forgot everything else. I don’t know how long it was before James came back, but I knew he, too, had found peace. “Now my dear wife,” he said, “let us thank God together.” He then poured out words of praise; Bible words, for nothing else could express our thanksgiving. It was 11 o’clock, the fire was low, and there was the great box, and nothing touched but the warn blanket we had so desperately needed. We piled on some fresh logs, lighted two candles, and began to examine our treasures. We drew out an overcoat; I made James try it on. It was just the right size and I danced around him, for all my lightheartedness had returned. There was a warm suit of clothes also, and three pairs of woolen hose. There was a dress for me, and yards of flannel; a pair of arctic overshoes for each of us, and in mine was a slip of paper. I have it now, and mean to hand it down to my children. It was Jacob’s blessing to Asher, “Thy shoes shall be iron and brass, and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.” In the gloves, evidently for James, the same dear hand had written, “I, the Lord thy God, will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, ‘Fear not, I will help thee.’” It was a wonderful box, and packed with thoughtful care. There was a suit of clothes for each of the boys and a little red gown for Ruth. There were mittens, scarves, and hoods; and down in the center, a box. We opened it and there was a great wax doll. I burst into tears again; James wept with me for the joy. It was too much; and then we both exclaimed again, for next we drew out two pairs of skates. There were books for us to read; some of them I had wished to see; stories for the children to read; aprons and underclothing; yards of ribbons; a lovely photograph; needles buttons and thread; and an envelope containing a ten-dollar gold piece. At last we cried over everything we took up. It was past midnight, and we were faint and exhausted with happiness. I made a cup of tea, cut a fresh loaf of bread and James boiled some eggs. We drew up the table before the fire – how we enjoyed our supper! And then we sat talking over our life and how sure a help God always proved to be. You should have seen the children the next morning. The boys raised a shout at the sight of their skates. Ruth caught up her doll, and hugged it tightly without a word. Then she went into her room and knelt by her bed. When she came back she whispered to me, “I knew it would be there, Mama, but I wanted to thank God just the same, you know.” “Look here, wife,” cried James. We went to the window and there were the boys out of the house already, and skating on the ice with all their might. My husband and I both tried to return thanks to the church in the East that sent us the box and have tried to return thanks unto God every day since. Hard times have come again and again, but we have trusted in Him; dreading nothing so much as a doubt of His protecting care. Over and over again we have proved that, “They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.”

Go, and Sneer No More

Debi Pearl — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 02:02:24 +0000

Over the last 40-plus years, we have watched couples fall in—and out—of love. In many cases, the ones we were certain would make it did not, and those we thought would surely end in divorce thrived in love. So what’s the secret? There are many dynamics in marriage that make it fail or flourish, but over the years there is one underlying element that has proven to be the deal maker or breaker. I don’t know if it is the cause or the symptom, but it is a certain marker…sitting in the seat of the scornful. A family full of scorn is a family headed for ruin, for scorn is the soul in decay. It is finding fault and deriding the failures of others while believing oneself to be somewhat better. The family piles into the family van to head home from church, and within seconds Mom speaks. “God help us, Mrs. Don’s makeup is so brazen it’s embarrassing.” The children register their mom’s remark while their minds take them back two minutes to when Mom stood by the van laughing and talking with Mrs. Don as if they were best friends. Mrs. Don has often entertained the children and done other nice things for their family, but… Dad interrupts, “That d@# preacher needs to learn to tell time. The deacons have warned him several times, but he doesn’t know when to shut up.” The kids see their mother’s instant disapproval for Daddy using the D-word. They know that mama reeeeally likes the preacher because she calls him every time Daddy does something bad. Something uglier than damn has taken hold of the children—it is called disrespect. And the disrespect in the children’s souls is not confined to the preacher or Mrs. Don; it is becoming a part of their worldview, and it will be directed toward the parents soon enough. Mom thinks her glance of condemnation will clear the air, but instead it further tears down the family. The next time she seeks the preacher’s advice, the children will sneer. Teenage sister is giggling with brother, “Did you see those geeky shoes Sara had on? Man, I would die before I would walk around looking like that. She is such a dork.” Sara is sister’s best friend, or at least she used to be. “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful” (Psalm 1:1). Note the digression from walking to standing to sitting. The practice of scorning quickly becomes a permanent post. As a general rule, the disease of scorning is most prominent in Christians who deem themselves most separate in doctrine and righteousness. Just as none are so obnoxious about diet as the health-food nuts, none are so obnoxious about lifestyle as fundamentalist Bible-believers and elitist homeschoolers who deem themselves above common practitioners. This is bad because being scornful has a huge negative impact throughout life. All that church-going homeschooling parents try to pour into their children will be cancelled out with this one bad habit of scorning. Children who grow up in a family where scorning is common will be molded into a worldview that will shape their choice of spouse, the way they relate in marriage, and the way they raise their children. A young girl who grows up hearing scorning will become a scorning wife. The first time her husband is a jerk—and he will be—she will resort to the lower instincts she has learned and scorn instead of pray and forgive. Her new husband will experience scorn instead of biblically mandated reverence. The equation reads like this: Her scorn = his lack of love. When they come for counsel, she will demand that he love her as Christ loved the church, and he will sheepishly tell us it is hard to love her, and we will know why. How can a man truly love a woman who treats him with disdain and disapproval? The recipe for a good marriage doesn’t include a pinch of scorn. But the husband may have come from a scorning family, so he will have scorned her family before they were married, which makes her feel justified in her contempt toward her husband. This equation reads like this: disrespect breeds disrespect, or scorn brings on deeper scorn. And like Thanksgiving turkey, it becomes a family tradition. One reason scorn, and thus divorce, has skyrocketed is the diminishing of community. People once lived and died around the same group of friends and family. People had to learn to treat their lifetime neighbors with some degree of respect. When you knew a girl might grow up and bear your grandkids, you learned to hold your ridicule if she appeared to be a little dumb. If you thought a boy could grow up and marry your daughter, you didn’t want him labeled too poorly. In that era, self-preservation depended upon the advancement of everyone within the circle. Everybody in the community was important to the community as a whole, and faults were better tolerated for the well-being of all. As a child, I knew of a family that had six daughters. The only thing I can remember about this highly intelligent, correctly religious, successful pastor’s family was the constant run of ridicule that prevailed in his household, usually directed toward a church member for being stupid, ugly, or messy. The pretty girls all married, divorced, remarried, and divorced again. Pastor Dad finally got involved in an affair, bringing his marriage to an end as well. Blessed is the family…that sitteth not in the seat of the scornful. Many of you reading this were raised around a table of scorn. You will most likely marry spouses from families that nit-picked their church members as they drove away from church each week. Or perhaps it was the previous church that they carefully dismembered. The infectious disease of mockery takes its toll. Usually the ridicule will not be harsh and is not meant to be cruel; it takes the form of offhanded remarks said in order to disparage the other. Perhaps the most damaging type of denigration for a child is when he thinks that his parents truly like and respect someone, and then as soon as they get in the car he hears the parents’ disdain for that person. Raining down dishonor on the teacher or preacher who is teaching the child the Bible will cause the child to lose his reverence for God and will surely lead to the child’s rejection of God. It doesn’t matter if the preacher deserves the reviling; is the venting worth the damage done in the heart of your child who heard you give your “spiritual” opinion? This two-faced diet breeds more of the same. Critical spirits don’t have just one home; they migrate and multiply like seed ticks. Wife against husband, husband against wife, and then children against parents; and when sin is conceived, it will keep your teenager from ever developing a healthy fear of God. Without fear of God there will be no wisdom. Fools—that’s what you will be raising. “How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity? and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge?” (Proverbs 1:22). So in the end, you might save your marriage if you happen to have married someone who doesn’t equal you in sneering, but unless someone else intervenes, your children will bear your sin and pass it on to your grandchildren. The moral of the story: Go, and sneer no more. ~ Debi

Daddy’s Pride and Joy

Shalom (Pearl) Brand — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 02:01:30 +0000

When I was a little girl, I loved to be my daddy’s “pride and joy.” I remember Shoshanna and me calling Daddy to come and watch us ride our horses, see the play house we built, or watch us swing on a rope or vine. The best part of being his pride and joy was when we came into the house and Dad bragged on us to Mom. We always knew he was glad that he was OUR daddy, and we knew he would not be as happy if we were not there to show him all of our great tricks. I am now a mother of four, and I see my own children being their daddy’s pride and joy. Just a few days ago, Daddy came home from work and the girls asked him if he would go to the creek with them and see what they could do. Even though it was fall, the evening was warm. It was almost dark as we all tromped off down the lane toward the swimming hole. Gracie, my seven-year-old, rode her 90cc Yamaha. Laila, the five-year-old, got the courage to ride her big sister’s bike so Daddy could see that she could ride a big bike. Parker, our two-year-old, kept up a steady trot, running barefoot on the gravel. He stopped occasionally to pick up rocks but never stopped talking. I carried sleeping Roland in my arms. As we strolled, I thought, “Life doesn’t get much better than this.” Gracie, being on a dirt bike, got to the creek before we did, so she made a big loop around the tree line before coming back toward us. That was when she ran over a small log, which made her struggle to maintain control of the bike. She succeeded in staying upright and continued to where we were. Her voice was shaky as she told her daddy what happened; she was trying hard not to cry. Seeing her distress, Daddy knew just what to do. He started praising her for not giving up and staying on her bike, continuing to ride to where we were. I reinforced what he was saying by telling her that she would be a stronger person because of that log in her way. When we got to the swimming hole, the children all shouted, “Let’s go swimming!” Soon the girls and Parker were each yelling louder and louder to get their daddy to see what they could do. Laila was swinging and dropping into the deep water, then swimming out again. Gracie wanted to show him how she could swing one-armed and do tricks on the rope. Parker, not wanting to be outdone by the girls, was swinging out over the creek and pulling his legs up and over his head, swinging upside down. Then he smiled with delight as his daddy clapped in praise. It was heavenly fun. The sunlight that had been over the water began to disappear, so we knew our playtime was over. Gracie and Laila climbed back on their bikes, still dripping and chilled. Gracie laughingly said that her riding boots were filling with water from her dripping shorts but it would not slow her down. As Justin and I walked into the tree-covered, shadowed lane, we were amazed that our wet little girls could jump on bikes and ride for home. I do not think I would even be that brave today! I know that being their daddy’s pride and joy, they have the courage and confidence to try new things. Even if at times it is a little hard and a log gets in the way and it is not all smooth going, they will see it as a chance to become a stronger individual. This evening’s adventure will not soon be forgotten. As the winter approaches, the children will look longingly at the creek and talk of what daring feats they will accomplish next summer when they will REALLY show Daddy how high they can swing. I have seen adults who are afraid to step out, afraid to fail, so they do not even try. They never were someone’s pride and joy. Make sure your kids know that you are proud of them, even in the little things, so they will want to make you proud in the big things. Even now if you were to come by my parents’ home, you might find any one of us five kids telling Big Papa (Dad) something we have accomplished. You know from reading his writing over the years that he still brags on us even though we are all grown with children of our own. It’s my delight to pass his wonderful pride and joy secret to my children and, hopefully, now to yours.