Narration and writing about faith

In our little homeschool, one of the techniques we use for learning and comprehension is narration.  It is the practice of using unpolished language as a means of building knowledge.   I will read a short passage from a book or explain a mathematical concept, then my son will tell back what information stood out to him in his own words.  Narration converts short-term memory into long-term memory.  Well-known educator Charlotte Mason developed this method by observing how small children naturally parrot the words spoken to them by the adults and older children in their family.  Our two year old is clearly in the phase of repeating any one sentence a half of a dozen times with a big grin on his face while watching how Kyle and I react to his ideas.  He's the most verbal two year old we've had the privilege of raising; it's a treat and often quite humorous to hear his vernacular evolve. 

For a more thorough explanation of narration, here is a quote of Charlotte Mason in her own words:

“This, of getting ideas out of them, is by no means all we must do with books. ‘In all labor there is profit,’ at any rate in some labor, and the labor of thought is what his book must induce in the child. He must generalise, classify, infer, judge, visualize, discriminate, labor in one way or another, with that capable mind of his, until the substance of his book is assimilated or rejected, according as he shall determine; for the determination rests with him and not with his teacher.” (Vol. 3, p. 179)

I wish I had grown up with this method in my own education.  I am quite a talker and often chat incessantly with my husband once the kids have gone to bed about all I've learned throughout the day.  I relay information that I've learned while teaching our oldest child, interesting topics from podcasts, highlights from the news stories I've read, and details from an Old Testament book that I had not been ready to appreciate before my most recent reading.    In my early season of motherhood with babies and toddlers, these nightly conversations were one of the most satisfying parts of my day.  They contrasted with the rote nature of changing diapers, feeding every few hours, folding laundry, and rereading Goodnight Moon for the bazillionth time.  I didn't realize that I was continuing my education beyond enjoying the materials I was reading or listening to by talking about them. 

There is another area where I've benefited from narration (whilst ignorant that narration was occurring).  I have had many opportunities in the last couple of years to teach Bible stories to children.  While I thought I was fairly familiar with the Bible, I had difficulty communicating what I knew.  I had never really written much in my Bible studies, and what I had written was primarily for my personal application of the text.  Coming up with how to convey God's word concisely and clearly for children immeasurably sharpened my ability to talk about my faith.  Teaching in Sunday school and at Bible Study Fellowship has helped me greatly when my children approach me with questions about the Bible.  Very rarely do I feel like I lack adequate answers. 

I haven't blogged much in the years since becoming a mother in spite of a continued desire to do so.  Often my mind is full of good ideas throughout the day.  But just as often when I set aside the time to sit at my computer and compose something, I come up blank.  I am a bit envious of the days when I had ample time to read and outline for a long post.  My better writings from younger years have been a hindrance to recording the simple reflecting I am doing now.  But I believe that there is value in what I have learned through narrating the gospel to little ones.  God can be glorified in many ways.  I hope to share more about my faith on the old blog here forward.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel... for in it the righteousness of God is revealed.
{Romans 1:16-17}

Abounding in Love to All Who Call to You

Jesus, the name that calms our fears

That bids our sorrows cease

I was praying what I should write about today.  Sometimes the drive to write is great, but there are dozens of ideas bouncing around inside my head.  The words that surfaced to the top in answer to my prayer are the ones written above.  Can Jesus' name really do these things?  

I have helicopter mom tendencies.  The hardest part of being a mother for me is trying to protect my children from pain and suffering.  The past month has pushed me to some new limits- experiences that demonstrate how truly helpless I am in keeping my children safe.  On the less harmful end of the spectrum, my two year old started giving our baby love bites.  She gets so wrapped up in her excited affection that kisses simply don't cut it (literally!).  As she tries to show her love, she will end up harming the chubby little object of all her feelings.  My four year old has also recently taken on a protective role over his younger siblings.  In an effort to shepherd his sister, he will occasionally tackle, push, or squeeze her mightily.  All of this makes parenting feel like an athletic event in which I'm a referee.  

On the scarier end of anxiety-inducing events, we had two very close calls with our boys.  My four year old discovered how to unlatch and open his bedroom window on our second story.  We don't know how long ago he figured out how to do this, but by God's grace the loud A/C unit started while I was hanging out with him.  The A/C is on the ground outside, and it sounded much louder than normal thus revealing a window slightly cracked.  I have had no darker thoughts than imagining what could have happened had I not learned about this.  

The second instance again reveals the loving heart of our two year old toward our baby.  When Kyle gets home from works, he routinely snacks on almonds as he prepares supper.  Naturally, he shares with the kids as they eagerly ask for some.  Our little girl has a generous spirit; she truly loves to share.  She took one almond and popped it right into the mouth of our 5 month old.  Again, it could easily have been missed had I been in another room or distracted.  Again, God permitted me to take my child out of danger before something terrible occurred.  

I have never been so great at handling stress.  I may actually be the worst at it.  In the toughest parts of my day, I often speak the name "Jesus" aloud.  Not in the exasperated curse we often hear in tv shows or out of our peers' mouths.  I call out to him and just say his name.  He knows my struggles, and he wants me to call out to him.  I ask for forgiveness in trying to control situations.  I ask him to grow my trust in him because he's actually the one in control.  I pray that he knows my heart-- he,too, is a rescuer.  I pray he'd refine my desire to be a rescuer of my children to be more like him.  Jesus came to bear the pain and suffering of death on a cross so that forever I can live with him and experience peace.  Peace is always what I crave and think about when I'm frazzled to the max.  Jesus, the giver of peace, help me shoulder the responsibilities of being a mother in a way that glorifies you.

Yes, to the question I asked earlier.  Jesus' name can calm our fears and put an end to our sorrows because of who he is and what he has done and what he is doing now.  He is savior.  He is my friend.  He gives me an example to follow.  He rescued his children from death.  He promised to be with me.  He promised that one day there will be an end to pain and loss.  He gave me my children.  He intercedes on my behalf even now.  He desires my prayers and he will answer.  When I say his name, I acknowledge all of these things.  I have confidence in my Jesus.

I will add one final thought~ this entry was semi-inspired by Psalm 86 which I will leave for you to read below.  Thank you for reading, friend.

Hear me, Lord, and answer me,

    for I am poor and needy.

Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;

    save your servant who trusts in you.

You are my God; have mercy on me, Lord,

    for I call to you all day long.

Bring joy to your servant, Lord,

    for I put my trust in you.

You, Lord, are forgiving and good,

    abounding in love to all who call to you.

Hear my prayer, Lord;

    listen to my cry for mercy.

When I am in distress, I call to you,

    because you answer me.

Among the gods there is none like you, Lord;

    no deeds can compare with yours.

All the nations you have made

    will come and worship before you, Lord;

    they will bring glory to your name.

For you are great and do marvelous deeds;

    you alone are God.

Teach me your way, Lord,

    that I may rely on your faithfulness;

give me an undivided heart,

    that I may fear your name.

I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart;

    I will glorify your name forever.

For great is your love toward me;

    you have delivered me from the depths,

    from the realm of the dead.

Arrogant foes are attacking me, O God;

    ruthless people are trying to kill me—

    they have no regard for you.

But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God,

    slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.

Turn to me and have mercy on me;

    show your strength in behalf of your servant;

save me, because I serve you

    just as my mother did.

Give me a sign of your goodness,

    that my enemies may see it and be put to shame,

    for you, Lord, have helped me and comforted me.

Boldly Going

Right before Moses died, he gave some final words to the people of Israel.  Moses reminded a young generation of Israelites that God told them to go to the land of Canaan and receive it. God had given it to them.  Then he said:

But you were unwilling to go up; you rebelled against the command of the Lord your God.  You grumbled in your tents and said, “The Lord hates us; so he brought us out of Egypt to deliver us into the hands of the Amorites to destroy us.  Where can we go? Our brothers have made our hearts melt in fear. They say, ‘The people are stronger and taller than we are; the cities are large, with walls up to the sky...’” {deuteronomy 1:26-28}  

I'd like to contrast this with a familiar story from the New Testament.  As the news of Jesus spread throughout Galilee, Judea, and Jerusalem, more people came to witness him teach and heal.  On one particular occasion, Pharisees and teachers of the law were sitting and observing Jesus while he healed the sick.

Some men came carrying a paralyzed man on a mat and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus.  When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus.

When Jesus saw their faith, he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.”

The Pharisees and the teachers of the law began thinking to themselves, “Who is this fellow who speaks blasphemy? Who can forgive sins but God alone?” {luke 5:18-21}

So these two true stories illustrate something meaningful to me.  How do you let your circumstances and influential people determine if you pursue God and his plans for you?  In the first story, the Israelites see opposition and conclude that God hates them.  I admit there are a number of times where my circumstances have led me to similar (yet devastatingly inaccurate) thoughts about God.  If God loves me, shouldn't I find his favor in my current situation?  Because that is the predominant attitude in our culture, it's easy to arrive at this assumption.  If you aren't for me, you are a "hater"; "good vibes" only, please.  But God intended for the Israelites to be led into a war in order to fulfill His plan.  Not exactly favorable circumstances.  And yet God's plan was good: His purpose was to dwell among them.

The second story is similar.  The group of friends are going to the place where the Lord Jesus is.  When they arrive, they discover that the path is obstructed.  Unbeknownst to them Jesus is surrounded by enemies as well.  Surely they would have recognized the Pharisees and teachers of the law as important men of God.  Maybe they would have determined, like the Israelites in the first story, that it was impossible to reach their destination.  Who would cut in front of the most important men in the nation?  There would certainly be consequences for that.  Yet somehow their desire to see Jesus and their belief in him shifted their focus from their circumstances.  They pressed on.

Lately I have been anxious about our family's future.  I keep weighing options and trying to plan what I should do.  But God has shown me that he has a plan for the next year that will be very good for all of us.  Still I keep asking, "But what about the year after that?"  My fears, like the Israelites, have me concerned about moving forward.  My impulse is to be like them and despair~ God has brought me this far just to abandon me!  But then God divinely times my reading of the story of the paralyzed man.  A man who knows he can do nothing for himself is placed in the hands of Jesus.  It is a literal picture of faith in God.  My plans should be put into the hands of God.  I need to start believing that what he does is for my benefit.

As hard as it is to comprehend, sometimes God's plan is to take you as an untrained soldier to the fortified walls of Jericho or lower you as a paralyzed man into a house full of Pharisees.  The victory and the healing aren't determined by the circumstances.  They are accomplished by God.  And God is good to reveal to us that he can be trusted especially in the impossible moments.  I am the one who must remember who God is and that he can be trusted.  I am the one who must go to where he can be found and put my faith in him.  I don't have to know the outcome, but I can boldly go forward because God is good.

Crescendo

Five years ago I was expecting my first child.  With a few short months left before his arrival, life had a surprisingly slow pace.  I was not employed and shared a car with my husband.  Many days while he was at work, I was limited to about a 2 mile radius in my neighborhood where my very swollen feet could carry me.  I'm pretty sure I devoured Eric Metaxas' Dietrich Bonhoeffer book in record time (quite a dense tome if you are not familiar with it) because I had the luxury of abundant time.  I look back on this season with a mix of envy and gratitude.  It would be a gift to live a day that simply now.

Most days now have life crammed into every minute.  I have three children ages 4, 2, and 2 months.  My hands have never been busier.  Whether it's carrying people upstairs to their beds, making sandwiches, folding laundry, piecing together the robot puzzle for the millionth time, or gently rocking the baby, I am willing to claim my professional title is "manual laborer".  

Beyond that, every moment is filled with noise.  Sometimes I can hear the words from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" in my head about how the Grinch bemoans the noise of the Whos down in Whoville.  While I don't hate the noise like he did, it certainly can overwhelm me.  Nothing in life had prepared me for living with a 4 year old boy whose main thrill in life is bashing one thing into another thing.  And if not that, then seeing how loud he can thud as he jumps off of the furniture.  My two year old little girl has the most impressive voice.  Typically she can charm with her adorable mimicry of everything she hears.  But if she gets angry, she can scream with the force of a banshee.  I am not sure if it's my imagination, but I think when she does it I lose my ability to see straight.  Adding a newborn to this mix guaranteed that the concept of silence was all but banished in our home.  

And while most of my attention has been trained on caring for my children, it seems like the outside world has become busier and noisier at the same breakneck pace as my home life.  The news cycle, diversification of entertainment sources, social media feeds, and accessibility to advanced technologies has transformed our culture in the blink of an eye.  Personally, five years ago we went from having an enormous old t.v. with an antenna and dvd player, one online social media account, and a basic cell phone that I used primarily as a telephone.  I'll admit though that even at the time that was a bit old fashioned.  

To illustrate how much has changed, I recently had a conversation at a wedding where I shared that my husband and I got married before Pinterest and Instagram.  No selfies or hashtags or pinspiration.  I have another instance I could share.  Like most folks at the time, I listened to the NPR Serial podcast.  At one point it had crossed my mind that I was glad there was a subreddit for this viral podcast so that I could get other folks' perspectives (plus giggle about Mailchimp being the culprit).  It's not just that our interactions with the world have changed, our very vernacular has changed with it.  This whole paragraph would have been utter nonsense to me a mere decade ago.

It feels like the very tempo of life is speeding up; that somewhere, someone is speeding up the metronome and with it gradually turning up the volume.  The news reports of a new natural disaster, a new armed conflict abroad, a new tragedy at home on a daily or sometimes hourly basis.  Then the commercials cut in with the newest smartphone with the greatest data plan or the newest cosmetics to stay fresher and younger longer.  It's enough to make one's head spin.  Is this reality or is it my perception?  

Jesus says, "You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.  Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places.  All these are the beginning of birth pains." {Matthew 24:6-8}  As someone who is intimately familiar with birth pains, I can attest to their gradual pace of increased frequency and intensity.  Contractions start seemingly randomly and as labor begins, an unmistakable rhythm arises-- measurable by the distance of time between each one.  And with each one, the pain grows.  This is what this age feels like.  

In the case of labor, this process in the best scenarios results in the birth of a baby.  But what does it mean for this age?  Jesus tells us this information to help us be aware of his second coming.  I will confess that I am not asserting that the end is coming now.  Nobody knows that with certainty, and if someone tells you that they know, they are lying to you.  I want to emphasize why it matters to pay attention to the changing times.  Jesus again says, "Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near." {Matthew 24:32}  Just as a plant shows signs and responds to the changing of seasons, so too do the events in history and current affairs reflect the changing of something.  

Again, Jesus return is forthcoming but may not be imminent.  So if we can't know for sure why, is it important to consider?  Because the alternative of not paying attention and not being ready is worse.  

" For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark;  and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man...So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him." {Matthew 24:38-39, 44}

Jesus commands that we be ready for his return.  How can we be ready if we aren't paying attention?  To go back to the parallel with labor, I will share a bit about my last one.  Everyone tells you that your third baby comes earlier and faster than the first two.  I did everything I could to prepare in advance for an early arrival.  Was a month too early to consider?  Well, the weeks leading up to the due date passed uneventfully.  Then the due date came and went.  I even tried to bring about my labor by going on a 5.5 mile walk pushing my double stroller with my four and two year olds along for the ride.  Still nothing.  Even when I thought I knew my baby would come, labor was elusive.  A week after the due date, it finally happened.  Even still my expectation was for it to go quickly.  And much to my surprise (and chagrin), it was my longest labor to date.

I was eagerly waiting and looking for signs that meant I would soon meet my baby.  In the same way, Jesus wants us to be alert and attuned to the signs of his return.  My Braxton-Hicks contractions weren't part of labor; perhaps the events we see unfolding around us today aren't the beginning of the end.  Yet my Braxton-Hicks contractions kept me mindful about what was to come; my body was preparing for the birth of a baby.  Paul wrote that, "We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time." {Romans 8:22}  Two thousand years ago, Paul was looking forward to Christ's return.  Even though it didn't happen then, it doesn't prove that he was wasting his time.  Instead it is an example of how every believer in every age ought to live~ in eager anticipation of Jesus' return.  Isn't that worth being ready for?

About the crescendo of activity both at home and in the broader culture~ I want my response to move me closer to Jesus.  I don't want to focus on the drama or despair or anxiety it all may induce.  I want it to be a reminder that everything is moving towards the day I meet Jesus face to face.  Maybe I will get to meet Him soon or maybe it will be many years from now. No matter when I do meet Him, I will hopefully have lived sincerely anticipating that day.

Music Mania and Melancholy

Around Easter, I had an idea about asking for a piano.  We didn't have the money for it or seemingly the space for it.  So as quickly as the thought entered my mind, I suppressed the notion as a foolish daydream. 

A little huge background...  I grew up playing music.  I know you've met people who have played one or two instruments in their youth and let it fall by the wayside.  That was not me.  I started by playing piano at age 5.  My enrollment in the church choir began the same year, and I remained in it until graduating high school.  At schoolI had my first solo in a play in the fourth grade (it was a ridiculous Save the Earth show; I sang a carpooling ballad.  If you'd like to hear it, I still have it memorized).  My elementary music career was rounded out with participating in statewide honor chorus.  Plus everyone got to play the recorder~I'm claiming that one, too.

In middle school, I began ringing handbells at church.  At school I started playing baritone (or euphonium if that's what you are into).  I had such dedicated teachers that they were able to petition the county for a four valve baritone for me to learn how to play.  I called it the 'Silver Tuna' (did that come from Home Alone?).  I joined the middle school jazz band which met outside of school hours at first playing piano and then delving into mallet percussion. 

By high school I wasn't taking piano lessons anymore because marching band took over.  I was in the pit as a new percussionist.  At first I received all the auxiliary parts (triangles, wood block, pre-school rhythm instruments, etc), but quickly earned parts on the xylophone, bells, and vibraphone.  We competed at the Bands of America competition regularly and traveled to perform in bowl game parades. 

At church I was still singing and ringing.  My freshman year I got a part in the play Godspell; my sister and I performed "By My Side".  The following summer our choir toured New England where my sister and I performed that song regularly for unfamiliar audiences.  At other points in high school, I played with a percussion ensemble and an advanced handbell choir which had 5 members play on (I believe) three octaves of bells.  For a short period of time my church purchased a drum kit and allowed me to take lessons in the hopes of starting a praise band.  It was a short-lived season of feeling like a rock star.

One semester I asked my band directors to allow me to drop band to take AP music theory.  They were inflexible about my decision, so I quit band, took up piano lessons again, and took the AP class.  My senior year culminated in piano recitals, getting a 5 on my AP exam, and being the stage manager for the musical Jesus Christ Superstar at church. 

I went to Georgia Tech where there isn't a huge music program.  If this counts, I drove my freshman hall bonkers by singing prog rock and alternative music at the top of my lungs like a lunatic.  After failing Calc I, I almost transferred to Shorter College where I would have taken up a piano and vocal major.  I had a friend at Georgia State doing their music program; he lent me a classical guitar so that I wouldn't go nuts without instruments.  I had a number of good friends who taught me how to play the basic chords on guitar.  Not my strongest instrument, but I played at a few open mic nights for fun.

The highlight of music in college was discovering that the music recording and audio class counted toward a computer science credit.  Somehow I got into a class with some serious musicians who knew their soundboards and acoustics and whatnot.  It seems unfair that I learned how to digitally record music instead of writing code in some geeky language.

This is all to say music performance and education has been a defining experience in my life.  And until recently it was relegated to the dusty shelves of history.  Sure, I'll occasionally play the guitar with my bluegrass allstar husband.  But typically it is more discouraging than anything.  I think it's how athletes past their prime must feel.  I needed a miracle for this sad state to change.

And a miracle I did get.  Precisely one month after Easter and that lost-cause wish, I received a free piano.  It had been sitting in my brother-in-law's office at church (he's a pastor in a nearby city).  The church had used them in yesteryear for Sunday school worship but had decommissioned them the way I suppose most churches do nowadays.  Our own church has cd players in every room with a variety of worship albums for children.  Well, I gladly received the well-worn and glorious instrument into my home. 

Who has ever heard of a church giving a regular nobody a piano?  Just when you think your desires are silly, small, absurd, or whatever, God goes and turns your grief into joy.  I will say personally that being a mother of two small children requires sacrificing so many of the things that make me feel like me.  I mentioned in my previous entry that writing has been a struggle.  I used to be a much more dedicated runner.  It used to not take me two years to read a 700 page book (no exaggeration...).  I never landed a job in my field before my son was born.  I have no regrets about becoming a mother.  I just began to wonder how much of me had to be chipped away for all this new life.

It's true God takes things away.  If you've made it this far, you possibly perceived my musical pride in all I accomplished in my early years.  God lovingly took a good thing from me so that I didn't become rotten.  More important, He took away an idol which may have prevented me from ever truly knowing Him.  I sang untold songs about Him, rang untold melodies in His house, and enjoyed the laud my talents earned me.  But I did it all without knowing Him.  To adapt 1 Corinthians 13:1 for an illustration, I'd say: If I sing in tongues of men or of angels, but do not have God's love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal (italics indicate my changes).  Paul goes on to say that I am nothing and that I gain nothing using God's gifts absent of his loving purpose.  I would be worse off now if I had achieved musical success in some professional way but never acknowledged God as the source of my talents or never thanked Him for making me in such a special way.  

God restores.  My piano is nothing glamorous.  But the miracle continued to unfold when we discovered it didn't even need to be tuned--even after being hauled in a hot truck through an Atlanta summer afternoon.  I experience such delight when I sit down and discover what my fingers still remember.  I get carried away when I start to play.  At church when I hear a song or hymn I like, I come home and teach myself the songs.  Nothing fancy but enough to sing to my heart's content.  In some ways this feels more special than any of the small town limelight I had years ago.  A gift from my Lord so that I may bless His name in my home.  It's sweet and sincere and oh so satisfying.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

Psalm 13:6

He Whispers, "Write!"

Obviously it's been a long time since I've written.  I love to write.  I am always churning, processing, and reflecting on the things I learn from God's word as well as news stories and my personal experiences.  Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with thoughts that I just have to fall asleep for a break (and sometimes the thinks prevent sleep...).  When I write, I love uninterrupted time to put all my thoughts down, organize them, and take time to hit the thesaurus to make sure I convey the exact right meaning which I intend to communicate.  However, being a stay-at-home mom has taught me that interruptions are a part of life.  A dominant part of life in my case. 

With that said, I have been rather inflexible and unwilling to compromise my writing process.  Indeed I developed it over many years.  Hello, I'm a binge writer, and I can't quit.  When I can't complete a blog post, it simply is banished to the realm of Drafts.  I simply can't pick up where I left off because I can't return to my previous frame of mind.  This may be a major weakness.  Just imagine authoring a book~ it would take a miracle for me to do that in my lifetime!

So here's my problem.  For nearly a year now, in the quietest of moments God has been calling me to write.  It happens when I'm at church.  It happens when I'm folding laundry.  It happens as I'm taking children upstairs for nap time.  It happens when I lay down at night, and I know I let another day pass in which I didn't write.  He doesn't belabor the point when he speaks to me.  He always whispers, "Write!"  The initial effect of this entreaty is quite motivating.

Yet beyond my writing method, I have been uncertain what precisely is to be my subject.  Who am I writing to or for?  I have used this an excuse, saying, "God, I'll write if you tell me what to write.  God, I'll write if you tell me who my audience is.  God, I'll write if the kids nap for 2.5 hours today..."  The list goes on.

Then I read that Moses, Elijah, Jonah, Jeremiah, Peter, Gideon, Barak, and Zechariah (John the Baptist's father) all had times where they were reluctant to follow the call God had given them.  I'm sure this is a short sampling of the people God has asked to believe in him and to do his will who had reservations at times.  Yet in spite of their own feelings or desires, they chose to obey.  They didn't do it alone; God enabled them to do the tasks each were given. 

So I suppose this is me saying:  God, I want to obey you.  I thank you that you have not stopped leading me to write when I may have let it fall by the wayside in this season of life.  Help me write in a way that gives you the glory. 

The Second Best Bible Story (Pt. III)

The people journeyed farther from the land they had known to a place God would show them just as their ancestors had done hundreds of years before.  The man who had stood in God's presence and led the people prepared a message of warning for the people on the eve of entering their new country, saying:

"You yourselves know how we lived before and how we passed through the countries on the way here. You saw among them their worthless idols of wood and stone, of silver and gold. Make sure there is no one among you today whose heart turns away from the Lord our God to go and worship the gods of those countries; make sure there is no root among you for it produces such bitter poison.

"When such a person hears the words of his oath to God and they invoke a blessing on themselves, thinking, “I will be safe, even though I persist in going my own way,” they will bring disaster on the land. The Lord will never be willing to forgive them; his wrath and zeal will burn against them.

"All the nations will ask: 'Why has the Lord done this to this land? Why this fierce, burning anger?'  And the answer will be: 'It is because this people abandoned the covenant of the Lord, the God of their ancestors, the covenant he made with them when he brought them out of slavery. They went off and worshiped other gods and bowed down to them, gods they did not know, gods he had not given them'...In furious anger and in great wrath the Lord will uproot them from this land and thrust them into another land."

Faithfulness and undivided hearts to God were the requirement for receiving and keeping this new country.  And so by God's leading and might, they settled in the land by battle and treaties with the people already there.  The people held to God but gradually adopted the practices of their neighbors.  The warning began to come true.  Invasions and military confrontations threatened their peace, but a renewal of devotion to God led to restoration.  In such times, God would raise a leader from among the people to protect them and remind them of the binding relationship they had with him.  This age lasted for over three centuries.

New generations forgot the faithfulness of God; they had not experienced freedom from slavery nor had they been fed from the skies.  They had not watched their numerous enemies defeated by miraculous events in battle.  They had not remembered that the houses and vineyards they enjoyed were built and planted by the enemies of God for their provision.  The people had wandering eyes.  They began to look at neighboring countries and desire more than just their customs.  They chose to practice idol worship with all the revelry and self-satisfaction those religions aroused. The people implemented a monarchy as other countries had.  They still professed to love God, but how could it be with all these new allegiances?  The people persisted in devoting themselves to lifestyles that pushed God out. 

For a time God prospered his treasured people giving them kings and priests who honored him.  Yet even the good kings failed to follow God wholeheartedly.  Some priests even lost their way. And while the splendor of the nation was at its peak, the kingdom began to crumble.  A rebellion arose dividing the nation in two.  The smaller kingdom to the south had God's temple where the worship of the Lord continued. 

The more populous kingdom to the north needed to distinguish its identity from what they had been.  Their new king devised a plot to secure the people's loyalty and prevent them from returning to their former king and to the worship of the Lord.  The king had two golden calves crafted placing them in two prominent towns.  He invented a religion and arbitrarily selected priests to promote it.  He fabricated shrines all over the land.  He made counterfeits of the holidays God had established and selected dates and meanings for them randomly.  The people followed his lead and gave offerings as if this were a legitimate religion.  The king's betrayal to God was institutionalized and the people were deceived.  When their hearts were devoted to inanimate objects instead of God, they intentionally discarded the oath they had made with God.  This is how they purposefully forgot him to do as they pleased.

The Adoration of the Golden Calf by Nicolas Poussin [source]

Text adapted primarily from Deuteronomy 29 and 1 Kings 12.