My husband shared his testimony on Good Friday.

Not the one that begins with, “I was raised in a Christian home.” Even if that were true for him, that’s not where he started. Instead he shared about what God is doing in his life right now. Currently. Today.

Tears were streaming down my face as I held our daughter on my lap and simultaneously tried to silence our son while listening in rapt attention. This man, whom when we were married, was not following God (actually neither of us were) was sharing about a God who is alive and active in his life – TODAY.

I was challenged by what he shared and so very proud of him. I was blown away by the depth of his relationship with God.

The question that was posed to him when asked if he would consider sharing, was one we should all consider: What is God doing in your life right now?

Not three years ago. Not that unforgettable mountaintop moment when God showed up in an unmistakable way – twelve months ago. But today. Right now.

You see, a relationship with the Father is alive. It continues to evolve day after day. We all should be able to answer that question with ways God is currently revealing Himself to us, or how He is teaching us, or convicting us, or demonstrating His love to us.

God is Creator and is fully capable of creating new experiences and new depths of relationship with each one of His children. Our relationship with Him is not meant to grow stagnant. It is dynamic and ever-deepening.

How do we know the message of Easter is true? How can we be sure He’s alive? Because He’s alive in us. His fingerprints are all over our lives.

How would you respond to that question? What is God doing in your life today?

(Click to view my husband’s Good Friday Testimony[1]

We awaken in the middle of the night to her screams.

The thunder is loud, the lightning flashes wildly and the rain pounds against the windows.

We bring her to our bed and within seconds of snuggling her between us, her older brother runs screaming into our room and dives beneath the blankets at my feet.

Now we are four in the bed.

Minutes later the hydro goes off and the house is plunged into complete darkness. No warm glow from the nightlight. No red glare from the bedside clock.

Daddy gets out of bed to find a flashlight and check the sump pump. I watch his silhouette in the hall pausing by the window to peer out into the wild storm.

I slip quietly out of bed to join him at the window.

In the dark of night when the wind howls and the rain comes in sheets, it’s easy to imagine all sorts of terrible things.

“Are you worried about a tornado?” I whisper.

“The thought crossed my mind,” he whispers back.

Suddenly the two little ones realize we are both gone from the bed and they start crying again.

I slip back beneath the blankets and snuggle them close. Their sobs subside.

In the silence a few minutes later, she whispers, “Mama, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

Then again, only minutes later, her tiny voice quivers as she repeats the question, “Mama, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” I hold her hand in the dark.

I realize then that I am completely powerless to protect her in the event of more severe weather.

But she doesn’t know that. She feels safe in my presence.

I think of the One who can protect us. The One in whose presence we are truly safe. I whisper in the quietness of my mind, “Father, are you still there?”

I think of tsunamis and earthquakes and far-away places recently devastated and wonder if people whispered the same in the dark of their night.

He responds here as surly as He does there, “I am here. I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Wild weather does not mean He has abandoned His people. Desperate circumstances are no indicator of His absence. In fact, they may just be a sure sign that He is so very near.

Then He quiets the storm. The rain slows and the wind decreases and the thunder is silenced. The hydro is restored and the little ones eventually are convinced it’s safe enough to curl up in their own beds.

He is here in the storm – always.

What storm are you in the midst of? How can you reach out to the One who is still there?

Last Sunday our family embarked on a seven-day media fast – a challenge from our local church. No TV, no internet, no email, no BlackBerry, and no video games. We had a week of no screens in our home, and it was wonderful.

Not easy – but wonderful.

We spent time together as a family around the table playing games.

We implemented a devotional time with our kids right before bed, replacing our tradition of eating snacks in front of a cartoon.

We started a gratitude wall, in which we posted things we were thankful for with sticky notes on our patio door. 

We felt we had space to breathe.

But it wasn’t easy.

My husband desperately wanted to know the scores of the hockey play-offs. I desperately wanted to read my favourite blogs. My son desperately wanted to play Nascar, and my daughter had a couple of meltdowns when I refused to turn on Treehouse.

My favourite moment was the time my son and I spent around the kitchen table on Sunday afternoon – a time he would typically be spending with Daddy playing video games – doing Bible study together. I helped him find passages on the sovereignty of God in his Bible and we talked about them together. Then he wanted to mark the words like I do (Precept Upon Precept), so we started a binder for him and I taught him how. What a blessing to see him excited about Bible study!

On the last day of the media fast, we asked our children what they had learned. Our daughter said, “I learned I love God the most.”

Exactly, little one.

I was reminded when life gets too busy to connect meaningfully with my family or with God, it’s too busy. Period.

I enjoyed the break from this space, but am glad to be back.

Today is Palm Sunday.

The day when crowds of people shouted “Hosanna” when Christ rode into the city on a donkey. They waved palm branches in celebration and called Him Son of David. Only He knew that in less than a week, those same people would be shouting, “Crucify Him.”

Today marks five days until Good Friday, the day we remember His sacrifice. Seven days until Easter Sunday, the day we celebrate His glorious resurrection.

Our small family was enjoying dinner around the table a few nights ago, when we broke the news to our children.

We are planning a seven day media fast.

“What is a fast?” the boy asked. “Like how fast I can go on my bike?”

We tried to explain the concept of giving up something, of removing distractions, so we could focus more fully on God and one another.

“But what about my Nascar game? Does that mean I can’t play it anymore? I don’t like a fast,” he concluded.

It isn’t going to be easy – for any of us.  

Our church has issued a challenge to all within it’s walls. The challenge is to fast from all media from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday (with the exception of what is needed for work). Each family can decide for themselves exactly what that will look like. For us, we have decided that for the next seven days, we will not watch TV, use the internet, play video games, text, or email.

That means my newly acquired BlackBerry will go in a drawer. I will refrain from reading  my very favourite blogs. I will not check my email. It will be so hard…

Shutting out these distractions will give us more time together as a family, interacting over activities like board games, reading stories, and playing outdoors with our children. The time gained will also free us up to spend more time with God.

“It’s not going to be easy, son, but we do it to show God we love Him first and most, ” my husband explained.

The road to the cross certainly wasn’t easy either. Surely we can do this.

He tilts his head at me and asks, “Mom, why do they call it Good Friday? It wasn’t good, because that’s when Jesus died.”

Good question from a good-hearted boy.

“It doesn’t seem good, does it? But it was God’s plan from the beginning to save us from our sins. It is good because now we can go to heaven.”

So, for the next seven days, there will be no new posts here. I will be spending time with my family and with my God. My blogging will resume on Monday, April 25th.

I am expecting God will do great things in our family and in my relationship with Him, and I can’t wait to share them with you after Easter.

Will you consider fasting from media – or perhaps something else – as you journey toward the remembrance of the cross?

How can you eliminate distractions this Easter to focus more fully on Christ?

Inspired by Beth Moore’s Scripture Siesta challenge, our goal is to memorize 24 passages of Scripture in a year. Here is my choice to commit to memory over the next two weeks:

I have the privilege of preaching at my home church in the month of May. I say privilege because it is … and because I’m trying to convince myself not to turn tail and run (I’ve already mentally calculated the nearest exit to my customary seat in the sanctuary).

I’ve only preached once before and it was in a much smaller setting, before people I didn’t know very well.

The thought of speaking in front of those in my own church family – people with whom I work and serve beside every day, people I love dearly - should give me comfort. But quite frankly it makes my stomach flip, my palms grow clammy, and my neck blotchy with nerves.

It is way beyond my comfort zone and I know I can’t do it on my own. I have no formal training and very little experience.

I desperately need Him … and maybe that is the point.

Truly, apart from Him I can do nothing (John 15:5).

I’m praying these words from Psalm 56 running through my mind daily in the weeks to come will remind me to put my trust in God as I step out in fear.

And they might even stop me from sneaking out the back door on the big day!

Sometimes the words don’t come as one cohesive package. This is one of those times.

There are things that have been running through my mind recently, but not all are related to one another. Questions prompting me to take a look at my life. Biblical truths causing me to examine where I am compared to where God wants me to be. 

I challenge you to consider them as well.

• A question in Crazy Love by Francis Chan: “What are you doing right now that requires faith?” 

Truthfully, when I look at my life there is very little that requires me to live by faith. We have an income that provides well for our family’s needs, with a little left over to indulge in our wants. I have a husband who takes care of his family well and a job in ministry in which my giftings are used. All in all, it’s a nice, comfortable life.

But without faith it is impossible to please God.

What if I wasn’t afraid to jump into situations in which I was forced to depend totally on God? What would my life look like then?

•  Hosea 11:6c (NASB) “Wait for your God continually.” The question in reference to this verse was asked of us at Precept Bible study: What does it look like to wait for God continually?

In my driven-ness and my obsession for planning, I often find myself running ahead instead of waiting. How would my life be different if I waited for my God continually and only acted when I sensed His leading?

•  The dangers of plenty:

We live in the land of plenty. It wasn’t too long ago, God showed me how wealthy we are compared to the majority of the world. Having never considered that the term “rich” fit our family, it was a startling thought. Startling, but true. The temptation in the land of plenty is to assume we’ve achieved all this on our own and to become proud. When pride sneaks in, we tend to forget God. It’s a subtle progression.

Is the opulence around leading me to become satisfied and proud and causing me to forget God?

All are good questions to ask yourself:

1. What are you doing right now that requires faith?
2. How are you waiting for God?
3. Is your wealth leading you to become satisfied and proud and causing you to forget your God?

When mashed potatoes stick to my socks while clearing the table and when two pairs of rubber boots bring mud into the recently swept foyer and when the little one is having a tantrum in her bed so loud that I wonder if the neighbours will wonder…

I think… where is joy in this?

Where is God in this?

During the hour before the sun touches the eastern horizon and the house is still quiet, God is so real and so present. I can almost reach out and touch Him.

Then the day starts and children whine and siblings argue and the house is in need of a good cleaning… again. And I wonder how it’s even possible to find continual joy here. To experience God in every moment.

I read it in His Word… phrases like:

your joy will overflow (John 15:11)

you will have abundant joy (John 16:11)

filled with My joy (John 17:13)

you will give me wonderful joy in your presence (Acts 2:28)

But how does God make Himself known as I’m wrestling her into a bathing suit for swimming lessons? Is He present when two children are running different directions in the grocery store? Is there joy when I’m folding the laundry that will only need to be folded again in a few days?

Sometimes I need to fight hard for joy. 

Sure – there are days where joy and laughter comes easily. But there are also days where joy seems far from me. And I wonder why. The place is the same; the people are the same; the situation is the same.

The difference must be the attitude of my heart.

I know joy is not dependant on circumstances. Joy transcends circumstances.

My gratitude list sits on my counter and I’m reminded daily to give thanks. Admittedly some days I have to dig deep.

Thankfulness and joy – so eternally entwined.

I offer Him gratitude, He gives me joy.

When gratitude is absent, I have nothing to offer Him, and my heart wanders. When my sacrifice of praise dries up, so does my joy.

I know these truths, but there are days I need to continually remind myself.

The mashed potatoes are easily wiped up and the mud is easily swept away and the little one’s angry crying gradually turns to singing through the monitor. 

Then later as we are driving in the van, the little one says, “Mommy, when I was in my bed I was talking to God.”

“What did you say?” I ask.

“I told Him I was loving Him.”

God is in this place. 

I catch glimpses of Him when I intentionally open my eyes to see.

Are there times when you need to fight hard for joy?