crocodile tears and gecko tails

A few days ago it started, you see. With the crocodile tears. Oh, they were big! I was just going about my week-before-school-starts duties; head-down in the bathtub, making those shirts WHITE. Before long I noticed the silence, so I decided to take a break and check on Noah and Iris. As I passed the doorway to Noah's room, I discovered that indeed something had gone awry.

Suddenly, the silence was broken with a shocking wail, followed by The Body Slam. Six-year old boys are sweet that way. Sometimes they still cry and run to mommy the way they did at age 3, but now, unbeknownst to them, they have doubled in size. An intense sobbing ensued. So intense that I knew this was no ordinary problem. I just let him continue for a couple minutes while I carried him over to his bed and sat down, his bony, lengthening limbs wrapped tightly around my torso. Between the sobs I could make out the words "I don't want you to be mad!" Astonished by the intensity of his emotion, and even more dismayed at the words he was saying, I began to wonder, “What in the world!?”

"I don't want you to be mad about my gecko," Noah said.

"It happened last night..."

And so the story began to unfold. The afternoon before, Noah had found and caught a little gecko. In the span of an hour this little creature had a totally pimped-out pad, complete with a shaded sand pit. Not long after, in the busyness of bedtime hour, I noticed the silence and assumed Noah and Gecko were still happily bonding. Well, I was wrong.

The next day, Noah explained to me that just before bedtime he had meant to move Gecko for just a moment while he made him a "pillow." And he was gone! Across the floor! Noah lunged, and grabbed, and off came the tail! Oh, the horror! It was still wiggling! He then caught the injured Gecko, grabbed the tail, and reacted quickly. Believing that he had permanently maimed his new special friend, he set the little thing free, quickly buried the tail in the front garden, and somehow concluded that his Gecko-loving mom would not be happy.

Oh, it was not good. I felt bad enough that he thought I would be angry, but I felt awful when I realized that I must have missed that part of the manual. The part about including somewhere in the first 6 years of a boy’s life the cool fact that THE TAILS GROW BACK.

"OH! NOAH! The tails GROW BACK!!" I said. I had to keep saying it and explaining it because on his face was the look of utter disbelief. Finally, he spoke. "MOM! You should have told me that yesterday!" Really.

And I guess it would have saved us a little heartache if I had, but then I would have missed out on what followed. In the next few moments, I had an opportunity to reassure Noah of some even cooler facts. I gripped his shoulders and looked into his teary eyes. And from the depths of my soul I felt the words form and come out earnestly:

"NOAH! I AM THE ONE you come to when something has gone wrong! I AM THE ONE YOU TELL when you think you have done something horrible! I AM THE ONE who loves you no matter what! DON'T YOU DARE EVER CARRY A BURDEN LIKE THAT ON YOUR OWN EVER AGAIN! I AM THE ONE WHO IS HERE FOR THAT! I AM HERE."

As I rocked that little body, and took comfort in feeling his peace restored, my own words echoed loud in my head. A lump formed in my throat as I heard my own voice fade and the voice of Father pick it up...

"I AM THE ONE you come to when something has gone wrong! I AM THE ONE YOU TELL when you think you have done something horrible! I AM THE ONE who loves you no matter what! DON'T DARE EVER CARRY A BURDEN ON YOUR OWN! I AM HERE!"

Later that night, I was completely overcome. I couldn't help but see the truth. I had been just like Noah. Something had gone horribly wrong. I had made a mess, I believed, and felt that I was responsible to clean it up, all alone. I had to face the horror, and bear it on my own. I deserved to suffer, after all.

The voice of those lies had been growing stronger and more believable. How interesting that God used the echo of my very own loud and earnest plea to break through. And the passion that drove me to deliver that message of unconditional love to my son DOES NOT EVEN COMPARE to the passion He feels about me.

And seriously, if He cares so much about gecko tails, how much more does He care about my crocodile tears!

The Love of God
Frederick M. Lehman

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.

When years of time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men, who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

a NEW song

God showed up early this morning. 8am. His presence hit me hard. Guess I was looking the other way. Guess I was only expecting Him later, when our voices were better warmed-up.

Waves have been coming my way. Carrying a new sense of the old truth of Him showing up in my weakness. He's been showing up in a new way.

He's been watching me with my eyes to the ground. It's like He had enough. Dropped a heavy book, LOUD! Or came up quietly from behind and buckled my knee with His foot - you know, like the boys in Jr. High. Makes me want to sing. Can't wait to sing this new song.

my heart, her words

“Give me the making of the songs of a nation and I care not who writes it’s laws"
-Andrew Fletcher (eighteenth-century Scottish political thinker)

"The arts are the platform upon which the cultures and movements of the world come to debate the issues of the day. Historically, artists have been the voice of their culture or movement. Because of this, the work of their hands and the song on their lips have often been the vehicle of change. The arts give people expression to their joy, grief, desire and vision. This expression, as seen in the sixties, can be empowering, unifying and sometimes devastating. Unfortunately, the Christian voice too often has been absent from this platform. If the church is to truly have a lasting effect on the cultures of the world, then her voice must be present. If the world is to hear a sincere cry of freedom, then Spirit led creatives must take their place, not just in the fellowship hall on Sunday morning, but on every level of the art world and in every media.

Worship Arts Revival is dedicated to cultivating the arts and the creative gifts in the body of Christ. The ministry aims to see a new breed of spiritual artist emerge: A class of artist with spiritual integrity, and a genuine passion for the gospel, but also with discipline, focus and zeal for their craft.

It is the heart of Worship Arts Revival to see the expressed love of God move like blood through the veins of society awakening desires that have lied dormant in so many hearts for so many years.

Hope often rides on the back of a song, in the colors of a painting, in the lyrics of a poem, or in the turns of a dance. Sometimes the tipping point of change is as slight as a hammer against the strings on a piano. It’s our dream that the hands and hearts behind these expressions are fueled by the affections of Jesus."

~ Sarah McMillan (co-founder of Worship Arts Revival)