5 Ways to Tell if Your Child is Ready to Accept Jesus…By Linda Carlblom
I’m a firm believer that God works in the hearts of children just as much as he works in the hearts of adults. And I believe a child can choose to follow Jesus and mean it for life. I also think children are capable of making this important decision on thier own and should never be pressured, guilted or coerced into it.
That said, parents are their children’s primary teachers and they have a responsibility to share Christ with their kids. Hopefully, this will lead them to accept Jesus as their Savior. But how can you tell if your child is ready to take such a huge spiritual step? How can you be sure he isn’t doing it because his friend is? How do you know he didn’t get pressured into it at church or camp? These are valid questions and concerns. Naturally, you’ll want to make sure your child understands your church’s teachings before she takes that important decision to ask Jesus into her heart. But beyond that, here are some things to help you figure it out.
Your child is probably ready if:
1. He exhibits a love for Jesus and growing closer to Him. This might be demonstrated by his enthusiasm for going to church, having devotions at home (with or without you), and if he has a prayer life.
2. He asks questions about spiritual matters and/or looks at the world from a spiritual perspective. Does he see a sunset and say, “Look what God did?” Does he readily turn to God when he needs help? Does he wonder where God is when he sees sadness in the world? These are examples of seeing the world from a spiritual perspective.
3. He wants to share his faith with his friends. Inviting kids to join him at church or special church activities shows he’s excited about his relationship with Jesus and wants others to experience it too. Or maybe he’s one who prays for his friends. That’s another way to include his friends in his faith.
4. He understands what commitment is. Accepting Christ is a pretty awesome lifelong commitment and your child needs to understand what’s involved. A commitment is something you don’t change your mind about. It is something to be taken seriously. It means, in this case, that you’ll love Jesus and live for Him forever.
5. You reassure him about his fears and concerns. Your child may be ready emotionally and spiritually, but he may have fears about doing it. When I was a child, accepting Jesus also meant being baptized, but I was afraid of being dunked in the water. Today, accepting Jesus starts with a prayer of repentance and commitment. Baptism may not follow for a few years. But a child sometimes has fears that hold him back from praying that life-changing prayer. He may fear ridicule from his family or friends, or he may be afraid of what accepting Jesus will mean in his life. He may be afraid he’ll fail as a Christian. Your reassurance of whatever fears or concerns he may have will smooth the decision-making process for him.
I encourage you to talk to your child at least once a year about this important step. Make it a part of your casual conversation. Let him know you’ll support him whenever he’s ready to give his life to Jesus and that you trust his judgment to do it when God tells him it’s time. Seeing your child grow in his faith is one of the sweetest things you’ll get to experience as a parent. And when he finally takes the step of accepting Jesus, it’s time to celebrate!
Big Little Things
A couple of weeks ago I completed a challenge to toss 2,014 items I no longer find useful, helpful, or lovely. Even though the goal was to finish this task in the year 2014, (I know, I know…) I still claim victory. Actually, that was only Round One. At least that many more items still lurk around my home and garage, ready to make that One Last Trip to either the Salvation Army, the domestic violence shelter, the recycle bin or the trash can.
Most of the tossed items are now gone from my memory as well as my home. I couldn’t tell you what more than a half dozen of them were. Just as well. Even as I examined them, I wondered what had possessed me to buy them in the first place, or keep them this long.
I organized the treasures that I kept and can now tell you where (almost) everything is (if you really want to know, and it won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t, since I know you have my important things to think about…like what to do with your own stuff).
It was a huge, horrible job that took a lot of hard work, a lot of time, and a lot of determination. I am inordinately proud of that accomplishment. And I discovered something in the process (in addition to lots of buried treasure.)
Little things can trip you up. Little things can stall your progress, even derail your whole project. Little things become big things if you don’t deal with them.
For example, after sorting and storing all the Christmas decorations on the top shelf in the garage, I ran across an unopened package of Santa-sporting gift tags. Darn it. I didn’t want to drag out the ladder, climb up, balance myself on the top rung, stuff the package into the red box with the green lid, climb back down, all the while risking breaking something important (mostly, any part of my body.) What to do? Throw them away? That went against my father’s instructions to me on frugality. They were still perfectly good, after all.
“I’ll just stick them here for the moment,” I reasoned, laying them on the edge of a stack of games, organized by box width. Later, I found two CDs I couldn’t remember purchasing much less ever hearing and decided to check with other family members before adding those CDs to the to-go pile. Where to put them until then? How about right here in this crack between the box of slides to go through some day and my high school yearbooks? Perfect!
Then I stumbled across a few other items that seemingly fit into no category whatsoever. I set them aside and, finding a way to have some fun in this whole process, quoted out loud (to myself) a line from my favorite movie, “I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is…another day!”
After a few more such discoveries and decisions, I stepped back to examine my progress. My delight turned to disappointment. I hadn’t properly dealt with those little things and now they had messed up my goal in a big way.
I would like to tell you that since then, I now leave no detail, no matter how small, unattended. That I address every point of an issue, no matter how long it may take me. That I complete every aspect of all tasks, no matter how inconvenient at the moment, because I know they will come back to bite me in the bum if I do not.
I would like to tell you that, but it wouldn’t be true. But I can tell you that I have gotten much better at follow-through and paying attention to little details. That’s a goal for 2015. I’m hopeful I’ll continue to improve. It’s still just August!
What “little things” distract you? What are you doing to overcome them? Good luck! I’m hopeful you will make great progress!
Abortion…I was there in the beginning, Part 2 by Betty L. Arthurs
Abortion…I was there in the beginning. Part 2 by Betty L. Arthurs
Looking back over 40 years later, it seems impossible doesn’t it that I, happily pregnant, was helping to care for, along with other pregnant co-workers, mothers killing their babies?
John finished his studies in May and found a temporary job so I could quit working.
We were waiting for a teaching position to open up in Wilson, NY. Julie and I played for many long hours as my due date in June drew near. What a relief to not work and have time to rest. But one day I stopped feeling life in our baby, something was not right. Frantic, we rushed to my obstetrician who confirmed that our baby had died. In a few days I delivered Christopher Lee, always an active little guy, with the umbilical cord
wrapped around his neck. He was so perfect, so beautiful. There were no ultra-sounds in those days to warn of such a danger. And I was in the hospital where I had worked and where they killed babies. Only God and his love sustained us through those days of grief.
A short poem I love comes from a greeting card:
Trust God when dark days assail thee,
Trust Him when thy faith is small,
Trust Him when to simply trust Him,
Is the hardest thing of all.
John did get the teaching position and we moved back home to Niagara Falls country. In a few years another precious boy was born, Robbie, and we eventually moved to Arizona. Through the years we became active in pro-life causes. I have held the hands and prayed with women in church and at spiritual retreats who were held captive in the bondage of depression and shame over the abortions they had…God’s forgiveness was there and they learned to forgive themselves.
We didn’t know God was orchestrating an amazing event. The event was the birth of a boy, our first grandchild, adopted by our daughter Julie and her husband Mike, named Kyle Christopher. We’ve been forever grateful his birth mother chose life for him. Now Kyle is married and he and Rachel are expecting their first baby, a girl. We treasure the years with our children and eight grandchildren, showing us the circle of life fashioned by God brings healing and hope.
Yes, I was there in the beginning and I pray America will wake up and reject the culture of death abortion brings. Will you pray too?
Abortion…I was there in the beginning, Part 1 by Betty L. Arthurs
Abortion…I was there in the beginning. Part 1 by Betty L. Arthurs
Over the years, many people have distanced themselves from the abortion debate until recently they learned of Planned Parenthood’s selling of body parts from pre-born babies.
Undercover videos revealed the scope of the heartless attitude of executives talking about their gruesome enterprise like they were dissecting fetal pigs in a college biology class.
For years abortion providers have told pregnant women it’s just a blob of tissue, let us help you take care of your problem. A fetal heart saved from the crushing of an abortionist is a tiny bit of flesh?
I was there from the beginning when abortion was made legal in the state of New York…before Roe v Wade.
In the early 1970s my husband and I moved to a college town in the Finger Lakes region of the state of New York so he could attend graduate school. I worked an evening shift, 3PM to 11PM, at a small hospital as an RN. This shift worked well for us since John could watch our toddler daughter, Julie, after his classes were done.
My nursing tasks were routine pre-op and post-op care on a surgical floor. All accident victims came to us from the ER since most would need surgery. Giving out medications, checking surgical dressings, comforting those laid up in traction, checking on cancer patients, making rounds with doctors…as nurses we kept busy, depending on our nurse’s aides and orderlies for help.
Back then I never paid much attention to the news so it was a shock when my co-workers talked about the new doctor, I’ll call him Dr. S., (I will never forget his real name) and how he was using the operating rooms to perform abortions. Up until then I had lead a very sheltered life. Obstetric textbooks taught us about miscarriages or spontaneous abortions where a grieving mother and father lost their baby, but not intentional abortions.
The nursing staff was in an uproar. Operating room nurses ran out, crying and threatening to quit, “some of the babies were born alive.” Other doctors were also horrified. But the hospital by now was making a lot of money off abortions since the women had to pay cash up front…no way would they stop these procedures. New nurses were hired with stronger stomachs to help the doctor of death.
Soon the overflow of women waiting for abortions came to our surgical floor. The doctor had advertised in newspapers and magazines. The women poured in from states where abortion was illegal. A thirteen year-old girl from Ohio told my nurse’s aide, “I have a boyfriend,” when her parents said she had been raped.
In a room with six beds, one woman would be recovering from a mastectomy, another had had gall bladder surgery, but one bed held a woman with a huge stomach undergoing a saline abortion. Hours earlier, Dr. S., huge syringe in hand, plunged the needle into her uterus and gave her baby a few hours to be poisoned and burned alive. Then in the operating room he would remove her “problem.” In the coming years, saline abortions would stop since so many babies survived the procedure, giving way to late term abortions where the abortionists carved up the baby to remove it.
After their procedures, the women would come back to us for a few hours and we would monitor their blood pressures and check for excessive bleeding. They looked half dead, not much of a medical term, but that’s what I observed. Soon they were discharged.
I never saw any poor women. There were college students, women who said, “I already have three children and my husband and I don’t want anymore,” teenagers whose parents didn’t want the shame of an unwanted pregnancy; older women and very young from all walks of life came to our Dr. S. In case you’re wondering, birth control in all forms was cheap and available at this time.
Now, 45 years later I know, this was how mixed-up American culture would help the poor, give sexual freedom, control the population, give the founder of Planned Parenthood, Margaret Sanger, the superior race of intellectual white people she craved. It’s true what the Bible says: “ For wherever there is jealousy (envy) and contention (rivalry and selfish ambition), there will also be confusion (unrest, disharmony, rebellion) and all sorts of evil and vile practices.” James 3:16 (AMP)
I remember those months as being a time when the hospital exchanged its call of giving and sustaining life for a spirit of death. It was a time when I prayed for God’s help just to get me through each shift. My co-workers and I were locked into our jobs since there were no other hospitals in the area. The women were our patients and needed care and I knew God loved them more than they could understand.
And I was six months pregnant. Part 2 tomorrow, August 1, continues my story.
Oh, What Needless Guilt We Bear…by Donna Clark Goodrich
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said to my husband one night before going to sleep.
“Oh, oh, sounds serious,” he answered.
“It is!” I continued, “I know through the years there have been times I’ve said some really mean things to you and got mad at you too often. I know I apologized right away, but I need to know: Have you forgiven me for those times?”
“Honey,” he put his arms around me. “I forgave you as soon as they happened. I knew when you said them that you didn’t mean them. You were just overtired and overworked.”
“You mean, I’ve carried the guilt all these years, and you had already forgiven me?” Relief overwhelmed me.
I was born with a guilt complex. It attached itself to my DNA in the delivery room, and continued to be my lifelong partner for years. I felt guilty…
View original post 359 more words
Defusing the Demolition Derby
In my home state of Arizona, some school districts are already in session, while most others will resume within the next three weeks or so. In other parts of the country, summer vacation lasts another six weeks or more, but I thought this might be an opportune time to remind parents about parking lot etiquette.
One of the many additional obligations teachers have is “duty,” or monitoring different locations around campus before and after school hours. For three years at my last school, two days a week I had K-1 parent drop-off duty. That means I supervised the parking lot where the littlest students emerged from their parents’ cars. I called it “Demolition Derby.” (Are you familiar with that term? It refers to a contest in which drivers willfully crash into other cars, causing as much damage as possible. The last driver whose car is still operational wins.)
There is a protocol to dropping your child off at school:
- Pull up as far as you can.
- Let the child leave the car. (The duty teacher can even open the car door for the child.)
- Promptly drive away.
Simple enough, right? Even self-explanatory. The drop-off guidelines are sent home to parents at the beginning of every year, with periodic reminders in the monthly newsletters. But K-1 parent drop-off duty was my opportunity to observe many parents behaving as though rules don’t apply to them. On a regular basis, this is what I witnessed:
- Parents stopping their cars as close as possible to the playground, preventing cars behind them from entering the lot. This often causes traffic back-ups on a very busy street.
- Parents who park in a no-parking zone to walk their children to the playground, then hang around and watch them play while other parents try to steer around the car that is blocking all progress.
- Parents not bearing right as customary in normal traffic, but pulling around cars, stopping on the left side of the drive, and letting their children out to scamper between cars moving forward at unpredictable moments.
- Parents who arrange the car seats in their vehicle so that the children can only exit from the driver’s side of the car, so that they have to navigate around the car, risking being hit by a vehicle. These are small children, not easily noticed among SUVs. (Deaths have occurred where parents have run over or backed into their own child. Fortunately, not at my school—yet. What a nightmare, and so easily prevented.) Please, make it possible for your child to leave from the passenger side of the car directly onto the sidewalk.
- Parents who, once they’ve stopped the car, now put a sweater or shoes on the child, give extensive directions, or spend several minutes kissing and loving on their kids before letting them out. Please make sure the child is properly dressed before getting into the car. Talk to your child during the drive instead of waiting until you arrive. Express your affection earlier in the day so you can dismiss your kids with a quick peck or a wave when you get to school. The parents who are stranded around the corner waiting to make a left turn onto the school street will appreciate your efficiency.
When I corrected parents about parking lot procedure, some responded with annoyance, as though I were inconveniencing them. Please understand, it’s for the safety of your children that school personnel ask you to follow these rules. It’s not about you. It’s always about the kids.
Raising Spiritually Strong Toddlers…by Linda Carlblom
There are scads of articles on children’s ministry, but most of them deal with preschool or school-aged children. Are toddlers too young to learn about God? No, no, no!
Most toddlers are eager learners. The whole world is their classroom and they’re excited to be in it. Everything is new and fresh. How can you capture this wonder and harness it for God? Can toddlers have a vital faith? I believe they can. Here are five of God’s titles your little one will easily understand.
- God the Creator. At every turn, you have opportunities to remind your toddler who made the world.When they bend to sniff a flower, when they see a bug, or the sky blazes with sunset. When birds chirp or dogs bark or the sun shines in their eyes, you can say, “Who made the _______?” They’ll have fun replying, “God did!” You can even follow up with the question, “Why?” and they can answer, “Because He loves me.”
- God the Healer. Toddlers regularly fall or bump and get boo-boos. That’s the perfect time to teach them about God’s healing power. Sure, Mommy’s kisses are good, too, but only God can really heal. Make sure they know that His power trumps Mommy’s! Take a moment after applying a Band-Aid to say a quick prayer with your child asking God to please heal their hurt. When you see the injury looking better, remember to point it out to your little one by saying something like, “Look! God’s healing your boo-boo!”
- God the Provider. Children often want things they can’t have immediately. That’s especially hard for a toddler since they don’t understand the concept of time yet. When you have to say “not now,” let them ask God for what they want. Tell your child God loves them and will give them only what’s best for them. When the time comes that you can say yes to their request, help them remember to say thank you to God.
- God the Family Man. Children, even very young ones, understand families. Make God and His Son, Jesus part of your family. Set a place at the table for them. When a child is sad, talk to them about how God is like a nice daddy who holds them and lets them cry when they need to. Jesus is like a big brother, always there for them, loving them and protecting them.
- God the Author. Teach your child that the Bible is God’s Word. It is more special than any other book, so we must treat it with extra care. Let children hold your Bible or buy them their own toddler Bible. Praise them for how gentle they are with it. Open it up and let them “love” the pages by rubbing their hands over them. Tell them God’s Word is always right and true. We want to do what it says because that makes God happy…and it’s the best way for us to be happy, too!
It’s never too early to teach your children about God. Start today!
How have you started teaching your little ones about God?
Linda
Friends for Life, Even at a Distance…by Linda Carlblom
My best friend and shirt-tail cousin, Myra, and her college-aged daughter, Jennie, came for a week-long visit from out of state this week and left two days ago. We’ve been besties for almost 40 years, and have known each other since early childhood. There’s a certain comfort that comes from a friendship lasting that long, a joy that reaches deep.
When we were teenagers we’d lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, eating Red Vines, and talking of our dreams. Today we’re living them. Husbands and children, even grandchildren, are all answered prayers wearing flesh. We even began traditions we do to this day, like eating potato chips with cream cheese and onion dip. Important stuff!
This time, our young adult daughters drove themselves around, enjoying their own budding friendship, and it staked Myra’s and my friendship even more firmly. We know first-hand the blessing of sharing laughter, inside jokes, and simply a history of being young and growing older. I can only hope and pray our daughters can experience such luxury.
For over twenty years, we’ve lived in different states. Keeping a long-distance friendship thriving can be challenging, but a few things have helped Myra and I stay connected and pick up right where we left off whenever we get together.
- We use social media. It’s so much easier to stay in touch these days because of Facebook and other social media sites. Often, we’ll see something that reminds us of the other and we’ll post it on their page. It reminds us of our friendship and the history we share.
- We aren’t offended if months go by without a phone call or email. Let’s face it. Life is busy, especially when you’re raising kids or caring for elderly parents. Cut each other some slack. Just because contact isn’t made, doesn’t mean you haven’t been on their mind. Be glad they have a full life that keeps them occupied. You’ll hear from them when they need you most.
- Share life’s big moments. Whether you have great news to share, or your heart is breaking, share it with your friend. And when the shoe’s on the other foot, be a comforting, listening ear. These are the moments that cement your friendship.
- Laugh. Seriously. You can’t overdo this. I’m pretty sure Myra and I spent the first two days of her visit laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. It’s a wonder we’re still alive. Laughter is great medicine for anything that ails you. An added bonus this year was watching our daughters roll their eyes at us.
- Pray. And don’t be afraid to say so. Myra regularly tells me she’s praying for me and often even specific members of my family who may be going through a difficult time. And I do the same for her. Some days it’s a soothing reassurance knowing the small, simple fact that she’s praying. Which, of course, is anything but small.
These steps have served us well for over forty years. They aren’t rocket science. But they make our lives so much richer. Never underestimate the power of a solid, lifelong friendship. Even if it has to be enjoyed at a distance, it’s totally worth every ounce of effort.
How do you keep your friendships alive? Share in the comments below.
Linda
Life is Fragile…Handle with Prayer by Betty Mason Arthurs
Life is Fragile…Handle with Prayer by Betty Mason Arthurs
A ceramic plaque on my refrigerator has this above quote. How can anyone deny that life is fragile?
One day your beloved family member can be diagnosed with cancer and faces surgery and months of follow-up treatment. Your rambunctious boy jumps out of a tree and fractures a leg. You’re grateful he didn’t fall on his head, even if it means your time is consumed with his care. Sometimes if you were to write down all the prayer needs in your family, you could fill a thousand journals. And then there are the needs of the world to fill another thousand books.
I sadly remember the Sandyhook shootings, Boston bombing, Tucson and Denver shootings, and now the Charleston shootings at a church Bible study. Didn’t we all pray for them? If you’re like me, your tears mingled with your prayers. In the flash of gun shots, precious people died.
Can we say, life is horrific, handle with prayer? Life is full of grief, handle with prayer?
Do we remember the scripture John 3:16? “God so loved the world?” He sent Jesus to die on a cross for all.”
It seems like for some, “life is bad, handle with hate.” However, didn’t the family of those killed at the AME church in Charleston teach us a better response? The grandson of 70 year-old Ethel Lance said, “Hate is powerful, but love is more powerful.” Rev. Goff said, “When sister Ethel Lance praised the Lord, you had to strap on your spiritual seatbelt.” In a close knit, church family, members often call one another brother and sister. Someone else said to the killer, “We have too much love in our family to allow hate to come in.”
When did I ever praise the Lord enough to warrant a seatbelt? It’s an astounding image and blessed comfort to her family remembering Ethel Lance as she praised her Lord. It comforts me.
The Bible in the book of John tells a story of the sisters, Mary and Martha, of Lazarus sending for Jesus and what was their message? “Lord, one you love is sick.” Their brother was in a bad way. Jesus, a dear friend, was their only hope for healing their brother and yet Lazarus died before the Healer got to their home. The scripture tells us they went to the tomb and, “Jesus wept.” Gut-wrenching grief gave way to celebration when the Giver of life himself shouted into that tomb, “Lazarus, come forth!” I imagine the dead man, still wrapped in his grave clothes which his friends tore off of him, shouted and danced for joy with his sisters.
When we hear or watch the news on TV each day we have an opportunity to care about others and act in love.
Can we pray into the fragility of life:
“Lord, one you love is sick…bring healing and comfort to those who suffer around the world.”
“Lord, one you love is missing on a hike.…”
“Lord, one you love has been shot….”
“Lord, one you love is with the Marines overseas….”
Yes, life is fragile and there are many times we will not understand the issues of pain, suffering and injustice in this life…only God knows. Psalm 91 says, “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty…You shall not be afraid of the terror by night.…” We are not immune to danger, disease or disasters, but God promises security in the midst of them. In my family, we can say “amen” to that promise. Many times our family has felt God’s peace when loved ones have died, when physical health disappears in an attack by an insidious disease.
Your silent prayers uttered on tearstained pillows
were heard before they were said.
Your deepest questions were answered
before they were asked.
Max Lucado
Life is fragile…handle with prayer.
Allison Boley
Carol Boley
dgood648
Joy
Andrea R Huelsenbeck
Betty Mason Arthurs
Linda Carlblom
Peggy Levesque
tuesdayschildren100
Judy Robertson
