As the Deer Panteth...

As the deer panteth for the water so my soul longeth after Thee.

The words to an old praise song taken from Psalm 42. I love the way the King James-ish words sound--there’s something comforting about them. And of course, the desperate crying out to Jesus—that hits me.

Especially as a mom, there are times I so long for Jesus it brings tears to my eyes. I often fail to be the mother I want to be, yet I try so hard to do everything I know I should. And even when I think I’m making the right parenting decision, often doubt creeps in. Especially when it comes to discipline.

We have attitude issues in this family, and not just the kids. Both my husband and I struggle at times, which makes it even more difficult to discipline the one who glares at us with eyes full of rebellion. How do we tell him to get his attitude on track when ours can be less than Christlike?

A helping of long-ago advice comes to mind:

It’s my job as a parent to teach my children the truth. The truth doesn’t change, even if I fail to live up to it.

Yes, I know …

But still, disciplining a child’s heart is difficult, full of doubts and regrets, hopes and fears, all mixed up into a soup of confusion.

What can I do but pray? Or more honestly, what can I do but run to my Savior, begging for help and comfort, clinging to Him like a child myself?

I long for You, dear Jesus, like a deer that panteth for the water.

As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So my soul pants for You, O God.
2My soul thirsts for God, for the living God;
When shall I come and appear before God? Ps. 42:1-2 NASB

What Kind of Bride Am I?

Recently I was asked to do a devotional for a bridal shower. As I thought about what to talk about, I, of course, ran to our great mothers—those great brides in the Bible. As I looked at these wives and their attributes, I began to wonder, What kind of bride am I?

Am I Eve? Do I, like her craving the forbidden fruit, manipulate my husband to get what I want? In the same manner as she listened to the voice of the serpent, do I heed the voice of my own desires or other influences rather than the authority God has given me?

Am I Sarah? Rather than building up my husband’s faith, do I, like Sarah in her fit of laughter, ridicule God’s faithful promises by my own lack of trust? And also, do I meddle into things which are between him and God—as Sarah meddled with the need for offspring?

Am I Gomer from the book of Hosea? A prostitute who ran from the man who God had called to serve her. Am I unfaithful in my thoughts or words? Do I run from my husband when I should be running to him?

If I’m honest, I must admit, yes, I am like these women a lot of times. But I long to do better, to reflect the others we learn about.

Am I Rebecca, Rachel? Beloved of their husbands and blessed of God.

Am I Ruth? Humble. The faithful wife who longs to support and serve the man who loves her.

Am I the Shunamite Woman (Solomon’s beloved)? Her passion for her husband engulfs all her life, and she longs to serve only him. Am I like that?

I hope to more closely resemble the faithful ones. But as I study these ladies, something aside from their character strikes me:

Each of these faithful women has been especially chosen by her husband.

Think about Rebecca, Rachel, and also Moses’ wife. All these women were simple daughters, interested in livestock. There was nothing exceedingly amazing about them. They were not born of kings, they weren’t exceedingly wealthy. Just good, upright women. But the main thing these women have in common is that they watered their herds at a well.

And what happened at the well? A husband, or representative of a husband, sought out each one of these women, Rebecca, Rachel, and Zipporah, courted them, and claimed them for his own. These women were called to be part of God’s family by the patriarchs themselves. Not because of who they were, but because of the simple fact that they were chosen.

What about Ruth? Was she much of anything in the world’s eyes before she married Boaz? We know Ruth was a woman of good character, but in earthly terms, Ruth was less than a nobody. A widow. A foreigner—not an Israelite. There was nothing earthly to recommend her to the noble farmer, Boaz. Yet, in God’s providence, Boaz chose her for a wife. Redeeming her life from poverty and bitterness.

What about the Shulamite woman? The great, beautiful King Solomon (did you catch that? A king!) took this woman—a young country girl—and in his great, overwhelming kindness, he didn’t just wed her, but passionately without reserve, in utter fleshly desire and spiritual delight, he adored her.

Song of Solomon 4

You have captivated my heart, my sister, my bride;
you have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.
10 How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride!
How much better is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your oils than any spice! ESV

Again, we see the kindness of a husband, who welcomes a bride into his arms, despite the woman’s lowliness.

Back to the question. Which sort of bride am I? I still wasn’t sure. I looked in one more place, near another well, an old, old well, yet during a different time.

John 4
5 Now Jesus came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the field that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob's WELL was there;

What was there? A well? Have we heard this before? Do you think John knew that in the first five books of the Bible the place to get wives was at a well? Let’s keep reading:

so Jesus, wearied as he was from his journey, was sitting beside the well. It was about the sixth hour. 7 A woman from Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” … 9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.)

Immediately we see that just like Boaz, King Solomon, and Hosea, Jesus has no earthly reason to pursue this woman. Why?

Let’s talk about the Samaritan woman for a second. What do we know about her?
1. She’s a woman. Not good during that time. A rabbi wasn’t allowed to talk to women.
2. She’s a Samaritan—What does that mean? Less than a half-breed. Rejected, outcast.

We’ll get to more later. But for know we start to glimpse that Jesus is like those former husbands we’ve seen. He goes to a well and talks to a woman, not because she’s extra worthy, but because of something about the man’s character. There’s something the man has been called to do. Something in God’s bigger purpose.
Verse 10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

Not only did Jesus lower himself to talk to her, he gives her something better than she has. Let’s skip to verse sixteen.

16 Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” 17 The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.”

So we come to the other issue with this woman that would make a normal person stay away from her? What is it? What makes her more than a lowly woman, a rejected Samaritan halfbreed? An outcast of outcasts?

She thirsts.

Not for water. She thirsts for husbands. She’s had six. Six. And none of them could quench her thirst. They only left her dry, weary, tired. And thirsting even more.
What does this woman need? She needs a seventh husband. Seven, the number of perfection. She needs the perfect husband, who is Christ. And he doesn’t turn her away. She deserves to thirst forever because of her sin—her many, many sins. She does NOT deserve to have her soul quenched. She does not deserve to be Christ’s bride. Not the beautiful Christ. The lovely husband. She deserves to die in her arid loneliness.

We are that bride.

We are that faithless one, who thirsts for what does not fulfill. Our sins make us outcasts of outcasts, a Samaritan, Eve, faithless Sarah, Lot’s wife, Gomer—despised, rejected. We do not deserve to have a beautiful, strong, honorable husband seek us out and call us his bride.

But then … what happened to the Samaritan woman? Do you remember? Jesus quenches her thirst for husbands with Himself—the most beautiful husband there is. Better than the Old Testament grooms.

Yet, the story is not over, for, “This bride will not come cheap.”

Christ calls her to him, but he must pay a price for her. “Quenching his beloved's thirst will require him to endure the horror of the cross in her stead. For it is there, nailed hand and foot, that Jesus, the source of living water, would cry out, "I thirst." Christ goes to the cross to thirst in his bride's place, taking on her sorrow, grief and sin.”

Dear friends, our groom gives himself to us. He pulls us from our dirty, desperate estate and just as a husband will take his bride’s hand to claim her as his own, Christ takes ours. As a bride is clean, fragranced, adorned in a beautiful dress and jewelry, hair perfectly coifed, so our we as our great husband raises us from the filth of our sin and brings us to him.

And I wonder, what kind of bride was the Samaritan Woman? First, she embodied all those unfaithful brides, but then, after an encounter with Jesus, she blossoms into the Shulamite woman—the wife of King Solomon, passionately in love with Jesus.

The water he gives her overflows out of her abundant love for him. And she can’t help but tell others about him. She preaches the gospel to her loved ones, and you can only imagine the change her life took on. Do you think she continued to live in sin after falling head over heals in love with her new seventh husband? The perfect one?

Of course not. That living water never runs dry. His love for her never runs dry. And then it overflows from her heart—from our hearts. Love for all around us flows uncontrollably and the recipients include … our husbands.

The love for our heavenly husband is fleshed out daily in love to our earthly husbands. For as we adore Christ, we will be patient, kind. We won’t boast or envy. We won’t insist on our own way, or be irritable or resentful. We’ll rejoice in the truth, bear all things, believe all things, endure all things. In Christ, we become the wife he’s called us to be. Not out of resentful duty, but out of overflowing love for our heavenly husband whom we cherish.

So my advice, to the soon to be bride. Fall in love with your savior, and your love for Him will overflow to your groom as well.


*Special thanks to Scott Hunter and Brett McNeill for their help!

Laundry Lessons--When My House Looked Like My Righteousness

"I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels." Is. 61:10 ESV

Remember the verse from Isaiah. “Our righteousness is as filthy rags.” Yesterday my house reminded me of my righteousness—full of filthy clothes!

I’ve spent the last year writing two books, Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana and Love Finds You in Victory Heights Washington. The deadline for Victory Heights was Monday and, sisters, for the last week I worked 10-12 hour days.

Needless to say keeping up on housework, and especially laundry, went out the window—or rather into huge piles all throughout the kids’ rooms, my room, and the hallway.

Our physical well-being was at risk (in case an unaware wee one tripped and crashed her head into a lego creation or other strewn mess.) And our spiritual health also hung in the balance (not the prettiest words pour out when a struggling-to-maintain-her-happy-demeanor mama stumbles on a pile of dirty jeans.)

So yesterday, the first day after the deadline, I jumped in with both feet—and elbows, hands, and a bottle of bleach—to clean! For some reason, I thought my kids would be as fed up with the mess as I was. It was TEAM FLEISS time, and we would conquer the house together.

So, while I chucked one load after another into the washer, scrubbing showers and dishes in the down time, I cheerfully gave the kids tasks. “Christian, yank all that stuff from under the couch.” “Abigail, take this sponge and scrub the stains on the wall.” And the ultimate goal— “Gabrielle, those piles of laundry in the hall need to come down!”

Then as sweet Gabrielle lugged her third basket of laundry down the stairs, she began to make a strange sound. Could that be whining?

I was so surprised. My daughter was whining about cleaning? Doesn’t she know this house is a disaster? I’m gonna be honest. A rumbling frustration grew in my chest. I wanted her to willingly help with a smile—like Snow White in the dwarves’ cabin. “Whistle While You Work.”

Even though my crazy fantasy lacked any understanding about kids’ attitudes toward cleaning, I was disappointed, and tempted to snap at her. “Don’t you want to be on Team Fleiss? Don’t you want to stop living in filth?”

But by God’s grace, instead of snapping, I took a moment to pray and think. Maybe my ideal was extreme, but my desire to instill the value of hard work and a clean home was a good one. How could I take this moment to teach her?

Here’s what I told her.

1. “Sweet Gabrielle, after you brought all those loads down, when you looked at the empty hallway, how did that feel?” She shrugged and said, “Good.” Phew, she said the right thing. “One reason we clean is because it feels good to work hard to make it look nice.’ She liked that. So I moved on.

2. “Another reason we keep our house tidy is to bless others. When you brought down the laundry it meant the family will have clean underwear (which is gleeful!) AND nobody will crash to his death from tripping on the piles. All because you did the not-so-fun work. Thank you, Gabrielle.” A big smile spread across her face.

3. Finally, the most important reason. “We also clean with a cheerful heart because it pleases God. Remember that verse, ‘Rejoice always.’? An orderly house pleases Jesus. It means we care about the home he gave us.” My thoughtful girl’s eyes squinted. “Hmm. Okay, Mama.”

So by the end of the day my house no longer looked like my righteousness—not so full of filthy clothes. But the question still remains. How can my righteousness be cleaned up?

Well, my logic to Gabrielle only worked because God is in her heart, making the truth come to life. And the same is true of me. My temptation to snap shows how scroungy my heart is when ruled by my own selfish desires. I need someone to change my heart from mucky to clean.

There’s hope.

Christ takes our filthy clothing and exchanges them for garments of righteousness. Unlike my home, I can’t scrub hard enough to clean my own hearts. But when I trust in him alone, he does it for me. And dressed as his bride, I go out with joy, serving him in all I do—whether scrubbing showers, teaching whining children, or folding piles of laundry. He is with me.

"You Have a Wonderful Husband"

Transition--that's what our church is all about right now. After renting a Seventh Day Adventist building for ten years, our congregation suddenly finds itself needing to relocate. That, along with our dear associate pastor recently leaving to take a call to a new church, (the nerve!) has left us a little unsettled.

Today we toured two possible church purchases. Since my husband, Michael, is the deacon, (that's right, by God's providence, we only have one now, and Michael is it) he guided the tours today.

"As you can see, the roof looks good. Just replaced." "The classrooms comply completely with the state." "Here's how we can afford this..."

I watched him, this man I've known since he was a gangly twenty-something, going to Orange Coast (Junior) College, driving a Gran Torino, sporting a mullet.

And I was impressed. He'd done his research. He knew his stuff. He led well.

The tour ended, and we gathered for an informal "family meeting." Michael directed it with cordial professionalism. He talked about leaving a legacy for our children, using the many classrooms to provide for homeschool groups, or seminaries, or maybe even starting a Christian school. He asked whether the buildings would fit our spiritual identity.

Who knew my Michael was so wise?

But it was his heart that got me. The church we liked best had been there for fifty years. The members had stained the wood in the ceiling themselves. They served the community and the Lord with humility and love. Now struggles with money, regulations, and unforeseen yuck has caused them to sell.

Something about their plight touched my husband, and he suggested sharing the huge church with this flegling congregation if we should be able to attain it. Why not let them continue to serve the Lord in the building they so love? He suggested letting the pastor keep his office space as well.

In this world of selfish ambition, it touched me that he'd think of others--not how to get the killer deal or the "most for our money"--but to serve.

After the meeting a friend came up to me. "You are blessed to have such a wonderful, thoughtful husband. It's not often that someone has a vision." Her eyebrows scrunched with sincerity, and I thought she might cry.

My heart shot to my throat at her sweet and heartfelt compliment, and, filled with emotion, I said, "Ah, he's all right." We laughed, but then she gave me a hug.

Michael showed us Christ today. And as I walk this journey with my once goofy junior collegiate, I'll continue to be grateful for the Lord's work in his heart, knowing that as Michael becomes more like Christ, I and our church body reaps the benefits.

Me Overwhelmed? Weird--or Not

"The thing is," I told my friend Sarah, "I feel overwhelmed all the time." Sarah is one of those un-assuming, yet remarkable, women whose easy-going attitude and great kids (five of them) inspire me.

What nugget did wise Sarah give me in response? Her brow scrunched in compassion, and she said, "Well, you have four little kids, you homeschool, you edit (something I do to help financially), you have a house to take care of...You're going to feel overwhelmed all the time."

Huh. It took me a minute to let that sink in. I'm going to feel overwhelmed all the time. As she waited patiently, still smiling empathetically, the meaning of her words swirled through my thoughts.

Sarah was telling me that my state of being overwhelmed was not abnormal. In fact, considering all I do, it's perfectly reasonable to feel like I'm drowning.
I looked up from my pondering and said, "Thanks. That's a real comfort."

It was. Her kind and wholly rational words reminded me that God knows how I feel like flood waters are whooshing over my head--all the time. He knows how my stomach turns at the thought of keeping up with the laundry, or how a messy diaper at the wrong moment (like when we're already rushing to be on time)can send me into frantic, crazy-lady mode.

He also knows how I feel like a failure when one of my kids shows his sinfulness by lashing out at me with disrespectful words. Or another one refuses to forgive, holding a grudge for hours. Or when I, rather than exemplifying loving, Christ-centered behavior, instead lash out right back at them.

He knows that these and the many other challenges of parenting overwhelm--all the time. And rather than stressing and struggling like a panicked swimmer, I can trust that this is the heat I'm supposed to be in--not an easy one, but worthwhile. I can rest in Him, trusting His ability to save me--be my strength.

"Trust the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight." Prov. 3:5-6