Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Archives for August 2013

An inspiring look at a lesser-known prophet: Review of Greater by Steven Furtick

greaterLate last year, Waterbrook Multnomah offered some New Year’s guest blog style devotionals based on books by their authors. One of those was from Greater by Steven Furtick. I liked what he had to say, and my husband has been listening to his sermons, off and on, for a few months. So, when given the chance to read the whole book, I took it. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of Greater from Waterbrook Multnomah’s Blogging for Books program in exchange for my review.)

As I began the book, I was skeptical. Furtick’s idea is that God has a vision for our lives and most of us aren’t fulfilling it, for whatever reason. Busy life. Apathy. Doubt. And the path to discovering this vision, and living it out, sounded almost too easy.

But I’m glad I stuck with it because the entirety of the book is not an easy four-step plan to spiritual fulfillment. It’s an encouraging look at the life of Elisha, the prophet, through ups and downs, and how we all have the potential to do something greater for God (not necessarily “great” as we might define it.) And sometimes greater is staying put. Furtick doesn’t offer a one-size-fits-all solution. He lays out principles and questions to ask ourselves about the life we’re living.

After reading it, I’m eager to re-read the stories of Elisha in the Bible and further contemplate the questions Furtick raises in the book.

The book includes questions for group discussion, and Waterbrook Multnomah offers a DVD and participant’s guide for group study as well.

Worth it. Especially in an age when people wonder if this is all there is to life, to Christianity, to the church. Reading Greater can be the spark that ignites more purposeful living.

Here’s a sneak peek from Furtick.

So this is how it starts

We’ve known for five years this day was coming. Why, then, does it seem so soon?

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This morning our daughter boarded a bus for her first day of kindergarten, and while my mother reminded me that I was not the first mother to ever send her child to kindergarten, it’s been a day I half dreaded, half anticipated.

After all, for the last five years, we’ve spent the days together her and I (and later her brother). I’ve learned how to take care of her every need. I’ve answered every question (sometimes with a “just because”). I’ve been around to hear the crazy, funny, profound things that come out of her 5-year-old mouth.

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So, today, it’s hard. Because she gets to spend her days with someone else. And I get to start letting go.

Because being independent is something else she needs to learn. And she can’t do that if I’m hovering all the time. (Also, I’m pretty sure I’d go bonkers if I tried to teach her to read or do math.)

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But I feel it already, the absence of her sweet spirit. She brings so much life to our days, and I’m glad we get to share that with other people, but still …

I was reminded this morning of the name we gave her: Isabelle. Consecrated, or set apart, to God. And when you set something apart for God, you lose some control (okay, a lot of it) over what that person or thing is set apart for. For us, this setting apart means letting her go to public school, a decision we’ve wrestled with but have ultimately been at peace with.

She was God’s before she was ours and I believe that means He has her best in mind. He’ll go with her where we can’t. And she’ll be better for it. So will we.

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Yesterday, I encountered parents who were sending their oldest off to middle school, and another couple who took their youngest off to college. We were all at different stages and yet our feelings were the same. Fear. Anxiety. Sadness. Loss.

What begins with the first day of kindergarten, it seems, never ends. I still remember the tears my mother shed when we left Illinois for Pennsylvania, even though I was a married woman with a child. I’ve heard it begins the moment our babies are born. We’re always letting them go, little by little.

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She will be fine in kindergarten. She will love it, I have no doubts. And she’s in good hands. Last night I was plagued with doubts: Who will meet her at the school to make sure she gets to  her classroom? As if these teachers and school staff aren’t professionals who do this every day of the school year. (I have a few of those in my family, but this time, it’s my girl we’re talking about!)

I’ve never looked more forward to the end of a day. I can’t wait to hear the stories she’ll tell.

As we waited for the bus this morning, a woman leaving the gym behind our house stopped to ask if this was the first day of kindergarten. She told us she’d sent three to school and cried every time. She encouraged Izzy with her excitement and she identified with my sorrow. This has been one of the blessings of this transition: Moms who’ve been there, who say it’s okay to cry, who get to the point where they’re sending their kids off with a wave and a smile and getting on with the day.

So, thank you for your encouragement. This is a big day for our family. One of many we’ve had this summer. As we adjust to new schedules, new responsibilities and a new rhythm to our days, we ask for prayer.

And because I can’t do it any other way: I’ll keep you updated on the journey. (Whether you want it or not!)