line.

Three days into my summer reading list and I’m tossing one out.  Sorry, Anne Enright if you’re reading this, but your book is filled with crap and I’m ditching it.  I’m sure you’re very talented, but the weird and frequent sexual references and disjointed sentence fragments giving laborious birth to equally disjointed  paragraphs left me feeling neurotic and sucking my thumb after only one chapter.  So I’m editing you off my list.  Please write if you have something for a less psychotic audience and I’ll see if I can recommend it to my readers in good conscience.  Lucky for you, my public consists of three people all in my immediate family and under strict obligation to “check the blog”, so I’m trusting your book and my recommendation of it didn’t scar too many people.  Better luck next time, Anne.
And while we’re talking about inappropriate content, let me just say this: every day, every minute, we draw a line in the sand and declare that because we are who we are, we won’t cross it.  For us, Scoobydoo and swears and Diary of a Wimpy Kid and anything having to do with witches (Harry Potter exempting) are on the other side of the line.  “Crap” is supposed to be there too, but it often slips back across unnoticed.  If I had my druthers, Caillou would be there cause he drives me nuts and so would perler beads and toilet brushes, but they probably aren’t.  As followers of Jesus, there are additional things on the other side of the line.  Things like taking God’s name in vain and ignoring the homeless are there.  And other things like just checking in on Sundays and calling it good enough or refusing to invest ourselves in others.
We’ve tried to ally ourselves with friends and a church and school who will stand on our side of the line because that’s what we think we’re called to do: stand.  Link arms and stand.  Because there is so much wavering and blurring of the line in this culture and if we can do one service for our kids it’s to make that line we are unwilling to cross so distinct that they’ll know where it is.  And they’ll toe it.  Might even cross it once in a while; we all do.  But when they’re ready to come back across (and I pray they do.  pray for it so hard) I’ll be there clapping my hands and calling them home to supper.  And I’ll do that for any of you or your children who fall across the line because that’s what brothers and sisters do.  Link arms, stand at the line and teach our children about it, extend grace when they step across and enfold when they come running back.   Because I’ve been there on the other side of the line.  Spent lots of time there before I found Jesus and it’s a scary and dark place and not somewhere I want anyone to be.  And it’s a place that beckons me still at times, so I know it’s lure but I’m happy here.  So happy here that I count it my privilege to stand and clap my hands so that anyone lost has somewhere to go.  Someone to come back to.  We are called to be a city on a hill with a light that shines like a beacon so that lost ships can find their way home.  And find there also grace and forgiveness and safety and a warm blanket.  It’s what God extends a million times a day when I stick my big toe across the line in thought or deed and when I fall flat on my face on the other side every once in a while and far more often than I ought.  After all, the Bible says tells us that “to whom much grace is extended, much will be expected”, which only means that I have bucketfuls and bucketfuls yet to hand out.
All this to say that I’m sorry to have recommended a book, despite my disclaimer, that I’m now tossing to the other side of the line (there are lots of Danielle Steels and Judith McNaughts there to keep it company), but the line is the line and I’m trying to stay on my side.
Sit.  Megan.  Sit.  Stay.  Good Girl.

2 Replies to “line.”

  1. Meg,” the line in the sand” is such a great visual for me, living out on Lake Michigan all summer. I walk the sandy beach every day, and pray. I like to think of God's grace and mercy washing over me as the waves erase my footprints.

    I think I may draw a line in the sand down there today, sit and think about what tempts me to cross, so I will better resist the next time.

    Here's to lines, and staying on the right side.

    love you

    Like

  2. Megan, my amazing daughter. Every time I read one of your blogs, I'm in awe of your raw courage, child-like faith and tender heart. I'm so proud of you and frankly jealous at times of your remarkable writing skills. You have a gift- actually lots of them. You're making God look good girl. Dad

    Like

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