Me and the Smalls had to teach the story this morning.  It was David and Goliath.  I love that story.  If you haven’t read it in awhile, hop over to 1 Samuel 17 and give it a read.  It’ll knock your socks off.  The story of this boy, this young, weak boy who steps up to the line and challenges a giant with boldness and confidence.  Read his words, let them soak into your heart and see if you don’t feel just the teeniest bit empowered to slay your own giants with Father as your weapon.  I needed this reminder today.  Maybe you do too? I wrote about it a few years ago.  I’m reposting it tonight as a battle cry to stand and fight.  To you and to me and to followers of Jesus everywhere.  Will you join Father’s army?  Will you let him knock your socks off with his provision and mercy?  Will you, please?
This is me being real. 

As we stand on the precipice of this new thing, this sending the kids off to a new school thing, we are looking for ways to reassure them and ourselves that this is ok.  We can’t physically go with them tomorrow as they step foot into a strange school filled with new people, and my heart aches for that.  If I could go you know I would.  You know it.  But I can’t, so I’m learning once again and a million times a day to remember that these kids are God’s people, were his before they were ours, and he is going with them.  Dan talked with them tonight about the story of David and Goliath.  How David was probably a young boy and small and how Goliath was so big.  And how God only gave David five stones with which to defeat his giant and David was ok with that because he knew that God was with him and that was the only weapon he needed to arm himself with, really.  This first day at the new school is our Goliath.  And we are arming ourselves only with the knowledge that the God of the universe who calls us sons and daughters is accompanying our kids to school.  And we gave them these:

Their own little stones.  They are already in their pockets in their clothes, folded on the step and ready to go. Already getting warmed up in their pockets.
You just put your hand in your pocket, we told them, and you feel your stone and you remember that your mommy and daddy adore you and are praying for you.  So hard.  And that there in no place in the world you can go that God doesn’t go right with you.  Even to school.  Even on the bus.  You are safe, we told them.  We believe in you and in your ability to do this thing.  This scary thing called first day at a new school.  And when that bus pulls up tomorrow afternoon and you dance off I’ll be there.  Right there.  Clapping my hands like a loon and probably crying because I’ll be so proud and thankful.  So thankful.
If you think about it, can you pray for us?  For Peter especially who hates new situations and being the center of attention?  And I’ll be praying for all of you.  For every kid who is starting school tomorrow and especially the ones stepping foot into a new school.  For every parent who has to let go and trust that it’ll be ok.  And I’ll be praising God for good friends (you know who you are) who invited us over for brunch this morning to meet some new people and spend time praying for each other’s children by name.  It’s a privilege to do so.
So this is me.  Feeling five hundred emotions all at the same time and at least one of them is making me want to throw up, but when I worry I do it in my own strength and I’m not strong.  So I’m going to take a page from my own proverbial book and wrap my hands around The Rock tonight.
“I will lay down and sleep in peace for you, alone, O God, make me dwell in safety.”

And it’s making me wonder: what Goliath are you off to slay this week?

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