Minimizing Murmuring

For several days now, my 7 grandchildren have been at my house making all kinds of racket and having all kinds of fun. Even though they’re only aged 4, 3, 2, 2, 2, 9 months, and 7 weeks, these young cousins (who live far from each other most of the time) are establishing sweet relationships, and it’s a joy to watch.

Today I saw 2 two-year Micah and Thomas wobble down the stairs hand-in-hand, chattering (simultaneously) about the toys they were going to find in the basement. Then 4 year old Skylar and 2 year old Evelyn joined forces to “help” Birgitta change Emerald’s diaper, adding kisses, head-strokes, and 12 extra wipes to the routine. This afternoon Nick and Skylar successfully completed an art project without bickering, and all of them regularly stop to pat crawling Autumn on her head.

Overall, the compatibility is impressive, at least most of the time. But then there are those moments of frustration, fatigue, and unadulterated, me-first selfishness when eruptions come lightning fast and pleasant children melt-down in seconds.

But there’s something much worse than screaming fits. Somewhere between harmony and discord lies the miserable zone of murmuring.

The word “murmur” is an example of onomatopoeia, a word that sounds exactly like its definition. To murmur is to whine or complain about something in an irksome tone, not especially loud or soft but droning on and on, with no end. And during these happy days at my house, we’ve also had big doses of murmuring.

But murmuring is nothing new. The children of Israel did it while following Moses through the wilderness, murmuring about being hungry, thirsty, about their leaders, about leaving Egypt, about the challenges of war, and about most of what God told them to do.

They weren’t the only ones, though. Years later the Scribes and Pharisees of Israel murmured against Jesus and also against his disciples. But New Testament believers murmured, too. None of us can justify pointing a finger.

Except God, that is.

God never murmurs and is disappointed when any of us do it, whether we’re 2 years old, 22, or 102, and he links his displeasure with punishment. As a matter of fact, the children of Israel weren’t allowed to enter The Promised Land for only one reason: their murmuring.

This afternoon Linnea tried to cope with a murmuring toddler as we talked about how difficult it was to listen to steady whining. Then she said, “But I guess since I’m complaining right now, I’m doing it, too.” We all whine sometimes, but God has the same opinion about it today as he did thousands of years ago.

So what can be done? How can we be good examples of “murmurlessness” in front of our children and grandchildren when complaining comes so naturally? Tomorrow Nate is going to give us the answer.

“Do all things without murmurings and disputings, that you may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke.” (Philippians 2:14-15)

 

Partial Answers

Tonight after dinner Hans shared an interesting conversation he’d had earlier in the day with his eldest son, Nicholas. While walking home from the local playground, Nicholas had said, “When we die and I grow up again, will we be the same?”

In the mind of a 3 year old, this was a simple question. In Hans’ 30 year old mind, an accurate answer would have been lengthy and laced with scriptural detail far too advanced for such a young chap.

So he did what wise parents do. He simplified his answer and said, “Yes. You’ll still be Nicholas, and I’ll still be Papa.”

Is this how God responds to our questions to him? Logic tells us that when we ask, he has to simplify. After all, he’s above and beyond us in all respects. He knows more, can see farther, understands better, and is the unstoppable force behind all events. He’s a complicated Being!

But there’s more to it than just simplification. Certain of our questions have answers too heavy for us to handle, much like Nicholas wasn’t ready for the full story of heavenly existence. No doubt the “why” questions we voice to God are among those with answers we’re unable to take in. If God gave us the long version, either we wouldn’t believe it or the truth would overwhelm us.

Little Nicholas didn’t need any more detail than Hans gave him. What he did need was a dose of security from his father, because behind his question was a hint of nervousness about not being able to tell who-was-who when he got to heaven. And if he got there and couldn’t find his daddy, that would be a loss too great to bear.

As we adults question God and get frustrated with his simplified or limited answers, we should remember that all we really need from him is a dose of security. We think we want the details behind our “why’s” or other questions, but deep down it’s an affirmation of God’s sovereignty that we’re really craving.

Although he may keep the long answers to himself, he never skimps on letting us know there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever the situation, he reminds us, “I’ve got it well in hand.” It was good enough for Nicholas to know he has nothing to fear about heaven, and it should be good enough for us to believe the same thing about all that concerns us, whether in the afterlife or in the present day.

We’re often discontent with God’s partial answers but should take note of how quickly satisfied Nicholas became with his father’s short answer. That trusting response might be the very reason God says little children sometimes “get it” better than learned adults. We could all take a lesson.

Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children.” (Matthew 11:25)

Slammed Doors

Today’s date will always be important to me. It would have been Nate’s and my wedding anniversary, #43. Though we can’t celebrate the same way we did on this date for 4 decades, my heart is still celebrating that God brought Nate and I together in the first place.

By 9:00 am my thoughtful children began checking in with me, wondering if I was in need of comfort. Although I’ve been wearing Nate’s wedding ring on a necklace today, I can honestly say I haven’t been sad. “Grateful” is more accurate, because yesterday God showed me something special about my marriage to Nate.

Last night my women’s Bible study group met for the last session in a 10 week study called “Believing God.” Throughout the weeks we’ve been learning there’s a vast difference between believing in God and believing God. We’ve memorized 5 practical statements of faith:

  1. God is who he says he is.
  2. God can do what he says he can do.
  3. I am who God says I am.
  4. I can do all things through Christ.
  5. God’s Word is alive and active in me.

Each week we’ve stood and recited these 5 important facts at the beginning of our discussion group, and after 10 weeks, we can easily say them from memory. Personally, I hope I never forget them.

Our last homework week asked us to plot our lives on a timeline, placing large dots along the line to mark significant events. The goal was to note how God showed up again and again in our lives at important junctures and that he was there all along, even during the rough patches.

As I studied my completed timeline, God pointed out something new. His presence in my life hasn’t been just to open doors for me but also to slam them shut. As my finger traveled along the pencil marks, I suddenly realized how many catastrophes he’d saved me from by his closed doors, that they were equally as important as the ones he opened.

At the time, though, I suffered, sometimes crying out to God through tears, “How could you?!” One example was the break-up of a dating relationship with a non-believer that I dearly wanted to keep. But if that door had stayed open, I would have walked through it, eliminating the possibility of marrying Nate. And Nate was God’s choice of husband for me.

And so, as November 29th passes by one more time, I’m not sad. As I finger Nate’s wedding band, my only thought is gratitude. And I hope I’ve learned that when God closes doors in front of me, even the ones I really want to walk through, it’s only his way of marking my timeline with a great big blessing.

“Teach me how to live, O Lord. Lead me along the right path.” (Psalm 27:11)