Politically incorrect: Motherhood & living together

Among my daily reads, I came across two articles, both from National Review, that fly in the face of post-modernism, an ethic that says, "Anyway is a good way as long as it's your way."

The first deals with working moms.  It's sure to ignite a firestorm.  You'll find it here.

The second peaks beneath the covers of cohabitation (sorry), and the damage unmarried parents inflicts upon the children.  More fuel for the flames.  Read it here.

Bottom line to both:  Doing it 'my way' ends in misery.

I'll never forget the great advice my friend Brian Rath once gave me.  I was stewing in the misery of a job failure when he told me, "If we could orchestrate our lives exactly as we wanted them to be, we would be the most miserable people." The heart of the matter? God knows what's best. He has a plan. We must trust and obey.

Will we ever get it?

Complaint v. Petition

I had a normal dream the other night.

I don't suspect that normal should be an adjective used when chatting about dreams, but having shared with my bride the surreality that unleashes itself when I dip into REM sleep, I'd have to say that that night's forray into the peculiar and inexplicable land of Morpheus comes as close to normal life as anything I've experienced in many a day.

In the darkness of my early morning, I thanked God for my normal dream, but the moment the words passed my lips, it dawned on me that I'd never asked him for a normal dream. I'd groused about the weirdness of my dreams--no, I'd complained about them--but I never once asked him for something less bizarre.

And then I thought of Israel.

Israel endured 400 years of slavery at the hand of Egypt. God worked in miraculous ways to free the 2 million-plus folks he had chosen as his special people. Hot on the heels of one of the most amazing military victories ever and a handful of days after their release, the Hebrews got hungry and thirsty. Rather than ask the One who delivered them from their servitude for some food and water, they griped. Oh, how they griped.

"Would that we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the meat pots and ate bread to the full, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger." (Exodus 16:3)

"Why did you bring us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and our livestock with thirst?" (Exodus 17:3)

"Oh that we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt that cost nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. But now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at." (Numbers 11:4-6)

As the One who gives and the One who witholds, God understood with absolute clarity Israel's need (Matthew 6:8). He also understood the heart of their gripe; it was against Him. Thus kindled God's righteous displeasure with his people.

What would have changed the deal? How about, "God, we are parched and we are starved. As you miraculously made the way for our escape from Egypt, we trust you completely to take care of us and to provide for our needs. We look forward to how you will do that because we can't figure it out in this dry and barren place." Just a little trust toward the One who had proven himself so very trustworthy.

I hope in the future if I'm troubled in the least by the utter weirdness of my dreams that I will simply trust God to do his good work. If I'd like them stopped, I'll make that request (with thanksgiving, Philippians 4:6), and continue to trust him for the next emersion into REM sleep. I'd hate to endure the outcome of Israel's grousing (Numbers 11:19-20).