chosen bride

The moment Jael saw Joshua she knew she liked him.  She had heard about all the good things he had done for the community, and all that he planned to bestow upon the woman he would marry.  She saw that he was a man of integrity, that he was a hard worker who would provide well for his bride, that he had built a beautiful home for her.  He was wealthy, prominent, but not proud.  He was polite and kind to all, and ready to lend a hand to anyone who had need.  This was the man of her dreams, and she decided she was going to marry him.  He was a prolific writer, and she read everything he had ever written.  In this way, she learned so much about him, including all the things he desired in a bride.  She began to work hard to make herself into that person.  She also discovered where he liked to gather with his friends, and went there.  She introduced herself, and tried to talk with him as much as she could, so they could get to know each other.

Jael told everyone how much she loved Joshua, and she tried to do the things she thought he would want her to do.  She was so eager to marry him!  He never asked her to marry him, but she thought he wouldn't mind if she asked him.  She brought it up several times in their conversations, and talked about all she wanted in a wedding.  She was so interested in what she was saying that she scarcely noticed he wasn't really listening.  In fact, if Jael had not been so caught up with all the things she was doing, she might have wondered at the time Joshua spent talking with a young girl named Rachel.  But Jael didn't notice, and she continued her plans.  She asked him to settle on a date, but he didn't answer her.  She decided he would let her know when he was ready.

Jael was pleased one day to see an announcement on Joshua's website that he had chosen his bride, and had set a date for the wedding.  She was surprised he hadn't called her first, but at least now she had a date.  On the day appointed, she got herself all dressed up in flowing white.  She had her hair gorgeously arranged with pearls and gold and filmy white veil.  She arrived at the church in a limousine, but was a little disconcerted at finding no one outside.  No red carpet lined the stairs, and the doors were closed.

Confused, Jael climbed the stairs and reached to open the door.  It was locked.  She shook it.  It didn't budge.  There were no windows, so she could not see what was going on inside.  She knocked.  No one answered.  She knocked harder, pounding with her fists, tears of panic pouring down her cheeks.  Finally she heard footsteps, then the bolt slipped and the door opened.

"May I help you?"  Jael recognized the tuxedo-clad man as a close friend of Joshua's.

"Oh, Gilchrist!  What has happened?  Why have I been shut out?  Where is Joshua?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The wedding...I'm here for the wedding..." Jael began to realize from the confusion on Gilchrist's face that something was terribly wrong.

"The wedding has already begun.  You are late.  Do you have an invitation?"

"An invita--  Gilchrist, I am the bride!  I don't need to be invited to my own wedding!!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you must be mistaken.  Joshua's bride is there."

Gilchrist opened the door wider, and pointed toward the altar.  To Jael's horror, there stood Rachel!  Her spotless gown shone like the sun, making Jael's appear gaudy, soiled, cheap.  Even at this distance, Jael could see the adoration in Rachel's eyes, the pure love in Joshua's, as they stood reciting their vows.

Jael let out a shriek and collapsed on the steps.  The guests sitting nearest the door turned, whispering among themselves, wondering who this delusioned creature was, dressed as a bride at someone else's wedding.  After glancing at her with embarrassed pity, they turned their eyes back to Joshua and his beloved.  Gilchrist shut the door, leaving Jael huddled, sobbing, outside on the step.

Soon Jael heard organ music begin to play, and footsteps drew closer.  She scrambled out of the way just as the doors began to open.  Joshua and Rachel came out, hand in hand, to the cheers of the guests.  For the first time, Jael noticed the carriage waiting for them.  But this was the wrong bride, surely!  What was this all about?  This was her day, not Rachel's!  Besides, everybody knew all the work she had done for Joshua, all the kindnesses she had bestowed in his name, all the changing she had done in her own life to make herself a fit bride for him!  Who was this Rachel, anyway?  She was nobody but a poor, miserable wretch who had spent most of her life with the worst people over on the other side of town, the place where respectable people never dared walk the streets by day, let alone at night.  How she ever got connected with Joshua in the first place was a complete mystery.  But now here she was, clean, radiant, with a love in her eyes that made Jael feel uncomfortable.

Jael knew she was running out of time.  She couldn't lose Joshua!  She had to make him see the mistake he was making!  In desperation she flung herself at him, hardly noticing or caring that she was making herself ridiculous.

"Joshua, what are you doing?  You were supposed to marry me, not this miserable tramp!"

The guests, stunned at Jael's outburst, gasped at her insult.  Joshua's face reddened.  "Who are you?  How dare you insult my bride?"

"Who am I?  Joshua, I'm Jael.  We were supposed to get married today!  I asked you to marry me!  I worked so hard to be the bride you wanted me to be.  I--"

"You asked to marry me, but I never said yes.  My love is for Rachel, and Rachel only.  I never loved you.  Now if you'll excuse us--"

But Jael refused to move.  She clung to Joshua.  "Never loved me?  But how--  I did so much for you!  I asked you to love me!  You have to love me!"

Joshua grew impatient, even angry.  "Gilchrist!"

As Gilchrist stepped forward, Jael's jealousy changed to unmasked rage.  She turned on Rachel and spat in her face.  Gilchrist just barely restrained her from clawing at Rachel.

Joshua became furious.  "Have this woman arrested!  She shall not spoil this day!  Away with her!"  Then, gathering his weeping Rachel in his arms, he stepped into the carriage.  Just as the driver pulled away, the guests saw him wiping away Rachel's tears, gazing tenderly into her face.

Jael was arrested, kicking, screaming, full of rage, and dragged away.  No one ever saw her again.

our home school journey

 Typical school day morning, September 2013




We began our home school journey in the fall of 1992 when our oldest was four years old.  We have learned a lot over the years, and our philosophy has changed with our growth.  When we started out, we lived in Ohio, where home schooling had only just become legal.  We felt obligated to "do it right" and use an established curriculum which we knew would be approved by the head of the local school board.  So I dutifully ordered all the brightly colored (and expensive) student books and teacher materials A Beka said I had to have for K4.  In due time, the box came, and one sunny September morning my son and I walked over to the church building next door (where I thought he would not be distracted) and we began.

I don't like to remember that day, or that year.  Before the end of two years, I hated home schooling, and wondered if there could possibly be another choice besides public school and (expensive) Christian school.

We moved to Texas in the spring of 1995.  I had basically suspended school during the upheaval of moving, and Texas was a gloriously free state with no enforced home school regulations.  The church there had its own private, members only, school, and I looked forward to placing my two older boys there in the fall. 

It never happened.  It's too long a story to tell here, but we decided to continue home schooling.  I did my research, and this time chose Bob Jones.  Only, Bob Jones was about a year behind A Beka in content, so for my oldest it was like repeating first grade.  We were all bored with the program, and schooling became a drudgery, something we all dreaded and despised.

The next fall, I began a form of "unschooling", though I had no idea that was really a term.  I just thought I was being lazy.  I made sure the children did their math.  I taught my daughter how to read.  Every now and then I had them turn in a writing assignment, and we used those to talk a little bit about spelling, grammar and punctuation.  I bought curriculum we only partly used before I astounded the children by burning it.  We watched a lot of educational programs on PBS, and we visited the library a LOT.  I looked over their books, making sure they had a good mix of fiction and non-fiction, history and science.  But basically let them read whatever they wanted.

Those two or three years were the best, but I didn't know that then.  I thought I was lazy and failing my children, but I needed that respite.  We were about to enter the lion's den.

In 1999, we moved to New York State, the second hardest state in the Union for home schoolers, at least at that time.  Due to all the rigid laws and my own inexperience, we returned--with dread--to A Beka.  Since our fourth child was still younger than the compulsory age of attendance in New York, I only had to deal with the first three.

The books came, and the light began to dawn.  My second son came to me, new history book in hand and disappointment all over his face.  "I know all this stuff already," he mourned.  So that's what all that free reading during the "lazy" years had done.  Slowly, I began to consider other options to the traditional sit-at-your-desk, fill-in-the-blanks, workbook-and-pencil type of curriculum. 

I sought out new catalogs, researched hands-on curricula, and read radical-sounding books.  My all-time favourite was, and continues to be, A Charlotte Mason Companion: Personal Reflections on the Gentle Art of Learning by Karen Andreola.  I found a kindred spirit in Mrs. Andreola, and read all her reviews in Christian Book Distributors' home school catalog.  I couldn't afford to buy all the stuff she reviewed, but I learned a lot just by reading about her experiences.  She blew a breath of fresh air into my weary soul, and a whole new world began to open up to me my children.

The year 2000 saw us packing up again, this time to move to Ontario.  Ontario's home school laws are even freer than those in Texas, which I didn't think was possible.  Every year after that, I continued to explore and change.  We rarely did the same thing twice.  The children learned a lot.  Our philosophy changed even more as we looked around at the sorry state of affairs in the public school system, and at the results they were getting.

As the older ones passed through high school, they gained an adequate education that they had to help earn by doing a lot of things on their own.  What they didn't learn at home, they learned in the work place and in apprenticeship programs.  One of them earned a bona-fide home school diploma.  Others chose to work through their teen years and get their diploma through an adult continuing education program.  All of them took time to choose what they wanted in life, and geared their learning experiences toward that end.

I still have five children working through home school.  We gather every morning and spend an average of 2-3 hours doing academics, but our whole world is one gigantic classroom.  Gardening, baking, cleaning, yard work, laundry, and a whole host of other home chores prepare them for real life in their own real families.  Interaction with family and friends of all ages at home and at church, on field trips and at the park, on vacation, and in other public places teaches them real-life social skills with a variety of people, not just with their own age-mates.

Our children are good workers who are in high demand.  The manager at Wendy's is a bit miffed that one of our sons has no interest in working there, and keeps trying to recruit him.  One man came knocking on our door saying what good things he had heard about our boys, and could we spare a couple of them to work for him.  One daughter is working for her piano teacher in exchange for more advanced lessons.  Even the younger boys work hard doing "man things" like cutting and stacking wood, mowing grass, remodeling the house, and processing chickens.

They are also polite and friendly to all.  Babies, toddlers and preschoolers adore them, and adults love having them around.  They have friends their own age, but also enjoy the company of those older and younger than themselves.

I say these things not to boast, but in awe and with great thanksgiving to our Lord for leading us on this journey, however reluctant I may have been at times.

well reported of for good works

 Spring, 2009

Two sisters and their brother lived together in a small town called Bethany.  It is not known for sure whether any of them were married or had children, but it seems unlikely.  Maybe one or more of them had been married, and were now widowed.  No parents are mentioned, so they were likely deceased.  According to the law of the land, single women and widows remained in their father's house until marriage/remarriage, or until death.  If they had no father, they lived with a brother, an uncle, or some other male relative, in his house.  The fact that these sisters lived with their brother is a strong indication they were not married.  This is an important point to note.

This sibling group was well known for their hospitality.  Their house was a favourite resting place of our Lord's while conducting His earthly ministry.  He often visited, and wherever He was, there was sure to be a crowd.  Mary, Martha, and Lazarus opened their home to all.  They loved their Lord Jesus, and they loved being part of His ministry.  They loved and served because that's what we do when we truly love our Lord.

What do we really know about these people?  Martha is often criticized; Mary is praised, and elevated to an almost unattainable position.  The only thing we usually mention about Lazarus is that he was raised from the dead.  Do we accept these stories, and only these stories, or do we dig deeper?

Listening to sermons about Mary and Martha usually makes me cringe.  One is held up against the other, compared, scrutinized, with the end result that Mary is venerated, while Martha is almost villainized.  Worse, we women -- no matter who we are, or in what stage of life we find ourselves -- are exhorted to be more like Mary, less like Martha.  That's a lot of guilt to heap on all of us who identify more with Martha than with Mary.

I spent a good deal of time writhing under the guilt of being Martha when I was being told I needed really to be Mary.  I felt I was being belittled along with Martha; that my gifts and abilities were not nearly so highly valued as the prayers of those who seem to sit for hours at the Lord's feet.  I felt the ridicule of those who made fun of Martha.  As one person said, "If the church called everyone for prayer and fasting, Martha would bring the muffins."  This is grossly unfair to Martha, and shows that many people really don't understand the Scriptures.

Have you ever thought that maybe the reason we knock Martha down so much is because she happened to have a sister like Mary?  Think about it: Who criticizes Dorcas for spending so much time sewing clothes for poor people?  Who thinks Priscilla did wrong making tents with her husband Aquilla and with the apostle Paul?  Who believes Susanna, Joanna, and many other women should not have used their wealth to meet the needs of the Lord?  Certainly Lydia should not have taken in Paul and Silas, feeding them and providing a place for them to sleep.  Surely she should have stayed by the river with all the other women praying instead of making meals and changing sheets.

Do you see my point?  Martha was not wrong to serve.  That was her gift.  Jesus was a human being who required food, water, a place to sleep, clothing, and even friendship, just as much as the rest of us.  What a privilege it must have been to cook for Him, to make a bed for Him, to sew and mend for Him, and, yes, even to sit quietly at His feet just listening to Him talk!

Martha's problem was her attitude.  She was "cumbered about with much serving".  The idea in the Greek is that she was being far too detail oriented.  The tablecloth had to be snowy white and wrinkle free.  The napkins had to be folded just so.  The silverware had to be arranged in the order of their use, with the salad fork on the outside because it would be used before the dinner fork.  The food had to be just so, served in their proper dishes with the proper utensils and at the proper time.

Jesus got hungry just like anyone else, and needed food.  But He also craved fellowship.  He didn't mind Martha cooking for Him.  What He minded was that she was so busy with all the unnecessary details that she had no time to sit and fellowship with Him.  This is what He rebuked her for.  Later, another story is told of the same family, again with the Lord visiting in their home.  This time, it appears Martha has learned her lesson.  She is still using her gift of service.  But now it's not encumbering her.  Instead, she is simply serving quietly in the Lord's presence.

Remember my point about Mary and Martha being single, and without children?  They had more time for things like sitting at the Lord's feet than most married mothers do.  Mary-Martha analogies are often damaging to mothers because we don't have time to sit in quiet reflection with our Bibles open before us for hours on end.  We have diapers to change, husbands to feed, dirty clothes to wash, floors to mop, vomit to clean up, jeans to patch, and all the rest of it.  We would be wrong to neglect all that in order to shut ourselves up in our prayer closets.  And after being up half the night with a sick child or a nursing baby, there's no way I'm going to be able to get up at five so I can spend an hour reading my Bible and praying before the rest of the family gets up.

Nor should we neglect prayer and Bible reading.  I have learned to study my Bible with my door open and my ears attune to the sounds of children getting dressed and doing chores.  And they are welcome at my side, as well.  Sometimes a child has to sit beside me in order to stay out of trouble, and we've had a number of conversations about the chapter I'm reading out loud.  The girls and I sing a lot while working in the kitchen: scripture songs, hymns, choruses.  I'm often carrying on a conversation with the Lord while hanging out laundry or working in the garden.

But this isn't just worshiping while working.  My work is my worship, because I'm doing it for HIM.  I wrote about that once in my old blog, in a post titled Holy Ground.  Service is just as much a part of worship as praying.  Some people have not learned this.  They are content to sit at the Lord's feet without serving, and are often so heavenly minded they are of no earthly good.  Amy Carmichael, working with the poorest of the poor in India, once asked a visiting missionary to help her by carrying a bucket.  He replied that he would rather carry his Bible.  But Jesus said that in order to be great in His kingdom, a man must learn to be the servant of all.

Still others go to the other extreme of serving without bothering with the fellowship with Jesus part.  They are prone to complaining about all the work they have to do that no one is helping them with.  If only other people would work, they would have more time to spend with Jesus.  But since no one else is helping, there they are, so pitiful, doing all this work while Jesus sits on the sidelines saying, "Martha, Martha..."

Let's learn to turn our service into worship, taking the few minutes we have as wives and mothers to be alone with God when we can, but always remembering that He is with us always, and fellowship with Him all day long as we do our work with Him and for Him.