I have two teens. Beautiful and talented and intelligent and hilarious, the best in all the land. But teenagers nonetheless, in all their teenage glory. Sigh.

They loathe correction. Of course. Bristle at the mere hint of its impending arrival. Correction and teenagers are just like oil and water.

Although, now officially forty years old, I can’t say that I react much more favorably to discipline, no matter how constructive. I no longer bristle, but my heart certainly does quicken.

What is it in us that so dislikes the things that can be used for our good and our growth? The conflict started early on, at the very beginning. When Father relayed to Adam and Eve that they could eat of absolutely anything in the garden EXCEPT one single tree – not even approaching corrective territory, but rather a simple directive – and the inner turmoil was set into motion. That slithery serpent, an enemy of everything good and honorable, encroached on their innocence. Sweet, wide-eyed innocence, the very thing that eradicated all the ick, was demolished. A twisted version of curiosity and suspicion was awakened in its place.   

Sometimes correction is harsh and life-altering. Major moments come crashing down on us at the least expected times and slug us into trajectories we never saw coming.

Other times, correction can be soft hints, subtle suggestions. Mere whispers of an exertion of authority. Like Adam and Eve, gently being told what to do by the their loving Creator. No matter how reasonable or pure its intention, still, we recoil.

Forty years brings with it a whole trunk load of correction. From all sides. I’d like to think that as the years have passed and my correction muscle has been flexed, stretched and strengthened, I’ve learned to accept it with a measure of grace. But that’s likely more wishful thinking than anything else.

I’m grateful for it nonetheless. All these lessons from my Lord remind me that a good God never leaves me in the muck and mire I deserve to be sitting in. He prefers to try, try, try again, believing that His daughter has everything necessary in her to step into the destiny He designed. My God is relentlessly sold on a good underdog story. I’m living proof of that.

I suspect maybe you are too. Isn’t it encouraging to think that all across the land are millions and millions of lives bearing testimony to His goodness, to His blueprint of redemption? I find it to be the prettiest sentiment of them all.

Below are the final ten of the endearing lessons God has been faithful to nestle into my heart over the last forty years. But if I know my Father well, then I know He won’t stop at forty. No, no, He’s only getting started.

1. Everyday living is altogether ridiculous and beautiful. I mean, don’t you think? Isn’t funny to look at the landscape of our days from an aerial view and see the happenings? To think of the things to which we assess value? To muse at what upsets humanity, and at what appeases us? It’s a great gift that a patient and kind Father can see the beginning and the end simultaneously. To bring our lack of focus into order. To nudge us back to the plan. And that plan is always right on target, perfect and plentiful. It’s always the best way, friends.
2. We are judged on our output, not our intentions. Period. What you meant holds little weight to anyone residing on planet Earth. Actions blur our intentions far more than they provide clarity. So proceed with the utmost transparency. Resist the urge to make assumptions. And while you’re at it, offer the benefit of the doubt to those around you.
3. Sing. Loud and proud. It’s mentioned over one hundred times in the Bible and it knits humanity together like a quilt. Joyful noise, the most tender of love languages, one that we all speak. It reaches across genders and races, age and title, oceans and cultures. It cancels out economic status and politics and social structures. It pulsates underneath all the activity and constructs a soundtrack for our days. In the roughest patches, when God cradled me like an infant, and words snubbed my efforts to speak, I could still sing. And He understood every word. So sing. As much as you can. Loud. Proud. Often.
4. Families can be made. From friends and coworkers and neighbors and your favorite restaurant server. From customers and your dentist and a friend of a friend and your church. You can piece together the sweetest of families by linking lives, hemmed in by common threads. You can and you should. Because families born of blood are often flawed. The families you create smooth over those rough edges, helping to carry the load of your need for relationship.
5. But families of origin matter too. They matter a lot. Because God authored families. He set us in families to stave off loneliness, to refine us, and to reflect His design for relationship. But they sure are messy. In families we encounter deep dysfunction and raw hurt. We smack into baggage and burdens. Forgiveness and boundaries should be skillsets you become adept at executing with your family members. Dole them out in equal measure. Follow Father’s lead for all the stuff in between.
6. You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. Because tantrums only suggest that you feel deserving of something, and that’s good old fashioned silliness, friends. Some of the most sizeable blow-ups I’ve been witness to came by way of not a toddler, but a bona fide adult. Sometimes we get what’s coming to us. Sometimes we get an extra helping. By way of a generous God, we often get far better than we deserve. You can trust Him to steward the distribution with kindness and purpose. Take what comes your way. But whatever you do, don’t pitch a fit, y’all.
7. Control your tongue. Back in my school days, a common theme emerged. My parents would hear time and again that I was a good student. A diligent worker. Friendly and compliant in following the rules. But – BUT – I was a talker. Now forty, I can trace my chatter all the way back to the beginning, when a listening ear beckoned me like moths to a flame. These days, commentary on my chatty habit is usually met with a shrug of my shoulders, because it is what it is, friends. But, I’ve learned an important lesson along the way. Control my tongue. Friendly conversation is one thing. Gossip is another. Badmouthing is out of bounds. Declarations made with little evidence can be dangerous. God characterizes those of us who’ve spiraled into blabbermouths as FOOLS. And the uncontrolled tongue is in it’s heyday, with social media providing a ready forum for every grumble, every whine, every pseudo expert. Be careful where you lodge those words that fall effortlessly from your lips. Zip it.
8. You can never, ever have enough quality sleep. There’s a sentiment along the lines of ‘You can sleep when you’re dead.’ Oy vey. How silly. If my God – who requires none of the earthly supports like food and water to sustain Him – marked out an entire day for rest each week, then I sure as the sky is blue require it. We can take it as truth that sleep is not simply a luxury, but an absolute necessity. And for good reason. Beside the positive effects it has on our physiology, God does some of His best work when we’re at rest. He restores. He reveals dreams. He lays down peace and clarity. He recalibrates with new mercy. It’s no wonder that a good night’s sleep and the welcome of a new morning can feel so good to us. Quit pushing the boundaries of your waking hours and seek out the gift He provides with commanded rest.
9. Holding your baby for the first time will feel like holding the universe in your hands. God designed it that way. Because that little one holds all His secrets. All the goodness that He encompasses, in the smallest package. Bound up in the soft, buttery skin and peach fuzz hair is His creation. It’s meant to take your breath away. To pause your heartbeat. To ground you. For many years, in the days when I was exhausted with the heavy weight of rearing littles, I lacked a true appreciation for those tiny humans. Age has softened my perspective and yielded to magical admiration. If there is anything besides an encounter with Father himself that can usher in awe, it’s a baby. Give way to being wonderstruck by them. It will enrich your life immeasurably.
10. The stunning and devastating live next door to each other. As a general rule, not the exception. In my 20’s, I found myself lost in irritability at the lack of polish in my life. When one area thrived, another plummeted. A morning that was filled with joy could easily be eclipsed by an evening shadowed with malaise. Why couldn’t things just be easy? Because that’s just not how it works. Some of the destruction is wrapped up in a fallen world. Sometimes we create foul devastation in our recklessness. But Father is faithful to use it all for our good, and reveal the splendor that keeps company with all the ugly. I may feel exasperated by this dichotomy, but Father simply does not. And year by year, He’s helped me to weed through the sad, desolate moments in search of the joy. It’s like mining for treasure. And I never fail to find gold.

See you soon, friends.