My house has not been clean since 2015. It used to glow with warmth and comfort and smell-goods. It does none of these things now. My home looks at me and says, “Jen, where did we go wrong?”
Listen y'all, I actually hired someone to clean my house. But with the layers of boydom scattered throughout the house it barely made a dent. It smelled better but there were still fruit loops embedded in the carpet by day’s end.
I scroll through the Book of Face and I can’t fathom how so many of you moms and dads keep amazingly clean homes. I mean, I can smell the thieves oil through my screen. You all will surely receive the crown of cleanliness in heaven. (Because cleanliness is next to Godliness. That’s in the bible, right? )
I will receive the crown of Gosh-girl-you-made-it-We-had-our-doubts-up-here. It will be made of worn out leggings, caramel coffee creamer, and empty bottles of dry shampoo.
My work on earth is a mod podge of many things, but the biggest work of all is raising these messy boys.
I was listening to the old tried and true carol Hark! The Herald Angels Sing! (which in today’s language can be translated to Hey! Listen! The angels are talking to us! Try singing that on Sunday and see what kind of looks the church peoples around you give. It’s like a game. It will be fun.)
Matt Maher has a great version of this carol. I’ve listened to it several times this season.
I've known all the verses for as long as I can remember. This is a standard from my childhood. But this year the third verse hit me hard and made the hair on my arms stand up:
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth.
I thought, Hey! I do that, too!
I am currently raising sons of earth. Three of ‘em.
This is why my house smells like boy. Precious, hearts of gold, handsome, fun boy. But boy all the same.
Will you read the whole third verse with me? It goes like this:
Hail! the heaven-born
Prince of peace!
Hail! the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die:
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn King!"
I love my children something fierce. I would go into flames for them, dive into water, I would do anything to save them. I care for their safety. I take them to the doctor, give them vitamins, and gave them the “tricky people” talk (Look it up. It’s good.). I will watch my children walk through the yard to make sure they get next door to my in-laws' house until I see Grammy and Pop’s door shut.
I do my best to keep them well and safe. But that’s where it ends. You see, one day, my children will face death. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about that.
So I turn it over to the One who has already dealt with death for them. Did you hear it?
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die:
And then:
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
I raise my sons, but I cannot raise them to heaven.
I gave birth to my sons, but I cannot deliver them from death.
It goes like this, from John 3:
Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.”
Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”
“How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!”
Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit."
You, dear reader, are a wonderful parent. You love, and kiss, and hug, and read all the stories, and play all the games. You provide shelter and safety. You provide traditions and cookies and Chuck E. Cheese.
But you cannot provide heaven.
Dear Reader, you must give your family the gift of church. You must give them the gift of Jesus. There are things you dear, wonderful, perfect mother cannot provide.
You know who needs raising, too? You. You count. Just as Jesus wants to raise your children, he wants to raise you too. He wants to give you light and life.
This is the kind of stuff that changes families. This is the kind of stuff that creates Christmas miracles.
So this year when you’re cleaning and earning that crown of cleanliness glory, when you’re buying the presents, when you’re making the Oreo balls (make an extra batch and drop them off at my house. I’ll PM you the address.), put take my family to church on the list. Better yet, put take my family to church every Sunday on the list. Also, put take my family to Sunday School or children’s church or connect group or life group or whatever the cool kids are calling it these days. Teenagers, too. TAKE YOUR TEENAGERS TO CHURCH. Tell them the phone bill or the car insurance will be paid through church attendance. Tell them this is their payment for ALL THE THINGS YOU BUY THEM. So what if they’re mad? My oldest is mad at me right now because I fussed at him for eating all the yogurt and I’m making him watch his baby brother so I can type this. And I don’t care. I provide him with access to Minecraft. He’ll get over it.
Wouldn’t it be something when we’re in heaven and we’re receiving our crowns and y’all are getting your cleanliness crowns and I’m getting my Wow, she actually made it crown, Jesus says something like:
Wait, here’s another crown. A crown for raising. Because you raised them to know me, I could raise them to heaven. Because my name was spoken in your home, your children confessed my name to the world.
Because we raise the sons and daughters of earth to know Jesus, because we birthed them into church, he could raise them from death and give them second birth.
Friend, receive the crown of pointing your children to Jesus. I hope you sing this carol this year with a fresh and new gusto. This carol of life and death and sin and redemption. Take your babes to church, wrap your arms around their precious shoulders and tell them about Jesus. Sing this hymn and whisper lovingly into their ears: “Hey! Listen! The angels are talking to us. And they’re telling us about our Savior.”
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