Milemarker~Joshua Zion is twelve years old

Josh #12; Jon #61

...which means I have been parenting for some 12 years, nine months...give or take a week.   Reading this post will require you to travel down memory lane with me and remembering some of my favorite Josh moments...to know him is to love him.

When Josh and Jon were in preschool they became consumed with acting out some of their favorite Bible stories.  They saw the children’s movie Prince of Egypt and were very inspired by the drama.  One afternoon I caught Josh playing in the yard with no shoes.  This irks me.  Either put on your shoes or take off your socks.  My preference, because we had dogs in the yard, was that he put on shoes.  I told him as much. 

“Josh, put your shoes on, please.”

“Mom, I can’t.  The Lord says I’m standing on Holy Ground.” 

This Easter outfit had a tie at one point.

Another afternoon, close to Easter, I went out to find all of their superheroes (Batman, Superman, Flash, Incredible Hulk) laying on the driveway.  I assumed there had been a nuclear disaster on some alien planet far, far away and went to investigate.  Upon closer inspection I realized that each hero was laying atop a little pile of sticks. 

“Josh, what are you doing?  Are they getting burned?”

It was then that the neighbor walked over.  He had been doing yard work and had come over to investigate the scene a little earlier.  “ They've been crucified,” he explained.

I looked again and realized it was true.  Each hero was carefully placed on two perpendicular sticks.  They had crucified their heroes. 

“What happens now?”  I really wanted to know.

“Now Jesus saves them.”

Jedi cowboys with swords

A few weeks later I caught the boys tying ropes around each other and leading each other through the yard.  I went to intervene.  I assumed they were playing cattle drive or something like that.  But we have a couple of non-negotiable rules in our home.  Rule number 5 is that we keep our promises…to each other, to our friends, to our baseball coach, to our teachers.  Rule number 4 is we use our words in kind ways and we don’t hit girls ever.  Rule number 3 is we take a polite bite of our food and we say thank you for food, even if we don’t like it.  Rule number 2 is we go to church on Sunday and we participate with the Holy Spirit.  Seem to hit most of them?  What could rule number one be?  Burris Family Rule #1 is (and I do not lie)  "no ropes around the neck."  This does not have a dramatic story to go with it, and it may seem to some to be a bit of an overkill (pardon the pun).  But it became obvious as boy number 2 became mobile only 14 months after boy number 1 there would have to be preventative measures taken if they both were going to make it to adulthood.  (You know, of course, that goal number one of parenting is keep them alive.)  So Burris Family Rule Number 1 (this is how we refer to it…regularly) is “no ropes around the neck.”  I realized on this afternoon I would have to expand the rule to no ropes around the waist and I was trying to decide if I would include no ropes around ankles and wrists and heads or just take the rope away (my sister says I could make fewer rules if I were less specific and more pro-active…she was very critical the day I said, “Please don’t cut your sister with the knife at the table.”  My sister doesn’t have kids yet).  Then I was close enough to hear their dialogue.

“Take him to the cross!”  Josh exclaimed this to an unseen guard.  Jon, with imaginary bindings on his wrists and a lowered head stumbled behind his big brother in pretend agony.  Josh then loosened the rope and mimicked nailing Jon’s hands and feet to an invisible cross.  After a moment Josh lowered the now relaxed body of his younger brother to the leafy ground and dragged him to the swing set.  Jon lay still for a moment then rose to his feet and walked toward Josh with his arms raised.

“Okay, Jon, my turn to be Jesus.”  And the re-enactment started over again with roles reversed.  I let them keep the rope.

The game was called “Take Him to the Cross” and they played for weeks.  My sister said they were getting too much church.

Josh is a warrior.  We named him Joshua Zion because we wanted to claim God’s promises for our future family that God would fight for us.  We did not have to be afraid, only believe.  We would choose, our whole household, to serve the Lord.  We believed that the Lord is Zion’s champion and we wanted “in” on the promise.  So our first little blond-haired, blue-eyed, Protestant, southern baby boy was named Joshua Zion.  He was born with a warrior’s heart.  It used to bother my mother that he was constantly fighting with sticks.  He never hit anyone, but he swung sticks like his life depended on it.  She bought sword after sword: plastic, Styrofoam, retractable, glow-in-the-dark, rubber.  It didn't matter.  Oh, he would swing those too.  But sticks worked well enough.  He is twelve now and still carries a stick.  We find sticks in our cars, bedrooms, tucked into corners, on the porch, under furniture…he stores the good sticks. Albert Einstein said,"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." Josh will be ready.  He’s never been in a fight.  Well, okay, he has scrapped with his brother plenty and has had to put up with sister brawls.  But this warrior-child has never, ever lifted a hand against a friend or enemy…nor has he been hit by someone else (which says something of its own).  He talks to us a lot about the violence in the world.  He creates stories in which those who are violent are put down by warriors who don’t love violence, but use force to stop it.  He loves action/adventure movies: Star Wars, Pirates of Caribbean, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, Marvel Comics, X-Men, GI Joe, Transformers, Chronicles of Narnia…he loves it.  He loves war stories.  He can discuss generals, battle plans, dates, and strategies from the Civil War, the Alamo, and World War II. He has a copy of the Preamble and the Declaration of Independence hanging in his room…next to the Marvel Comic poster.

 He recently was confronted with a situation that frightened him:  a new class.  Our family moved mid-year.  He had a new school, new home, new church, and now was expected by his preacher-mom to go to a new 5^th and 6^th grade Bible study.

 “No.”

 That was his final word.  “Punish me however.  I won’t go.”  Did I mention Josh is a stubborn warrior?  After several moments of frustration on my part, I decided to stop focusing on my needs in the situation and discover his.

 “Why Josh?  Why can’t you go in there?”

“I’m afraid.”

“I understand that.  I have been afraid, too, moving to this new place.  I think you’re doing a great job.  Hey, can you think of someone in the Bible who was brave?”  I figure Josh is going to pick Moses or Joshua or David…his favorite warriors.

“Jesus was brave.”

“Wow.  He really was brave.  Can you think of a story of when Jesus had to do something really hard or that he was afraid to do?”  I assume at this point we will talk about Jesus dying on the cross.

“I think it must have been really hard to let Lazarus die.  Jesus could have healed him, but he needed to let him die so the other people could see the miracle.  It really hurt Jesus’s feelings because he cried.  I think it took a lot of courage for Jesus to just let Lazarus die.”

Josh is a warrior serving the God-of-the-Angel-Armies.  He did not get punished for missing Bible study that night.  I don’t know if Josh was identifying more with Jesus or Lazarus that night.  The next week he found the courage to go in.  

Gifts of Epiphany

 Have you ever gotten a gift that you wondered, “what in the world…” on Christmas morning, but found months later it was the best thing you could have not asked for? 

I have to think that was what Mary was thinking as the Magi from the east made their way out of her modest home that evening.  Imagine the scene with me…

Jesus, probably around the age of 15 months toddles from around his mother’s skirts to get a better look at the strange men who have appeared at the door.

 “We have come seeking the king,” they claim.

 “You’re off by a few miles, buddy,” comes the short reply from Mary’s neighbor.  Obviously strangers, the well-dressed, travel-worn wise men ask permission to enter Mary’s home.

 “Please, let me ask my husband to come in,” she may have quickly stalled.  After making sure the men and their animals have something to drink and a place to sit a moment, she scoops “the king” into her arms and rushes to Joseph’s wood shop.  She doesn’t make it all the way there as he has already been told of the strange visitors.

 “What do they want, Mary?  Do they mean harm?  How could they possibly know anything?”

 “I don’t know, Joseph.  They don’t seem to mean any harm…their words were, “we have come to worship the king.”  But I don’t understand how they found us…him.”

  At that moment the “leader” of the group rounds the corner.  “I don’t mean to startle you, nor do I mean to eavesdrop.  But I can understand your concern.  I hope you believe me when I say we certainly did not expect to disrupt your little community as we had no idea we would find him in such…humble surroundings.  We traveled first to Jerusalem, assuming he would be among the royal families.  Imagine our surprise when the star kept moving, bringing us to this…quaint village.”  Though kind, the man’s words are unmistakable, even if they do align with Mary and Joseph’s thoughts:  what is the Messiah doing here??

The star.  Just another one of the mysteries surrounding Jesus.  There had been so many…so many steps of faith.  Joseph had stopped trying to figure it out.  A man could go crazy trying to figure out the mind of God…especially when that man is tasked with feeding the mouth of God.  Mary seemed content with all the mystery.  Perhaps having the mystery grow inside of her changed her somehow.  They had wondered at the star that seemed to follow them since the night of Jesus’ birth.  But asking anyone would have started a conversation they were unprepared to finish.  So they were left to wonder…one of the questions they would ask this son of theirs…once he learned to talk.

Now the other travelers joined the tiny family in Joseph’s shop.  Even more rudimentary than the house, but certainly quieter. (Not that there would be any way to stop the gossip train in this small town.)  The travelers explained their discovery, their journey, their desire to worship Messiah.  Their knowledge…almost greater than Mary and Joseph’s…certainly gave credence to their story, and the couple found themselves wanting the men to stay.  They were the first since ancient Simeon and Anna to join Mary and Joseph in their astonishment over the coming of Israel’s Redeemer.  But probably more startling than the visit, were the gifts the men left when their visit came to an end: gold—the gift for a king; frankincense—the gift for a priest; myrrh—the gift for the dead and dying.  These were not traditional “baby gifts” at all…but then nothing about this baby had been traditional.

It was no wonder none of them could sleep that night—their minds were spinning!  Gold for a king! Almost laughable in Nazareth!   Even Jesus seemed restless as Mary tried to bed him down.  Finally, heavy eyelids drooped and dreams began to swirl through busy minds.  
“Joseph!” 
 Joseph was becoming old-hat at these angelic dreams!  “Gabriel!  Good to see you!  Pull up a chair!”
  “Joseph!  The baby is in danger.  Take him and his mother to Egypt tonight!  Joseph!” 
 Joseph sat straight up in bed.  A dream?  A nightmare?  As he glanced to make sure that Mary and Jesus were safe in the bed his eyes caught Jesus’ big brown eyes.  The tiny boy seemed to be begging Joseph to believe, act in faith, obey!  It was all the push Joseph needed. 
 “Mary, get up.  The wise men were sent to warn us…Jesus is in danger.  No time to pack Mary, we have to go now.” 
 Mary, who was quickly learning, as the mother of Messiah, to improvise, threw together the baby’s needs first, then a few things for Joseph and herself.  Her eye caught the pouches, material more expensive than her entire wardrobe, filled with the precious minerals and spices.  She unbundled the clothes, dropped the pouches inside, and quickly retied the pack.  Joseph brought the donkey (not that beast again, thought Mary) and they were off.  Quietly, quickly, miraculously, the tiny family who had just created quite a stir in the neighborhood disappeared into the night not to be heard from again for years.

I can’t imagine the fear that must have swallowed the parents with each step.  Will they find us?  Who is chasing us?  Who can we trust?  If we make it to Egypt, how will we live?  How will we care for Jesus?  How will we eat?  How will we worship?  So many questions to join the list.  If I am supposed to take care of God, who is going to take care of me?

We sometimes scratch our modern heads at the gifts of the wise men as well.  We like to joke that wise women would have brought more practical gifts…a casserole at least.  I know what I would do with gold, but I would struggle to recognize, let alone utilize frankincense and myrrh.  But think about this:

.  What would gold mean to a family having to flee their hometown overnight?  What would myrrh, with its medicinal properties, mean to a family struggling with poverty and unable to secure healthcare?  What would frankincense, a holy treasure offered in the temple, mean to a family who had no access to the temple because they could not afford the proper offerings (already gave doves…a poor man’s gift). 

What seem like silly, wasteful gifts to us are actually practical, provisional gifts.  And just in time!  It’s like God was in control or something…

And what if He is?  Even in the overwhelming task of parenting the Son of God, God’s very presence brings gifts of provision.

Can we believe the same thing for our lives today?  Has God given you a vision, a mission, a purpose, a responsibility?  When we are tempted to believe that birthing God’s vision is an impossible task, first can we stop to see what provision he has made, what unexpected gifts grace our lives?

What do you have in your hand?  What has God given you? 

What does it say about our (1) faith (2) gratitude (3) ingenuity to claim “I don’t have what I need.”

As we enter conversations in 2013 about who we are, what we are to be about, and who we are to serve, let’s first pause with gratitude for the abundance of gifts that God has blessed us with.