A Good Hashtag

Here’s what I love: a good hashtag.

Ahh, hashtags—clever witticisms without any spaces.  I am pretty sure that their original intent (whatever that might have been) has been grossly misconstrued, and yet, I still love a good hashtag now and then.  Apparently, I even think in hashtags because when I took this photo,

I intended to post it with the hashtag #mydaughter.  You know—because, she’s typing a paper on the computer and I’m a writer, so I’m always typing on the computer on the couch like that.  Get it?  Anyway, I guess it wasn’t THAT clever, which is why I never did post it.  That and I got busy, you know, living life instead of posting about it. 

Anyway! 

Back to the point.

I do have one this time (unlike my Friday Funday last week). 

Soooo, I was pleased about Abigail typing up her school paper like a pro (she got an A+…which I think is rather generous of the teacher…) and I felt proud to call her my daughter.

But, when she utters the word “crap,” I love to point out to Bill that she got that from him—she’s #hisdaughter at times like that.  I am also less likely to want to claim her when she does that exasperated growl when she’s asked to unload the dishwasher or take something upstairs.  Bill kindly points out that she gets that particular expression of frustration from me and I cringe in acknowledgement.  #thatsmygirl…

Or there are those times that Alexis throws a fit like a two year-old even though she’s eight.  Her temper is insane sometimes and unfortunately, she gets that from me too.  #thatsmygirl #theredhairisfromBill #Iblamehim

The thing is, we LOVE to claim our kids when they are being adorable or charming or good or smart or capable or helpful or kind or generous or quiet or friendly.  My heart soared when Abigail hit a 3-pointer in a basketball game.  The team lost, but I was so excited by how well she played.  And, yesterday morning, she had an extended bible study time out on the screened porch.  My heart smiled watching her write verses in her journal and haikus about God’s love.  #shesontherightpath

But then later—we are in public and I ask Alexis a simple question and she screams “No!” in my face and I want to melt into the floor and pretend this kid isn’t mine.    #whatkid?  #definitelyarenotmine  And those times when they are both being crazy-heads at the table in a restaurant and I am calmly trying to remind them about their manners, but they keep acting like they can’t hear me and I keep wishing I was at a different table.

#checkplease

We love being identified with our children when they are making good choices.  We are happy to call them ours at those times.  Don’t get me wrong—we always LOVE them—I mean, even when they are dirty and goofy and naughty, we still love them no matter what.  However, being identified as their parent is a whole other story. 

Amazingly, God wants to be identified with us all the time.  While we were yet exasperated parents uttering “crap” under our breath.  While we were rolling our eyes.  While we were acting like we know better.  While we were complaining.  While we were hateful.  While we were lazy. 

While

We

Were

Sinners.

Christ died for us.

Then, He made the way for us to choose to be identified with Him forever.  Buried with Christ in baptism, raised to walk in newness of life! 

We are chosen, beloved, sons and daughters of a king!  That’s our identity. 

And what about all our on-going bad choices?  After all, we are just like our children—throwing fits over traffic and customer service, ignoring what we know is right—even our occasional “3 pointers” can’t ever make up for the selfish rebellion we know we are guilty of. 

But God knew we would continue to be bad.  So, Jesus didn’t just make a way for us to be with God in eternity.  He also made a way for us to bear good fruit—it’s actually easier than you think.  The way we can bear goodfruit is to…… let Him do it.  That’s right.  We can’t be good.  But, He IS good.  So, we yield to Him moment by moment so that He can live through us.  It might be simple, but it’s not easy—so, we mess up.  We confess.  He forgives us and lifts us up.  We keep walking. 

We can be identified with Him in the truest sense.  In Him, we have been made complete.  This is deeper and far more real than Tom Cruise’s sappy line to Renee Zelwegger in the movie “Jerry McGuire.”  This is us being completed by the God of the universe.    Perfect.  Whole.    He did that.  He gets the glory. 

We love to put labels on things—mother, doctor, runner, good cook, workaholic, nice dresser, singer, writer, teacher, etc. etc.  We let those things define us.  Some of the labels are good—we wear those nametags with pride.  Others are bad—we privately stare in the mirror and see mistakes as character traits, which seem to stick with us like scars.  But these things are not our true identity, rather Jesus is the heartbeat of our new soul. 

We are #Hischild dearly loved no matter what! 

Colossians 2:9-10 

For in Him all the fullness of Deity dwells in bodily form, 10 and in Him you have been made complete, and He is the head over all rule and authority;