Sanctuary

There are times when that fine line between irony and hypocrisy seems imperceptible.  And other times when it is uncomfortably, even painfully, clear.

It had not been a good day at our house.  Another of the days I hope our kids will forget as they grow up.  I hope that their childhood memories will be so filled with fun outings we took, funny things we said, adventures, heart-to-heart conversations, that there simply won’t be room for days like this one.  

It started with arguments between our two oldest.  One of whom tends to be heavy-handed and demanding of her younger siblings.  And the other of whom responds to that with a nonchalant, biting, sarcasm which is equally difficult to be around.  In my immediate irritation in addressing their clashes, I ended up setting the tone for the morning.

Mornings are when most of the schoolwork gets done in our house.  So the schooling time now became stressed and negative.  Every one of the kids took the opportunity to poke and jab at their siblings.  Refusing to grab a book.  Not answering when asked something.  Arguing over whose pencil it was.  Yelling at each other to be quiet.

My attitude was undoubtedly the most responsible for setting the mood.  From that initial clash I had become irritated and annoyed with the kids.  And in everything I did I managed to convey that.  I was impatient, irritated, angry, demanding.  

The morning was ruined.  And as lunchtime came, the filth from the morning flowed right over into the afternoon. That filth was most obvious shortly after lunch when we were all getting into the car to head into town.

There were arguments over who brought the baby to the car.  Arguments over who had to sit in the back. Arguments over who all brought their swim bags.  Over who had to buckle the little ones into carseats.  Over who hadn’t grabbed a jacket.  Locking each other out of the car.  Name calling. And I presided over all of this with an angry, demanding tone.

We got out on the road, and I turned on some music to drown out the fussing in the back of the car. The CD that happened to be in was one of Christian praise music.  Songs we all knew by heart.  Although if I’d been paying any attention to what CD was in I probably would have changed it.

But my mind wasn’t on the music.  I was thinking about all the running around I had to do that afternoon. As I ran through my errands in my mind, I didn’t immediately realize that the kids had stopped arguing.  In fact, the car was actually quiet, everyone staring silently out their windows.  

And a second later someone in the back started singing along with the music.

Lord, please make me a sanctuary.  Pure and holy.  Tried and true.

A few more voices joined in on a song they’ve all grown up singing.  I drove in silence, thinking about the irony of those words on a day like today.  

With thanksgiving, I’ll be a living, sanctuary, for You.

Listening to our kids singing what was really a prayer, I thought back over all of the negativity of the day.  We had all been anything but sanctuaries for God today.  There was very little purity and holiness flowing in our house that morning. Tried, definitely.  True, I’m not so sure.  We have so very much to be thankful for.  Yet, it is with irregularity that we acknowledge that.  And in all that we do, all that we had done, just this morning, there was nothing sacred or sanctified in any of us, or in our home.

The irony slipped away from me, and I began to feel the burn of hypocrisy.  I was a hypocrite.  All these things I say I believe.  When the reality of my behavior, especially toward those closest to me, is a harsh contrast.  I was a hypocrite.

Lord, please make me a sanctuary.  Pure and holy.  Tried and true.

The kids continued to sing, calmly staring out their windows.  And as I struggled once again with my own shortcomings, I started to sing, too.   Simple words.  Known by heart.  Sung hundreds of times.  But this time, it was my prayer.  My prayer for forgiveness for all I had done, and not done, this day.  My heart’s desire for what I want to be, and how I want to be.  Thanksgiving for my gracious and loving God.  And once again, my promise.  That I will try, and I will fall short.  And hopefully, I will try again.

The tears started to come, as I sat listening to the singers behind me.  I don’t know that they were thinking all the same things I was thinking.  But I know their hearts.  I know that they, too, were unhappy with how our day had gone so far.  And sorry for their contributions to it. 

As we sang the words through again the mood in our car was changed.  Transformed.  The filth and negativity from earlier in the day was gone.  And somehow we were back to normal.  Restored, I think.  To what we were intended to be.  Living sanctuaries.