The Paradox Paper #42
Misheard lyrics, magical academia, and prayer
Hey! Happy Summer! Here’s what we’ve been up to.
A couple of years ago Trevor started something we’ve come to call “family worship.” He reads some Scripture, and as the kids ask questions he writes them down and we answer them. Sometimes we know the answer, sometime we don’t and just wonder about it together. At the end we sing a song and ask one of the kids to pray. We do it during dinner (not every dinner, just when we want to) and it probably takes ten or fifteen minutes.
When he started it I was skeptical. My family of origin didn’t do things like that regularly and I worried that it would feel forced and overly religious. Not to mention the kids were five, three, and one at the time. Even now they are only seven, five, and three. Not exactly easy ages for civilized dinner time conversations. But surprise to me, they loved it then, and they love it now, so I guess we’ll keep doing it until we don’t love it anymore.
The questions are my favorite part. One child is highly concerned with how the people in the text interact with each other. “Why did Jesus say that? That sounds mean!” Another child wants to discuss the concepts. “Does God have all the powers or are there some powers that God doesn’t have?” And the other kid mostly just plays with his food and occasionally pipes up, “Can we have ice cream?" or “It’s my turn to pray!”
My second favorite part are the songs. Trevor and I both grew up in hymn-heavy churches, and we enjoy introducing the kids to some of the hymns and Sunday School songs of our childhoods. Last time we did family worship Trevor taught them, “Be Careful Little Eyes.”
Oh be careful little eyes, what you see!
Oh be careful little eyes, what you see!
For the Father up above is looking down in love,
So be careful little eyes, what you see!
It continues with ears/hear and mouth/speak and mind/think. I have to admit, it’s not one of my favorites. Somehow, despite the use of the word “love,” I get the feeling “the Father” in the song is looking down with a hefty portion of disapproval too. I remember feeling a small twinge of fear whenever we sang it in Sunday School. But as we sang it with our children for the first time, the three year old provided a fresh perspective.
Oh be careful little eyes, what you see! Be careful little eyes, what you see! For the Father up above—
“Mom! Mama! Butt?” I ignored him, as any parent does when a young child brings up butts at the dinner table, and kept singing.
Oh be careful little ears, what you hear! Be careful little ears, what you hear! For the Father up above is—
“Mama! Butt?”
Oh be careful little mouth, what you speak! Be careful little mouth, what you speak! For the Father up above—
“Butt! Mama! Butt!”
Well now I’d had quite enough, thank you. I stopped singing, turned to my son and set a hand on his arm. “Knox, we’re singing. Stop interrupting.”
“Mom! Butt? Sing? Up a butt?”
At that moment the rest of the family had reached the chorus again, and I heard the lyrics through his three year old ears:
For the Father up a butt is looking down in love…
Train up a child, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.
Welcome to The Paradox Paper, a monthly newsletter that honors the paradox in a life with Jesus. If a friend forwarded you this email, click here to subscribe:
In this edition:
A trilogy that is not Harry Potter For Grownups, but still fun
An album for folks who grew up attending a hymns-only church
A book that has me flexing my muscles in more ways than one
A few thoughts on prayer
Song, scripture, and story for the prodigal in all of us
The Scholomance triology, by Naomi Novik
What if the villain in Harry Potter wasn’t Voldemort, but Hogwarts? Such is the Scholomance, the magical school bent on devouring it’s students, where main character El (and every other wizard child whose parents can afford it) attends. She’s surviving, largely thanks to her classmate Orion, who continues to save her life for suspicious reasons. Can she make it to graduation alive? Can she make it without killing anyone else? This series was a fun take on magical academia, topped off with casual breaking of the fourth wall, which I always enjoy.
Rejoice! (LIVE) album by Charity Gayle
Like I said, we come from hymn singing folk. We use more contemporary music in our worship sets these days, but we love the rich theology in the old songs. If you do too, you’ll love this album. It’s fresh and original, but with lots of hymn-like elements, including a stunning choir. Get your praise on!
Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? by Phillip Yancey
It’s been a while since I’ve read a book that so quickly got me into action. More on that in a moment. If I have a read-everything-they’ve-ever-written list of Christian authors, Phillip Yancey is at the top. He explores prayer by asking the same questions every devout Christian I know has asked:
Why pray if God already knows everything?
Why pray if God is sovereign and has already decided what to do?
Does prayer actually change anything?
What determines whether or not God answers?
Yancey doesn’t merely use these questions as a teaching device, setting up the question so he can smoothly provide the answer, the way I ask my son, “What’s two plus two?” He asks because he doesn’t know the answers, and invites his reader to join him on the search. I have been at turns refreshed, convicted, and emboldened as I’ve read. If prayer ever feels mysterious or cumbersome to you, I highly recommend this book. Unlike many nonfiction books like this, the audio version is engaging and easy to listen to.
Okay okay, so I’ve been reading this book about prayer, and I’ve started walking around my neighborhood to pray. It feels weird. Sometimes I burst out of the house and launch into a tirade before the door has time to close behind me. You will not believe what THESE CHILDREN YOU GAVE ME have done today! On days like that I find myself back at my culdesac with a jolt of surprise, disappointed that the route is complete before I’ve unloaded everything on my heart.
Other days I trudge out the door, sweat rolling down my back before I’ve made it to the end of my driveway. I walk two blocks before mumbling, “I don’t really know what to say.” I’m longing to sit down with a glass of ice water before I’m half way through the route, and if I pray at all it’s with a sense of begrudged duty.
And I wonder, why walk on those days? Is it hypocritical? Why not just walk when I really want to hash something out with God, and stay indoors with the air conditioning when I don’t? Why take the time and effort if I don’t feel the need?
Ironically, I first asked these questions to God while on a walk I wasn’t especially enjoying. As if in answer, the memory of a conversation Trevor and I had a few months after we got married popped into my mind.
We argued about Saturdays a lot in those days. He was always wanting to go places and do things and see people. The way I saw it, his church internship and my three part-time jobs had us going, doing, and seeing all week long. If we happened to both have a day off I just wanted to stay home and rest. Not to mention, the learning curve of marriage was sharper than I had planned for, and not falling off entirely required the types of conversations I preferred to have at home and unhurried.
One particular Saturday morning we were discussing how to spend the day, and I tried to explain my viewpoint. “Once a week, I need a full day at home together.”
“An entire day?"
“Yeah, so we can talk.”
“What would we talk about for the whole day?”
“No! I don’t need to talk for the whole day. I need to know that I can take the whole day to figure out what I need to talk about.” He was confused, and I can’t blame him.
I don’t remember what we decided to do with that Saturday. What’s stuck in my mind is the realization that more than actually talking, I needed to feel there was space to talk.
I think the same thing is happening with these prayer walks. I leave the house with no earbuds and no plan but the prayer, “If there’s anything we need to work out, I’m here.” Sometimes a lot comes up. Sometimes nothing. Either way, I’m convinced that my honesty and availability—in all their incompleteness and varying degrees of enthusiasm—make space for the Spirit to speak. I’m believing that’s enough.
My brother Jeff was living in Dallas when I turned fifteen. He flew me down for the weekend—my first solo flight. It was the first time we’d been together without our parents in a long time, and walking the streets of downtown together felt like the most grown up thing I’d ever done.
One evening over gas station tacos I asked him about the sprawling chest tattoo that peeked out of his black v neck tee shirt. A winged sun, framed by clouds shot through with rays of sunlight. He told me it was inspired by Psalm 139:7-12:
I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you.
He swept one hand across his chest. “These are the ‘wings of the morning,’ I guess.”
I would remember that conversation often through the next seven years as Jeff drifted further into doubt and depression, first renouncing his faith and eventually ending his life. He wandered far. In the wake of his death I wandered plenty too. But never—even in the darkest ocean, the deepest grave—can we wander farther than the Father’s love can chase us. Glory.
It is a true joy to write for you each month, and I always love to hear about anything you tried and loved or anything that stirred your heart. Simply reply to this email or leave a comment to let me know.
Until next time, hold the paradox, don’t panic. Love you.
-Steph
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P. S. - In 2007 our church founded an orphanage outside of Opi, Nigeria, and this October I have the opportunity to visit there for the first time! I wrote more about the orphanage and the trip here.
If you’d like to help offset the cost, you can do so at this link.
Enter the amount you would like to give and choose “Mission APOHA 2024” from the drop down menu. If you would like to give by check, make payable to Temple Baptist Church with “Stephanie Cochrane Nigeria” in the memo line.
I loved this. And You, sweet sister. Keep fighting the good fights. It is not in vain. 😘