Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Temptation in the Form of a Giant Cookie

I learned a valuable lesson about temptation this week…from a four-year-old, no less.

My brother and sister-in-law were having a few families over for a party, and Lyla, being the little social planner she is, had a vision for the party décor that afternoon. And it did not involve the pirate ship. You see, Mom and Dad had decided to put the play ship in the basement so all the kids could play in it during the party, but Lyla didn’t think it would quite jibe with the vision she had for the basement. (She’s really four. I kid you not.)

And when that girl gets an idea in her head, you can be assured she’ll put up a Captain Hook-worthy battle to try to get her way. Sure enough, she argued with Mom and Dad, landing her promptly in her bedroom to take a rest and think about it.

When it was time to get up, she said to my brother, “Daddy, during rest time I told myself, Think, think, think! And then I decided it was a bad choice to talk back about the pirate ship.”

After my brother picked his jaw up off the floor, he and Lyla made their way downstairs to find just the right spot for the pirate ship. He was pleasantly surprised that more was sinking in to this strong-willed girl’s heart than he’d realized.

But.

The thing about four-year-olds is that they remind us, not so gently, of our humanity.

Just a few hours after my niece’s epiphanic moment, my brother noticed that the basement was just a little too quiet, so he went downstairs to check on Lyla and her two-year-old brother. He arrived just in time to see the two of them scampering down from the tall chair Lyla had dragged across the basement floor. Then he looked up on the counter and saw the evidence.

The giant chocolate chip cookie my sister-in-law had made for the party had two sets of little fingerprints smeared all over it…not to mention some undeniable lick marks. (No doubt they thought they’d get away with it since they hadn’t taken a bite, after all…)

I couldn’t help but laugh (one of the perks of being the non-parental figure), but it wasn’t long before I started pondering how much Lyla sounded like me when it comes to dealing with temptation. How is it that in one situation I can tell myself, Think, think, think and overcome a bad choice, only to cave on something else just moments later, having apparently forgotten everything I’d just learned? And who do I think I’m fooling anyway, assuming God will never notice my fingerprints smeared all over a spot I had no business being in the first place?

If the Bible is any indication, Lyla and I aren’t alone in this. The apostle Paul puts it this way:

I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. . . . And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.

—Romans 7:15-19

Thankfully there is grace the likes of Paul, who wants to do right but can’t.

There is grace for the likes of me, even as I take two steps forward and one step back.

And yes, there is grace for the likes of strong-willed toddlers. Even those of the cookie-licking variety.pirates

A Chronic Case of Bible Reading

When Daniel and I got engaged, we decided to count down to the big day by reading the psalms together—going backward from Psalm 150. We started with the final psalm 150 days before our wedding and read one each day until the morning of the ceremony, when we read Psalm 1. In the midst of all the decisions about venues and guest lists and cupcake flavors, it was a grounding ritual, a way to keep us focused on what was really important. It was a simple way for us to stay connected.

Until, that is, we hit Psalm 119.

The day we were slotted to read that psalm, Daniel had to work two jobs and we weren’t able to see each other at all. We’d decided in advance that when that happened, we’d read the verses to each other over the phone. But when I opened my Bible to Psalm 119, I was shocked to discover that unlike the psalms we’d read thus far, which ran just a few stanzas, this one went on for pages—176 verses, to be exact.

I dutifully called Daniel’s phone while he was at work, reading the psalm to him on message after message until an electronic voice told me his mailbox was full. It wasn’t until I hung up for the final time that it hit me: I’d spent the past half hour quoting Scripture, but I had no earthly clue what I’d just read.

It’s the middle of the year, and the longest days of summer are upon us. It seems like no coincidence that at the same time I’m reflecting on the midpoint of my chronological reading, I’ve also hit Psalm 119—aka the longest chapter in Scripture.

As a recovering perfectionist, I frequently find myself battling the temptation to allow my Bible reading to become merely an item to check off my to-do list, a legalistic chore to make God happy or to help me feel better about myself. That’s not the way I want it, though. I long to read from a place of grace, with the joy I’ve found in Christ dripping from every word.

I want my view of Scripture to look more the psalmist’s—lighter on duty, heavier on delight:

How I delight in your commands!
How I love them!
—Psalm 119:47

Your laws are my treasure;

they are my heart’s delight.
—Psalm 119:111

A few months ago, I made one of those eerily subliminal typos in my post about Ruth:

“I’ve been reading my Bible chronically,” I wrote.” Chronically, as in “settled or confirmed in a habit or practice, especially a bad one; hardened,” as the dictionary puts it.

Certainly, there’s something to be said for establishing good daily routines and choosing a lifestyle of healthy discipline. But I don’t want to become hardened. I don’t want to lose sight of grace in this dance of discipline and delight.

I want to find joy in his Word and then share it with other people. And I want to keep doing that as long as I can—at least until their voicemail fills up.

I’ve taken the challenge of reading the Bible chronologically this year (not to be confused with chronically) and tracing the thread of grace through it. These musings are prompted by my reading. I’d love to have you join me: One Year Bible reading plan.