Telling the Truth for Women

Jill Briscoe: If you turn your Bible to Proverbs chapter 31, we're not going to talk about the bionic Christian lady that lurks in this chapter, whom we women know very well. We're going to talk about a real-life queen because the Proverbs 31 woman never existed except in the imagination and the writings of this man. But the lady that lives in the first part of the chapter did. She was real, flesh and blood. She was a queen. She brought up a king who became a king, not an Israelite king, but an Ishmaelite king, a descendant of Ishmael, a descendant of Hagar.

This king became quite famous for his goodness and for his reign. These are the sayings of King Lemuel, an oracle his mother taught him. "Oh my son, son of my womb, oh son of my vows, don't spend your strength on women, your vigor on those who ruin kings. It's not for kings, oh Lemuel, it's not for kings to drink wine, nor for rulers to crave beer, lest they drink and forget what the law decrees and deprive all the oppressed of their rights. Give beer to those who are perishing, wine to those who are in anguish. Let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more. Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and the needy."

This is a marvelous little piece of scripture about passing on your faith to the next generation. One of my life's verses has been for many years Psalm 71:16-18: "Even when I'm old and gray, do not forsake me, oh Lord, until I have declared your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come." I believe in parenting for a lifetime. I don't believe that you raise a child until they are 18 and then they're on their own, it's up to them, and you're not responsible. That's not biblical, apart from anything else.

As we go to the Old Testament and we look at the book of Deuteronomy, for example, we see that passing on your heritage to the next generation, to the next generation, to the next generation is often spoken about. Here's a king who wanted to write a book about his mother's oracle, her burden, and her prophetic teaching word. He did it. He wrote it down while he could remember it. That's a very good thing to do because the older you get, the more you forget. My sister sent me a birthday card, and it says, "When you get older, you realize what's really important in life, if only you could remember."

This king wanted to make sure that he captured his mother's advice. Those of you that are raising teenagers, take heart. If somebody said to you, "This is just a phase—I hate that when people tell you that—and one day they will write a book about your advice," what would you say? You would say that sounds like going to the moon. Well, this king wanted to. My mother used to say you live on in your children. She had some endearing habits and wonderful words for me, even though she wasn't what we would call an evangelical Christian. She gave me all she knew about her God, and she was the best mother in the world.

Her habits were endearing. She used to lean over me and pat herself on the cheek and say, "Jill, kiss me here, kiss me here." I caught myself the other day leaning over Kendall, age 10, my granddaughter, and saying, "Kendall, kiss me here, kiss me here." Mother lives. Have you ever noticed that in your own experience with your mother or your father? Somehow they instill all sorts of things in us without us realizing it. Certainly the wise words of Stuart's mother. There isn't a day that goes by that we do not quote her. She throws a long shadow. She's been dead a long time, but I want you to know, mother, that we never forget the words and the advice.

It wasn't just spiritual words, though there were many of those, but practical living. That's what the book of Proverbs is all about. She used to say to me, "Jill, you need to learn to keep a tidier house." That was true. But I didn't know how to do that. I was brought up in privilege and other people did that for me. I really had no right marrying Stuart, poor guy. I couldn't cook, and I couldn't do anything. So my mother-in-law took it on as a personal, God-given responsibility to help me. It was wonderful, and she was the perfect housekeeper. There's no question.

She used to say, "Jill, if you'll just get hold of this: everything has a place. Now, if everything has a place, you'll get on a lot better in the house." I said, "Well, I've tried, Mom, you always say that, but I forget where it was." That didn't work. But anyway, she persevered, bless her heart. You live on in your children. I found myself telling my children that everything should have a place, everything should have a place. Kiss me here, kiss me here. And the words of wisdom that have come from the previous generations.

Some of you might be sitting there and saying, "Jill, I don't want to listen to this talk. I do not have a Christian heritage." I remember years ago growing up as a teenager, coming to Christ at the age of 18 at Cambridge and meeting people who had this heritage. They had missionaries in their background. They had famous teachers and pastors and writers, and there were generations of Christian heritage. I had this great longing because that was not altogether my heritage. Somebody said to me, "Make sure you start it. Make sure that you marry someone who has that same aim as you. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." Start one, Jill. Break the cycle. Begin. Make sure you choose right. Don't choose anyone that doesn't love Jesus with all their heart and all their soul and doesn't want to serve him and give their lives away. That's where you begin.

This woman who had as a heritage Hagar and Ishmael—you say what a shame she didn't have Sarah and Abraham, well, she did in a sense—when she looked back to her life, she saw a slave girl, a baby machine, thrown out of the tent by Abraham and Sarah to certain death with her child. When you look at her heritage and what she had as a background, she could have been very bitter about it. She wasn't. How do we know? God met her in her desert at a well. "Hagar, Hagar." "Who are you, Lord?" "I am the God who sees you. I'm the God who sees you." And she experienced for herself the God of Abraham, her master.

His job was to teach his tribe. She heard it. She had what she had, and she gave what she had. That's what you do. You don't give what you haven't; how can you? You do what you can. She did a pretty good job because apparently this young man turned out a royal person inside and out. It says in the book of Proverbs, "Listen, my son, to your father's instruction and do not forsake your mother's teaching." Both parents must pass on this heritage. Father and mother must teach and instruct both parents. There isn't a job for the man and a job for the woman that they do not share in passing on the truth and the faith of the generations before us.

In Deuteronomy 4:9, make sure you memorize this verse for parents: "Be careful, watch yourself closely. Don't forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip. Don't let them slip from your heart as long as you live." You're never done, even when you're old and gray. You pass it on and pass it on and pass it on. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.

How do we teach them? How do we instill—the word is in Deuteronomy chapter 4—how do we impress? That means leave a mark, a mark that's indelible with the pen of your parenting. How do we do that? It tells us: talk to them about it when you sit at home, when you walk along the road, when you lie down, and when you get up. There it is. Now, it doesn't mean that all we do at home if we're Christian parents is "God talk." I heard about the little girl in a Christian home and a Christian school, and the teacher was talking about squirrels. She said, "There is a little animal with a big bushy tail, and it gets little nuts. Does anybody know the name of that?" This little girl put her hand up and said, "I know the answer must be God, but I think it's a squirrel."

Too much "God talk." It doesn't mean you can't talk about a squirrel. It doesn't mean you can't be natural about it. It must come from the heart. Children are very perceptive. Have you noticed? They do not create your attitude; they reveal it. Sorry about that, but it's true. When you say, "My children are driving me up the wall," they're only revealing the impatience, the selfishness, the lack of love in some aspect. They're not creating it because a cup that's full of sweet water, when jogged, can never spill one bitter drop. It's what you're full of. Are you full of yourself, or are you full of Jesus?

The children know. How do they know? One way is by your holy habits. Do you have holy habits? Did you have holy habits? Do you notice what Deuteronomy 4 says? Don't let them slip. I honestly believe, working with families for many, many years, that Christian couples that get married with all the intentions of bringing up their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord don't deliberately turn away from God and go and serve the devil. It doesn't work like that, maybe one here and maybe one there. But when you fall away, you do it in little increments. Slip. That's the word. Don't let them slip. A little slip here, a little slip there.

We just grab a bite; we never have a family meal anymore, and we used to talk about the things of the Lord when we sat down to eat. Slip, slip, slip, slip, slip, slip. Don't let them slip. Hold yourself accountable for this incredible, priceless privilege of passing on the truth to the next generation. This young king had a father and mother. Here we read about the mother who had a burden. It's the word. "I've got a burden. Oh my son," she said, "Oh my son." Three times. There's this great parental "Oh." It's the word that's used when a dove is cooing over its chicks. It is a love coo. It's a wrenching thing.

When you have kids, parents, you know what I mean. I want to widen this to this family, too. When you are a spiritual person, a spiritual parent, when you have a Sunday school class, when you're discipling a neighbor's child, when you take a group of kids to camp and you're in their dorm, all of this applies to you. Every bit of it. This is the other family. We have two families; we have our own and we have God's family. If everybody listening to me was parenting spiritually a child or a peer, a college kid, a kid next door who has never been prayed for once in their life, you're in this talk. What an incredible thing to have a burden, to love children.

Only God can do that because we're totally selfish and all of that. The Holy Spirit scatters his love abroad in our hearts, we're told. We don't do this naturally. Naturally, we're selfish. We don't like children, actually. We're allergic to them. That's what the flesh does. If we're honest about it, they really irritate us, but we must do it because we brought them to birth and they're living in our house.

But the first thing you need to do is question your relationship with God. Do you even know him? How could you bring up a child to love God if you don't love God? How could you bring up a child to be unselfish if you are not struggling with that walk after the Spirit and not after the flesh? It's impossible. It doesn't mean that non-Christian people cannot bring up good, solid citizens, people in government who do what's right, who look after the poor, who are humanitarians, all of that. We should be doing all of that, too. But what a non-believing couple cannot give a child is Jesus. It's impossible.

The kids know it, and they watch us. You might not think they're watching, but they are. They're the little watchers. The holy habits, let me come back to this, because this is how you pass your faith down. What does the Bible mean to you? What does it mean that day after day after day, as usual, you're on your knees with your face to the rising sun, never wanting to get up again? What does that tell your children? It tells them what you think of this book, what you think of the Lord, how you cannot wait for him to speak to you, help you, challenge you, teach you, instruct you.

I was struck by a verse from Luke 22:39: "Jesus went out, as usual, to the Mount of Olives." As usual. He had a holy habit. Do we? Do I? Do you? Or has it slipped away? I had a conversation with God about that. "As usual, Lord?" "As usual." "Like regularly?" "Yes, regularly." "Like a habit?" "Habit." "Like a serious habit?" Silence. "Lord, aren't habits sort of legalistic, like rules and regulations? I thought if we were your children, we didn't need rules and regulations." "Children don't need rules, Jill?" "Well, yes, but like what? Like the rule of having a disciplined life? The rule of love is a discipline to be practiced. If you love me, keep my commandments." God said to me, "I know you can't do it as Jill. That's why I commanded you to do it."

"I command you to love each other. I know that you're not going to do it naturally. It's not a 'maybe I will and maybe I won't.' It's a command!" "Love each other," he said to the disciples. "Love, love, love. Give your life away in love. I command you to." That's a rule. "Lord, the commandments, like the usual ones?" "The usual ones, Jill." "I'm coming, Lord." "Hurry." "Yes."

A treasured moment in the dawn, when hope returns and faith is born. A time with God, communion rare, a place where he and I can share. Here he reminds me of his law, and I am overcome with awe. As usual, he and I talk long, and as I leave, I sing a song. This habit practiced regularly births strength of character in me. Such holy habits, daily done, bring blessings from his one dear son. Have you got a holy habit as usual? Jesus did. Mom, Dad, single parents, youth leaders, moms and dads who are parenting someone else's child who's never been prayed for once in their lives, you've got to have holy habits, and the children will notice.

One of my most favorite stories was when I was small and Stuart was away, and I had a drug program and Sunday school I was running and all of this, and three small children under school age. We lived in a little tiny cottage and there was no space to get away, and I didn't have help with the children. I got desperate for the "as usual" bit. In the end, I said, "Lord, I don't have a closet. You say go into the closet; there isn't even a closet in this little house." I heard him say, "Find one, find one."

I looked around and thought, "What am I doing? Where am I going to find it?" My eye lit on my playpen, so I got in and put them out. It was wonderful. Here I am, away from their sticky little fingers, just for ten saving minutes with my Bible and my cup of tea—very important. So here I am in the playpen. David and Judy, probably five and three—Pete I don't think had appeared at that point—watched me. They were rattling the bars to get at me. "Just wait, I'll come and play with you in a minute. I'm meeting with Jesus," I said. David looks. "You see Jesus, Judy? Can you? Can you?" "She's meeting with—can you see? No, I can't see Jesus."

It was my saving moment. I had no idea I was being an example of a holy habit until I visited my eldest son's church in Monomonee before he came here on staff. I'm sitting there so proudly. It's so different being the preacher's mother than being the preacher's wife. When you're ministered to by your children, you can't buy that. So I'm sitting on the front row of the little church in Monomonee, Michigan, and all the congregation are glad to see his mother's come to hear him preach.