All posts by maryalice.hoover@newspring.org

My mother taught me to take promises very seriously. If she made one, she meant it and if I made one, she would hold me to it. She cautioned me over and over to be slow to make a promise. “Never make a promise you’re not sure you can keep.”

I don’t remember very many promises Mother made because she didn’t make many. I can’t remember a single “bribe” promise to get me to do something. I was taught to obey because she was my mother, not because there was some reward in it for me. Most of the promises I do remember had to do with promised discipline. Those promises usually started with “when we get home.” (Mother didn’t administer discipline in public, but that’s a subject to discuss later.)

Mother also didn’t issue empty threats, just promised consequences for ill-advised actions. When we got home, no matter how tired she was or how many other things she was having to take care of, she would set everything else aside to make sure she followed through on her promise. We would have that talk or I would get that spanking or whatever had been promised.

Why is this important? It’s important because a promise not kept is not just a failure, it’s a deception. As a parent, we need to be honest — even with our children. And our children should see honesty in us as we deal with others as well.

A person who promises a gift but doesn’t give it is like clouds and wind that bring no rain.
Proverbs 25:14

They refuse to understand, break their promises, are heartless, and have no mercy.
Romans 1:31
(Take a look at the rest of this passage to find out who “they” is referring to.)

Aren’t you glad God takes promises seriously? In fact, we can identify God as a promise-making and promise-keeping God. That’s His character. I am willing to stake my life and eternity on his promises.

Mother shaped my soul by teaching me that words matter. Promises matter. She taught me not to make them to God, my friends, my spouse or my children, to anyone, unless I can and will keep them.

I publicly proclaim bold promises. I do not whisper obscurities in some dark corner. I would not have told the people of Israel to seek me if I could not be found. I, the Lord, speak only what is true and declare only what is right.
Isaiah 45:19

‘“Soon I will die, going the way of everything on earth. Deep in your hearts you know that every promise of the Lord your God has come true. Not a single one has failed! ‘
Joshua 23:14

“God’s way is perfect. All the Lord’s promises prove true. He is a shield for all who look to him for protection.
2 Samuel 22:31

The Lord always keeps his promises; he is gracious in all he does.
Psalm 145:13b

He [Abraham] was fully convinced that God is able to do whatever he promises.
Romans 4:21

My mother was very intentional in seeing that I got to know and spend time with family — my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins. We spent time hanging out with them. Often, she told me stories about their shared experiences in life. She made sure I had conversations with them so I got to know them personally. Family was important to her and she wanted to pass that on to me.

Mother always loved taking us to the town where she grew up. She loved to point out key places, which would always remind her of people and stories that impacted her life. In much the same way, she taught me about God, day by day, in normal activities and events of life. As we visited places and people, she shared  stories of God. Who He is and what He had done and was doing in her life and mine.

“I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice. And I know that same faith continues strong in you.”
‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

19 Teach them to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.
Deuteronomy 11:19 NLT

I have fond memories of the house I grew up in. On the front of our little house was a porch. It wasn’t very large, but big enough for a two-seat glider, and the steps made good seats on a warm night. We sat out there a lot in the summer, after dark, looking at the stars and listening to all the summer sounds and somewhere in our conversations out there, Mother would talk about God. Reminding us that He made this world and everything in it that we enjoy.

My mother was innovative and tenacious. Most of the time she could fix whatever needed fixing, but some things were beyond her power.

I had some frightening episodes that landed me in the hospital when I was just a child. As I went through a lot of testing, most of the time Mother was in the room with me, but some of the time, she was required to stay outside. In cold, sterile rooms with large equipment and strangers in charge, my comfort was knowing God was still in the room and He had power to take care of me. I could cling to that — and still do — because Mother had already instilled that into my mind and heart. God is always with you. He never leaves no matter what.

Like every normal child, I found my way into mischief from time to time and also like most children I know, I did my best to avoid being found out. Mother always seemed to have some kind of inside knowledge when I was into trouble and she always reminded me that God knows and sees everything, so even if I did manage to deceive her, God would know.

She explained to me that God had made it her responsibility to teach me right from wrong, so when she held me accountable for my actions, she was actually obeying God. That also taught me that if my mom is required to obey God, I must obey him as well. In fact, she would point out that whatever the infraction, this wasn’t just between me and Mother, this was between me and God.

Mother was also very intentional in discipline. Any action requiring punishment also required conversation. It’s always a good idea for parents to take time to think carefully before discipline, but Mother took that a step further, she required me to sit and think about what I’d done and why I needed discipline and I was required to discuss this with her, to make sure it was clear. Then after the appropriate discipline was administered, there was another conversation and that was about forgiveness. I never worried that she would bring that episode up again. It was forgiven.

What a picture of God’s forgiveness. He makes it clear that we are sinners by explaining the standard of perfection a just God requires. Then, He sent His Son to to take our punishment by paying for our sins on the cross. Once we talk to Him, repenting of our sins and accepting Him as our personal Savior, we are forgiven — for eternity.

Before I ever breathed a breath or saw the light of day, my mother prayed for me. Throughout the time she was pregnant with me she prayed. Every day of my life she prayed. She prayed for me and for my spouse. She prayed that God would bless us, that God would use us for His glory.

Prayer was as normal to my mother as eating or breathing. She didn’t pray loud or with impressive speech. She prayed as a child with a need would approach a loving parent. This is how I learned to pray. Watching, listening, praying alongside.

We prayed before every meal. We prayed at night before bed. We prayed when tragedy came and we prayed when good things happened.

Several occasions are carved into my memory forever. One of those was when I was just five years old. It was a school day, so my sisters were all at school and I had gone with Mother on some errand. As we pulled into our driveway, a neighbor came running up to the car. She was clearly very upset as she wailed that the president had been shot. We went into our house and Mother and I knelt down in our living room and prayed for God’s mercy in that hour.

Mother often shared stories of her experience with prayer. As a young girl she experienced God’s answer to her prayers so, being convinced God truly listened and cared enough to answer, her faith was unshakable. Before I was born, my sister was stricken with a serious disease and near death, Mother was praying earnestly in the night when God gave her the name of a doctor to call. As soon as the sun came up the next day, she called and my sister’s treatment was changed so that she fully recovered.

Mother didn’t just pray for me. She didn’t just pray with me. She taught me to pray on my own. When the weather was severe and I tended to panic, Mother would calmly remind me to pray to the only One who could do anything about the weather. If I was worried about an illness, a test at school, piano recital, or any other challenge, she would encourage me to pray.

Over the years of ministry, we would be so excited to share with her what God was doing here at NewSpring. I remember the year we first recorded the stories of those being baptized. We took the DVD down to Texas to watch with her. I watched her weep tears of joy, seeing God changing lives for eternity. This, too, is an answer to her prayers.

During the dark days of Mark’s illness in 2010 and early 2011, my desperation drove me to pray more than I ever have in my whole life. It seemed every breath I breathed was with a prayer for God’s direction and help. And he answered. In God’s time. In God’s way. And he answered, not just with resolving our difficulties, but with using that very painful experience to bring us new relationships that have lead to more opportunities to serve Him.

Every time we see God’s hand in our lives. Every story of a life changed through this ministry, I’m reminded that God hears and answers our prayers, and my mother’s prayer — before I was born.

Not Just A Name

The most fundamental concept we develop is also the most important. As an infant, we learn to respond to our name, but our name is not our identity. If you have any siblings, you learn early that your name differentiates you from the others — until your parent is distracted and “calls roll” while looking straight at you, which seems to indicate they may have forgotten the one thing you think identifies you.

I remember in elementary school being asked what differentiates us from everyone else. After several missed guesses, the teacher explained that the one thing that makes you unique is that you are the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc. son or daughter born to your specific mother and father. From a biological vantage point, that would be true. But even as specific as our biological parents are, they do not determine our identity.

In our modern culture, it is common to express that parents “make” their children. How preposterous! Parents can only participate in the conception of a child, they can make no claim on crafting the DNA that will dictate each and every characteristic of a child or breathing the eternal breath of life into that eternal soul. We are created by God and are not a product of our parents as some would have us believe.

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”
Psalm 139:13-16

We often may think of this passage in reference to our physical bodies, but as my mother taught me, my identity is not my physical body. My soul, the essence of the person God created, is eternal and only lives in this body temporarily.

My mother’s unconditional, nurturing love demonstrated to me that I was hers, but from my earliest memories she stressed to me that I belonged to God. She would say, “You belong to God. God just loaned you to me to take care of.” Why is this so important? Who I am determines how I live my life. It sets my sense of self-value and purpose. If I discover my identity gives me privilege, my circumstances no longer rule over me.

I was intentionally created by the one who made everything, owns everything, and rules over everything. I belong to him. He is my Father.

I have spoken with so many women who were given a very false sense of identity. Many were rejected by one or both of their biological parents. They were made to believe that they were inconvenient accidents having no value or purpose. They, in effect started their lives with a sense of identity bankruptcy. Believing they had no value or purpose, they threw themselves on the trash heap of life.

In stark contrast, I have talked with women who had a loving parent or parents who instilled in them a sense of their God-given value and purpose and even though they may have had very little in the way of material possessions and in spite of distressing life circumstances, they persevered. Why? They had an identity that gave them the strength to endure hardships. An identity bigger than a name or parentage – a unique identity created by God.

Today, the prevailing formula for determining identity is strictly driven by emotions. “Be who you want to be.” Because our emotions and circumstances change from day to day, this is at best a very confusing philosophy to follow and definitely brings no sense of purpose or inner fulfillment.

Because none of us had any part in beginning our existence on this earth, we should be asking bigger questions than who do I want to be today or which of my various feelings should I submit my destiny to. First we should stand firm in the knowledge that we are an intentional creation of an all-loving God, who has a purpose for our life. With that settled, we can then ask what did God create me to experience and accomplish in this life.

This is the year in which I will turn 60. Sixty years seems like an incomprehensible period of time really. Whether you are viewing it from childhood, young adulthood or even the maturity of 40 years, sixty seems so far away. But as hard as it is to realize these years have passed, here I am!

Looking back is both a blur of endless videos and a collection of crystal clear snapshots. As I stand gazing backwards, it’s only natural to analyze the whats and whys of my life thus far and that leads me to people. People who influenced me and steered my life as I have lived it. There are a large number of people who have spoken truth into my life, a sizable group of people who, by their lives have shown me what not to do, a handful of people close to me who have given me counsel as I shared my heart, but only two have had the most impact on my life and soul, my husband and my mother. The story of my husband is for another day. This is the story of my mother’s influence on my life. What she taught me, not just words said, but her life lived.

With over 40 years of ministry experience, I have listened to so many stories of people in painful situations who are looking for answers. In many cases, much of their pain could have been avoided if they had applied wisdom but when they reached into that storehouse that should have provided guidance for them, they found it empty. No one had deposited wisdom in that account for them to draw on when needed. In fact, I have come to realize that the core foundations my mother invested in me are long forgotten in today’s world. They are not just dismissed, but mocked in the public discourse. I contend that what matters has not changed, no matter how loud the objections and I want to share with you what I learned from my mother and why it matters.

Everyone on this earth who has taken a breath was first influenced by their mother — even if they never met her, she influenced them as she carried them, as she delivered them, she gave them a part of herself that will never change. For most of us, that relationship continued and developed over the course of a lifetime. For some, the story is not a happy one, but for many of us, our mothers molded and shaped us to succeed in life, both now and for eternity. My mother, Mary Lou Current McDonald, shaped not only my life, she shaped my soul.