I can't keep up with everything that needs to be done in our house. Dinner feels like a monumental task most days. There is the grocery shopping that is suddenly requiring a Herculean effort of patience: get the children loaded, marshaled through the store, and unloaded all in between the baby's feedings. The pile of laundry never seems to be washed (a newborn with severe reflux adds his own load every day, sometimes every other day if I am fortunate). Bedtime is barely controlled chaos. Visions of reading stories, imparting deep spiritual truths at bedtime to eager toddlers-these have not been in the cards for our household these past two months. Mostly I feel constantly off my target schedule and pretty close to an absolute failure as wife, mother, homemaker. When I pray, I feel the need to apologize to God for how terribly I have managed the day. What a mess I am. I am having difficulty being a mother, something most other women seem to manage easily.
It is hard to regularly speak with someone you imagine is looking down their upturned nose at you. When you believe there is a stick in their hand waiting to strike your inept wrists, you struggle to be vulnerable, even dreading entering their presence. This is how I was secretly viewing my time with the Lord. I would talk with Him, but in guarded tones, because I was more mindful of my own perceived failings than His abounding mercy and unending love.
Last week, while nursing my son, I decided to read one of my favorite blogs, one that I had only been able to skim since baby's arrival. The verse highlighted on the blog was John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. I ruminated for a bit on the words of God, imparted through scripture. And then, a few days later at Sunday morning church, the verse was quoted from the pulpit. This time followed by a question: Jesus, from the very beginning of time was with his father, God, and God knew what the plan to save humanity must entail. And Jesus was His Word. What was God saying?
What is the message God sends to me, though His Son, Jesus?
I looked down at my sleeping baby. God was speaking love. And grace. And full acceptance. No reason to be ashamed. No reason to feel self-conscious of my daily failures. God spoke His love towards me when He planned a way for me to know Him by offering His own Son up for death. I make the cross less when I believe that He would reject me because of my inadequacies. A God who sacrifices his beloved son for ME, before I can return His lavish love, is not a God who tallies the days I succumb to frantic urgency. He is not a God who keeps the record of each time I lose patience with my children, or roll my eyes at the nighttime feedings. He is not waiting to pointedly remind me of all my missteps; He is waiting for me to come close enough so that He can whisper his love to me. Staring at my new son, I realized that the tenderness with which I view my children is a shadow of the fierce love with which my Father sees me. He died for me. That is His one constant message, His Word to me. The Word that must sink into the depths of my heart if I am ever to live fullness of life. Not the fullness of life that matches my idealistic visions of what a storybook mother should be, but a completeness bestowed by the knowledge that my God, my Father, loves me in spite of all that I lack. He loves me and I only need to acknowledge and and believe that His love will fill the holes my own inadequacies create. (Jeremiah 31:3)
God is love. He sent His son to rescue us. This is His message to me, and to all of us who know that we are empty and useless without Him.
Last week, while nursing my son, I decided to read one of my favorite blogs, one that I had only been able to skim since baby's arrival. The verse highlighted on the blog was John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. I ruminated for a bit on the words of God, imparted through scripture. And then, a few days later at Sunday morning church, the verse was quoted from the pulpit. This time followed by a question: Jesus, from the very beginning of time was with his father, God, and God knew what the plan to save humanity must entail. And Jesus was His Word. What was God saying?
What is the message God sends to me, though His Son, Jesus?
I looked down at my sleeping baby. God was speaking love. And grace. And full acceptance. No reason to be ashamed. No reason to feel self-conscious of my daily failures. God spoke His love towards me when He planned a way for me to know Him by offering His own Son up for death. I make the cross less when I believe that He would reject me because of my inadequacies. A God who sacrifices his beloved son for ME, before I can return His lavish love, is not a God who tallies the days I succumb to frantic urgency. He is not a God who keeps the record of each time I lose patience with my children, or roll my eyes at the nighttime feedings. He is not waiting to pointedly remind me of all my missteps; He is waiting for me to come close enough so that He can whisper his love to me. Staring at my new son, I realized that the tenderness with which I view my children is a shadow of the fierce love with which my Father sees me. He died for me. That is His one constant message, His Word to me. The Word that must sink into the depths of my heart if I am ever to live fullness of life. Not the fullness of life that matches my idealistic visions of what a storybook mother should be, but a completeness bestowed by the knowledge that my God, my Father, loves me in spite of all that I lack. He loves me and I only need to acknowledge and and believe that His love will fill the holes my own inadequacies create. (Jeremiah 31:3)
God is love. He sent His son to rescue us. This is His message to me, and to all of us who know that we are empty and useless without Him.
