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All in Following God
“Lord, help me love my children as you love them.”
This is a prayer I’ve been praying since I became a mother eleven years ago.
But honestly, it wasn’t until just a few years ago that I actually began wrestling with what it would actually look like for me to really love my children as Christ has first loved them.
And what God slowly began to show me is that my ability to love my children as Jesus loves them is profoundly influenced by my own understanding and acceptance of how Jesus loves me!
It was a weekend of no sleep and me alone with the three kids, our youngest going through a three-month growth spurt and the older two deciding they were going to learn how to talk back.
It was a weekend of me begging God every step of the hour to help me be a 1 Corinthians 13 kind of mama when all I wanted to do was have a long soak in the bath. It was a weekend of me telling the boys I needed a few minutes in the office alone, to fall on the carpet and weep.
In a recent interview, Sally Lloyd Jones, author of the Jesus Storybook Bible, offered such simple but profound advice on giving hope to children.
Here is a just a portion of what she said:
Children look to us for everything. But in all that we’ve given children, have we forgotten to give them hope? Have we left them in despair -- looking at what they should do but don't? Looking at who they should be but aren’t? How do we give hope to children? When we take the focus off them and put it back on God where it belongs. They don’t need to be told to try harder, believe more, do it better. That just leaves them in despair. We need a Rescuer.
As we gathered around tables set with gold, blue, and green chargers topped with china; iced water poured into crystal, flowers brimming over vases, we also noticed several lovely, mismatched little pitchers scattered amongst the setting. Some were plain creamware, others cut-glass, some painted with dainty flowers, others edged in gold. Joining us at the table set in her kitchen area, Sally Clarkson picked one up and reflected, “We wanted you to take with you a reminder of your need to be filled, as you constantly pour out to your families at home.”
I remember the sweet lady that brought me comfort food in the quiet hours of my second miscarriage. I told her how I wanted to trust God with a new pregnancy but I felt like I might set myself up for failure. I felt safe with her. She knew my pain well and I didn't worry about her judging me. She placed the chocolate cake on the counter and said with a soft and honest voice, "Your pregnancies will never be the same once you've gone through a miscarriage." I knew she was right and I appreciated her honesty. It was comforting to know that my struggle was a common one. I wouldn't walk this journey alone. I didn't have to feel ashamed, but I could walk alongside others.
I can see it so clearly in my oldest daughter—that constant yearning and wanting and always needing something more. No sooner does she get what she wants than she is on to the next thing, constantly pining for something else that is just out of reach. Sometimes it feels like she is incapable of just enjoying the moment she is in, of appreciating what she has instead of worrying about what she is missing out on. Her insatiable need for more scares me sometimes.
And yet.
