hands and feet

It was my last semester of college.  I was sitting in the cafe between classes, half studying, half daydreaming.  A girl who I knew (but not well) walked in and was saying hi to a few people.  She had been really sick - in and out of the hospital, though I don't know why - and was just coming back to campus after a doctor visit.  All of a sudden, she didn't look so well.  She leaned over the nearest trash can and just started throwing up.

There weren't many people in the cafe at this point, so I jumped up and asked her what she needed.  Napkins.  I went to the counter, grabbed a handful, and got her a cup of water.  While this was happening, an older gentleman (a ministry student) stood up at his table and started loudly praying for her, that Jesus would help her and comfort her and bring healing.  And then he just stood there, watching her.

I remember looking at him and being so angry inside at the way he responded.  Do I believe in prayer? Absolutely.  Prayer is powerful.  But so is action.  Instead of offering help to this poor girl, this man made a show of his prayers and did nothing to be the hands and feet of Jesus.  Now I'm not saying that his intentions were wrong - I believe that he felt he was doing the right thing.  But to anyone watching, it looked like hypocrisy.  

I'm not writing this to pat myself on the back for helping this girl.  In fact, I found the whole experience to be very eye-opening.  There are so. many. times. that I offer to pray for someone in need but don't lift a finger to actually help them.  Maybe it would be inconvenient or uncomfortable or costly, but isn't that the type of life that Jesus calls me to? I say that I want to be used by God to make a difference, but I often waste the opportunities He provides.

I want to be better about this.  I want to be His hands and feet just as much (or more) than I am His mouth.

34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. 36 I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’

37 “Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? 39 When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

40 “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters,[f] you were doing it to me!’

-Matthew 25:34-40

“I hate all your show and pretense—

    the hypocrisy of your religious festivals and solemn assemblies.

22 I will not accept your burnt offerings and grain offerings.

    I won’t even notice all your choice peace offerings.

23 Away with your noisy hymns of praise!

    I will not listen to the music of your harps.

24 Instead, I want to see a mighty flood of justice,

    an endless river of righteous living.

Amos 5:21-24

don't let them in

I have struggled through depression ever since Evie was born.  It's not at all something I expected to come with motherhood, but I still battle it on a daily basis.  Through counseling, I have begun to recognize some of the roots of my depression - guilt, fear, judgment, anxiety.  They are the ever-present quiet voices in my mind, critiquing my every move and decision.  

You don't spend enough time playing with your daughter.  You are a distant mother.

You gave her canned soup just because it was easier for you.  That's selfish, and unhealthy.  Do you know what's in that stuff?

Everyone is staring at her throwing a tantrum in the grocery store.  You're a bad mom - control your child. 

If you take her out with you, she'll probably misbehave and cause you stress.  It's best if you just stay home.

These are the types of thoughts that constantly beat me up from the inside out.  I have never liked them, but I have always embraced them.  They are simply a part of me.  If I'm thinking them, they must be true, right? 

Wrong.

We often expect Satan to come at us with a full frontal attack.  And sometimes, he does.  But more often than not, he works in the most subtle of ways - ways that we don't even recognize.  

7 Give all your worries and cares to God, for He cares about you.

8 Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:7-8)

Satan comes to kill, steal, and destroy us in any way we will allow him.  He is the author of lies; God is the Author of Truth.  And what does God say about me?  He calls me His child, adopted into His family.  He tells me I am loved.  He tells me that I have been made blameless in His sight through Christ.  Satan brings fear and anxiety; God is a god of perfect peace.  Because I am certain that I am a loved daughter of God, I know that these thoughts are not of Him.  Since my identity is in Christ, they are not of me, either.  I need to recognize them for what they are - lies, intruders, thieves.  The enemy.  And even though there might not be much I can do to keep them from knocking at my heart's door, I certainly don't have to let them in.  When one of these critical, guilt-ridden thoughts pops into my head, I call it as it is.  You are not of God, you are not of me.  You are Guilt, and you are of the enemy.  You are not welcome here anymore.

I'll admit that it has been difficult.  Sometimes, I find myself trying to justify the thoughts - opening the door of my heart, even just a crack.  It's almost like I can feel myself having to throw my body against the door to keep them from invading.  In desperation, I find myself turning to God: I need you now.  If this is not Truth, then show me Truth.  Replace the lies - I can't hold the door much longer.

And He has been faithful.  His voice is often quiet and still, but it is there.  It will take time for me to learn to recognize it, but I know He is there with me.  I don't have to open the door to the lies any longer.

not my child

For the longest time, I refused to put Evie in the nursery room at church.  I didn't have a legitimate reason; I just wasn't ready to let go.  When we finally did, the first few times were rough.  She cried and reached for me as I walked away.  I wanted to cry too.  Now, she (usually) goes in happily and eager to play with all of the toys.  And I still want to cry.

Why is letting go so difficult? 

It almost feels silly to write this about the church nursery - a place she visits only once a week for an hour and a half.  But as a mama, it is the first of many, many times when I will have to relinquish control of my sweet baby to the world.  The first of many "letting go's."  

But I was recently reminded from a more mature, seasoned mother that Evie is not truly my child.  She is, above all else, God's child.  His precious daughter.  I have simply been given the privilege and responsibility of raising her for a short time.  That's not something that I can easily accept, to be honest. I love this little girl with my whole being.  To think that she is only mine for a time is scary and painful. And yet, I am excited to see what God does with her little life.  I simply need to learn to let go gracefully.  After all, He will never let go of her.

our God

Before I was pregnant with Everlyn, while we were still in the pit of infertility, there were many Sunday mornings when church song lyrics really affected me and I would begin crying.  There were several songs, but the one I remember most is the song "Our God" by Chris Tomlin.

And if our God is for us, 

then who could ever stop us?

And if our God is with us,

then what could stand against?

I remember thinking, "God is bigger than my infertility." Over and over. And I would cry in raw longing for what I did not have.

And then, there was life in me, growing sweetly.  And I would sing those same words with my hands on my belly and think, "Thank you. Oh, thank you. You are greater."

We sang that song tonight in church.  And once again, I had to force myself to let go of the battle.  It's a losing battle when I fight it on my own anyway.  So here I am, completely vulnerable, but trusting the hands of my God who holds me close.

through her eyes

As I've reflected on this Easter season, I have a new perspective on the way that I view the cross.  Why? Because I am a mother.

I tried to imagine Jesus' death through Mary's eyes.  

There truly are no words to explain the depth of my love for my daughter.  I love her so much it physically aches sometimes.  When I tried to put myself in Mary's place, I couldn't.  It must have been completely unbearable for her to watch her son, her baby, be so brutally and unjustly tortured.  He was beaten beyond recognition.  And then, He was hung to die the most excruciating, humiliating death.

I wonder if she ever wanted to fight, to run after Him and throw her fists at the guards, to rescue her child.  I wonder if she was physically ill watching the events unfold.

I wonder if she could really watch at all.

I have a new appreciation for the cross, and specifically, for God's sacrifice of His Son.  Becoming a parent has drastically changed how I view my relationship with God, simply because it parallels parenting in so many ways.  Only, in that relationship, I am the stubborn, disobedient, strong-willed child.  As a parent, I fail often, but it gives me hope and patience to know that God never ever gives up on me.  Instead, He loves me unconditionally.  So much, in fact, that He gave up Himself just so I could be with Him one day.

Do That

What would you do for God if you knew you could not fail? 

Photo from: http://themumukshusoul.wordpress.com/2012/06/10/sunrise-the-bliss-of-life/

Do that.