Month: November 2019

Help From Our Faithful Father

Posted on by Chel

My days at home are filled with requests for me to meet the near-constant needs of my little ones—physical needs, emotional needs, relational needs: “Mommy, I hungry!”; “Mama, I pooped!”; “I need help, Mommy!”; “I want (fill in the blank)!”; “Mama, I sad! I cwying!”; “Wook at dis!”; “Mommy, pway with me!”; “(Crying)”. My children so naturally turn to me whenever they feel a need, and look to me to be able to help them. Because I love them, I try my best to meet their needs when they call, and respond to them again and again: wiping tearful cheeks as well as poopy bottoms, feeding and nursing, playing and reading, teaching and talking, snuggling and listening, and on and on. Each of these seemingly ordinary earthly experiences can point me to the gospel, reminding me both of the hope we have in God the Father’s faithful love for his children, and of my own neediness as his own child.

My role as a mother, loving my own boys, gives me a tiny glimpse of how God, as our heavenly Father, faithfully loves me along with all his other children. It amazes me that God loves us (1 Jn. 3:1), is always faithful (1 Cor. 1:9), sees and hears us (Gen. 16:11, 13), answers us when we call (Matt. 7:7-11; Ps. 91:15), comforts us (2 Cor. 1:4), knows our needs and cares for us (Matt. 6:8, 25-34). He delights in us bringing our needs honestly before him in prayer (Prov. 15:8; Matt. 6:5-14), disciplines us out of love (Heb. 12:3-11), and gives us what is for his glory and our good (Rom. 8:28). Our Father is “compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (Ps. 103:8), and nothing can separate us from the love he bestows upon us in Jesus (Rom. 8:38-39). Given how fiercely even I, in all my imperfections, love my boys, it is astounding to think of how much more our perfect heavenly Father loves me and all of his children.

Witnessing and responding to the constant neediness of my boys also reminds me of my own experience as God’s child. Just as my little ones are often so helpless to help themselves, and even literally cannot survive without my care, I cannot save myself or even sustain myself apart from God’s care. His common grace, shown throughout all creation even as he holds all things together in Jesus (Col. 1:15-20), sustains my physical life and breath (Job 12:10); his special salvific grace expressed in Jesus and given in an ongoing manner through the Holy Spirit sustains my spiritual life (Jn. 10:10; Gal. 5:25). Never has my own need for God’s love and strength been as evident to me as now in this season of early motherhood, when I daily feel my own weakness and neediness as I come again and again to the end of my own physical and emotional and spiritual strength, wondering how on earth I can possible respond to one more cry for help, change one more diaper, wipe one more tear, wake up one more time in the dark hours of the night to nurse, give myself to one more moment of intentional presence with my boys. And yet my children’s neediness and how they cry out to me for help, paired with my own neediness when consistently faced with my own inability, provide repeated opportunities for me to cry to my own heavenly Father for help and strength.

How thankful I am that we have a faithful heavenly Father, whose strength never fails, whose “power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9), and who “has given us everything we need for life and godliness” (2 Peter 1:3). I hope and pray that remembering how much I am loved and filled by God in Jesus through the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit will encourage me to love my own children from a place of fullness—a fullness that does not originate from me or my own abilities or efforts. I also pray that the Holy Spirit will be growing me in the habit of using the seemingly infinite number of the small daily moments of neediness in motherhood as prompts for humility, reminders to vulnerably confess and pray to my Father for help, and opportunities to worship God and trust in him and his sustaining grace. We can trust that God the Father’s faithfulness toward us gives us “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow” (as celebrated in the hymn “Great is Thy Faithfulness”), equipping us to faithfully love our own children and those around us with the love that he first showed us (1 Jn. 4:11).

May remembering God the Father’s faithfulness move us to worship, even as we look to him for help:

“Great is Thy Faithfulness”

“Great is Thy faithfulness,” O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.
 
“Great is Thy faithfulness!” “Great is Thy faithfulness!”
  Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
    “Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!


-“Great is Thy Faithfulness”

Laboring, Together

Posted on by Chel

Last month, my husband and I welcomed our second precious little baby boy into the world! And while this experience is impossible to fully capture in words, something I can say is that it has led me to marvel once again at the beauty and power of relationship, and of being present in relationship—with others, as well as ultimately with God. It also has led me to rejoice anew in the hope of the Gospel.

I had a grueling and somewhat traumatizing first labor, although thankfully both my first baby as well as I ended up being okay in the end. Yet after this experience, “horrifying” was the main word that came to mind, unbidden, whenever I thought of labor. And even though I dearly wanted to have another baby, as soon as I discovered I was pregnant for the second time, I began having nightmares about having to give birth. During my first labor, my experience of intense pain led me to panic, struggle for control, fight against the pain, and turn inward—which left me feeling alone and overwhelmed even though my husband, my doula, and my nurses were all in the room to support me. Although I was present physically, emotionally I was completely alone and checked out. As I learned from processing with my husband and doula later on, they said they too felt I was unreachable, and that they felt helpless to help me in my pain as I was turned so far inward in spite of them wanting to be with me.

As my husband and I, along with our doula, processed our first birth experience and looked toward our second, we thought a lot about what we appreciated about our first experience as well as what we hoped would be different the second time around. And the main two words we came to were “present” and “trusting”. We hoped and prayed that we could have an experience in which we were more present with one another and in our experience—rather than fearful—and more trusting of one another, our support team, in the process itself, and ultimately the LORD.

 Practically, there were certain exercises I practiced to help me work through some of the trauma and reactivity I felt regarding labor, including praying, talking with my husband and trusted friends to process various aspects of my experience, using the Gentle Birth program to practice mindfulness and breathing exercises and some hypnotherapy exercises, and journaling. But mostly preparing for a labor where I and my husband hoped we could be more present looked like me, as well as him, trying to be more intentional in our everyday lives in being vulnerable, present, and trusting in our relationships and our ensuing emotions. We tried to be intentional in these ways our relationships with each other, with family and friends, in our relationship with God, even in our relationship with ourselves. And as we prepared and invited more people into our experience, while we were still afraid at times, we also found that we were slowly but surely moving towards feeling more connected and hopeful—more present and trusting.

And when the long-anticipated day of labor finally came, my husband and I felt the LORD’s presence with us in such a special way even as we were present with one another, our doula, and the support staff at the hospital. While of course there were many moments of pain and difficulty, the pain and the difficulty felt “okay” instead of “horrifying” because I did not feel alone. When the pain came, instead of turning inward, I tried to invite others into my experience as well as to respond to their offers of reaching to me, helping me, and sitting with me in that space. My husband stayed with me, offering his steady and encouraging and comforting presence through the highs and lows, and we felt all the more connected in our love for one another for going through this special experience together. My doula stayed with me, offering her reassuring, comforting, and competent presence as she helped me continue on even when it felt so hard. The nurses and doctors stayed with me, offering encouragement and well as the ability to practically care for the well-being of me and my baby.

Staying present with my husband and with the rest of my support team, as well as staying present in my own emotional experience, felt incredibly vulnerable—it is hard to imagine a more physically and emotionally messy and vulnerable time of life than labor. I was tempted many times to slip back into my typical response of trying to take control and turn inward, and even moved toward this space at times. But I am so grateful my husband and support team stayed with me, beckoning me back even in these hard moments, and that overall by God’s grace I was able to respond to their invitations to presence. And the connection that came out of being present and trusting was so beautiful and richly rewarding, and made the experience of labor and delivery all the more profound and joyful. As my husband and doula and support team sat with me in my distress and proved able to hold my experience, they also rejoiced with me when the long-awaited moment of baby’s entry into the world came. What a sweet moment birth finally was, a moment that was all the sweeter for being shared amidst all of us that were in the room!

I am convinced that as is the case with so much of earthly life, my experience of relationship in labor is a small reflection of many aspects of the Gospel. During labor, my husband and my doula offered me unconditional love and presence, as well as the ability and willingness to hold my emotions and experience. Even when—in both an emotional as well as a literal physical sense—I was weak, and needy, and messy, and completely vulnerable, they never failed to stay with me. Instead of leaving me alone, or telling me to clean up or get it together, or to rely on my own strength, they entered into my experience and sat with me until labor was complete, I delivered my dear baby, and gradually I began to recover. I am unspeakably grateful, humbled, and filled with love as I think of the grace, love, and help my husband and doula extended to me even in this most tender of moments.

The power of relationship that I experience in labor provides me with a beautiful, tangible glimpse of the unconditional love and grace that God extends to us in Jesus by the power of his Holy Spirit: He invites us into relationship with him, through the cleansing work of Jesus on the cross and by the ongoing presence of the Holy Spirit. Though we were spiritually entangled and dirtied in our sin, helpless to save ourselves apart from him—as messy and as unloveable and needy as we could possibly be—he entered into relationship with us, cleansed us, welcomed us into new life, adopted us as his very sons and daughters (e.g., Eph. 1-2). And he continues to offer his presence to us in the person of the Holy Spirit (e.g., Jn. 14:16-17, 26-27); he is a God who is near (e.g., Phil. 4:5), who comforts us (e.g., 2 Cor. 1:3-4), who saves us (e.g., Jn. 3:16-17). Because he is with us, we can remain true and faithful until he returns (e.g., 1 Cor. 1:4, 7-9). And someday, once Jesus does return and make all things right, we will be perfectly in relationship with him, all sorrow will have passed, and we will rejoice with Jesus and with one another (e.g., Rev. 21:5, 22:1-5). We are not alone, and never will be. If, as I experienced in labor, relationship with fellow humans is so powerful and life-changing, even to the point of making the seemingly unbearable bearable, how much more profound is relationship with the one true God?

How thankful I am for presence and trust in relationships—relationship with loved ones, and ultimately relationship with the LORD.

*My husband and I are infinitely grateful for our doula, whose presence with us in labor made all the difference in the world!

My Idol of “Rightness”

Posted on by Chel

As a One on the Enneagram, I find myself constantly striving for “rightness”—in myself, in those around me, in my relationships, in my mothering, in the world. While this constant drive for improvement can leave me looking somewhat okay on the outside, recently I feel the Holy Spirit has been convicting me that my pursuit of rightness, when not redeemed, is really just an idol I’m running toward instead of truly loving Jesus and others. Pursuing rightness apart from Jesus leaves my hidden heart just as sinful as ever in spite of how I might outwardly look, in a state similar to the Pharisees whom Jesus called out for appearing righteous in spite of their inward hypocrisy and wickedness (Matt. 23:28).

In my heart, I can easily become proud, foolishly believing that I know the right or best way to be or to think, and my striving for perfection is closely linked to my propensity for doing and my tendency towards trying to control not only myself but also those around me and my environment. However, as I live in a fallen world, am myself sinful, and am also surrounded by other sinful people, I obviously constantly find myself and others falling dismally short in various areas of life. When I or others inevitably fall short of the “right” or “fair” or “perfect thing”, I often find myself inwardly struggling with feeling angry and anxious, and becoming judgmental and critical. Clearly I am not loving Jesus or others well in my heart if these are my inward responses.

My initial inclination, upon recognizing this sin in my heart, is to want to just try to do better—yet ultimately this is just another way of me trying to move more towards rightness by my own strength, and of running towards what is “right” instead of running toward Jesus. Loving Jesus and running after him will help me to continue to want to live rightly, but my heart in doing so will be different. Rather than becoming caught up in my own strivings for rightness, I want and need the Holy Spirit to continue to help me see and know and understand and experience the glory of who Jesus is, and the grace and life that he has lavished so freely upon me and all believers.

2:1 And you were dead in the trespasses and sins…4 But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, 5 even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— 6 and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, 7 so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. 8 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, 9 not a result of works, so that no one may boast. 10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

Ephesians 2:1, 4-10 (ESV)

It was far from right or fair that Jesus died me—for I could never do enough right to earn this sacrifice. Yet he chose to sacrifice himself for me, and poured grace and love upon me even though I was far from deserving. And if the Holy Spirit continues to grow my understanding the extent of his love and grace, how can my heart help but respond by being deeply humbled, unspeakably grateful, and filled with the worship and praise of Jesus? And how can my heart and my ensuing actions not be motivated increasingly by loving Jesus in response to his love, and then loving others as an overflow?

Even as I grow in resting in the grace received in Jesus, I imagine I will always care about what is right, and I hope that this passion, when redeemed, will even contribute to me faithfully accomplishing the “good works” that God has prepared for me to do. But I think I will begin to care about rightness in a different sort of way that is filled with more love and grace in my response to others rather than being motivated by a heart solely fixated on rightness itself. I pray that the Holy Spirit may continue to grow me in resting in the grace I have received from Jesus, and that from this place I may then grow in loving Jesus, my family, and others with a genuinely gracious and loving heart.