Painful mothering

I have no clue yet where I'm going with this post.

Only an itch that began as I left church this morning. The itch that began in my heart, traveled to my head, and rested there, pushing away an afternoon snooze and other mental occupations. Hopefully, now that the itch has moved to my fingertips, some small fruit of wisdom may begin to grow.

Okay. So Jesus said that if I want to be his disciple, I must deny myself, take up my cross, and follow him. If I want to save my life, I will lose it. If I lose it for him, I will find it. People will hate me, families will be divided. A tall order to sign up for this Jesus.

As I sat there, scripture washing over me, I was excited. My soul leapt and answered yes! I want to forsake all others and follow you, Jesus. I want to radically deny my ideals and my wants and my illusions of what is important for your sake - so that yours will be magnified. But then... what... how... where...?

I have a big round pregnant belly. I have a precious, learning, questioning 3-year-old attached to me most hours of the day. I have a basket of dirty clothes calling my name and sink of dishes slowly becoming a terrarium.

I'm pretty sure I know the quick answer: "Sara, as a mother, those mundane tasks are your service. To your family and, in turn, as a disciple of Christ. Whatever you do, do ALL to the glory of God."...right? I mean, I am denying myself pleasures left and right, all day long, keeping up with a growing boy and cleaning the toilets and checking Facebook. (ha!) That's my uncomfortable life of denial of self.

Right. Of course.

And yet, somehow I'm not satisfied with that. Somehow there's an ingredient missing. Where's the radical? Where's the painful sacrifice?

** And here, I clicked 'Save' and shut the computer. Still got nothin'. **

So, next day, still pondering this. I'm realizing that the quick, first answer above is truly more full than I first thought.

Hang with me.

One man found a treasure in a field and in his joy, sold all of his belongings to buy the field. Another man, likewise, found a super valuable pearl and sold all of his belongings to buy it. Both were probably elated. Thrilled. Exuberant. HAPPY with their sacrifices because they recognized the value of the better thing.

The pain that comes in motherhood, homemaking, and pouring oneself out for another is joyful. BUT. But, but, but, but, BUT - only when the mundane has been redeemed by God himself and not me.

And here's what happens when I try to create my own martyrdom, to try to manufacture that painful mothering that shows I'm sacrificial: I become bitter. I wonder why no one's helping. I search for MY time. I look back at my day and feel pride for temporal accomplishments. I hurt others. I'm jealous. I forget about Jesus.

But when God himself, through the Holy Spirit, graciously intervenes in my day and gives me unexplainable joy in nose wipes and Play-doh for the fourth time today, therein is the miracle. There is the glimpse of joy that those men felt as they sold their belongings for the greater thing.

So, sure, motherhood discipleship to Jesus is not going to look like Peter, James, and John. Whose does? But it will look the same when it comes to Christ redeeming their mundane. He took their jobs of fishermen and made them fishers of men. And for mothers, Jesus takes our tasks of building a family and makes us builders of his kingdom.

Yes there will be real, physical pain, heartache, and death. Yes, there will be denial of self every day. People will hate me ("indoctrinating your children with god fairy tales, etc.")... even my children will hate me at some point.

But there will also be joy. Joy that doesn't come from me but is a gift of grace. Joy in repentance and forgiveness from God. Joy in sharing that truth with others.

And that is the greater thing.


(Sharing through "finding grace in the everyday," too!)