The hours I’ve bounced and paced with my son snuggly tucked in my arms are teaching me something. His cries are often relentless, but so are my arms around him. Tears stain both our cheeks and I wish he could rest in what is true: I love him. I find myself telling him, “you are okay. Do you know why? Because I love you. I am going to take care of you. I won’t forget about you.”
You are okay. Because I love you. Isn’t that what God tells us, His children?
Motherhood expands and deepens love to the fiercest form I have ever known. As I brim with love for my son, it has awakened my heart and mind to a deeper comprehension of what it means to be a child of God.
Our day begins in the corner of our living room. Light sprinkles through the windows onto our rug, scattered with toys. I hear a small voice, cooing and babbling, rattles and bells of objects being shaken and traded between tiny hands. I smile at him, and his delightful giggles flitter across the room. Many of my son’s wakeful hours are spent in this 4×4 area. This corner is what he knows, he has little awareness of what takes place beyond his domain. While he explores and learns, he does not comprehend the work done outside the home to earn and provide. He does not comprehend the perpetual cycle of laundry, shopping, or meal preparation that keeps him warm and fed. He is blissfully unaware of the workings around him.
I think we too often forget God’s presence in our lives, that He is working in ways we do not comprehend. His love as our Father means He won’t forget about you. But in our distress, we often forget His arms are around us. In our contentment we carry on, as if what was placed in front of us is our own doing. To be a child of God should soften our cries and lift our eyes – tear-filled as they may be – to beaming smiles of grace. In both sorrows and blessings, He is holding us with steadfast love.
My desire for my son – to ensure his future, to be with him through all stages in life – points me to the future that God promises me. These longings are only a single note arrayed in the melody of the most beautiful symphony. As children of God, Romans 8 tells us we are God’s heirs. The significance of this is breathtaking compared to what was once our destiny. We were children of a war-torn country; orphans in a land desolate and despairing. Blood saturated the ground to remind us that death was impending. Nothing was clean, not even our water. We were desperate and dirty with thirst unquenched. And then God takes us in.
The King of the Universe adopts us.
Tim Keller gives an example which helps encapsulate this astonishing truth, “The only person who dares wake up a king at 3:00 AM for a glass of water is a child. We have that kind of access.” We are not only under the reign of the good King, but we are His kids. He loves us enough to personally care for our needs, to be present no matter the hour. His water is cold and clean. And He promises one day our thirst will be forever quenched. There will be ultimate rest, satisfaction, and joy for the children of the King. He has made us His heirs, His inheritance will be ours.
This inheritance isn’t promised for just today or tomorrow, but forever. As C.S Lewis puts it, “…the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside.”* As we follow him, our paths will mirror that of Jesus, a path against the flow of culture, a path often marked by great cost. Even as our cheeks are stained from the brokenness of this fallen world, we must not forget: we are tucked in the arms of our Father, the King. We may not comprehend His workings, but we can trust His love. He promises to work all things – the wonderful and the terrible – for our good (Romans 8:28).
“…and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.”
Romans 8:17
Friends, a crown is coming. Our inheritance will be in the presence of our Father. We belong to Him and will enjoy Him forever.
Our future is certain because our Father loves us. We tinker in our 4×4 corner and know we occupy only a sliver of what God is doing for our good; his care for us is beyond what we can see and beyond what we can comprehend.
Motherhood has revealed in what my heart rests, and it is not what I thought.
I find that my world is suddenly full–full of love and meaning; full of new worries and fears; and full of laundry piles and bursting diaper pails. As I care for my son, embracing all the new tasks and responsibilities, rest seems a fantasy.
In this new world of motherhood, I can’t simply wait for the weekend or the arrival of “the next stage”. This new world strips away all imitations of rest to clearly show the reality of who was always there. I am learning to be buoyed by God and the rest He is ready to provide.
My natural inclination each morning is to begin accomplishing tasks, instead of beginning in God’s presence. I choose to worry instead of casting my anxiety on Him. I pray most for sleep, instead of a heart that will seek His strength moment by moment. The flow of my days no longer has that self-validating pattern: work hard then rest. Mothers work hard and–even if in moments of relaxing–ever anticipate their baby waking and needing. Feeling the constant pull of chores half done and a racing mind are not outworkings of a woman who knows God’s love and trusts Him completely.
I realize that my old life’s pattern of productivity, organization, and crossing off the to-do list…to be rewarded with relaxation, only gave me a facade of rest. Motherhood is work never done. Motherhood is caring for a person’s body and soul. The weight of that can not be diminished by crossing it off a list. Motherhood laughs at self-sufficiency. Motherhood has shown me that to rest, I need to remember God’s love and I need to love and trust God first.
I am learning that for my life to be one that trusts my God, I must be disciplined to remember what He has done and then surrender my days to Him. The love that pulls me to my child must only be an echo of the love that pulls me to my God. My heart quickly forgets that God is my greatest treasure. He cares about every detail – the hiccups in my days (and nights) and stressors I encounter are not a surprise to Him. When I am too tired, too emotionally depleted, and trying to care for my baby through tear-flooded eyes, he is there. All the good I want for my son pales in comparison to the good God wants for him and the good that God has already done. When I stop to think, there is nothing more beautiful, freeing, and restful than to surrender my exhaustion and anxieties to Him.
I am also learning to surrender the outcomes. Some babies cry more, sleep less, and all babies require our time and drastically change what we accomplish. Rest doesn’t come when the dishes are done, the baby is [finally] in bed or occupied enough for some sips of coffee. I am not meant to feel satisfied in the parenting wins or depressed by my feelings of parental incompetence. This great privilege of stewarding a life for God must bring us to Him.
Elisabeth Elliot wrote:
“He leads us right on, right through, right up to the threshold of Heaven. He does not say ever ‘Here it is.’ He says only “Here am I. fear not.”
We can rest today and all of our tomorrows because God is faithful to complete His work in us. We can be certain of his love because Jesus went to the cross for us. He has held nothing back and His work for us is still happening when my kitchen is messy and it’s all I can manage just to feed my baby. He isn’t limited when I climb into bed and feel like I didn’t doenough.God simply wants my obedience to love my family through the strength and rest He is ready to give.
We see evidence of God’s care for us, not only in our salvation but in details of creation. Jesus himself reminds us of his provision:
“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.” (Matthew 6:15-32, ESV).
When I am tormented by the “what-ifs” and “should-haves” for my son, I can rest. God gave His son for mine to provide a way for eternity. No matter future joys or tragedies, God is present for the details of our lives.
We rest because God is working and He loves us.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, you are of more value than many sparrows” (Luke 12:5-7).
“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.”
O come, o come, Emmanuel // And ransom captive Israel // That mourns in lonely exile here // Until the son of God appear // Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel // Shall come to thee, o Israel.
I see December nights adorned by light: they glisten in the main streets and along the rooftops of neighboring homes. I feel a collective anticipation of something greater, a striving for cheer, a realization that the world is not as it should be. Light amidst darkness sparks joy; it seems we instinctively long for darkness not to last. Even though a deep chasm lays between the purpose of celebration, the shared longing for something greater should point us to a lasting Light.
Christmas is a celebration of that light, of longing fulfilled. Jesus, the son of God appear, is the fulfillment of everything God has promised us, the climax of our history. My heart is challenged as I think of God’s people waiting through the ages, their longing for the Messiah, and the hope it infused. Through seasons of peace and those of exile, a string of hope threaded their story. As advent brings us to meditate on the world waiting for her Savior, I see the same thread in my own story. Living on this side of history, we carry an already-fulfilled promise. Friends, our Light is here: Emmanuel has come. God’s faithfulness of a baby born means that every single thing which breaks our heart will not mark us forever.
It means the death I have seen – watching my grandfather hold my grandmother during her final breaths is not their last embrace. It means holding my grandfather’s hand, so soon after she died, as he left us to join her, is not the last time I will feel his weathered, loving hands. It means the pang of sadness through my core each time I comfort strangers in death – this is not something to get used to. At this moment in history, we continue the thread – our lives are still waiting for the final restoration of the world. We have certainty – through Jesus – that he defeated death, and now we wait for his final return.
In this waiting, God continues to use you and me. As he has done throughout the ages, he works through unexpected and broken people – through our loneliness, fear, and inadequacy. We are characters in his continued redemptive story, and he is with us.
“God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, light in darkness, succor in abandonment. No evil can befall us; whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives.”
– Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I string lights and remember a baby – the life that brought all life to the world; the light in the darkness. An evergreen garland covers my door and I think of Augustine’s words that Jesus is victor because victim; his giving of himself in our place to defeat death and secure everlasting life. I am moved to give – to give freely of myself as Christ because I have received the greatest gift: being reconciled to God and the promise to reside in his presence forever – where his work in us is completed and where he ensured freedom from every sorrow. What greater reasons to rejoice?
O come, thou day-spring, come and cheer // Our spirits by Thine advent here // Disperse the gloomy clouds of night // And death’s dark shadows put to flight // Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel ~
I grew up in a home where I was a pirate and princess; running barefoot with my sisters outside in our imaginary worlds. I grew in a home of blankets and books, table work such as math and dictation. I was in a home where I learned to care for my younger sisters, where I watched my mother nurse, nurture, and change our sheets after potty or vomit accidents in the middle of the night. I learned to (mostly) land the dry ingredients into the mixer and how to arrange cookies on a pan.
Evenings were my favorite. I loved the smell of onions sautéing on the stove; of the scented candle, my mom certainly had burning. I loved that my dad was coming home. And that we would set the dinner table where we would eat and talk and learn. The rhythm and coziness to our lives seemed to me, as a child, so simple and perfect. Now as an adult – venturing on building my own home – I realized how all of those simple, beautiful tasks were purposed.
By age eight, my parent’s felt God’s call in their lives to start a church. I remember the chaos of Saturdays; alongside my mom, my sisters and I picked up, dusted, and vacuumed. After all, our bedroom became the nursery and our family room where we gathered to sing. After working his teaching job all week, my dad locked himself in his room to study and prepare to teach the word of God. The large oak desk purchased for his studies became the focal point of their room, which actually represented how the mission for our family took precedence in our lives; it was messy and chaotic, but sturdy to grow and yield a precious community and deeper love for God.
My husband and I are learning that this family-effort towards the ministry God called my family to growing up is not unique to pastors’ families. Every choice we make reflects an underlying world view; our choices show our priorities and values. How we orient our family tells the world what we think about our purpose. Are we always saving for the next vacation, working every spare moment for the sake of career advancement, or always relying on Netflix to distract from our own exhaustion? Being an expecting mother has opened many conversations on how to organize life and balance childcare, home, and work in the years ahead. I am realizing the bigger question to ask myself is not, how will we balance life logistically, but, what is the purpose of our family and my role in it. If our choices point to what we believe and hope for our family, this question is worth the pause and the pondering. As I think back to my parent’s home, they understood their vision and mission for our family, which brought clarity to their roles, and therefore their choices. Living our lives to magnify and point others to Christ is how God works in the hearts and minds of people, and is a purpose meant for each of us.
Partnership
Without ever speaking on the topic, my mom taught me the power of a wife’s role in marriage. In marriage, husband and wife exemplify aspects of both Christ and the Church. When in step, their dance of leading and following showed me how both roles are equally vital in accomplishing something greater. A complementarian understanding of scripture comes with great challenges and also misconceptions. As Kathy and Timothy Keller write in their book, The Meaning of Marriage: “The basic roles – of leader and helper – are binding, but every couple must work out how that will be expressed within their marriage” (187). God’s call in my mother’s life contains beauty that reached beyond the cheapened and ordinary label of homemaking we often see. It’s not about the fact my dad mowed the lawn and my mom did laundry or a plethora of other gender stereotypes. It is about the purpose of their family and propelling that purpose in how God created each partner to equally participate. Embracing these aspects of our position – even when it is unnatural and hard – reflects part of the character and person of God.
In obedience to Ephesians 5, I saw my mother gladly submit to my dad’s leadership; just like Christ submits to the Father. I now see the beauty in this comes from wives’ equal intelligence, strength, and worth – just like Jesus is fully God – and in that strength, willingly submits to God’s plan. Christ’s submission to God’s plan delivered the world and we can trust God’s work as we submit to His design for us. My dad taught me through his life how Biblical leadership is a sacrifice that truly requires all of yourself. Watching him live out sacrificial love for my mom and our family does not make me covet his position. Men are called to be like Christ; as Christ is the head of the Church, men are to be the head of their family. But this position is not about extra freedom. It is about being like Christ – who is responsible for making us right with God and pointing us to Him. Men have the weighty responsibility of answering for the direction of their families. They have the responsibility of being like Christ, who died to accomplish God’s plan. Husbands do lead through decisions, but as I have learned through observing my dad, his decisions don’t cater to him but to those he is called to love and lead. I also see in retrospect how his perseverance for our family is equally credited to the strength of my mom; each of them embracing the harmony of God’s design.
My mom’s successes are not measured by salary, 401k contribution, an Instagram-worthy home, or vacation destinations. I know it by the love I experienced in her home, the love and respect between her and my dad, and her actions for a continual and lasting purpose. There was no ‘her thing’ and ‘his thing’ in our home, it was together.
Parenting
Just as God has specific designs for two people in marriage, he also has equipped us uniquely for what is often the natural outflow of marriage – children. Secular outlets will tell us that our bodies provide no significant direction or evidence to our true selves.
Nancy Pearcey writes in Love Thy Body, “The biblical view of sexuality is not based on a few scattered Bible verses. It is based on a teleological worldview that encourages us to live in accord with the physical design of our bodies. By respecting the body, the biblical ethic overcomes the dichotomy separating body from person. It heals self-alienation and creates integrity and wholeness…It fits who we really are” (30).
The uniqueness inherent in my genetic makeup was of no accident or inconsequence; it is specifically part of how God calls me to relate to and participate in the care of the world. Women’s bodies are how God gives new life. This baby boy inside me is equally the makeup of me and my husband – yet I will experience him more than my husband ever will. Women know baby’s routines of kicking and tumbling; we feel the pain and stretching of baby’s growth. What our bodies touch and intake, so do theirs. Our choices directly concern people we have never seen. Our womb is our baby’s home and an avenue for oxygen and nutrition. We endure and embrace painful hips and tender breasts and easily decline our favorite foods and drinks because we know the purpose and goal: to nourish and protect our tiny human. The uniqueness of women to nourishing life does not end in utero: the incoming of milk after delivery makes it clear that babies are meant for their mothers. The task of mothering is unique, beautiful, and miraculous that God gives to women.
This embracing of a role again reflects part of Christ who meets all our needs physically, spiritually, and provides us new life. The story in John 21 displays Christ’s care for us in a simple, everyday task so beautifully. Jesus appears to the disciples as they are fishing and provides them with an unprecedented catch. When the disciples came to shore Jesus had a fire going with fish and bread ready; inviting them to a prepared breakfast. Here Jesus had just defeated death for us, providing us direct access to God, and yet he made breakfast. He is the bread of life. He is everything we need spiritually and he does not forget that God made us physical beings. His love and care for us can be shown in nourishment, which points us to Himself – who sustains us.
As much as children are meant for mothers, so they are for fathers. God’s design is equally specific to men. His presence filling our home was marked by teamwork, by my mom’s joyful devotion to give my dad the capacity and freedom after exhausting days to embrace us as she did. I am thankful he gently covered my small hands with his much larger ones and taught me how to pray; he sat across from us at the table, and while we buttered bread he asked us about who we were, through simple questions touching on what we loved at the moment, what we remembered from our day, and the most pressing issues in our hearts. Our conversations, bits and pieces here and there were the foundation for my worldview, the bones of my faith, where I saw what he believed in the mundane everyday.
I hear the road hum during drives, where he guided my faith while I questioned and doubted. I can still see the pile of used tissues as he wisely talked me through agonizing conflicts. How blessed I am to have a father who has shown me the detailed care for my life – each giving of himself in little moments a tiny piece of our heavenly Father’s own love and care for his creation.
Prayer
As I write, now 20-something years old, I still hear my mother’s narration of history, science, and novels. I feel her stroke my hair late at night as she listens to my swirling thoughts and counsels my heart and mind. Her parenting didn’t end with potty training and it didn’t start mattering when I could critically think; it has been present in every step of my life. I see my parent’s partnership, their work, and know its treasure: It is what God has used to shape me and stir my heart with hopes for my own family.
Lord, let us dance harmoniously as wife and husband as we expand our roles to mother and father. Grant us the grace to faithfully steward our son’s life. Help me not forget a mother’s influence to nourish and counsel, to foster creativity and learning, to treasure your word, to make a home. Let home be a cherished space where my husband can lead in our lives and father our son to love you. Remind my heart that my success is not measured monetarily – it is found in working, helping, loving, and obeying you in a work that has a continual and lasting purpose.
In one distinct childhood memory, my father strings white icicle lights around the roof of our home. I still feel the cold air cooling in obedience to dusk. I remember the shimmer against a blanket of darkness that sent a shiver of wonder and joy through me.
As an adult, my home is adorned with lights still shimmering in the darkness, I return to that childhood joy again. Even in secular society, lights glisten through main streets and homes. No matter our beliefs, people are stirred by the contrast of light amidst the darkness. The God who fashioned the most intricate, imaginative, and rousing landscapes made us to enjoy and create beauty.
As Christians, the stringing of lights carries much more meaning than simply beauty or childlike wonder. We are reminded with every string of lights that Christ is the Light in darkness. He is our Light on the darkest of days.
As we prepare for Christmas, we are remembering the world that waited for her savior. We dedicate this time to reflect and celebrate God fulfilling His promise of a Messiah. But this looking back should also propel us forward. We carry the already-fulfilled promises as reminders that our whole lives are still waiting for the final restoration of the world. Our lives are in dedication to Him in anticipation of the ultimate promise: that we will reside in His presence forever – where His work in us is completed and where He ensured freedom from every sorrow.
During Advent, we renew our minds with the prophecies of the Old Testament. We see God working in the most unexpected and broken people. This should give us great joy and unshakable hope. We should realize that we – in our broken, mundane lives – are part of God’s continued redemptive story.
Our celebration and traditions should be used in such a way that our hearts are stirred and minds renewed. In a whirl of “holiday” excitement, we must choose to orient our homes to that which only magnifies Jesus. This takes disciplined intentionality. Our traditions – lights, evergreen trees, gifts – should not be driven by a secular season, but to celebrate and reveal the Messiah. He is the light of the world. He is everlasting and does not change like the seasons. Out of receiving the greatest gift of Jesus taking our place in judgment we give and love others freely.
Our traditions – lights, evergreen trees, gifts – should not be driven by a secular season, but to celebrate and reveal the Messiah.
This December, slow down. Let your eyes gaze upon the lights and remember our true Light. Ask how a tree illuminates Jesus. Give from an overflowing of gratitude and joy for Christ’s grace on us. Our decor, actions, meditations, and speech, can point family, friends, and neighbors to Christ’s character, accomplished promises and those promises we still anticipate.
In a Christmas sermon, Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, who look forward to something greater to come. For those, it is enough to wait in humble fear until the Holy One himself comes down to us, God in the child in the manger. God comes. The Lord Jesus comes. Christmas comes. Christians rejoice.”
So friends, in this joyous season mixed with lingering sorrows, remember: Christ is coming again.
Where God tears great gaps we should not try to fill them with human words. They should remain open. Our only comfort is in God of the resurrection, the father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
It is both tragic and beautiful that Grandpa lays just a door down from where Grandma breathed her last. Gathered at his bedside, we sit together. It is a great sorrow to watch earthly life ending, yet we see God’s goodness and provision for the man on his deathbed.
We are stripped of Thanksgiving tradition – an overabundance of food, warmth, and leisure. But in this I am reminded of the wealth and treasure that we have in all circumstances. We have treasure beyond comfort and material items. As children of God we are thankful because we know our loved one’s labored, apnic breaths do not threaten infinite darkness. Rather they are a journey to the end of darkness.
Jesus has conquered death. Through Him, our stories are not decided by the brokenness and sorrows of this life. Because of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, I have certainty that Grandpa will soon be freed from the curse of this world – the aging of his body and the pain of having loved ones taken from life. A stroke has confiscated his brain but it has not taken his hope.
“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 15:55-57
This affliction of saying goodbye has reminded me of our true hope for the restoration of this world. That our pain is a product of sin – death’s wrongful disruption in God’s creation. We grieve this but are reminded that Jesus paid the price so that death is not our end.
I am reminded that God’s timing is perfect. I selfishly want to keep Grandpa – to continue to have his company, wisdom, and love. But God knew his heartbreak in losing my Grandma. He knew his desire to be with her and be home in heaven. This catastrophic stroke was a stroke of God in his mercy.
As I swallow that Grandpa’s journey home is now, I wonder why he doesn’t just take him. But I am reminded that God’s timing is perfect. He has given us beautiful moments in the waiting.
I thank God that Grandpa was carried peacefully home. I thank Him for the days of waiting in a hospital room. Time to cherish family. To slow our pace. To remember that our greatest gratitude is for Jesus.
And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”
Luke 1:46-55
Father I am humbly broken – my endeavors and accomplishments are alone futile to providing purpose. Like Mary, help me rejoice that you have saved me and choose to work in unassuming people. Let me realize that my everyday disruptions or triumphs are part of your redemptive work.
It is your grace and blessing that you choose to work in distracted and busy me. Help me embrace your will.
I am a small soul in view of numerous generations. But I am not forgotten – in fact I am chosen. I am remembered and belong in your story. Just like Abraham and Mary, I am yours.
Your wandering, broken people are safe and purpose because you are merciful and faithful.
Thank you for Mary. For using ordinary people for your miraculous and world-shaking intervention.
Thank you for showing me that you use your people over and over throughout history for your purposes.
Thank you that we are not forsaken or forgotten.
Help me rejoice that you have saved me, and that you are saving the world.
Friendship; some of life’s greatest sorrows and greatest joys share their origin. Our relationships can be life-giving or life-taking. What I am learning is that – while wisdom and discernment are important – how we share our lives is primarily about our relationship with Christ. As we yearn to devote all thoughts and works in submission to Jesus, so we must submit our friendships.
1 Corinthians 12 discusses the body of Christ, and how each individual is invaluable and purposed by God. Verses 24-27 states: “But God has so composed the body giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” Hebrews 10 exhorts us to meet together: “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”
God calls us to live life in community. Community is more than just spending time together at church or having dinner, it requires that we share our joys, excitement, and dreams. We share our shame, torments, laments, and grief. We are meant to praise God in our triumphs, and cry out to God in our despair…together. God calls us to be His hands and feet and – through His strength – love sacrificially.
Obedience to this is not without struggle. We will share our vulnerabilities, our doubts, and fears and those claiming Christ may condemn and shame us. Friends may fail to help carry our burdens, or heap new ones on us. Some wounds will be so deep they can inform our perceptions, making new friendships marked by hesitancy, fearing that we cannot fully trust. This is a great struggle in my heart, as I have been wounded by those I looked up to and confided in. I have witnessed beloved friends betrayed and suffer false accusations and spiteful gossip. These patterns of betrayal and bitterness often end unresolved – the hurter refusing to reconcile, leaving the hurting deserted to deal with the aftermath. How can vulnerability be worth it?
But friends, Jesus did not hold back. He gave everything for you and me – even when friends denied and betrayed him. Past hurts should not be the measure of our obedience to share our lives with others. It is because of Christ’s love, His faithfulness, and His sacrifice that we can cast our burdens on one another, we can be vulnerable because we trust Him. God chooses to work in our broken lives and through our brokenness. Christian community is not characterized by a lack of hardship or hurt, but by a people who remember the grace and forgiveness they have been given and trust God as they extend that grace to love and forgive each other. We must not close ourselves to God’s design for us out of fear and cynicism. When friends fail us, we can turn to him who will hold us and sustain us.
Past hurts should not be the measure of our obedience to share our lives with others. It is because of Christ’s love, His faithfulness, and His sacrifice that we can cast our burdens on one another, we can be vulnerable because we trust Him.
Obedience to this is not without joy. God’s blessings and provisions of marriage, births, employment, and healing bring delight and celebration. Rich friendships bless us with wisdom, insight, and accountability. They encourage our hearts and point us to Christ. Others’ insights to art, history, and science allow us to see the nuances, beauty, and meaning in God’s creation. Studying his word together, we see how God speaks to all people in all circumstances. He has made us different so together we might see the perfect, creative, and expansive facets of his design.
Let us sit together in sadness, hold each other through anxiety, faithfully pray, encourage, challenge and speak truth. Let us persevere to know each other well, that we might share the joys of God’s provisions and see Christ more clearly. We are known by God and still loved. And we can trust God as we share our lives with each other.
Reflections of Terror and Beauty 