the hardest thing

Motherhood is not the hardest thing I've ever attempted, instead, it's the daily battle to overcome my own sin nature. I get so tired, like physically tired, being the safe home for a little one. It's hard to have a good attitude when I've been bit yet again, or when the meal I just cooked gets thrown on the floor. My neighbor gave me a mug that says "Raising Tiny Humans is Exhausting" and I turned that into my parenting motto. Motherhood reveals my sin nature.

But so does being a wife. Being loved by my husband shows off my selfishness. I find myself complaining to him, about him, about our son, about my job, about our house... I find myself complaining a lot. Family life has exposed my grumbliness.

I'm not sure I would have noticed this on my own. But, Beau is talking about Philippians 2 at church tomorrow and he let me proof his sermon. My heart is most convicted of my habit of complaining (the grumbliness I had written off as OK for a new mom).

Here's what it says:

"12 So then, my dear friends, just as you have always obeyed, not only in my presence but even more in my absence, continue working out your salvation with awe and reverence, 13 for the one bringing forth in you both the desire and the effort – for the sake of his good pleasure – is God. 14 Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may be blameless and pure, children of God without blemish though you live in a crooked and perverse society, in which you shine as lights in the world 16by holding on to the word of life so that on the day of Christ I will have a reason to boast that I did not run in vain nor labor in vain. 17 But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I am glad and rejoice together with all of you. 18 And in the same way you also should be glad and rejoice together with me." -Philippians 2:12-18 NET Bible

When I started writing this post a few weeks ago, it was a post about motherhood. This idea started as my personal conviction to stop writing off exhaustion as an excuse for sinful mindsets. I knew that even though it's hard to raise little ones, the harder thing is to trust God. I knew that the problem was sin (my sin, mostly) and the answer was Jesus. But, as these ideas have run up against Scripture, I realize that I was trying to brag about my spirituality in a convoluted way.

So, here's my confession laid bare:
My fear and trembling is worry for my son, for my husband, for myself. I don't use waking hours to think about, to talk about, to intentionally conisder salvation.  I spend so much time right now trying to keep our house running, trying to tie up all of our loose ends before I go back to work in September, that I haven't even been paying attention to who or what I'm obeying. I've become proud in my complaining, so much so that I don't think I look like a blameless and pure child of God to anyone at the moment. My limits of belief get in the way of obeying the word of life that is so accessible to me, as a woman in 2019 America. I feel like I am being poured out, but not like a drink offering. I feel like I'm being poured out into an 8-oz Phillips Avent bottle, only to be changed in a size 4 diaper. I'm not that shiny right now.

But by the same token, here's my hope:
I am confident this race isn't meaningless. Yeah, I'm really tired. We have too many irons in the fire, but they are good irons. As a family, we've committed to obeying God's word and committed to praying for and loving our community. Within our larger community, I'm surrounded by saints who challenge me to put my eyes back on Jesus. Yet, the greatest hope is God's very love.

Just today, I was carrying our kid back from the ferry after a long day of adventure in the city. I asked him, "Hold onto Mama," hoping that he wouldn't feel so heavy with his arms draped around my neck. He grasped his little hand around my thumb. I complained. But I carried him.

Later, after a coffee and a nap, the Holy Spirit brought that story into focus. I asked a one-year-old to hold onto me, and he did. That's often the best that I can do when God asks for my trust: I grab a thumb. My son was always held, as I am by our loving God. I'm held on days I work out salvation with fear and trembling. I'm held on days I only grumble. That's the beauty of God's love. That's why we can rejoice. We are held by love that conquers death. 

We are beloved. We are made pure and blameless by Christ's sacrifice. The hardest things fade away in this glorious love. Christ wins, always.