We’ve recently returned from a week at the beach where I was blessedly unaware of what day it was and disconnected from any other kind of link to reality so this is a little late to be considered a Mother’s Day post, but hey, moms should be celebrated every day, right? So, consider this your Mother’s-Day-according-to-Emily post.

I’ve got to tell you. Mother’s Day at the beach is the way to go. Normally, this day that’s supposed to make me feel happy and celebrated gets me into a kind of funk. I guess my expectations get a little out of control. All I want is for all my work that goes unseen and unappreciated the rest of the 364 days of the year to now feel fully seen and fully appreciated for this one day and for everyone to behave like perfect angels and spend the entire 24 hours adoring me while feeding me grapes and dark chocolate. Apparently, that’s a lot to ask for.

But at the beach? All of it seemed to not matter as much. The sink is full of dirty dishes? Oh well, not my dishes! The floor is covered in cookie crumbs? Eh, whatever it’s not my floor. Oh what, you hate your brother because he took the last Oreo? I can’t hear you; the waves are too loud! I’ll try to care when we get back to Texas.

I’m telling you, go out-of-office for Mother’s Day. 

While I was wonderfully disassociated from reality, I did manage to tune in to my church’s Mother’s Day sermon. It was a Mother’s Day/Father’s Day message I’ve heard my pastor preach before, but I know why he’s reused it. It’s a message worth repeating especially for parents. Romans 8:1

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

Paul spent the first half of Romans laying out the doctrine of the gospel. Chapter one he tells us mankind has suppressed the knowledge of God. Chapter three he tells us all have fallen short of the glory of God. Chapter four he tells us we are justified by faith and not by works. Chapter six he tells us that the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus. Romans 8 is the logical culmination of all this. There is perhaps no more heavily loaded “therefore” than this one in verse 1. This “therefore” stands as a precipice of a veritable Everest of theological truth. 

How do we know there is no condemnation? The righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law (3:21). Christ has made propitiation by his blood (3:25). Righteousness is counted to those who believe in him who was raised for our justification (4:25). Through Christ, we have peace with God (5:1), we’ve been saved from his wrath (5:9), and we’ve received reconciliation (5:11).

Therefore…there is now no condemnation. My pastor made the point that the “is” was added and the literal translation is actually more like “therefore now no condemnation.” 

Now…right now no condemnation for moms who are in Christ Jesus. No condemnation for moms who fail. No condemnation for moms who yelled at their kids this morning. No condemnation for moms who feel like they’re drowning and dream of time away. No condemnation for moms who feel like they’re never good enough. No condemnation for moms struggling with anger or discontentment or depression or anxiety. Not because they don’t deserve condemnation, but because Christ was condemned in their place.

I wonder why we struggle so much to really believe this? Why do we cling to condemnation when grace is offered? Why do we hold on to a burden that’s been carried by someone else? I suppose it just seems too easy, too free, too simple, too good to be true. No condemnation? Really? None? Not even a little? Like maybe Jesus lessened the blow of condemnation, but we still have to take like ten percent?

Perhaps, as Luther said, our thoughts of God are too human. Perhaps, our God is just too small and so is our gospel. 

A while back, I told my daughter I would paint her nails. As the only girl in a house full of ball-throwing boys, she was so excited for some girly time. So excited in fact, that she couldn’t wait for me to get everything set up. I happened upon her in my bathroom, in tears, desperately trying to scrub off what I first thought might be blood from her hands and the sink. Then I realized it wasn’t blood (thank the Lord), but red nail polish. Instead of waiting for me, she’d scaled the bathroom counter to get the nail polish and she’d broken the bottle of red nail polish. Scared I would be angry at her for her carelessness and not waiting as I’d asked, she wailed and cried, “I’m sorry!” and scrubbed pointlessly at the nail polish with water, really only making it worse.

The truth is this is something I would normally get a little mad about. I might scold her a little for not waiting for me. I might issue an irritated reprimand about the mess or the waste of nail polish. But at the sight of her tears and fear, I was moved with compassion. I issued no correction. I gently stopped her scrubbing. I told her it was okay. I pulled out the acetone she didn’t know she needed and cleaned the red stains from her hands and the sink. All was wiped away almost like it never happened. I could sense her relief…and her surprise.

Maybe that’s a good picture of what we’re all like, scrubbing pointlessly at our stains, trying to clean ourselves up before God shows up.  Maybe we’re all surprised by mercy that issues no rebuke, just gently wipes away our mess. Maybe we’re clinging to condemnation because we just don’t really believe God is who he says he is. Slow to anger. Abounding in steadfast love. Full of compassion. 

But what if we did? What if we really believed “therefore now no condemnation?” What if it’s not too good to be true? What if it’s just good and true? 

I think it might transform our motherhood. I think it might just set us free.

Let’s try to believe it today. Let’s let ourselves be surprised by mercy.

Happy (sort of) Mother’s Day.