Tag: womanhood

You are a Good Mom

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I have lately been dreaming of a time to come. You see, I have had a toddler for basically the last eleven years of my life. As soon as one graduated from toddler-hood, there was always another to take its place. Yet, now, here I am, nearly at the end of my toddler line, and while, the end of every season comes with its sorrows, I am mostly welcoming it with excitement. Soon, everyone will be potty-trained. Soon, everyone will be able to wipe their own rear ends and get their own shoes on and buckle their own seat belts. Soon…

That’s what I was dreaming about recently when we took our family to a baseball game. That sounds simple enough, right? “Here are some seats, children, and look, there is a baseball game. You sit in the seat and watch the baseball game.” Yes, that sounds straightforward, you’re thinking, but there is nothing straightforward about a seat when you have a two-year-old. To a two-year-old, a chair is a loose suggestion, a nice idea, an abstract thought. And sit and watch something? Why would one do that when one can run around and endanger one’s life?

And so, I found myself chasing a two-year-old around a ball park, looking under chairs for the ball he’d possessed for two whole minutes, but had become completely essential to his happiness, attempting to quell cries and arguments while oft glancing apologetically at the people behind us who, no doubt, were ruing the day they had purchased these particular seats.

It may come as no surprise then that we left the game early. As I was trudging up the stairs, rambunctious toddler in tow, more than a little discouraged that it is so hard for us to do literally anything in public without being a spectacle, an older man we passed said to me, “You’re a good mom.” I smiled and began to thank him and he said again, “I was watching you. You’re good.” His words struck me and in the weeks since, have repeated in my mind a few times. “I was watching you. You’re good.”

Most of motherhood is unseen. No one sees you nurse your baby in the middle of the night. No one sees you make lunch for 183478th time. No one sees you clean the pee off the floor or labor through your son’s Pre-Algebra homework at 9 pm when you’re supposed to be cosseted in bed watching Gilmore Girls.

How much do we long to feel seen and yet, also fear it? Because it’s also true that no one sees the bad stuff. Mostly, no one sees you lose your cool, raise your voice, say the thing you regret and maybe we wonder, what if they did? And maybe we feel that God is watching us, more like the people in the seats behind us than the kind man who spoke these words, watching us with an eye for faults, impatient with failures, and ready to criticize. But…what if he’s not? What if he watches us and calls us “good?”

Show me a mom who doesn’t desperately want that title. Show me a mom who doesn’t put her head on her pillow some nights and wonder, “Am I a good mom?” Why does that word, “good,” mean so much to us? And why, as I did when this man spoke these words, do we long for it and yet, also find it hard to receive?

Perhaps, the answer is simply that we’ve forgotten something very important, that we’re telling ourselves an incomplete story. We often start with the truth that we are all fallen and bad, depraved sinners and that is all true, but that is not actually where the story of the Bible starts. The story starts with goodness. God created Adam and Eve and before they had done a single thing, he pronounced them “very good,” (Genesis 1:31). They possessed a goodness that had nothing to do with what they did or did not do. They were inherently good because they were created by God, made in his image. They were good because they were his.

It is important for our theology and our anthropology that we understand that that goodness did not completely disappear after Genesis 3. Creation is fallen, but still good. The image of God in mankind is marred, but not erased and you, Mama, are broken and imperfect, but still good. Just like Adam and Eve, you possess a goodness that has nothing to do with what you’ve done, but everything to do with who you are and whose you are.

“But what of my list of failures and shortcomings?” you say. Yes, what of them? For, the story of the Bible tells us more. It starts with our inherent goodness and ends with Christ’s complete and perfect goodness which covers all who come to him in faith. Goodness is a thing we receive and not achieve, an identity we live out of and not work toward.

So, next time you’re ruminating as you fall asleep, the next time you wonder if you’ve finally been bad enough to lose the title “good mom,” remember where the story started. You are created in his image. Every day, you reflect who God is as you care for your children and your home. Every day, you display the goodness of God to your kids. God knows your frame. He remembers that you are dust. He sees your failures through the lens of love and compassion. He watches you and calls you “good.”

Surprised by Mercy

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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.

How to be the Best Mom

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Happy Mother’s Day friends. Like me, I hope you’re getting some time away with no one asking you for snacks or to wipe their butt. Unlike me, I hope you didn’t have to clean applesauce off your bedroom carpet last night…

It’s been 3 weeks since my book released and if you haven’t, I hope you’ll grab a copy. It’s a strange thing to write a book on motherhood because at least in some way, you are setting yourself up as a kind of authority on the subject. “Author” is, after all, the root of the word “authority.” I’ve questioned a lot if I’m worthy of that title…if I’m a good enough mom.

It’s a question that often swirls in my mind and I suspect in the minds of others. Am I a good mom? Am I good *enough*? Have I done just enough to fall into the category of “good” and escape the category of “bad?” The problem is that perhaps I am good enough one day, but fail miserably the next. Trying to be good enough feels like trying to climb a muddy slope, advancing 5 feet only to slide back 20 and then try, try, try again. And this is why motherhood keeps us very close to our need for the Gospel.

It shows that there is actually something quite wrong with us and not in the simple sense that we sometimes make mistakes, but something wrong at our very core. We have an unshakeable sense of an external standard and a disquieting knowledge that we have not met it. What we are is not what we “should” be. Try as we might, we can never be good enough because there is no good enough. In and of ourselves, we can never reach the top of the muddy slope.

The Gospel of grace changes the questions. While we are wondering, “good or bad,” it is asking “in or out?” The only categories it is concerned with are “dead in sin” or “alive in Christ.” And the difference between the two is not just enough grit to climb the top of the hill, but the sovereign hand of God which has picked us up and placed us there. Trying to merit grace is like climbing back down the hill to slide around in the mud some more. 

The irony is that the “good” mom, the best mom will be the one who sits atop the hill she didn’t climb and rests in the favor she didn’t earn, content to simply be “in Christ.” For In Christ, we have been renamed, not good or bad, but “mine.” In Christ, there is an abundance of mercy and grace and love for moms who have fallen short. And that…is very good news.

In other exciting news, e welcomed Shiloh Stephen 6 weeks ago. Life with 6 kids is…just about as chaotic as you would imagine…but equally as rich. I am so thankful for these gifts.

Already Warriors

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There is an idea that traditional femininity is weak and outdated, that for women to be strong, we have to be just like men. Women who tend the home, who nurse and nurture know nothing of battle.

I beg to differ.

Moses’s mother, in fierce maternal protection, defied a ruler. In the simple act of nursing her son, she nursed a rebellion against her people’s oppression. She raised up the one whom God would raise up to be their deliverer.

Mary, in simply submitting her body to shelter and grow a baby, became the mother of the Messiah, the vessel of the lion of Judah who would defeat our greatest enemy. Thus, she opened her mouth not to sing a lullaby, but to speak of casting down thrones and scattering the proud.

“The wise woman builds her house,” and she builds in quiet, but mighty subversion. She pushes back darkness with the light of love and grace. She raises the sword of truth to teach and admonish and train. She tends and nurses and nurtures, and she does so as an act of war against powers and principalities.

Who knows what seeds planted in the soil of our homes God may grow to work His will? We don’t have to spurn femininity to be strong. We must wield it. We don’t have to go far to fight. The battle is here. And we are already warriors.

What If I’m A One Talent Woman?

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In Jesus’s well-known parable in Matthew 25, a master gives talents to his servants while he goes away. To one, he gives five, to another, two, and to the last, one. The first two invest and multiply their talents, earning the praise and commendation of their master upon his return. The last servant, however, hides his talent in the dirt, earning a harsh rebuke. The talents are usually understood to represent the resources God has given us: our time, money, possessions, and abilities.

My sisters and I, all in the throes of raising young children, sometimes joke that we are one talent women. It’s usually funny to laugh about, but…what if it’s true? My adult years thus far have been riddled with many insecurities. There is in my mind, a feminine ideal, of which I fall so short. I picture her making a healthy, gourmet meal while also crocheting a sweater and teaching her rapt children a catechism. Though I know this probably doesn’t really exist, I look around and see many women who seem to embody it better than I. They have better organizational skills, administrative abilities, and domestic know-how.  They seem to have endless energy and resourcefulness and patience. I have often even felt inferior to my own husband, who is ten times the cook I am and knows more about how to remove tough stains. I laugh that he is a better woman than I, but all of this comparison has led me nowhere good. Mostly, just to self-pity.

Our Talents Are Not Our Own

Maybe I am a one talent woman. Maybe you are too. So what? None of the servants in the story did anything to earn their talents. They weren’t even their own. They were the Master’s. Feeling self-pity or shame over your one talent is as silly as another feeling pride over their five. “For who makes you different than anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive?” (1 Corinthians 4:7).

Pride has no place in the kingdom of grace nor does shame or self-pity. All that we are and all that we have is from God. It is His to give as He wishes. It is not given to make us greater or lesser, but to magnify Him and advance His purposes. Both the first two servants receive the same commendation even though they have different amounts. The last servant is rebuked not for having little, but for doing little with what he had. In the same way, if we sit and compare our one talent with another’s five talents, we are missing the point and wasting what we have been given.

Our Talents Are Not Who We Are

There are many different kinds of people in the body of Christ. Some rich and some poor. Some with brains and beauty and charisma and some without. Some with many gifts and abilities and some with only a few. Yet, all are equal citizens in the kingdom of God and all have the same fundamental identity.

Grace is the great equalizer. While the world places us all in different echelons based on money, power, beauty, the Gospel places us all in one category: condemned. It then offers us a second category: justified. The only means to this transaction is the grace of God. When we receive this grace, we receive a new identity: in Christ. This identity is given to every citizen of heaven without discrimination. It alone is what separates us from the condemned and makes us acceptable to God.

So, every Christian has the same identity, but different gifts. The gifts we are given, be they great or small, do not define who we are. When we sink into comparison or self-pity, we are forgetting this. We are forgetting that our identity is bound up, not in ourselves, not in our gifts, but in Christ.

Our Talents Are Not For Us

We are all products of grace, intended to be means of grace. Whatever we are given, for we are all given something, we are meant to use, not for our own glory, but for God’s. Not to serve ourselves, but to serve others.

The beauty of God’s kingdom is that grace is liberally and indiscriminately given to the weak and strong alike. All are lost. All are brought in. All are justified. All are given something. And all are called to take what they have been given and invest it. We are held accountable not for what we’ve been given, but what we do with it.

So, if you have a home, use it. Manage it the best you are able and make it a place where grace and love abound. If you have children, pour yourself into them. In the strength that you have, care for their daily needs and diligently feed their souls the Gospel. If you have special gifts and abilities, use them to make His name great and not your own. If you have time, money, resources, invest them in kingdom things. Take all that you have that will not last and with it, build what will.

Even if we have one talent, we are meant to take that one talent, every bit of it, and leverage it for our Master. If we have just one gift, we must steward it, develop it, wield it for the One who has given it. Whatever we have received, great or small, is meant to be used in the service of others and the ministry of His all-surpassing grace (1 Peter 4:10).