One of the most frequent questions I have in my own walk as a Christ-lover is "How?" What does it look like to love God? When I talk about encountering Jesus, what does that really mean? In practical daily terms?
I will answer this question for myself and, hopefully, you by saying, "Take a shower every day, and occasionally take a long, soaking bath."
(We might only get to the Part 1 of showering today.) :)
As fellow Mamas, I am convinced we share something: The ability to shower in 5 minutes or less. I can whip on my sweats and even put on a shred of make-up in another 5 minutes, and voila! From frumpy to fabulous in less than 10 minutes, :) But seriously, I have never been the kind of Mama that can go without showering. I just feel off. I admire those of you who can go without and not stink. There is something about the perfume of the previous day's spit-up and smeared oatmeal that is oh-so-unbecoming. So, there you have it. I stink. I am glad we got that out there.
When it comes to matters of the heart and Jesus, I need a shower each and every day (probably more like every few minutes). When I wake up, my first thought is of him. (This, by the way, does not come naturally to us. I had to ask him to remind me to first think of him.) I heard a wise woman say once that when you awaken, imagine your bed as an altar. Just lay there, and think about Jesus. And then, offer yourself, your day, your agenda, your plans, your to-do list, your chores, your children, every single objective and hope you have for the day -- to him. This is not always easy. It is what I call a first-fruit surrender... surrendering even that which we hope for or imagine for the day to him, before it even happens. What this means is that my day is God's from the moment my feet hit the floor. When my phone rings, or my doorbell rings unexpectedly, or my children seem to need to snuggle, or Playdoh would be messy, but perfect that day for curious little hands... I have to be open to that invitation from God and answer. We are not our own little bunnies anymore, Mamas; we gave that up when we gave our hearts to him. That means I need to be available and willing for what he might have planned for me at any given moment. I also have to remember that his ideas and plans are best, even though in my mind they can be, at times, super annoying. It truly seems to depend on the posture of my heart on a given day.
On most days I find it exciting, as it leaves an element of the unexpected, and it also reminds me from moment-to-moment my importance in God's gi-normous web of people and world design. It connects me to the BIG, eternal picture and my crucial role to play in God's cosmic drama. It confirms the longing in my heart to matter, to have impact, to be influential for God's kingdom purposes. It gets my mind away from a me-focused day to a Jesus-focused day. Working for the King.
When I find myself more annoyed, clearly it is a matter of the flesh rising up with selfishness. Plain and simple. Just today I threw myself a tantrum. Yes, Mamas, you read that right. Apparently, big girls have tantrums, too. And more embarrassing still, it was over poop. I mean, seriously. If you are going to have a tantrum, is poop really worth it? After today's episode, I can say a wholehearted NO. I won't gross you out with the details. I will simply say that I found Jesus during this potty tantrum today. After the incident that shall remain cloaked in mystery, I was dealing with said child and felt my blood boiling. Doesn't this little one know all I DO as a mother?! Doesn't this little one appreciate it?! My goodness, the nerve. And then, letting out one final "Uggggghhhhh!", the little one looked at me and said, "Mommy, why are you roaring like a lion?" That was it. I was toast. I started to giggle and so did the little one. Ah, Jesus. There you are. In a split-second, I saw the ridiculous-ness of my tantrum. I saw the rising up of my flesh. I saw the ugliness of my heart that wanted to be loved and appreciated and understood by... a toddler. Good heavens. It seems I've flunked kindergarten and am back to preschool.
Here's what happened next. I took a breath. Had a few minutes to myself as I laid the other little ones down for their naps. I felt the softness of Jesus as he gently reminded me of the importance to be honest with the little one's heart. When I sat down, I explained something very simple. And quite possibly one of my most humbling moments. Because, you see, this little one and me are on the same journey of learning to love Jesus and resemble him. However, it appears the blind are leading the blind today. I took another deep breath. (I do this often and envision being filled with God while exhaling the YUCK). I asked Jesus to help me talk to the precious heart he created: "Honey, it turns out we both had tantrums today. Remember how you felt earlier when you couldn't get your pajamas on? You screamed and cried and rolled around? Well, that is exactly what happened to Mommy. Mommy got sooooooo frustrated with the poopie situation, and Mommy had a tantrum. I allowed my flesh to rise up, and I should have asked Jesus to help me. Here is what I should have done, little one. I should have said, 'Oh Jesus, I am so frustrated with the poop. Please help me.' And then he would have. I know it. Mommy did not do things God's way, and I am so very sorry."
We hugged it out. Little One totally got it, I asked for forgiveness, and the words in return were amazingly, "I forgive you, Mommy. Do you know what that's called? That's called Grace, Mommy." Oh my. It appears the student is excelling beyond the teacher.
We have these exchanges often, this little one and me. Both passionate, intense, and strong-willed, we are bound to collide. I have been tempted in the past to go into shame for having blown it, or allowing Guilt to tell me how bad it was and to remind me of the growing list of failures. But that's the thing. I don't feel that today. I feel... relieved. Relieved of the pressure to reach perfection. I am absolutely nothing without him. It is a relief to know that Jesus can handle my humanity. He can handle me, just as I can handle my children with his help, as I wrote in the previous post. I am not proud of my mistakes. But every time I make one, I have this funny little feeling inside that Jesus was perhaps expecting my humanity right then so he could give me an experience of his heart. In this case -- grace. As Brennan Manning so aptly says, "God loves us as we are, and not for who we feel we should be." Amazing. I had no idea that Jesus would even use poop as a means to transform me.
I have found it helpful and quite humbling to remember that Jesus himself gave up ALL of his rights. Every single one. And it required all of him. He could've thrown the most God-sized tantrum in history, but he didn't. I read the Gospels and often think about how difficult it must have been for him to not roll his eyes at how people behaved. They asked him the most inane questions, did the most ridiculous things, were so transparent in their unholy motives. But his response, always, was one of compassion and acceptance, even when he addressed them with firmness or bold Truth. His words stung because they were disruptively honest, but his heart never rejected them. I believe each one of us Shabby Mamas all need a whole lot more of this Love in our daily life with him. Then we get to go to Target or Sam's Club and pass it on. That's what devoted, suburbanite Mamas do anyway.
There is something really endearing about how people respond when shown this Love. They cry. They laugh. They blush. It is so cute, really. It is a brush with our First Crush, the One who first loved us and held us. God must really love that part. The part when our hearts get it, and we allow a dusty corner to be filled with his Love. And then, we return to life. Into the world we go, armed with his hands and feet. It is beyond beautiful. For a split-second, we mirror Eden that was lost so long ago. Love wins. Again.
Time's up. I think someone just pooped. :)
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