Set Your Mind (On Things Above)
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your heart on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. (Colossians 3:1-3)
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Our home is full of our daughter. We wake to her squeals and smiles, and setting an alarm is a habit of the past. Bottles and teethers sit in our refrigerator, and the laundry basket is full of soft, pastel fabrics. I find myself taking photos of little feet, little hands, little everything.
An emotional response has attached itself to the smell of her shampoo, and making a fool of myself in order to receive a smile is lately my greatest personal goal. It is an immense joy she has brought with her, and we are blessed to remain in its wake. We are happy.
Motherhood is a calling, that is for certain. But now that I'm here, what is also certain is that being a mom is still not the sole thing I was made for. My daughter may fill my heart, my mind, and even for those nine months, my body... but she will never be able to fulfill my soul.
She is too small for me to set my whole mind upon. She can't hold me up, and she can't lift me out. She will teach me thousands of things, but she is not the One whose image I bear. Those abilities and that purpose rest solely in Christ. Always has, always will. Always must.
I can't be the ultimate mother, unless I am clinging to the ultimate Father.
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A few weeks ago, my husband was out of town and had been for a while. On that particular Saturday, I was physically worn out, had multiple writing assignments due the following week for Lifeway, and was starting to be haunted by the thought that I wasn't going to be able to get everything done.
And my little girl wanted to be held. Perpetually. All day long.
She isn't usually like that. She's usually happy, wiggly, and reasonably content. In fact, I'm the one usually looking for reasons to hold her.
It threw me. At one point in the afternoon, I couldn't satisfy her even by keeping her in my arms. She was obviously having an "off" day, and I couldn't figure out how to help her. I had tried everything I knew, and I was still coming up short... and... DEADLINES!
For half an hour she had been screaming in that heart-breaking way I'm unsure I'll ever get used to, and I entered full melt-down mode. It was a fun mother-daughter bonding moment. (Joke.) I felt scared, guilty, incompetent, sloppy, and out of options. Something needed to change.
I laid her safely down in her bassinet, closed the door most of the way, walked into our living room, and physically got down on my knees. There's something about taking that posture that helps me remember Whose I am. With my daughter screaming in the background, I sat there with my face to the floor and began praying out loud.
I stayed there until I remembered that in Christ, I am not alone and there is nothing to fear. Until I remembered that my purpose is not to be a competent mother whose baby never cries, but that my responsibility is to bring everything to God in prayer. Until I remembered that I am not a failure, but that Christ has adopted me and offered me His strength to get through the moments I feel are impossible.
The Scripture verse that came to my mind was Colossians 3:17 "And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him."
I got a holy grip. I grabbed onto the Rock that is higher than I, and tried to set my mind on things above. Although it didn't fix the moment, it fixed me. Prayer usually does. God is faithful.
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We (obviously) made it through the day, and honestly, I haven't had one like it since. Calm, cool, collected veteran moms may laugh at this story, but it was an important day for me and my walk with the Lord on this side of motherhood.
It reminded me how quickly the focus of my heart can shift, and how prone I am to wander away from my true purpose. It reminded me how quickly I can get distracted by my failures (or fear of failing), and allow the enemy to steal my joy.
It reminded me that it's not my job to try and be the ultimate mom. That's not my calling. That's not the eternal expectation that my soul is asked to rise up and seek to meet.
I don't need to try and be a good mom, as unto my daughter. I just need to do what I've always been asked to do - which is to seek God's help in tending to what's in front of me, as unto the Lord.
To set my mind on things above.
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Of course, I have a hope that my daughter sees my efforts at being a good mom, and someday tries to mimic them. I want her to like every single thing I do, and I want her to want to be like me. I want to always get it right the first time, I don't want to mess things up, and I don't want her to end up in counseling or find myself written about in a cheeky memoir someday.
But regardless of how she responds to the mother I'm trying to be, I pray she will always witness the daughter I'm trying to be... one who clings to the Father, even when I'm not sure what to do.
So that even when big tears fall from little eyes, and she has a day when she's not sure what to do, she will remember to look up... look up, sweet one!...
And she will set her mind on things above.
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