Needs
He's home.
Those two little words represent the major finish line moment of the past two months of our lives. Tim was out on tour during the bulk of February/March, but he's back now - and we are SO GLAD to have him home!
Between parenting a toddler and daily bearing the increasingly heavy blessing of burgeoning pregnancy, it's safe to say the past two months have witnessed the full range of my emotions. Glory upon glory to the Lord for taking care of us while our family was separated, and now we can settle in to enjoying these last few weeks together before welcoming our second little girl into the world... Make sure all those final little details are in order, get out all the baby gear that's been biding its time in the attic, cherish every last minute as a family of three, and pray and wait.
- - -
Sometimes my theology gets rusty, my heart gets numb, and the daily practices of my life become emptied of this simple truth: that dying to self could actually sometimes feel like death. Living a life for Christ certainly requires a total surrender... as so often does parenting, and marriage. The three most vital parts of my life - the three parts arguably most capable of bringing my days on earth the most joy and meaning - are also the most difficult that my heart and soul will ever engage.
The entire Christian life is one of being pruned, sanctified, and refined. Marriage is a daily exercise of loving another person more than yourself. Parenting demands things from me that I'm entirely inept to accomplish.And God calls all these things - and this process - good. He established them as beautiful and holy, and daily endorses and affirms my heart's desire and effort to do them well. There is reward in each of them beyond equal, fulfillment beyond measure, joy unspeakable... I know this. I often live this.
And yet, I'm shocked sometimes when the dying to self actually feels like death. I'm taken off-guard when a specific sacrifice is needed and named, and expected of me in an otherwise "normal" day. My heart stiffens in defiance against the audacity of the Holy Spirit's untimely suggestions... Follow me. Take up the Cross of this moment, and love the way I loved. Give grace. Extend mercy. Offer that last piece you were storing up for later. Let them have your cloak, too.
- - -
The past couple months, I got a tremendous amount of one-on-one time with my daughter. We had a lot of fun, because she's hilarious and sweet and I love being her mommy - but I also had to die a lot more than I'm used to. All those huge needs that a toddler expresses with flourish and abandon were laid at my feet, without reprieve or interception, to be sorted and sifted and (if possible) fulfilled. Add to those moments a sense of loss from missing my husband, and the magnitude of third-trimester emotions at play... I had my moments of feeling entirely overwhelmed. It was fact, not fiction - and I needed the Lord. Not in some vague sense, but specifically - for that moment and whatever was going on.
And in those moments when I would be looking at my daughter's face, trying to decide a course of action from one minute into the next, I would hear that Voice, sense that Presence... and Christ would bid me come and die. Right there in the kitchen or the living room, feeling often worn out and scared of messing something up, it would just for a split second become clear - the options before me, the places they would lead. The way forward.
Love always finds a way, it is true - and how often, the way it finds is a dying to self.
- - -
Tim is back home, and we're trying to prepare our home for another baby. How do we do that? We're trying to love each other well and prioritize each other's needs... but how do we do this? I'm trying to make sure our daughter's transition into the "big sister" role is as smooth as possible, but I have ultimately no clue how to do that. How does a family go from 3 to 4? I'm sure there are books on the subject but I don't have time to read them... because our family is about to go from 3 to 4.
I don't know all the right ways to handle things, I'm often dizzy from the perpetual learning curve of this entire season of life, and all I really want right this second is a whole bag of Doritos, a back rub, and for my soon-to-arrive baby girl to make it here safely.
But Christ's call remains unchanged. The circumstances may change shape and form, but the call is always the same... come and die. Love with not all we have, but rather all that He has given us and made possible to us through His own love. Because none of us can meet all the needs. None of us are capable of loving perfectly, unconditionally, unselfishly. But Christ can... and He does, and He is.
So when the dying to self actually begins to feel a little bit like dying, it's important for me to remember that the powerful, unsurpassed life and mystery of the resurrection also tends to live up to its name. And it's when the needs pile higher and extend deeper than I can reach that the resurrection power of Christ often shows its fullest strength in my life... and He takes the small moments of my life and turns them into something glorious and eternal.
And that is an awesome thing to behold. That is worthy of an offering. Because He can meet all the needs, even when I can't... and He did.
And He does.
Those two little words represent the major finish line moment of the past two months of our lives. Tim was out on tour during the bulk of February/March, but he's back now - and we are SO GLAD to have him home!
Between parenting a toddler and daily bearing the increasingly heavy blessing of burgeoning pregnancy, it's safe to say the past two months have witnessed the full range of my emotions. Glory upon glory to the Lord for taking care of us while our family was separated, and now we can settle in to enjoying these last few weeks together before welcoming our second little girl into the world... Make sure all those final little details are in order, get out all the baby gear that's been biding its time in the attic, cherish every last minute as a family of three, and pray and wait.
- - -
Sometimes my theology gets rusty, my heart gets numb, and the daily practices of my life become emptied of this simple truth: that dying to self could actually sometimes feel like death. Living a life for Christ certainly requires a total surrender... as so often does parenting, and marriage. The three most vital parts of my life - the three parts arguably most capable of bringing my days on earth the most joy and meaning - are also the most difficult that my heart and soul will ever engage.
The entire Christian life is one of being pruned, sanctified, and refined. Marriage is a daily exercise of loving another person more than yourself. Parenting demands things from me that I'm entirely inept to accomplish.And God calls all these things - and this process - good. He established them as beautiful and holy, and daily endorses and affirms my heart's desire and effort to do them well. There is reward in each of them beyond equal, fulfillment beyond measure, joy unspeakable... I know this. I often live this.
And yet, I'm shocked sometimes when the dying to self actually feels like death. I'm taken off-guard when a specific sacrifice is needed and named, and expected of me in an otherwise "normal" day. My heart stiffens in defiance against the audacity of the Holy Spirit's untimely suggestions... Follow me. Take up the Cross of this moment, and love the way I loved. Give grace. Extend mercy. Offer that last piece you were storing up for later. Let them have your cloak, too.
- - -
The past couple months, I got a tremendous amount of one-on-one time with my daughter. We had a lot of fun, because she's hilarious and sweet and I love being her mommy - but I also had to die a lot more than I'm used to. All those huge needs that a toddler expresses with flourish and abandon were laid at my feet, without reprieve or interception, to be sorted and sifted and (if possible) fulfilled. Add to those moments a sense of loss from missing my husband, and the magnitude of third-trimester emotions at play... I had my moments of feeling entirely overwhelmed. It was fact, not fiction - and I needed the Lord. Not in some vague sense, but specifically - for that moment and whatever was going on.
And in those moments when I would be looking at my daughter's face, trying to decide a course of action from one minute into the next, I would hear that Voice, sense that Presence... and Christ would bid me come and die. Right there in the kitchen or the living room, feeling often worn out and scared of messing something up, it would just for a split second become clear - the options before me, the places they would lead. The way forward.
Love always finds a way, it is true - and how often, the way it finds is a dying to self.
- - -
Tim is back home, and we're trying to prepare our home for another baby. How do we do that? We're trying to love each other well and prioritize each other's needs... but how do we do this? I'm trying to make sure our daughter's transition into the "big sister" role is as smooth as possible, but I have ultimately no clue how to do that. How does a family go from 3 to 4? I'm sure there are books on the subject but I don't have time to read them... because our family is about to go from 3 to 4.
I don't know all the right ways to handle things, I'm often dizzy from the perpetual learning curve of this entire season of life, and all I really want right this second is a whole bag of Doritos, a back rub, and for my soon-to-arrive baby girl to make it here safely.
But Christ's call remains unchanged. The circumstances may change shape and form, but the call is always the same... come and die. Love with not all we have, but rather all that He has given us and made possible to us through His own love. Because none of us can meet all the needs. None of us are capable of loving perfectly, unconditionally, unselfishly. But Christ can... and He does, and He is.
So when the dying to self actually begins to feel a little bit like dying, it's important for me to remember that the powerful, unsurpassed life and mystery of the resurrection also tends to live up to its name. And it's when the needs pile higher and extend deeper than I can reach that the resurrection power of Christ often shows its fullest strength in my life... and He takes the small moments of my life and turns them into something glorious and eternal.
And that is an awesome thing to behold. That is worthy of an offering. Because He can meet all the needs, even when I can't... and He did.
And He does.
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