Wait... that's not Mama!

We were at a Vietnamese restaurant grabbing a quick lunch the other day, and playing swordfighting with chopsticks. My little one was pealing with delight, but then his attention shifted to the other patrons walking through the door. Every woman who walked in, he was calling out to, "Mama!" I was taken aback by his attempt to grab their attention. "I'm right here," I would say. Quickly, I became frustrated. Many of you have read the account of when I was first endowed this title, and the pivotal moment it was for me. It felt as though something that meant so much to me was being given to others who had not comforted my son in the middle of the night, had not nursed him for 13 months, who had no actual interest in him. "They're not Mama. I'M MAMA!" He smiled at me, but kept hitting the table and calling out. I slumped back in my chair, deflated and sad.

And then I heard the still small Voice whisper, "And Lisa, not everything you cry out to is Me, either.

I gritted my teeth as soft expletives left my lips. Conviction doesn't feel good, but conviction that catches us off guard is probably the worst. Especially where I was feeling like all I wanted was my son's attention, and he was just freely calling out to anyone who would look in his direction, using my title.

I'm reminded in scripture of the Exodus, and how in chapter 13, the Israelites are rallied together, and expelled from Egypt. Then, in chapter 14, Pharaoh's army pursues them, and they cross over the river Jordan on completely dry land before the water engulfs the army, drowning them. And finally in chapter 15, Miriam and Moses sing about God's holiness and goodness to His people. This picture changes nearly completely by the time we get to chapter 32, where Moses is on top of Mt. Sinai talking to God, and the people approach Aaron saying, "We don't know what happened to Moses. Make us gods that will go before us (as they continued in the desert)." Aaron commanded they relinquish all their gold and fashioned a calf for them saying, "This is the god who led you out of Egypt." (vs 4)  He then built an altar before it and said the next day would be a festival to the LORD (referring to the calf.) The people then brought burnt offerings to it, and bowed down and worshiped before engaging in all kinds of revelry. (vs 5)

He actually used God's personal name to refer to this calf he fashioned with his own hands. This is the same Aaron that did wonders and miracles in the name of God as Moses' spokesman before Pharaoh. The same Aaron who woke up to the wonder of manna on the desert floor every morning, enough to feed the entire camp. The Aaron who was the first high priest, whose blessing we still pronounce as a typical benediction in services around the world.

Like Aaron, I have seen the hand of God move on behalf of many, and have heard Him speak directly into my life. I've been a part of His moving through the lives of others, in such a clear way. Yet I too have cried out for other gods to go before me as I trek through some of the hardest times in my life. I have worshiped at the altars of control and power, given offerings to worry and lust and cried out for direction from bitterness and resentment. Oftentimes, my prayers sound like I'm referring to God, but if they were scrutinized, it would be clear that I'm not.

Thankfully, the story doesn't end there. Though punishment did come for the disobedience, God relented in His anger, and restored Israel. Today, we live in a state of restoration, through a Savior whose desire wasn't to condemn the world, but save it, and did so by taking the offense of my sin onto himself. When I receive His conviction, it's His kindness leading me to repentance, as He knows idols made from my hands are only as powerful as I am, which isn't very much at all.

Abba, thank You for giving me a glimpse of Your frustration when I cry out to others for help, guidance or strength. Thank you also for gently guiding me back to pursuing Your voice in seasons where I'm not sure where You are, and I haven't heard a word in what seems like a long time. Give me the faith to believe that even when I'm not sure which direction You're coming from, that You are before me as I continue to trek through this desert season we're in. Let Your glory consume all others that would offer themselves in worship, that my family would live in a state of radiance from Your presence with us. Cut off that which would produce any doubt that Your love for us is endless. Thank you for using my little one to guide me back to you. In Jesus name.

The joy set before me

Life is not easy. I personally don't know anyone who would say it is, and those who are fortunate to have it "easier" usually have a pot hole filled past, and their present is just an illustration of triumph. That being said, I don't think anything magnifies hardship more than having a child. I have said often that I could live in a van, by the river, and work 3 jobs to make sure my bills are paid, but my son can't live that life. He needs stable living, and most days, I feel like such a failure that I struggle so hard to give that to him. I have a bachelors degree that I went $120,000 in debt to achieve, but I work at a job, that I hate, as a server, where I make less than $20,000 a year. We live, like so many others, on maxed out credit cards, paycheck to paycheck, with bills never paid on time, some months, not paid at all; Just so we can keep food on the table, gas in the car and make sure our son has what he needs. For the last 2 months, life has seemed overwhelming and dreadful. I haven't wanted to write, I haven't wanted to look for a new job, I haven't wanted to do anything, except binge watch Netflix. Everything seems too hard and like no matter the amount of effort I put forward, nothing will ever change. I have been resigned to hopelessness, and so many times, it makes me feel like I should just walk away from it all...

And then my son wraps his arms around my neck and gives me one of those big baby kisses, usually after meal or snack time. I think it's his way of saying, "Thanks Mom!" We usually turn it into a game, and in those moments, I find strength. His peels of laughter, with his content little belly shaking as I pretend to eat his thighs, give me immense joy. Enough joy to go to a job I hate. Enough joy to put in the 20th application this month. Enough joy to write this blog. His Hebrew name means Joy, and he is set before me, providing all the motivation I need to stay and grind out just enough hope to get through today. The reward I get just for being his mom is so much more than I could have asked for. Strength for today. Hope for tomorrow. Joy in the midst of suffering. Faith that it has to get better, because he needs better. Unconditional love, knowing he doesn't care if he eats oatmeal every morning. He loves oatmeal, and tells me as much with those sweet hugs and juicy kisses.

Christ's life wasn't easy either. When I first became a Believer, I didn't understand why He would endure such ridicule, shame, and suffering for me. If asked, I would have told you that I wasn't worth it. I didn't think anyone was. Now, thinking about it as a mom, I read Hebrews 12:1-3, and I totally get it. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter in what it means to walk this life. The focus of His life was not the job that He hated (Father, take this cup from me...,) or how even those closest to Him never really understood Him. It wasn't filled with resentment toward those who didn't appreciate Him (that's a big one for me,) and it wasn't founded with stress about where His next meal would come from. His focus was the joy set before Him. He could go to the cross because He saw our faces in eternity. Our peels of laughter and poured out expressions of our affection was worth too much too him to give up and walk away. The reward He gets from being our Shepherd is an eternity with those He loves most. For a parent, there is no greater thing.

It is my prayer that if you are in a similar place, as so many I know are, that you would find Jesus on your road. That the love and joy that we pour over our children would be beamed back to you, from His radiant face. That as you consider His love, and your place in His heart, that you would be strengthened, and not grow weary. I pray that we understand our value to Him, as we understand the value of our little ones, and that we would know the hope and victory that comes through perseverance.

Abba, thank You for pioneering this dark, foggy place I'm in. Even if I can't see 10 feet in front of me, I know You have already been there. I pray that you would continue to keep joy before me, that I might consider how I was the joy before Jesus as He endured the hardships He came across. I pray that as I focus on You, and throw off that which has hindered and entangled me that You would give me the strength to receive hope. Thank you for not only walking before me, but walking with me, offering comfort and promising victory. Heal my heart that I might believe what You say is true. In Jesus' name, amen.