Photo by Liana Mikah on Unsplash

This familiar hymn has taken on special meaning to me as a new mother. While I've always liked the song, it was never a favorite, perhaps because the tune is so simple.

But in the hours I've spent singing, rocking and praying my little one to sleep over the last few months, this song comes first to mind many nights.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me..." and I want my son to know that. I want him to know that Jesus wants him just as he is.

Jesus wants him to come...

...on days when the little man feels he's been a good boy...

...on days when he is sad for a good reason, or no reason at all...

...on days when he is angry with Mommy or Daddy or a playmate...

...on days when he is angry with God...

...on days when he does well in school...

...on days when he gets a failing grade...

...on days when he knows he did something - or many things - he shouldn't have...

...on days when he has thoughts he's embarrassed to have God see...

...on days he just doesn't feel good enough...

And while I sing these words over him, I sing them to myself. Because God doesn't love me more when I do better. Despite everything I say to myself, God doesn't want me more when I share the Gospel with more people or watch fewer TV shows or read more Christian books or get everything on my to-do list done. He doesn't love me more on those days, and He doesn't love me less on days I'm ashamed of myself.

I can come to Him, just as I am, because He sees Jesus when He looks at me, and Jesus is the Beautiful One, the Shameless One, the Perfect One. I want my son to know that and I need to know that myself.

And I hope you know that you can come to Him just as you are and be loved because of Jesus. All because of Jesus.

Just as I am without one plea
But that Thy blood was shed for me
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee
O Lamb of God, I come
I come

~ Charlotte Elliott

Photo by Valentina Aleksandrovna on Unsplash

"So I'm breathing in Your grace and breathing out Your praise..."

We may not always feel like breathing out praise. Yet the very act of crying out to God praises Him because it acknowledges that He is the source where our needs are met. He remembers our frame; He knows that we are dust (Psalm 103:14).

Our song might instead consist of breathing out reminders to ourselves of that very fact: we are weak, but He is strong. "Let it go, my soul, and trust in Him."

I did this very thing a few months ago when I was feeling particularly anxious. I don't even remember the circumstance that unsettled my heart, but I do recall kneeling before the Almighty Calmer of the wind and waves and repeating, "Let it go, my soul," sweeping my hands from my heart out to the edges of my being and into God's grasp, "and trust in Him," reaching to the heavens and inviting His presence into my soul. This exercise was praise, but at the time it merely felt like gasping for air.

Perhaps you don't feel like breathing out praise. Maybe this summer you haven't been obliged to burst out in song to the Creator when you walk out into the sunshine. Instead you've continued to feel the cloud of doubt or worry or depression or fear hang over you as you go from inside to outside or from work to vacation or from alone time to friend time.

I encourage you to let it go, soul. You think you can't. Your situation is too imminent, too desperate. But look at the throne of grace, which we have been given the privilege to approach with boldness (Hebrews 4:15-16). This throne is not too small to handle your letting go and laying down, even if you have to return and let go and lay it down again and again. He is not unable to empathize with our weaknesses.

So gasp for the air that is the grace of God. Reach for His goodness though you grasp in the dark. And whether you are ready to jump for joy in the Lord or collapse with exhaustion from running a hard race, one thing you can be sure of is that you will always, always be breathing in grace.

Photo by Chad Madden on Unsplash

Do you ever wonder what sort of things God will allow into your life to help you learn to trust Him?

I do.

See, I've had a nice life. A pretty smooth, easy life. And I like it that way. I like having a great, healthy family and a comfortable living situation. I consider these blessings from the Lord, who loves to give good gifts to His children.

Yet I realize my faith muscles haven't had to be stretched too terribly much over the last 25 years. So, I wonder, what will it take to grow my faith?

I look at the burdens and struggles other people have had and worry that similar things might be waiting just around the corner for me. Do you?

When we fear the process of learning to trust the Lord, we forget that perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18). God will never allow us to experience something that's too much for us to handle when we're walking with Him (1 Corinthians 10:13).

Another admonishment from Jesus applicable to growing our faith muscles is that we shouldn't borrow trouble from tomorrow (Matthew 6:34). God has us where we are, in the situation we are in, today, for a reason.

Whatever you're going through at this moment, whether a huge mountain of a health crisis or a seeming molehill of a deadline at work, God is using it to teach you to trust Him. Be in the moment, and resist the pull to compare your struggle to another's.

Remember,

   Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
   but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:30-31

Ask the Lord to show you what He wants you to learn in this season, and walk forward one step at a time, holding His hand. Most of all, remember that He never lets go of yours.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.
John 1:14a

"Stop saying 'I'm only human'," admonished the guest preacher at church on Mother's Day. "To be fully human is to be like Christ."

The thought spun me into a whirlwind of Gospel-sized pondering.

In the beginning, God created man in His image. Not long after, man was tempted into eternal separation from the Being in whose image he was made by a fruit that promised a likeness to God, the ability to know good and evil.

Image. Likeness. Life. Death.

Skip over several thousand years of fruits born by the knowledge of good and evil to a human baby born to a simple girl in an unlikely place. The incarnation - fleshly, tangible presence - of God. God became human.

This human - Son of God, Son of man - lived human-ness flawlessly. He alone could balance the knowledge of good and evil with perfect submission and unthinkable humility.

And then, He who became human, suffered and died that we, who forsook the One whose image we bore, could finally be united with God Himself. This, not to be like Him, knowing good and evil, but to know Him and to house His Spirit.

Jesus Christ was the ultimate human. And the Gospel truth is that God redeemed our reaching for glory by a glorious reaching of God to us that we might be transformed into the likeness of Christ - the Glorious One Himself.

There is no "mere human", for we are all image-bearers. And for those that know Christ Jesus and the power of His resurrection, to be human is to be like Christ - glorified in humility, magnified in service to the Creator, whose image we bear.


In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

  Who, being in very nature God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
  rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature of a servant,
    being made in human likeness.
  And being found in appearance as a man,
    he humbled himself
    by becoming obedient to death—
        even death on a cross!
  Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
    and gave him the name that is above every name,
   that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
   and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.

Philippians 2:5-11

I'm expecting to give birth to our first child in a few short weeks. From what I've heard, due dates are silly things, but they do help give a sense of structure to a very fluid and indefinable sort of experience.

I cannot explain the joy that my husband and I have. I cannot express the feeling that God has knit together a new human life inside me - a little boy with a soul and a purpose designed by the Almighty since the dawn of time. That God would grant me the blessing of being host to such a miracle leaves me speechless.

When my husband and I found out I was pregnant last July, we knew parenting was part of the picture, but really all we could think about were the tiny hands and toes and nose that would surely be the most perfect combination of the two of us.

We started taking labor and delivery classes and the reality of the pain of childbirth set in, but also the reality of the moment when we would first hold our little gift from God in our arms.

We received a parenting book for Christmas and began thinking about how we would communicate with our little one to best guide him into making right choices.

We began ooh-ing and aah-ing over the miniature clothes gifted to us at baby showers but realized this little one would not be little for long.

Our naivete has yet to be fully replaced by enlightenment, but as we continue stumbling at this incredible pace toward our baby's birth date, we come that much closer to exposing this precious, innocent little one to the cold, hard world outside the womb, a world filled with hate, violence and lies.

What kind of reception is that?

That thought has taken over my heart at times. Why have kids if they're just going to experience pain and heartbreak and disappointment? Is that loving? Is it good to birth yet another child to feed and clothe and try to keep from harm when so many children are lacking the most basic human needs?

The answer is a resounding yes.

Our Creator knew full well what would be the result of our free will before He breathed life into Adam and commanded the first man and his woman to be fruitful and multiply. Yet He made us anyway. He made us so finite beings could share in His infinite love. And what is love without the choice to love? Thus, our will, and our fallen state.

And with that fallen state comes the curse of the pain of childbirth. I'm not sure that babies could have been birthed much differently before the Fall, but in some inconceivable way, the process would not have been painful. No sin, no suffering.

No turning back. Now every woman who has birthed a child - C-section, epidural, water birth, pain meds, med-free, home birth, hospital birth, or on the side of the road - knows there is no possible way to bring a child into the world without pain.

Here's what I learned, however:

A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.
John 16:21

The words of Jesus. It is a joyful thing when a child is born into the world. This truth is written on our hearts, which is why we burst with joy to celebrate the pregnancy and delivery of a child. Not only are children a gift to the world, the world is a gift to children.

Yes, each child will experience pain and the effects of the Fall, of their own free will and the choices of others to varying degrees. We grieve over this rightly. But not every mark of the Creator's hand was lost that day in the Garden. We still see traces and even sweeping brushstrokes of His splendor and beauty all over this earth, from humanity itself as a collective of His image-bearers, to birdsongs rejoicing in their Maker and sunrises declaring His mercies, new every morning.

So I rejoice in bringing my baby boy into this world, knowing that he will see the glory of the Lord in the Creation around him and that he will change the landscape of this world with his innocence and childlike faith. What a gift.