I have forgotten what it is like to tell a story, to relate the parts of my hidden life to others. It is what causes me to tuck into the glorious seclusion of God’s wings at the onset of this blog.
I want to be a good disciple – also, a good wife, a good mother, but I am not good at either, not in the way I wish I was. I am letting go of perfect, bit by bit, day by day. Unfurling my imperfect into His perfect.
There was this part of me growing up that thought that you had to do things right and well to be able to do them. I am not a disciple because I am a good disciple, a good wife, or a good mother. I am a disciple because I have believed in Christ as my Lord. But the lie that I must do the things well with little imperfection still clings to me. When my child does something completely surprising and honestly stupid, it hurts me.
“Why have I let this happen?” floats through my brain. I must deal with her on the external and help her figure out how to solve the problem all the while internally processing what feels like my own failure as a mom. It feels selfish to be dealing with my own insecurities while also helping her. Am I completely present to her need if I am also worried about my own need?
The only way to be present with her in the moment without judgment of her silliness and also, judgment of myself is to release my ideals and expectations to the wings I sit under. I open my heart present to the One who is, who is capable of holding simultaneously her embarrassment and mine. I work on her solution as He works on mine.
He tells me that her childish ways are simply that, childish ways. He reminds me that my status as His child is not dependent on whether or not she doesn’t fail or make mistakes or do crazy things with strange consequences.
My failure as a mom in this small moment in time is not my identity forever. Failure at this moment as a mom does not mean I have failed as a minister. My failure as a mom does not mean I have disqualified myself to minister. But my autopilot thoughts tell me that this childishness is my undoing, that I’ve failed again and that I should not attempt to minister to others if I cannot be a minister here in this moment.
It is true that my sins can be my undoing. My sins can disqualify me from ministry work for a moment in time. But my sins never disqualify me from accepting my eternal place as God’s daughter and His instrument of ministry as long as He is present in me.
If I were a pastor with sexual misconduct, it is right that I should step out of ministry. {But why are pastors able to get so far down the line of misconduct with no accountability?} But I am a mom with a hard conscience who must preach the message of grace to the hardness and remind herself that, “it is okay,” not the end.
All of this self-preaching happens instantaneously in my mind as swiftly as the thought that I’ve failed, but over time, these mini-sermons are changing me, helping me move past my own need and minister to my child in front of me.
Here we are three in one. The Father, His two daughters, me and my daughter. She gave me her problem, and I handed Him mine.
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