Remain…
In the last week, three nuggets of truth have been mined from the daily comings and goings of caring for my children. I haven’t polished them up to be fully thought through, but wanted to share them as they are.
The first nugget of truth came through listening to my daughter Elizabeth share about what she’s been learning in school. Her Grade 1 class recently did a study on light. And she was telling us the difference between man-made light and naturally occurring light. Man-made and God-made. Both are light. And both help us tremendously, but they are not the same. I know this deep inside living in Vancouver. I have light all around me. Ceiling lights, light from my bedside table, light from my device, light on the oven and over the sink, light on the dishwasher that tells me it is ready to be unloaded. But I miss THE light. Sunlight. After several weeks of grey and drizzle, I crave basking in the sun. I think the same is true of words and love. I listen to podcasts and audiobooks where I come away encouraged. But it is not a substitute for reading the WORD of God. And if I rely to heavily in a season on human words, I reach a point where I find myself searching and seeking something deeper, something that connects to my heart, something that give purpose and grounding to my thoughts. Again, human words are helpful in certain circumstances and can be inspired by scripture. But they cannot replace God’s words. The same is true for love. I love my husband and kids, and they show love back to me in ways that are precious and filling. But it is not FULfilling. I gotta get that from the source. Gods love for me is unrivalled, limitless, steadfast
The second nugget of truth came one early afternoon. I was sitting in the rocking chair of the nursery, feeding the baby. Eleanor had followed me in, my little mini-me. I had worship music playing off my phone and she began to twirl and dance. And then she said this: “Momma, I’m dancing with God.” It only lasted a minute before she went back to her current favourite game of hide and seek without telling me she’s playing hide and seek. But it struck me in that moment that she was experiencing the intimacy of relationship, just her and God. And I had to ask myself: “Anne, when was the last time it was just you and God.” I had this aha moment of realizing I had subconsciously invited others into my relationship with God. So often I lean more towards thinking of the church and God, or my family and God, or my marriage and God. And yes, I play a role in all of those spaces. And it’s not wrong to think or pray or seek God’s guidance for these broader groups. But at the end of the day, what matters most is ME and God. He died for ME. He calls ME to follow Him. He wants MY heart. And when I connect myself to Him and pursue intimacy with Him, then I can better serve my people. I want to dance with God with the same reckless abandon my 3 year old does.
The third nugget of truth came as I watched my little boy. He is a happy boy, beginning to laugh and giggle at his sisters and the doggy and especially his daddy. And yet, at this stage of his development, I’m the lucky recipient of most of his affection. Open mouthed slobbers great me as I go to kiss his cheek. Bright big brown eyes twinkle and limbs wiggle about when I greet him in the morning standing over the side of his crib. And when he’s awake, does he like being on his back? Not particularly. Does he like being on his tummy? Not at all… he’s perfected the roll flop back onto his back. Does he like to be sitting in his bouncy chair. Only temporarily. His favourite place is in my arms, either holding him up so he can bounce on his legs, or on my hip as I walk around the house and attempt the to-do list with one arm. As mom, I am the most important person to him. I feed him. I comfort him. I clothe him. I clean him. I give him rest. I also delight in him. (You can probably see where this is going…) The other day, I had set him down for some tummy time on his mat so I could do something quickly that required both hands. He was playing with a few toys and as I came back, I spoke to him. He lifted his head and was looking around for me. He knows my voice. And when he saw me, the biggest grin spread across his face. Another time, some friends were holding him and trying to get him to laugh with peek a boos. He was smiling, but the moment he saw my face over their shoulder, he began to laugh. Do I know the voice of my Father? Do I know Him enough to know when its Him at work in my life? Do I truly know and believe that He delights in me? And is He the recipient of my truest affection?
Having typed these little nuggets out and reflected along the way, I see that there is a common theme here. Jesus sums it up in four words: “Remain in my love.” (John 15:9b)
PS. I am posting this a few weeks after writing it. And as we start Lent this week, I keep coming back to this thought of remaining in Jesus’s love. And I am holding both the gravity of the necessity of the cross and the joy that He would love me that deeply. And then asking the biggest question of all: so what am I going to do with that love?