When your thirteen-year-old son weeps in your arms like a
baby while hugging you tightly like a man, something inside you breaks. This world
breaks us all eventually. When you love Jesus, and your heart is encouraged and
comforted by His words and His people, sometimes the weight of just having to
live day in and day out among lost sheep feels like hell on earth, not heaven.
(Luke 10:3)
My son is still young. The weight of the world he encounters
every day all day at school feels like oppression to his sensitive spirit. In
time, Jesus can grow him and turn that oppression he feels into compassion he
shows. Maturity turns our eyes outward instead of inward. Our thoughts become
about how to effect change instead of how to endure it. But at thirteen, God is
still building endurance in my son. And that’s good. He’s going to need it. (2
Corinthians 1:3, 2 Peter 1:5-7)
This broken Mama heart though wants to swoop in and rescue
him so badly! Homeschool him. Move him to a Christian school. Call our youth
pastor and put a bug in his ear to reach out to my son. Start beating the
pavement trying to find more Christian friends for him. The RPMs of my brain
begin to smoke until I feel like I might choke on the smoke, and then the tears
come, and I just cry.
I can’t rescue my kids from everything, nor is it wise to do
so. But Jesus can. He can be their Savior in every way they need and desire, so
all I need to do is find a way to keep pointing them to Him. He is the Answer. How
Lord? How do I encourage their hearts?
I sit to open my devotion, wondering if the Lord will answer
my heart’s cry. I read Paul’s salutation to the Colossians (4:18), and the devotional
author points out that Paul asked the Colossians to remember his suffering,
not save him from it. Paul knew, saw, believed, and lived His life knowing His
suffering was for a greater purpose, so much so that he found joy in it
(Colossians 1:24).
No one wants their suffering to go unnoticed. We all put on
a brave face sometimes and mask the hurt and pain life causes, but what we
really want is for someone to pull away the mask, look us in our tear-streaked
face and say, “I see you.” We want our pain to be acknowledged. It doesn’t have
to be validated, justified, understood, or even fixed. Many times, it can’t.
But our pain can always be seen and known and shared by those who love us most
and love us best.
As I type that last sentence, I can hear the Gaither Vocal Band cassette
tape playing in my Meema’s car as a child: I am loved, I am loved / I can risk loving you / For the One who knows me best / Loves me most / I am loved, you are loved / Won't
you please take my hand / We are
free to love each other / We are
loved. Yes,
it’s that simple and that hard all at the same time. Risk loving others because
I’m secure in the One who knows me best and loves me most. I can’t take the
first risk without being secure in the truth of my relationship with Christ and
position in Christ.
When I held my son and let him weep,
when I prayed God’s protection and presence to follow him into school that day
in the parking lot of a random church, when I cried with him and let him know I
was there—I did everything I needed to do. I loved him well. There’s nothing
more for me to do but offer him with open hands to my Jesus in prayer and intercession
and let him go. To school. Into the world. To battle. My Jesus walks with him.
His Jesus walks with him. I remind my son of truth; I don’t save him from
suffering. Only Jesus will ever truly save him from all his suffering. Any “saving”
I try to do in the meantime just steals an opportunity from the Lord to show up
strong on his behalf.
We 21st century Mamas are
strong, smart, capable, and we know how to find ways to solve all kinds of
problems for our kids, but at a certain age, we need to consider if we’re actually
inserting ourselves into the role of God in our children’s lives. I will not always
be here to solve their problems. Natural consequences will take their course
and their toll eventually. The question then becomes, as their mother, are you
teaching them how to trust Jesus or trust themselves (or others) to solve their
problems? I want my children to trust Jesus above all else. Truly. Even if that
means standing by and just holding them while they cry. Even if that means
keeping my mouth shut and letting them make poor (non-life threatening) choices.
Even if that means watching them suffer, stumble, and stall without inserting
myself into their circumstances. (Proverbs 3:5-6, Matthew 5:4, James 1:19,
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)
My children need to learn to trust
Jesus. The earlier the better. I need to learn to trust Jesus with their lives.
The sooner the better. What I can do is pray—often and constantly. I can share
tears and laughter because I’m available and present. I can speak truth in love
and remind them to pray also, to get in God’s Word and seek answers for
themselves, to ask questions of wise people, to ask for help if they need it. I
remind them they are seen, known, and loved, not just by me, but by their
Jesus. I can encourage them to stay the course, press on, and do hard things because
they are not alone. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, Ephesians 4:15, Hebrews 10:24-25)
It's counter-cultural to believe the
answer to our problem is not a physical answer or help. It requires trust to
believe reminders, encouragement, presence, prayer, and truth are more powerful
answers than a change of circumstances. It requires faith to believe seeking
spiritual things is of greater value than physical action. The first must
precede the latter. When the two get out of order, we find ourselves working in
our own strength which always leads to burnout and exhaustion. (Hebrews 11:1, 1
Corinthians 2:9-16)
The physical circumstances of what my
son is experiencing have not changed. Yet. But I am praying and watching and
waiting expectantly for the Lord to move my husband and me in the direction He
wants us to take. I’m praying and watching and waiting expectantly for how the
Lord will move in the heart and mind of my son. (Romans 8:25-27)
Our circumstances are central to our
calling, not a reason to run from it. God is Sovereign. He rules over every
detail of my life. My circumstances are not accidents. Your circumstances are
not happenstance. They are not reasons to run, hide, complain, or even change.
They are central plots to your story. Own them. Embrace them. Share them. Give
God glory because nothing is wasted. Seek God’s answer before you take one
step, do one thing. (Ephesians 1:11, Colossians 1:16, John 6:12, Matthew 6:33)
Is your relationship with Jesus your
first answer to life’s hard things? Is He your Refuge, Companion, and Safe
Place? Is the Holy Spirit your Guide and Helper? Do you follow His lead or your
own? Does the Father’s holiness and sovereignty humble your heart to His will?
Do you know Him well enough to even answer these questions?
“Lord, open the eyes of our hearts
that we may see You. Forgive us for trusting ourselves more than we trust You.
Thank You for pursuing us relentlessly. Thank You for working all circumstances
for our eventual good and Your inevitable glory, so that nothing rooted in You
is ever wasted or meaningless.”
