now I'm a mom

I just started going to a ladies’ study through the book None Like Him by Jen Wilkin, and the first chapter is all about the fact that God is infinite—necessitating the acknowledgement that I am not. One of the discussion questions was, “What God-given limitation or boundary do you most want to rebel against?”

I had a hard time with this question at first, not sure if the idea was to choose a commandment I find hardest to obey, or a scientific law I find annoying, or something else entirely. But as I’ve been mulling it over in the days since, I wonder if that’s actually the point of the question: We all have God-given limitations, and what incites rebellion in one of us might be very different from what incites rebellion in another. It’s not a right-answer question, it’s a personal question. A thinking question.

My thinking has pointed me in the direction of my daughter.

Clara is a God-given limitation on my life. Her presence has drawn lines and placed boundaries in places that were once wide-open—boundaries on the clock that delineate naptime and bedtime, boundaries that alter where I can go and when and for how long, boundaries on what I speak and eat and listen to and do, because she is always watching me. Because of her, there are new limits of time and energy on the projects I can take on, the ideas I can bring to fruition, the thoughts I can organize enough to write.

Adjusting to these new limitations has been hard in a way that can feel invisible and isolating. I am often frustrated or depressed to realize that I’m not, in fact, infinite—that I don’t have troves of energy to draw from at the end of a long day; that I need eight hours of sleep even though I “should” be spending that time doing something; that I can’t usually take on the available volunteer roles at my church, or the extra unfilled shifts at my work.

It bothers me when I hear parents say things like, “I wish I’d done ___ before I had kids” or “You’re so lucky you don’t have any kids and can do whatever you want!” I never want my child to feel like a ball and chain, or a reason I didn’t get to have the life I wanted. But the limitations are real, and hard—especially without much of a family or community support system nearby. I was always a creator and a thinker and a doer. Now I’m … a mom?

Yes. Now I’m a mom. And moms are some of the most creative, thoughtful doers in the world—they just tend to be unseen. You can’t hit “publish” on most of what we create, think, and do. Our children are our masterpiece, made by God but shaped and loved and prized by us, His assigned caretakers. We are doing the work of Adam and Eve in Paradise:

Then the LORD God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it.

Genesis 2:15

The glorious garden courtyard of the Lord’s presence is no longer found in a place called Eden, but within every home and family that has been won to the Kingdom of Heaven. He dwells in us, in our children. What higher work is there for me in this moment than to “cultivate and keep” my Clara for the glory of my God?

That’s the wonder of God-given limitations: although to my small mind they often look like a bad thing at first glance, in reality they are guard-rails on my path, preventing me from wandering off toward lesser prizes than the crown of righteousness. It’s not that the only way to please God is by becoming a parent; rather, if we want to serve Him fully, we’ll need to submit to His desire and design for our lives—including the parts that appear to “hold us back”—no matter what our family situation, or lack thereof.

God is the infinite One. He intentionally created me to be finite. And sometimes being held back by my God-given limitations, while it can be frustrating or discouraging or downright painful, is exactly what I need.

reflections on another journey through the Bible

It’s naptime on June 29, 2022—which means it’s the first afternoon in six months that I have not had a mental checklist running of everything I need to do for Bible180 today, and a mental timer going so I can prioritize each task within the amount of time I estimate Clara will sleep. Some days, something else came first and all this had to wait until bedtime, but even then, the mental checklist was always there.

I made a commitment this year not only to read through the Bible in 180 days—which is something I’ve done several times already and no longer daunts me as it once did—but also to create a brief overview of all 66 Biblical books, to post the reading schedule weekly, to post the day’s passages daily, and to share some of my thoughts and/or favorite resources every day, too. It was a ton of work (you can find it all over on the official Bible180 Instagram page), and I am really proud of myself for staying (mostly) on top of it, even through several sicknesses and travel and all the other random mishaps of life.

To mark the end of this first Bible180 Challenge of 2022 (yes, I’m going to be starting over again on July 1, and it’s not too late to join), I decided to spend this naptime reflecting on the things I’ve learned (or re-learned) over the last 6 months:

Reading through the Bible — especially reading through it quickly — is an enormously powerful way to appreciate God’s whole story.

This is one of those things I “re-learned” this year. I KNOW how amazing it is to read the whole Bible as a unified story, but every time I do it, that story comes alive for me in a new and unique way. This time, I kept seeing both the sweeping big-picture view in which God crowned His Son King over a Creation that had been chasing after the deceitful attractions of Babylon AND the incredibly personal approach God took to make it all happen—advancing the plan through one flawed human at at time, until the only Perfect Man came to set things right.

It was fascinating to notice how much of God’s plan centered around whole nations, not necessarily individuals; it made me rethink the emphasis we place on the idea of a “personal relationship with God,” as if each of our faith-walks exists as something separate and self-contained from the universal story. At the same time, to see how He chose and worked through individuals—Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, to name a few of the big ones—and furthermore, to see how He cared for those that history has left forgotten and nameless by inviting the “least” of every tribe and tongue and people and nation into His glorious kingdom, left me breathless that He could be both infinite and immanent at the same time.

Somehow, the Bible captures the truth of who God is at both a cosmic and a microcosmic level. He is the King of my heart and the King of the universe simultaneously. He demands the allegiance of nations as well as the allegiance of secret souls.

Without the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament), the Christian Scriptures (New Testament) are meaningless.

Once we got into the New Testament several weeks ago, it became clearer than ever to me that we do a HUGE disservice to the Bible when we do not prioritize the teachings of the Old Testament. As the apostles, and Jesus Himself, clearly understood, the Old Testament is the foundation the entire Christian faith stands on; without it, we have only the story of a prophet and the claim that he was raised from the dead. The Hebrew Scriptures are what give credence to every bit of Jesus’ history, teachings, and miracles; they are the corroboration of His identity as the Messiah and what that means for the Jewish people and the rest of the world.

And yet, very often, we spend a good 80% of our time (if not more) studying the books of the New Testament, without establishing the proper background knowledge offered by the Old Testament. No wonder so many people find the Bible incredibly confusing—they’re reading it backwards!

One of the verses that really struck me in this regard was Hebrews 1:3:

The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact expression of his nature, sustaining all things by his powerful word. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high.

Purification from sins? What is that, without Genesis to tell us about sin, or Leviticus to tell us about purity? In fact, what meaning does the “radiance of God’s glory” shining through the Son really have, if we can’t call to mind the Bible’s stunning word-pictures of the original Garden Paradise, the descriptions of God’s glory filling Solomon’s temple, or the prophetic promises of a New Creation to come?

I’m not saying that people can’t be redeemed and transformed by the Gospel unless they understand these things first, but I am saying there are a lot of baby Christians who have been stunted in their growth for too long because they haven’t been eating enough meat.

The Christian life should be unmistakably marked by joy, peace, love, and worship.

One thing that really disturbs me after spending so much time in the Bible over the last 6 months is how attitudes of fear, despair, and avarice pervade the American Church. So many Christians seem to be lost in the wilderness, creating golden calves as God’s stand-in because they can’t see that He is enthroned on the mountain right in front of their faces. When they should be dancing in triumph because their God has won, when they should be showering His abundant love on everyone they encounter because they’ve been so richly blessed by it, they are instead wallowing in the loss of cultural favor and shutting out those who might have needs — or they’re still standing in the prison cell of sin because no one told them Christ’s salvation is for NOW as much as it is for eternity.

Perhaps these weak Christians (of which I have often been one) are the product of a weak Gospel—one that only has power over the life to come, leaving this life as something we just have to “get through.” That is not the Gospel of Scripture! Look what Yahweh said about the objective of the Messiah on earth, according to the prophet Isaiah:

“I am the Lord. I have called you
for a righteous purpose,
and I will hold you by your hand.
I will watch over you, and I will appoint you
to be a covenant for the people
and a light to the nations,
in order to open blind eyes,
to bring out prisoners from the dungeon,
and those sitting in darkness from the prison house.”

Isaiah 42:6-7

The four Gospels bring this vision to life through the activities of Jesus Christ during His ministry. The apostles’ letters preach that it can be the enduring reality of a Church that chooses to live according to the upside-down ideals of the kingdom of heaven. The Gospel is for NOW. The King has been crowned. Our God wins.

So why are we still looking for another savior—the next president, perhaps, or a better political party? Why are we still living as slaves to sin—excusing our lusts and addictions as something biological or innate, when the blood of Jesus Christ was shed to make us NEW? Why are we just enduring this life, as if the victory has not yet been won, when it has?

I wonder what might happen in this country, and indeed the world, if we really took up the charge of Paul and the vision of Jesus by living peaceably and submissively despite what’s happening in politics; by loving one another without reservation or fear of the cost; by truly worshiping our crowned, enthroned, living King—yes, the One who resembles a slaughtered lamb more than He does a Lion.

What about you?

If you’ve EVER read through the Bible, I would love to hear what you learned and how it impacted your walk with God. Leave me a comment below!

If you read with us during Bible180 (even if you didn’t finish), I would love to hear how this challenge specifically went for you. Fill out the anonymous survey here!

And if you want to read through the Bible with me over the next 6 months—let’s do it! You can sign up to get all the resources here, follow along on Instagram here, and find the master schedule here! Meanwhile, naptime is just about over, so I’m going to take a break for the next couple days and I’ll be back in Genesis 1 with you on Friday!

daydreaming

I am not much of a daydreamer, but there is one particular fantasy that I occasionally catch glimpses of in my mind’s eye, and sometimes indulge for a minute or two. I see a little patio table and a couple of chairs tucked between the wild tangles of flowers that make up most of my front yard, comfortably shaded by the canopy of a still-smallish Japanese maple. In my vision, I’m sitting there with my Bible open or some other book in hand, watching a little-bit-older Clara play in the cul-de-sac, when a neighbor on an afternoon stroll stops by to say hello, and another from the next house down sets aside their yard work for a minute to join the conversation. Maybe we are talking about something important and maybe we’re not; maybe it leads to “Bring a lawn chair over and we’ll barbecue” and maybe it doesn’t, but either way, it’s a delicious nibble at that old-fashioned treat, community.

If I really let my imagination run wild, the daydream evolves into a back deck full of people holding Bibles and babies, talking about what we read that week in the Bible180 Challenge—a kind of book club for the Bible, less formal than a Bible study but centered entirely on the Word and the quest to understand it as a cohesive whole. The older kids are running wild in the yard and there’s a pan of dessert on the table, mostly eaten up. The group is peppered with people of every generation, from those wearing the “crown of glory” (see Proverbs 16:31) down to young parents, teenagers, children.

It’s a small and not-at-all-small dream. There are times, in our frantic technological age, when it feels more out of reach than the deepest recesses of Siberia.

I grew up in a place where houses were far apart but neighbors were knit close. Nobody had a board-fenced backyard. Stopping to chat in a driveway or on a porch step was a common day-to-day occurrence.

Moving to my current city was a culture shock I’m still absorbing eight years later: I could throw a rock and hit my neighbor’s house, but have barely interacted with any of them beyond a smile and nod from afar. Add to that being several hours’ drive removed from my entire family and teaching myself to get by on the counterfeit sense of belonging offered by watching old friends’ lives unfold hundreds of miles away on a screen, and it’s little wonder that in my daydreams, I see what a generation or two before me would have just called “normal life.”

My church is sending out missionaries, some to far-flung countries in desperate need of the Gospel. I’m excited for them and for how they will further the Kingdom. I’ve even had a few split-second doubts of “Wait, should I be doing that, too?” But I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one in this country who is in desperate need of the Gospel—and genuine, offline Gospel community.

When I was a kid growing up in Middle-of-Nowhere, Washington, nothing excited me more than the prospect of setting out to explore the unknown. I had few opportunities to travel back then, but I took every single one. And I still love to explore the world and to learn from other cultures—I’ve just found that the Unknown is not where I’m meant to live.

I’d like to be known again, I’d like to know others again, and I think my work is here.

So—who’s up for a Bible book club at my place? I’ll make dessert. ;)

About brotherly love: You don’t need me to write you because you yourselves are taught by God to love one another. In fact, you are doing this toward all the brothers and sisters in the entire region of Macedonia. But we encourage you, brothers and sisters, to do this even more, to seek to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded you, so that you may behave properly in the presence of outsiders and not be dependent on anyone.

1 Thessalonians 4:9-12