Some days, the "sacrifices" I make seem nominal compared to the work I am invited to participate in, the work God is doing in and through me. Those days are rare. Most days, I seem to be drowning in laundry, battling behavior, wading through toys, and focused on the tasks that surround me instead of the souls entrusted to me. And when I stop folding laundry long enough to realize these little beings are still here, waiting to be filled, loved, nurtured, discipled, I come up empty. I am empty.
"Then a man named Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house because his only daughter… was dying. As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.” – Luke 8:42-44
I stand in my corner and like the bleeding woman, I, too, can see the back of His cloak as He passes by. I watch as God moves the mountains for others, working, healing, raising their dead. I see my dreams become others’ realities. In my corner, it’s quiet. In my corner, nothing changes, or so it seems, and I sit, clenching the same dreams, head down, nearly lifeless. All while witnessing this infinite power that has no capacity, no maximum, no measure. It is limitless. And it is right in front of me.
And I ask myself the hard questions… What do I do? Do I fold up shop, give up, live defeated? Do I turn around, walk away, assume He’s too busy for my problems, that He will not crumble my mountains in His perfect time? Should I assume His power can't heal my bleeding defeat? Or do I reach with everything I’ve got hoping to touch even His cloak as He passes by? Afterall, enough power resides just in the hem to heal the world, if only I can reach it – if only I will reach out.
Sometimes in the midst of this blessing called motherhood, I feel powerless, I am powerless. All my best efforts are no guarantee of my children’s future, their salvation. But can’t this infinite power help even me, even here, in the trenches of mothering, for the sake of my children, for the glory of His kingdom?
“As Jesus was on his way", to raise the dead mind you, He healed a woman who was suffering for 12 years. Nobody could heal her. She suffered in hopelessness all those years, but her faith welled up within her and compelled her to reach out in her darkest hour. And as Jesus was passing by, to perform the ultimate of miracles, He still had power enough to stop 12 years of bleeding dead in its tracks. There was no portioning His power, no reserving, no budgeting. He always has enough… always. And He longs to unleash it... on the faithful, on those who believe in the reality of a sovereign God, a powerful God, a God who heals and delivers and redeems and loves and longs for His people to call on His name... even in our darkest hour, especially in the darkest hour.
I am a great mom only when I reach out to a greater God. And I can rest in knowing I am not big enough to ruin the plans God has for my children. He adorned me with the title Mother for these children. He chose me because He knew my kids needed exactly me. He chose me because He knew I needed exactly them. But above all, HE chose me. He CHOSE me. He chose ME.
Lord, may that sink deep into my broken places, let it wash away my shame and self-condemnation. Let it drown my doubt and fear. My power has a very real capacity, a pathetic capacity. Yours, Lord, has no capacity. I leave my yesterdays behind and reach with everything I’ve got for Your hem, O Lord. Because I know simply by touching it, my bleeding can stop. My bleeding words that tear down, my bleeding defeat and emotional instability, it can all cease when I brush against Your limitless power. Lord give me the courage to open my clenched fists, let go of anything I call MY dreams and reach out for Yours. Because in my surrender is where I find your power unleashed. Amen.