Sometimes, the weight of this broken world is so crushing that I can't breathe.
That there are children without clothes to cover their bodies on even the chilliest of nights, and I lament the loads of laundry.
That there are parents who would desperately love to feed their children...well, anything at all. And I sigh over the pantry that is too small to contain the most recent grocery trip's food along with our abundant staples. (One time Wild Man had lost his dessert privilege for a meal, and was basically losing his cool, terrified that the cookies would all be gone by the next day. I calmly said, "Baby, there's always more,"...and I choked on my words. How rich we are, that there is always more!)
That there are parents so desperate to feed their many children that they will actually sell one of them.
That there are marriages breaking and wives devastated and men broken over pornography...which at least in part fuels the above problem.
(Think I'm exaggerating or making this up? Go here - watch these films. Porn destroys lives...everyone it touches. It indisputably contributes to and fuels the international sex trafficking industry. This is not victim-less. It is the exact opposite of victim-less.)
Sometimes I'm crushed knowing that there are millions of children wasting in orphanages...just waiting. That there are too many like him, unwanted by those who should love. That if every Christian would care for just one child in addition to their own through adoption, foster, or sponsorship programs, there would be no more needy children in the world.
Sometimes I think about my sin, the sin of my kids, the utter futility of it all apart from the Hope we have in Christ...the hopelessness that many faces I see are expressing every time I leave the cocoon of home and venture out into the world. Sometimes the seeming hopelessness of it all makes me feel cynical.
Sometimes I go outside for a moment - to move the laundry around, or take the trash out - and just stand there and breathe and pray. And yes, sometimes, cry out, "Where are You in all this mess?"
Sometimes I feel this brokenness - the brokenness on the other side of the world, right here in my city, maybe even right across the street from my home - and can't believe that I spend entire days obsessed with the minutiae of my household, my life, my kids, my me-me-me, all the time.
Sometimes I'm a little tired of getting called names. I've been called liberal, because of my heart on compassion. I've been called conservative, because I'm a stay-at-home-mom and homeschooler. I've been called emergent, because I think the Church in America has really dropped the ball on a lot of things in the past century. I've been called a fundamentalist, because I take Church authority, doctrine, and theology pretty seriously. I've been called legalist for some of our choices. Name-calling, over single points within huge issues, that are all just a part of who I am in Christ...who He is shaping me to be.
I think we mere mortals tend to zero in on itty bitty things. I do this all the time. Maybe because thinking about it all is just so overwhelming? So whatcanIpossiblydo? So maybe that's where this name-calling comes in. I see it, I hear it, I receive it, and let's be honest: we all do it from time to time, even if only in our quietest, most secret inner recesses of our hearts.
Zeroing in is a little easier on me. I compartmentalize. I call it my calling, my occupation, my season, whatever. And these things are all true: being a homemaker is my calling, and I believe it is a high and holy one. And my dream come true. Being a momma of littles and a teacher to my brood is my season. Yes, and amen. And I love this job, and believe me, I'm not searching for anything more significant, because this job is not too small or low for me: on the contrary, it feels much too big. At the bare least it is far bigger than I can accomplish without the Help of One who never fails. I don't need more. Sometimes I want to turn my head away from more...to unlearn the hard things and feel "Leave It to Beaver" peaceful in my daily striving to be a good and Godly wife and mom.
But when the weight of this brokenness presses down on me so hard that breath comes shallow...
...when I trace the curves of tummies round with fullness (rather than worms), these peacefully sleeping babes in cozy beds in a warm home, and I feel like screaming in anguish "This isn't fair!"...
...when the neighbor we had such good intentions of loving well in small and practical ways dies suddenly, leaving behind a wife-shell succumbing to Alzheimer's and adult children with broken marriages and hearts...
...when there are hurts in a loved one's heart that I can do nothing to stanch or alleviate...
...when Husband, children, and I all alike fall prey to same dadgum sin struggles, time and again...
...when my thoughtless words wound...
...when I can see my daughter fighting - warring with her own personal Wormwood, warring with everyone around her, warring with me - and then finally break down in shuddering sobs of repentance...
then I remember...
All of this is why He came. All of this...this mess we make and the mess that we are...is reason enough to celebrate His coming. Was He really born on December 25th, and did the Magi really come that night? Of course not. But friends, He came. And that is worth setting aside a month to ponder and pray over the mystery of Emmanuel, God incarnate and God with us, to thank Him and worship Him and glorify Him. To connect-the-dots through God's Word together during evening family worship, to remind ourselves again and again of the story woven throughout The Record of all time, how all of creation groaned and awaited and rejoiced and exalted when the Word became Flesh.
He came because we need a Savior. He came because the only answer, the only hope in all this world, is a Redeemer.
The answer to brokenness is Christ. The answer is Christmas - Jesus given to us. Merry Christmas, indeed, my friends.
Read more: Love this, The Entire Christmas Story in One Verse
Watch more: grab a kleenex...
4 comments:
amen...sometimes the broken places (parts of me!) are utterly overwhelming. but His burden is light...wanting to keep my eyes on Him or i start to sink like peter did because i too am wrought with unbelief.
Ellen, that is EXACTLY the story that WM and I have been talking about daily (hourly?) for the past week or so - I always remind him that when we take our eyes off Christ, suddenly we see all the roiling waters all around us. When we take our eyes off Christ is when we panic, feel that all the threats actually have some power over us, and start to sink. We (Mama and littles) have had a fall *full* of broken places in the thread home, and it's only when I am focusing my gaze on Him that any of us stay afloat.
Come.on.
Why are you not writing for a larger audience?
Greta, you humble me. :) I feel like that about several blogs I read, although I'm not sure I can relate to anyone thinking that about my mess...
I do know at least 2 reasons why, though. First, simply a little fish in a big pond. Like, krill-little, and oceans big. But more than that, my God knows exactly how much attention I can and cannot handle. ;)
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