Reluctantly, I peeled my eyes open this morning, rolled out of bed and stumbled toward my wooden, yet cushioned study chair in our office. I don’t particularly care for early mornings and I would not characterize myself as a “morning person,” but I am finding it necessary to tune my heart to His before the clamor of the day rumbles in.
Processing the order of events in just the first few hours of this week’s Monday, I felt a knot settle in my momma stomach. I would be dropping Caden, our 3rd grader, off at the high school for a few hours of basketball camp and thirty minutes later, I would be dropping Addison, our 6th grader, off for 3 days of overnight church camp. I know that these acts seem minute and probably not worthy of mention. Yet, they were distinct, visual reminders for me that they are growing up without me witnessing every moment of it.
In order for them to strengthen their wings, I must give them opportunity to do so without my hovering. When they launch from our nest at 18, it won’t be the first time they have tested their wing strength. Hopefully, when they leave our nest in adulthood, they will have confidence in their flight skills. In part, due to the conglomeration of letting go moments similar to the ones tucked into this day. God-appointed as their Momma bear, I must choose to encourage them to meander outside of their comfort zones, all the while loitering outside of mine; that we might all mature in trust of our sovereign, loving Savior.
I’ve heard it said and I believe it to be true that Jesus did not give us the Holy Spirit to do possible things, but to do impossible things.
Over a month ago, I was riding down the road behind the wheel of our black Toyota Tacoma humming along to a song that stated these words, “Set a fire down in my soul. That I can’t contain and I can’t control. I want more of You God, I want more of You God!” (Set a Fire by Jesus Culture with Martin Smith) Minutes later, I was scuffing my feet along the sidewalk of our church building, my stomach in turmoil. I was feeling vulnerable. That afternoon I would be stepping out in faith to what I believed to be the wooing of His voice to start a local ministry inside of a community I had only known for a year.
What if I stand alone, Lord? I will feel stupid. Why do you call me to uncomfortable places? It pains my ego to think I may stand in solitude.
He gingerly, yet firmly, spoke to my spirit.
You were just singing to me, “Set a fire down in my soul…I want more of you God.” I answer your prayers, and you argue with my methods? Standing alone on the simple assurance of my presence is often the place you find deeper intimacy with me. It’s the place where you learn that I AM is enough. I AM can be trusted. Even if you lose something valuable to you such as your pride, you will find it most comforting to have more of me in lieu of more comfort which equals more of you. Now is the time to build an altar. Let go, let Me. Refuse to give into the anxiety of misunderstood methods, and rest in my sovereignty.
In the moments of motherhood and ministry that shove me outside of the doorframe of my contentment, I choose to trust the greater plan of my Savior for the good of my children, for me and the good of my community. It may just be a few hours of basketball camp, a few days of church summer camp or inviting a few friends and acquaintances to gather and pray. Yet, these are precisely the moments where my kids and I will learn to lean into Him when we are lonely or vulnerable. The moments where we will learn…when the solace of what we know is removed, we find identify within the security of His companionship.