It’s always been a struggle for me to embrace this stay at
home mom gig as a calling. Other women
would tell me that in this season, these children are my ministry. It is my
job, my calling, my mission field to love and serve my kids day in and day out. These words of encouragement would pour out
of the mouths of all sorts of people, and in my mind I would think, “that’s
just something people say to encourage the mom who cannot get it together
enough to serve in the real mission
field.”
I would search out scriptures to support their
proverbs. I would scour Christian mommy
books and blogs in search of passages that would support this “home as the
mission field” mantra. Even Proverbs 31,
THE ultimate woman’s passage in scripture, reveals a mother and wife working hard out in the real world, reaching the poor, starting a business, a pillar of the community.
Gosh, where did she find the time? Her kids must have actually slept at naps
and nighttime, unlike some children I know.
And so I have languished in this in between place, the place
of longing to be something more, to do something more, to really impact the world for Jesus. I
hadn’t completely checked out of my mission field of two, but I also felt a
listlessness as I folded socks again,
cleaned up pee from the floor again,
and broke up the one millionth fight of the day.
But this summer I began to pray a new and different prayer.
I’m not sure exactly what inspired it, a book, a podcast perhaps, or just the
whisperings of the Holy Spirit. I would wake up each day and pray, “God let my
heart attitude be that I don’t have
to play with my kids today, I get to
play with them. Amen.” That was it. Simple and sweet. Change my perspective,
change my heart. Help me to see my children not as a burden, but as a blessing.
Teach me to delight and not dwell. Move me from the place of selfishness to one
of selflessness. Help me Jesus, I want this!
As no surprise to anyone, as I prayed this prayer, the
circumstances with my kids got harder. More fights. More tantrums. Bigger,
harder words falling from Izzy’s mouth. Tougher spiritual conversations. More
moments of me desperate on my knees asking Jesus what on earth to say next, or
begging Him to bridle my tongue so that I wouldn’t say all of the awful,
hurtful things I was thinking. And yet, each morning I would rise and pray once
again, “God let my heart attitude be that I don’t have to play with my kids today, I get to play with them. Amen.”
What did happen as I prayed this prayer was that I began to
cherish the moments a bit more. I set down my phone and could find myself
laughing, smiling, enjoying without the need to capture it on my camera and
send it to 10 of my closest friends. I caught myself whispering to God, “did
you hear what Josh just said? I love when he quotes things from his favorites
shows!” I stopped myself from grumbling about the spilled cup of paint water,
and remembered that it wasn’t that long ago that she couldn’t paint these
vibrant pictures at all. I had more glimmers of joy, more moments of gratitude.
God was softening my heart, He was laying the groundwork for
His crescendo, His climax, the revelation He’s been so patiently waiting to teach
me. Monday I opened 1 Peter 5 and read these words:
“Therefore, I exhort the elders among you,
as your fellow elder and witness of the sufferings of Christ, and a partaker
also of the glory that is to be revealed, shepherd the flock of God among you, exercising oversight not
under compulsion, but voluntarily, according to the will of God; and not
for sordid gain, but with eagerness; nor yet as lording
it over those allotted to your charge, but proving to be examples to the flock.”
And God opened my eyes. I am not an elder
in the church, but I am an elder in my home. I may not have a congregation, but
I have a flock. God has entrusted me with two sweet tender lambs, and He has
given me charge over them.
I love the language of this passage, the
language of the calling: not under compulsion, but voluntarily. Not for sordid
gain, but with eagerness. Not lording it over your charge, but proving to be
examples. Is this how I love my children? Do I love them, serve them, minister
to them out of compulsion because I have
to? Because that’s my job? Or do I honor them willingly? Do I cherish them, pursue their good, encourage them for
my own personal gain, cursing them when they ruin my image as the perfect
mother? Or is there an eagerness in my heart for their good, for their
finished, pure hearts who long after Jesus? Do I lord my authority over them as
one who knows what’s good for them if only they’d listen? Or do I remember my
own brokenness and need of a Savior and show them time and again what
repentance and forgiveness looks like?
These are high callings, and Peter knows
they are. As Peter writes I can just imagine his mind wandering back to when these words were first uttered, one of
his last encounters with the Savior. They are having breakfast and Jesus puts
Peter on the spot:
“So when they had finished breakfast, Jesus
said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love
Me more than these?’ He said to Him, ‘Yes, Lord; You
know that I love You.’ He said to him, ‘Tend My lambs.’
He said to him again a second time, ‘Simon,
son of John, do you love Me?’ He said to Him, ‘Yes,
Lord; You know that I love You.’ He said to him, ‘Shepherd
My sheep.’ He said to him the
third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love Me?’ Peter was grieved because He said to him the third time, ‘Do you love Me?’ And he said to Him, ‘Lord, You
know all things; You know that I love You.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Tend My sheep.’”
If we love Jesus, we will tend His sheep. As
I poured over this passage after reading 1 Peter 5, I sat with the weight of
Jesus’ calling. I get Peter here. I know what it feels like to say to Jesus, “Lord,
you know I love you,” and to have Him ask me again. Peter turned his back on
Jesus three times the night He was crucified. I don’t then think it’s a
coincidence that Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him. How many times
have I said with my mouth that I love the Lord, and then turned the other way
and betrayed Him? Far more than three, that’s to be certain. And yet, I just
love Peter’s response after being asked that wounding third time; “You know all
things; You know that I love You.”
Jesus knows, He knows that I love Him in my
meager, tiny offering ways. He knows that I do long to serve and honor Him with
my life. He knows that in my grumbling that my ministry of two was too small,
my real heart was to change the entire world for His glory. But His response to
Peter, and to my, desire to love Him well, is this alone—tend my sheep. That’s
what He wants from me. That’s the calling.
So I now find myself repeating new words
every day.
“Katie, daughter of Keith, do you love me?”
“You know I do Lord.”
“Then tend my sheep.”
That is my calling.
That is where He needs me to be. Perhaps He has me tending to two hearts
to prepare me to tend to 2,000. Maybe He needs me to tend to two hearts, so He
can do a mighty overhaul on my one. But one thing is for certain, Izzy and Josh
are His lambs. He created them, He loves them, He knows them, and they need an
earthly shepherd to point them toward the Heavenly one.
And so may I shepherd my children not under compulsion but
voluntarily and with willingness, not for any selfish gain. I've been trying to
embody these words--willing and eager. May I serve my kids, love them and pour
truth into their little hearts with eagerness and willingness knowing that this
is what Jesus instructed Peter to do, and this is what He has for me.
You see it isn’t so much about “this season”, it is about
tending the sheep in front of me. It is about believing that Jesus will lead
sheep to my pasture when they need tending, and that my job is to respond with
willingness and eagerness to each and every one. May I rejoice in every lost
sheep found, and may I delight in the tender calling of the Shepherd to tend
His sheep.
