Headed to church last Sunday evening, I furiously wiped tears from my eyes. It was one of those cries where if I didn’t get myself under control, my eyes would be puffy and red, and I’d have to answer questions once people saw my face.
In just a matter of a few minutes prior to leaving, Drew disobeyed me (I can’t even remember what he did now), challenging my authority in a way that a 6-year-old does. My anger went from 0 to 60 quicker than a Shelby Mustang at a test track. I don’t recall handling the problem badly; I just remembered how out of control I felt. I remember how angry I was at Drew. I remember feeling like I must be failing for him to think he could show such lack of respect to his mother.
But above all, I remember wondering, “How in the world am I going to make it all summer with both kids all day, every day?”
Just like during my postpartum depression after Drew was born, I found myself questioning God. Back then I questioned why He answered my prayers for a child when clearly I was the most horrible mother to a newborn in the history of motherhood. Now I questioned why he led me to pray to be a stay at home mom when I have no idea how I’m going to make it all summer. And above all, how in the world could this be good for Drew?
I kept coming back to the assurance that I have no doubt God clearly led me to stay home with my children. It was a plan that he was working years before I even thought I wanted it.
Yet I also knew there is no possible way I can handle this in my own strength.
I realized this is what God was trying to show me. I cannot make it this summer without his help, without complete dependence on Him.
I came back to to a devotional in a book by Nancy Leigh DeMoss that my friend Jennifer gave me. This particular day, the Scripture focus was, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3) I’ve read this over and over and instead of paraphrasing, I want to share it with you.
The Greek Language, in which the New Testament was originally written, has two different words that Jesus could have chosen to speak of someone being “poor.” The first word suggests someone who lives just below the poverty line, who is always having to scrimp and scrape to survive, who somehow makes ends meet, but just barely. That’s not the word Jesus chose. He used another word that means “beggar” – a person who is utterly, absolutely destitute and who has no hope of surviving unless someone reaches out a hand and pulls him up.
“Blessed” are the beggars, Jesus said – the broken ones, those who recognize that they are spiritually destitute and bankrupt, who know they have no chance of survival apart from God’s intervening mercy and grace….
You and I will never meet God in revival and experience the fullness of His blessing in our lives until we first meet Him in brokenness, acknowledging our spiritual poverty – that we have nothing and we are nothing apart from him.
I realized my having no amount of strength, no amount of patience, and no amount of wisdom equal to the task at hand is exactly where God wants me. He wants me completely dependent on Him to do the work that He has called me to do.
After all, where is the room for God to work if we can do it all in our own strength?
It was in that brokenness that God started to gently guide me, revealing how he is going to lead me. I will post about that soon, but to close this post, I want to ask you:
What might God be calling you to do that is impossible in your own strength?