A new Mother’s Day

Historically speaking, Mother’s Day has been my least favorite day of the year. The worst memories I have of growing up happened either on Mother’s Day or Christmas.

Even as an adult, with my own children most Mothers Day’s have been spent fighting back tears and sadness. You would think the first Mother’s Day after my birth mothers passing would be exceptionally difficult. But what I am feeling now, is a very different story.

Let me back up a little bit. This past Sunday we were in Virginia Beach for Anthony’s Master’s graduation. He also had an opportunity to preach at the Kroc Center on Sunday morning. He spoke about acts chapter 16, the passage about Paul and Silas being in prison and then being set free…

Here’s the Lisa Barnes condensed version of that story. What happens is, Paul and Silas are arrested, for casting out a demon in a slave girl who was fortune-telling.  When the people who owned this girl found out that their enterprise was now bankrupt, they got really pissed. They had Paul and Silas arrested. But first they were stripped naked, beaten, and chained not just with chains that we would associate with shackles. They were locked in stocks, which were big pieces of wood that completely immobilized them, impairing any kind of movement. Then they were placed in the center sell where everyone can see them, and they could be thoroughly humiliated.

That’s when they started singing hymns and praising God. Everyone in the jail heard. And then there was a great earthquake. This jail wasn’t a jail in a building like we would see now, it was probably in a cave and the chains were affixed to the walls and floor of the cave. When the earth shook their chains were broken and all of the prisoners were set free.

When the jailer realized that everyone was free he drew his sword to kill himself. He figured they’re all gone and I’m as good as dead anyway. Before he could do any harm, the disciples called out “Stop! We’re all still here. Don’t hurt yourself ”

The jailer doesn’t believe what he hears, so he grabs a torch and runs inside. When he sees that everyone is still there he doesn’t ask “why didn’t you leave?” Or, “what happened?” What he asks is “what do I need to do to be saved? ”

What struck me most from this passage of scripture, was that God could have released the prisoners anyway he wanted. He could’ve just changed the jailers heart and had him unlock everyone, or he could’ve just snapped his godly fingers and the chains could’ve been come invisible but, God does things in a way that we usually wouldn’t expect.

God uses something that we would consider to be an act of destruction. God uses an earthquake that is associated with damage and chaos, to bring freedom and salvation.

I mention this passage of scripture in regards to my current feelings towards Mother’s Day because my birth mother’s passing was a bit of an earthquake in my life. But through this time, I have a renewed sense in what motherhood is, and maybe more so what isn’t.

I have something great planned for the women who worship with us on Sundays. More than I can think about my own sorrow or loss, or even the childhood I never had… and now for sure can’t ever fully resolve, I’m thinking about how wonderful this Sunday can be for so many women that I Love with my whole heart.

Crazy things happen when we set our sights on kingdom things and not just our current situations. Growth happens when we make space for God to heal, even if that healing comes through our own earthquake.

I rejoice today in knowing that the wounds of our past, through the healing of Jesus, can be the faint scars of tomorrow. That’s not to say that those hurts don’t impact us, or even worse to say that they never existed. But they don’t have to be gaping. They don’t have to be a current affliction; they can be a memory of the people we used to be in the situations that God has brought us through.

It’s a cool thing to realize that as a woman who has love the Lord a long time, a woman who has been redeemed many times over, is still experiencing redemption of my story. Even today.

No matter who you are, or where you’ve been, what kind of mother you had, or what kind of mother you have been, I hope that your Sunday is bathed in grace and fellowship with folks you love. I pray your wounds continue to heal into faint scars.

 

You aren’t alone.

 

 

Here is a picture of my kids we took last week. I look at them, and praise God that even through my imperfections, that the cycle has been broken.