I think this weekend has kept me locked up behind the gates of solitude as I find myself staring off into the distance and craving time in the quiet more then normal. This year, I just can't quite seem to wrap my little mind around Easter, around this thing called the resurrection.
My ears flood with sounds of my uselessness, my lack of belonging here. I feel something ugly when menial tasks are tossed my way, as if I am entitled to something greater then unpacking the car or manning the washing machine in the basement. I love to serve and I miss my friend even while she is sitting right net to me, two boys feeding off of her, and I just can't control my thoughts these days.
And as crazy as my brain as been as of late, I have never in my life heard grace sung so sweet as these past weeks. You know, it just keeps getting louder.
I think the message I hear is such: without the ressuresction, there would be no Christianity. No grace. No Truth to replace the lies. No after the before. No hope in the pain. No sacrifice in the death. It all hinges on the rock removed giving way to emptiness. It all comes back to the risen Son.
The one that dwells deep and hums to words otherwise mostly forgotten in the noise.
I watch this new Mamma and Daddy love bigger then I ever knew possible and it leaves me hungrier. Give me some a that, I think to myself. While I reflect on how things have changed and how I miss something that isn't even lost, just different.
I've seen God's provision lately in such unreal ways. And what I deserve is death.
There is something to be reconciled this year, some understanding I simply don't understand.
Understanding aside, I know it to be true so why do I still search here, within the constraints of clothes that hide shame and walls that conceal sin? What is it about saftey and belonging that is so appealing in our nakedness?
It's in us from birth, I'm learning. Something programmed deep, something beyond the passing the of genes. The kicking and flailing of complete unrestraint seen against the comfort of a tight swaddling blanket or two. The way their little muscles relax when they are scrunched up tight chest to chest. The unrest that comes in diaper changes contrasted with the peace of nakedness undone. The glory of a mamma nursing that makes every tear trickle away.
We all want to loved, protected, important-we all want to feel safe.
When I watch this new daddy lock eyes with his boys, I feel goose bumps chase up my arms. I hear him whisper to his son and I remember this glimpse of right relationship, of justice. It leaves me teary-eyed and hungrier. When mamma nurses, her love made flesh really does quiet them. I continually think of the way God rejoices over them with singing, the way watching her calm her little sweet peas reminds me He thinks of me like that too?
Even though my mom is still learning how to love me. In spite of my dad robbing me of safety.
He still quiets me with His love. He calls me beloved. No matter how tight my pants feel today or how I just barely swung a passing grade on that last test or how my bible was altogether forgotten on this little trip or how I have spent a few weeks engulfed in a thick fog, it seems.
I still long to hear Him singing, you know. I need it.
They cry for no reason sometimes. These two precious boys. Completely senseless and sleep-robbing tears, and yet her love waivers not, of course. I hear her voice--Oh my lil sweet pea. You know your mamma loves you? As she quiets them. And I know she would give herself for these little guys because I watch it happening, the way her life is belonging less and less to her.
Lord, is that not what you desire for me too? That as a new mamma of two is somewhat supernaturally empowered to function on far less sleep then should be humanly possible, I also should also feel the sting of something lost so that something else might be gained?
There is something powerful about these early days, something I hope to remember. The way the womb contracts and boys burst forth and there is much rejoicing and much sacrifice.
For me or you, it might not be sleep or a daily shower He is requiring for the taking. Perhaps it is shame. Or fear. Maybe failure. Or hurt of not being protected. Maybe even your love of other things.
Like these precious babies scream over a bit of nakedness, we too must remember that is us. We are completely deserving, you know? We are the naked and guilty, apart from the One who chose in His grace to clothe us--with the righteousness of a risen Savior!
Death that we might have life. Risen that He might live in us. Nakedness undone. Quieting us with His love. Do you hear the song yet?
The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing. [Zephaniah 3:17]