(I know I've mentioned before that Domestic Kingdom is quickly becoming one of my favorite blogs. I am so excited to introduce you to Gloria Furman today. She's smart. She's an excellent writer. And she always points me to the gospel. I think you'll be encouraged by this post and love her as much as I do.)
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This, too, shall pass?
I remember being very eager to
bathe our newborn son by the time we brought him home from the hospital.
His adoring big sisters
followed me into our bathroom so they could watch him get his first bath. We
were amazed to see just how much fuzzy brown hair he had as I washed it. It was
like one of those “Chia pet” plants that seem to sprout grass overnight.
I laid his 7-pound, wrinkled,
little body down on my bed to diaper him.
Then his sisters descended on
him like seagulls scrambling for a piece of popcorn on the boardwalk. That’s
what it felt like to him, anyway.
Within moments the girls had
started a tug-of-war and three out of three children were wailing. Frustrated, I
not-so-kindly excused the girls to their room where I could still hear them arguing
through the static of the baby monitor. I scooped up my tiny newborn in his
towel to calm him down.
As his lamb-like bleats slowed
to a whimper I found that I was crying, too.
How
on earth am I supposed to do this? I worried.
This and other overwhelming thoughts flooded my heart. I knew that feeling
overwhelmed was normal when one brings home a new baby. I knew that eventually
things would settle down around the house.
But the circumstantial affirmation
of “This, too, shall pass” had failed me before. I had experienced enough
seasonal difficulties in life to know that I needed a more solid rock to stand
on.
Is
there enough coffee in the world to keep me going? Can I just blackmail myself
to be thankful for what I have? Will pulling myself up by my bootstraps lift me
into being a more patient mother? I’m no
stranger to these thoughts.
Of course, I know that no
amount of medium-roast Columbian espresso can give me peace. As for the fruit
of coerced gratitude—it tastes as artificial as ethyl butyrate passed off as orange
juice.
But the bootstraps of moralism will
never break. Therein lies a great problem. Because if I muster my willpower to
be the godliest, most patient, most energetic, most discerning, most loving
mother that my prideful heart feels that I am, then the bootstraps of moralism will strangle me.
Lead me to the Rock
I need a promise more sure than
the transient hope that my circumstances could soon change.
I need a power with more energy
than the fleeting buzz I get from a power nap.
I need my heart to be purified
by a Refiner who is more capable than what my moralistic self-righteousness
fails to do.
Psalm
61:1-2 says,
“Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end of
the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is
higher than I.”
The truths in God’s word are
the rock that is higher than I. In the Bible I read how God’s grace has the
upper hand on my life—over my temporary circumstances and over my sin.
When I’m feeling overwhelmed by
life’s circumstances then I need to cry out to the Lord and ask him to lead me
to the rock that is higher than I.
We all need God’s grace, don’t
we? Whether you have a baby’s warm spit-up dripping down the back of your
shirt, or you’re trapped in the middle of office politics and you can’t see any
way out, or you’re not sure where next month’s rent is coming from, or you’re
stuck in traffic, or you’ve just lost your temper with a friend and “blown it”
again, or even if you honestly feel like
everything is going just fine. We all need to go to the rock.
Because of the gospel, God’s
sovereign grace in our lives is the singular, enduring circumstance in which we
live. God’s faithfulness shall never, ever
pass.
Richard Sibbes said that our faith in Christ is like an eagle flying
high in the sky. Faith can look up to see Christ there in heaven while also
looking down on the earth to see how Jesus is ruling over all things for our
good and for his glory.
When we cry out to our compassionate God and seek his face to find hope
then he shows us Jesus. Jesus is our steadfast hope! When our hope is in Christ
then we will never be put to shame as God’s love has been poured into our
hearts through the Holy Spirit (Rom. 5:5).
No matter if your background noise is the dull roar of chaos or a quiet
Saturday morning, we can sing together with the psalmist and the great cloud of
witnesses (Heb. 12:1) who have gone before us
and have tasted and seen that God is good!
“Oh,
magnify the Lord with me, and let
us exalt his name together! I sought the Lord,
and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him
are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed. This poor man cried, and
the Lord heard him and saved him
out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord
encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them. Oh, taste and see that
the Lord is good! Blessed is the
man who takes refuge in him!” (Ps. 34:3-8).
Gloria
Gloria Furman (@gloriafurman)
lives in Dubai with her husband Dave, a pastor at Redeemer Church of Dubai.
They have three young kids. Gloria is the author of Glimpses of Grace: Treasuring the Gospel in Your Home (Crossway,
2013) and blogs regularly for Domestic
Kingdom.







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Beautiful truth that I needed this morning. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThank you for this precious reminder.
ReplyDeleteamazing. you yet again remind me to fall at His feet, not pull myself up by my boot-straps.. and that psalm 34 passage has been my lifeline the past year. brings tears to my eyes, gloria... love, ali
ReplyDelete