Abide, don’t strive

It’s coming up to 16 years since my mum was diagnosed with breast cancer. I still remember taking the call on my phone whilst we were holidaying in the Highlands of Scotland and the thing that struck me the most was how my mum in telling me the news, was still desperately trying to protect her (then 30 something year old) daughter.

I vividly remember a few weeks later praying for her the night before her surgery. I was trying so hard to keep it all together for me, my dad, my kids - and as I prayed, I felt I heard the words “Don’t strive, just be”.

I think I’m still trying to figure out what that really means a decade and a half later.

When my kids were younger and my days were full of wee people and the only 2 minutes I got to myself were in the loo (and even then, you’d often have a pair of eyes staring at you), I often struggled with the relentless mundaneness of life. I especially struggled with the first year of my eldest child’s life when I often felt the most exciting thing I did that day was walk to Tesco for some milk and back. I was sleep deprived and quite honestly felt like I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. It’s hard to believe she will be 21 this year and in so many ways I wish I could go back and tell myself as a young mum that feeding her and changing her and loving her and cuddling her was….enough.

I think I got better at relishing motherhood by the time my second came along. You probably have a bit more perspective by then, and are less eager to push them on to the next stage of their development. I particularly remember enjoying the few weeks when my youngest was able to sit up by herself but wasn’t able to crawl just yet. That time when you could put them down and know they’d be in the same spot when you came back! It didn’t last long.

I recently came across an old church newsletter that I had kept from that time in my life. In it, the youth leader had written something that I have cherished since. To set the scene, the previous week at church I had been playing in the worship band and at the end of the service there were quite a few folk who had come forward to ask for prayer.  The crèche had been let back in and as I looked up from the music in front of me I saw to my horror that my daughter was skipping and laughing in amongst them all. I was standing on the platform unable to do a thing, so I sought out my husband. As our eyes met across the crowded room he instantly interpreted my look (glare?) as ‘would you please do something about your daughter – now!!’  Anyway, the next week I read in the newsletter….

“Last Sunday I was deeply moved by the presence of God…the time of ministry and worship brought me to my knees in awe and tears last week.  But it was the ministry of a girl that impacted me the most – the simple joy of a girl’s giggle as she came up from crèche was God’s voice to me reminding me of how he wanted me to feel in his presence.  Pleasure.  Trust.  Sheer abandon.  It’s amazing what our Father can say in a child’s laugh.”

Lesson learned. Or was it?

I look back over the last 20 years and wonder how much energy I’ve spent carrying out roles and responsibilities, that I thought at the time were of value in God’s Kingdom, but in retrospect I’m now not so certain. I know I’ve been guilty in the past of feeling obligated because it was ‘the right thing to do’ only to have found myself, if not burnt out, then certainly resentful by the burden it became.

I’m now at a point in my life that if I hear myself saying ‘I really should….’ then I often stop myself from doing it.

I also wonder how much of my striving to serve has actually dampened God’s presence in my life - if not for others that I served - then for me?

4 “Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.

5-8 “I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is—when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples.

9-10 “I’ve loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you’ll remain intimately at home in my love. That’s what I’ve done—kept my Father’s commands and made myself at home in his love.

John 15:4-10 The Message

I get that I’m not meant to live this life independently, on my own strength. I understand that I need to be filled with God’s Spirit and love and find my identity in that before I can do anything for Him. I know that when I get that round the wrong way that’s when the striving kicks in. But my problem is that for some time I’ve struggled to find that connection, that feeding, that feeling of being ‘plugged in’, ‘at home in his love’ in the very place that I’ve been taught my whole life to find it - the church.

Perhaps just a stage I’m at, maybe one that will pass - but for now I find God’s presence in other disciplines and in nature, and I’ll continue to make myself at home in his love as I look for him in my day to day.

And in case any of you were wondering, my mum made a full recovery and still spends a lot of her week looking out for me (and my girls).