Yesterday, in this post I talked about how being a stay-at-home mama caused your world to become smaller.
And the reaction was just what I was hoping for. Because I knew that "Part 2" was coming.
Many people responded with encouragement (thank you!), and many more reminded me that I had baby #2 on the way, and perhaps it was good for my world to be small. That perhaps narrowing my focus to just my family was appropriate...
And to a certain extent, I agree. My life is about to radically change. Two babies under 13 months is not exactly a recipe for tackling huge mountains in the world. While I'm standing by yesterday's post, and I still think it is incredibly important to constantly turn my eyes outwards, to constantly seek to interact with others, to not allow myself to become selfish, I will admit you all are right. I will have two very young children. My life will, per necessity, have a certain "smallness" to it.
Ah, but my friends, here's where I would argue: should my world ever really, truly be small?
Several years ago I attended a conference expecting to hear Joni Eareckson Tada. At this point in time in my life, I was battling massive health problems (again), and was feeling chronically demoralized by the limitations of my energy and health. Seeing Joni, hearing Joni, listening to a woman who has battled the physical world and gleaned so much fruit in the spiritual realm, was just what my heart was longing for.
But she didn't come.
Joni was in the throws of a battle with breast cancer. And then she developed pneumonia.
Good grief, Lord. The woman is already paralyzed. Couldn't you have spared her the cancer? Or maybe just the pneumonia? How much does one person have to take?!
She did record a video. As it clicked on, I was very disappointed. I wanted to hear Joni, not listen to her in some disconnected way. But God had different plans, and He used this testimony powerfully. My broken heart and tired body found new strength... Because this is what she said:
Especially in the night when it's dark here lately. When I lie in bed . . . As you can imagine, being paralyzed, gravity is my enemy, and I can feel so claustrophobic. Yes, from the paralysis, but now here lately from the uncomfortable side effects of chemotherapy. But lying in bed awake at 2:00 a.m., I remember something that helps me to endure. I learned it long ago when I was first hospitalized after my diving accident back in 1967. And it has served me so well these many years.
It's Ephesians 3:10. Now listen to this. This is so key. This is so critical. It says there that,
[God's] intent is now, through the church [that's you and me, through us], the manifold wisdom of God is made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms.
Okay, let me paraphrase it. Because it says there that God wants to use our lives—your life and mine—as black boards upon which He chalks marvelous lessons about Himself for the benefit of millions and millions of unseen beings. Angels, even demons, are intensely interested in the way I respond to my afflictions because it teaches them something about God.*
Listen to that.
Read it again.
And again.
Let it soak into your soul.
Every moment, every battle, every choice, every word, every thought... every. single. response. you. make. It portrays GOD. It shows the Creator of the universe. It highlights a glory, a picture, a story, that we won't see until the very end. You are constantly, without fail, without break, without rest performing for an audience that is bigger, grander, and more powerful than any you could imagine here on this earth.
And stay-at-home mamas? That means us, too.
When you're wiping up peanut butter... and you do it cheerfully although it feels like it never comes off the high chair tray.
When you're disciplining with consistency... patiently although you've already taught this lesson a hundred times today.
When you're reveling in bath time... and delighting in the joys of your child, although you have a million things on your to-do list.
When you're cooking yet another dinner... thankful for the hubby that is coming home.
When you speak graciously, kindly, gently. When you complete the same task over, and over, and over again with joy. When you laugh at chaos and a disrupted schedule. When you sing as you go around your work. When you stop and pray over the little troubles. When you pour out your heart over a sink full of bubbles. When you cry with a friend. When you rejoice with others' success. When exhaustion doesn't dictate your response. When fatigue crowds in, but you still choose gentleness.
When your life is characterized by ceaseless patience, joy, and thankfulness...
You are proclaiming: MY GOD IS ENOUGH! MY GOD IS GLORIOUS! MY GOD IS WORTHY!
And thousands, upon thousands, upon thousands are watching you.
In the middle of the night. All alone. Surrounded by little ones. Those thousands watch you. And they learn...
Because, without the accolades, without the acclaim, without the publicity of this world, you are choosing to bring glory to God. You are making Him the reason for your joy and peace. The very nature and character of God are all you need. That's it.
And someday, when we reach heaven, I suspect that those quiet moments of victory over impatience, fatigue, and selfishness will be worth more than we could possibly imagine.
Fight for those small glories.
My world may be small. But the possibilities for proclaiming God's glory are endless.
A very special truth which I need to be reminded of over and over.
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