For the Mothers

Not your typical Mother's Day sermon

What sort of message might one preach on "Mother's Day"? As I am both a preacher and a mother, you would think I would know the answer to that question. But having been invited to preach such a message this past Mother’s Day, I realized … I did not.

From what I've seen over the years, it would seem normative to choose a biblical character, who was also a mother and tell her story, right? So I pondered a message about Eve, appointed the co-regent of a perfect cosmos, the mother of all humanity, her great gift was to bring new life into the world. Her name, ḥavah, literally means “life”! And Eve's mothering was designed in a world without the stop-the-world-I want-to get-off; do not tell-me-you-love-me-right now realities of labor and delivery. (Or the fifteen-year-old slamming her bedroom door shouting, “I hate you!” thing.) That would be a good sermon …

Or perhaps I should talk about Sarah? The beloved (and apparently totally hot) wife of Abraham. The fact that Sarah's journey toward motherhood involved decades of infertility—complicated by the shame of having failed to produce an heir for her very wealthy and very influential husband in a very tribal and traditional society—makes her story far too familiar to many. Do you know that Sarah pursued every medical intervention available in her time? And in each encounter wound up in exactly the same place—a dream that simply wouldn’t come true. But God … in his abundant grace, saw Sarah, as he sees us, and he transformed her grief with one, precious, child. And that long after she thought the game was over. Isaac’s name means “laughter,” and knowing these texts intimately, I am very suspicious that our "laughing child" might also have been a Downs syndrome child.

Or how about Rachel and Leah? Sisters, who due to their father’s failed character, wound up the wives of the same man. Yowza. Two women; one man. Two sisters; one husband. I can hardly get along with sisters who live two time zones away! Sharing the same man? No way! These difficult marriages, predictably, bread jealousy and bitterness. Each one's perception that the other wife, the other mom had something better than she had. And that bitterness poisoned not only their relationship, but the relationships of their children as well. Not that any of us have ever witnessed that dynamic ….

Or what of Moses’ mother, Yokebed? A woman who risked her life to keep her child alive. Hid him from a society that saw him as an inconvenience, a threat, unwanted and unvalued. A woman who sacrificially journeyed the entire path of pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding, sleepless nights, and loved her child enough to allow another woman to raise him. That is uncommon courage.

Or we could pause over my hero, Deborah. The Margaret Thatcher of Israel's early history. As I've spent a great deal of time teaching, she was a complete boss woman. Prophet, judge, commander-in-chief all rolled into one. But do you know that her most elevated title was “a mother in Israel”?

All of these women are in our Bibles for a reason. All of them are role models. And each of these women was a real women, who struggled with the impossible demands that mothers face every day. Be it the agonies of infertility or a loveless marriage. A really demanding professional life or a disabled child. A child who isn’t what you’d hoped they would be, or a relationship with a child that isn’t what you’d hoped it would be. And always the never-ending negotiations and compromises that a mother makes on an hourly basis regarding the demands on her time and resources.

So how did these women stay in the game? How do we stay in the game? My answer? By recognizing that they/we are not simply raising the next generation (which is like SUPER important by the way!) But by recognizing that in our parenting, we are actively building the Kingdom of God one little life at a time. And our sacrificial investment in our children's lives has eternal consequences. That would have been a good sermon.

You see, a child raised well, might just be the most powerful force on this planet. A child who knows what it means to be loved, and disciplined; a child who has been taught to work and rest; a child who is able to take the risks necessary to responsible adulthood, because they know they have a safety net. That is the sort of adult who has the sort of character to, literally, change the world.

Have we pondered the fact that when God needed to rescue the descendants of Abraham, helplessly enslaved by the Empire of Egypt, He sent a baby? Or the fact that when the forces of evil sought to destroy him before he could fulfill his calling, it was a mother who protected him? And when God needed to rescue his New Testament people, helplessly enslaved by the Empire of Sin and Death. He also sent a baby? And when the forces of evil sought to destroy him before he could fulfill his calling, it was a mother who protected him?

So, I could have preached that sermon. But then I decided, “Nah, I think I’m going to go a different direction.” And as a result, landed on a NT passage and a book.

The New Testament passage was Philippians 2:5-9.

“Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature, God, Did not consider equality with God
Something to be used to his own advantage. But instead he emptied himself
Becoming obedient unto death— even death on a cross. Therefore God highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name.”

The book I landed on was given to me in my first few weeks of motherhood--those weeks we all went into with an exquisitely decorated nursery and such a great birth plan. Those days when we had space in our worlds to work out and keep our pregnant little selves all cute and tidy … those days before your water broke early and you wound up in 27 hours of slow-moving, agonizing labor? (And if you're one of those superwomen who produced a human in three hours and have no idea what a "level four tear" is, I don't want to talk to you today.)

Yes, the first few weeks of motherhood when every inch of your body hurts. First from pushing a basketball-sized creature out of a tunnel designed for tangerines, and then finding out that the only way to feed that little salami with a soul involved the medieval torture known as ‘breastfeeding’—those days. It was during that time of profound physical exhaustion, and honestly more profound confusion as to who am I now, that one of my besties (and I’m so proud to say that bestie was a male colleague--Brent Strawn of Duke Divinity fame), gave me both a book and my sermon: The Birth of a Mother.

I love the title. Because the point of the title is to shift our attention away from the birth of a baby (obviously a wonderful thing), and talk instead about the (long-neglected) profound psychological and spiritual shift that occurs at the birth of a mother. At the heart of The Birth of a Mother is an arresting premise: Just as a baby develops physically in utero and after birth, so a mother is born psychologically in the many months that precede and follow the birth or adoption of her child. And I would add that a mother continues to be rebirthed with every stage through which her child passes. This book helped me to sort through the new realities of being a mother. Because when my baby was born, I was ushered into a new identity as well.

Can I tell you a bit about my story? Can I tell you I’d never been much of a girly girl, not terribly domestic, and I come from a train wreck of a family. My mother died when I was fifteen and my Dad threw me out when I was sixteen. So in my family of origin, mothering and parenting was not exactly a priority. Hence, I would not have been anyone’s lead candidate for the task of motherhood.

But in my Christian marriage, I so wanted to ‘break the cycle’ of that train wreck of a family. I wanted to build something better. And as only a newlywed can say without getting laughed out of town--I wanted to expand our circle of love. I think I had counted the cost, I think my motivations were good, so, we gave it a shot.

Now the combination of the train wreck family of origin and the PhD slowed things down a bit. Meaning that I found my husband in my thirties, not my twenties. And I had to get past General Exams before it was safe to reproduce. So when we finally got to that space where we started trying to make babies … well, we found out we couldn’t. For us, seven years of wrestling with that thing they call “infertility”—which is oh so much bigger a dragon than just physiology—miraculously, and completely unexpectedly resulted in a pregnancy that took over our world. Our baby shower? There was a tent involved.

So, there I am, in my second year of professoring, a “high risk” pregnancy, 27 hours of nasty labor, feeling like I'd just gone three rounds with Muhammad Ali, but AT LAST I had my sweet, baby girl in my arms. Her name is Noël because she was the most precious Christmas present ever given!

But thennnnn came the 23 months of not sleeping through the night, the fact that I was the first faculty member in the history of my institution to dare to reproduce, so things like maternity leave had not yet been invented. We were hundreds of miles from family on either side. So to make the story shorter, it was the pediatrician who actually taught me how to put on a diaper. And then there was the fact that Steve had just started his PhD; I was the chief breadwinner; and sweet Noël … well, she might be identified as one of those “high maintenance” babies!

But in those weeks, and all the weeks to come, I learned some things. I learned that the life-altering, universe-shifting, primal love that makes a mother a mother. The attachment that compels you to stay up all night doing everything in your power to comfort a baby with a fever, and when that same little human rears back and throws up in your face … in your eyes … in your mouth … and you find yourself concerned about her. A kind I did not even know existed before the birth of this mother.

Well team, that is not a love that grows from butterfly kisses and birthday cakes. It is a love born of sacrifice. Every mother knows that babies do not hug and giggle their way into our hearts, they carve out a bloody hole in our souls that for all eternity only they can fill. The love of a mother is the love that keeps you up until 2:00 am making valentines for the 3^rd grade party, even though you are fully aware that the final edits on your book are due at 5:00 pm on the same “tomorrow.” The love of a mother will transform a shy and retiring woman into a warrior, taking on the entire school board for the sake of her learning disabled child. The love of a mother accomplishes what under most conditions is impossible to the offspring of Adam: allowing my universe to be so re-arranged that I am no longer at its center … she is. And that is what makes a mother “a mother.”

And can I say out loud, that I would trade every degree I have ever earned, every book I’ve ever written, and every post I’ve ever filled for the vast privilege that is mine—Noël and Elise call me “Mom.”

So, if that is what a mother is, why do we celebrate mothers day with Hallmark cards and candy? I’m thinking that it is likely far more appropriate to celebrate with purple hearts! And although our fallen world is inclined to diminish the role of mothers, to tell her sacrifices are foolish, expecting her to accomplish her sacred trust in her “spare time” … You know, that same society that grimaces every time a Mom with a baby shows up on an airplane, or in a restaurant. A society that speaks of "stay at home moms" in hushed voices; "soccer moms" and "room mothers" as though that’s a bad thing. May I make another proposal to you? And that is that the act of mothering—in whatever fashion God has brought mothering into your world—is likely the most Christ-imitating activity human-beings ever engage in?

Why do I say that? Let's circle back to our passage. The words of the Apostle Paul in the book of Philippians. Paul is in prison, again. This time in Rome. And although this time he is only under "house arrest," know that life in any Roman prison in the 1^st century was dark and dirty and dangerous. And if you did not have friends on the outside, it would cost you your life. Paul has friends on the outside, so he is writing to his beloved community in Philippi, 1200 miles away, a Roman military town in what we would know as northeastern Greece. And here he is pleading with those he loves to recognize that a life lived in the imitation of Christ will be a life of self-sacrifice and suffering. But that this suffering, when embraced with joy and humility for the cause of the Kingdom, results in a life worthy of the Gospel.

And we're all nodding. Thinking, "Well, yes of course Paul is saying these things. He's an apostle and that's what Christian faith is all about!" But can I point out that this message was likely JUST as counter cultural and unpopular in Paul's day as it is in ours? That the faithful in Philippi, just like us, were trying to live out their faith with as little suffering as possible? That their version of the Sermon on the Mount was much like John Guerra's "American Gospel"?

Blessed are powerful;
blessed are the rich;
blessed are the merciless and the hypocrites …
Blessed are the super stars,
blessed are the famous;
blessed are the ones who make their faces ageless;
they will inherit the magazine covers of the American Gospel.

But our man Paul offers the antidote.

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit," Paul says. "Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." Phil 2:3-4

This, Paul tells us, is what real Kingdom living looks like. BUT WHO ACTUALLY LIVES THIS WAY?!

Paul goes on:

“Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature, God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage. But instead he emptied himself.” Phil 2:5-7

In case you don't recognize it, this is the great “Christological Hymn” of
Philippians 2. Many believe that Paul is reciting a piece that his audience already knows. A creed of sorts that they had likely rehearsed many times. A "collect" reminding all of us what it looks like to imitate our Master in this broken world, such that we might ¹⁵“shine like stars … in a broken and perverse generation.”

Theologically, this hymn rehearses one of the essential declarations of our Christian faith: the two natures of Christ—divine and human. Jesus, who in his humanity (what we call the incarnation) was “in his very nature God,” emptied himself. Or if you head back to Paul's source text in Isa 53:12, “poured himself out” (like a drink offering), in order to rescue us from our own rebellion. Folks, this hymn is the Gospel. God has died for man.

And although the sacrifice of the Christ is unrepeatable. We, as his people, are being called to IMITATE this posture. My husband likes to say it this way: "the way down, is the way up."

This way down is what has been modeled to us by the one whose name we claim. "Live this posture!" Paul says. "Bring the Kingdom," Paul says! And here is the point: Is there anyone in our worlds who willing embraces this posture of abandoning "selfish ambition" and valuing another above myself, not looking to my own interests but promoting the interests of others … more than a Mom? And might it be time for we, the Church, to look toward this incarnational representation of the sacrificial love of our God with the honor it deserves? The women of our world who have put their own lives on hold so that another life could begin. Those who are living their lives, hourly, in a posture of self-sacrifice. Those who have embraced suffering as the road to life? Who have chosen to "build something better" by embodying the "new thing" that breaks the cycle of death?

So, to the Moms out there … First to the new Moms, who likely are feeling completely overwhelmed with the task at hand. Who knew that those seven little pounds of sovereignty could turn your world into complete chaos?! Those wondering if you jumped too soon. Was it worth the cost? Who AM I now? Hang in there. Not only will it get better, but the task you have chosen is a sacred trust, well worth the cost.

To the mid-journey Moms who may find themselves saying, “Dear God where is the line between my needs and their needs? How is my marriage ever going to survive this? Will I ever get back to my dreams?!” Know that "¹³it is God who works in you to will and to work in order to fulfill his good purpose" and your "¹⁶labor is not in vain." He is faithful. There is a line in there somewhere; you’ll find it!

And for those of you who can see the first finish line—your emerging adult is sprinting toward adulthood and it looks like we’re going to make it! Congratulations!! Mission accomplished! But for those others, living right here, right now with a failed launch. And instead of starting his first job, he’s starting his third rehab program. And everything you’ve invested in just seems to be crumbling in front of you. Please hear me on this, your God is a God of second chances, and your labor is not in vain. Your labor is not in vain. “¹³It is God who works in you to will and to work according to his good purpose." And although we do indeed "work out our own salvation with fear and trembling" (translation: I blew it yesterday, I'm going to do better today), reality is that God's ultimate ambition in our lives is that we might "¹⁵become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe” and that is what your current suffering is accomplishing in your soul. My prayers are with you.

Folks, mothering well is in no way an easy task. But Moms, to mother is in every way to build the Kingdom of God. And contrary to the messages of our current generation, it is not a secondary task, designed to be tucked into the edges of our overflowing lives. It is the task. Stay the course. Finish the race. Run it well. And, friends, with all of my heart, "Happy Mother’s Day!"