Give me Jesus

So in the world of the elite, the big kerfluffle has been that a high powered woman has written a long article entitled Why Women Still Can't Have It All. By all, she means a prestigious work position and a satisfying family life. This kicked off a lot of discussion all over and some of it is collected here. I really liked my friend's personal response. She reflects on her own personal experiences and begins her final paragraph with this sentence, "Jesus never said we could have it all."

That crystallized my thinking on the matter. Not only did Jesus never say we could have it all, he said, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up the cross daily and follow me. (The good news according to Luke, chpt 9)”

I just read a novel set in World War I. It presented many leaders as selfish and incompetent causing many of their followers to suffer and die needlessly. Eventually, some simply stopped following. Jesus is the antithesis of these leaders, selfless and masterful.

Following, by definition, involves giving up some control because someone else is leading. Jesus doesn't gloss over this. He baldly told his hangers on, "Hey, if you decided to hitch on to my wagon train, you're going to have to give up what you want and you're going to take on a tortured death symbol (the cross)."

What separates Jesus from every other leader is that he is the rightful leader--as creator of the universe--and the good leader--as a loving omnipotent father.

So "How can I have it all?" or even "How can I have as much as possible?" is really the wrong question. The better question is, "Where does Jesus want me?" The best place we can be is wherever Jesus is taking us.

As an aside, that was my consolation when I was living overseas and got into a bus that had just slid a 100 yds on ice to a stop at my bus stop. I figured that if God had brought me there, he knew about crazy buses and ice and that I'd need them to get  to my work, and he'd take care of things from there.

So yes, I have been grieving many of the professional changes that motherhood has brought on, but I have not regretted the changes. For me, that's been part of denying myself, taking up my cross, and following Jesus. I read about a doctor mom who left her 9 month-old stateside to spend time setting up a clinic overseas. That kind of self-denial, cross-bearing, and following is something I hope I would never have to face. But she did it, she bore those costs trusting in the Jesus she was following.

In the end, perhaps what we may realize is that we have the most profound richness in life when we are most deeply entrenched in Jesus-life. And isn't that what we really want, to live rich, meaningful lives?

A college friend introduced me to Fernando Ortega's song, Give me Jesus. It's repetitive, but the meditation and plea is the substantive rebuttal to "How can I have it all?"

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus

Chorus:
Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus

When I am alone
When I am alone
When I am alone, give me Jesus

[Chorus]

When I come to die
When I come to die
When I come to die, give me Jesus

I am one of the dead

The past couple months have been a rough time. Not only have I felt stretched physically, particularly as I've been smacked with 3rd trimester fatigue, but emotionally, I've felt barely able to hang on. In this frame of mind, I encountered the Apostle Paul talking about his rough time in his second letter to believers in Corinth:

...this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers.
~Chpt 1

As I've been meditating on these verses, I feel my faith is being pivotally changed under the gentlest care of a loving God.

During this rough time, it has become crucially apparent that I am powerless to solve the problems in and around my life. I am one of the dead. The natural processes in me are corruption and decay. Even if I wanted to I could not grit my teeth and make stuff happen; be holier, love better, trust God more. But in Christ, I experience life. I am one of the dead who is being raised to life by God. My part is to submit to that reality--I think that's what hope is--and there I find that I am indeed delivered, I am being delivered, and look forward to continued deliverance.

I think this experience is another reason why 2011 needs to more about "doing less". The cultural influences around me--my profession, the productivity/finance blogs I read, my church community--place a high value on getting things measurably done. I think there's an appropriate place for action and tangible accomplishment, but in this season, I think a mindset of "doing less" will allow me to better see and experience how "I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." If you're a praying person, I would appreciate your prayers during this time.

Between a rock and a hard place

"Being a mother is hard."

I remember thinking that before I became a mother from watching my friends around me have children. I think mostly the issue was that they were enormous and pondering before they disappeared for a couple months and when they reappeared they looked tired.

"Being a mother is hard."

I feel this now as a mother. The first couple months, it was probably mostly the tired thing that came from frequent feedings around the clock and painfully engorged breasts. But that phase is a distant memory. L sleeps relatively well, and I now get to sleep through most of the night. Feedings are a breeze, both solids and nursing. What's hard is that I feel torn between attending to her and my work.

The trick is that I feel like I shouldn't feel that being a mother is hard because the physical stuff isn't hard anymore. Yea, I have to attend to L's physical needs: food, clean diapers, warm clothes, a safe place to sleep, but really it's her emotional needs of wanting attention and affection that tear at me. I'd rather be writing or reading. Can't she just sit with me and let me do that? We'd still be together, you know?

This past week my husband and I read through the end of the Gospel of Matthew where Jesus talks about the signs of his second coming and the end of the age. And here (Matthew 24), he talks about how at that end time those who are in Judea flee to the mountains… and in that fleeing How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers!…For then there will be great distress, unequaled from the beginning of the world until now… In all the dreadfulness, pregnant women and nursing mothers are the only named category of people; they are singled out for particular difficulty. That has always struck me as kind of unfair, but this week, I agree.

Pregnant women and nursing mothers not only must keep themselves alive but also are the literal lifeline for their child. You might think that nursing mothers are a somewhat different case than pregnant women but their children also depend on them and not just for physical but also emotional care. Children can nurse into toddlerhood even after they can eat solid foods which suggests to me that their nursing isn't just for physical sustenance but also emotional connection. Reports from orphanages where children were fed but not tended to help us see how important emotional care is for proper development and survival.

Looking at this passage, why are pregnant women and nursing mothers in desperate straights in times of trouble? Because they cannot be substituted for. No matter the upheaval in the world around, no matter how desperate the fleeing, that mother has to care for that child or the child is not likely to survive.

For moms and probably new moms in particular, it is easy to feel a lot of guilt and then to feel guilt for feeling guilt. This text helps me to realize, new motherhood is hard. Not that new motherhood is insurmountably hard and for most of us, it'll never be fleeing from destruction hard. It's a special kind of, special stage of hard. I don't need to beat myself up for not feeling like this is smooth sailing even though I've had great support from family and friends and I get to work at home. And I can remind myself that eventually, I won't be a nursing mother and I'll be out of that special category.

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This post is part of an ongoing series I am writing along with the author of On Expecting