For Young Mothers
The second Sunday in May is a wonderful day to slow down, break our normal routines, and celebrate the women who bore and raised us (or the women bearing and raising our children). It’s not the only day to honor mothers. That’s an exhortation in itself — for sons, daughters, husbands, dads (for this son, husband, dad).
But this morning, I want to talk directly to moms. And to all moms, to some degree, but especially to moms with young children. I know we have an unusual number of young moms in this church. I’ve seen you wrangling little ones in the conference room upstairs, or at the changing table, changing a diaper one-handed while trying to keep the 2-year-old from running off, or pacing in the back of the sanctuary until the baby falls asleep. I’ve seen you, and because we have three small ones of our own, I know some things about you (at least many of you).
I know, for instance, that you sleep less than you should, that your kids secretly conspire, deciding who will get up each night and when. I know you’ve cleaned up that same mess 483 times this week. I know that you often forget to eat because you’re too busy feeding everyone else. I know that right now, in one of your rooms, a pile of laundry is engaged in a slow and hostile takeover. I know there’s a hundred things you really, really want to do (some of them that you even need to do), and yet there’s never enough time. I know you lay down some nights seriously unable to imagine how you’ll do it all again tomorrow.
And I know, at times, you feel alone. Your husband may not always understand what you bear and endure. Your children certainly won’t understand. You may not even have friends, other moms, who understand (I hope you do). But I want to remind you again this morning — and I hope this still lands on you with all the weight and beauty and wonder it should, I hope this doesn’t feel cliché to you — someone understands you. Jesus sees and understands all that you carry and give as a mother. He gets it.
No, he was never married to a sinful, sometimes insensitive spouse. No, he didn’t carry a baby for nine months, or nurse them for another year, or have to brave the terrible two’s. But he gets it, he really gets it. If you can believe it, he gets it even better than you do.
We know this well by now, don’t we? Hebrews 4:15:
“We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.”
He knows your weakness. He knows how hard motherhood can be. And he knows — like fewer and fewer in our day seem to realize — that motherhood is some of the greatest, most miraculous work in all the world. He sees now what none of you can see yet, that the impact of these moments (in the conference room, at the changing table, pacing in the back; at the kitchen table, next to cribs, over tantrums) — the impact of these moments will last for centuries. They’re going to last forever.
Husbands should stretch ourselves to sympathize — to live with our wives in an understanding way. Children should learn to sympathize (in their own naïve, adorable, often unhelpful ways).
Friends should remember to sympathize and check in on each other. But young mom, one already sympathizes with you completely. And he doesn’t just sympathize with your weaknesses, he also went to the cross and died for your failures as a mother too.
My exhortation, mothers (and everyone else), is this: Re-see the beauty and everlasting glory of motherhood — and bring all your weaknesses to Jesus.