A Holy Work

Today was one of those days.

Nothing catastrophic happened.  I did just the usual amount of laundry, got spit up on the usual number of times.  The baby cried just as much as she usually does.  But today it all bothered me more than usual.  Today, my sinful heart rebelled.

I didn’t want to scrub stains out of this shirt again.  I didn’t want to have to change my clothes again.  I didn’t want to be interrupted again.

Today, my heart went wandering.  When I was a nurse, at least I got paid to be vomited on.  I had adult conversations.  People respected me.  I was appreciated, I thought.

Today, the work of being a mom didn’t feel stimulating or meaningful.  I wanted to feel appreciated, but my three-month-old never said thank you.  I wanted to feel like this work, this daily grind, was really important, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that whether I did it or not, it would still be here tomorrow anyway, and no one would know the difference.

So I asked God to help me see my calling of service as He sees it, and I was reminded of the story in Mark 10 where James and John request to sit next to Jesus in Paradise.  Listen to what Jesus says to them:

“You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them.  But it shall not be so among you.  But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.  For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10: 42-45)

Christ’s work was to serve those whom He had created.  Perhaps Jesus didn’t do their laundry, but wait!  He washed their feet.  Perhaps they didn’t spit up on Him, but they spat on Him as He laid down His life for them.

Our very Creator humbled Himself and came not to be served, but to serve.  He left His throne on high, lived amidst our stench, bore our guilt, and died for us.  Love came down.

And He calls us, each of us, to do the same.

The work of motherhood is holy.  Not just the teaching and discipling our children, but also the doing dishes and wiping noses and picking up toys.  It is not holy because of the skill required to complete the task, but because of the humility required.  The more I have to lay down my pride, the more I have to become a servant, the more He sanctifies my work and me through it.

This work is important.  Through it, I become a servant, and that is exactly what He has called me to be.  Is it always noticed and appreciated by my family?  No.  Does it always make me feel fulfilled?  No.  But if I submit to His Spirit, he uses it to bring to completion this good work He has begun in me.  And that is what this life is all about.

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