An Act of Worship

This post is from a dear friend, Natalya. Many of you will remember her from her time working with me on Strength & Song. She is expecting her third little boy very soon, and she has humbly sought the Lord’s guidance on how she views pregnancy. I hope you are as blessed as I was reading her words!

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So often, it is easy to view worship as something we reserve for singing of songs or prayer. But worship is an attitude of the heart – “These people draw near to Me with their mouth, and honor Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me. And in vain they worship Me…” Matthew 15:8-9a. I could be singing my heart out, eyes closed and arms raised, and my heart could very well be far from Him.

A few months ago, as I began planning the arrival of our third baby, I desired to view the entire birth as an act of worship to the Lord. So often we view birth as a scary, painful, and unpleasant thing to get over with so we can have our baby safe in our arms. I don’t want to have that mindset this time around – I want to intentionally lean in to the Lord and experience the miracle of birth as a form of worship to the Sustainer and Author of life. Preparing for the birth has changed from simply making sure I have all the supplies I need and arrangements made to praying about how I can incorporate scripture and praise into the time of labor, how can I and those in the room supporting me have a mindset of worshipful peace and awe of the Lord.

Praying through this has led to conviction. I have had a doozy of a pregnancy. From the very beginning, I have suffered from numerous complications that have crippled me physically, mentally, and emotionally. When I became pregnant, I was at the healthiest physical state I have ever been, and going from that to feeling broken and empty and so very helpless despite my best efforts has been demoralizing and humbling. I realized through the Holy Spirit that I have been viewing the birth as something to worshipfully surrender to the Lord, but the pregnancy itself as something to get through and bemoan and even detest. Is that a heart of worship? God is sovereign. He could have given me a blissful, enjoyable maternity experience. I would have praised His name. He chose not to. Does that mean He is less worthy of my praise? Indeed not.

My prayer is that I will take this conviction, repent of my lack of worship in the midst of suffering, and move forward in this pregnancy with a heart of worship and awe at the goodness of God, despite the trials of life. My body may be failing me in so many ways, but God will never fail me! His strength is enough.

My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart;
He is mine forever.
Psalm 73:26

Ask the Lord to search your heart and bring to light areas that you are withholding from Him. What in your life are you failing to offer to the Lord in worship? Is it your marriage? Your relationships? Parenting? Your career? It is simple to change that mindset. I pause and humble my heart before Him and pray, “Lord, how can I bring you glory in this situation/season/circumstance? Show me how to have a heart of worship even though this is something I don’t want to have in my life right now. Please turn it into something that can be used for Your glory and to further Your kingdom. You are worthy.”

For a biblical understanding of what worship is, I recommend reading this article from John Piper.

The inner essence of worship is to know God truly and then respond from the heart to that knowledge by valuing God, treasuring God, prizing God, enjoying God, being satisfied with God above all earthly things. And then that deep, restful, joyful satisfaction in God overflows in demonstrable acts of praise from the lips and demonstrable acts of love in serving others for the sake of Christ.
John Piper

An Aching Womb: A Note From a Single Woman

As I picked up the limp, sleeping body of the sweet four-year-old girl, tears began to fill my eyes and I thought, “will this ever be my life?”

Those moments are few and far between for me, which is good, because I’m a nanny and if picking up a child always made me cry I would probably need to find a new career. The most recent occurrences have been while watching four specific kiddos. This has happened twice now, both times when I was putting the little girl to bed. One time she was awake, and another she’d fallen asleep early on the couch. Both times caught me by surprise, especially since in addition to being a nanny, I’ve been an aunt most of my life and serve in the kids ministry at my church, so it’s not like I’m not around kids often enough to be reminded I don’t have any. But there was something about tucking four kids into bed, in the style of house I’d love to own someday, that hit me in the feels. To you mamas, it probably feels extremely ordinary and maybe even a bit of a chore at times. No doubt there are times you look at your peacefully sleeping children and also get teary eyed; grateful, happy tears of love for the little life that’s been entrusted to you, but I’m sure other times you’re just exhausted and would love a break and for someone else to put the children to bed. But for me, someone who has always wanted to be a mom, it sometimes feels like a dream unfulfilled and withheld.

For the past year or so I’ve been wanting to do a Biblical word study on children, because I think we have such a selfish idea of them in this day and age. I look around at my own culture, and even among Christians, there seems to be a very self-centered approach to parenting. The emphasis is on what “we’ want, when “we” want, what “we” can afford, what “we” have the patience for, where “we” want to live, the vacations “we” want to take, the life “we” want to give our children. Children are seen as a blessing, (although the attitude for many seems to be, “as long as you don’t have more than four because that’s just ridiculous and irresponsible.”) but do we really consider them ordained by God and uniquely designed? Have we even entertained the thought of allowing God to determine how large our families grow to be? Or if we should also expand them through adoption? Before you freak out, this isn’t a post about birth-control and I’m not here to tell you you’re wrong if you are taking precautions, or if you aren’t pursuing adoption, but I am serious in posing those questions. Are these things you’ve surrendered to Christ -completely- and sense His peace and leading in your decisions? Or are they based only on your own wants and preferences? In a culture that puts so much value on education and careers and has increasingly diminished the sacrifice and beauty of stay-at-home moms, while turning their nose up at large families, have we begun to believe what the world says about children? Or do we remember and hold to what the Word says?

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them.” -Psalm 127:3-5

“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” -Mark 9:37

“But Jesus called them to him, saying, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.’” -Luke 18:16

“He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!” -Psalm 113:9

“So I would have younger widows marry, bear children, manage their households, and give the adversary no occasion for slander.” -1 Timothy 5:14

“And when Esau lifted up his eyes and saw the women and children, he said, ‘Who are these with you?’ Jacob said, ‘The children whom God has graciously given your servant.’” -Genesis 33:5

Psalm 139 highlights the intimacy with which God knows us, long before we are born. Science speaks to our miraculous being, through what we know about DNA and how each child is unique and reflects the specific egg and sperm connection. The same combination of sperm and egg can never repeat. Of course, you have multiples that can form from the same egg and sperm (which is another awesome miracle in of itself!), but aside from identical multiples, each unique set of DNA cannot repeat and an egg only gets one shot per month of teaming up with sperm to begin developing into a human. It’s so fascinating! It’s one of the biggest reasons I’m Pro-Life and why abortion breaks my heart. It’s part of why miscarriage, even at the earliest stages of pregnancy, is devastating. It’s not just a clump of cells that is lost, it’s a unique little person that the family will never get to hold, kiss, smell or know, this side of eternity.

Lately, I’ve been realizing that although my life isn’t going according to my plan, if I am going to have children they will be according to HIS plan; the children He has ordained for me to have. He is the giver of life, knows how many eggs I have in my ovaries, and exactly which ones, if any, will be fertilized. They would be knit together by Him, not me, in His perfect timing. His time frame is so much bigger than mine; He is the author of time. He is over time. I can trust Him with my life, dreams, and certainly my maternal clock.

Remember that when you look into the faces of your own little miracles. Maybe they were unplanned, maybe they didn’t come as soon as you’d hoped, but if they hadn’t come in the precise moment they did you never would’ve had them. Their DNA would’ve been discarded in your monthly cycle. All of the character traits that give them their attributes and personality would not be the exact same had you conceived a different egg, fertilized at a different time.

If you feel like you’re drowning in children, in over your head and questioning why God made you so fertile, remember: children are a blessing and God has been so incredibly gracious to entrust these miracles to your care. It’s hard, it’s overwhelming, it’s a lot - but it’s not too much. God doesn’t make mistakes, children aren’t accidents and His grace is sufficient.

Sometimes I put my hand over my physically and figuratively aching womb and ask God if it will ever hold a child. If this longing that’s been deep inside my bones for as long as I can remember will be fulfilled biologically, only through adoption, or if it was put their by God for a purpose other than my own motherhood. Maybe it was to have the passion to help other families, to nanny well or maybe even someday to have an orphanage. Whatever the long-term purpose, for now this passion is reminding you what a blessing children are and that being a mother is hard, beautiful, creative, biblical, sanctifying, messy, honorable, feminine, sacrificial, weighty, courageous and so worth it. I think we could all stand to be reminded of that.

Written for Strength & Song by Veronica Leguire. Veronica is a full-time nanny and prolife advocate who lives in Toledo, OH.

The Mama Fight

It was probably something I ate. At seven months pregnant the pain in my abdomen doubled me over and all I could imagine was a monstrous, horrible gas attack. But after a few hours and no relief, my nervous husband Mike called our midwife and she ordered us to meet her at the hospital.

We were terrified.

This is back in 1985 and we were baby Christians, having been saved a little more than a year. We didn’t have a strong foundation of faith yet and we had no idea what was happening to us and our baby so we did the only thing we knew. We called the woman who had led us to the Lord and she got her church praying for us.

Since I was a little girl, my goal was to become a mother and have at least five kids. In fact, Mike and I planned on a messy, noisy houseful of children but God had a different plan. A second pregnancy turned ectopic (tubal) and we lost the baby and all future fertility. Four failed adoption attempts later we got the memo. It took a while to accept we would have only one child but eventually we saw God’s hand and will in what seemed to be the death of our dreams. But that’s a whole other story.

Anyway, back to the hospital. No one had a clue what was wrong with me. Appendicitis? Premature labor? Indigestion? Virus?

I was having some contractions so they hooked me up to the monitor. Doctors came in and out, poking and prodding and examining me. Fear was palpable in that hospital room. We didn’t know if our baby was a boy or a girl (this was thirty-three years ago) but that terrifying night in the hospital, when we didn’t know if our baby would live or die, I learned the first lesson of being a mother.

No matter what the circumstances, whether you understand what’s happening or not, a mother will fight for her child. She will do whatever it takes to give that baby a chance. Love takes over amid the desperation and she takes her stand and stands her ground.

For awhile they really thought it was appendicitis and I’d have to have my appendix out. If it would save the baby, then fine, just do it. Whatever the cost. Just save my baby.

I didn’t know about taking thoughts captive or casting down vain imaginations. I didn’t know that we ‘fight the good fight’. I just knew I had to fight. So I prayed and I feared…but I prayed. Mike prayed. We prayed together. We begged God for a miracle.

In the end, it wasn’t appendicitis and the doctors never could figure out what was wrong with me. The contractions stopped and the pain subsided and all they could say was that it was an “anomaly” which is doctor speak for “we don’t have a clue”.

We headed home, worn out but relieved. Two months later, (ten days past her due date), our daughter Francesca was born, all eight pounds, ten ounces of her.

I had no experience with babies. Seriously, none at all. But I learned. God sent me wonderful mama mentors in those days. I made plenty of mistakes but one thing never changed. I never stopped fighting or standing for my baby girl. Fighting in faith, fighting my own doubts and fears, fighting in prayer, standing in the gap, fighting for her future.

Franny’s all grown now with a husband and family of her own. I adore her four babies with everything in me. I love being Mimi and I love playing with them and buying them way too much stuff. When I’m with them my goals are to make cupcakes, make laughter and make memories. And to model a love for God that makes them want to love Him too.

But in the secret place, the place they don’t see, the sacred place of prayer, I fight. I fight for their future, I fight for their destiny. I take God at His word and I fight the good fight of faith. The fight of belief. And I stand my ground.

The weapons of my warfare? Love. Because that’s how we mamas do it.

Written by Kate Battistelli, author of Growing Great Kids-Partner with God to Cultivate His Purpose in Your Child’s Life, published by Charisma House. Her newest book, The God Dare, published by Barbour Books, will release in 2019. She’s mom to GRAMMY award-winning artist Francesca Battistelli and Mimi to her 4 children. She’s been married to her best friend Mike for 35 years and lives just outside of Nashville. Kate loves to cook and blogs about food and faith at www.KateBattistelli.com You can follow her on Instagram, Pinterest, Twitter, and Facebook.

When You Feel Like A Less-Than Mother

“Lara, I think you’ve lost some weight.”

My mother-in-law’s words were a stake in my heart, though I know they were never meant to be. I finished zipping my jacket over my tiny baby bump. “Really? Maybe it’s just this jacket making it look that way,” I lied.  

She verbalized the fear I had pushed away all week. I’m not gaining the weight I’m supposed to.

Nine weeks into pregnancy, morning sickness came. Though I had not thrown up yet, each morning I was greeted with nausea that stayed with me all day. For most, this would be considered easy—at least you aren’t throwing up everything you try to eat. But for me, the mere thought of vomiting was crippling.

My fears of throwing up are what started my life-long journey of anxiety. After my first experience with the flu as a young girl, the thought of vomiting gave me a visceral reaction.  I would collapse into panic attacks—crying, screaming, sweating, shaking—anytime my stomach began to get that gurgling feeling. This fear became so strong that at times I refused to eat at all so I wouldn’t have something in my stomach to throw up.

The car ride with my mother-in-law was quiet as I nibbled a saltine. This is not what I pictured pregnancy to be like. Pregnancy was supposed to be exciting, full of pleasant surprises and sweet kicks in my belly. Instead, mine was filled with misery—reminders of the anxiety I had yet to conquer 15 years later as a grown woman. I felt like a weak child again, helpless to a fear that still held me in its grips.

God, why can’t I be free from this, even still? I prayed to myself, wondering and questioning with each silent plea: If I can’t conquer this anxiety, am I really ready for motherhood? How will I raise a courageous child, who can trust God in the unknown, meanwhile I still fight against this anxiety?

Momma, are you afraid that you don’t have it “together enough” to be a mom? Do you already feel like a failure when you see the put-together moms around you? Do you look at their perfectly still children sitting in the pews and feel like giving up?

Aside from my fears of throwing up, I have many other reasons to feel like a failure compared to my fellow mom friends. But God is giving me a new hope in him, and teaching me to stop looking around at others and start looking at him.

The Joy-Robbing Comparisons

It is a gift to be in a church with fellow mothers who love God and desire to raise their children according to his Word. It’s a joy to come alongside of them and to learn from their years of mothering, both by discussion and simply watching. We see in Titus 2 that this is God’s good intentions for the women in the body of Christ—that the older women would disciple and teach the younger.

“Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.” (Titus 2:3-5 ESV).

Sadly, we have the tendency to turn that joyful gift into despairing heartache by comparing rather than learning. Rather than looking up to these women, we begin to despise and envy them in our hearts because we do not measure up. We compare our children, our words, our methods, and our choices to see whether we did better or worse. This creates for competition rather than fellowship, and exhausted sadness rather than joy.

This is what our sinful hearts are inclined to do. But we must train them according to God’s Word. Rather than giving way to despairing comparison, we should strive to learn from one another as God intended, and encourage one another in Christ. It’s not a competition but a relay race of passing the baton to the next generation, cheering on those who are still running, and learning from those who have years of training under their belts.

The Only Life-Giving Comparison

There is only one we should be comparing ourselves to in every aspect of our journey: Christ. Comparing ourselves to other women can lead to pride. But when we compare ourselves to Christ, we see ourselves rightly: An imperfect sinner who can never measure up. We realize that no matter how hard we strive, we will never meet his standard of perfection. Maybe with enough striving we could come close to matching our friends, but we will never match Christ in his blamelessness.

Instead of despair, this comparison should bring us joy as we remember the gospel. Christ died for imperfect people. He died for moms who would yell at their children, who would become annoyed with their chatter, and who would make poor choices. He died for sinful women like us. And he rose again, paving the way for us to rise to new life with him. He lived, died, and rose in perfection because we could not. And though we are totally undeserving of it, he accredits his righteousness to our account, as if we lived it.

When we trust in Jesus’ work on the cross and repent of our sins, he renews our hearts and give us the Holy Spirit so that we can obey him. Our new desire is not to strive to look like that put-together mom in the pew in front of us, but to look like Christ in order to glorify him.

If you are stuck in the game of comparison among the women in your church, remember the gospel. Preach this to your heart. Begin comparing yourself to Christ. In every aspect of your parenting, your goal is not to look like your friends, but to look like Christ. To lead your child gently as Christ leads the church. To teach them to repent of their sins and turn to Christ. This is your goal, momma.

The Sweet Tension

I stared out the window of the car, watching the evergreens pass by.

There was a sweetness to this tension of still struggling with my anxiety even now as a soon-to-be mom. As much as I hated the fear and wanted to be free from it, it was a constant reminder that I will never be a perfect mom. There’s no “getting it together” before baby comes. I am a weak and sinful human being who will always struggle, and so will my sweet baby. In those times of weakness, my baby doesn’t need a put-together-mom. My baby will need Jesus. And in spite of my own limitations and how much carrying a baby has reminded me of them, my anxiety has also been the reminder that in all my imperfections, I can point my baby to the Perfect Saviour.

Originally written for Strength & Song by Lara d’Entremont.