Am I Doing Enough for God?

“Do you ever feel like you’re not doing enough for God? Do you ever feel guilty, like you should be working harder for him?”

Many of the ladies in my Sunday School class nodded in response to the questions. Our teacher had struck a chord that resonated with us.

We were studying 2 Samuel, and in chapter 7 we read how David had a plan to do something wonderful for God. He would build God a house. David’s desire to do this work for God flowed out of his love and worship for God.

But God’s response to David’s desire to serve him gives us insight into the way of the Lord with his children. Through the prophet Nathan, God asks David, “Would you build me a house to dwell in?…Did I speak a word…saying, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’”

Later, David’s son Solomon would build him a house, but for now, God wanted David to understand what kind of a God he was — and it wasn’t a God who needed David to build him a house.

God says in Isaiah 66:1-2,
“Thus says the LORD; ‘Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool; what is the house that you would build for me, and what is the place of my rest? All these things my hand has made, and so all these things came to be,’ declares the LORD. ‘But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.”

And oh, God did look! God looked to David, replying to him in a way that said, You want to build ME a house? Oh no, no, no, no. I will build you a house — an eternal one!

The Bible is clear: God isn’t looking for women who will build him a house, who will work for him, who will get their act together and plan for him, who will provide for him, who will fill some void in his heart. He’s looking for women for him to revive (Isaiah 57:15). He’s looking for women with a contrite and lowly spirit so he can come to them to show himself strong on their behalf (2 Chronicles 16:9).

“I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.” Isaiah 57:15

“For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless toward him…” 2 Chronicles 16:9

God turns David’s (and my!) understanding of himself upside-down and on its head — GOD is looking to serve ME. To help me. To support me. To work for me.

“From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him.” (Isaiah 64:6)

Does this kind of doctrine make you feel uncomfortable? Do these truths make you feel like you need to put on the brakes?

I think I’ve felt uncomfortable with these truths because I don’t want to make it out like God is a genie in a bottle, a Santa Claus waiting to give me my best life now and make all my dreams come true. I also know that the Christian life does involve sacrifice and walking in a manner worthy of Christ, and I don’t want to seem to encourage lawless, ungodly living.

But Paul taught a gospel like this — a gospel so good that one might fear that its grace gives license to sin. Paul’s response to this assumption is, “By no means!” (Romans 6:1-2)

Because, for those of us who have been brought from death to life, Jesus has changed our very want-tos and who we are from the inside out. Yes, we’ll still fight those old, sinful inclinations, but we won’t love them anymore. When we receive Jesus, the Bible says we are new creatures in Christ Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:17). We are fundamentally different after we receive Jesus than we were before we believed. Now, we love God and his ways, and whereas we went wrong before, now we go right, because we are right within (Spurgeon).

But I think the biggest reason I’ve felt uncomfortable emphasizing a strong God who helps the weak, is because it’s hard for me to admit that I’m weak and needy. Do you identify? Are you strong, self-sufficient type that others can always count on? Not needy? Not dependent? For the strong, for those who see themselves as better than others (Luke 18:9-14), it’s an uncomfortable gospel.

But it’s the true one. And it’s good, good news for those who realize that they are unworthy, needy sinners.

And that Sunday when we talked in our ladies class about this glorious, too-good-to-be-true God and his goodness to us, I could feel the weight of “the Christian life” lift off my shoulders. The should, the ought-to, the guilt, the trappings of busyness and stress. Because the right response to God’s goodness is to receive it — and ask for more!

“What shall I render to the LORD for all his benefits to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD.” (Psalm 116:12-13)

Like he did for David, God is seeking to help us, too. Jesus said that he did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). Jesus’ work on the cross — his ultimate service of dying in our place for the sin that we have done — is for those who receive His son, Jesus.

“But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12)

But Jesus’ help for us did not end when he died on the cross for our sins. We live the Christian life like we began it: receiving.

God works for us.

Our response to the incredible Gift we have received is love, obedience to, and worship of “the God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth.” He is a God who “does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything.” (Romans 12:1; Acts 17:24-25)

And the Christian life is daily asking God for more. Asking God for help. Asking him to do in us what only he can do. Asking him to change our loves and want-tos. Trusting him to be our strong help. Walking in obedience to his word through the strength that he supplies. Joyfully rendering obedience and a whole-hearted trust in response to the work he has done for us and is doing in us. Resting in a God who works for us.

Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress, helpless, look to Thee for grace:
Foul, I to the fountain fly, wash me, Savior, or I die.

Originally written by Amanda Criss of Bless Your Heart and Home. Used with permission.

Part-Time God

I sat in church this morning thinking of some questions.

Are we getting in the way of God fighting for our kids? Protecting our kids isn’t wrong, sure, but are we letting them experience nothing? Are we swooping in too quickly?

God is mighty. Most of us agree to that with words. But then we jump in front of the train of natural consequences that’s meant for our kids. We rush in and say “I’ve got you. I can protect you. I can save you.” But actually none of that is true. Not really. I can’t save anyone including myself.

It’s not my job to save my kids. It’s my job to teach them how Jesus saves. Sometimes that looks like conversation. Sometimes that looks like stepping aside and handing them over to their insistent behaviors. And sometimes it looks like standing beside them while they suffer those natural consequences; saying “I know and love you still.”

If we swoop in every time our kids make mistakes or seem to be walking down a road that makes us nervous, we only have ourselves to offer. And ourselves runs out pretty dang quick.

But God? That guy keeps going. He never falters. He takes our prayers over our children and whispers in our ear “no. I’ve got them. I’ve always had them. It’s me they really need. And I don’t miss. Stop making me a part time God to your children. I promise you that I’m enough.”

Thank you, God, and amen.

Written by Shontell Brewer. Used with permission.

When you’re not sure how to be thankful this Thanksgiving

Lord, I don’t know how to be thankful.

I try, I look for ways to praise You.

But everything is so challenging, so exhausting.

I’m stretched thin, and weary.

The kids, the house, the finances, everything.

Family, friends --

Lord, it seems like everywhere there’s hardship.

There’s something that stresses me out.

What can I praise You for?

You say to rejoice always, pray without ceasing,

In everything give thanks*;

For this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for me.

And I know, Lord, that thanksgiving isn’t a feeling.

It can be, but I can praise You even when I don’t feel it.

It’s a mandate, even, to give thanks.

You deserve it.

I will thank You, Lord.

Help me to feel it, but give me right perspective.

Give me eyes to see how You work for my good,

How You really are in the midst of it all.

Increase my trust in You,

Help me to thank You.

I thank You for another day,

And for the children under this roof.

Thank You for supplying our every need.

Thank You, Lord,

That there’s always something to praise You for.

Amen

*1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Written by Amy Parsons.

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.