Sermon Transcript on May 13, 2018
Monroe Free Methodist Church
Mother’s Day – a day that encapsulates the both-and of the Christian life, both joy and suffering, both celebration and mourning, both crucifixion and resurrection. Many churches have beautiful Mother’s Day services, passing out precious momentos and honoring all of the awesome mothers in the world. I have attended I don’t even know how many Mother-Daughter banquets in my life. It all seemed so good and right. After all, what’s the harm in dressing up in your most floral dress, donning a big sun hat, and taking pictures with your moms and daughters? This day and these celebrations can be a beautiful gift, but I have learned this day can also be dark and foreboding for so many. Over the years I have had my eyes opened to those who suffer quietly on Mother’s Day. Some of them skip church altogether fearing the salt that will surely be poured in their wounds. The fact of the matter is this role called “Mother” brings with it both the abundance new life and a crucible of suffering.
Even in this small congregation each of you represents a different experience, a unique encounter with that word “Mother.” So today, on this mother’s day, I want to acknowledge and honor each of you, no matter your journey.
To the ones who are the joyful parents of children – we celebrate with you!
To the ones who delight in being a grandparent – we delight with you!
To all of us who have second-guessed our parenting skills – we believe in you!
To the ones expecting a child – we celebrate and pray your child always knows God’s love.
To the ones chasing toddlers and cleaning up spilled milk – there is grace upon grace!
To the ones up to their neck in school permission slips and homework packets – keep on keeping on!
To the ones who are parents of adult children – we ask God to grant you wisdom.
To the ones who have parented through adoption or foster care – we give thanks for you.
To the ones praying for misguided children – we join you in your prayers.
To the ones who endure strained relationships – we pray for God’s peace.
To the ones whose hearts never forget the miscarriages – we commit to remembering with you.
To the ones who have lost a mother – we mourn with you.
To the ones who have stood by their child’s grave – we grieve with you.
To the ones who wonder if they’ll ever have a baby of their own – we wait in hope for you.
Many of you have heard my story and some of you walked it with me, but on this Mother’s Day I wanted to share what God has done in my life. I have prayed that in sharing my story, you will be sparked to share yours, and I pray these words will be balm for the broken hearts.
In just over a week on May 24th Kevin and I will be celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary! It’s been nearly a decade since we first stepped foot into Monroe Free Methodist Church, newly married and fresh out of college. (Yes, you might not know we spent our first 3 married years here in youth ministry before Kevin went to seminary.) And now, 4 years into our second tenure here at MFMC, we are just a few weeks away from my ordination and from the birth of our second child. As I ponder these pivotal moments in my life, I cannot help but be overwhelmed by God’s graciousness. I have wept tears of joy so many times in the last few months, encountering God’s incredible goodness toward me. It is truly as Christ prayed in John 17:16
“They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. 17 Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. 18 As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. 19 And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth.”
God’s truth and his love for me has absolutely changed my life in this past decade. We all will endure hardships and despair; and we celebrate momentous occasions; and sometimes we just trudge along in the mundane, but all of it, every moment, is a part of our sanctifying story. God is at work in our set-apartness as those who profess Jesus as Lord. He is present in every moment offering his grace and his gifts no matter how dark the season.
One of my difficult seasons has to do with releasing my hopes and dreams for my life. You see, if I had had it my way, we would have had children 8 years ago. But God, who is rich in wisdom, knew the exact children He would grant us and knew how much work was still to be done in my life.
Throughout this entire second pregnancy I cannot help but be consumed by God’s sweetness toward me. It is truly overwhelming how perfect his timing is for our lives. I consider what my life would have been like if I had had babies when I planned on having babies. It’s likely I wouldn’t have graduated yesterday with my Master’s Degree in Spiritual Formation. It’s even more likely I never would have said, “yes” to God’s insistent call on my life to be a pastor. My plan was meager and short-sighted. With the gift of time and hindsight I can now testify to all the grace I encountered in my journey of heartbreaking infertility. I can now say how incredibly grateful I am for the years Kevin and I had together to grow up and to learn a little about this marriage thing and to explore our callings before we had children. And oh my word I can hardly express all the ways God shaped my soul and developed my gifts and my confidence. He is so gracious to us if we would just be present to Him along the journey.
Throughout my five years of infertility I learned how to rely more wholly on God for fulfillment. I believe God can uses both the small challenges of life and the greatest darkness to demonstrate his goodness and trustworthiness.
On May 10, 2014 I published these words on my blog, a letter to the child I had long-desired.
For the first time in all these years of waiting for you, Child, I am anxious about tomorrow. It’s Mother’s Day. The past couple of holidays I wasn’t really thinking about myself and my sadness. I was focused on how GREAT moms are and how they deserve to be celebrated. Inevitably, however, there was always a moment when my reality of barrenness would come crashing down on me again: perhaps it was during the church service when the pastor talked about the blessings of motherhood; or maybe it was that comment by an innocent acquaintance who says they think I would be a wonderful mom and wonders when we’ll have kids; or it might come when I would numbly scrolling through Facebook, seeing image after beautiful image of my friends and their children.
Mothers and motherhood are meant to be celebrated. I don’t want to take away the joy of this day and replace with my raw emotions. After all, I can see that it’s totally normal to wonder if and when we’re going to have kids. And I’m really glad you think I’ll be a good mom.
But this year is different. (We were in the middle of a series of intense fertility treatments.) Because I sit here wondering if you, My Child, are taking up residence in my womb right this very moment. I am anxious to know if the procedure and the timing and the pills and the injection worked together to bring life where there has only been barrenness. And I don’t know if I can face all of the knowing glances, receive all of the heartfelt hugs, respond to all of the prayerful inquiries.
You are wanted, Child. Deeply desired. Prayed over by your daddy and me, by your grandparents and aunts and uncles, by a church family, and by far away friends who love us well.
I wasn’t pregnant that Sunday, but a year later we announced in this very sanctuary that I was 7 weeks pregnant.
In October 2015 when I was pregnant with Kirsten, I wrote a different sort of reflection on my blog:
As our little girl’s due date looms closer and closer, it’s easy to get caught up in the hustle of preparation and the questions of inquiring minds…but it’s impossible to forget where we were just months ago. In March 2015 I was truly believing that God might be calling us to childlessness. My identity was steeped in infertility, my spiritual journey rooted in that ache, my hopes dwindled. But we were ok.
For the past many years since first sharing our story, we have been covered in prayers and support. And we had joined the unofficial cohort known as the Infertility Club. We had a few friends who confided with us that they, too, were unable to conceive. Together we walked through the tears, the anger, the envy, the heartbreak. We experienced tests, doctor’s appointments, artificial hormones, invasive procedures, and shared all the details because one of us was inevitably headed down the same road. And the biggest goal of the Infertility Club was to see each of us become parents.
But when you leave you that Club it’s with mixed feelings. You get a call from your friend who lovingly shares her joyous news with you hoping you won’t be devastated by it. This is the whole point, isn’t it? Yes, but this infertility sisterhood can’t be duplicated. And somehow it feels a little bit like betrayal to be the “successful one.”
So as I watch my belly bubble with little movements and complain about the weight gain and the heartburn, my heart aches for the friends I’ve left behind. In my joy, they rejoice. And in their sorrow, I mourn.
So what does my story have to do with any of you? I think it’s summarized by the prayer of Jesus in John 17:11, “Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” I believe our call on this day – and always – is to unity among the believers; to stand in solidarity with one another as we venture through the both-and of this Christian life.
We are a hurting people. There is pain in this congregation and despair in our city and brokenness in our nation. While it’s important to be praying for our government and leaders, for the homeless and impoverished, we must first be united as brothers and sisters in Christ. This takes a concerted effort on our part. It’s not easy to live in solidarity with people who call themselves Christians but seem to have different standards for living than we do. It’s not easy to be united with people who hurt us with their words or actions. In fact, it’s a whole lot easier to gossip about one another than it is to live in unity with one another.
We’ve spent the past few weeks reading through the book of First John, hearing about the Love of God and the love that must be found in us if we are to claim we are children of God. This love and unity found within the Trinity, between the Father and the Son and the Spirit, absolutely must be found between us. We must learn to live in the both/and with one another, mourning with those who mourn while rejoicing with those who rejoice. We must be willing to bring our wounds into the light in order that they may be healed. We must believe that the momentary pain of being honest (and perhaps embarrassed) is worth the healing and wholeness that comes with authentic relationships.
So look inward on this day. Examine your gut instincts toward the people sitting in this room. Evaluate the judgmental thoughts and be honest about your hurts. And then look outward and ask God to give you the courage to pursue unity with your brothers and sisters.
We can begin by coming to this Table, side by side, united in the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit.
