I was awaken in the middle of the night by a crying child suffering from growing pains. He was crying out for his mother. He is not my child but my heart constricted for the little guy as if he were. I stumbled around, half awake and did my best to comfort and sooth. I hugged and patted, got him a drink of water (I don’t know why this helps but it always does) and took away his pain with a little Tylenol and Icy Hot. He climbed back into bed with a sweet smile for me. He never thought to say thank you and I never thought to get one. I may not be his mother but I am a mother – this is what I do.
Of course now I am wide awake with little hope of finding that evermore illusive deep sleep I was so enjoying an hour ago. I am sitting with my cup of coffee and computer, enjoying the not so silent silence of a house of sleeping children. I started reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s, An Alter in the World and she is reminding me to soak up every ounce of pleasure from moments like these. I love books like that.
Then I had to go and read this … Views that advocate same-sex marriage are free to exist, but they are wrong.
My peace was shattered.
How can anyone be so arrogant and get away with it? Stupid Desiring God website. I love you and now you have gone and ruined it and I may never be able to visit you again. Stupid Desiring God website!
I can assure you Mr. Parnell, I have never felt so persecuted as I do when I disagree with my fellow Christians. It would seem I should not be allowed to do that. I should not be allowed to be the person God made me. I should not be allowed to make up my mind for myself. I should not be allowed to feel the stirrings of God’s Holy Spirit that tell me, ‘something is not quite right about this’. I should not be allowed to read the Scriptures and interpret them because I am obviously not intelligent enough for all that. I should not be allowed to disagree without being called ‘lukewarm’ (paa -lease! I am anything but lukewarm. I remember lukewarm. This ain’t it.), or accused of worshiping the idol of ‘new tolerance’ (I got nothing on this absurdity), or given sole responsibility of driving souls straight into the pits of Hell (where do you people get this crap anyway?)
I should not be soothed and comforted through my growing pains.
For that is what they are.
I am growing into my religion. I am growing into my faith. I am growing into my calling. I am growing into my understanding. I am growing into my love for others. I am being stretched and molded in a hundred different ways. All this growing and stretching, while essential in my personal sanctification process, is uncomfortable. It hurts. And I am crying out for someone to take my hand and sooth me and tell me everything will be okay … you are just having some growing pains.
I don’t think anything has been so disappointing as disagreeing.
I run to the place I know I will always find the strongest of arms to hold me, the gentlest of hands to sooth me, the most loving of Fathers to comfort me and make it all better …
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”