When You Forget Your Freedom
Early this morning I sat in the corner of my bedroom floor to meet with the Lord. I opened my Bible and began to read, the words on the page illuminated only by the ugly orange bathroom light. Four feet away, my husband slept soundly on the couch cushions we bring upstairs every night. In the bed laid my one-week-old newborn, threatening to wake for yet another feeding.
As I sat in this moment, my heart felt heavy from the weight of starting over and all of the surrender that comes with it. This isn't how I wanted to spend my morning. I wanted to slowly sip a cup of hot coffee. To be able to read and journal to my heart's content. To bask in the morning light. To sing praises aloud rather than silently mouth them.
But as I laid my burdens before the Lord, I felt my sorrow begin to be replaced by joy. I thought about the Cross and all that the Son had endured to bring me near to the Father. I remembered the freedom secured for me, the sort of freedom that nobody -- not even this newborn baby -- can take away from me. The freedom to praise and have a heart of gratitude. The freedom to cast my cares on the Lord. The freedom to leave my past of perfectionism and shame behind. The freedom to have communion with the Lord every moment of every day.
The truth that I needed to be reminded of this morning, the same thing that I believe every new mom needs to hear and hold close to her heart, is that the Lord longs to meet us where we're at and care for our souls. Our pursuit of him doesn't need to look like that picture perfect Instagram-worthy "quiet time." Because when these things we rely on are stripped away -- the Bible reading plans we can never keep up with, the journals filled with prayers never spoken aloud, and the checklists that only highlight our failures -- he is still pursuing us.
The Lord is not limited by the constraints of motherhood. Whether we are nursing our sweet babies under the cloak of night or pushing the stroller around the track at the park or sitting on our bedroom floor to steal some time before the household wakes, he is faithfully present.
"Come away with me," is his constant invitation.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Matthew 11:28-29, emphasis mine).