The words of David in Psalm 22:9-10 have taken on new meaning for me since becoming a mother. He writes, “Yet you [God] are he who took me from the womb; you made me trust you at my mother’s breasts. On you was I cast from my birth, and from my mother’s womb you have been my God.”
I want David’s testimony to be my daughter’s. My husband Josh and I pray that she would understand and believe the good news of Jesus Christ at an early age. I’ve written these desires in my Bible, in the margin at the right of Psalm 22. I’ve prayed these words over Eleanor.
Today however the Holy Spirit shifted my focus from David’s confession to the mother in these verses. David’s mother–in faithfulness to the calling of God on her life–birthed David, nursed him, and (here’s what leapt off the page) cast him on the Lord. The word cast first stood out to me because it is such a forceful word, meaning “to throw or hurl, to fling.” Then “cast” spurred me to think of 1 Peter 5:6-7: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”
Are you really casting the cares of motherhood on me? The question (I believe from the Lord) flashed in my mind. The honest answer is no, not habitually as I should be.
I felt like God made a connection between this question and another I have recently been wrestling with: “What is the pain or discomfort that I am running from and toward food?” The answer in the last year seems myriad, but one part is the difficulties of motherhood: the exhaustion; the stress of Eleanor fighting sleep or fighting a cold; the loss of independence and freedom to go and do as I once could; the strain of parenting on my marriage–to name a few.
Jesus redeems all our trials and uses them to conform us to His image and rid us of joy-destroying sin and selfishness. This process of sanctification is ongoing, and, at times, it hurts. I have to embrace the pain of suffering for righteousness’ sake, when it comes, or I’ll never be rid of the havoc sin wreaks in me and around me. Sadly, when I try to numb the pain of life instead of turning to God, I become more entangled in sin, forget the righteousness I have in my Savior, and feel distant from my Father God, who is sinless.
From the experiences of other mothers, I glean that motherhood will always be a challenge; loving my daughter will break my heart at times; serving her will drain me and humble me. (These truths are equally beautiful and painful.) Too often, when I am feeling tired or stressed or disillusioned, I tear into a bar of chocolate, have more snacks than I should, or reach for a second helping of food even though I’m already full. What if I turned to God instead; what if I looked into his face and cast my cares on him in prayer? What if I let his Word speak to my anxiety? What if I rested, knowing that he is in control? How abundant my life would be! It’s already abundant actually–but how I could more fully taste and see that he is good!
What if you turned to God; what if you looked into his face and cast your cares on him in prayer? What if you let his Word speak to your anxiety? What if you rested, knowing that he is in control? How abundant your life would be! It’s already abundant actually–but how you could more fully taste and see that he is good!