It’s still baffling that I’m standing in this place. 39.9 weeks pregnant with my second child. Welcoming change and joy to a family that is stable, love-packed, and… sober. A family that is more than fallible and flawed but one that is thriving as a result of our Father’s redemption and relentless love.
I’ve been hung up lately while studying the book of Joshua alongside the nation of people attending BSF. This book has a harshness to it I wasn’t aware of. I’ve been chalking up this disconnect I’ve felt when answering questions and reading my daily scriptures as distraction because I’m super pregnant and excited.
I’ve attributed my perceived loss of connection with God as a natural preoccupation with the changing winds swirling around my family and I right now but realistically, I think I’ve been avoiding the truth.
The God in Joshua scares me. Wrath, vengeance, justice, bloodshed, stoning, no survivors….
That’s not my Dad right? But it is.
I am amazed how flimsy my perception of God has become since I became a believer 3-ish years ago. When I had just started a relationship with Christ I could see Grace but couldn’t understand or accept it. I belong to the “Dad struggled with Anger: God must have anger issues too” camp and after committing sins and what felt like a lifetime of mistakes while nursing a booze and drug problem, I didn’t see myself as forgivable let alone redeemable. It was easier for me to confine the might of God into something I could palate; a human character flaw I could see, feel, and understand. So God became wrath, rage… anger.
But how have I turned the God I used to recoil from into one who fills pillows and blankets? A downy malleable mix of cushy comfort.
Its because of where I’ve set my gaze. For the last season or so, I’ve needed God to be cushy. So I’ve made Him my comforter- a role He relishes when I’m crying out with growing pains and frustration with myself and others. But in doing this I’ve forgotten the sword-wielding savior who stood at my bunk bed fighting off brutal visions of detox dreams so vivid and violent I still can’t bear to repeat them.
The God at my bunk bed WAS wrathful. Vengeful. His anger and willingness to destroy whole colonies of evil was how I got through detox in order for him to toss me my own sword to fight for my sobriety with Him.
But its timely that at 39.9 weeks pregnant I’m being reminded of His swift justice, terrible anger…. and His repeated willingness to arm himself on my behalf and that of my family. Because bringing another child into this world right now is to bring another soldier to a fight that began a long time ago in a very specific garden. One that we may not seem to be winning most of the time…. but only because this place isn’t where our victory will come.
1 Corinthians 15:25-26 says
For He must reign until He has put His enemies underneath his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
And I need strength right now. I need to keep fighting, ruthlessly- for joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self control… for love…. and a good nap here and there.
Mother is my role in this war. That rank may not seem to ring with the same power of Calvary…. or missionary… but who brings forth and raises those soldiers and messengers? Mothers.
But it was God first, with a sword of vengeance saving me AND you, so it will be me with my sword, next to my husband saving our boys from the evil in the crazy world we’re living in now.
Yeah, that’s right. I said it. I know you’re giving us another little boy God, and I love it. Bring me leaders to love into your Kingdom, and thank you Father… for bringing us here at all.