Faith,  Motherhood

Resurrection for Mamas

Today is Easter Sunday. Today, Jesus rips out of the grave in a wham-bam display of divine power and love. It’s a day for big God gestures, the way men pull out all the stops to propose to their future wives. And the church, like a surprised bride, jumps up and down, says, Yes.

But today, I’m staying home. Somewhere between planning car arrangements and thinking about how many people would try to touch my baby’s hands, I decided not to go to church. I simply wasn’t up for it. The big-gesture, big-response event sounded exhausting.

Today, I don’t just want Jesus of the Easter resurrection. I want Jesus of the everyday resurrection. I want the Jesus who is continuously making all things new, who holds it all together.

Because I need eternal salvation, but I also need to be saved from the laundry.

I need someone to push the reset button on my spirit when I’m frustrated by frequent nursing and nap refusal. I need someone to speak encouragement to my heart, to assure me that I’m doing some things right. I need everyday miracles: sleep and coffee and baby smiles.

I need resurrection for mamas, which looks like showering, leaving the house, or finally getting 6 hours of sleep. Church and Bible study might have to wait a few more weeks. Today, give me the little things that make a mama feel human again. 

A few months ago, I would have balked at this small theology. I would have rolled my eyes at another mommy blogger talking about her laundry. I would have gone back to reading about liberation theology or something. I would have looked for the big-gesture God.

But then I became a mom, and my world collapsed into a profound smallness.

Now, I spend all day in the same small room, with the same small boy, doing the same small tasks. My theology has grown legs and begun walking around, because what I believe about God determines how I will treat my family. I need good theology—even when it seems small—to be patient and joyful with my son, no matter how sleepless or monotonous the day has been.

My eyes are on Jesus of the everyday resurrection, because I need him to do this job well. I need his small kindnesses. I need his gentle voice. I need his example of sacrifice, and his assurance that when I pour out everything, there’ll still be enough.

He is the one who keeps this mama going, who brings her back to life over and over again.

Today, I’m thankful for the empty grave, but I’m even more thankful that Jesus, after rising from the dead, showed up at his disciples’ work with breakfast (John 21:12). Because this is the kind of God a mama needs. Not the big-gesture God, but the everyday lover, who brings us coffee just because.

This Jesus gives me hope and guidance, comfort and strength.

Hallelujah, He is risen. And this mama is alive.


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