I don't have any idea what to say. How do I reach their hearts?
Give them strength in my own weakness. Pour light into the darkness.
I read the words again, for maybe the hundredth time. Words written by Paul for Ephesus. For me. For mothers.
"Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." - Ephesians 5:19-20
They sound like a strange language. Yet I feel them tug at my heart. Try to rouse it as it slumbers.
I am scrubbing dishes. Hands plunged deep in hot, soapy water. Trying to wash away my worries. My fears.
I feel the anxiety crawling in. Trying to grab hold.
And suddenly I am aware of the music in the air. The words I have been singing but just couldn't hear.
"And the first time that You opened Your eyes did You realize that You would be my Savior?
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever?" ~ Relient K
The words catch in my throat. The tiny baby now real.
Could I give my only Son? My baby, carried inside. Go through the labor pains, knowing he was a Sacrifice. A Gift.
Given freely. Given completely. And immeasurably undeserved.
Why do I hesitate? Hold Back. Find myself turning inside out in the moment of definition.
Why isn't my heart always filled with music for my Savior?
Why do I forget to Give Thanks? For everything.
I swirl and stew. Get trampled and stuck. Let go of His hand.
Find myself clinging to the side of a cliff. Gasping for air.
And He is always there.
How do you give your child to save someone who continues to disown you?
To deny you.
That is Love. Love that I want to give back. Love that I long to pour over the nail pierced hands.
The Hands that wrapped, chubby fingers, around a carpenter's rough hand. The Hands that held tightly to his mother's neck. The Hands that healed the blind, gave life to the dead. Touched the untouchable.
Hands that grew from a baby to a man.
Just to die for me.
To die. For me.
My Bible lays open beside me. And I glance over, searching for the Words. Trying to make sense of the unfathomable.
"Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." - Ephesians 5:1
Love. Pour out His love. Freely, sacrificially.
That is how we make music for God. By being His Song.
By giving all of us so that others may see more of Him.
Walking our path. Embracing our journey with Praise and Thanksgiving. Never letting go.
I am not enough. Not qualified to lead. Too weak to offer strength. Too ravaged by pain to pour out joy.
I am raw. Hanging wide-open. And I am perfect for His purpose. Because He has given All for me.
And that is Enough.