I’m not even going to pretend today. Not that I ever pretend, but sometimes we avoid talking about hard days, or weeks or months.
Satan does love a good pity party, doesn’t he? Well I had me one this week. Why do we do it? We talk of the beauty of sacrifice, the privilege of service–it all sounds so easy and wonderful. And sometimes it is. But other times it’s not.
I thought of Jesus. Everywhere He turned, folks pulling on His robe. They needed something, wanted something–it was usually about them, and He was ready, willing to serve. He rarely rested, He just kept giving, never complaining.
And only a few ever turned back to thank him. Few noticed His tireless effort.
Why do we want someone to notice–someone to see how we’ve swept the floor 4 times, but it’s still dirty by supper time?
The physical needs press in, but so do the emotional ones.
That feeling that “I’m responsible for their education, their temperaments, their problem-solving habits–it’s all up to me”…even though we know it’s not.
Why do we need someone to know how many times we got up in the night with a little one?
I admit it: I’m a terrible servant. But if my Lord said “Serve”, then I will die trying.
Let It Be Enough
by William Farley. (Though there are a few points with which I disagree.)
I stood talking with a woman at the checkout and her 5-year-old was climbing first up her leg, then squealing, then dropping to the floor, still holding her mother’s arms, jerking her downward, demanding to be picked up, running round and round while the mother’s face grew more tense, trying to focus on our conversation–both of us attempting to ignore the giant elephant of this demanding child.
