Stop striving for what we’ll only have in the Kingdom

My brave mom volunteered to fly with my three boys from my house to hers over the summer. This gave me ten days of vacation from the responsibilities of motherhood–the longest I’ve had since I started this gig six years ago.

In a word, it was refreshing! My husband and I took a mini trip and did things we can’t do with three kids 6 and under in tow–like float down the Guadalupe River for three hours, go out for late night sushi and fancy donuts, see a movie, and have uninterrupted conversations. We were also able to sit all the way through a sermon together, read books, exercise, think through homeschool plans, help our sister and brother in law move, and organize gazillions of little boy clothes! It was such a gift to have that time and I am just so grateful.

But I also had this sense of overwhelm. Knowing the time would pass and that this would be my last chance to check things off from my infinitely long to-do list, I felt like I was grasping after a kite tail I would never catch. Some days I felt paralyzed by how much I wanted to do, the freedom to actually DO it, and yet the energy I lacked to get there (seven months pregnant will do that to ya.)

So I tried to get to the root of my weird internal struggle. Why was I anxious? (Hint: it wasn’t because I missed the kids, sorry to say!) Why did it feel like I was trying to hold onto a tight fist of dry sand? What did I love so much about that sand slipping through my fingers?

Well, I can tell you that I loved how clean the house stayed. If I put something away at the beginning of the trip, IT STAYED PUT AWAY. No toddler tossing things every which way, no preschooler building forts with items from every part of the house and no six year old with a messy craft project strewn across the floor. The dishes were easy to keep up with and the laundry was minimal. There was order beyond my wildest dreams.

I also had zero conflicts to mitigate. No discipline to administer. No getting sick of hearing my own voice giving instruction by midday. Not even any real stress for my husband and I to squabble over. There was peace in our home.

And I loved that I was able to fully prepare my heart for church on Sunday. I read the sermon text ahead of time, prayed over it, journaled about it, really tracked with it from start to finish, and lingered in fellowship. It was lovely and rejuvenating to engage in worship without little ones requiring my attention. I loved my Bible study, my prayer time, the spiritually encouraging books I was able to read whenever I felt like it for however long I wanted to. So, you could say that I really appreciated my time of worship.

Order, peace, and worship. Three good things. Three things I’m striving for even with the kids around, but three things that really only felt fully reachable in their absence. And three things that I can make an idol out of it if I neglect my children (even just in my heart-attitude) in order to have them just how I desire them.

Order, for instance–if I want it so much that I’d rather busy myself with tasks that only stay done temporarily (hey there, Martha!) than sit at the feet of Jesus like my soul needs to (hello, Mary!), then I’m missing the point of what I was created for. And if I can’t come off my desire for order to let my kids learn and play and grow in our home, then I think I’ve mixed up what our home is really for.

Peace, for example–if it only comes when I withdraw myself from relationships with other people who may bring about conflict, then I’m seeking peace at the expense of love for them! I don’t think that’s the kind of peace that our Prince of Peace has for us. He drew close to people knowing fully well that they would torture and murder Him–and still did it out of love for us, knowing that this was the only way to bring about eternal peace for our souls. There is no limit to how much I can lean into difficult relationships with other humans when I think of Jesus as my example.

Worship, or really, my fully focused, uninterrupted personal experience of worship is good. But if I can’t be bothered to train my children to worship with me–those unbelievers living under the same roof as me–then I’m missing The Great Commission by a long shot. I’m missing the very Kingdom work I was left here to do after I came to faith. (Makes me think of burying my one talent to keep it safe vs. investing it and allowing it to multiply!) Sometimes in these wearying years with small children, a Sunday morning of worship comes in the form of a heart-attitude that loves the Lord and the child He gave you so much that you’ll sacrifice whatever it takes to bring these two together. It takes more effort for my soul to be fed (maybe I need to wake up earlier to read the sermon text for myself or re-listen to the sermon later), but I can trust that the Lord will supply the grace I’ll need so that I can feed the little flock He’s given me and model what’s most important to me for them.

You know what hope we as believers have in Heaven, though?

Peace,

order,

and worship.

Perfectly. Beyond our most sanctified imaginations and ours forevermore.

You know what won’t be in Heaven?

Children to raise.

Nope. Just our brothers and sisters in Christ standing shoulder to shoulder with us as we worship our great Father. The labor of seeking the lost and training up followers of Christ will be complete and all He has chosen and foreknown will be there.

I went to join the kids after my little break and sure enough, the chaos of my life kicked back in. But my desire for order, peace and worship was put in its right place: which is behind my mission to raise these little souls to know and love Christ for His glory. I realized I needed to stop striving for what I’ll only have in the Kingdom and instead roll up my sleeves to do this messy, holy work I’ve been called to do while I’m here on earth.

The passage that really brought all of this truth home for me is Philippians 1:21-26. I encourage you to read it and think on whose “account” you’re still here for and what “fruitful labor” is left for you to do. <3