Glimpses of glory

On the eve of Mother's Day, I sat in my bedroom and wept over my failures as a mother. Failures of patience, failures of grace, failures to offer my children the same mercy I so desperately need time and time again. I am sure that my misery was likely borne of weariness as well -- of a week of too much rain, and piles of damp laundry that never seem to dry, and food preparation that takes hours of each day, and the blessed encumbrances of hosting two troupes of family visitors all within the same month. But on that evening, I felt a familiar tug of doubt and despair, the secret fear that my own brokenness is wounding my children beyond repair.

And then, in the quiet of Mother's Day morning, with my good husband and small son whipping up pancakes, I curled up on my children's bed and read in the book of 1 Samuel about the grand moment when the very first king of Israel is chosen. I can picture the scene:  the hillside covered with the assembled tribal leaders of Israel, the excitement in the air. The prophet Samuel casts the sacred lot, and the anticipation rises, and the tribe of Benjamin is picked, then the family of the Matrites, the family of Kish, and finally, the name Saul. I imagine the murmurs rippling through the crowd, the heads turning and eyes straining to catch a glimpse of the honored one. But alas, the honored one is nowhere to be found.

If you remember this story, you will probably remember where Saul is hidden. Tall, handsome, humble Saul, who mere days before has been told by Samuel that he has been chosen by God to be king, is hiding in the baggage. The baggage? Yup. And friends, I read that story and thought, "I get that fear. I get it." I get the terror that grips and hurtles you straight into a pile of your own baggage, where you hide, your eyes squeezed shut, praying that by some miracle you may never be seen or found.

But cowering Saul, he has forgotten that the God who has led Israel through thick and thin is the God who sees him and knows him. And God has chosen him because the people have rejected God; they want a king, just like everybody else, and they clamor for a king over Samuel's bleak warnings. And this God, he is big enough and merciful enough to say, "Okay, I'll give you a king," and to place his blessing on this king and this group of rebellious, fickle children. So God tells the people where Saul is hiding, and they go and drag him out and send up a cheer and hoist this reluctant ruler to the forefront, where the prophet Samuel pronounces these remarkable words over Saul:  "This is the man the Lord has chosen as your king. There isn't his equal in all of Israel!" And I think, "Really? You mean the guy they just found camped out among the baggage, scared out of his mind? Sure, that's pretty unparalleled, but not in the way you're thinking."

Yet these words rain down on Saul, words of grace so lavish they take my breath away. "Here is the man the Lord has chosen. There isn't his equal in all of Israel!" The people are straining for a glimpse of glory, but the glory is not in Saul and his worthiness and his coronation. The glory is in God and his calling and his choosing and his blessing.

And in the quietness of my children's bedroom, I hear the echo resound in my weary soul:  "Here is my daughter Naomi, whom I have chosen, and she is precious in my sight." And I remember (oh faithless heart, how could you forget?) that this task of mothering, it was never about me and my abilities and my awesomeness. This was always about receiving a gift, about taking small strands of strength and weaving them into a cloth of courage, about allowing the sharp and broken pieces of my life to send my children running into the loving arms of our Heavenly Father. This is about the Almighty God and his choosing and his blessing upon me, me, as I huddle in my baggage and close my eyes tight. This is about God inviting me to allow him to display his glory.

I can't think of a better Mother's Day gift.


P.S. All of the pictures in this post we captured at Ngorongoro Crater, a breathtakingly beautiful conservation area a few hours from Arusha. These glimpses of glory felt like grace.