A Letter To My Mom

I wrote this to honor my own lovely mom and the moms of my beloved church. They are just some musings on the importance of a mom from the perspective of a 36 year old pastor. Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there.

What is so significant about moms? Only everything. It dawned on me recently why moms and their children share such a special relationship. When I was being formed in your womb, God was there, present with me and present with you. Imagine, the hand of the creator, the one who hung the stars and gives them names, reached down into your tummy and put me together, there, inside of you. 

We can say this together: “such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”  Psalm 139

Now I understand every tear you shed for me. If it means anything to you, they were worth it. For all the sleepless nights on my behalf, not one of them was in vain. For all the knots in your stomach about my well-being,  I hope you can see that I can see how much you loved me. And it matters to me now as much as it mattered to me then.

At the time I didn’t understand why it was so hard for you to see me struggle, get left out, and suffer pain. Now I understand why you would have preferred to stand in my place…if only you could. I was your child, you nurtured me to life.

You gave me my first glimpse into heaven’s purity, where God’s love is perfect. Before love was self-serving and before it was tainted by the world, there you were. You sacrificed for me when I was good and bad. You laid down your life for me when I made you laugh and when I made you cry.  You put my interests above yours when I made you proud and when I brought you shame. You loved me, like it was all the same. 

Sometimes I wonder where our world would be if not for the love of moms. Would we have hope that there is something better, higher, nobler, purer? Would we dream, with any shred of realism, of the coming day that the tyranny of pride will be ended forever? Would we imagine heaven a place filled with glory? Would eternal bliss seem plausible to us if not for the foretaste from you? Could we conceive of the purest love of God if not introduced to this world through you who has loved me for no other motive but to love? And yet, if your love is imperfect, what kind of appreciation and anticipation would I have of God’s love, which is perfect? 

God’s hand, his very hand, knit me together in your womb. It was in your body that my body was formed and God numbered my days. It was under your protection that my eyes came to see, my fingers came to touch, my nose came to smell, my ears came to hear, my tongue came to taste. But what is sight if blind to beauty? What is hearing with no wisdom? What is smelling with no discernment? What is taste with no hunger or thirst for God? What is it to touch, if I was never to feel God’s presence?  Yes, in your womb I was formed but it was the countless ways that you died to yourself that I was able to know Jesus, to see the beauty of Jesus, and truly live. Charm is deceitful, beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

Mom, you are to be praised. You hold one of the most important and indispensable offices on this planet: motherhood. You are a giver of life, beautiful in character, a glimpse into heaven, a hope for the future. A woman who fears the Lord truly is to be praised, and this world can hardly grasp your worth. 

Happy Mother’s Day.