We’re on our way to church on Saturday night after we’d been there Friday night for Seder and the boys aren’t exactly thrilled. We’ve picked up some drive through KFC and as I navigate Little River Turnpike into the setting sun they ask me why so much church this weekend. Funny how quick I find myself on my high horse, ready to explain that this is the time to remember all the rotten, ridiculous things we do. That they do. That I want them to feel bad for; apologize for.
I open my mouth to begin the list when instead out come the words, “because I’ve messed up, guys.”
It surprises even me.
But apparently I can’t stop.
“Because your mom has messed up so bad. Did you know that? Did you know that I get mad and I can get really jealous of other people.”
This kind of amazes Micah. He wants to know why. So I keep going, “I wish I had houses like other people and I lose my temper and sometimes I say bad words. Out loud.” This one gets Jackson’s attention. Zoe is kicking the back of my chair and singing something off key that only she can understand.
I change lanes and keep talking. Funny how truth is hard to stop when it starts. It’s a relief to admit out loud to them that I’m lost. About how I can’t fix things myself, least of all myself. I can smell the chicken through the brown paper bag and I hope they remembered to include the biscuits.
“I’m busted you guys. Mom is broken because she just can’t get anything right by herself. I need to be rescued. From my temper tantrums and bad thoughts and impatience and yelling at you guys. You know?”
They do. Although Jackson spends some time confused thinking that I’ve lost my way to church and I have to explain that no, I’m often lost in life and I need someone to give me directions. We’re pulling into the church parking lot and I tell them I need to come here to church this weekend because Jesus promises He can rescue me. He’s the only one who can fix the messed up parts of their mother. We come here to remember.
But they’re off and running into the building and looking for friends and fighting over the frozen lemonade before any of my garbage can really make more than passing sense to them. But me? I needed to hear it.
And Easter Sunday morning we’re back in church and I have a few moments before I need to be in the toddler room and I hold onto the words of the worship with both hands –
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be
Let thy goodness, like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
I’m a desperate lost, minivan driving mom who knows what her insides look like and how incapable she is of keeping them clean. So I put both hands in the air because I surrender this lot and this life and this trying to get it right by myself. I give up all my own best ideas of trying to fix things and win my sons and bubble wrap my daughter.
I give it up and put a hand up for rescue from all that’s drowning me.Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here by Thy great help I’ve come
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood.
And I have to fight every day to care more about my Jesus than my blog, my children than my work, my calling than my distraction with what everyone else has been called to do. My kids spill bags of pretzels in the car and some days the car and I both want to call it quits. But I’m not lost.I keep going back to church on Sundays because I believe Jesus moved into the neighborhood and He knows me by name.