The Grace to Love

With three children ages five and under, I’ve mandated a one-hour quiet time—also known as nap time —every day from 1:00 to 2:00 p.m. That time is sacred. It’s my time.

I don’t answer my phone. If somebody comes knocking at my door, I answer with a scowl and an angry whisper (as intimidating as a whisper can be). The only exception is delivery people. They’re like every woman’s yearlong Santa Claus. A week after I order something online, I’ve forgotten about it, but then here comes someone delivering a surprise for me! Never mind that I was the one who bought it in the first place. I’m still surprised, and it’s still great.

The evenings cannot be “my time,” because evenings are family time, and after the kids go to bed, it’s husband time. Besides, my brain seems to shut off at about 8:00 p.m. That’s why 1:00 to 2:00 p.m. is so important to me.

“My time” probably sounds super selfish, right? Does it sound better if I say I use that time to read my Bible? Yes? Well good, because I do! Oh, and I write (like right now). I also use this time to exercise. Multitasking is a must. I can eat chocolate and exercise at the same time, or I can read the Bible and snack at the same time. However, reading while on a treadmill or elliptical is beyond my hand-eye coordination capabilities.

I digress.

Sometimes I read only a chapter or less in the Bible. I’m a slow reader (which is kind of funny considering I’m a writer). I figure it’s not about how much I read, or about just checking it off my to-do list. It’s more important that I glean something out of it. Sometimes I get stuck on a verse. I read it over and over while thinking about all it could possibly mean. Who wrote it? Why? What are they really saying? How does this relate to my life?

The other day I got stuck on Luke 14:26 (NIV), which reads, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.” I believe in taking the Bible literally, but I also realize Jesus liked to use metaphors. In other verses we’re instructed to honor our mother and father, and the second greatest command Jesus gave us is to “love your neighbor.”

I feel the need to meditate on this verse—What does Jesus really mean by saying, “hate”? If I love God, I should love people. How can I “hate” them while still loving them? My deep thinking is interrupted by animalistic noises coming from the top of the stairs. I have reminded my four-year-old son, Benjamin, that he is to rest or play quietly in his room for one hour. After only twenty minutes of my quiet time, I am immediately outraged. One hour. In the entire day, I ask for just one hour to myself!

I go to the bottom of the stairs and whisper-yell at him to go back to his room. I hear his footsteps as he does, and then I hear crying. Great. Just great. Now I’m the mean mom? I sit my self-righteous self back down in front of my Bible, half-thinking and half-praying:

God, how am I supposed to read your Word if I can’t even have a moment of quiet? I can’t even go to the bathroom in privacy much less study Scripture. I feel like I’m the angry mom when all I’m trying to do is read your Word! You gave me these children, but now they’re keeping me from you!

Then I hear this:

You’re angry with your child because you feel like he’s keeping you from me?

Yes!

Do you hate him?

I gasp.

The light clicks on for me. Of course I don’t hate my child, but I do hate the fact that his constant need for attention takes away from my time in the Word. Shaking my head in amazement, I think, Thanks for the lesson, God!

My son is still crying in his room. God, how do you want me to love on him? I whisper-yell from the bottom of the stairs for Ben to come join me, and I explain that I need quiet time to read my Bible. Then I do what any God-fearing parent would do. I bribe him.

“You can stay downstairs with me if you listen to me read,” I say. He agrees. I read a couple of verses and then put their message in terms a four-year-old can understand. I highlight a few verses, which horrifies my son. “Why are you coloring in your Bible?” he asks.

“I’m highlighting the verses I really like to help me remember them.” I read a few more verses and highlight another one.

He observes, “You highlight a lot of verses. You must really like the Bible.”

I smile. I see the opportunity and grab it.

“You’re right, Ben! I love the Bible. It’s God’s Word to us. He loves us so much, so I want to see what he has to say.” My son just kind of nods, but I know I’ve planted a tiny seed. After half a chapter, he’s ready to go back upstairs and play at least somewhat quietly.

I fail my kids and lose my patience with them daily. I often miss opportunities to share Christ’s love with them because my own selfish ambitions get in the way. But during this quiet time, even with some personal frustration, God gave me grace to love my son.

Nailed it!

Audrey Guerne has sanctification in overdrive thanks to her three young children ages 4, 3, and 1. She and her husband of six years are working out their salvation with fear, trembling, and laughter. In her writing, Audrey preaches to herself and invites others to learn from her mistakes and be pointed to the cross. She can be found under the handle Peanut Butter Waffle Mom at AudreyGuerne.Wordpress.com.

Photograph © Anna Kolosiuk, used with permission