Let Us Make Much of God

It was nearing the end of the school year for my older children. Every afternoon, as I heard the brakes of the yellow school bus screech on the street outside, I pause to watch my children file through the front door, dropping book bags and throwing off sneakers on their way into the house. I was waiting, anticipating and dreading, all in the same moment. Would I see eyes full of tears or happy grins on their freckled faces as they recounted their stories of the day’s success or disappointment?

As mothers of all school-age children do, I stood ready to give hugs and high-fives in celebration or pass a handful of tissues and hang on to that hug just a little longer, depending on the tell-tale signs of the little faces that walk through the door.

With every celebration or sob, I want to teach my children to embrace life’s successes and failures, to teach them that these events do not define us.

My children are not alone in navigating the joy and sorrow, success and disappointment that can collide at the end of a day. Sometimes I find myself entering this perfect storm of worry, doubt, and fear about my own mothering, ministry, achievements, and disappointments. All my perfectionist tendencies and desire for control rear their ugly heads. I find myself in a desert of my own making, pleading with God for just one more day of manna.

And this great God, who sees me alone in my wilderness, continues throughout all my circumstances to give me gifts of unmistakable goodness and provision. It’s as if he whispers, “Hold up your cup,” and then he fills it. And when God fills your cup, he doesn’t just fill it to the brim. He fills it to overflowing (Psalm 23:5).

These are blessings overflowing with goodness and mercy that no enemy of my own making within or evil force outside can snatch away.

I feel the piercing eyes of Jesus, who stops storms and calms seas with just one command, look deep into my soul and ask, Now do you believe? Sometimes, to my shame, I am still the disciple filled with questions and unbelief.

Still, again and again, Jesus prepares a table for me. Not just a single, thin morsel of bread, either, but a table laden with his abundant goodness and mercy. The Great Shepherd of my soul gives me all things good. Why would I not make much of such a shepherd?

So I grab my children’s hands and remind them (thus reminding my own doubtful, wondering heart), that our successes and failures do not need to be about us if we would only fix our eyes on Christ. These good provisions we hold in our hands and these hard roads we may be called to walk, they are both God’s invitation to deeper trust, greater obedience and astounding discoveries about him.

This is God is all his goodness. This is God in all his glory. Let us make much of God.

When the story of our life becomes about displaying him instead of our own failures or success, we discover a great Father who covers us with goodness and mercy all our days. Let us make much of him.

In our serving, in our mothering, in our daily work of life, let us not make much of ourselves, but instead, let us make much of God. And in our mothering, may we find moments to model and teach our children to do the same. For our Heavenly Father is the giver of all good things.

Let’s pull our children’s hands as we walk along life’s road and remind them, Let us celebrate God today! Let us wade into the waters of the unknown, claim the goodness of our great God’s character, and pile up our Jordan stones. For there is his kingdom to grow and his good news to share., even in the midst of a strange and lonely season.

The Good Shepherd who walks beside us also provides for us. But God’s provision for our souls and in our lives is not so that we gain our own success. It is so our lives will glorify him. Let us make much of him.

God loves us too much to let us be consumed by ourselves and our sense of success. And his salvation is too great and perfect to leave us alone in our failures.

So let us make much of God today, that in our doubting we would come to know him deeper, and in the surrender of our life to him, we would love him better.

Beth Sickel is a simple pastor’s wife who is married to her best friend and called mama by her four favorite little people. When she’s not drinking coffee or hiking with her family, she’s trying new dishes in the kitchen or blogging about creating space for Jesus conversations in your heart and home. You can find her over at RoomforWonderful.com.

Photograph © Krzysztof Kowalik, used with permission