A little body jumps in bed with me, and my day begins. A hug, a sigh, and a Big Question. "Mommy," he looks into my crusty eyes, "when will I get a big head like your big head?"
I laugh and he forgets to press me for an answer. He forgets because another brother is climbing on him with an urgent tattle about the other brother and the remote control. And somebody has bubble gum and it's not even 7am. And why is the dog barking? I try to process all of this, but all I can think about is the coffee I have not yet had. And the Pop-tarts I did not buy.
We are loved, and God is good, but how does this help me order my day? Jesus died for me, but He doesn't promise to call the insurance company for me. And these kids need to eat.
On my table sits a devotional and a Bible, which I have been neglecting, a Sunday School lesson, a hymnal, a book about having “Talks” with big kids, a Consumer Reports Magazine, a newspaper, and our new favorite story about Elephant and Piggie. Which book do I open first? Where do I even start?
What is this day? Is it a puzzle to solve? Is there a hidden Plan of God that I have to discern under all this clutter? If I figure it out, will the day be a happy one? And will I finally feel caught up, good enough, and accepted?
How does the gospel affect my to do list?
I spill coffee on the Piggie book, and that just figures. Someone cries and I growl, and I turn on another cartoon. I am not good enough, not wise enough, not loving enough. I will never be caught up, never be able to satisfy the debt I owe God and others with my own two hands.
But, I am Jesus' and He is mine. He takes my lack and gives me his fullness. He forgives my sin and makes me clean, accepted, and loved. And it is enough. The most important jobs have been done. By grace, my soul is truly caught up, and it is finished.
What is this day? It is not a puzzle to solve. It is a day to live in God's grace, to receive His gifts with thanksgiving. It is a day to let love overflow to my neighbor, whatever neighbor God sends me, with whatever need. I am free to find my identity in Jesus, not in the works of my hands, therefore I am free to give that which my neighbor truly needs.
I no longer need to be frantic. I no longer need to feel the weight of doing all things perfectly, of seeking God, for it is He Who seeks, and Jesus Who finds. I am found, and I am free.
I am free to set aside the pile of books so that I can measure my big head, and his little head, and we can marvel together at the growth God gives.