ALL YOU TALK ABOUT IS LOVE

When I was a girl, my mother’s love was always more difficult for me to understand than my father’s. The memory is fuzzy around the edges—like a picture on old film—but I remember saying to my father, “I want to marry someone like you.”

On the surface, it didn’t sound bad. But with my mother in the room, somehow—through tone or eyes or both—she knew, and my father knew, that what I was really saying was that I didn’t want to marry someone like her. Or be like her. I left the room, not thinking much of anything, but a little while later, my father came into my room.

“You know your mom is a great woman,” he said plainly. “You hurt her feelings earlier.”

He didn’t tell me to apologize, but like me, the heart of what he was saying was implied.

When I looked outside my room, there she was— sorting laundry, tossing the light clothes in the wash and the dark ones in the bin. It could have been moments or many minutes between my father’s words and my realization that I had hurt her, but eventually I stood behind her and said, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”

She hugged me, and I went on to play again.

Only now am I considering how painful it must have been for her. How misunderstood she must’ve felt. In her heart was nothing but love, and still it cut me and bruised me and caused me to question if she really knew me—or loved me at all.

These things separated us for a time. Her standards felt too high, her vision for me had no stretch, her words no cushion. In all her correcting and guiding and leading, all I heard was: there’s something wrong with you, or I don’t like that about you.

When the truth was, she had been to all these places before me. She had already been 3 and 5 and 15 and 28. She could spot manipulation. She could discern the heart of a well-intentioned person. She’d been heartbroken and knew the ramifications of disobedience. She had lived and therefore knew things about life and about me.

After all, God gifted me to her, and her to me.

So even more than her knowing, He has known, and saw fit to choose her and all the situations that made her, just for me. Further illustrating this idea that He has gone before me and continues to go before me in every situation in my life.

Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” John 13:7 [niv]

My mother, like most parents, told me that “You’ll understand when you get older” all the time.

Why can’t I spend the night at my friend’s house? You’ll understand when you get older.

Why can’t I date until I am 16? You’ll understand when you get older

Why do you keep saying all men just want sex? You’ll. Understand. When. You. Get. Older.

She would, to the best of her ability, give an explanation that felt suitable for a 10, 15 or 21-year-old. But most times, her answers just exposed something else I didn’t quite understand. And, in her own wisdom or impatience, she left some of my learning to aging or natural consequences.

Then, after making a decision or a series of decisions that landed me in the exact position she was trying to protect me from, something she said would be brought back to my remembrance.

Sometimes I’d laugh, depending on how bad the situation was, I might have cried. But she was right, I did understand when I got older.

My mom was right about most things. I can say that now because I am not as stubborn. I can also say that my mother’s ability to wound me to love me is something that I am only beginning to accept about her, because it’s something that I am only now beginning to accept about God.

“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” 1 Corinthians 13:11 [niv]

Proverbs 27:6 AMP reminds us, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend [who corrects out of love and concern], but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful [because they serve his hidden agenda].”

Now, although my mom made it a habit of saying, “I’m not one of your little friends,” I can still say faithful are the wounds of my mother. Or my father. Or my husband. Because faithful are the wounds of those who love me. Steadfast are the wounds of those who love me. Loyal are the wounds of those who love me.

And if all of the people who love me are fashioning the way they love after Christ, then I’d have to assume that the most faithful wounds are from the One who loves me most. Now, that isn’t to say I enjoy being wounded or that I haven’t questioned God’s heart or my mother’s heart towards me many times. But, I guess I am trying to become less committed to my questions and more committed to what I know, to what God says.

I thought that God and I would end off in Proverbs, but to my surprise, we landed on Hebrews 12:10-11 NIV and it says,

“They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in His holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

I kind of laughed after reading this scripture. It was a holier echo of my mom’s “You’ll understand when you get older”. A declaration from God that my parents do what they think is best, but He does what is best. An empathetic plea from His heart to mine, a reminder that He knows discipline painfully sucks, but later it will produce righteousness and peace and an eternal opportunity for me to share in His holiness.

I guess that is the point. To share in His holiness. To be like Him. To empty myself and allow Him to do whatever He wants. But, I think He’s been exposing that I still love my own way more than Him. Not always, but in the places I won’t allow Him to touch. The parts I still hide, the areas I am resistant to His voice, where I reject His discipline.

But, after the exposure, there is always an invitation.

I want you to share in My holiness. Can I show you how?

I know discipline is painful. Can I show you what it produces?

I know what you believe about Me. Can I show you who I truly am?

“HE HAS MADE EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL IN ITS TIME. HE HAS ALSO SET ETERNITY IN THE HUMAN HEART, YET NO ONE CAN FATHOM WHAT GOD HAS DONE FROM BEGINNING TO END.” ECCLESIASTES 3:11 [NIV]

My mom sacrificed my opinion of her and my feelings towards her for a greater purpose. She said the hard things, did the hard things, and there was fallout.

She was the hard one.

The mean one.

The insensitive one.

I blamed her more and accused her more than I had anybody else.

When her choices would cause me pain and my limited understanding built walls between us, her commitment to God was always stronger than her commitment to me. But now I am thinking that her commitment to God was also her commitment to me.

More than wanting me to be happy and comfortable and at ease, she wanted me to share in His holiness.

More than needing me to understand every decision she made, she wanted me to trust in the love she had for me.

Instead of getting distracted by what I felt, she wanted me to keep my eyes on the goal.

She is imperfect, she taught and disciplined and loved as she thought best. But, God knows best. And in His kindness, He gave me His very best in her.

So when God tells me, “You do not realize what I am doing, but later you will understand,”

I am reminded of my mother’s discipline, and I understand.

When He answers my confusion with, “My ways are not your ways, and My thoughts are not your thoughts”

I am reminded of my mother’s wisdom and love.

Not that He reminds me of her, as though she was before Him, but that I recognize that every decision she has made and every attempt she has taken to love me was an introduction to the way God has perfectly loved me.