When HOPE becomes an idol, confessions of a warrior mom.

Oh I have been wrestling with the Lord a lot lately, okay, the last 10 years or so. A couple months ago God showed me that in a matter closest to my heart-and one that causes pain I never dreamed of-that instead of clinging to Christ I’d clung to hope. Hope is a wondrous thing. It’s a good thing and often in my life I cling to things that my Bible tells me are good things: holiness, faith, hope, and love, etc.

Can hope become an idol?I guess so, for me anyway. I had built hope up into something that became my rock. 

“The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower. (Psalms 18:2)” 

It does not say hope is my rock. No wonder my walk with God lost its vibrancy. I have hoped beyond hope for a situation to be reconciled…or more honestly put, “fixed to my satisfaction, for my joy”. I was with a couple other moms retreating for a night and as I sat alone in the lobby of this old hotel in the morning with my Bible, I recognized that God was calling me out. (I told my friends I felt “spanked”.) I was wrong. My hope is IN HIM, not in hope. I am to cast all my cares on HIM, not in hope that they get better or that the difficulties my son experiences with autism magically depart. I think it was easier to hope in hope, so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of not having my prayers answered the way I want. I have often hated the “A” word (aka autism) for so many reasons . Mostly because it feels like "it" steals the best of who my son is and steals peace and joy from our home. It feels like a tool of the enemy who wants to steal everything good and cause destruction of hurricane proportions.

The last couple of weeks I have wrestled with God over pulling our son from public school. I have asked God (yes, I am ashamed), “Please don’t make me do this, anything but this”. I am not up to the task. My marriage will suffer. As little as I get out now…poof, now even less! Lunch dates with girlfriends will really never happen. Hubby and I will never have another lunch “date”. Great, kill me now.

I have been willing to serve God, even suffer for Him, but I have always wanted to choose HOW. 

I am so wrong, about so much. My love that I consider pure and unshakeable for God is really conditional. I want Him to have all of me…on my terms. Oh, that is so hard to type. I am selfish and lack trust. I have bucked the mantle of “suffering servant”. Christ washed the feet of his disciples and said we should do the same. It sounds nice, sure okay, I can do that. Can I really? Do I? I realized when it is for people who love me back, I can. When it’s from someone who essentially just takes and takes, sometimes cursing me in the process, I’m not so willing.

I would stand in front of a bullet for this boy-and my other 3 kids- or take the charge of an angry bear. I know without a shadow of a doubt that is true. How can I be so unwilling to keep pouring out love, in a different way, in the service of home schooling?

I don’t really want to attempt the hard stuff feel all challenged and actually experience failure on a regular basis. I have to lay it all out for God and ask Him to show me the ick…I know it’s there. I just want to ignore it and make some brownies. However, my true heart for Him is manifest in how I deal with suffering.

Am I really willing to share in the suffering of my Lord and Savior or do I just talk a good game?

As a mom I have felt suffering. Parenthood opens your soul up wide to every potential kind of hurt that exists. Am I ready to embrace it in a way that allows God to change me into someone who may one day resemble his Son, the One who modeled perfect love? Do I just want to use my suffering to commiserate with other moms and let them know they are not alone? Suffering, Lord, any kind, let me be willing to walk through it with You.

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.”

—2 Corinthians 4:8-11

So much comes down to fear and pride in this one question for me, “What if I’m not enough?!” I have asked it and felt it for much of my life. The answer? Who the heck is? That’s why I need Jesus, that is why HE suffered. I am NOT enough, only He is. In surrender, I see that autism can be a tool in which God continues to scrape away the selfish, peace and joy seeking parts of my character. When that happens, maybe I will really learn what it means to seek Jesus, wholeheartedly. Maybe, homeschooling is the screen upon which my son will be able to see Jesus in his mommy. I’ve tried to show him in countless other ways for years, but maybe this will be the venue, time, and place that God will capture his attention and his heart. That makes me smile and feel strangely unafraid for what’s to come.