#54. Stretched, Strained, Sustained
For years now, when people ask how I am, I’ve said, “stretched, strained, but sustained.” It’s the succinct-yet-honest version of, “I’m well thank you, (though not without complications)—and I could easily not be well—but, I am well (in some sense, if not in every way), because I know that the Lord is providing what I need for what he’d have me do (as a part of his upholding of all things, working in all things to achieve his glorious purposes); but he never provides in such a way that I feel like I am lord of anything.”
“Stretched, strained, sustained” is a loaded phrase. It is always true because there are always hard things and there are always merciful provisions.
Let’s say we’re persuaded that duty is a good thing given by God, within relationships he has ordained. We believe that we’re responsible for particular things when we become mothers, costly things which are easy to bypass in a twenty-first century Western society. There is a weight in doing these duties because they are away from the path of least resistance. Our own fallen natures make these duties feel difficult. Social and cultural norms also push us to set our duties aside. Forces without and within stretch us.
In the articles I’ve written, I’ve considered some of the good duty God has given in motherhood: learning to set aside what is normal in our culture, and learning to interrogate our own inclinations, in light of what God requires of us. The more we consider what it means to be a Christian mum, the heavier the weight can be. Some things get simpler and clearer, but that doesn’t mean easier. How can these be “light duties” when they feel so weighty in importance and difficulty? In what way are these “light duties”, when they stretch and strain? How are they “light duties” when they are a daily call to die?
We want a life that is weightless. But nothing is weightless. Every option in motherhood is costly. Avoiding the daily death of maternal duty doesn’t free us from the weight, it adds to it. The cost might be postponed, or even passed on to other people, but it’s there and multiplying. There is always a cost. We sacrifice joy when we avoid sacrifice.
We don’t live in a mathematical equation scratched out on paper, with all the components in view and everything resolving into tidy digits. Motherhood is full of addition and subtraction, but we can’t see all that is being given and taken. We receive more than we perceive and we give up things we don’t. Our ledger might say we’ll never make it, but there are unmapped, unsought wells. God revives us with water we haven’t worked for. His provision is precise and often surprising.
We, of all people, believe in something from nothing, life out of death, enemies adopted as sons, excess from inadequacy, fleeting made permanent, sinners made saints, yokes made easy and burdens made light. So alongside the stretch and strain—they are always there (or not far away)—there is optimism. We believe our heavenly Father is always sustaining his people. Always.
When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades. Revelation 1:17-18
Christian mothers, we follow a king who served his people to death, who was humbled to the depths then raised to life in glory. We fear not—not because it’s easy and safe. We fear not—because Jesus holds the keys to it all, even Death and Hades. Our duties are light, not because we are strong, but because Jesus was and is strong for us. He is alive and in charge and has purchased our perseverance.
We’re dying everyday, taking up our cross, following Jesus where he calls us to obey. Jesus’ call takes every one of us through a million little deaths, but not punitive deaths and he doesn’t leave us dead. Jesus’ Spirit provides whatever it takes to get us through to the great Resurrection. We can only handle the weighty duties, with a light touch and a light heart, as he works to make us alive, as he strengthens our feeble arms, as he sustains us on his strength. As we give in to the impossible difficulty, we find impossibly abundant Help. God brings about what we cannot.
Facing—feeling—our “cannot” (which is the thing about mothering we most try to flee from)—facing the daily death to ourselves; giving ourselves over to that discomfort is where we eventually find that God lightens. Often not in the same way twice and not in the same way for every mother. He is the One providing, either the lightening or the strengthening.
Weight, borne long enough, strengthens. God uses the steady stretch and strain to bring about a lightness. He changes the conditions sometimes, but mostly he changes us. Trust is proceeding, not knowing what that provision will be. Sometimes we won’t recognise what the provision was until we see with resurrected eyes.
We are sustained from unexpected, living springs, so let’s not be shy of the stretch and strain.
One gives freely, yet grows all the richer;
another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want.
Whoever brings blessing will be enriched,
and one who waters will himself be watered.
Proverbs 11:24-25
