Your Kingdom Come

I have written this a thousand times, it seems. It is written over again everyday of my life. A hard, lovely, sad, heart-wrenching, beautiful story. The story of motherhood. As our season of birthdays culminates with my beautiful daughter turning twelve on Friday, celebrating the last year of her childhood, and as Mother's Day approaches on Sunday, my heart hurts. It is that same hurt that fills your heart when you first fall in love. A hurt that comes from deep affection. A fear that knows that to love deeply is to risk hurting deeply.

In Luke 12, as in so much of Scripture, Jesus reminds us to seek heavenly, eternal things. To seek His kingdom, which will not fade, verses our own, which most certainly will. In Luke 11, Jesus grants His disciples' request to teach them how to pray. And He begins with the prayer our hearts should constantly be crying: Father, may the holiness and glory of Your name be constantly made known. May Your kingdom, Your plans, Your ways, Your priorities come here and now.

As I asked myself in what ways am I seeking my kingdom and my glory and my earthly desires rather than the Lord's, the story of love and hurt and letting go was written on my heart by my tender, loving Father once again.

Your children.

As the dreaded Graduation Sunday was celebrated in our church two days ago, my heart and my eyes overflowed with tears. I could not stop it, no matter how embarrassing it was for someone who rarely cries, much less in public. No, I do not yet have a graduate. But much too soon for me, I will. And each year as this occasion is marked at church, I am one year closer to launching my little birds out of my nest.

I want them to stay. I want to cling to them. I want to be the mama of littles forever. It is hard when they're small and life is stressful and overwhelming, but it is my dream come true. When I kiss their little faces and wipe their little noses and listen to their silly stories, my heart finds happiness. My life finds purpose and meaning. I am content. It feels like heaven.

But it is not.

Heaven is where we will exist forever with our Beloved Jesus, face to face, without sin or suffering or pain. Without ever having to let go.

But earth is about letting go. Because of the curse of sin, it is all passing away and we are meant, in the letting go, to set our longing hearts on Jesus. We are meant to seek God's glory in and through it all, not our own happiness or momentary pleasure.

So again today, the Lord has reminded me that to hang on, to cling to, to desire their childhood forever is to seek my own glory, my own kingdom, my own happiness. It is not meant to be. For me to pray His prayer for my children, His children, means to pray that they grow, prepared for life and in love with Him, and fulfill their purpose in bringing Him glory. In bringing a little of His kingdom to this earth.

They are not here for my pleasure alone. They are not mine. They were created, as we all are, for His pleasure. They are His. And it is not my place to rob God of His glory or His pleasure. It is my blessed place to allow Him to work through me in their lives to guide their hearts to His glory. It is my privilege to play a small part in His children's lives and, in that participation in His work, to participate in His coming kingdom.

He does not leave me empty. He offers to fill those deep, hurting places with Christ Himself. He holds out the hope of heaven and eternity where we will not grow old and where there will be no more letting go. There will only be blessed Jesus. I want to share that joy with my children. And that means letting them go, a little at a time.

Oh, how my heart longs for heaven, where these bittersweet Mama tears will be wiped away by my Savior.

“Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come."


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