To The Mama Wearied And Worn, Come

Church life with a baby is hard. I forgot how hard.

I haven’t heard a full sermon in over half a year now. The messages are fragmented: bits here and there, snatches of verses and sentences caught and quickly forgotten as I scurry out to quiet a hungry babe. I sit in the nursery, rocking and burping. Sometimes the sermon plays through the speaker, sometimes it doesn’t. Most often us moms are all too distracted by feeds and naps and foul-smelling diapers to hear the words anyway.

Come to me all who labour and are heavy laden.

The invitation presses against my soul. To come and lay down my aches and my insecurities, my doubts and my fears, and to simply sit in His presence. To stop striving and simply worship.

This is a season too.

It’s a season of tender sacrifices and fierce love, of midnight prayers and restless nights. It’s a season of big emotions: of anxiety and joy, insecurity and gratitude, of hearts full enough to burst and bodies exhausted.

And sometimes, this season is just plain hard.

But it doesn’t matter where we gather on Sunday mornings. It doesn’t matter if our hair has been tied back in a mom bun for the three weeks straight, or if our jeans are stained with spit-up. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the pew or in the church nursery or in the well-worn seat of our rocking chair at home. He meets us there.

Come to me and I will give you rest.

These words echo still. To come. As I am. Even in this season. Even when it’s hard. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when I feel inadequate. When life throws its worst and when life gives you its best. 

Even then. Come.

To come before Him not just on Sundays but daily. Moment by moment, offering up all that we are and all that we have.

To come to Him when we’re feeling weak and worn because He is fully capable of carrying even the heaviest of loads.

To come when we’re feeling “less than” because we were created in the image of a just, merciful, and gracious God who knows us intimately. There is no need to fit any mold besides the one He created you in.

To come when we feel inadequate because we don’t have to strive for salvation. We don’t have to work for it. His grace covers it all.

To come when we’re laid low by the burden of sin because His great sacrifice redeems even the messiest and most broken of hearts. The cross is sufficient and in Him, there is transformation. There is victory.

To come because it’s not about us. We are called to worship, to praise, to GLORIFY Him. No matter our failures and aches, He is still worthy.

So come.

No matter what you’re carrying. No matter what this season looks like.

Come.

 


To The Mama Wearied and Worn, Come

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