Lord, Have Mercy On My Child
Sunday, April 12
Exodus 2:1-4,7
On the Sunday that we studied the story of Jochebed, the mother of Moses, the sisters in the Women in the Word Sunday school class brought in baskets of all sizes. The center aisle of the sanctuary became our Nile. We lined it with a long sheet of filmy blue fabric, and we wrote the names of our children on small pieces of paper. Mothers scribbled the names of their sons with addictions and the names of their daughters who were on the spectrum. Silent tears welled up in the eyes of agonizing mothers, loving mothers whose adult children had not spoken to them in years. Daughters who had withdrawn and sons who were incarcerated. The names were put into the baskets. Slowly, prayerfully, each taking her own time, the women walked to the center aisle and placed the baskets into the blue expanse of our Nile River. Some mothers sat soberly. Others wept aloud. Lord, have mercy on my child.
What kind of faith must Jochebed have had to put her beautiful baby boy into that crocodile-laden river? Even with her bright, dutiful daughter Miriam watching from the river bank, only God could keep Moses. Only God could preserve him. Jochebed believed God, and on that same day the God in whom she invested her faith returned her baby boy to her arms. Jochebed’s faith led her to desperate, faith-filled action. And the God who honors faith with works rewarded her richly.
God of our mothers, we pray that you will also be the God of our children. May our daughters delight in your purpose. May our sons flourish in your presence. Have mercy on those who are in harm’s way. O Lord, remember the fruit of my womb. Lord God, have mercy on my child. Amen.
Where Could I Go But To The Lord?
Monday, April 13
1 Samuel 1:9-18
“Where could I go? Where could I go? / Seeking a refuge for my soul? / Needing a friend to save me in the end, / Where could I go but to the Lord?” (“Where Could I Go?” by J.B. Coats).
Shamed by a culture that valued women only for their ability to bear children, barren Hannah was at her wit’s end. Taunted and tormented by her adversarial, fertile sister-wife, to whom could Hannah turn? Misunderstood by her well-meaning husband, in whom could Hannah confide? Feeling betrayed by the womb that refused to produce what she desired most, where could Hannah find comfort? Misrepresented by Eli the priest, where could Hannah go but to the Lord? Hannah’s plight brings the words to the old hymn “Where Could I Go?” to mind.
“Hannah rose” (v. 9, KJV). She could not eat. She could not laugh or smile. When she could no longer fake it, Hannah rose. She got up from her family’s temporary encampment in Shiloh and made her way to the tabernacle where she wept bitterly, prayed sincerely, and made God a vow. If she were to become pregnant and bear a son, she would give her boy to the Lord to be God’s servant for the entirety of his life.
Samuel, the one-of-a-kind prodigy of a son whom God gave to Hannah, was a judge, a priest, and a prophet of God. Samuel shepherded Israel from the liminal period when judges led the nation to the time when monarchs ruled God’s people. Hannah’s desperation drove her to the tabernacle, then to her knees. While we are never encouraged to negotiate or bargain with the Most High, Hannah did just that. The blessing she received was not just one child, but six (v. 21).
Lord, when our souls need a refuge, remind us to rise and come to you. When our lives need saving, welcome us into your presence. Amen.
Don’t Tell Me What My God Can’t Do
Tuesday, April 14
Luke 1:5-7, 13-17, 24-25
I married for the first time at the age of forty-seven. The women in my church were very happy. The Nigerian parishioners had matching wedding ensembles tailor-made for my husband and me. They adorned our necks with colorful wedding beads and provided us with festive headgear for an African wedding march into our sanctuary. Before we processed in, we formed a circle, and they prayed that my (old lady) womb would be fruitful. They wanted me to have a baby. As my husband and I processed down the aisle to the sound of African drums, a senior member of our congregation, Mother Annie Mae, motioned us to come close. She was from South Carolina and had the same idea as our African members. She whispered to us, “Y’all make me a baby.” We assured her, with a chuckle, that we were too old for that. She responded, “Don’t tell me what my Gawd can’t do!”
I can’t imagine what Elizabeth was thinking when her pious husband, Zachariah, came home from temple service both unable to speak and full of passion. “Don’t tell me what my Gawd can’t do!” It’s hard to imagine what she made of her post-menopausal form as it swelled and rounded in a gestational response to the will of God. Scripture assures us that in nine months, her old lady body produced a baby boy, the likes of whom the world had never known. In Matthew 11:11 Jesus says of his cousin the prophet, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist.”
Mother Annie Mae knew what her God was capable of doing. And faithful Elizabeth saw for herself that the God she served was able to answer years-old prayers, rolling away shame and social stigma. “They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green they will remain” (Psalm 92:14, NIV). “Don’t tell me what my Gawd can’t do!”
Christ, our preserver, please fulfill your purpose and plan in our lives even if it takes longer than we anticipated. Cause the fruit we bear in old age to remain for your glory, in Jesus’s name. Amen.
The Devoted Life
Wednesday, April 15
LUKE 2:36-38
If Anna’s life was like that of many of her ancient Near Eastern peers, she would have been raised to be dutiful, helpful, hospitable, and submissive. She would have married just after her first menstrual cycle. Her husband would have been chosen for her by her parents, and she would have left their home when she married. She would have prayed to bear sons who could carry on her husband’s name and manage his inheritance.
If Anna’s destiny was like that of many of her peers, she would have borne as many children as her body could deliver, and she would have spent her days tending her home and her family. Her outdoor tasks may have included four to five hours of field labor and crop-tending. Her indoor tasks may have involved soaking, milling, and grinding grains to use for cooking and consumption. Flour had to be mixed, set to rise, and baked. Clothing for each of her family members had to be sewn. Wool had to be sheared; flax had to be prepared; thread had to be carded and spun. But Anna’s husband died just after their seventh anniversary. As a very young woman, she became a widow.
Anna was a devotee to the Lord. Her prophetic gifts made her different. Her ability to discern made her distinctive. Her destiny to dwell in the house of the Lord was different from that of other young women. Instead of remarrying, she gave herself to the call of God. She served God through the self-denial of fasting and the discipline of prayer.
Anna was called to live a life devoted to God. She was rewarded when her decades of prayers asking God to show her the Messiah were answered. There he was, an infant in her arms. There he was, the long-awaited hope and consolation of the nation. God gave her the desire of her heart. She gave God her entire life.
Summoning Savior, may we fall in love with your will, abandon our own, and live lives devoted to your purpose and plan. Amen.
The Irresistible Combination
Thursday, April 16
Mark 7:24-30
“Faith comes through hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17, NIV).
It is not clear how or when the Greek woman from Syrianphoenicia heard of Jesus and his power to heal, but she came to believe and receive both his message and his ministry of deliverance. This unnamed woman had faith that the Lord could address the cause of her distress. She may never have seen him exercise a demon, but she believed what she had heard about him. Now her own little girl was greatly troubled by an evil spirit. The woman’s faith, combined with her urgent need for the spiritual authority Jesus wielded, fueled her determination to meet him and plead her case.
We can assume that the encounter did not go as she had hoped. First, Jesus ignored her as she called after him. Then he told her that his ministry was exclusively for the Jews. He offered a metaphor that likened Jewish people to God’s children and Gentiles to the “little dogs” children have as pets. Undaunted, the woman was ready with an apt reply. Her response was witty, timely, and laden with humility. She did not respond angrily to his silence or his suggestion that his power was for the exclusive benefit of the Jews. She did not bristle at the reference to dogs under the table. Instead, she went along with the metaphor and argued for the deliverance of her daughter using the scenario Jesus presented to her.
This woman had humility and faith—an irresistible combination when it comes to pleasing and honoring God. James 4:6 reminds us that God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble. All things are possible for the one who believes (Mark 9:23). This desperate mother was flanked by the dynamic duo of faith in Christ’s ability and the humility God honors. Her reward was a miracle that occurred without a homily or a home visit. The Canaanite woman’s daughter was made well in the moment of her encounter with Jesus.
Mighty God, may faith and humility attract your miraculous power across the course of our daily lives, in Jesus’s name. Amen.
I Think I Can
Friday, April 17
Mark 5:25-34
When I was a little girl, my parents read me the story of The Little Engine That Could. The book had thick, cardboard-like pages with glossy illustrations. It depicted a small train with anthropomorphic facial features on the first car. When they read me the story, I appreciated the idea of toys being delivered to children in time for Christmas. That was important. But the story never knocked my socks off.
These days I like the story more than I did as a child. Now I know the feeling of facing daunting tasks with what seems like a paucity of inner resources. I have experienced long, uphill journeys with finish lines that seem distant and elusive. I know how it feels to bear too heavy a load. And I have come to appreciate the value of learning to speak life to myself when I am feeling uncertain and overwhelmed. “I think I can,” said the little engine as it persevered up the steep incline. “I think I can!”
For years the story of the bleeding woman in this passage was my favorite preaching subject. Her condition rendered her cultically impure, but she made her way to the Healer. Her condition labeled her ceremonially unclean, but she pressed her way through the crowd. She had to break the law to be out in public, but she crawled to Jesus. No one came to get her. No one seemed committed to helping her. She had faith in God and her own words to spur her on: “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed” (v. 28). Her confession was a catalyst for action. Life and death were in the power of her tongue (Proverbs 18:21).
I imagine her trembling hands grasping the hem of Jesus’s garment. Her faith registered in heaven, and God used the body of his yielded Christ to heal the anemic body of his daughter. She was healed before Jesus knew who touched him. And she was made whole once she told him her story. The words she spoke to herself moved her to life-restoring action. She thought she could and she did.
Holy Spirit, remind us to speak your word over our lives, especially when we are faced with impossible-looking challenges. We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us! Amen.
The Choice To Be Still
Saturday, April 18
Psalm 37:7
Stillness is not my jam. I’m a sister who keeps it moving. I come from a family of women who live that way. We ascribe value to proactivity, meaningful motion, forward progress, and task completion. Needless
to say, the command to be still in the presence of the Lord has not been one I have given the regard it is due.
The requirement that Christ-followers practice waiting for him—waiting with patience—challenges me to grow beyond my natural orientation. Once during a difficult stretch of life and ministry, I asked the Holy Spirit to give me a Scripture on which to meditate. Shortly thereafter, the words of Psalm 46:10 filtered through my spirit: “Be still and know that I am God.” I dismissed it quickly. That can’t be a word for me, I said to myself. Wrong frequency. I asked the Lord again for a Scripture. Later that week a member of my church gave me a gift with a card that highlighted the same text: “Be still and know that I am God.” The Scripture kept coming up again and again until I could no longer resent or resist it.
When we wait for the Lord in stillness, we acknowledge his sovereignty and we agree that he knows best. When we prayerfully wait for God to act, we exercise our faith in his kairos timing. Stillness flies in the face of our fast-paced culture and our work-obsessed social norms. Being still before the Lord provides us with time and opportunity to rest in his presence, seek his face, and receive holy revelation.
Even if busyness is the order of the day, God honors stillness. The Lord ordained the Sabbath so his people could rest in his presence. Our good Shepherd desires to lead us beside still waters. Jesus affirms Mary for sitting still while Martha is frenzied and frustrated by too much activity (Luke 10:42). He calls Mary’s choice to sit still a “better” choice than Martha’s insistence on busy service. Stillness is a periodic necessity. It is a spiritual practice that helps us to hear from God.
“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him” (v. 7).
Lord God, in our lives, may it be so. Amen.
