Are You My Mother?

Tell me, you who desire to be subject to the law, will you not listen to the law?  For it is written that Abraham had two sons, one by a slave woman and the other by a free woman.  One, the child of the slave, was born according to the flesh; the other, the child of the free woman, was born through the promise.  Now this is an allegory: these women are two covenants. One woman, in fact, is Hagar, from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery.  Now Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia and corresponds to the present Jerusalem, for she is in slavery with her children.  But the other woman corresponds to the Jerusalem above; she is free, and she is our mother. Galatians 4:21-26

If you have children or grandchildren you are probably familiar with P.D. Eastman’s classic children’s book entitled Are You My Mother?  It is the story of a baby bird who hatched while his mother was away, fell from the nest and sets out on a quest to find his mother by asking everyone he meets, including a dog, a cow and a steam shovel, this all important question.  In the end he finds her in one glorious moment of recognition.

My spiritual journey has been similar to that of the baby bird.  I was raised in a church which had, at the heart of its unique doctrine, the belief that Jesus is currently in heaven carefully reviewing the lives of those who profess to be Christians to see whether their profession is borne out by their behavior.  If so, they will be allowed into heaven; if not, they will be consigned to punishment with the devil and his minions. Consequently, this church also taught that no one should be so bold as to say “I am saved”, because our behavior changes from one day to the next.  The fear of complacency allowed no room for assurance.

I was a conscientious child and wanted more than anything to show Jesus that I was worthy.  I tried hard to do all the right things and not do the wrong things; but I was aware of my continued failures.  This led to my answering altar call after altar call where I would confess and promise once more to do better, only to fail again.  Literally by the grace of God I did not give up and walk away, but I lived in insecurity and fear until I was in my early thirties when God opened my ears to the proclamation of the Good News by a friend.  

Once I understood and accepted the fact that Jesus was actually in heaven applying his worthiness to my account in place of my unworthiness, my life was transformed!  I went from the status of being dead in my transgressions and sins to being alive with Christ!  I had nothing to prove because Jesus had proved it all on my behalf!  I was free!

Although I stayed awhile longer in the church of my childhood, I ultimately ventured out to find “my mother”, which in my mind was a church that would nurture me in my newfound faith in Christ.  I began my search with the faulty assumption that every other church but mine understood and taught the good news as I had come to understand it from scripture.  As a result, I found a church where the minister preached grace, and I joined.  Shortly thereafter that particular pastor was transferred and a new one arrived who did not share my love of the gospel.  However, because I had become quite active in that church and my young children were involved, I stayed.  I decided that, because the original preacher had taught grace, the church as a whole must not be opposed to it, so I felt free to share it in my own sphere.  I taught it in Children’s Church and I shared it in small groups; but mine was the only voice I heard proclaiming the good news. 

Since this was in a time before personal computers were common, I searched Christian radio for some water in my desert.  To my dismay, all I found was program after program proclaiming the bad news of how we should try harder to be better because we weren’t measuring up to what God expected of us.  Finally, I found Steve Brown’s Key Life broadcast which provided me with thirst quenching good news, so I immediately signed up for his free tapes and newsletter which were soon the only contact I had when his show was taken off the air in my area. Oh, how I looked forward to those tapes from Steve!

   

About the time my children began entering their teens, my oldest daughter was invited to a friend’s Youth Group.  After she had attended for several months, she said that she thought I would really like the church, especially the pastor.  So, on one Sunday when I wasn’t scheduled to do anything in my church, I attended a worship service.  Everything about that service touched my heart and fed my soul, especially the sermon, which was pure grace.  I was so moved that I decided to finish out the remainder of the year as far as my responsibilities in my church, and then to begin attending this church; which I did.  I thought I had found my mother at last! Of course, within a couple of years, that pastor moved on and a succession of ministers, whose understanding of the good news varied, came and went.  I stayed and shared with the teens what God was teaching me.

I have often wondered over the years why I seemed to be separated from others who believed and taught what I had found in scripture.  Recently, thanks to all of the available technology, I have discovered that there are and have been many over the centuries who have shared the same understanding of grace which has thrilled my heart for all of these years.  I am now eagerly broadening and deepening my understanding as I study their words.  But, I have come to an appreciation of why God, knowing me as he does, wanted me to confirm my beliefs through scripture alone before he showed me the vast number of people who believed in the same things. 

I was raised to accept what I was taught by those “in authority”.  The way the clergy interpreted scripture was what I assumed to be true.  When my friend initially told me the story of the gospel, I wanted desperately to believe it, but I was terrified I was in danger of believing a lie which would lead to my eternal destruction.  I couldn’t take anyone else's word for something that important, because I didn't know whose word to trust, so the Holy Spirit and I wrestled together through the book of Romans until he confirmed for me the truth of the good news. Then, and only then, I dared to believe. 

Through all of my years with no particular earthly mentor, the same Spirit opened scripture to me until I knew that I knew that I knew what I believed, as one of my pastors used to say.  As a result, my beliefs are mine.  Because of the way God made me, he knew it was important for me to know that what I believe is what I found in scripture and not what someone else found and told me to accept.  I am grateful for the people, like Steve Brown, which God allowed me to glimpse over the years to let me know that I wasn’t alone, but I’m also grateful that God directed my path in such a way that I would know for myself the reason for the hope that is in me.

I thought that my “mother” would turn out to be a nurturing denomination or local church; but, in one glorious moment of recognition I understood that, as Paul says in the verses above where he contrasts law and grace, I am a child of the free woman, born of a promise; the promise of a savior who offered me his worthiness for my unworthiness.  No matter where I go, grace will always be my mother.