Don’t Hurt My Baby! Christ’s Love and the Mama Bear Instinct

They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… Except a mama whose baby has been scorned, and that might scare the pants off the devil himself!

A few years ago my 4-year-old daughter started taking dance lessons. She loved the giant mirrors on the walls and the tap-tap-tap of her shoes on the hard floors, and I loved the small, Friday morning class where everyone knew each other. There was one girl in her class who was a close family friend of the studio’s owner, and the girl’s two adorable younger sisters were often sitting in the waiting area with me and the other moms during class. We often chatted about our kids and newfound role of “dance moms.”

One day after class, the toddler sisters of the girl in Princess’ class must have been hungry or cranky or I’m not sure what, but the owner opened a typically-locked door and came out with popsicles for all 3 of them. As my daughter looked on, she turned to me wistfully, longing for a treat for herself. The owner was handing out the popsicles as the other students were standing around, so I assumed those 3 had been the first recipients of special treats for the class. I smiled at my Princess and motioned for her to go stand behind the other girls to wait her turn. Grinning with anticipation, Princess politely waited as the owner passed out the 3 popsicles. However, her smile quickly faded when the owner turned around, closed the freezer, and shut the door behind her. Without even glancing down at my girl, she locked the door and went back to her office.

My Princess was bummed about not getting a special snack, but honestly, she got over it pretty quickly. I, however, flashed back to every moment of my dorky, awkward childhood, desperate to be accepted. In my daughter’s brief moment of preschool exclusion, I was swept under a massive wave of my own insecurities and buried hurt of being rejected over and over again.

Look, I know I overreacted, but to say I took it a little too hard would be doing me a very gracious favor by underestimating my obvious baggage. I was furious at the owner’s lack of consideration for the other students in the class, her apparent dismissiveness of my own precious angel, and at the other parents for not taking up arms with me. (Well, there were only 4 of us, so I guess it wouldn’t have been a very impressive revolt anyway.) But most of all I was hurt. Certainly the appropriation of my own feelings of rejection was overkill, but it was probably the first time I realized the critically important truth of being a mama bear:

Seeing my children hurt is far more painful than enduring it myself.

 Don’t Hurt My Baby

Last week I shared that loving my children is the purest, most effective way to love me. As parents, we see the long-term positive effects of having others care for our children, so it means that much more to us to see it happen with our own broods. In the same way, we know the scars that can come from even the most trivial slights by another (I’m sure I’m not the only one still carrying some baggage from my childhood hurts!) and dread our children experiencing the same. Whether it’s the helplessness of seeing our children in physical pain when they are sick or injured or the torture of watching them endure emotional pain from a mean kid, unfair teacher, or a shocking encounter with the real world, our souls bleed when our children hurt.

It’s a trait we inherited from our Father when we were made in His image…

God has always been concerned with the needs of his beloved. Jesus reminded us in Matthew 22:37-40 that the entire story of Divine work in humanity is centered on love – love for Himself and love for others. The Lord’s heart is especially tender toward the poor, the helpless, and the vulnerable – much like our own children.

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” James 1:27

“Learn to do right; seek justice.
    Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
    plead the case of the widow.” Isaiah 1:17

“This is what the Lord says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.” Jeremiah 22:3

“Don’t rob the poor just because you can,
    or exploit the needy in court.
For the Lord is their defender.
    He will ruin anyone who ruins them.” Proverbs 22:22-23

“What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say, ‘Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well’—but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?” James 2:14-16

Jesus went so far as to say hurting his children is a direct wound to God himself:

 “Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons. For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’

“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’

“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’”

Matthew 25:41-45

The Mama Bear Instinct

Parents are fiercely defensive of their young: it’s an instinctive response to threats that has helped our species survive. We hurl ourselves into gorilla pens dangerous circumstances to protect our children from physical harm; we monitor travel and lifestyle choices – even decisions about vaccines – to protect our children from illness; we step onto the playground or lunch room or whatever social situation to protect our children from emotional harm. As parents, we are compelled by nature and compassion to tend to the needs of the ones whom we love.

God mysteriously chooses to use human connections to accomplish his work in humanity; therefore he has charged us with the task of looking out for each other. Jesus said it this way:

“So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.” John 13:34-35

Christ took care of the finishing work to protect us against the work of the enemy. His atoning death on the cross and victorious resurrection from the tomb defeated death and sin once and for all. Now, with access to the living power of God through the Holy Spirit, there is nothing holding us back from living out the Kingdom of God…

…Except ourselves.

Are we caring for the needs of the poor, helpless, and vulnerable? Can others identify us as disciples of Christ by our love for one another? Do we truly love our neighbor as ourselves? Are we only looking out for those who are like us, or do we follow the biblical precedent and invite everyone to the table?

If we understood our offenses against one another as offenses against God himself…

If we all truly lived by that Golden Rule that parents of all faiths and non-faiths teach their children – “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (Luke 6:31)…

If we applied our Mama Bear instincts to all of God’s children and not just our own…

Then we would be fulfilling that Kingdom work of really loving our neighbors. If we want to love God, we start by loving each other.

“Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

To Love Me Well… Love My Children

How can I have a relationship with a God I can’t see?

Last week we celebrated my son’s 6th birthday. The party was more than a month after his actual birthday, but he insisted on having a bounce house and sprinklers, so a belated celebration it was. We settled on Memorial Day weekend with an inflatable water slide that turned our backyard into a swamp suitable for Yoda to train young Jedi warriors, but hey, it was fun, right??

We hosted a gaggle of children in addition to my own crew, all precious to my Sweet Prince. However, the ones who stole my heart weren’t there for the water slide. Of course, that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t get some play time in…

These two may have been the wettest of the bunch, but there were others who showed up to love my boy with wicked Nerf guns and Pokémon cards before they went about their adulting business. Yes, these special guests are grown men and women, not related to us, no kids of their own, with nothing obligating them to a 6-year-old’s birthday party when they could totally be out doing grown-up things like driving motorcycles or whitewater rafting or shopping for appliances… And yet they came.

They come over and over again, week after week, year after year. They come to birthday parties, preschool graduations, and over for dinner when my socialite 8-year-old begs for “company.” They make Play Doh creations, give us special treatment when we visit them at work (Chick-fil-A, of course), teach the kids’ classes at church, and model a life that is following Jesus. They simply love my children, and in turn, they are loving me.

Love me well

One of the great mysteries of faith is the idea of loving a being which we cannot experience with our 5 senses. Certainly we can connect with the divine in less tangible ways – the work and power of the spiritual realm is often misunderstood and vastly underrated by the exhibitionism of the internet age – but aside from recognizable theophanies, interacting with an invisible God can feel like explaining Pinterest to your great-grandmother… Where do you even begin??

Jesus was once posed a similar question:

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Matthew 22:36-40

The Pharisees get a bad rap for being the bad guys in the Gospels, but truth be told, the whole Pharisaical movement was born out of that one question: how can I have a relationships with a God I can’t see? 

Seeking to understand the Mosaic traditions of Judaism in their contemporary context, the Pharisees wanted to shift the focus of Hebrew worship from temple sacrifice to personal study and prayer. Their endless lists of rules missed the heart of the Law, to be certain, but ultimately, they were asking the same questions we are. Their answer landed on legalism; Jesus pointed to loving people. 

Love my children

To anyone who is a parent, it should come as no surprise that the best way for us to love God is to love his children – each other. He spent over half of the Ten Commandments (plus the majority of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy that you never read because it feels rote) telling us how to respect one another, and the critiques of literally every minor prophet in the Old Testament boil down to Israel failing to care for the needs of her most vulnerable people groups.

Jesus’ entire ministry is devoted to loving God’s children. His miracles may be symbolic of large-scale principles, but let’s not forget they were still worked through individuals. He saw the needs right in front of him, and then he met them. We ought to take that as lesson #1 of “How to Be Like Jesus.” In Matthew 25, he gives us this familiar parable:

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

Matthew 25:34-40

If I had the job of writing section subheadings in the Bible, this one would be, “Jesus Tells Us How We Can Love a God We Can’t See.” It’s so simple: love his people.

We are created to live in community, and family is both the primary foundation of community and the primary vehicle through which God demonstrates his relationship to us and vice versa. We are most moved when others minister to our children, therefore, so is God.

If you are new to following Jesus, or if you’re considering it but not sure where to start, look to the greatest commandments – the second answers the “how” of the first! Love God, and love your neighbor. Look at the needs right in front of you, and meet them. Mentor a kid. Help someone who is struggling. Visit someone who is alone. Feed someone who is hungry. Get involved in community. That’s where the magic happens, because that’s where God’s heart is.

God is saying to us now, To love me well… Love my children.

Everyday Worship

This article originally appeared in the November 2015 edition of the Church of God Evangel, a magazine that brings inspiring, intentional, and empowering stories and articles to its readers. Click here to view the publication online or download a PDF.

It was a Thursday at 4:45 pm when our whole house was rushing around to get out the door. My husband, Jeremy, was taking our 3 oldest children to watch some of the middle schoolers in our youth group play their first volleyball game of the season. Meanwhile, I nursed our 3-week-old baby in hopes he would sleep in the Moby wrap while I attended a parent meeting for our new kindergartener. As Jeremy supervised everyone buckling into the van, he noticed a wet spot in our garage.

Stop everything – we had a leak.

We have pretty much no plumbing skills whatsoever, and even small leak looks enormous when it has been dripping for who-knows-how-long. We left messages for a few plumbers, but we feared how we could pay for their services with all the recent expenses of a new baby. Jeremy called our friend Bob, a retired pastor who now works as an insurance adjustor and handyman.

Within minutes, Bob was on the scene with his tools in hand. Not only did he stop the leak, but he returned the next morning with the parts to fix the piping, a fan to dry out the soggy cabinets, a level to entertain my curious little boys while they watched him work, and a promise to help with whatever further damage might come as a result. And he didn’t charge me a penny.

For Bob Shook, his service to my family is not just to my family, it is unto the Lord. He practices what he preached for many years: worship is not about a song or performance; it’s surrendering everything that we do to honor the Lord and to love His people.

In Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus tells a familiar parable about sheep and goats – the “sheep” that obeyed God’s commandments and the “goats” that missed the mark. I heard this story scores of times growing up in the church, and it was always used to motivate Christians to service – to “be Jesus” to someone in need. However, when we look at the text, quite the contrary is true:

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’

Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’”

When we serve others, we are not “being Jesus” to them. Rather, those we serve are identified with Jesus, so our service to them is direct service to Him. That’s worship.

Maybe plumbing isn’t your thing either, but that doesn’t mean you can’t worship the Lord through serving your neighbor. Next time you mow your grass, take an extra 20 minutes and mow for the widow next door too. Make a meal for someone who is grieving. Host a baby shower for a single mom who is scared she can’t make it on her own. Bring your kids to a nursing home to read to the residents. Clean house for a new mom who hasn’t slept since the baby was born. Pay for the person beside you at Chick-fil-A whose credit card won’t run. Be honest in your business dealings, and seek to serve before you make a buck.

There are so many ways to worship because there are so many ways we live. Rather than putting worship in the box of a church setting, look at your life and what you’re already doing. Ask God to show you how to use those daily activities to honor him. And when you ask, you will receive.

New Beginnings // Painful Endings

from TobyMac Facebook page

Today is a new beginning. But it kinda hurts.

Early in December, 2004, a 19-year-old college sophomore and her fiancé walked into a new church. (Okay, it was me, so we can drop the third person speak now.) We were looking for a church home to call “ours” as we transitioned into our new life together. We had heard that an old family friend had recently become pastor of this church, so we stopped in to visit.

That morning service included a drummer with 80’s hair and 80’s rocker gloves, a worship parody of a secular song, some awkward moments and imperfections. It also included a hug and kiss from an elderly woman who immediately treated us like her grandkids, a brief conversation with a man who told us how much he loved this church, an apology from the girl sitting behind us regarding that worship parody, an immediate invitation to get plugged in to serving, and lunch with that new pastor and his goofy 8-year-old son who immediately won our hearts.

We were home.

A few months later we were married on that stage. We were invited to start a brand new ministry for pre-teens, and to be honest, I didn’t want to do it. That age is so… Okay, do you remember being 11? Yeah, THAT. But God immediately gave us a heart for those kids, and one extra special kid to make every Sunday with them worth it. Then we were invited to join the staff part-time as Children’s Pastors, another role I didn’t think we were quite suited for, but God knew what he was doing. We fell in love with those kids and our time with them. Some of my favorite ministry moments involve grape juice boxes and Ritz crackers, teaching K-4th graders about communion.

Then the Lord and our pastor invited us on what has proven to be the most remarkable journey of our lives when, in February of 2007, my husband left his job to enter full-time ministry as the youth pastor at “our” church. I’ll never forget that first Wednesday when we introduced ourselves and overhearing a couple of students talking about me, saying, “I think she’ll be AWFUL.” I smiled and stepped into the conversation, assuring them I would only be as awful as they forced me to be. Those students captured my heart and became some of the closest, most valuable relationships we have had in our ministry.

Jeremy and I have been through a lot with this church body. We have seen probably hundreds of students filter through our doors over the years, some flitting in and out for lock-ins and retreats while others endured the blessings and curses of a small-ish youth group. Those enduring ones worked alongside us to grow and develop the group. They welcomed accountability and discipleship and “became their own evangelists,” a phrase I recently heard as a scoffing remark at the impossibility of getting students to do so. Some were overwhelmed by the challenges and gave up. Some wrestled with their faith and came through stronger. Some graduated, moved away, and lost touch. Some are my best friends today.

We have spent countless hours with teenagers on mission trips, service projects, retreats, conferences, Wednesday services, driving for 956,324 hours to the beach, playing basketball at the Civic Center, drinking coffee at Panera Bread with my baby in tow, and spending off-campus lunches at the church. I do not regret one single hour.

Our teens were hungry for the Word and begged Jeremy to start an extra Bible study outside the usual church times. They were the biggest supporters of an off-campus community outreach we started to “adopt a block” in our city and love on that neighborhood. Some of them continued that ministry when other obligations forced us to step out of it. Teenage girls have knitted scarves and made jewelry and stuffed goody bags for me to deliver to my friends in the strip clubs, and they have done so with such love and tenderness and never an ounce of judgment. Our teens started their own Bible studies and outreach projects we have been honored to support. They have made us so proud.

Our pastor trusted us completely with the students in his church, including his own son. He allowed us to try things that were out of the box – some worked, others didn’t – and he had our backs when criticism inevitably arose. He is an incredibly rare type of leader who is exactly the same person on stage and in the office and in his own home. We always knew who we were talking to, even when we disagreed. He didn’t fire us for the time(s) my husband punched (and dented) a metal door or the time our super fun and exciting event landed 3 kids in the emergency room, although he probably thought about it. Thanks for that, man. (However, that super fun and exciting event was henceforth forever banned…)

This church body has raised us from literal teenagers (well, for a few months anyway) to actual capable adults. They have prayed with and for us. I have been honored to serve in the nursery with women who chatted and shot the breeze and didn’t realize they were mentoring me as a mother. They poured in their honest and vulnerable stories of raising their own children, imparting their wisdom of hindsight while encouraging me that it’s okay to not have it all together. The church has supported us spiritually, emotionally, and financially. They welcomed with us the births of our 3 children… and the few who knew mourned with us when we lost two children in 2014. We were all eager to celebrate the healthy pregnancy I am currently carrying, but as one student said, “I wish this baby was OUR church baby.”

Because today is a new beginning as my husband walks through the doors of a different church, to a different office, with a different flock to shepherd. This is a wonderful opportunity for a new beginning, but it comes with a painful ending. Yesterday we were honored by “our” cherished church family as we said goodbye to that home of the last decade. God has called us into a new season of ministry, one which honestly has been difficult for me to accept.

Sometimes a new beginning really feels like a painful ending. But the pain does not negate the beauty of the promise. I have learned that sometimes we need to sit in that pain and allow ourselves to feel it in order to move past it. The last few weeks have been so difficult to wrap my head around starting over, but God’s grace has been so overwhelmingly great that I have never been so sure in my life that we are right in step with God’s purpose and plan. And sometimes the beauty of the promise doesn’t wipe away the pain of the moment. But it is worth the struggle.

To all who have been on this journey with us over the last decade, thank you – with everything that is in me, thank you. To my beloved students – from the redheaded duo of terror (who became the joy of my heart) to the SnapChatting, hashtag-creating, inside-joking loves in my group today – If I could put you inside my heart, I would just squish you with my incredible love for you! To the students and families coming in the next season of our lives, I cannot wait for the beauty of this promise. I love you already…

Now let’s do this.

Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God. I always pray for you, and I make my requests with a heart full of joy because you have been my partners in spreading the Good News about Christ from the time you first heard it until now. And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus comes back again.

“It is right that I should feel as I do about all of you, for you have a very special place in my heart. We have shared together in the blessings of God [in the good times and the bad]… God knows how much I love you and long for you with the tender compassion of Christ Jesus. I pray that your love for each other will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in your knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until Christ returns. May you always be filled with the fruit of your salvation – those good things that are produced in your life by Jesus Christ – for this will bring much glory and praise to God.”

Philippians 1:3-11

I’m Sorry for Judging You

Confession time:  I did something I regret yesterday.

I walked into Chick-fil-A with my two preschool-aged boys, as we often do when we need to get out of the house but I can’t really think of anything to do. This day, in particular, we had actually made it to the gym for my yoga class (20 minutes late, but hey, we made it!). I’m 5 1/2 months pregnant, but I look 8 months, and of course not even spandex will fit, so I was wearing my husband’s gym shorts and one of his t-shirts. My swollen calves were on brilliant display between the oversized shorts and my bright purple tennis shoes, which are the only shoes I can stand to wear for more than 30 minutes at a time these days. My hair was frizzy from being curly the day before and not having time to wash it that morning, so I threw it up in a bun atop my make-up-less face. Simply stated, I was straight up People of Walmart* material.

*It should be noted that I shop at Walmart all the time, and I love it because no one freaking cares. That’s actually quite a beautiful thing. I’ll write more about that one day…

But I didn’t go to Walmart; I went to the fancy gym among all the fit people with their spandex and weight racks, then to Chick-fil-A – the classiest of all fast-food establishments – where the folks asking “would you like waffle fries with that?” look more put together than I do, and they politely smile and tell me it’s their pleasure to serve my sloppy self and kids who obviously dressed themselves.

My boys immediately ran to the play area, as is their custom, while I got our food. Luckily I scored the perfect seat, the booth right next to the play area window, so I can eat my food – still hot! – while the kids play. I sat down and watched through the window, content to go ahead eating my chicken strips (and side salad… hey, I tried) without letting the kids know their meal was also available.

That’s when I saw her: a mom sitting in the play area watching her child – another woman who, like myself, didn’t seem much concerned with impressing anyone. She was wearing cotton shorts and a t-shirt with flip flops, but what I really noticed was her hair. It was dyed different shades of purple and blue, but by now it was badly faded. Usually when I see someone with wild colored hair I get excited and compliment them, a simple courtesy that meant a lot to me when I was sporting pink locks a couple of years ago. For some reason, this day, I didn’t. Instead, my only thought was, Sheesh, that color looks awful when it’s faded like that. You can’t wear that color if you’re not going to keep it up.

Then I noticed her daughter, just a toddler. I started to jump up and remind my rambunctious boys to be careful around the baby, like I usually do when there are itty bitties in the play area with them. But I stopped and watched this little girl for the worst possible reason: she looked different. She had a large bump on her forehead, unlike anything I had ever seen. I glanced at her often, trying to hide my curiosity, wondering if it was a pump knot like my kids have gotten or… gasp! What if this child is abused? Now, truthfully, this bump was unusual, but why did I jump to that conclusion?

I finally got up from my seat and went to tell my boys to be careful. When I got in, I walked right past the other woman without even looking at her. My 4-year-old was standing next to the little girl, and he reached out to touch the bump on her head. He giggled, “Look, Mommy! She has a BIIIGGG bump, and it’s squishy!”

I was mortified that he said this right in front of her mother, and I got nervous about how to respond. I quietly replied, “Yes, she does, but it’s not nice to touch people’s faces. You need to leave her alone and watch out because she’s small.”

“But look how big…” he interrupted, “and it’s squishy! That feels weird!” He and my other son snickered.

My back was to the mother, so I couldn’t gauge if I needed to reprimand him or calmly say something about how our differences make us special, but it didn’t matter. No words would come out of my mouth. I just stared at him until finally the mother sweetly chimed in, “Yeah, it does feel funny! It’s actually a birthmark, and it should go away by the time she’s your age.”

Now I knew I had failed Sensitive Mothering 101. Not only did I not help the situation of my own children teasing someone else for being different, but I had actually assumed the mark was a sign of abuse, and honestly, it was because of the mother’s appearance.

This mother and her daughter eventually moved to the booth behind mine when they got their food. As I overheard snippets of their mealtime conversation, I determined that this woman is a loving, attentive, good parent. Maybe she was overly sweet because she sensed my judgment and wanted me to hear, but really, does that matter? She had every right to make me feel like the slug I was.

Please know, this scenario is not normal for me. I am generally very friendly and will make conversation with anyone nearby, especially someone who looks like she did. I am often intimidated by moms who are wearing clothes and makeup and have their hair fixed when they run errands with the kids, so I reach out to the care-free moms that do what they gotta do to get out the door. Solidarity, girl.

Honestly, I don’t know why this day was different from others. Probably it’s because I have been depressed lately, feeling frustrated that my constant fatigue keeps me from being productive, and annoyed that none of my clothes – even maternity clothes – fit. I don’t feel like myself, which is pretty much a defining characteristic of pregnancy in general, but for some reason it has gotten me particularly down as of late. I could write a book on that, but the point is that I was thinking selfishly.

Now, I’m not saying depression is inherently selfish – I have walked that road and fought that battle, and if you are there, know that you are not a bad person and you certainly are not alone. But being depressed makes us feel not ourselves, and that can lead to thinking selfishly when generally you wouldn’t. Selfish thinking is giving so much attention to yourself and your own issues that you don’t value or respect other people. Yes, judging others is really about being selfish – putting someone else down to somehow lift ourselves up. The depression I have been walking through caused me to look at another mom who is probably a lot like me and we should totally be friends and thinking she doesn’t care about her own appearance, so she must not care about her child.

Geez, I hope no one around me thinks that way, because I am a hot mess.

In Romans, the Apostle Paul reminds us how selfish thinking leads us to devalue those around us:

“Because of the privilege and authority God has given me, I give each of you this warning: Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us.”

Romans 12:3

He goes on to talk about how the body has many parts, and as followers of Jesus, we are the Body of Christ. Each part serves its own purpose, and to value one over the other because of the way it looks or the dignity of its job is missing the point of the organic function. When we look at those around us and put them down, we are missing the point. We can’t evaluate the fulfillment of our purpose based on the way we look or dress or what color our hair is. What matters is if I am using the gifts God has given me and living according to the faith he has given me. If I am doing those things, the only thing I will feel for those around me is love and compassion. Rather than judging that mom or hurrying out of the room after my 4-year-old acted like a 4-year-old, I should have sat down on the bench next to her and asked about her daughter, her family, and even tell her about the time I had pink hair.

After all, I’m used to eating my food cold.