We’re now a year into the Covid-19 pandemic and the resulting restrictions. The impact has been far ranging and has impacted us all. Hopefully the end is in sight now, but if you’re feeling like you’ve been battered along the way then this is a blog post for you…
To the first time mum who doesn’t know if their baby blues is normal or post-natal depression; who craves a community of other mums, who misses work and is exhausted and lonely and wonders if it will always be this hard – I see you.
To the mother struggling with remote learning for an older child and recovery from a new born baby – I see you.
To the mum who has no childcare bubble and lives in a different part of the country from her family, who longs for her own mother but hasn’t seen her for many months – I see you.
To the woman who has experienced motherhood for a few fleeting weeks, before her baby drained from her body, and who has had no one to sit in her house with her as she grieves – I see you.
To the healthworker mum who is struggling first-hand with the trauma of the pandemic, while trying to make sure her children are being educated in school, all the while feeling depleted and guilty and overwhelmed at the weight of all she carries and how she can’t possibly meet all the need – I see you.
To the mum who has been attempting to work from home while helping her children to engage with online lessons, who feels stressed and undervalued and like this juggling act simply wouldn’t be expected if she wasn’t female – I see you.
To the woman trying to decide whether to try for a baby at this time, who is afraid about complications or risk to a pregnancy, who is kept awake at night thinking of all the different scenarios and is uncertain and afraid of what to do – I see you.
To the mum who has longed for a baby and is finally expecting one, or has had one – but very few people got to rejoice with her with her growing bump, her pregnancy glow, or the first few precious weeks or months of her baby’s life – I see you.
To the woman who longs to be a mum and lockdown has emphasised that she’s not one – her friends are all busy homeschooling their children, while she is not, but wishes she was – I see you.
To the mum who had a premature baby during lockdown, who worried about them being exposed to Covid-19 in hospital, and who couldn’t show her baby to their new grandparents until they were several months old – I see you.
To the mum who is struggling with a deep sense of failure. She thought she could manage through this lockdown and provide a safe haven for her children, she thought she could do it fantastically – but she just feels shame. She reflects on the mistakes, the raised voices, too much screen time – she just feel like she doesn’t match up to her own expectations of what a mum should be – I see you.
To the mum who is a teacher. Who loves her pupils and wants them to grow educationally. Who is constantly re-learning how to do her job in bubbles, online, with new guidance. Who is completely and utterly exhausted and bamboozled and who feels like she’s questioning if her job resembles anything like what she trained for – while still trying to care for her own children – I see you.
To the mum who has struggled with anger, frustration, tears, alcohol, depression, compulsive online buying, self-hatred, disengaging with church, fear or any other thing that she knows in her heart has been going on – I see you.
But far, far more important than me seeing you, I want you to know this –
HE sees you.
Jesus sees us in our grief, our confusion, our sorrow, our shame, our fear, our overwhelm, our sin and our brokenness. And far from raising his eyebrows or recoiling in disgust, his heart goes out to us. He is filled with sympathy for us. His heart is full of compassion and love towards us. He intercedes for us and acts on our behalf – our advocate, our saviour and our high priest.
Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. 16 Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
Hebrews 4:13-16
We do not need to sort ourselves out, scrub ourselves down, put on our Facebook persona to come to God.
No.
We come as we are, and find him waiting with arms outstretched to help us. To sympathise with us in our sorrows and heartaches. To forgive us. To remind us that we are loved and precious and accepted and delighted in by him. Now and forever. We can confidently approach God’s throne. His throne of grace.
I’ve been reading Dane Ortland’s Book Gentle and Lowly which I would highly recommend. He reflects on the heart of Christ towards sinners and sufferers. If you’ve ever doubted God’s love for you then this is a wonderful balm to the soul, and a great reminder of all that is ours through the grace of Jesus Christ; that he looks on us with love and affection regardless of and in the midst of our shortcomings.
Here’s a quote:
“God didn’t meet us halfway. He refused to hold back, cautious, assessing our worth. That is not his heart. He and his Son took the initiative. On terms of grace and grace alone. In defiance of what we deserved. When we, despite our smiles and civility, were running from God as fast as we could, building our own kingdoms and loving our own glory, lapping up the fraudulent pleasures of the world, repulsed by the beauty of God and shutting up our ears at his calls to come home—it was then, in the hollowed-out horror of that revolting existence, that the prince of heaven bade his adoring angels farewell. It was then that he put himself into the murderous hands of these very rebels in a divine strategy planned from eternity past to rinse muddy sinners clean and hug them into his own heart despite their squirmy attempt to get free and scrub themselves clean on their own. Christ went down into death while we applauded. We couldn’t have cared less. We were weak. Sinners. Enemies.
It was only after the fact, only once the Holy Spirit came flooding into our hearts, that the realization swept over us: he walked through my death. And he didn’t simply die. He was condemned. He didn’t simply leave heaven for me; he endured hell for me. He, not deserving to be condemned, absorbed it in my place—I, who alone deserved it. THAT is his heart. And into our empty souls, like a glass of cold water to a thirsty mouth, God poured his Holy Spirit to internalize the actual experience of God’s love.
Dane Ortlund – ‘Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers‘
My prayer is that you will go to Jesus even now to find peace and rest. That God’s Holy Spirit will enable you to experience his deep and persistent love for you.
He sees you.
He loves you.
He is with you in the midst of what you’re going through.
He doesn’t consider your problems as mere trifles that clog up his time.
He can give you help in your time of need.
He really can, and he really is willing.
His life, death and resurrection prove it decisively. Why die for you, if he would abandon you now?
He is kind and tender hearted towards you. That is who he is.
So go to him once again, or go to him for the first time, and find rest for your soul.
N.B. Some of you who read this may not consider yourself a Christian. If you’d like to find out more about what Christians believe and how it can make a difference to your life, then you can read a description of it here. If you have any further questions then I’d love to chat to you about it. You can contact me through the “contact us” link on our website.