From Celebrated Deliverer to Hated Criminal: Jesus Knew What It Was Like to Be a Mom

I realize that Jesus was God and that technically means that he knew everything. But as a woman and a mother, there are times when his experience on earth doesn’t seem much like mine. He was raised in a paternalistic culture where women weren’t necessarily valued. He didn’t raise children and wasn’t responsible for cooking meals or caring for a household.

But I recently heard someone talk about the path from Palm Sunday to Easter. Suddenly I realized that motherhood can be a lot like this. One day we make cookies, take the kids to the aquarium and read extra long bedtime stories, and we are the hero. But a week later when the homework must be done, the rooms cleaned and broccoli eaten, they wish us dead. (At least mine do.)

I in no way to minimize the sufferings of Christ or to imply that it is equivalent to being forced to read Brown Bear Brown Bear for the 12 thousandth time or eating your child’s cold leftover mac & cheese. But rather I feel encouraged that we really do have a high priest who can sympathize with us all in ways. Jesus didn’t forget his mission. He didn’t allow his popularity (or lack there of) affect how he moved forward with what he was called to do.

I often find myself distracted these days. I question my mission and my calling. I wonder if I’m really cut out for this motherhood thing.

It’s hard to be a parent of kids with allergies, who are not neurotypical and now one with an autoimmune disease. Sometimes I just want them to like me. I want the palms and the accolades. (Ok, not the actual worship, but I wouldn’t mind being the celebrated hero on occasion). I don’t want to have to be the bad guy in their eyes.

The one who sometimes has to prioritize laundry over reading a 13th story or mopping the floor over the fun and messy craft. I’m fully convinced that my children believe that all I care about is a clean house. (My mother is laughing about this. She thinks I live in one step above squalor).

This is where I have to seek constant discernment about my choices and do my best to reassure myself that God will some how fill in the gaps. I know Jesus probably never told the disciples to shut up and get out of his face, so I know I definitely need some improvement in that area.

But I also know when he was tired, he slept and when he and the disciples were overworked, he took them away to a quiet place to rest. I can learn from his example that caring for myself is not selfish or a luxury, but neither is it an entitlement.

When the bitter words of one of my children wound my soul, I can cling to the cross knowing that Jesus can relate. When the weight of their needs and requirements, both genuine and selfishly demanded, feel too heavy I can drop to my knees and pray for strength.  When my anger threatens to turn to bitterness, there is grace for me that I may learn a better way.