“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her. Luke 1:38 NIV
“No Greater Love” by Simon Dewey
I think of her every year on Christmas and Easter; sometimes in between. I imagine Mary’s life as seen through her eyes. A young woman, chosen by God to birth and mother the Savior (see Luke 1:35). A mother who watched her grown up son abused, beaten, and hung on a cross as a criminal.
There are many aspects to her story. We can delve into Mary as a mother, a wife, a disciple of Jesus and more. But what strikes me most this Easter season is Mary’s trust in God. When the angel visited this teenage virgin, Mary could have chosen to resist the will of God, instead, she chose to trust. She walked each day with eyes of trust- even as she followed her son on His walk to the Cross (see John 19:25).
TRUST:
1a: assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something
b: one in which confidence is placed
2a: dependence on something future or contingent: hope
MerriamWebster.com
Mary’s trust in God resonates deeply with me these days. Not because I trust as she did, but because I don’t. Oftentimes, I do not view my life through trust-filled eyes. I ruminate on the untrustworthiness of those I’ve loved. I worry about the future. I take things into my own hands before seeking the Lord. It has been especially challenging these weeks of Lent because I suspect God is leading me to a deeper place of dependence. He continues to knock down my trust-borders. I DO NOT LIKE IT.Continue Reading
Tramping at dusk through a field of weeds with my 12-year-old, Micah, my eye was on the prize: a porta potty. As we got closer, I saw the door bolted shut. Nooooooo! My bladder was ready to explode. About to utter my feelings on the situation, I heard Micah call through the weeds, “Remember, you said you aren’t going to complain for 40 days and you asked us to hold you accountable.”
Oh. Ya.
You see, a few days before, I had proclaimed to my family that I was giving up complaining in the 40-days leading up to Easter. I asked them to call me out when they hear me (or, in Micah’s case, before they hear me). In my practice of gratitude, I’ve noticed that complaining and thankfulness don’t get along well. Therefore, I chose the Lenten season to take it to the next level by banishing the whiner in me.
And it is HARD (oops, I just complained).
As I grow in my practice of gratitude, my complaining needs to decrease. I want to trade grumbling for gratitude.
This 40-day fast has been eye-opening. I’ve discovered I tend to grumble when I’m tired, hot, my computer acts up, I don’t get my way, or have a full bladder while walking through weeds. I’ve learned that I whine more than I thought I did. When beginning this exercise, I did not think it would be as challenging as it has been. Nor did I realize how irritated I would become when “caught” by family members.
In Philippians 2:14, the Bible is clear on the subject: Do everything without complaining. Just typing that sentence makes me want to complain. Yet I have committed to grow in gratitude, so I embrace these 40-days of deliberate non-grumbling. As I feel a grievance coming on, I try to flip it and find something I can be grateful for instead. I am learning to reframe my view in any given situation. I fear this will be a lifelong process.
So, how about you? How are you doing in the Complaint Department? Would you like to join me in examining your outlook? Your complain-o-meter? Your inner whiner? Your outer grumbler? Let’s look for treasure in the weeds and note how our attitude and mental health changes along the way. Not to mention, how pleasant we’ll be to hang out with.
Ponder:
~What triggers lead you to complain?
~How do you and how will you exchange grumbling for gratitude?
Action:
~Pick a verse to memorize (such as Philippians 2:14) as a reminder of God’s heart on the matter of complaining.
~Set your phone to remind you over the course of the day to stop complaining.
~Evaluate yourself at the end of each day.
~Ask loved ones to call you out (you’ve been warned!).
