I have to say, when I started Ineffable Grace, it certainly wasn’t my intention to go whole months without posting.  Yet, at the moment, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s unlikely to change for at least a couple more months.

As most of you probably know, we’re praying to be welcoming a new little girl into the world just over a month from now.  I’ve been sick–hyperemesis gravidarum and, more recently, fairly severe anemia–but honestly, I think the biggest “problem” is that pregnancy seems to have done something to my brain!  My mind seems to be suddenly happier to dwell on concrete things and downright stubborn about dealing with abstracts.  In other words: for the first time in my life, housework is coming easier than thinking.  ;)  I suppose this is a good thing, maybe even a God-given instinct to help mothers prepare for children!  But it is wrecking my blogging abilities, and for that I apologize.

So it looks likely that I won’t be posting until whatever chemicals have gone berserk in my head go back to normal.  In the meantime, though, two very non-deep thoughts that have manged to run through my head between vacuuming and painting:

• As Seth and I work to “prepare a place” for our daughter, it’s made the concept of God preparing a place for us so much more real.  She and I have a sort of relationship; she’s heard my voice, slept to my heartbeat, and felt my hand pushing against her when she kicks particularly hard.  And I’ve felt her little movements, her little flutters, and even seen her little eyes and nose on an ultrasound screen.  But we don’t really know each other, and we won’t move beyond this very limited communication until she actually arrives.  And it makes me think of heaven, the Heavenly Father who’s building us our own equivalents of “nurseries,” and way that our knowledge of Him is so limited now in comparison to what it will be.  And the way I already love this little person who hasn’t even met me or understood the reality of my existence–and how much more my Father loves me despite all my baby-like ignorance.
• When people talk about babies being helpless and needing parents (and the spiritual parallels thereof), I didn’t realize exactly how helpless babies really are.  It’s not that they can’t feed themselves or walk or protect themselves; they come out not knowing how to smile, not being able to see farther than a few feet, and not even being able to grasp something in their little fingers.  It’s amazing, really.

Tags: children motherhood

Being that I am neither Presbyterian, believing that our child is automatically covenant and promised for salvation, nor Arminian, believing that our child will be saved if only we manage to be convincing enough–being neither of those things, I believe this little baby is in spiritual darkness.

I’ve been dwelling on this a great deal.  This little one that I’m so eager to meet, the tiny frame that’s being knit together inside of me, is a tangled mess of sin and rebellion.  Even as he or she is learning to think, to hear, to feel, his or her little thoughts are selfish and unredeemed.  That little mind holds no appreciation for its own insignificance, no desire to serve the One who is forming every bone and synapse.  Our child is fallen.

Parents don’t often seem to treat their children like lost people.  It’s frightening to think of; I can feel even now the peculiar blend of terror that comes from flinging all your love and devotion into a little being that may never grow to desire God, from building such an incredibly close relationship with a person who may one day break your heart with their waywardness, or whose funeral you might attend and know that they’ve gone into eternal torment instead of eternal joy.

I don’t think it’s idle worry to be so starkly dramatic.  We don’t know God’s plans, and how could we presume?  We hope and we plead on our knees, but if it brings God more glory that this little child should reject Him, then our hearts may break but still flow with praise.

I don’t want to lose sight of this.  I’m sure it will be easy to do: even as Seth and I plan and giggle about all the ways we’re going to love this child to death, it’s so easy to distance ourselves from the reality of his or her spiritual condition.  And we haven’t even met yet!  Once we’re captured by smiles and coos and all the miniature wonder of new life, I can’t imagine how much more difficult it will be.  But how vital it is that every action we take as parents, every decision, be underpinned by solemn determination to show this child the beauty of Jesus Christ and His Gospel!  We’re embarking on a tiny mission field, bringing it in through our front door.

It goes well beyond “scary.”  And yet it’s also amazing, because even we as saved parents can only throw ourselves on the mercy of God–and so throwing our child on His mercy is not very much different.  And it’s awesome, because how many things bring as much joy to believers as sharing the Gospel?  And here we will, Lord willing, have the opportunity to do exactly that, day in and day out.  So it’s exciting, too, because God is gracious in all things.

Tags: children sin nature