Sunday, April 5, 2015

If Jesus was my son, we'd be in trouble...

Tomorrow will be my first Easter as a mother. Oh yes, the little man's basket is ready; we've dyed and hunted the eggs; and you better believe his Easter outfit is ready to go (and color-coordinated with his mommy and daddy's outfits...naturally). I have always loved holidays - and they are all the more fun with Wells. I know he won't remember his first Christmas tree or having green pancakes on his first St. Patrick's Day...but I don't care one bit. It's fun for me, and I know he will appreciate all the festivity when he is older :)

But anyway, back to Easter. I was reflecting earlier while in the shower (let's be honest, as a mother that is one of the only times that you are alone to actually get any thinking done!) about tomorrow's holiday. Easter is a time of celebration most definitely. A time to reflect on the greatest victory in history. The Lord of the universe rose from the dead! The very truth that makes Christianity different than other religions - we serve a LIVING God. But in order for Jesus to rise from the dead, he had to be...well, dead. And it was that death that I was reflecting on earlier.

A gruesome, painful way to die, absolutely. But Jesus was willing to take it all for us. However, it wasn't really Jesus that I was thinking about it. It was his Father. The very One who sent his son to die. The very One who sent his son to die for us. And it was that thought that I couldn't quite wrap my mind around. Only a lunatic would do that.

Let me start off by saying this: in the last 9.5 months, I have become a new person. Having a baby changed my life more than I ever thought possible. It's one of those things that you cannot fully prepare for. The love that you are suddenly overwhelmed with is unreal. I can remember one evening when Wells was only a week or two old. I was home alone with him while Eric was on a short trip to the store. He was asleep in his swing, and I was sitting in front of him singing, "You are my Sunshine." On the surface, you might think that that is sweet and totally normal. Not so much, I couldn't even get through one verse due to the sobbing (my sobbing, not Wells'). I would try over and over to get through it but couldn't. It's laughable now, but I was a serious mess - filled with so much stinking love that I couldn't even sing a song with a hypothetical situation of someone taking my baby (my sunshine away). Y'all, it was not pretty. Sure, I could blame it on the hormones (because goodness gracious at the hormones that invade your body after birthing a little human!), but the truth is, I was in love in a way that I had never known. I had been given a precious gift - one that I could never imagine letting go.

The hormones have died down now (although my husband may beg to differ at times), but the underlying feeling is the same. I'll admit it, I put the "mother" in "smother." And yes, I know I will need to back off a little so that I don't raise a wimp, But I am straight-up obsessed with that little guy. And as a mother of an infant, I kind of think that is the way it is supposed to be. He relies on me (and Eric, of course) for everything. I am there for him always and will do anything to protect him...anything. I mean, I have to fight the urge to do physical harm to the nurse who gives Wells his shots. I have turned into quite the mama bear.

If you're still with me, the topic at hand really is Easter, I promise! I just had to give you some back story! Like I said, only a lunatic would send their son off to die. God not only endured watching Jesus go through the worst pain (physically, spiritually, emotionally) ever, but He orchestrated the whole thing. What?! How could a father do that to his own son? I would bet that this is something that a lot of nonbelievers can't get past - heck, I can hardly get past it. But the reason is: he really was a lunatic - truly crazy...but the thing is, He was crazy about us. He loved us so much that he allowed his beloved Son to do what no one else could - save us from a life without Him. When I think about the love I have for my son, my sweet Wells, it's hard to imagine a love much greater. But God's love for us is an infinite amount greater - it has to be when you think about the sacrifice he made. Yes, Jesus paid the price (his life) for us, but God, his Father, paid a price even higher (am I even allowed to say that?). This is something I never thought about before today. Something that hits so close to home now that I have my own son. But it is something I really needed to think about. As a new mom, I am busy, busy, busy. I am lucky if I get a few minutes of down time a day - and as I said earlier, that might only be a shower! I needed a reminder of the love God has for me. I needed a reminder that no matter how busy I am, I need to take time to reflect on Him, talk to Him, listen to His Word. It is the least I could do for someone who did the unthinkable for me.

There's no way I could have made the sacrifice that our God made, and I wouldn't want to. If Jesus were my son, we'd all be in a whole lot of trouble. There is no way in this world that I would send my son to pay a debt that wasn't his (let's be real,  I'd probably even put up a fight if he had to pay a debt that was his!). But thanks be to God for the unimaginable, immeasurable, unconditional love that he has for us, the very ones who were the reason his son had to die. doesn't get any stronger than that.

Happy Easter, everyone!

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