Readiness

The two minutes are up.  Nap time is imminent.  I say, "it's time, Bubba!"  Suddenly all the eagerness my son embodies ebbs away, and he scrambles to retreat, saying, "no, I not ready!  Two minutes!"  I can see the signs: sleepy eyes, an attitude shift from cheerful to irritable, and a dissatisfaction with all his good toys and books.  He is ready.  It's time for him to sleep, but he can't see it (or won't see it) my way.  His unyielding comportment lasts until we are by his bed singing songs to Jesus.  He finally surrenders and nearly gladly accepts that nap time is good.  I am no longer the villain leading him to imprisonment; I am his mother who loves him.  He says sweetly to me, "Je t'aime maman.  Au revoir!"

These daily episodes drain me.  I started praying and asking God why it had to be like this every time.  Can't my boy remember from one day to the next that all turned out well?  God was gracious and quick to remind me that this is the dynamic of my relationship with Him.  Too often when God calls me to something, my knee-jerk reaction is to say, "I'm not ready, Lord!"  God was leading Kyle and me to have another baby last year-- I'm not ready.  We moved into a home that wasn't unpacked or fully furnished for months, but God said to invite folks over-- I'm not ready.  My boy spiked a fever of 103.9, and I had to stay home with his baby sister while Kyle took him to the emergency room-- Lord, I am not ready for this.  Most convicting of all, opportunities arise to tell my friends about Jesus or openly give God the glory for the good things in my life and I say I'm not ready.

Matthew 19:16-22 reads:
Just then a man came up to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?”
“Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.”
“Which ones?” he inquired.
Jesus replied, “‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, honor your father and mother,’ and ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’”
“All these I have kept,” the young man said. “What do I still lack?”
Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth.

When I tell the Lord I am not ready, it's no different than saying no.  It's no different than this rich young man who receives an invitation from Jesus to follow him and chooses to walk away.  Because like the rich young man or my son at nap time, I can't envision following and trusting God through life's challenges not costing me a lot.  What if I were a better mom with only one child?  What if our friends think our house is abysmal?  What if Bubba's fever is a sign of devastating illness?  What if I lose a friend because my love for Jesus weirds them out?

But Jesus never said that following him wouldn't come at a cost.  In fact he says the opposite; it come at great cost.  The rich young man was asked to give up his wealth.  Bubba surrenders his partial-autonomy and toys at nap time.  But what Bubba receives that the rich young man missed (and too often I miss) is the loving embrace of a parent and rest.  I could trade my own free will with all its worry and anxiety and missed opportunity with closeness to my Father in heaven and peace within.  All my "what ifs" could come true, which I dread admitting.  I simply desire that God would transform my reluctance into readiness, my free will into willingness to follow Him.  Please make it so, Lord.