When you are upset because you can’t do something you’ve wanted to do, it might be because that thing has become an idol in your heart.

I said these words one afternoon in response to one of my kids who was frustrated because I had taken away his highly valued time on the computer. We then talked about how idols are not always easy to recognize and that our emotional responses can sometimes be an indicator of what’s going on in our heart.

Idols Specific to Motherhood

John Piper says that “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” We were made to love and worship God. When he isn’t the longing of our heart and the source of our satisfaction, we seek to fill our bellies somewhere else. Instead of filling the God-shaped hole in our heart with enjoyment of him, we fill it with love for things, experiences, desires, and responses from others.

We often think of an idol as a manmade object that a person bows down and worships. An idol is really anything that we love more than God. It consumes our thinking and energies. It’s something that is so central to our life that if we didn’t have it, we would be devastated.

There are unique idols to motherhood. If you are a mother, you may recognize many or all of these:

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“I tried Mommy, but I just can’t do it!” moaned my son. He curled up on the couch and cried. Sitting down beside him, I said “You’re right. You can’t. But God can. Let’s pray about it together”

I often look at my son and see my own heart and my own struggles. Sometimes I look at the road ahead, see an obstacle and think, “There’s no way around it. It’s impossible.” When I consider my life circumstances and the trials seem insurmountable, I throw up my hands and think, “I’m stuck. I’ll never get out of this mess.” Feeling overwhelmed and in despair, I simply give up. Like my son, I want to curl up and cry.

The truth is, my faith is quite small. Imperfect. Weak.

During homeschool with my boys, we recently read through Genesis. As I read the account of Moses and the Israelites in Egypt, I thought, “That’s me! I am just like the Israelites.”

In Exodus chapter 4, Moses and Aaron told the Israelites that God would deliver them from Pharaoh. They showed them signs and wonders. They believed that God sent Moses to deliver them and they worshiped God. Then in chapter 5, Moses went before Pharaoh for the first time and told him to let the Israelites go. He responded in anger and made the work load harder for the people. They were punished and beaten. The Israelites went to Moses and Aaron and said, “May the Lord look on you and judge you! You have made us obnoxious to Pharaoh and his officials and have put a sword in their hand to kill us.” (v.21).

I do the same thing. I say I believe God can do anything and then when he does it differently than I expect, I stomp my feet and say he did it wrong. I follow him when he gives me what I want but as soon as scarcity arrives, I complain and say “This is not how I’m supposed to be treated!” I grumble about the provisions I’m given and returning to slavery begins to look appealing. When the future seems filled with giants, I’m like the returning spies who want to give it all up and return to the desert rather than believe the promised land is worth the effort to stay and fight.

In my ladies bible study, we’ve been talking a lot about faith as we work our way through the book of Hebrews. This past week, as we read through the list of faithful believers in chapter 11, I wondered if I would ever have such deep faith. Because the mountains I’ve faced lately seem too high. I just don’t have the strength to climb them. And the challenges in my life are nothing compared to those listed in the faith fall of fame.

I know I’m not alone in this. I receive emails all the time from people struggling with doubts and feelings of insufficiency. Even in Scripture I see that I’m not alone in my weak faith. In fact, over and over in Scripture, I see Jesus extending grace and accepting the imperfect faith of those he called. Take the disciples who Jesus often admonished with, “O you of little faith!” They constantly questioned him and doubted what he could do. Even after witnessing Jesus feeding the five thousand, they were concerned when they didn’t have anything to eat. Jesus said, “O you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet perceive? Do you not remember the five loaves for the five thousand, and how many baskets you gathered? (Matthew 16:8-9). Yet these were the very men whom Jesus entrusted with starting the church.

Those who came to him for healing didn’t have complete faith either. The woman who had bled for twelve years came to him with a combination of superstition, doubt, and faith and touched the edge of his cloak. Yet he accepted her efforts and healed her. A man asked Jesus to heal his demon possessed son saying, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” (Mark 9:22) Jesus responded, “‘If you can?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.” Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (vs. 23-24).

In Calvin’s commentary on the book of Mark he commented on how God responds to our weak faith: “This agrees with what I have lately noticed, that God deals kindly and gently with his people, -accepts their faith, though imperfect and weak,-and does not lay to their charge the faults and imperfections with which it is connected…Though we have not such abundance of faith as might be desired, there is no reason why our weakness should drive away or discourage us from prayer.”

This is what I want my children to understand and what I want my own heart to grasp: It’s not about what I can do but about what God has already done through Jesus on my behalf. It’s not the strength of my faith which saves me but the object of my faith. It’s who my faith is in and not how strong it is that matters. Though my faith is weak and imperfect, I need to come to God in prayer saying, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

I recently read a letter written by Francis Schaeffer to a man who struggled with doubts. He wrote “You may go through a period of darkness, but once we have accepted Christ as our Savior he has promised to hold us fast forever. Our salvation does not rest upon our holding on to Christ, but upon his work as He died upon the cross. Because He is God, His death has infinite value and can cover every spot. Thus when He promises to hold us fast and to never let us go, He is doing so upon the basis of the infinite value of His shed blood as He died for us….You have been in a relationship to this personal God-in the way God Himself has provided through the work of Christ-and as such you can look to Him to help you through the darkness.” (in Letters to Francis Schaeffer, p.142).

Here’s what I know to be true, in this life I will face trials, circumstances, and mountains that are too high for me to climb. I will have fears, doubts, and worries. I will feel weak in faith. LIke the Israelites, I may see God’s wonders in my life one day but the very next day doubt he can provide my daily bread. But I must keep my eyes focused not on my circumstances or on how strong I feel but on the object of my faith, Jesus Christ. His blood is sufficient; his grace is more than abundant to cover my weakness. I must come to him, no matter how weak my faith and ask him to help me in my unbelief. And though there may be times when my grip loosens and I just can’t hold on, I have to remember that Jesus never loses his grip on me.

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

(from our tour of Normandy a couple of years ago)

I have been at my church for almost sixteen years now. Over those years, I have seen many changes, both in staff and membership. I’ve been caught in the middle of divisions, anger, and bitterness. Many people have come and gone. Couples who mentored us in our early marriage are long gone. Those we enjoyed sweet fellowship with have moved on to bigger and better things. Sometimes we lost friends because they had to move away. Other times it was so they could attend another church across town. Or they stopped attending church all together. These losses left deep wounds, not only in my own heart, but also in the Body.

Being a part of a community of believers is hard. Not only because people leave, but also because of how we treat each other when we’re together. We disagree, put each other down, and let each other down. There’s gossip and taking sides. Then there’s that small group of people who do the work for the entire Body, leaving them burned out and overburdened. There are also those who are overlooked and forgotten. Their hurts are unseen. They long for hope and encouragement but no one asks and no one notices.

I wonder-is it worth it? Is real community with other believers in the Body of Christ worth the effort? The time and energy we put into getting to know others, the peeling back of our masks to reveal who we really are-is it worth it? What about when others in the Body let us down or when people we love leave the fellowship?

For centuries, and in some places in the world even now, it was a deadly act to attend church. In our culture, we take it for granted. Yet for the early church, the Body of Christ was a literal lifeline. These were the people whom you trusted most. They fed you when you had nothing. They gave you shelter when you were kicked out of your home for believing in Christ. They encouraged you when you felt like giving up. And they walked into the arena with you, dying alongside you for the sake of Christ.

We are part of this same Church, the same Body as those early believers. And it is this Church for whom Christ bled and died. Though we are fickle, he is always certain of his love for us. Though we sell ourselves, prostituting our hearts for other lovers, he is steadfast and faithful. Though we run from him, doubt him, or think we are unworthy of him, he always pursues and always finds us.

(from our tour of Paris a couple of years ago)

The truth is, we are a broken Bride. We come to this marriage soiled, stained, and ashamed. Without Christ’s white robes of righteousness, we’d be dressed in torn and tattered rags. Together as a Church, we are a group of ragamuffins. It’s no wonder that life in community is hard. We are each sinful and desire our own good. Every part of the Body is tugging and pulling at the rest in order to go its own way. Without Christ as our Head, we’d be a tangled, mangled mess, immobile and useless.

Yes, community in the Body is hard. It’s broken. People divorce themselves from the Body. We are let down, hurt, and ignored. We go to battle against one another, forgetting who the real enemy is. But when we love each other in spite of how hard it is, it shows the world the grace of Christ. When the Church fights hard to stay united, to follow its Head and to submit to the will of Christ, the world sees redemption and beauty rise up from the ash heap. It sees a nomadic group of worn travelers brought together by the cleansing blood of Christ, washed and made new, united by the gospel, and focused together on spreading the Kingdom of grace.

Though my heart has broken many times over the years, I still believe in the Church. I believe in the work Christ has done to redeem his Bride. I believe the Body is worth it. Because though it hurts to give and share of myself only to be rejected or ignored, or to see people leave and go their own way, or to see those I love bicker and complain, it doesn’t cripple me. I can be a part of the community, not because it meets my needs or serves me in some way, but because by doing my part, I am serving Christ. And though many other parts of the Body leave or severe themselves, Christ my Head will never leave or forsake me. I live and participate in community for the sake of Christ and the Kingdom and leave the rest to him, for the Church is ultimately his body and not mine. He died for the Bride and he will ensure that she endures and is ready for the Wedding Feast to come.

Has community been hard for you? Have you been the one wounded or the one who has done the wounding? Either way, Christ came to redeem and restore you. He died to make you his own. Look to your Head; be united with him. See the other worn travelers of the Body through the lens of grace, for they too have been bought and redeemed. We can’t do this life alone; we have to stay united by the Blood which bought us. We are the Body and Bride of Christ for all eternity. Let’s live like it.

Sometimes, it’s the littlest things that wield the most power in our lives.

A couple of weeks ago, my hosting company shut down my blog because it was pulling too much from their servers. I was powerless to do anything about it. Nor did I know how to fix it. But a friend investigated and found that a little plug-in I didn’t even remember having was the source of all the trouble.

Often it is the little things in our lives, the things we don’t pay attention to and the things that seem insignificant which are in fact quite powerful. Sometimes it’s little sins, like gossip, worry, or complaining, that over time dig deep roots in our heart. They spread and grow into bitterness, self-righteousness, despair, and anger. Little distractions that we consider to have no impact on our life, slowly draws us into sin, damages our relationships, and inhibits our growth in faith. Those little temptations that we give into, like spending just a few more minutes pinning the things our heart desires or shopping when we know we don’t have any money or comparing what we have to someone else, can take us down a destructive road.

In my own life, I’ve seen the power of little things affect my relationships, my faith, and my emotions. When I give in to irritability and let it shower on those around me, it pierces and hurts those I love. When I harbor anger and bitterness over my husband’s constant pile of clothes left on the floor, it can create a deep wedge and break fellowship in my marriage. When I choose to immerse myself behind a screen rather than pour into the lives of people IRL (in real life), I miss opportunities to bless others and glorify God. When I admire what my friend has and dwell on all that I don’t have, discontentment and ingratitude brews in my heart, distancing me from God.

For most of us, it’s not the big sins or temptations that pull us away from Christ. Rather, it’s all the little choices we make throughout our day. They slowly build up into towering giants of bad habits, sins, and idols. Like a wandering seed that finds itself in fertile soil, the little things in our life can grow and spread like a weed in our heart, wrapping itself ever tighter, choking out our joy.

James talks about the power of the tongue, as a small thing that can cause great trouble. “Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness” (3:4-6). ” The Apostle Paul referenced the power of one person’s sin to affect the entire church, “Your boasting is not good. Don’t you know that a little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough?” (1 Corinthians 5:6) A little laziness can go a long way as well, “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man” (Proverbs 6:10-11).

My friend who came to my blog’s rescue had to delete the plug-in that caused the entire problem. Song of Solomon says, “Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom” (2:15). The couple knew how little things could bring ruin to their love, like foxes running wild in a garden. We too have to catch the little foxes in our hearts, foxes like careless words, wandering thoughts, time wasters, and all the little distractions of our hearts.

Yet, while little things are powerful, Jesus’ grace is even stronger. He came to die for all our sins, both big and little. We can trust him to save us for eternity and to save us from the power of all the little things in our lives. In John 15, he said “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (v.5). It is by abiding in him and trusting his finished work on the cross for our sins that we can resist the power of the little things that distract and pull us from living for him.

As we abide in him, we are empowered to take steps forward in faithfulness. And though those little sins and temptations are strong, our little steps of faith are strong as well. When we seek to glorify God in all our mundane and daily responsibilities, in all our small decisions, responses, and actions, those little steps add up to big changes in our lives. When we face each and every little mess, temptation, and distraction through the power of the gospel and rest in the strength of Christ, the pull of those things lessens.

Are there little things in your life that are causing you to stumble? Seek Christ in prayer. Ask him to help you recognize and identify them in your life. Ask him for strength to help you resist and turn from them. Abide in him and trust in his faithfulness as you seek out and catch all those little things. And as you remain connected to the vine, you will grow fruit, taking little steps of faith that build up to an amazing transformation in your heart.

One Sunday my pastor began a sermon by asking, “How much of Jesus do you want?” My heart immediately responded, “All, I want all-of course!”

But the more I think about it, the more I realize, I live as though I only want a little of Jesus. In fact, Christ is usually relegated to my eternal salvation and the rest of my daily life is left up to me. I’d never say that and rarely would think it, but it’s how I live. When my life is going smoothly, I take the credit. When life gets challenging, I often try to figure it out on my own. It’s only when I’m at the bottom of a deep pit that I cry out for his help.

Not only that, but my heart is often discontented. I wander restless through my desert life and though I’m richly blessed, I complain and grumble for more. Rather than trust in the God who delivered me through my own exodus from death to life, I worry that I won’t have all I need for tomorrow. I fear the giants in the land rather than believing Christ will be my fortress and deliverer. I don’t believe that he will fill all my longings so I set up my own golden calf, seeking false substitutes to meet my needs.

The truth is, I so often seek what I need outside of Christ. When I am tired and overwhelmed, I think the solution is more rest and time to myself. When people let me down or hurt me, I think that everything would be better if they changed or I stayed away from them. When the kids don’t do what I tell them to do, I think a new parenting strategy will make everything better. All throughout my day, I find myself seeking solutions to my daily problems and needs outside of Christ.

But Scripture tells me that Christ is sufficient for everything. He is more than enough to meet my every need, both now and in the future. His love is greater than any affection I could find elsewhere. He fulfills my deepest longings, not with things, experiences, or temporary satisfactions but with his very self. And the wonder of it is, I’ve barely skimmed the surface of all that I have in, through, and because of Christ. I’ll never exhaust his riches and will spend an eternity discovering and learning more of him.

But I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize I barely touched the surface of all I could have in him. I don’t want to spend this short time here living like a pauper when I’m actually the child of royalty. And I don’t want to live as though this costly inheritance I’ve been given is less than desirous.

Paul prayed for the Ephesians that “the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe” (Ephesians 1:17-19)…”I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:16-19).

I want to know more of Christ. I want to know even more of the hope to which he’s called me. I want to know more and more of those riches that Paul described. I want this fickle heart to turn from all that distracts me and focus on him alone. I want to experience and grasp the depths of his love. I want to say with all that I am what Paul wrote in Philippians 3, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ” (v.8).

Yes, I want more of Christ!

So I am praying Paul’s prayer and asking the Spirit to peel back the layers of my hard heart that keep me from him. I’m praying that he would fill my vision so much that I can’t see anything else. When the details of life threaten to pull me away, I’m praying that I would seek Jesus instead of temporary solutions and counterfeit sources of rest and peace.

Because plumbing the depths of what I have in Christ is where I will find all that I long for. Having more of Christ and less of me is where real joy lies. To know him and be known by him is what I was created for-why would I waste my time on anything else? And while all around me breaks, lets me down, hurts and fails me, with Christ, the more I have of him, so much more then becomes available.

Christ is the source of living water, a spring that never runs dry. He is my manna, the Bread of Life. My heart is tired of tasteless fast food, the world’s unfulfilled promises, and always seeking what is new and better. I want true refreshment and lasting peace. I want not just more of Christ in my life, I want all of Christ.

How about you? How much of Jesus do you want?

Someone asked me recently, “If you could say one thing to women, what would it be?” My response was, “You need the gospel more than you think you do.” This sounds rather trite, like something we’ve heard over and over before. But it’s the truth.

It took motherhood for me to realize just how much I need the gospel. Before I had children, the gospel was like viewing a tower in the fog. I knew the gospel, understood its importance, but I didn’t see the impact in all its fullness. The details were hazy and its beauty shadowed. But after becoming a mom and taking on its package of responsibilities and challenges, I have begun to see the gospel with more clarity. It has become for me the tower of refuge that it is….to read the rest of this post, visit Desiring God, my writing home today.