Is there something you're supposed to be doing? I'm not talking about, maybe, you're supposed to be mowing the lawn or you're supposed to be preparing for Sunday's sermon, but you are instead scrolling social media or taking a nap. I mean, you are supposed to have had three children by now, or you are supposed to be a musical phenom by now. I mean, God finally gave you that perfect husband who, like you, loves children and wants a home full of dents and dings and childish laughter, but despite the doctors telling you everything is fine, you haven't one single son or daughter. I mean, God gave you this perfect pitch and the ability to simply pick up an instrument and play, this remarkable rhythm and notes that flow through your soul moment by moment, but despite your sacrifice, despite your toil, you can't even feed yourself on what you earn playing music. You know that you know that you know you are to be a mother. You know that you know that you know you are to be a musician. So, where is your success?
From the time I was a young girl, I loved reading and writing; I loved learning and teaching. But there was nothing I ever wanted more than to be a mother. (In fact, in my foolishness, I saw being a wife as a means to end, the way I could be a mother, but not on my list of aspirations.) A neighbor told my mother repeatedly, "She's going to be a missionary." A teacher allowed me to teach the Spelling lesson from time to time. During summer break, a friend and I published a neighborhood newspaper. My mother carried in her purse a list of all the Nancy Drew books I owned so she never inadvertently bought duplicates for my birthday, Christmas, whatever occasion, such was my love of reading. As a teen, I was always asked to babysit or help out with Vacation Bible School or teach younger children. Every indication, every avenue, every community in which I existed reaffirmed what I was supposed to do. I had the gifts, I had the passion, and they were clearly recognizable. So, where is my success? Why am I not teaching hundreds from a dais? Where is my best seller? And why, as a parent, am I plagued more often by thoughts of what I should have done rather than basking in the perpetual adulation and celebration of our children for the felicity of having me as their mother? Why am I so unremarkable, so ineffectual, so ordinary?
When Jesus sat down and spoke what we call The Beatitudes to the people gathered on a mountainside, it was in response to the commission His Father had given Him. He wasn't looking to be made king of Judea; He was bringing glory to His Father. It wasn't for fame or popularity --if it had been, surely, He would not have started out by telling His listeners that to be truly blessed, one must be meek, one must grieve; it was to bring glory to His Father.
And what of The Beatitudes themselves, Jesus' very words? Not a one declares, "Blessed, highly favored, abundant in fruitfulness is the world-famous athlete," or "Blessed, highly favored, abundant in fruitfulness is the Oscar-winning actress." Likewise, nowhere in Scripture does it caution, "Poor and despised is the barren woman whose love for children drives her to care for and pray for others' children alone," or " Poor and despised is the talented but obscure musician who can only share his gifts with the church every Sunday." Scripture does, however, tells us, Whatever you do, do it heartily as unto the Lord (Col. 3:23). Success is measured by our attitude, not our audience. Obedience and the desire to please God. Using all we are given to the glory of God. Submission to His plan and His authority. Not seeking after the rewards and approval of this world. And if our ministry never serves more than a few, if our talents are shared only with those in our community, if our love is never given to children we can call our own, if our name is never on the lips of millions but is written in the Lamb's Book of Life, we are more than blessed. Let us humbly serve our King in whatever we are supposed to be doing and trust Him with the success of that obedience.
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