I had a situation occur tonight that was not new to me. As a matter of fact it has happened more frequently than I would like to admit over the past 5 years.
It was late and I figured I would be off to bed in a timely fashion, without mishap, but I was wrong. Instead a found myself cleaning up after an accident and thinking to myself, “How inconvenient”. I stopped there. Did I really just indicate that parenting was inconvenient?
How many of you have thought that? You had your plans, you had ideas of how things were going to work out and then “BAM”, inconvenience strikes. Is life ever so easy as to have no obstacles or hurdles? Well, I guess tonight, I thought so. If parenting is anything it’s inconvenient, it’s difficult, it’s unpredictable, it’s unrewarding, it is such a tough job. Why do you think God wanted to start over so many times, His children drove him to annihilation. Thank you Jesus for Grace and Mercy.
Where is my grace and mercy on nights like tonight. Nights when I was so tired and had to deal with unpleasantness to the degree that it has kept me up even longer to write about it. How can I extend my arms of grace to my child when they have done something to disturb my schedule, my plans? I must look to the loving Father who used sacrificial love to extend His grace to me. My love must be sacrificial, I must crucify my inconvenience on the cross of mercy and let it flow through everything that I do. So what if I go to bed 45 minutes later than planned if I can lovingly tuck my child in bed after a most unpleasant episode and wrap my arms around his little body and tell him I love him even in the midst of my frustration. Isn’t that what the Father did for us?
God sent His son in the midst of our sin and He required a sacrifice to save us. It wasn’t the original plan and I would say it was most inconvenient for Jesus to leave heaven, become a man, live among us, be betrayed, beaten and hung to die. But He did it, because He loves us. What is our inconvenience compared to His?
Good things to think about.
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