Marissa Henley

Encouraging weary women to hope in Christ alone

A brief note about marriage

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I was listening to a R.C. Sproul series on marriage today, and I was reminded of a lesson that apparently I’m going to have to learn and re-learn a thousand times. He was talking about the marriage relationship and how the two become one flesh. He said that marriage is to be a duality, not a dualism. A dualism is two things that are in inherent, relentless conflict with each other–good and evil, light and darkness, etc. The word duality, however, comes from the words dual (two) and unity. So a duality is a plurality becoming a unity. It struck me that I feel like a dualism with Noel much more than I feel like a duality. So often, I think it is me vs. his work, my interests vs. his interests, my free time vs. his free time. I’m constantly battling him, trying to extract from him the kind of love I think he should be giving me to meet all of my needs. What if God could transform my thinking so that I put my interests aside and joined Noel as a teammate, not striving for my own comfort and happiness, but working together with Noel for the glory of God and the good of our family??

So how do the two become one? R.C. went on to talk about the end of the story of the creation of Adam and Eve. Genesis 2:24-25: “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh. And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed. ” Now don’t be nervous, I’m not going to get into physical nakedness here. That’s what the verse is referring to, but I think the application goes beyond that. What if I were to be completely “naked” with Noel in the sense that I let him into every back corner, every bit of ugliness, every aspect of my emotional life, spiritual life, pain, guilt, and fear? As R.C. said, this kind of vulnerability is only possible when we stand before God clothed only in the righteousness of Christ. And that truth of who I am in Christ allows me to let Noel in, knowing that he’s promised not to leave no matter how ugly it gets. This is definitely an area for improvement in my life, even after almost 9 years of marriage. (9 years?!? Have I even been an adult that long? How bizarre.)

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Failure

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(A side note–these first few entries might seem like nice, neat little packages of ideas more than real struggles–that’s because there are a few issues I’ve been grappling with for about 6 months that I want to write about. After I’m done with those, I have no idea what will come to mind, so there might be some more unanswered questions.)

I’ll never forget a conversation I had with a dear friend one day. She’ll remain nameless unless she’d like to comment and admit speaking this awesome truth to me. (If she even remembers!) I was telling her how every time Christopher throws a tantrum, it makes me so upset, because I feel like a failure as a mom. Honestly, I was expecting some reassuring words. Instead, she said that I am a failure as a mom. Ouch. (I promise she’s a lot nicer than she sounds at the moment.)

She went on to remind me of the truth of the Gospel, and what I took from the conversation is this: I am a failure as a mom, because I am a sinner. I fail my kids and my husband every day. But Christ lived the life that I couldn’t live, and because His perfect record has been given to me, I don’t have to run from the fact that I am a failure, try to cover it up, ignore it, etc. This may sound strange, but it was such a freeing conversation for me. Because for most of my life, I have been going to great lengths to avoid being a failure, and even greater lengths to keep anyone else from seeing any failures that may occur. Instead, I should be admitting my failures to myself and others, letting those failures point to my need for Christ and increase my reliance upon His grace.

How does this play out in my every day life? Well, most of the time, it doesn’t. I still have the natural tendency to shy away from failure whenever possible. There are rare occasions, which I wish were more frequent, when I can use my failures to point myself and my sons to my need for Christ. For example, one day Christopher was losing it for absolutely no reason, and it really set me off. I yelled at him to go to his room, so both of us could calm down. A few minutes later, I went up to talk to him and found him sitting in his room, crying. When I opened the door, he looked up and said, “Mommy, do you forgive me?” I tell you, I felt like the most worthless piece-of-crap mom in the world. I held Christopher in my lap and repeated the words I have told him several times already: “Christopher, I forgive you, and I need you to forgive me. I was wrong to yell at you, and I’m sorry. I can’t be a good Mommy to you all by myself. I need Jesus to help me be a good Mommy. I wasn’t letting Jesus help me just now, and I’m sorry.” I can only pray that God will use my failures for the good of my kids, to point them to their own need for Christ for their salvation and their growing in Christ-likeness.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10: But he [the Lord] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

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Supermoms

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Here’s the problem: I want to be a Supermom. And if I can’t be a Supermom, I at least want to be perceived as a Supermom. We probably all have our own ideals of that a Supermom would be, and here’s mine: Supermoms always love being a mom. Their kids reach all the developmental milestones at least a month early, due to their Supermom’s diligence. Their kids are well-behaved, polite, and carry on intelligent conversation with adults in public. If a child does throw a tantrum or act up (hey, she might be a Supermom, but no one is perfect!), the Supermom calmly and quickly diffuses the tantrum without giving into the child. The Supermom never loses her cool and would never yell at her child. Supermoms are dressed well, complete with a shower (that same day), make-up, lip gloss, and earrings. Their kids look adorable and never have dried, crusty food on their faces or boogers hanging out of their nose. (My friends are laughing right now, because they’ve been waiting for me to mention the boogers.) Supermoms arrive on time with Purell, snacks, and interesting toys ready at all times, and they never run out of baby wipes.

Am I a Supermom? Heck, no. But every ounce of my flesh (that is, my sinful nature) wants to at least have everyone think that I am. We see other women who look like Supermoms, so we try to keep up, being careful to only let others in far enough that they never see us lose our cool or see our kids with boogers coming out of their nose (or worse, throw a huge tantrum with boogers all over their face!). And then the Supermom myth is perpetuated as long as we can keep up the facade at least most of the time.

It is refreshing to me to see women in my church family who are willing to be seen for what we all really are: messed-up, sinful, struggling moms who don’t always know what we should do for our kids and often do all the wrong things. And I’m learning that the key to this kind of genuineness is the Gospel: that I am a sinner, separated from God by my sin and unable to anything to save myself or earn my favor, but that God, in His mercy and grace, sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross for that sin, reconciling me to God, making me righteous in God’s sight, and adopting me as a daughter of God. God takes Jesus’ perfect record and gives it to me, and therefore, I receive God’s grace–His unmerited favor–not because of anything I do, but solely because of what Christ has done.

So the truth is, I stink at being a mom. I mess up every day, I yell at my kids, I run out of wipes, and I feel so incompetent and know that if they actually gave all moms a test before letting them take their baby home from the hospital, I would have failed miserably. But if I let other people in, let them really see the mess that is there, it will point me (and hopefully others) to my need for Christ. If I could live a perfect life, I wouldn’t need a Savior. If I could handle my life on my own strength, I wouldn’t need to be sustained by the Holy Spirit, the promises of God’s Word, and fellowship with other Christians. So this is my confession: I am not a Supermom. I can’t achieve salvation on my own, I can’t parent my kids on my own, and I definitely can’t love my husband on my own (but that’s a story for another blog). I need Jesus.

Ephesians 2:8-9: For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

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