“Mom, you know what sin is, so don’t do it.” She says this to me after I’ve lost my temper. Failure, again. When I apologize, I can’t help the tears. The kids have hardly ever seen me cry. I’m not a public crier. “Mom, you teasing?” asks my three-year-old. No. Mommy’s sin struggles are no joke. Making good choices is hard, I tell them.
And this is discipleship: the working out of our salvation that happens within the community of a family. It’s like lifting a stick that’s three times your body length. It’s heavy. Your hands are pierced with splinters. You’re thrown off-balance by the weight of it.
. . . sometimes you just fall off. But you climb back up, because the narrow way is the right way. The way of eternal reward. The way of joy.
The way of freedom. Boulders are thrown aside. Weights are lifted. You run without growing weary. You walk without growing faint. Your feet are like those of a deer on the heights. The sun does not harm you by day nor the moon by night. Ten thousand may fall, but “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him.”
May you know his rescuing power today and always.