Impulsive master of misunderstanding
You comfort me with all your big mistakes
— from St Peter by Malcolm Guite
It seems like I’ve heard a lot in the last few years about the value and importance of women in the church— the ways God uses women, the glory and high status they are given in the Scriptures, etc.— and I’m all for that.
But for the first time I’m getting to know little men, my sons, and I’d like to say I believe the greater marvel, and perhaps more worthy of our meditation, is not that God has chosen to use women, but that he has chosen— so frequently and deeply— to use men.
Little women are born spiritual. They ask deep questions and rattle off their memory verses. My girl of three uses words like selfish and prideful and disobedient. In just a few years, I have no doubt she could give a better sermon than you could find in most pulpits.
In contrast, when the doctor asked my little boy to say some words, he mooed, barked, hooted and howled. I know there is some variation here, but I’ve been polling a lot of boy mamas, and it seems they seldom come across as spiritual.
When my boy does learn to pray I imagine it will be something like Phil Robertson’s, “God, we thank you for another great day on planet Earth.”
My point isn’t to highlight the differences in the sexes, which has been done many a time, but just to share the thought, which hit me this morning: isn’t it amazing that God does so often use men? Isn’t that an even greater testimony of his Power? I think of the men who wrote the great confessions and creeds, and commentaries. They were all little boys once, just a few years away from riding off with a motorcycle gang. The desire to destroy something, to growl and bite and take off with the wind, to be dangerous, to take risks (and perhaps not even live a very long life!) is all there, and then God saves them and harnesses all their strength and foolishness and bullheadedness, and gives them a wife or children or a congregation to gently lead. It’s incredible. It’s incredible that it ever happens, but it does.
I’m probably not even saying all this very well, but what I’m trying to say, is that I love boys. I love that the disciples were men. That God identifies himself by Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. That Jesus is a man! If you are a mom of boys you will know that they will need that encouragement. My daughter doesn’t have any doubt she will be used by God. She’s already planning on having lots of babies and being the choir queen. But my sons, when they are gigging frogs and felling trees and trying to love and understand a woman (God help them!) they will be blessed to know that Jesus is made of the same sort of stuff and seems to especially delight in using the motorcycle gang for his purposes.
And maybe boys are here to teach us that, although sitting sweetly and coloring while listening to a Bible story and answering the questions correctly is wonderful (hallelujah!), being able to crush the serpents head is greater still. And when they destroy your house and stomp in the ant mound and run toward the sound of the chainsaw, dear worn out mama, remember that.
Our boys are 5, 4, and 2 - thank you, thank you, thank you for this.
So much packed in here.
Some of which I need to remind myself when all the parents with firstborn (or only) girls sometime seem to have an entirely different experience of parenting and practicing the faith in the little years. haha
My boys are 2 and 3. I frequently pray, “Lord, I know you’re going to sanctify this and use this (stubbornness, noise, some other trait that is grating on me) someday, but it’s not really useful right now. Please help!”