"You're a saint."

It isn't the first time that it's happened, but this time it happened after leaving the YMCA where Bobbi has therapy in the pool once a week. She and Evania (we got an hour of reading books together while we watched Bobbi) and I were walking out when the grandpa-type walking out to the car next to Big Blue commented on my [quite large] belly and making the classic "haven't you figured out yet how that happens???" joke after that. (Particularly after finding out this was going to be our 10th child!)

My comeback was simply that there are multiple ways of having "that" (which I loosely interpreted to mean, "adding children to a family") happen, and we've only had seven through birth and three through adoption.

And that's when I was given the above title: "You're a saint."

That one bothers me every time. On the one hand, yes, it's true, based purely on my status in Christ as a believer, and thus one who has been "made perfect forever*" but according to that definition, I am also one who is still "being made holy.*" And the implication in that comment is that there is something about what I have done that makes me somehow set on a higher level than the others around me. And oh, how that grates, because it is not what I have done that is what matters. (*from Hebrews 10:14) It is rather, what Jesus Christ has done.

My bathroom reading currently is an abridged version of an old book by J.C. Ryle. Here's a portion of what I read a few days after the above encounter:

"Let us never measure our religion by that of others, and think we are doing enough if we have gone beyond our neighbors. That is another snare of the devil. Let us mind our own business. 'What is that to thee?' said our Master on a certain occasion: 'Follow thou me' (John 21:22). Let us follow on, aiming at nothing short of perfection. Let us follow on, making Christ's life and character our only pattern and example. Let us follow on, remembering daily that at our best we are miserable sinners. Let us follow on, and never forget that it signifies nothing whether we are better than others or not. At our very best we are far worse than we ought to be. There will always be room for improvement in us. We shall be debtors to Christ's mercy and grace to the very last. Then let us leave off looking at others and comparing ourselves with others. We shall find enough to do if we look at our own hearts." ~ J.C. Ryle, "Holiness", from chapter 6: Growth

So, what then? The following are passages that continually resonate with me, and in many ways are the continuous undertone that propels me forward and continues to redirect me when my focus starts to drift off course.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. ~ Hebrews 12:1-4

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. ~ Colossians 3:1-3

 Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 3:12-14

~~~

There's a lot of music around our house. Bobbi's room is a nearly constant stream of music when she's home, and then there's the computer in the school room which is located centrally right off the dining room, and the kids (Owen, Leah, Rinnah, even Evania) have their own playlists that are constantly running. Daddy's office computer either has his music on while he's working, or is used as the stereo system for the living room when he's not. Ever since Matt and the older kids attended a family music festival featuring For King and Country as the final show, we've been hearing a LOT of their music from the central computer, regardless of whose playlist is on!

One of their songs in particular has been resonating with me lately. It's called Fix My Eyes. After beginning the song singing about what they would tell their younger self if given the chance to go back and live life over again, the answer comes in the chorus:

I'd love like I'm not scared

Yes, this is scary

Give when it's not fair

Some care-giving is not greeted with gratitude

Live life for another

She's not afraid to let me know that she needs her mommy-time!

Take time for a brother

Fight for the weak ones

Seizures. What can I say.

Speak out for freedom

Nine years in a crib

Find faith in the battle

Stand tall... 

The suggestion that I'm stupid ("don't you know how that happens?") is still hard to take...

...but above it all

Fix my eyes on you 

And in their own commentary about the song, they make a point about how it all hinges on that last line and a half - all of the stuff that a person may do is nothing in comparison to the need to live life with your eyes on Jesus. When the doing becomes the focus, it loses all of its value. When Jesus is the focus, the doing follows. Also from the song:

It takes a soldier who knows his orders 

to walk the walk I'm supposed to walk.

My walk is not your walk. My walk today is not my walk yesterday, nor tomorrow. I will tell my kids to look at me when I'm giving them directions. If I'm not living every day looking at Jesus, my "commanding officer," I'm not going to know what he wants me to do, where he wants me to go. 

I can wear the "saint" badge not because of the things I've done in my life, but rather (and let's bring in another song, this one from my childhood) because I belong to Him. And when the things that I do are coming from fixing my eyes on him and following him, and not from myself, then they matter.

I see no stain upon you
Because you are My child and you know me
To me you're only holy
Nothing that you've done remains
Only what you do in Me