How God Silenced My Inner Critic and Reminded Me That I Am Enough
/By Marilette Sanchez
Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread would not be enough for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!” (John 6: 5-14, ESV)
It wasn’t just impossible; it was laughable. Jesus and his disciples had the task of feeding a crowd close to 20,000 people (5,000 men plus women and children). Jesus asked Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” Of course, Jesus is God, and he didn’t really need the answer. But He asked Philip anyway. And Philip had the audacity to talk back (most likely sarcastically) to the Creator, “reminding” Jesus that it would take more than half a year’s wages to fund such an endeavor. From there, Jesus didn’t even attempt to explain himself to Philip. He just showed him what He had up His sleeve.
During this season of transitioning from three to four kids, I’ve felt like Philip: annoyed, maybe even angry at God that He would expect me to do something so impossible.
It honestly isn’t even the “being a mom” part. As hard as it is to live in a perpetually cluttered space and hearing “Mama” literally hundreds of times a day, I have a blast. I actually love rising up to the challenges of homeschooling in New York City: lesson planning until late in the evening, squeezing three kids into a stroller designed for two, all while having one more strapped to your chest.
I love it. I love being able to witness each stage of each child’s growth, like my first-born Jeremiah’s first presentation in front of his homeschool co-op class. I love catching those one in ten moments where my kids are actually hugging each other or dancing together instead of bickering. My heart is full when I hear my five-year-old and three-year-old hash it out each morning to see who gets to lay down next to my six-month-old in my bed.
Nope, the source of my stress has not really been from my “Mom” hat.
It’s as if the title character from Disney’s Moana stole a line from my own prayer journal:
“I’ll be satisfied if I play along / But the voice inside sings a different song.”
How I long to just fit into the mold of a homeschooling and stay-at-home mom, and not have any other aspirations, like blogging, at least for now while the kids are young (READ: So. Darn. Needy). But the fact still remains: no matter how many times I cry out to God to allow me to delay my writing for ten years and just focus on homeschooling, I know deep in my heart that God is not calling me to do so.
Since my youngest, Selah, was born six months ago, I’ve procrastinated multiple times on writing or working on my blog. Writing takes emotional strength, and after spending all day with young kids, I always feel like I have nothing left to give of myself in writing.
Please, God, can I end this perpetuity of jack of all trades, master of none? Why couldn’t you pick someone who wasn’t a mom of four littles to wrestle with the heart-wrenching topics I cover on my blog? Someone with the emotional energy and time to spare?
But in my wrestling, God always meets me. He brought me to the parable of the talents in Matthew 25:14-30. One of my favorite authors Oswald Chambers wrote about it:
Jesus’ parable of the talents…was a warning that it is possible for us to misjudge our capacities. [...] We must never measure our spiritual capacity on the basis of our education or our intellect; our capacity in spiritual things is measured on the basis of the promises of God. […] We [can] falsely accuse Him as the servant falsely accused his master when he said, “You expect more of me than you gave me the power to do. You demand too much of me, and I cannot stand true to you here where you have placed me.” When it is a question of God’s Almighty Spirit, never say, “I can’t.” Never allow the limitation of your own natural ability to enter into the matter. If we have received the Holy Spirit, God expects the work of the Holy Spirit to be exhibited in us. [...] Never forget that our capacity and capability in spiritual matters is measured by, and based on, the promises of God.
I can get angry at God because it seems He is asking too much of me, but usually it’s just because I’m putting words in His mouth.
God has been revealing to me that the reason I get frustrated and overwhelmed is because I place unrealistic expectations upon myself that He never placed on me.
When my inner voice calls myself a mediocre homemaker, God tells me I don’t need to cook a different home-cooked meal every night, or have the house completely clutter-free before my husband Moses gets home from work.
When my inner voice calls myself a mediocre homeschooling mom, God tells me I don’t need to cover every subject in a single day. And (as unglamorous as it is) it’s OK to stick to teaching Jeremiah reading, writing, and math every day, while skipping all those complicated Science projects from Pinterest.
When my inner voice calls myself a mediocre blogger, God reminds me that all those bloggers I’m comparing myself to (yup, those who post daily) have ENTIRE TEAMS behind them. And (ahem) they get paid.
For the past six months, I’ve been trying to write in my own power, not out of an overflow of my relationship with God. And (surprise, surprise!) I come up short every time.
After Philip reminded Jesus of the hopelessness of the situation of feeding the crowd, Jesus ignores his comment and essentially asks his other disciples, “Well, what do you have?” Andrew, another disciple, replies, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?”
God reminds me that when it is time to write something, the Holy Spirit will take over and give me what I need. He shows me that it's OK if my writing sessions consist of typing with one hand on my iPhone while breastfeeding Selah, and not always the three uninterrupted hours at a coffee shop, latte in hand. He tells me that if I stay up late to write, He will be faithful to renew my strength and give me just the rest I need to deal with another day of dealing with the chaos that is raising four young kids. God is faithful to use my “barley loaves and two fish”, and in His power multiply it into something much more than I could have ever mustered up on my own.
Love,
P.S. Britt Nicole is my spirit animal. This song is PERFECTION.
