Mum's the Word

When I was a pastor the one day in the year I got to talk about the mother nature of God was Mothering Sunday. Ironic considering Mothering Sunday historically had nothing to do with mothers but was the Sunday in Lent when servants were given the day off to go back to their mother church, to honour God rather than their actual mothers. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that it began to be associated with honouring mothers, and then soon after became conflated with the American Mother’s Day, albeit on a different day in the year.

So for over a century now it has been a day when we focus on motherhood. A day to show appreciation and love for our mothers, to mourn the loss of our mothers, to grieve for the children we have lost or never had, for the dreams of motherhood that were not to be, or for fractured relationships that killed the dreams and images of motherhood we once clung to. Mother’s Day is a mixed blessing for most of us.

In the light of the terrible events in Ukraine this Mother’s Day struck me as particularly poignant. The agony of mothers holding their broken children, the courage of women facing unimaginable challenges to carry their children to relative safety, the pain of loss alongside undimmed determination . . . all the archetypal images we have of mothers as compassionate, gentle, comforting, caring matched by a fearless, tenacious unremitting defence of their families, a willingness to go to any length, even to die for their child.

All attributes that are found in God. But thanks to patriarchal power and control of the church’s message over the centuries it has historically downplayed or ignored not only the role, equality and significance of women and mothers, but also the powerful metaphor of a loving, tenacious, self-sacrificing mother God, a God who did indeed go to the ultimate length to save his children.

A strange omission because this reality permeates Scripture from start to finish. Genesis 1:27 tells us that we are made male and female in order to reveal the whole image of God. I will avoid all the crass comments about saving the best til last - just say that all great artists make a rough draft before they make a masterpiece!

As with the metaphor of God as Father of course the metaphor of God as Mother is coloured for all of us by our own experience of our earthly mothers. I was thinking today of my own, very dysfunctional relationship with my late mother, and how, while the forgiveness between us was by God’s grace realised in her lifetime, forgetting and learning to negotiate the scars is a long-term project . . . a journey which often leads me to dwell on my own many failures as a mother. I am so grateful to those who have told me that ‘being an ok mother is good enough’, but I still can’t resist the temptation to look with awe and envy at the mothers who seem to have all the maternal instincts and skills I so patently lack.

And yet I do know that not only do I love them with all of my heart, but I would stand against anyone who threatened my children in any way. The urge to protect never dims, even though my son lives thousands of miles away and there is nothing practically I can do to keep him safe, I long to protect him from all harm. Jesus expressed that same longing when he said “how often have I ached to embrace your children, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings . . .” (Matt.23:37 MSG). John Bunyan in Pilgrims Progress wrote that hens have a distinctive cluck, & each hen clucks constantly so her chicks can find her. They recognise her call.

Psalm 91:4 says “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge”

As a mother, I know that desire so deep in me to protect those I love from suffering pain. In my human limitations I cannot always do that. But God, whose heart is always seeking to protect has both the power & the will to cover us with his love. God’s mother love covers a multitude of sins. Whatever your kids have done – you love them. There’s nothing they could do that would stop you loving them.God’s love is like that – on the cross he covered everything we have done wrong. NOTHING we could do, or have done, will separate us from God’s love in Jesus Christ. All we have to do is run under the shelter of his wings - his arms outstretched to us on the cross – & we are saved, cleansed, made whole, protected, held tight in his arms of love.

There is such a beautiful line in Isaiah 49: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast, and have no compassion on the child that she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands”

My children are a part of me, flesh of my flesh. Independent, yes, thank God, free thinking, definitely, their own people, certainly – but always & forever flesh of my flesh.

Even though there are some mothers who for whatever reason

lack a basic instinct of love for their child, God says ‘that’s not

me’. He has engraved us - the word literally means ‘cut’, he has

carved our names on his hands.

When I was a kid my most favourite place in the world was my Grandparents’ garden. They had a big garden, and I would go off for hours with the dogs and live in my own little world in the glorious freedom of this space. One day I carved my name on the trunk of a big oak tree, so that there would always be a part of me in that place. Oak trees last for a long time so maybe even after 55 years it’s still there, who knows.

God has carved my name into the palms of his hands, and my name is there for all eternity. God cannot forget me - or you .

I have learned so much from all of my children, and one of the things my daughter Rebecca has taught me is about a mother’s unconditional love. Her first baby, a beautiful little girl Clementine, was born severely brain damaged. She relied on the loving hands of her mother to care for her every need. Utterly and completely dependent upon Bec for everything. One day when Bec was expecting her second child I watched her cuddling and feeding Clemmie on her lap, and gently laying her hands on the baby in her belly so she could feel it move, and I saw a glimpse of God’s love for us. Clemmie couldn’t understand, but she was content because she was securely held in her mother’s arms. She didn’t even know when she was hungry, but her mother provided for her every need. She was utterly helpless – and completely loved.

Just like us.

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