Dear Mama, I Salute You

In honor of Mother's Day.


It's easy to get caught up in the mommy-game war of comparison. To wonder if you're doing it all right or doing enough or if someone is always doing it better. I wonder how much time the average mom spends worrying about such things. That sucks. We should rally around each other, all the time, no matter what. Who cares if we do things differently in one area or every area? I'll do what works for me & my children & you'll do the same. Whether you co-sleep or have had your baby in their own crib in their own room since day one or spank or do time-outs or eat all organic or feed your kids mac&cheese from the box at least twice a week... I hope we can remember those are not the things that matter most. What matters is you are nurturing and loving and raising up a young soul. You have another's livelihood in your very capable (but very tired) hands, and that is what is important. And I want to take today to tell all the mamas out there--

I SALUTE YOU.

To the new moms, who are covered in spit up and have bags under your eyes and are choosing to not leave the house unless it's an emergency, I SALUTE YOU.

To the veteran moms who have walked the road before us, who have already gone from skinned knees to broken hearts & playing dress-up to real wedding days, who have successfully kicked your young ones from the nest to fly on their own, I SALUTE YOU.

To the clean-freak moms who boil the pacifier each time it falls on the floor and might as well own stock in hand sanitizer, I SALUTE YOU. And to the moms who choose to clean the pacifier with your own mouths and who were well-intentioned enough to buy an extra large bottle of hand sanitizer that only has a few pumps missing months later, I SALUTE YOU. (I also have a large almost-full bottle of hand sanitizer, if anyone wants it...)

To the breastfeeding moms who perpetually smell like milk and stay home more often than you would like because you are afraid of how others will act or your baby always throws off the cover (or is that just mine?) or you just can't get the hang of nursing in public, I SALUTE YOU. And to the mothers who have formula-fed since day one for whatever the reason, I SALUTE YOU, TOO.

To the moms who worry about each sniffle and cough and google every symptom and buy all new clothes and new toys, I SALUTE YOU. And to the moms who never google anything and use all hand-me-downs and forgot diapers on your trip out and had to use a maxi-pad instead, I SALUTE YOU.

To the adoptive moms who have paperwork pregnancies and babies that are born from your hearts instead of your bodies, I SALUTE YOU. I know that you have to endure nosy questions and inappropriate comments and usually do so with a smile and a heart of understanding, except on the days when you've just had enough. Either way, I SALUTE YOU. To the foster moms who walk an extremely hard road of loving children as your own and then saying goodbye when the time comes, I SALUTE YOU.

To the stay-at-home moms, whose days are filled with cooking and cleaning and washing and crafts and wiping noses and wiping tears and changing diapers and changing clothes and stopping fights and whiners and worriers and tea parties and fort-building and about a thousand other things-- I SALUTE YOU. And to the moms who work outside the home and then come home to pick up where you left off with all the things listed above, I SALUTE YOU.

To the single moms, whether by choice or by circumstance, I know you probably never saw yourself doing it alone. You are juggling more than you ever thought possible and often cannot let yourself think past today because the thoughts can be so overwhelming.  Amidst the struggle, I SALUTE YOU.

To the moms that send their kids to public school, who dread the summer (a little or a lot), and take a deep breath of relief when autumn approaches, I SALUTE YOU. To the moms who take the role of teacher upon themselves, whose days are filled with math and history that you never thought you'd see again, who decide the best route for your family is to homeschool your kids for part or all of their education, I SALUTE YOU, TOO.

A special salute to the moms that have lost a child. I am so sorry. There is nothing natural about having to bury a child that you birthed, a child that you dreamed of for months or even years, one that you certainly never imagined would end this way. That pain is nothing less than excruciating and suffocating. You have an inner strength that is unmatched. I SALUTE YOU.

So today, on this Mother's Day weekend, I raise my glass and give a toast to MOTHERS-- young or old, of one kid or nine, no matter your parenting styles or opinions or personal convictions.. I want you to know that you are doing it. That is what matters. You are continually, day after day, putting someone else's needs ahead of your own. You are walking around with a piece (or pieces) of your heart outside your body. You have taken on the most difficult yet most rewarding role. I hope you know that you are doing a good job. And, at the end of each day, I hope that we can put our differences aside and say to each other,

I SALUTE YOU.
 

Life's Not Fair

Some days I want to cross my arms, stomp my feet, & yell
“IT’S NOT FAIR!!”

It’s not fair that my daddy got cancer when I was 11. It’s not fair that he always believed he would be healed, but then he wasn’t. It’s not fair that he died when I was fifteen, at the most vulnerable time in my life, & sent my family on a downward spiral. It’s not fair that he didn’t teach me to drive or see me get ready for prom or watch me graduate or rock Malachi to sleep or that he’ll never walk me down the aisle.

And although I know He had a little bit of help (ha) on this one, I don’t think it’s fair that I have Malachi. I’ve struggled with both ends of the spectrum in this situation. The pendulum swings to one side, and I think it’s not fair that I was the one who got pregnant when there are people out there more promiscuous (just keepin’ it real, folks) than I was. Sometimes I feel it’s not fair because I had plans & dreams & hopes of what my future would look like, and I can tell you right now that none of them involved being a single mom. And then the pendulum swings to the other side, and I think it’s not fair that so many people struggle with infertility & want nothing more than to have a baby… They try & try for years on end with no results. They are ready for a child. I wasn’t. Yet out of my disobedience, God has blessed me with a son. There is certainly nothing fair about that.

And then, in the middle of my pity party, He starts to speak to me about fair.

“Fair? Fair, my child? You want to talk to Me about fair? What about the cross? What about Calvary? Is it fair that I punished MY SON for YOUR sin? Is it fair that I turned away from him & toward you? That I let him take the consequences that YOU deserve? Is it fair that even though you turn from me again & again (& again & again & again….) I always welcome you back with open arms? You know what is not fair? LOVE. Love is not fair. My grace for you is not fair. I never promised you that life would be fair. You should be glad that I didn’t. Because the compassionate, merciful, all-encompassing love that I have for you is not fair.”

And so I sit humbly at His feet, remembering His goodness & His faithfulness in this season. I thank Him & rejoice in the fact that

life is not fair.

Malachi's birth story

Here it is! It's a bit long and shares most of the details (not quite all, which I'm sure you will be thankful for!) of Malachi's birth. 

In mid-November, I started experiencing some all-over itching. At first, it wasn't so bad and so I didn't mention it to my doctor. I figured my skin was probably just dry from the weather changing. But it kept getting progressively worse and worse. A couple of weeks after it started, I mentioned it to my doctor. He said to try benedryll and oatmeal baths for a week. I did and they didn't seem to help much - or at all. The itching was driving me crazy. It was the worst at night and on my feet. I had a hard time sleeping every night because I was itching so badly! I was certain that I would wake up to bloody sheets at some point from scratching in my sleep. It was miserable. I did a little bit of research and came across a fairly rare (about 1/2000) gallbladder condition called cholestasis. The only side effect that is usually seen is severe itching- usually in the hands and feet. (1/1 in symptoms seemed like enough confirmation to consider it.) The only risks associated with cholestasis are fetal distress and having a stillborn. No middle ground-- it can either cause nothing or it can cause the baby's organs to fail. Yikes. So the next week I asked him if we should test for it, and he said yes. So that day (the 12th or 13th, not sure) they drew my blood. He told me that my gallbladder function test wouldn't come back until the end of the next week-- but if my gallbladder was REALLY out of whack, it would come up on my liver test a few days before they got the other results. So that was that. 

Fast forward to the 18th of December. Around 3:05, just a few minutes after I had put my feet into a pedicure bath (thanks, Grandma!), my doctor called. I knew as soon as I realized it was him on the phone. He told me that he had some bad news-- that I did in fact have cholestasis and would need to be induced. He apologized because he knew that went against everything I was hoping this labor and delivery would be. He told me what my options were: either way, I needed to go into the hospital that afternoon for some monitoring. They would watch Malachi's heartbeat while running another liver function test to see if it had gotten worse. If it had, I would need to be induced that night. If not, I could either get induced that night, come back Sunday for monitoring (and potentially get induced that night if I needed to) or, at the very latest, get induced on Tuesday night-- Christmas Eve. He told me that waiting would increase the risk-- not a ton-- but it would raise it. I thanked him for the information and told him that I would go up to the hospital and see from there. Just as soon as I finished my pedicure. :) I immediately called mom and had a hard time keeping from sobbing. It took her a few calls to answer but when she did I just kinda lost it. I told her everything and we were at least able to laugh a bit about the fact that that very morning I had told her that she should probably pack her hospital bag-- that he could come anytime. She was planning on packing it that night. But she rushed home and packed as I finished my pedicure and then we met at Gaga's. I called Mallory and let her know what was going on while I waited for Mom. I told the G's, grabbed my stuff, and then mom and I headed up there. Egide (baby daddy) met us up there, and Christy was working- so that was good. I got all hooked up to the monitors, had my blood drawn, and waited. His heartbeat was strong the whole time & then the results came back-- slightly worse. So they told me that it was my decision. It was a bizarre feeling-- choosing to have my baby born. I didn't feel ready at all! But I had talked it over with Mom and Mal and knew that waiting would mean a whole lot of anxiousness on my part-- I don't think I would have slept until he was here. I would be paranoid and worrying all the time about why he's not moving and things like that. It wouldn't be worth it. So I said it-- let's do it tonight. And they admitted me right then! 

I got to have one last meal and Christy and Egide went to get Panera, and it was delicious. Mom and Mal both stayed the night up there with me. I was able to sleep some- but mom didn't sleep at all. Anytime his heartbeat went off the monitor (which happened every time I moved or scratched my feet or anything...which was a lot) she would get up to check it. At 8PM they placed the first Cytotec - a little pill that they put at the opening of your cervix to ripen it. Awesome. I had another one at midnight and 4AM. And then around 830, the show got on the road. They broke my water-- which hurt and then felt like I wet the bed. (Haha, TMI yet?) At 9, they started the Pitocen. It was hell for the next 3 hours. The contractions were immediately strong and hard. I was in so much pain. I was up walking around as much as I could because I knew that the impending epidural would mean that I would be constrained to bed. But it was a MISERABLE 3 hours. Mom, Mal, and Egide were all in there for it with Christy working so coming in and out as she could. It was rough. Finally, around noon, I was 3cm dilated and could get an epidural. YES PLEASE. I made my last stretch around the room and last independent bathroom trip until little man's arrival. I crawled into bed & the saint of pain removal came and gave me the epidural. Within ten or fifteen minutes, I was completely numb from the waist down. Ahhhhhhhhh.

The next 6 hours were just a waiting game. For some reason, it was hard to monitor my contractions-- they didn't really come up on the monitor. But I continued to progress nicely without them having to up my pitocin (which I was thankful for.) Around 6:15, it was announced that I was 10cm and 100% effaced. Time to push. At that point, Clarissa (my mentor) had joined our group as well. Margaret decided that I was far enough along to call the doctor. I decided to put a little mascara on since I knew pictures would follow. :) 

Words cannot even come close to describing how much I missed my daddy that day. I would have done anything for him to be there. I always knew that my heart would break a little extra when I brought a child into this world that would not ever get the privilege of knowing the incredible man that he was. So thankful that Mallory captured this picture of him "with us" that day.

Mallory is Malachi's godmother. This was just before the real "fun" began!

And then we began pushing. You are supposed to push through contractions, but like I said, mine weren't really showing up on the monitor for some reason so we had to kinda guess when I was supposed to push. No good. The doctor came a few minutes later and we continued. It is a very bizarre sensation to try to push while the bottom half of your body is completely numb. It's just so weird. It seemed like I couldn't quite get the push right until halfway or more through the second push-- so instead of getting thirty seconds of really good pushing-- it was usually only around 15. Frustrating. Mom kept the ice chips flowing, Clarissa was giving me massages, and Mal was taking pictures. They were all three very encouraging and I'm so glad they were there.

So after about 2 1/2 hours of pushing, I finally gave birth to Malachi Jacob at 8:32.. And he came face up! Oops! Usually they know if they are face up and can turn them, but for some reason, the doctor didn't pick up on that. So instead, he was in the birth canal for a while as I tried to push him out. Which resulted in a MASSIVE block head. Not even cone shaped. Like an actual block was on top of his head. Let's just say it was a bit traumatic for both of us.

Regretting my choice to put make-up on!

Immediately they brought his sticky self to my stomach. He let a huge wail out as soon as he was born-- strong boy. Christy and Egide were standing outside the door and got to hear his first cry. We let his cord pulse for a few minutes and then Mallory did the honors. He scored 8-9 on his Apgar (strong boy!) and they put him on my chest as she cleaned him off a bit. I could not believe it. I was a mom!! I was flooded with emotion-- more than I ever knew possible. I was so in love with him right away. Surreal. That's the best way to explain it. 

Christy was able to take his vitals and weight and do his footprints which was pretty special. 

I kept saying that Malachi looked Tibetan or Mongolian and he totally did. He weighed 6lb 12oz and was 21 inches long.

Gaga, Grandpa, John, Melanie, and Eden came in as well to see him. 

John came bearing my congratulatory meal-- chicken nuggets and a peppermint shake from CFA of course.

"We're parents!!!"

Proud daddy.

Proud godmother.

So blessed to have the unconditional love and support from my mom. She is loving her role as Jjajja! (The Luganda word for "grandmother.") 

Pastor Anthony came by and prayed over Malachi. Such a sweet visit only a few hours after he was born. I cannot think of a better way to have ended the day but to cover my sweet little man in prayer.

Malachi is now 6 weeks old and weighing 8lb 2oz. He is the sweetest baby, and we are absolutely in love! It has been a whirlwind of a month and a half, but God has been so good and so present through it all. He continues to lavish grace, peace, and joy over me in a way that I do not deserve in the least. I am excited about the road that He has us on and am continuing to try to trust Him each step of the way.

between two worlds

Coming home is never easy. 

Transition, in general, is hard for me. Even with all of the times I've been in and out of the country, this kind of transition never gets easier for me. I am overwhelmed. Confused. Torn.

Trapped between two worlds. 

In a span of a few hours (in the grand scheme of things-- although traveling around the world feels like it goes on for weeks sometimes. Especially when you're 7 months pregnant. Extra especially when no one can tell that you're expecting. But I'm getting off subject. Blame pregnancy brain.) my entire world changes. My normal shifts from one side of the spectrum to the other. 

It's normal for me to drive on the left side of the road, dodging pot-holes, people, bicycles, motorcycles, and various forms of livestock-- all while never exceeding about 30 miles per hour.

But in the blink of an eye, it is also normal for me to drive on the right side of the road amidst traffic flying by at 75 miles per hour. It's normal for me to easily jump in my own car, buckle up (!!!), turn on the radio and AC, and easily get to wherever I want to go, usually with no hold-ups. 

It's normal for errands to take all day. To go to five different supermarkets looking for yogurt or chicken fillets or pancake syrup because everyone is out of the rare items. It's normal to run to the clinic without an appointment for a $10 check-up. It's normal that a friend drew my blood at home and we take it to the lab ourselves to save us some time and a couple of dollars. 

But I hop on a plane and then it's normal to be home from the grocery store in an hour with anything and everything I could possibly want. My first doctor's appointment here was made weeks in advance, and I don't even want to know how much it's going to cost me. I'm fairly certain I won't be walking into his office with my own tube of blood this time.

It's normal for me to have conversations that mostly center around lives at stake and people's wellbeing that are in our hands-- a friend dying of AIDS, a sick little boy who keeps going into crisis due to sickle cell anemia, the lies & deception & tragic histories & unethical practices & everything else that surround us and make ministry and life there hard. 

And suddenly it's normal to talk mostly about how nice the weather is, college football, new stuff and how "busy" life is. (Although life here is rarely urgent the way that life there is.) Maybe the conversation occasionally turns to what's going on in the world, and it's casually mentioned that Uganda is expecting a terrorist attack similar to the one in Kenya last month. No big deal for most people here. Except that I just came back from that country. Except that I love that country and so, so many people in it. 

That's when the discrepancy between my life here and my life there feels suffocating. Like I'm walking on a tight rope between these two worlds, these two extremes that both feel natural sometimes. The tension is sometimes too much to handle, and I end up crying from being overwhelmed in the aisles of WalMart or snapping at someone about getting over themselves and realizing what is truly important in this life. 

So here's an apology in advance if you catch me on a day where the tension in my heart is too much for me to handle. I wouldn't trade my experiences overseas for anything, but it does make living a "typical" life in America difficult to navigate sometimes. 

But I am thankful for a God who gives peace, joy, and affirmation each step of the way. I know that even though the biggest piece of my heart is thousands of miles away, I am firmly planted here for now, and this is where I need to be. 

follow up: being pregnant in Uganda

It’s hard for me to put into words my feelings about the reaction to my pregnancy announcement. The messages, emails, and texts have flooded in, and I have been nothing but encouraged and supported. I am so humbled that God has continued to use me during this time, and I am so thankful that people have been willing to take a few minutes out of their days to confirm that again and again. From people letting me know they have “been there” to people saying that my message came just for them and at just the right time to people simply affirming the way that I have tried to handle this situation, I have been blown away by each response. I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has been so encouraging, caring, and loving. Your prayers mean more than anything, and I am grateful for how many people have been lifting Malachi and me to the Lord. And, just for the fun of it, I've included the first picture for this blog:  Malachi's adorable 19 week photograph. I love him so much already!

Anywayyy... I’ve also had a lot of questions, and wanted to do my best to answer a few of those here:

Are you staying in Uganda? What are your plans?

I am staying throughout the duration of my trip, which has me leaving the country on October 14^th. I will be two days short of 28 weeks! I contemplated staying and having the baby here, but after a lot of prayer and seeking advice, decided that going home is the best decision. It is nothing short of the complete and divine sovereignty of God that allowed me to be here during this time, and it could not have been more perfect. I love that I have been able to process much of this surrounded by a strong community and with the continuing ability to serve people and organizations that I love so much. I am still praying through plans, but I feel that this would be a good time for me to pursue a graduate degree in Christian counseling. The whole purpose of this trip was to find “what’s next” —either a position here that I could step into or a need that I could help meet. Through several different circumstances, God has opened my eyes to the need for trained therapists in this country. I would love to eventually work with the people here—especially women and children.

How have you been doing physically?

Great! For the most part, at least! God has been incredibly gracious and merciful to me, and my symptoms have been moderate at worst. Exhaustion has easily been my main side effect, but other than that, it’s been pretty smooth sailing! I did not have any morning sickness at all, which I was very thankful for! I have also not had any intense food cravings or aversions. (At least nothing more intense than the Chick Fil A cravings that I have every time I’m out of the country!!) I am in the stage of pregnancy when I have been feeling little man kick/move/squirm very frequently, and I love it! It is the most special, unique, incredible feeling. I can’t get enough. I’ve been blessed to have such little trouble so far. I’ve been sick a decent amount, which is never fun here because 1) it’s hard to know exactly what is wrong; 2) it’s hard to treat something that you are unsure about; and 3) I don’t have my momma! But overall we’ve been doing alright. (But continued prayers for health and safety are much appreciated!)

What’s it like to be pregnant in Uganda?

For the most part, great! My monthly check-ups cost between $10-$30, depending on if I need anything-- and my ultrasounds have cost a whopping $8! That’s probably the biggest perk to being pregnant in a third world country. Some of the downfalls? There’s no such thing as comfortable furniture here, so the further along I get, the more I want a Lazy Boy recliner! I know it’d be worse if I had morning sickness or if I was having lots of cravings or food aversions. I think my body knows what it can/can’t get for the most part and is being extra easy on me. Protein is harder and more expensive to come by here, which can be frustrating. I don’t have a car here, so my options are to ask other people for a ride or take a boda—a motorcycle taxi. I’ve done a lot of both, and the Lord has kept us safe! In general, life here just tends to be a bit more difficult, and I’d be lying if I said that the pains of pregnancy here haven’t made me look forward to going home. (I never thought there would be anything that could make me want to leave this place, but the 40-hour power outages combined with intense heat are quickly achieving that!)  

So, that pretty much sums up what it’s been like to be pregnant in Uganda these past six months. Again, I am beyond blessed to have been here during this time, and wouldn’t trade a single day of it. (Even the ones without power!) I am continuing to have more and more trust in God—both in the big things and the little things. 

He is good. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. And I am thankful.

grace, pt 3. [the big news]

A few weeks ago I started a series on grace.

The ravishing, unrelenting love and faithfulness of God that is not dependent in the least on what we do or say has completely turned my world upside down over the last several months.

“If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others. We cling to our bad feelings and beat ourselves with the past when what we should do is let go. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, guilt is an idol. But when we dare to live as forgiven men and women, we join the wounded healers and draw closer to Jesus.” –Brennan Manning, Abba’s Child

I have alluded to there being something-- a specific situation-- that He has been using to teach me these lessons. And now I want to share that blessing with you.

That blessing is now almost 21 weeks old and weighing in at around ten ounces. Due to arrive the first week of January, the Lord has been using the boy (!!!) that I am now carrying to teach me about my desperate need for a Savior, the weakness of my flesh, and most importantly, His desire to use all things for His glory and the good of those who love Him.

It happened with a close friend a few days before I left for Uganda. It happened one time, and I was deeply grieved by the sin that I had committed. I repented, was forgiven, made white as snow, and moved on. The last thing that I wanted was guilt or shame (saying that the blood of Jesus was not enough to cover this sin) inhibiting me from loving well and wanting to spend time with God.

“The poor man and woman of the gospel have made peace with their flawed existence. They are aware of their lack of wholeness, their brokenness, the simple fact that they don’t have it all together. While they do not excuse their sin, they are humbly aware that sin is precisely what has caused them to throw themselves at the mercy of the Father. They do not pretend to be anything but what they are: sinners saved by grace.” –Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

I refuse to see my child as a consequence of my sin. Are there other consequences? Absolutely. Some of the changes that have come and will come are not fun. I am not downplaying that our actions have consequences, sometimes ones that change everything in our life. My child is a result of my sin, yes. But a blessing. Nothing but a blessing.

I found out very early on, when I was barely two weeks pregnant. At first, I didn’t know what to do. I was confused, scared, and emotional. (Okay, I’m still pretty emotional!) But over the past several months, I cannot put into words the amount of peace, love, and joy that God has covered me with. Through the Word, encouragement and prayers from others, and books that I am reading, I have been overwhelmed by the presence of God. I can honestly say that I understand the Gospel, grace, and unconditional love better now than ever before. I know that it is not going to be an easy road, but I refuse to let my sin debilitate me. I am human. Stuff happens. But God’s faithfulness is not dependent on my own. He still has plans for me, and He has plans for this child. I believe He is the only one who can give life, and I feel that He has entrusted me to glorify His name even in the middle of such difficult and precarious circumstances.

“Here was the purest picture I’d ever seen of God’s relentless pursuit of His raggedy creation. Not that I could sin more so grace might abound, but grace abounded more because I could find it in the darkness as much as in the light.” –Michael W. Smith, foreword in The Ragamuffin Gospel

My life is not over. My call to missions has not ended. I have not given up the fight. God is not finished writing my story. We are simply starting a new chapter together. One that I wasn’t anticipating, but one that is here.

Shocking? Yes. But that’s life.

“The apparent frustrations of circumstances, seen or unforeseen, of illness, of misunderstandings, even of our own sins, do not thwart the final fulfillment of our lives hidden with Christ in God.” –Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

My desire for the Lord has not changed. My love for the Lord has not changed. I want to be used by Him, however He sees fit, for nothing other than to bring glory to His name. He has carried me through much, how could I give Him less than everything?

So here I am, starting on a very new, very exciting, very humbling journey… Hoping that you decide to come along with me.

**In a desire to live an honest and transparent life, I want you to know that you are welcome to ask me any questions you might have. To honor my community of family, friends, and supporters, I will continue to live my life this way. You are welcome to leave a comment here (they will be moderated), email me at grace.hartmann@gmail.com or send them to me in a private Facebook message. 

grace, pt. 2 [lessons from the life of david]

“We all have shadows and skeletons in our backgrounds. But listen, there is something bigger in this world than we are and that something bigger is full of grace and mercy, patience and ingenuity. The moment the focus of your life shifts from your badness to His goodness and the question becomes not “What have I done?” but “What can He do?” release from remorse can happen; miracle of miracles, you can forgive yourself because you are forgiven, accept yourself because you are accepted, and begin to start building up the very places you once tore down. There is grace to help in every time of trouble. That grace is the secret to being able to forgive ourselves. Trust it.” Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

Let’s talk about David.

I think that the life of David is one of the most stunning examples of grace in the entire Bible.

You’ve got this kid who is chosen by God at a very young age and marked for greatness. He single-handedly defeats an army that has been tormenting the Israelites for who-knows-how-long. He is incredibly successful. He rules all of Israel for decades. The Bible says time and time again that God was with David. He had a long and prosperous life. He is in the lineage of Christ.

And most importantly, he is the only person in the entire Bible that is referred to as a “man after God’s own heart.” Wow. Can you imagine? That’s quite a statement. It sounds like David had it all together spiritually. I’m sure he had pretty consistent quiet times, writing psalms, singing, praying, and pouring his heart out to God. Right? He had to have been a pretty holy guy for God to have spoken so highly about him.

And yet.

Well into his life, into his ministry, into his relationship with God, he messed up. By human standards he committed two of the largest, most heinous sins:  adultery and murder.

But this guy LOVED GOD!!! Didn’t he? Maybe that is the wrong question. Maybe what I should be asking is:

Don’t I love God? 

Still, in the midst of that, no one questions his love for the Lord and desire to please and serve Him. No one says, “David was a man after God’s own heart except for when all of that stuff with Bathsheba was going on.” It does say that he did what was pleasing to God and kept His commands except in the case of Bathsheba (1 Kings 15:5), but it does not say anything about the posture of his heart being any different during that time.

Nope. Not what it says.

David was still a lover of the Lord, even though he made some pretty bad decisions. His sin and indiscretion did not disqualify him from going after the heart of God. We are human. Stuff happens. No one is exempt from this. “For ALL have sinned,” (Romans 3:23); “for NO ONE is righteous; NO ONE understands, NO ONE seeks God.” (Romans 3:10.)

I hope that people can see the same thing in me. That yes, I love and follow the Lord and desire to please Him more than anything else. But yes, I also fail and fall and choose my flesh and am human. In the midst of that mess, it doesn’t change my heart for God. Instead, it pushes me to further acknowledge my desperate need for a Savior, and know that I can do nothing but accept with open hands and a grateful heart the incredible gift of His grace.

“The poor man and woman of the gospel have made peace with their flawed existence. They are aware of their lack of wholeness, their brokenness, the simple fact that they don’t have it all together. While they do not excuse their sin, they are humbly aware that sin is precisely what has caused them to throw themselves at the mercy of the Father. They do not pretend to be anything but what they are: sinners saved by grace.” Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

[Stay tuned for the rest of the series that I am doing on the concept of grace and what avenue He has been using to teach me these lessons.]