“When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, ‘Woman, here is your son,’ [27] and to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’”
John 19:26-27, New International Version
Jesus, the Savior of the world, was about to accomplish the greatest miracle of all time. Everything in His life and everything prophesied in Scripture had prepared Him for these dark, gruesome hours. Yet for someone known as the Word made flesh (John 1:14), He Himself had very few final words. Dehydrated and dying—weakened from bleeding out on the cross—Jesus used His remaining strength to ensure that a very special someone was taken care of when He left this earth: His mother.
When we think about Jesus as the Son of God, we often overlook that He was also the son of a woman. Just like us, Jesus had to be incubated in a womb. He had to have diapers changed and lunches made. Who sewed up the robes that He tore while climbing trees? Who lovingly refused to serve Him dinner until He washed the sawdust from His hands? Jesus had a mother. And just as He demonstrated how we are to love God and people, He also demonstrated how we are to love the women who raised us.
When I left home to go to Charis Bible College, I thought the process of being raised by my mother was finished. One year and several bad financial decisions later, I learned I was sorely wrong. At twenty-three years old, I had to swallow my pride and go live with my parents, who by that time had also moved to Colorado for Charis.
As a Charis student in my second year, I learned a great deal about the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23). However, nothing taught me humility like having to resubmit myself to my parents. Ironically, nothing taught me God’s grace like their love.
“Jeff, breakfast is ready,” my mom would say to wake me up in the best way possible. Every morning before I rushed off to school, she would get up extra early to make me bacon and eggs. When I returned home after a long day of work, I would find a thoughtfully made dinner waiting for me in the oven.
Why would she go the extra mile for me? Was it not my mistakes that led me back to my parents’ house? Shouldn’t I suffer the full consequences of my stupidity?
While I struggled with thoughts of failure and doubt, my mother reminded me of my value through doing my laundry, making my bunk bed (yes, a bunk bed), and keeping the fridge stocked with all the goodies that only I enjoyed. Before long, I started to realize that it was through the small, mundane things that I had taken for granted that she silently said, No matter what, you will always be my son.
I believe God uses mothers to show us one of the many facets of His infinite love. How often have we taken this love for granted? Jesus recognized the significance of His mother while dying for the sins of the entire world. This indicates that no matter how busy we are, we should find the time to call our mothers, send them a card—show them our gratitude for everything they’ve done.
