An Invitation to Look

There are things in this photo that may seem trivial, if you notice them at all. Two pairs of sunglasses—too small for the mom and dad who wear them. Not nearly big enough to illustrate the significance of two precious lives, but a tangible reminder, nonetheless. For Robert and me, having the sunglasses felt like including Olivia and A.J. It made taking a family Easter photo a little easier than it might have been. 

The sunglasses don’t have much value on their own. (I’m pretty sure I bought them from the dollar spot at Target.) They’re just plastic shades—not something I would normally keep for long, except that they immediately bring to mind her infectious smile and his laughing eyes. The worth is found in who they represent.

Having two children in heaven makes me long, all the more, to see our other three there when That Day comes. It’s a burden that has intensified over the past year. I want Hilaria, Jazzy, and Roxie to know Jesus intimately—to cherish Him first, most, and best. My heart’s desire is to see them head-over-heels in love with God so that all of the world pales in comparison.

Very often, I feel like I’m failing in helping them grow in faith. I come down hard when I should show grace. I miss opportunities to tend to their souls. My love falls short. 

But as I was thinking about our family Easter photo, Jesus helped me to see my role as a mom in a new way. When it comes to my children’s relationships with God, I can function like the sunglasses in the photograph.

See, the thought that a pair of sunglasses could take the place of a beloved child is absurd. It’s as ludicrous as the idea that my parenting efforts can take the place of Jesus Himself. But replacement wasn’t what we had in mind when we snapped that picture on Sunday after church. We just wanted to draw attention to two children who are very much a part of our family, though they are no longer here in the flesh. 

It occurs to me that pointing to Jesus—simply drawing attention to Him—is the larger part of my job as a mom. Jesus is captivating. His love is magnetic—so much so that an invitation to look goes a long way.

We see this in John 1, where a series of people become ardent followers of Jesus, simply because John the Baptist recognized that he was not the light but rather “a witness to tell about the light” (vs. 8). He was not the Messiah but rather “a voice shouting in the wilderness, ‘Clear the way for the LORD’s coming!’” (vs. 23). Though John had previously preached repentance and baptism, the culmination of his ministry was an invitation to look at Jesus:

“Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! He is the one I was talking about when I said, ‘A man is coming after me who is far greater than I am, for He existed long before me’” (vs. 29-30).

John’s disciples did look at Jesus, and then they followed Him. Responding to Jesus’ subsequent invitation to “Come and see,” they encouraged others to do the same (vs. 39). One of these others was a man named Nathaniel. Despite his doubts that anything good could come from the town of Nazareth, he responded to Philip’s invitation to “Come and see for yourself” (vs. 46). One encounter with Jesus changed Nathaniel’s mind completely.

Here’s the lesson I’m learning: There are things that I can do to nurture my children’s relationship with Jesus. I can pray with and for them. I can teach them God’s Word and how to obey it. I can model a Christ-centered approach to life. With God’s help, I can love them well.

But I cannot change hearts or stir up passionate devotion. Fortunately, Jesus doesn’t need my help in that area. He is unadulterated Light. Undeniable Truth. Unbridled Life. He is Love incarnate. If a person looks at Him—really looks at Him. How can they help but fall in love?

So, my task is not really a task at all. And my burden isn’t very burdensome. Because it is a joy to look at Jesus, and by looking at Him I can encourage my children to look at Him too.

My personality teeters toward Type A, and even as I typed the previous sentence, I found myself wondering if it could really be that simple as that. Yet, instinctively I realize that if I were to venture into the backyard and stare into the sky with great enthusiasm and concentration, my children would eventually look up to find the object of my interest. 

So it is with Jesus. If I look at Him often and with adoration, my kids will look too. And the more they look, the more they’ll discover. The more they’ll want to look again.

Father,

When I find myself being driven by fear of failing as a parent, teach me to look to Your Son. Remind me that the love that I need to receive and extend to others is found in Him Alone. Let my looking be contagious so that my children come to love You more than anyone or anything else.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.