Look at me when I’m talking to you!  How often do you say this?  I’ve said it 3700 times. Just this month.

Why is it difficult to get my children to look me in the eyes when I’m giving a (perfectly crafted, well delivered, and rhetorically magnificent) lecture? Perhaps they don’t expect what I have to say will benefit them.

Such was the lame man at the Beautiful Gate in Acts 3. (Hey friend, do not skip reading the scripture because you’ve “heard it 1000 times.” You’re already here, just do it.)

Now Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms.  And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.”  And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them.  But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!”  And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.  And leaping up, he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God.  And all the people saw him walking and praising God, and recognized him as the one who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, asking for alms. And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.  (Acts 3:1-10, ESV)

#hearditbefore. I know. The lame man carried by someone else, sitting at the gate, day after day, begging. Peter and John walk by, offer him nothing of worldly value. They simply extend a hand, look him in the eye and heal all the broken places in him.  Then he goes on his way, practically break-dancing in the streets. Right on, not-so-lame man. Dance it out.

Don’t miss what jumped out at me as I read this. Before he went into the temple, notice his location. He was plopped down at the Beautiful Gate. Not the Ugly Gate. Not the Mundane Gate, not the Impossible Gate.  It was called beautiful, and it was taunting him day after day while he sat close enough to see what he didn’t have.

How often do I sit at the Beautiful Gate of motherhood, envious of Instagramably perfect families, dreaming of what life with children should look like?  We all know sassy kids, rebellious teens and a sink of dirty dishes is the furthest thing from beautiful on a Monday morning. I’ve been known to accept a less-than-joyful day as the norm and wear my frustration like a permanent tattoo. I can see what I want, but too crippled to attain it. As much as we long to walk through the beautiful, we are often too content to sit — broken and lacking — and settle for the mundane life of the spiritually lame.  

That lame man sat at the gate, eyes cast downward, mumbling as he begged, passing time until he was carried home again. Same story, every day — a few coins in the can, a couple “excuse me” grunts as people tripped over him, a handful of pitied looks cast his way — just part of the daily grind of going nowhere. Peter and John, rather than simply stepping around him or ignoring his appeal, called to him, “Look at us.” Maybe Peter even raised his voice and called, “I said look at me when I’m talking to you!” A crippled man on the ground would have to look up and acknowledge such a charge. Then scripture says the man gave them his attention and expected to get something. Oh he was about to get something alright. A big something.

Go back to you and me, mothers sitting at the Beautiful Gate, begging for life to be amazing. It is Jesus who calls to us as we lament. Is this all there is to my life? I’m paralyzed with fear of how my kids will turn out.  I’m crippled with self-doubt and convinced I will always be fighting a losing battle. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll never be enough for my kids.

Look at Me, Jesus says to all the moms reading this. Look at Me when I’m talking to you. Expect it. You’ll find what you’re looking for. Believe Me. I am the redeemer of inadequacy. 

Therein lies the answer. Look at Him when He’s talking. Expect Him to be the Master of the Unexpected. He leads us to be strong mothers, wise mothers, competent mothers – but we don’t receive it until we intentionally look and fervently expect. Look at me when I’m talking to you. We use the command to signal our kids we are about to say something critically important.  Don’t miss what the author of parenthood has to say:

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, mom. You have no ability to change a child’s heart. Your rules, your preferences, your words — they change nothing independent of Me. You cannot do in the flesh, the work that is designed for the supernatural. Show Me to your kids. Trust Me. Expect. I am more than enough to heal the lame places in your parenting. While you sit at the Beautiful Gate of raising children and worry yourself crippled, I am calling to you to look at Me, and expect to receive. It’s time to dance your way through motherhood, right through the Beautiful.”
 Look at Him, moms. He is talking to us.
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