Mothers, Let your Tears Water the Seeds Planted
Monica
In my years in ministry, I have watched many a mother flood the altar with her tears. They plead, they weep, they groan with a broken heart over the lostness of their children.
This goes back to the garden, with Eve being told that her pain would be greatly increased in childbirth. This meant more than labor pains, but all of the pain involved in conceiving, birthing, and raising children. Hannah wept. Rachel wept. Naomi wept. Throughout Scripture, women weep both because they long for children and because they long for God’s blessing upon their children.
Augustine is the great spiritual giant of the fourth century. His writings transformed the church. He wrote several great works, but few have had a greater impact than his Confessions. In it, he gives a detailed account of his own conversion.
You need to read this book. Unlike most autobiographies, Augustine writes not primarily to his readers but to God Himself. From the first page you sense that these are the words of a man transformed by an encounter with the holiness of God. But honestly Augustine would not have become the giant he grew to be without the prayers of his mother.
Reflecting on those years, Augustine wrote, “For she wept for me before You more than mothers weep when lamenting their dead children.” Monica’s tears were not the tears of a mother mourning a corpse, but of a mother grieving the spiritual condition of her living son. When her heart was nearly broken by Augustine’s wandering, a bishop sought to comfort her with words that proved prophetic: “It cannot be that the son of these tears should perish.”
Monica is the kind of mother that I have ministered to on a great many occasions. You know your God loves you. You know God loves your child. You see every sin. You see the pain caused by their actions. Augustine writes openly and honestly as a broken, lustful, and prideful man. Yet time and time again he returns to his mother’s heart and concern for him. When he was twenty-nine and about to make his way to Rome, which he later realized would only lead him to even more sinful activity, his mother pleaded with him. Augustine recounts how he ultimately lied to her in order to give her the slip.
“I lied to my mother—yes, to that mother who wept for me—and thus escaped from her.”
Imagine the heartbreak. Monica spent the night praying while her son sailed away. Augustine believed he was escaping his mother’s influence. In reality, he was not escaping her prayers.
One of the benefits of spiritual biographies is that they give examples of how God works in the here and now. They speak about the reality of human suffering and divine sovereignty. Augustine was a great mind, but apart from the work of God he was utterly lost. His mother spent year after year, day after day, praying for her son, never fully aware of the work that God was doing on her behalf. She prayed, and God answered, as He always does, in His own time and in His own way.
If your son or daughter is a wandering prodigal, I want you to be encouraged. Your prayers are being heard by God. Don’t stop and don’t abandon your task. Pray, love, and share the grace of God with them as often as you can. As a Christian, let your love guide your actions. Model grace. Model humility. Ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness. Don’t compromise or celebrate the things of this world, but make it clear, firmly and lovingly, like the father of the prodigal son, that you stand watching, ready to run and embrace them the moment they turn back.
The world tells us that if someone is not respecting you or your peace, cut them off. The Word makes clear that we are not to enable or endorse sinful behavior, but neither are we to abandon our responsibilities. Love does not ignore sin, nor does it walk away from those entrusted to our care. Let us take responsibility for the ways we have fallen short as parents and plead with our great Savior to save our children.
Be like Monica and let your tears water the seeds of faith planted in your children.