In Honor of My Mom – Lillian Ferguson on Mother’s Day 2008


In the infinite wisdom of God,

He has filled all of life with types and shadows of spiritual truth.

In marriage,

His word makes clear,

there is to be found a most wonderful and detailed portrait of the love and bond between our Lord Jesus Christ and His Bride – the Church.

Which picture paves the way

for a no less stunning parallel to be drawn between Mothers themselves,

and the nature of God’s true Church.

It is in this figure,

given to us by God’s own hand

that I have learned much of Christ’s Church

In the life and ministry of my own Mother.

The Church is the place of birth.

Conceived in Her are the lives of the saints.

And in pain she brings her children forth

The product of His love for Her

And hers for Him.

It is a mystery.

To willingly endure such pain

For the joy of those yet unformed.

It is the pinnacle of faith.

So my Mother rejoiced

In the lives of we four,

In our mere birth,

Before we could ever love back, or give.

And so Christ’s Church.

She loves those

In whom Christ is not yet formed.

In hope and faith she births them

To eternal life in Christ.

The Church is the place of prayer.

None pleads so for little ones

As mothers.

None plead, and continues plead

As my own.

It is an infinite treasure.

To willingly worry and fret

Not in human futility

But before the throne of grace.

So my Mother prayed

and prays.

Her children stand, oft,

For no other reason than her intercessions.

And so Christ’s Church.

She pleads for her sons and daughters.

In every season.

In the darkest nights.

And is never silent for her own.

The Church is the place of mercy.

Forgiveness is in her bosom.

Un-exhausted.

Though tried to extremes.

She extends her hand ever.

It is a spectacle of grace.

To be offended

Over and over, and yet again

Still to say “it is well.”

To receive back from straying.

So my Mother pours mercy.

Though wounded.

Though unhonored.

I never fear.

I can come home.

And so Christ’s Church.

Though seven times in one day.

Forgiveness waits for each

In anticipation

Delighted to give Her gift.

The Church is the place of acceptance.

She always owns Her children.

Though out of the Way.

Though rebellious.

Though in deepest grief.

It is beyond all earthly reason.

To love the unlovely.

To embrace the odious.

To kiss the lips that cursed.

To say “you are mine”.

So my Mother receives me.

When embarrassed

When wishing me better

When fallen, and soiled

I am still her child.

And so Christ’s Church.

Cannot disown

Any born of grace

And willingly shares Her name

With many who shame it still

These are lessons learned.

Things I learned at home

In a life lived for Christ

Portraying Christ’s desire

Exposed to the Divine

In the drudgery of the daily.

Not taught by precept

Lived in love, and

Loved through this life.

Taught in the doing.

Churched by Mothering.

Brought to Christ as She went

Day by day

Seeing Her map

Between two leather covers.

Drinking the milk of what She

had fed her own soul upon.

Birthed, Interceded for, Mercied, And Received

Churched at home

That Church might be my home.

By God’s gift in grace – My Mother.

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