• Home
  • Blog
  • About
  • Contact
  • Book
    • Email
    • Facebook
    • Instagram
    • Pinterest
    • Twitter

Brittany L. Bergman

Savoring motherhood, building marriage, and living simply

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

On the Rocks

May 16 17 Comments

The evening shadows are deepening around me, the sky spinning blue into gold as we make our final lap around the dog park. The early spring air is rapidly losing warmth as the sun dips lower, and I’m desperate to stay in the light, to be led and warmed by the day’s final rays.

Selah starts to get antsy in her stroller, her cries making it clear that she wants to get out and walk. We have a lot of ground to cover before we’re back at the car, and I don’t love waiting for her little legs to keep up. But I know she will keep crying if I continue on with her strapped into the stroller, so once we’re away from other dogs, I unbuckle her and let her down.

Not more than two steps later, Selah crouches to pick up a rock. She is constantly collecting little treasures in her hands, and rocks are her favorite of all. She likes to study each one intently, turning it over in her fingers, pressing its sharp edges against her baby-soft skin.

She picks up one and then two and then three, and as she reaches to pick up a fourth, I think She can’t possibly hold another one. But then she manages to do it—she gets her tiny hands around a fourth and a fifth stone, and then she jams a sixth pebble into a tiny gap.

Soon both of her hands are filled with rocks, more than I would have guessed she could possibly hold. Satisfied for the moment, she continues walking. She’s breathing excitedly, relishing her independence and beaming with pride over the work she’s done.

A few seconds later, she stops to pick up yet another stone, not unlike the ones she’s already holding. As she tries to fit just this one more, they all come tumbling down, lost in the sea of millions of other rocks on the crushed-gravel path.

Dan and I wait a few minutes as she attempts to collect them again, but she can’t find them all, and even if she could, they wouldn’t fit back together in the same way. We try to cajole her to move on, but she won’t be deterred. She wants every single one of those rocks she lost, each one a precious treasure. Eventually I distract her so we can continue, but then she stops again a few paces later to do the same thing: She tries to pick up just one more rock, again. They all tumble out, again. We wait for her, again. This repeats endlessly—after a few content steps, she takes her eyes off the view and tries to cram more stuff into her dusty hands.

***

As I turn this memory over in my mind, studying it, pressing into its edges, I realize it’s possibly the most important spiritual lesson I’ve ever learned.

I’ve been picking up rock after rock after rock throughout my church journey. My faith, which started out as Jesus, just give me Jesus, has become Jesus, plus Evangelicalism, plus quiet times, plus checklists, plus small groups, plus self-righteousness, plus piety and purity and politics.

Well-meaning people have told me that Jesus plus anything is not the true gospel, but all the while, they have shoved more rocks into my hands without giving me a chance to study them, really grasp them, and now I can’t carry them all. I can’t squeeze in even one more pebble. So I’m opening my hands and dropping all the rocks, letting every last one fall to the ground, and I’m running in search of the Rock, the Living Christ.

I’m not looking down for more rocks to pick up, and instead I’m looking ahead to the horizon, to the sun, to the Kingdom that Jesus is actually establishing on earth as it is in heaven. I’m whispering Your Kingdom come over and over with every step, with every breath. I’m longing for Communion with every crunch, crunch of the gravel under my feet.

I don’t totally understand Jesus’ vision for the Kingdom and how to bring it about, but I do know I’d pick his vision over man’s every single time. What if his vision for the Kingdom is far greater than the American church’s vision for our government? What if his vision is infinitely better than the one we’ve constructed for ourselves? What if, to paraphrase C. S. Lewis, we’ve been collecting rocks to top off our mud pies, but all this time we’ve been missing out on the sand, the sunshine, and the sea?

What if all we need to do is hold out our dusty, empty hands?

What if #Jesus' vision for the kingdom is infinitely better than the one we’ve constructed for ourselves? Click To Tweet What if all we need to do is hold our dusty, empty hands out to God? Click To Tweet

Share the love:

  • Share
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)

Related

Filed Under: Faith Tagged With: adventure, Creation, doubt, experiences, faith, freedom, God, Jesus

« The Way She Mothered Me
Picture Perfect »




I'm so glad you're here. This space is all about encouraging women to live simply and intentionally, savor motherhood, choose gratitude, and find sacredness in the everyday moments. I hope you'll grab your cuppa choice and stay a while. I'd love to get to know you.
  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter
Do you want to be more intentional about how you mother and how you care for yourself?
Subscribe today for encouragement and support!


brittanylbergman

Brittany L. Bergman
The last day of school hit different this year. 💔 My tears at kindergarten graduation were not about how my first baby is growing up too fast. They were tears of gratitude that she’s growing up at all—something that should not feel spectacular, but does.

Swipe for some first day/last day comparisons and an outtake that I adore. 💜
There was a huge, complete rainbow outside Eamon’s bedroom window after his birthday party, and I can’t think of a better celestial celebration for our rainbow baby/big boy. 🌈
Our little Eamon baby is 3! 🎉 Though he will be Our little Eamon baby is 3! 🎉 Though he will be the first to tell you that he is not a baby—he is Eamon Boy, and he is a big kid.

Eamon is sweet and wild and silly and will do anything for a laugh, instantly charming everyone he meets. He is just as likely to tackle you as he is to request a hug and a kiss.

Eamon talks all the time and stretches out the last word of every sentence like it’s a question, but he also loves to communicate with roars and growls. No surface or object is safe around him, as he climbs and jumps off everything and will declare anything from a pillow to a plate his “rock” and throw it like he’s an Earth Giant in Frozen (we’re working on it).

He is obsessed with Dan, smitten with Selah, and thinks I’m just okay, at best—but he is my best buddy if the other two are unavailable.

This past year, Eamon went to Six Flags, Lake Geneva, and Disney World, and he has mastered his balance bike. Basically, he always wants to go fast and/or get as close to flying as possible.

Eamon, you are pure joy and delight, the brightest ray of sunshine, and the dreamiest rainbow baby. Happy birthday, my sweet boy! ☀️🌈💜
Or, “What does it say about me that the first po Or, “What does it say about me that the first poem I’ve written in a year is a list of things that make up my personal hell and I actually had to cut this down because I had so many/too many thoughts on the topic?” It’s fine, everything is fine.
This year was absolutely brutal. It also facilitat This year was absolutely brutal. It also facilitated some of the best decisions of my life, many born out of deep pain. Starting a new job, because the old one no longer fit. Getting vaccinated, to protect myself and others as we muddle through another pandemic year. All but quitting writing and social media, because I simply didn’t want to do it anymore. Most importantly, starting on Zoloft, because I needed it desperately. Those tiny blue pills quite literally saved my life.

The first half of 2021 was one of my darkest seasons, and the second half—thanks to modern medicine and my own intuition and the possibility of remote work, thanks to Selah starting kindergarten and me taking care of myself and being able to look at my kids and truly delight in them for the first time in a long time—was one of my happiest ever.

Holding both halves tenderly as we cross this next threshold. 💜
Selah Marie is 6! She started kindergarten this ye Selah Marie is 6! She started kindergarten this year and firmly entered world of big kids. Her confidence in every area has skyrocketed, from climbing her new playground to sounding out words to talking to new friends. She blows us away every day with her kind heart, generous spirit, and innate sense of empathy. She is tenderhearted, curious, affectionate, and hard to impress, and we adore her more every day. Happy birthday, Selah! 🧁 🎉 💜
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Disclaimer

Brittany L Bergman is a for-profit blog. Any company that I collaborate with is chosen by me and fits the theme and readership of my blog. At times, posts may contain affiliate links or sponsored content, which is never at any charge to you.

Archives

Copyright Brittany L Bergman © 2022
Blog Design + Development by Grace + Vine Studios

This website uses cookies to provide you with the best browsing experience.

Find out more or adjust your settings.

Brittany L. Bergman
Powered by  GDPR Cookie Compliance
Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognizing you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.

You can adjust all of your cookie settings by navigating the tabs on the left hand side.

Strictly Necessary Cookies

Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.

If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.