“And Enoch walked with God after he had begotten Methuselah three hundred years, and he begot more sons and daughters. And all the days of Enoch were three hundred sixty-five years. And Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.” (Genesis 5:22-24)
I’ve been mulling over these verses for the past couple of weeks and within me there is surely an aspiration to be a person like Enoch who walked with God until the day God took him. To walk with someone means you have an intimate relationship with him and you go where he goes and you do what he does. In my experience, it’s mostly God walking with me and not the other way around; I take the lead and expect God to follow. But if we are to be those who walk with God, we need to do things according to His way and His leading. This is the way Enoch lived everyday for three hundred years.
I find it very telling that the Bible would specifically say that Enoch walked with God after he had begotten Methuselah. I don’t know how he lived before he became a parent, but the Word seems to imply that his walk with God commenced when his son was born. Maybe before kids Enoch was an independent man who didn’t think he needed God that much. Maybe for those first sixty-five years it was God walking with him. Whatever the case, we know that for the three hundred years that he was a parent, not just to Methuselah but to many other sons and daughters, he followed God’s lead and not his own.
I’m not sure if my walk has changed that much after becoming a mom, but I do know for certain that being given charge of little human beings has impelled me to need the Lord in a way that nothing has. Parenthood has brought out all that’s sweet and maternal in me, and it has also brought out the ugly side of me that I never knew was there. Sometimes I’m taken aback by the anger that can be unleashed from me by such trivial things as a toddler’s refusal to put on a jacket. I’m amazed that I can go from a sweet, loving mom one second to Cruella de Vil the next. Little things can set me off, a whiny voice, a four-year old’s defiant no to a request…my heart beat increases, my eyes start to dilate and I can feel the green hulk of anger coming out and sometimes there’s nothing I can do to keep back the yelling and the harsh words. (To all the parents out there, please please tell me that I’m not the only one who suffers from this Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde parent syndrome.)
This morning before school everything was fine until CC refused to put on his jacket. I had an outburst and both of us stormed out of the house mad. We waited outside for his ride in silence. Then the Lord reminded me that I had told CC last night before he went to bed that whenever we do something wrong, we should apologize right away. So before his ride came, I knelt down to his level, looked him in the eyes and told him mommy was very very sorry for getting angry and I asked for his forgiveness. Little kids are sometimes like the Lord in how quick they are to forgive and forget. I’m glad the last words he heard from me this morning before going to school was “I’m sorry and I love you,” and not the words of anger that I wish I could somehow have unsaid.
Having had so many failures, now I realize there’s something fundamentally not right in my being and the only hope for me and my kids is for me to experience the saving life of Christ. I need mercy, I need the blood, and I desperately need to walk with God in my life as a mother.