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Years ago, when we needed to name our homeschool for an official document, my husband and I instantly fell upon a title that seemed to sum up exactly why we were doing what we were doing: Great Commission Academy.
And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” —Matthew 18-20
Our purpose? Make disciples. Teach them. And send them out to do the same.
So why is it sometimes so hard to watch them do exactly what we’ve prayed they’d do all along?
I was the crazy mother who read them the stories of George Müller, and Nate Saint. I’m the one showed them Inn of the Sixth Happiness, and Chariots of Fire. It was me who was constantly adding lesson plans from Kids of Courage to our homeschool. I’m the one who sent them to trek to unreached villages in rural Nepal, who watched their passports rack up stamps in Mexico, in South Korea, in Qatar.
I’m the one who moved them to Asia.
So why, when they hear God’s voice calling them to be doers of the Word and not just hearers (James 1:22), do I feel wistful for my loss, for my comfort? Why do I think of the empty space in my heart that they won’t be here to fill if they’re off sharing the Gospel instead of laughing at my dining room table?
Because I’m human. I’m human, and yes, the heart is deceitful above all things (Jeremiah 17:9).
I’ve had two separate conversations in recent days with mothers struggling with this same reality. We raised children to become independent adults. And along the way, we shared our conviction: follow the Lord, go where He calls you, be bold in your faith.
And now they’re doing it, and our hands are open. Our hands are open, and our hearts are torn between the joy that comes with knowing that the person God entrusted to you for nurture has been fully released back to Him and the fear that comes with knowing that He is God, and His vision of our child’s purpose may involve them struggling financially, or living in another state, or stepping into a career we wouldn’t have chosen for them.
This summer, my home will feel somewhat empty as several of my older children follow God’s lead to places where He would have them go. They will miss s’mores around our fire pit, harvesting a billion cucumbers as evening comes on and the heat of the day finally breaks, and our weekly community dinners here at the farm. They will have experiences where they will be used to speak the Name of Jesus to unbelievers, and where they will be forced to rely on Him without the buffer of knowing Mom and Dad are in the same closed country. They will be faced with physical challenges, and spiritual ones.
They will do it all, for the first time, alone.
I will miss them. (What a hollow word—”miss”— when one applies it to one’s own children!) I will long for their return, and I will feel their absence in every moment where they’ve always been. But I will also rejoice, knowing that Great Commission Academy is fulfilling its purpose. The Gospel is being preached, here and abroad. And Jesus is with them, even unto the end of the age. While the mothering part of me wishes in some small way that that age ended in my living room, with tea and shortbread, and my husband’s voice narrating a read-aloud to us all… it doesn’t. It shouldn’t.
They have been sent. And now… they go.