A Thousand Opportunities: Our Call to Serve

“Well, if I ever get a tattoo, I know what it would be…”

I say this to my husband as I sit on our living room couch—sleep deprived and baby-blued—two weeks after giving birth to our firstborn son.

“You want a tattoo now?”

“No…but if I did, this is what it would be—because I need to be reminded of it 24/7.”

“Well, what is it?”

“1,000 opportunities.”

Here’s the back story…

The week leading up to our son’s birth, I listened to a podcast by John Mark Comer. It was all about self-denial in an age of self-fulfillment.

Near the end of the podcast, he says something profound—and might I say…painfully selfless. He says:

“In the coming week, there are a thousand opportunities to deny yourself. A thousand chances to die. If you’re a parent, you have thousands of chances to die in the coming week. If you have a husband or a wife, you have a thousand chances to die. If you have a roommate, you have a thousand chances to die. If you know another human being, you have chances to die. In the coming week, you have so many opportunities to deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Jesus. And following Jesus is about those moments where you have that decision to make between the flesh and the Spirit.”

As a first-time mom, this exhortation couldn’t be more relatable with the season I’m in.

As soon as I gave birth to our little seven-pound human, his needs immediately came before my own. They had to. He needed to eat every 2.5 to 3 hours. Then his poopy diaper needed to be changed. And then he needed to be burped or rocked or swaddled.

Never have I had to be more strategic in accomplishing my own basic needs each day: shower, brush teeth (and hair), drink coffee, eat, pee, hydrate.

These were all things I didn’t think twice about a month ago. But now? I have to deny myself—and my beloved morning routine—and put my baby first.

Is it hard? Absolutely. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

In those first couple of weeks, I felt like a 24-hour milk factory. I wondered if I’d ever sleep 8 consecutive hours again in my life. I missed snuggling on the couch with my husband after a long day.

But this isn’t something to throw a pity party about. It’s what Jesus called us to do. And surprisingly, it’s what Jesus did himself: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

If the King of Kings denied himself, took up his cross, and humbly served those around him, I have no excuse.

But here’s where it can get even tougher (at least for me)…

We’re called to serve others with a grateful and cheerful heart.

This means no complaining. No moping around and feeling sorry for yourself. AKA…no victim mindset.

Paul tells us in Philippians to “do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation” (Philippians 2:14-15).

So here I am, a 28-year-old girl with a 4-week-old baby boy, trying (and oftentimes failing) to put my selfish desires aside and serve my husband and baby the very best that I can.

Right now, this looks a lot like being a milk factory—and rejoicing in the fact that I can nurture my baby like that. It looks like stopping midway through emptying the dishwasher to tend to my baby’s cries—and rejoicing in the fact that he can communicate with us like that. It looks like being fully present when my husband tells me how his day was—even when I’m downright exhausted.

This is my new norm, and I’m here for it. And praise Jesus for the Holy Spirit, because I couldn’t get through a single hour without the strength and patience He provides.

So here’s to motherhood…the most sanctifying, gospel-saturated journey I’ve ever embarked upon.