Motherhood: an Exhibition
Motherhood: an Exhibition
Exodus 2:2-3
The woman conceived and bore a son, and when she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took for him a basket made of bulrushes and daubed it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child in it and placed it among the reeds by the river bank.
If there’s a museum in heaven where notable handiworks from the lives of the saints are eternally displayed, what exhibits would you expect to see there, friend? I imagine there’s an entire section devoted to Solomon’s temple, with its cedar beams covered in solid gold, and with that original hand sewn curtain that once outlined the holy of holies, forever torn in two. Up from there, I bet there’s an entire stadium-sized room for Noah’s ark, with each hand-hewn timber and each hand-threaded adjoining rope and each hand-spun mast shown off for their craftsmanship. Then, along the corridors, you’d find a glass for Jacob’s coat of many colors, frayed and covered in blood, but still held together by the cords of love that wove it. And, next to that, you’d see David’s hand-made sling, flanked by an ornate display of taxidermy for all the grizzlies and lions and wolves he killed in protection of his sheep, topped off by a large mural on the ceiling of his famous victory over Goliath. But somewhere along those walls, without question, you’d find a basket woven from hand-picked bulrushes and covered in pitch, from an anonymous Hebrew mother who was too strong of will and too good of heart to let her little boy go without a fight. It’s an exhibit of the kind of faith that moves mountains: the kind of self-sacrificing love that parts oceans: the kind of craftsmanship that God holds dearest.
How incredible to think that as Moses’ mother secretively weaves this basket in the shadows, doing her best to preserve this precious life placed in her care, she has no idea that her singular act of faith will lead to the deliverance of millions. So you never know, friend: those meals you cook and those clothes you sew and those notes you write today in service of others might mean a lot more than you think. If there really is a museum of faith in heaven, your handiworks will be there too!