STXWM Blog

Last year, I spent Mother’s Day in Italy. That weekend, we hiked through the Italian Alps to the Church in the Cliff (Corona della Madonna). That particular church is perched on the side of a mountain, 1200 feet from the top and 1200 feet from the valley below.

We parked at the peak and made our descent through beautiful and misty woods. The steep path to the church was adorned with life-size stations of the cross: the Passion of the Christ played out in fourteen bronze scenes; culminating in the resurrection and ascension. Every step was a sermon: the mountain air burst through my lungs, reminded me I was alive and it was a gift. The culminating stations assured me; my Savior was with me every step of the way. And the church carved into the cliff overhang convinced me: my most secure life was nestled in Him.

“I love You, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of salvation, my stronghold.” (Psalm 18:2 NIV)

I had been drawn to the Church in the Cliff since I first learned of it. My Italian friend had sent a list of potential outings and upon googling, I was immediately engrossed. I had to see it firsthand; a stone tabernacle hewn into the side of a mountain. Monks had built the structure in 1530, and it remains accessible only by a dizzying and difficult path. It was an hour’s hard hike from the village above, we made most of the downward trek in silence.

At last, we ascended the last stone stair (a replica of the staircase into Pilate’s palace). When we crossed the threshold, I was accosted by the bronze and marble image on the altar. Mary, the mother, cradled her fallen Son, the Savior of the world. It was a replica of the Pieta, a famous work by Michelangelo and familiar to my heart: I did a pen and ink version in high school. But the assault was the addition of a golden crown upon Mary’s head. Jesus, fallen. Mary, exalted.

I sunk into a pew to catch my breath and consider the implications. Most Catholics regard Mary as sinless, but scripture assures us of her humanity and her need for a Savior. (See Luke 1:47, Mark 3:20, John 2:4, Romans 3:23) To come such a long way to find such an altar was a little shocking to my system. And still, I knew I was meant to make that trek.

I sat for a moment in that stone sanctuary and considered the imagery. Worship lyrics came to me: “For You Wear the Victor’s Crown.” The crown belongs to the King, not the mother.

The Madonna in the stone church made me think of motherhood. So often we crown mom as the hero of the home: the one who holds the family together and sacrifices herself on the altar of her children. While it is right to honor mom, but we cannot lose sight of the true champion in every home: Jesus is the strength a good mother must be girded in. Mothering apart from His presence is frustrating and futile. Without Him, we are weak and willful. He hones us and perfects us through the process of motherhood.

“But women will be saved through childbearing – if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.” (1 Timothy 2:15 NIV)

We require a divine assist in the crucible of motherhood. When we cry out, He comforts. Where we lack, He leads. We fail, He furthers His purposes. This cooperation over a lifetime of parenting produces sanctification: we are made more like Him.

While the altar in the Cliff Church sat uneasy in my mind, I was reminded of still another sanctuary amid our Italian tour. There was a church in Venice that we had visited and its imagery is still stuck in my imagination: Mary struck by an arrow from an angel. I believe it was an artist’s interpretation of Simon’s word to Jesus’ mother in Luke 2. It felt like a far more accurate portrait of motherhood.

“And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” (Luke 2:35 NIV)

Motherhood is not a crown on the brow, but an arrow in the chest. We wrestle with our will and our flesh as we raise up and let go. In this ongoing piercing, we endlessly require God’s presence. We mother best when we rely on Him most.

“Many women do notable things, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:29-30 NIV)

The wisest king in the history of humanity reminds mommas everywhere: the most notable thing a mother can do is fear the Lord. Holy fear keeps the crown from falling on our own head and Christ receives the glory He is due.

Lord, amidst this journey of motherhood, keep our eyes and hearts fixed above. You alone wear the crown. Keep us breathing even as arrows pierce. Sanctify us as we continue to lean in for strength. Amen.