Once God has spoken, twice I have heard this:
That power belongs to the Lord, and that to You, O Lord, belongs steadfast love. For You will render to a man according to his work. (Vs. 11-12)
I was at the mall this summer with Heather and my grandsons, Nicholas and Alexander. Heather wanted to find a new bathing suit, and she and I were picking through the desultory tops and bottoms trying to match them up while the boys were....well, being boys. Running beneath the rounds of clothing nearby, making silly faces in the Macy's full length mirrors that are hideously planted to allow us to see cellulite we had no idea was hanging from our upper arms (we meaning me), and playing chase. I don't know what it is about malls that make kids turn into such buggers. Heather had a minor meltdown. So, I took the boys outside, one little hand in each of mine, into the heat with me to sit on a concrete bench and ponder what they had done.
"We are just going to sit here on this bench and think about why your mommy got so frustrated," I began. "Any ideas?"
"We were being bad." Tentative response from Nicholas.
"Yeah," added Alexander. "We didn't do what she told us to."
"Do you think she deserved to be able to shop for a few minutes without having to round you up every two seconds?" I asked.
"Yes." From both of them.
"She does so much for you all the time." I continued, not wanting to shame them so much as to make them understand. "Wouldn't being obedient in the store be a good way to show her how much you care about her?"
"Yes." From both of them.
Then Nicholas hit it on the head. "We need to tell her we are sorry."
"Well, before we do that," I said, "let's go get you some t-shirts." They had gotten tar on the new ones they had worn to California. Sometimes the beach kelp has tar hidden in its mass.
"Yes!" Alexander is a clothes horse.
Heather had plenty of time to choose the right swimsuit and the boys and I found super-hero shirts. We met up in the childrens' department.
"Mommy," said Nicholas and Alexander as they ran to her. "We are really sorry for the way we acted."
Ironically, there were two other "mommies" trying desperately to corral their kids who were running under clothing rounds and yelling at each other from across the store. No one seemed to notice this in the apology process, but I had been watching these children the whole time the boys looked for shirts. It's a disease, really. But every mother sees it as a reflection of her parenting. Obedient children are just such an incredible blessing, right? And obedience is a matter of the heart. Of understanding how much the one we obey loves and cares for us.
If we know Christ, we have a Father who has all the power. Period. Over everything. And He wields that power in unconditional, never-ending love. The perfect parent. Our Father looks at the heart of what we do. Desires our compliance with His demands out of a heart willing to please Him. One that reciprocates His love and shows that by doing what He asks of us. God is powerful enough to crush us and make us do His bidding. But power without love is tyranny. And God doesn't want our obedience to be beaten out of us but surrendered to His benevolence.
What my grandsons quickly understood was the heart of their mother. What I no less understood was their love for her. As soon as they saw their disobedience from her perspective, they immediately repented. Because they love her so much. They weren't in fear of being beaten because they had acted incorrectly, but they were crushed that their mommy might be a little ashamed of their behavior. That made them a little ashamed, too.
I was up in the night last night feeling a little ashamed of my behavior the other day. I believe God brought it to my mind in gentle reprimand. Though I had apologized and made it right with the person I had inadvertently offended, I needed to make it right with my Father, too. He expects more of me, given the years I have been His kid. I want to look like an adult now. One who takes long walks with my Father to discuss more pressing things than how stupid something I said was. I want my Father to take my maturity seriously. Why? Because I love Him so much. Want Him to be proud of me. And I don't want to be concerned about the day when He rewards me for my works because I want the ones that stand up to my God's scrutiny to have all begun in Him. I have a long way to go. But once or twice I have heard this: All power belongs to my God, and to my God belongs steadfast love. My Father will grow me up yet.
That power belongs to the Lord, and that to You, O Lord, belongs steadfast love. For You will render to a man according to his work. (Vs. 11-12)
I was at the mall this summer with Heather and my grandsons, Nicholas and Alexander. Heather wanted to find a new bathing suit, and she and I were picking through the desultory tops and bottoms trying to match them up while the boys were....well, being boys. Running beneath the rounds of clothing nearby, making silly faces in the Macy's full length mirrors that are hideously planted to allow us to see cellulite we had no idea was hanging from our upper arms (we meaning me), and playing chase. I don't know what it is about malls that make kids turn into such buggers. Heather had a minor meltdown. So, I took the boys outside, one little hand in each of mine, into the heat with me to sit on a concrete bench and ponder what they had done.
"We are just going to sit here on this bench and think about why your mommy got so frustrated," I began. "Any ideas?"
"We were being bad." Tentative response from Nicholas.
"Yeah," added Alexander. "We didn't do what she told us to."
"Do you think she deserved to be able to shop for a few minutes without having to round you up every two seconds?" I asked.
"Yes." From both of them.
"She does so much for you all the time." I continued, not wanting to shame them so much as to make them understand. "Wouldn't being obedient in the store be a good way to show her how much you care about her?"
"Yes." From both of them.
Then Nicholas hit it on the head. "We need to tell her we are sorry."
"Well, before we do that," I said, "let's go get you some t-shirts." They had gotten tar on the new ones they had worn to California. Sometimes the beach kelp has tar hidden in its mass.
"Yes!" Alexander is a clothes horse.
Heather had plenty of time to choose the right swimsuit and the boys and I found super-hero shirts. We met up in the childrens' department.
"Mommy," said Nicholas and Alexander as they ran to her. "We are really sorry for the way we acted."
Ironically, there were two other "mommies" trying desperately to corral their kids who were running under clothing rounds and yelling at each other from across the store. No one seemed to notice this in the apology process, but I had been watching these children the whole time the boys looked for shirts. It's a disease, really. But every mother sees it as a reflection of her parenting. Obedient children are just such an incredible blessing, right? And obedience is a matter of the heart. Of understanding how much the one we obey loves and cares for us.
If we know Christ, we have a Father who has all the power. Period. Over everything. And He wields that power in unconditional, never-ending love. The perfect parent. Our Father looks at the heart of what we do. Desires our compliance with His demands out of a heart willing to please Him. One that reciprocates His love and shows that by doing what He asks of us. God is powerful enough to crush us and make us do His bidding. But power without love is tyranny. And God doesn't want our obedience to be beaten out of us but surrendered to His benevolence.
What my grandsons quickly understood was the heart of their mother. What I no less understood was their love for her. As soon as they saw their disobedience from her perspective, they immediately repented. Because they love her so much. They weren't in fear of being beaten because they had acted incorrectly, but they were crushed that their mommy might be a little ashamed of their behavior. That made them a little ashamed, too.
I was up in the night last night feeling a little ashamed of my behavior the other day. I believe God brought it to my mind in gentle reprimand. Though I had apologized and made it right with the person I had inadvertently offended, I needed to make it right with my Father, too. He expects more of me, given the years I have been His kid. I want to look like an adult now. One who takes long walks with my Father to discuss more pressing things than how stupid something I said was. I want my Father to take my maturity seriously. Why? Because I love Him so much. Want Him to be proud of me. And I don't want to be concerned about the day when He rewards me for my works because I want the ones that stand up to my God's scrutiny to have all begun in Him. I have a long way to go. But once or twice I have heard this: All power belongs to my God, and to my God belongs steadfast love. My Father will grow me up yet.
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