It’s easy!

One of the reasons children are so likable is their frankness. They say what they’re thinking without filtering it first and are blunt in their comments. This morning Skylar, Micah and I were “working” in the basement on 3 separate “projects” when Skylar asked if she could draw on the white board.

“Sure,” I said, reaching for the pail of special markers. “Why don’t you draw your family,” I said, heading back to my project. As Skylar drew, she sang original little ditties about mommy, daddy, Micah and herself. When she drew a self-portrait, she added stripes above her head with a pink splotch beneath them.

Glancing over from my task I said, “What are those lines?”

“It’s raining on me,” she said, “and that’s my umbrella,” pointing to the pink item.

I complimented her on her artwork, then went back to what I was doing. When she said, “Now I’ll draw God,” I couldn’t resist taking another peek. First she made a big, round head, adding a yellow blob on top.

“What’s that yellow thing?” I said.

“A crown.”

“Oh, I thought it might be an umbrella,” I said, since the thing she drew over her own head looked much like the one over God’s.

But she had a ready answer. Laughing, she said, “Oh, it never rains on God, silly Midgee.”

She drew a wide smile on the face. “God is always happy,” she said. Then pausing, she added, “…unless Micah does bad things.”

And so goes the theology of a 3 year old, a theology God loves and accepts. She had all her facts right:

  • God is the ruler over everything.
  • Nothing bad happens to God, since he’s in charge.
  • God is always happy, except when people do bad things.

And that was Skylar’s concise, concrete, accurate synopsis of who God is. Easy to understand, easy to accept. No wonder God tells us to think like children.

We adults tend to complicate him, adding our own ideas to the little we really know. Much of who he is can’t be bent to comply with logic, so we weave a web of probabilities around him, humanizing him into something he’s not.

Our motive is good: we want to know him better. But the results stray from reality. And that’s the fascinating thing about children. They take what they’ve been told about God, accept it as truth, and have no urge to debunk it, debate it, degrade it or embellish it.

And although I would never attempt to sketch God, for Skylar it was easy.

“Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty, for all that is in the heavens and in the earth is yours. Yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and you are exalted as head above all.” (1 Chronicles 29:11)

Overloaded

Today while running errands I was waiting at a light when a spectacular semi-truck turned in front of me. It had more tires than I’d ever seen on one vehicle, all doubles, 4 to an axle except on the cab. As it drove past, I counted: 36 wheels.

All I could think of was how difficult it must be to keep that many tires in good shape simultaneously. Are they wearing properly and balanced correctly? Are their lug nuts snug? Rotating tires must be a nightmare similar to playing Mancala with game pieces too heavy to lift.

Why so many wheels?  The answer is, tons of weight inside.

It made me think of all the excess weight we carry, not in pounds but in burdens. Trouble comes when we try to carry too much on only 2 wheels.

This morning in Bible study we were in Exodus, reading how Moses was trying to lead a million obstreperous people through miserable circumstances. He was doing the best he could, but it wasn’t good enough. He didn’t have enough wheels to hold up his heavy load, and it was ruining him.

God saw the problem and brought Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, to the massive Israelite camp at exactly the right time. In learning how burdened Moses was he said, “The work is too heavy for you; you cannot handle it alone.” (Exodus 18:18)

So God planted a fresh idea in Jethro’s mind, and Jethro passed it along to Moses. The heavy weight was quickly redistributed to helper-judges, which gave Moses the 36 wheels he needed to continue moving the massive group forward.

Years later he again found himself weighed down by the impossible burden of his role. The people were crushing him with their complaints, so once again he went to God. “I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me.” (Numbers 11:14) It was time for a new set of tires. God provided them again in the form of many able helpers, and Moses’ load was lifted.

What about our 21st century loads? More often than not we take on impossible weight, dragging under the heavy burden while trying to give the impression we’re living feather-light. When others see us bent beneath our loads and ask if they can help, we say, ”No thanks,” not wanting to add to their loads. But as we learned in Bible study this morning, if we accept the help of others, a blessing comes to them as well as to us.

Moses modeled what to do when we’re overloaded. Step 1: ask God to lighten it up. Step 2: listen for how. We’re to avoid the extremes of either asking no one, or asking many of the wrong ones, because our best burden-lifter will always be God.

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.” (Psalm 68:19)

Deadly Words

I wonder if I’ll ever again hear the word “September” and not link it with the word “cancer.” Today is the two year mark of that dreadful day when Nate and I sat in front of a somber medical team receiving a death sentence.

The evening before, September 21, we’d had a quiet dinner and talked about our 40th anniversary coming in 2 months. We agreed Nate’s sore back would feel much better by then and decided a 3 hour drive to Greenfield Village would be realistic and fun. We could stay at a bed and breakfast and wander through the museums without an agenda.

Before bed that night we got caught up on bills, and then Nate said, “Since my stomach’s been bothering me, maybe something else is wrong besides my back. At least with the pre-op physical, we’re catching it early.”

I wrote in my journal, “I’m really nervous about tomorrow. Strengthen us, Lord, for whatever’s coming.”

On the morning of the 22nd Nate woke with bad abdominal pain but left the house before 6:00 am as always, taking the South Shore Line to Chicago’s Loop. Fear crept into my journal words that morning: “I’m so glad all of this is under your control, Lord. I know you won’t leave us alone.”

I picked Nate up at 2:30 on the corner of Monroe and Wabash near his office, and we threaded our way across town to Rush Medical Center. When we stepped off the elevator, the stainless steel sign on the opposite wall said, “Oncology.” I looked at Nate who said, “It’s just because they have a nice conference room on this floor.” But my hands started shaking.

In the waiting room we talked, holding back the fear something very bad was about to happen. There were precious few facts: Nate needed surgery on his spine; the pre-op physical included red flags, prompting tests; a scan showed a mysterious mass; doctors stressed a meeting a.s.a.p. to discuss what they’d found; we braced for the words “bleeding ulcer.”

As we waited, Nate pulled out his Post-its and read his notes. “I hope this meeting doesn’t take long,” he said. “I’ve got a jam-packed afternoon at work.”

The news turned out to be a thousand times worse than we’d anticipated, and Nate didn’t live to see Greenfield Village on our anniversary. But God lavishly answered my prayer for strength, and as promised, never once left us alone.

My temptation now is to think, “We’re finally adjusting, and all of us are healing. Surely the road ahead will be smooth.” But of course no one has promised that, especially not God. What he has promised is continued strength to endure, along with his reassuring presence, no matter what comes.

Unlike the deadly words announcing cancer, God’s words are always full of life.

“May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” (2 Corinthians 13:14)