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)

Passion Gone Wrong

My grandson Micah Nathan is obsessed with wheels. I remember our 4 boys feeling the same way, flattening themselves to the floor to get a road’s eye view of tiny toy wheels. Maybe it’s in boy-DNA.

Micah has strong opinions about each miniature vehicle at my house, even at only 22 months. His favorite is a tiny bike-like motorcycle, followed by a plastic dump truck. He assigns different cars to different people. “This is Mommy’s car. This is Daddy’s.”

But yesterday we saw that even a toddler can take things too far. Linni and I were chatting when Micah approached with a tiny wheel in his pudgy hand, which must have come off one of the small cars. With his limited language he tried to share his thoughts, but before we could figure them out, he popped the wheel into his mouth, gave a few chews, and swallowed it.

Wheels are Micah’s passion.

All of us are passionate about something and are usually willing to sacrifice something else to pursue it. For example, I’d rather write than sleep or eat. Someone else might be passionate about music or cooking or reading or any other worthwhile pursuit. It’s all based on what bents and abilities we have and on the way God wires us.

But in thinking about our passions, we might ask ourselves several questions:

  • How far am I willing to go for the sake of my passion?
  • Is every passion worth pursuing?
  • What if my passion isn’t positive?

Scripture makes reference to passions gone wrong, describing them as the “passionate desires and inclinations of our sinful nature.” God wasn’t the one who wired those into us; we have to take the blame ourselves.

So what are the passions of a sinful nature? Name any sin, and that’s what it is. Whatever sins we can’t route out of our lives are passions gone wrong. God instructs us to “nail them to his cross.” In other words, we’re to exercise control through Christ’s power as our Savior. He offers that, but it’s up to us to take advantage.

We might say, “But there’s nothing wrong with my passion for [fill-in-the-blank].” God says unless all of our passions are pulled out from under our control and put under his, they’re on the wrong side of the passion-ledger. Since he knows we’re all pretty good at taking things to extremes, even good things, he promises to help us with passion-control by providing his grace and strength as needed to get the job done. When we ask, he gives it.

Meanwhile, Linnea and I are having trouble finding Micah’s favorite motorcycle. Maybe we should start watching his diapers.

”Because of his glory and excellence, he has given us great and precious promises. These are the promises that enable you to share his divine nature and escape the world’s corruption caused by human desires.” (2 Peter 1:4)

DO NOT ENTER

All of us have turned down a one way street the wrong way and abruptly become aware of it when oncoming cars appeared, heading straight for us. Though none of us intend to go the wrong way, disaster can result from just a few seconds of ignoring the signs.

Yesterday, while maneuvering out of the airport parking garage and chatting with Linnea, I made a serious wrong-way mistake. As is true of many parking garages, a corkscrew ramp connected the different floors, and we entered one of them without paying attention.

As we went round and round I said, “I’m not sure why we’re going up,” but in an instant I found out: we were upping the down ramp.

When another car came flying around the blind curve unaware we were rising to meet him, we nearly made impact. “Mom!” Linnea shouted, as we both swerved and stopped short.

The other driver was gracious, rolling down his window and saying, “I have no idea how you got here, but you’re going the wrong way.”

Meanwhile, other drivers were careening down the ramp toward us, and our crisis continued. “Mom! Turn around!” Linnea said, fear in her voice.

As we inched back and forth in an effort to quickly right our wrong, I repeatedly sounded the horn to warn oncoming traffic, and 4 cars screeched to a halt to let us finish our 180. Finally arriving at the base of the corkscrew, the place we wrongly entered, I said, “The sign above will say ‘exit,’ I just know it.”

Linnea looked back as we came off the ramp: “It says DO NOT ENTER!”

I’ve often wished God would plant directional signs along life’s path so I’d know exactly what to do and which way to go. But yesterday proved that even if he did, and even if he used large block letters on a yellow background, I might still miss his warnings.

Actually God has been holding up signs in front of me for 6 decades. His collection of them is called the Bible, and he’s got a directional for every situation, many of them cautions I ought to heed. Although DO NOT ENTER isn’t one of his top 10, he does have quite a few DO-NOT’s. And just like on the corkscrew ramp, ignoring them is always dangerous. That’s the reason for his DO NOT’s in the first place. What he means is, “DO NOT get yourself in a mess you’ll regret later by ignoring my warnings,” a good reason to stay focused on his signs.

I think I understand the layout of the airport parking garage now, but just to be sure, I think next time I’ll let someone else drive.

“We must pay the most careful attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away.” (Hebrews 2:1)