Monthly Archives: July 2012

Too big or too small?

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Every parent knows that excursions with young children are sometimes more haphazard than happy, and a trip to the beach can be especially intense. Not only do they have to slather everyone with sun cream, they have to pack up food, drinks, toys, towels, and shade.

For the last 10 days we’ve had fun with 3 generations bunking at my house. Daily we trudged across red-hot beach sand to the cool waters of Lake Michigan toting armloads of fun-promising equipment. But along with all the entertainment was one item parents of beach-bound babies don’t want to forget: a sun hat.

Our 4 month old Autumn has very little hair to protect her “dome”, so the safest place for her is under the shade of a hat or an umbrella. But when Linnea and Adam were packing, they couldn’t find the hat that would fit, so they grabbed Skylar’s old one.

But Autumn had issues with “one size fits all.”

At times we all have trouble with that concept, especially when we examine our spiritual lives. The things God has told us don’t always seem to fit right, and we’re tempted to tweak them… just a little. Without making a few modifications, following him seems too big a job. The Bible is too big a book to understand, and God’s list of rules is too long to obey. Faith is too iffy to trust, and grace is too simple to accept.

But God says, “Don’t tweak anything. One-size-fits-all.”

The Gospel of Christ Jesus is a life-plan offered to every one of us, and it’s the same Gospel he has presented to all generations. No individual is excluded, and those who receive salvation as he gives it will end up in heaven. It’s a really good deal, and he designed it to “fit” everyone, just as it is.

Problems come when we begin altering the details for a better fit. Some people say, “I like a point system rather than salvation as a gift, so I’m going to earn my way to heaven. Good deeds are always good.”

Others say, “The whole thing about Jesus dying on the cross is morbid and difficult to accept. I’m holding out for answers to each of my questions. Once I have those, I’ll buy into God’s plan.”

Still others might say, “The idea of heaven sounds good, but being religious now with all the no-no’s and restrictions seems like overkill. When I’m old, I’ll take another look at it.”

These and other approaches are much like a seamstress who over-alters an outfit until it doesn’t fit at all. When God says one-size-fits-all, the only right response is to put salvation on, exactly as he designed it.

As for Autumn’s too-big sunhat? All it took was a flip of the brim, and the concept of one-size-fits-all worked like a charm.

“Put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth.” (Ephesians 4:24)

Chatterbox

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My 3rd grandchild was born 3 months after my husband died. Although Nate knew about the baby’s approaching birth, he never got the chance to meet him. He sure would have gotten a kick out of this little guy though, because Micah holds his own in conversations with adults. Although he’s only two, he’s a regular raconteur.

Tonight was a perfect example. After returning from an afternoon at the beach, Micah and I took a fussy baby Autumn on a walk while their parents organized dinner. I pushed the stroller, and Micah maneuvered a pint-sized scooter as we moved down the quiet road chatting about life.

Micah: Looka dat bike. Two seats! Dat bike has two seats. It has two seats.

Me (cutting in while he’s still talking): Two people can ride together.

Micah: Yeah, two people ride together. They ride together. Two people ride. Dat bike has two seats. It has two seats.

Me (again interrupting): You’re good with that scooter, Micah. You know how to do it.

Micah: Yeah, I’m good wit dat scooter. I’m a good scooter. I’m good. I got a scooter. Sissy got a scooter. It’s Sissy’s scooter. A good scooter. I’m a good scooter.

On and on we conversed, though 95% of the words belonged to him, as if he was on a radio broadcast wanting to fill dead air. While little Autumn cooed at passing trees, the 3 of us walked the neighborhood for 45 minutes, and Micah never once stopped talking.

There’s a parallel here between God and me. Often I start our chats with a “Dear Father…” and don’t stop talking until the “Amen.” It might be 5 minutes or 55, but it’s always yak yak yak. Requests aside, does this sort of lopsided conversation do anything for our relationship? Maybe it’s an example of Ecclesiastes 6:11: “The more the words, the less the meaning.”

But I don’t think so.

I absolutely love it when Micah talks to me. I watch the expressions on his pudgy face, his little boy mouth struggling for words, the hand motions making a point. And when he’s back in Florida, I’ll miss our chats a great deal. But what I’ve just realized is that it’s not really the talking I’ll miss. It’s the talker. And I’m fairly confident it’s much the same with God and me.

No matter what goofy things I say to him, no matter how I struggle with the words, no matter how unbalanced the dialogue, his love for the one doing the non-stop talking is stronger than his love of the conversation.

Sure, he probably wants me to listen more than I do and meditate on what he’s already told me. But when he said he would always love me, he didn’t add, “…unless you talk too much.”

I’ll never stop telling him I’m really happy about that!

“A king wants to hear the truth and will favor those who speak it.” (Proverbs 16:13)

Poisons that Kill

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Modern medicine is a good thing, and part of that is the use of effective drugs. Misuse, however, can get us into trouble.

When my husband’s cancer was rushing through his system, our drug use became prodigious. (“Medicine 101”) Those of us helping him were in a race to stay ahead of his escalating symptoms, and because pancreatic cancer is 100% fatal, we weren’t under the delusion Nate’s prescriptions would heal him. The pills were simply meant to ease his misery: Vicodin, Oxycontin, Ondansetron, Morphine, and others.

During 5 of Nate’s 6 weeks of cancer, he took the pills himself (though we handed them to him), but during the last week, everything changed. He had trouble holding onto the small pills, and sometimes they’d roll off his fingers on the way to his mouth. When that happened, we’d get on all fours around his chair in an effort to find the stray drug. With two young children in the house, one a crawler, our mission to keep an eye on each pill was critical.

One day we lost an oxicontin, the strength of which could kill a toddler. All of us endeavored to find it, literally inspecting every square inch near where Nate had last held it in his hand. We swept, vacuumed, and inspected the vacuum bag contents but failed to find the pill. And until my grandchildren left several weeks later, we lived with uncertainty and a good deal of fear.

All of our lives include scenarios that can turn out to be harmless or deadly. For example, it isn’t difficult to prevent a child from eating moldy food or a friend from running in front of a truck. But what about the out-of-sight dangers like hanging onto unforgiveness or letting anger dominate? Do we tolerate jealousy or let worry control us? Or how about allowing fear to consume us or nurturing our anger? Maybe we have a critical spirit or are permitting bitterness to take root.

Are we as diligent about locating these things in our lives as we might be in searching for a stray Oxycontin pill? If not, it’s probably because we think of hidden poisons as insipid rather than insidious, despite their ability to destroy us just as effectively as a drug overdose or a deadly cancer.

Scripture warns us to watch for these inner poisons, label them honestly, and route them out. And in the empty places they leave behind, God promises to put something new, something good, because he’s not a God of emptiness but of fullness.

As for the wayward Oxycontin pill? A month after my grandchildren left I was brushing dog hair from a heating grate when there it was, nestled snugly against the white grill. How we missed it I’ll never know, but once found, it was thoroughly destroyed.

“The church… is made full and complete by Christ, who fills all things everywhere with himself.” (Ephesians 1:23)