Take your lumps.

Safety in this life can’t be guaranteed. As a matter of fact, safety as a goal isn’t necessarily a good one.

Take backyard safety, for example. Hans and Katy were given a set of jungle gym bars and an attached slide when their twins were less than two years old. They explained how to climb on the bars with care and demonstrated the proper way to use the slide.

Their 3 little monkeys took to it immediately, practicing not only the right way to do everything but also the wrong way. I’ve watched them climb with wet feet that slipped and delivered a bop to the chin. They’ve gone down face first into a mouthful of grass. They’ve swung from the highest bars simultaneously, crashing in the middle. They’ve rushed down the slide hoping to bang into the one still at the bottom.

Backyard safety isn’t easy to come by. But if Katy played the role of mother-hover trying to prevent bumps and bruises, she’d also be eliminating valuable learning. Every little accident gives new knowledge that will permanently come in handy.

It’s a good idea to let children take their lumps.

God the Father does the same with us. He lets us try to handle our “toys”, those things we’re convinced will improve our lives or make us happy, but he first spells out the rules in Scripture. We nod our heads in agreement. We might even memorize what he says. But trouble comes when we suggest add-ons that we think will work well, too.

For example, God carefully instructs us how to have a satisfying marriage, but we tack on ideas of our own, thinking they’ll only serve to enhance what God said. It’s absurd to think he might not know the best way to do things, and even more ridiculous to think we might know more than he does.

Those misconceptions are exactly what mankind’s first foray into sin was all about. Satan tempted Eve (and her husband, who was listening in) by telling them the only reason God forbid them to eat from the tree in the middle of the garden was so they wouldn’t be all-wise like he was. That convinced them of two things: (1) they wanted to be wise, and (2) they wanted to be like God. Their next move was, “Crunch. Mmmm.”

It’s a good idea for us to avoid thinking that same way about God’s instructions and rules.

Young children fully believe the world revolves around them, and when natural consequences (falling off the jungle gym) prove otherwise, valuable lessons are learned. If we as adults ignore or twist what our authorities tell us by writing our own rules, especially if it revises what God has already said, we’ll end up with some negative consequences, too. They might come from the police, a teacher, a judge, or God himself and will be far more serious than a fall from a jungle gym. But hopefully, taking our lumps will help us learn.

“May he turn our hearts to him, to walk in obedience to him.” (1 Kings 8:58)

Comfort Zone

Everybody needs comforting now and then. I think back to each of my children and remember how they consoled themselves with pacifiers, or a thumb, a special blanket, a stuffed animal.

Hans attached himself to a pale blue flannel blanket edged in satin, the perfect wrap for a fall baby. When he outgrew the need, I packed it away, a little worse for wear but still a serviceable blanket.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Hans was a daddy with his own comfort-seeking little ones. I passed along the blanket, and in my recent visit to England, got to see what happened to it. Two year old Thomas has bonded with it and lovingly named it MipMip.

The satin is long gone, and he’s literally loved it to pieces. (Think shreds.)

When Katy realized it was gradually disappearing, she took the larger part of it to her mum for creative reinforcement. Sarah used pieces of an old blue nightie to strengthen MipMip, cutting the last of it in two chunks, one to comfort and one to wash.

Whenever Thomas needs soothing, he calls for MipMip. At bedtime, it’s MipMip he cuddles. If life gets unfair, MipMip is the solution. He’s consistent in his devotion and trusts in his chosen comforter.

If only grown-up tensions could be as easily assuaged. Interestingly, though, when we call on God to comfort us, he always knows exactly how to deliver what we need. Maybe that’s why the Bible is such a big book, inviting us to thumb through its many pages to find relief there.

One of its most familiar passages, Psalm 23, describes a strange kind of comfort: “Your rod [Father], and your staff, they comfort me.” (v. 4) How can a rod and staff bring comfort? In other places in Scripture, a “rod” represents discipline: “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” But can discipline comfort?

I remember a “Little House” episode in which one of the young boys lied and cheated in school, secretly suffering emotionally afterwards. When he was finally exposed, his father said he’d have to punish him “with the strap” (i.e. rod). The boy said, “That’s ok. It’ll make me feel better.” We get that. Paying a proper price sets things right.

But what about a staff? A shepherd uses the crook at the end of it to pull wayward sheep back to him, just as God sometimes abruptly tugs us the same way. Being pulled that way doesn’t always feel good, but to be reunited with him brings comfort.

So, comfort comes in many forms, and of course Thomas’ MipMip is one of them. It’s important to note that if the larger chunks of his blanket can’t be located, one of the tiny shreds works almost as well. Thankfully, though, the Lord never skimps on comfort. He gives it in abundance:

“As we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Corinthians 1:5)

Say it well.

Years ago when my sister Mary and I were visiting Sweden, we launched out from our hostess’ home (in a borrowed car) to buy souvenirs. Hours later, when heading back, we got disoriented… and completely lost.

Road signs were in Swedish (duh), and we couldn’t read them. We had no phone and only vague knowledge of an address, and at a gas station the attendant couldn’t understand our questions. Two frustrating hours passed, and through the process of systematically trying every exit and every turn, we finally found our way back. If only we’d had a translator.

This morning I was wondering if Nate needs a translator in paradise. How presumptuous to think he’s speaking English, yet maybe he is. Scripture says those gathered there will be in groups representing every earthly language. (Revelation 7:9) So how will we understand each other?

Maybe as we voice our native tongues, each listener will instinctively understand other languages like a computer effortlessly translates foreign sentences. If that’s true, Nate is still speaking English. Or maybe he’s having fun trying out his college Russian.

A more tidy explanation, though, might be that God will put a new language into our heads and mouths, something supernaturally provided. I do know he’ll use words as a tool to promote togetherness rather than division, since family unity is important.

I love words, and I love putting them together, taking thoughts that are floating around and pinning them to blank paper with ink. My satisfaction in creating word pictures and stories is much like a puzzler enjoying the process of assembling 1000 pieces without ever looking at the box-picture.

But language can also be a barrier. Missionaries and diplomats overcome this by partnering with interpreters, people who know two languages and serve as a link between them.

Louisa, Birgitta, and I have supported a little girl who lives in India since she was 3 years old. Her name is Jayanti, and she’s now a pretty teenager of 15… who speaks no English. Every few weeks we receive a hand-written letter from her, along with a typed translation from an interpreter. We stare at Jayanti’s swirly script and can’t make heads or tails out of it. Without the accompanying translation, we wouldn’t be able to have a relationship with her at all. And of course our mail back to her also needs interpretation. The best we can hope for is that those translating at both ends are skilled and honest.

As for Nate, whether he’s speaking English or something else, he’s in the presence of a keenly skilled, flawlessly honest Interpreter, who fluently speaks and understands every one of the 6000+ languages that exist. Thankfully, that means he completely understands those of us still on the earth. Though we might get confused, he never does.

“By your blood [Jesus] you ransomed people for God from every… language.” (Revelation 5:9)