“Something happened!”

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My oldest grandchild, Skylar, has a sparking personality backed by a strong will. Recently I got to spend a week with her and her family, catching up on her latest dreams and schemes. One thing she loves (along with every other two year old) is to join adults in whatever they’re doing, and I love having her assist me.

Ever since she was little, she’s “helped” me put on my make-up. As we approach the task, I’ve already removed the dangerous items from my zipped bag: a hair-cutting scissors, eyebrow pencil sharpener and nail clippers. Then, as I work to improve my old face, Skylar pretends to improve her flawless one.

The only questionable tool I’ve left in the bag is an eyebrow plucker, the kind with a scissors handle. Its “points” are flat, and I didn’t think Skylar could do any damage with it. Leave it to a two year old to prove me wrong.

While I was busy staring into a hand-size 10X magnifier mirror trying to put mascara on, Skylar hopped off her stool and wandered out of the room. In 20 seconds I heard a “Tszt” just before the power went out. Immediately Skylar’s alarmed voice came from the next room. “Something happened!”

We all came running, and there, sticking out of a wall outlet, was my scissor-shaped eyebrow tweezers. She’d plugged it into a socket and had experienced something new, an up-the-arm jolt like we’ve all known, unpleasant but not especially harmful.

Skylar ran to her daddy’s reassuring arms but never shed a tear, and I would have given anything to know her immediate thoughts. For a minute, however, our chatty Skylar was speechless.

I would never intentionally hurt one of my grandchildren, but this incident was probably my bad. There was an up-side, though. Skylar’s experiment taught her a few things:

  • Outlets are covered for good reasons.
  • Electrical shocks feel terrible.
  • My parents were protecting me when they told me, “No.”
  • I should obey my parents.
  • I’ll never do that again!

Experience is our best teacher, and Skylar’s new respect for electrical outlets will never dim. No damage was done (except to the blackened tips of my tweezers), and important lessons were learned.

Once in a while all of us have to be taught just like Skylar, through harsh experience. Scripture is full of wisdom we don’t heed as we toss it aside in favor of our own flawed ideas. So God steps back and lets us learn the hard way. Once we learn to internalize wisdom simply by listening, we spare ourselves and others unnumbered “jolts”.

If Skylar had simply believed her parents when they told her electrical outlets could hurt her, she would have avoided her unpleasant zap. Hopefully that potent lesson will serve to increase the validity of her folks’ advice from here on.

As for me, when I work with my traumatized tweezers, I’ll try to remember Skylar’s example, because I’d rather learn by listening than by a jolting.

“Josiah was eight years old when he became king… He did what was pleasing in the Lord’s sight and… did not turn away from doing what was right.” (2 Chronicles 34:1-2)

Good Advice

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If I were you, I’d…
I think you should…
You ought to…
You’d better consider…

Some people are always offering advice, whether solicited or not.

Nate never lectured that way, although he was always ready with an opinion if asked. I often went to him for counsel when I didn’t know what to do next. His head was regularly more level than mine, and I knew I could count on hearing ideas in a realm I hadn’t yet considered.

Recently a long-time friend sent me two letters written by Nate. He’d mailed them to her and her husband in 1986, and she knew I’d appreciate “hearing from Nate” now. These friends of ours were going through a financial squeeze much like we were at the time, and Nate had been touched by their plight.

The first letter’s purpose was to encourage them. He quotes Winston Churchill’s statement, “Never, never, never, never give in!” and refers to Roosevelt’s speech about trying valiantly rather than giving up without a fight. Nate wrote, “Tough as it is, it’s much better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all.”

In four handwritten pages, he gives only two short sentences of advice: 1) Keep your attitude up, and 2) call me if you want some free lawyer advice on your lawsuit.

It warmed me to see Nate’s large, loopy handwriting again, although I used to fuss at him for not writing more legibly. But better than the penmanship was his message. I remember those days well, dark with worry and full of complaint. Nate was not only frustrated with his career plunge but felt like a personal failure to his family, which included six children at the time. Yet somehow he came up with four pages of uplifting words for our friends.

None of us can say why life has to include massive failures and disappointments. Maybe it has to do with our asking God to make us more like Christ. That doesn’t come without suffering or pain, and hardship gives us that chance. Of course we can become angry about it, but that’s hardly fair if we’ve asked for exactly such opportunities.

Trials push us to Scripture and prayer, which brings us closer to God. Coming closer to God results in rubbing shoulders with Jesus, which in turn makes us more Christ-like. What begins as harmful can turn out well.

In Nate’s second letter, he relates the details of his own struggle. I sense that writing it out long hand somehow helped him. Our financial future was spinning like a tornado, and summarizing it on paper seemed to bring a measure of calm into his personal storm.

He ends with an invitation for these friends (who lived one state away) to come and visit us, writing out exact driving directions to our house. Although this couple now lives four states away, we are still “close”…

…close enough for them to know how much I would love receiving two letters from Nate.

“You are a letter from Christ… This “letter” is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:3)

Come and get me.

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Any of us who’ve lost loved ones to death find our thoughts moving between two different worlds, the here and the hereafter. This back-and-forth thought process includes a pause at a theological stop sign: Christ’s second coming.

According to the calendar of human history, we’re living in that middle ground between Jesus’ first coming and his second, his first as a newborn who grew into our radical Savior, and his second as a victor in battle.

Once in a while I think, “What if Jesus returned to earth tonight?”

He promised that when he did come back, it would be to defeat evil and escort Christians to heaven. He actually said, “I’ll take you home with me.” (John 14:2)

I love that he’s implying we’ll feel right at home when we get to heaven. It’ll be similar to returning home after an arduous journey with a big “Ahhh” of contentment when we walk in the door. So I tell myself, “Wouldn’t it be spectacular if Jesus came today?” But I struggle to answer, “Yes.”

And there’s a good reason: I need more time to do better at living the Christian life.

Most of us get only 7 or 8 decades on the earth, and it took me about half of those to get into gear in my walk with the Lord. Much of my early life was bare-minimum believing as I straddled a spiritual fence between obedience and rebellion. Even now, already in my 60’s, I should be doing much better.

And so, I figure, I need more time to keep trying.

Is Jesus reading this and chuckling? Or is he reading it and saying, “You’ve got the right idea.” Being unsure of the answer is probably an indication of my spiritual immaturity. Of course I’m longing to be with Jesus and to experience walking into his home, finding the place he’s prepared for me there. But as the Bible so aptly puts it,”Night is coming, when no one can work.” (John 4:9) Time to try harder will eventually end.

My hesitation to head to heaven isn’t because I want to earn more glory-points. It’s about feeling badly over personal sin and hoping for time to practice godly living, to be a better daughter to God. Just as I wanted my earthly dad to be pleased with me and felt badly when he wasn’t, I have a strong longing to please my heavenly Father.

There’s just one nagging thought behind my philosophy of wanting more earthly time. What if my condition as a human being is exactly the factor that’s prohibiting greater success at godly living? I don’t mean to say ungodly desires aren’t the root cause, but what if even the most saintly person among us still feels like I do, no matter how many years she has to work on it?

In that case, it would be a really good thing if Jesus just came and got me tonight.

“To the one who does not work but trusts God, who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness.” (Romans 4:5)