A couple of weeks ago, two of our dearest friends, Aaron and Cory Lynne Myers, drove in with their girls, Elli Kate and
Ana Beth, to watch our oldest graduate from high school. Their presence was a special gift, and it made my heart happy to see them seated happily alongside family members, right where they belong. These two came on the scene when Hunter still slept on Toy Story bedding, you see, and they have played a big part in his
becoming the tender-hearted, Jesus-chasing young man that he is today.
After commencement, our families went to Zio’s in Bricktown to eat high-calorie
foods and catch up. While we waited for
a table, we ventured down the steep steps to the Riverwalk. Because our kids are old enough to walk
without help, the Sanders family followed theirs, and it gave me a lot of joy to watch
Aaron and Cory with the girls. All
smiles, they were patient and loving.
Walking slowly so that Elli Kate could navigate the steps herself
without falling, Aaron and Cory made a sincere effort to experience their
surroundings from their daughters’ perspectives.
Following Elli Kate’s curious gaze and pointing finger, Cory Lynne expressed wonder
at every discovery as if she, too, were seeing the ducks and flowers for the
first time. Aaron, a man’s man, hugged
his youngest up cheek to cheek and whispered with excitement, “Look! A boat!”
Ana Beth’s soft gasp and wide-eyed response melted my heart.
I blinked back tears for a few moments.
Then I got to thinking about what it means to be a parent,
not a biological parent, but a spiritual parent. We evangelicals have been accused in the past
of winning souls and then leaving our spiritual babies out on the rocks to die
like the Spartans did. Though I tend to
agree on some levels, I think that particular metaphor is a little
extreme.
We are not mean, lazy, or apathetic. We truly want to help new believers
grow. Many of us just don’t know
how.
Perhaps eager to impress our new brothers and sisters in
Christ, we give them big bites of meat to chew before they’re ready, sometimes before
we’ve even figured out how to swallow and digest it ourselves. Siblings excited at the prospect of a new
playmate and running buddy, we prop them up and expect them to walk before they’ve
even had a chance to crawl.
We forget what it’s like to be baby Christians, to crave—to need—spiritual
milk and take our first tentative steps of faith. Maybe we need to slow down like Aaron and
Cory did and make a sincere effort to see things with fresh perspective. Maybe it’s time to throw off pretense and
point out the simple wonders of this life we have in Christ.
“God is your Daddy now, and He loves you more than you can imagine!”
“You are forgiven! Your heart is clean.”
“You’re free! You don’t have to sin anymore.”
“You have a purpose!”
“You don’t have to be afraid!”
What would you add?
Remember, when we teach, we learn, too, and there’s no shame
in being brand new.
I am not a roller coaster girl! Some people live for the thrill of riding
them. Not me. I do enjoy the initial tickle in my belly and
the pounding of my heart. I don’t even
mind the strange urge to laugh and scream at the same time on the first drop,
but that’s where the happiness ends for me.
I hate the feeling of being out of control.
There are a few roller coasters I will ride, though. I actually like the Wildfire at Silver Dollar
City. Maybe it’s because I can see the
whole thing from the railing, or maybe it’s because the ride is smooth and the heavy
metal harnesses fasten tightly with a very loud click. Then again, maybe I like it because no one,
to my knowledge (and please don’t correct me if I’m wrong!), has ever fallen from
it to their untimely death.
Yep, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that’s why I
like it.
The Wildfire is safe, at least in my estimation, safe and
familiar. I know where the dips and twists are.
I know where it speeds up and slows down. I even know where to smile for the
camera. I own the hoodie, for goodness
sake! Given the chance to ride the
Wildfire again, I will say “yes” without reservation.
I thought about the Wildfire this morning during my quiet
time. There I was, reading through
Galatians, minding my own business, when the Lord began to talk to me, not in a
casual, “Let’s chat” kind of way, but in a tummy tickling, “Are you ready for
this?” kind of way that caused my heart to pound a little. It’s the kind of thing I pray for, hope for,
yearn for more than anything else.
It was awesome!
So, what did I do?
How did I respond? I shut my
Bible and stopped praying. I stopped
listening. I reminded myself that I had
a bed to make, makeup to put on, and a teenage son to wake (I’m good at making lists
when I need to), but the truth is I was scared, scared to hear what God had to
say, scared that it would be too big for me to process, scared that it would be
too much for me to handle on my own.
And, of course, it always is. At some point, though, we (meaning me) must learn to rest
in the fact that God loves us and is in complete control even when we are not. Though
we may not be able to see all the twists and turns and dips that lie ahead, we can
let go and walk in faith, knowing that nothing comes into our lives unless He
allows it. We can feel confident in the
fact that His grace is sufficient.
I wish I could tell you that I immediately prayed, confessed
my lack of faith, and felt better about everything or that I reopened my Bible,
at least.
I wish I could.
After all, what the Lord has in mind for me may not be big, awful,
or scary at all. It could be something
happy and exciting, something that I would choose for myself. Actually, I think that it is, but I could
always be wrong. What He has in mind could
be the kind of long and difficult ride that draws a large Facebook following
and stirs prayer warriors to action, and that’s why it’s taken me an entire day
to come to a place of peace and surrender.
I don’t know what lies ahead. The ride ahead may or may not be a smooth
one, but I know this. My Heavenly Father
is big and strong and holds me firmly in His grip. He has never let me fall.
Will I join Him on this ride, whatever it is? “Yes,” without reservation.
