Of Sandboxes and God

Years ago, I built a sandbox for David.  Not some little Mr. Turtle sandbox; it was a MANLY sandbox!  It measured 8 feet to a side, had seats on all four corners, and held 1750 lbs of sand!  I put landscape fabric under it so the worms wouldn't come up through the bottom nor would the earth underneath mix with the sand.  I worked hard to build it well and complete it quickly.  Then I presented it to David.  His eyes glowed!  And I went off to my next task.

Within 5 minutes, he was right behind me again.  "Daddy, will you come and play with me in the sandbox?"  I found myself torn; I felt the tyranny of the list of unfinished tasks I needed to complete. But I also remembered, with a smile, a story my mother told me.

Her firstborn (me!) was bored and asking her what he could do.  She built what amounted to a small city out of Lego, brought out some Hot Wheels cars and said, "There you go! Have fun!" Then off she went to finish her vacuuming, or some such task.  Sure enough, five minutes later, there I was, asking, "Will you play with me?"  She jokingly said to me, "When you grow up and have a family, I hope you have a child just like you!"  I thought maybe I could avoid the curse by adoption, but God has a sense of humour, doesn't He?

I learned an important lesson about my son that day: my David treasured my presence in the sandbox far more than my present of the sandbox.

And here I am, so many years later, realizing another, more profound lesson: God feels the same way! He treasures my presence, my time, my communication with Him far more than any present, any financial or physical gift I might bring, anything I can do for Him.  Oh sure, if those gifts are given from the heart, He certainly values them.  But He doesn't need my resources; they all came from Him in the first place! What He desires is my time with Him, spent talking and listening to Him.  He values my fellowship with Him.

Some people view God as being like me with the sandbox; He spent time making something pretty amazing: a beautiful planet, a stunning garden, delicious food, exotic animals. And He placed Adam and Eve in the middle of it, then walked away and left them to figure things out, because He had other important things to get to. As I've written before, this is patently false because the Bible teaches clearly in the book of Genesis, chapter 3, that God had a habit of coming to walk in the garden with Adam and Eve.  Think of how nice that would be; the cool of the day, no mosquitoes biting you, no thistles in your bare feet, just the soft grass, the warm air, the fragrance of the flowers ... and God right there so you can ask any question that comes to mind.

Many's the time I wished I could text message God with my questions! Or call Him and hear His voice. Or facetime Him. Especially lately. Instead He chooses to have us use prayer -- a direct hotline straight to His office, as it were. We're just not so crazy about the method because we want a clear answer now. And God often chooses to teach us the answer, rather than just give it to us.

Ever notice how, if you pray for patience, He never gives it to you.  Instead He gives you opportunities to learn patience.  I've done that with my own children.  Rather than give them money for something they want, I give them an opportunity to earn the money they need.  Why?  Because they value it far more that way, or they learn that it wasn't really that important to them in the first place.  And if I'm smart, I devise an opportunity for them to do something with me, so I can have time with them, because I love them and I value the relationship I have with them.

When we lost our David, I had a choice: I could shake my fist at God, blame Him for everything, and turn my back on Him forever. I would still have my grief, I would still feel lost at times, but I would have no purpose nor any comfort.  Or I could turn to Him, cling to Him, cry out to Him, knowing He was listening and weeping with me, and have the comfort of His presence and of knowing there was a purpose in all of it, even if I didn't understand it all.  How do I know He wept with me?  Why wouldn't He?  He wept over Jerusalem, and He loves me like a father loves his child.  My earthly dad wept with me; why wouldn't my Heavenly Dad?

And here again is the reflection of the intimacy He desires with us; He grieves in our losses, He rejoices in our victories, and He delights in our interaction with Him.

Don't neglect the gifts of your finances and time and strength; the scale with which you measure those out reflects the value you place on what He's accomplished for you.  But the next time you get together with Him, really spend some time with Him, like you would like your child to spend with you.  Get to know Him.  Share with Him in prayer. And listen for Him to respond to you. You'll find it will take your relationship with Him to a whole new level.

Thy Will Be Done

Luke 22:42

"Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me;

yet not My will but Yours be done."

February 17, 2017 was my birthday ... the first one without David.

They say the first year -- the year of Firsts -- is the hardest. I didn't know how I was going to be, so I decided to show myself some grace, take the day off and stay home.  It was a contemplative day.

I found myself thinking about the phrase "Thy Will Be Done", the title of this post.  I asked myself "To what extent am I committed to saying that? What if God requires my health of me? Or my daughter Kate? Or my wife Judy?"  And I considered Jesus.

Jesus, as the Son of God, had at His disposal all the incomprehensible glories of heaven.  When God asked Him to go to earth, to teach mankind what God the Father was like, to leave "the splendors of heaven, knowing His destiny was the lonely hill of Golgotha, there to lay down His life for me" as the old hymn says, Jesus response was "I delight to do Your will". He would really set all that aside to go and be born in a smelly animal stable, live a life of poverty and mostly obscurity, be wrongfully accused, unjustly tried and sentenced by cowards and liars, and finally be executed on a cross, the Roman pinnacle of torture devices -- and He would delight to do that?

Consider what Hebrews 12, verse 2, says: "[Jesus], who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, ..." What was that joy that was set before Him? Part of it was that we would be restored to a relationship with Him, as it was in the beginning.   Ephesians 1:18 refers to "the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints". Did you catch that? Not the riches of our inheritance in Him but His inheritance in us! Jesus is that much in love with you, that He considers you a rich inheritance! 

So how is it possible, then, that a God who prizes you so highly suddenly becomes capricious or spitefully cruel? It doesn't make sense. God doesn't play mind games,  nor does He get a kick out of causing us misery; a caring father doesn't do that. When something painful occurs in our lives, then, and we know God has allowed it, we need to ask Him to show us His purpose, so we can line up with it.

When Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane,  He was facing, in His humanity, a horrifying experience; the excruciating (even this word has the same root!) pain of death on a cross. But in His full deity, He was also horrified at having to bear our sin -- He, the Holy Son of God. And His Father, who had always looked on Him in love, would soon look on Him in fierce anger and righteous judgment, as Jesus bore the penalty of our sin.

And yet He prayed " ... not My will but Yours be done."  

Trust, love, unity of purpose. I want that in my relationship with God too.

Lady Antebellum's Hillary Scott and family performed this beautiful song, "Thy Will Be Done"  She says:

"I wrote this song about a very recent experience that left me heartbroken, asking why, and facing some of my most difficult days. This song is my letter to God. As I ask some really hard questions, I hold onto the truth that there is so much to the story of my life that I can't see. But, that I still choose to trust Him."

I'm so confused

I know I heard You loud and clear

So, I followed through

Somehow I ended up here

I don’t wanna think

I may never understand

That my broken heart is a part of Your plan

When I try to pray

All I’ve got is hurt and these four words

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

I know You’re good

But this don’t feel good right now

And I know You think

Of things I could never think about

It’s hard to count it all joy

Distracted by the noise

Just trying to make sense

Of all Your promises

Sometimes I gotta stop

Remember that You’re God

And I am not

So

Thy will be done

And I'll say the same.

Questions for God

Isaiah 1:18

"Come now, and let us reason together" says the Lord. 

Our Daily Bread's devotional for today shares the story of a little boy who tells his grandparents he wasn't surprised by their unannounced arrival "Because I know everything!"

We chuckle at the audacity of a little child making such a bold statement for two reasons: 1. We can probably think of a time when we thought the same way about ourselves, and 2. As we get older, life teaches us how much we still have to learn.

The task of parenting is one of those. A friend once remarked to me that, if she could have spent an additional hour and a half on the delivery table and popped out a manual for her child, she would have done it! The first-time parent often has moments where they question what to do, or if they did the right thing when faced with multiple options. Even more difficult are the questions we ask ourselves in later years, when we reflect back in times of sorrow or grief and ask, "Could I have done something more, or done something differently?" I have asked myself these questions many times in the last few weeks, as I reflect back over the events through the last several years that culminated in our son's death.

I've talked to God about it too. Some people may have come to this post thinking it was about questioning the existence of God. That is no longer a question for me. Don't get me wrong; I've been through times where I wondered if I'd bought in to a fable, where I had questioned whether God was real or not. Being a biologist by training and a teacher of mathematics by occupation, I need to see evidence, I need facts. Now that I'm over 50, there has been such a wealth of evidence in my life, not just for His existence, but for His very real presence, that I am done questioning it, like we're done questioning gravity.

But I still have questions for God. I ask Him, "Why?" And I believe He's okay with that. You see, I would actually like an answer, and I'll be listening for one, but I'm cognizant that I may not get one that I can understand.

I was reading the Bible, in the book of Acts, chapter 12, last November. In that chapter it records a noteworthy event; the miraculous release of Peter from prison. I've heard sermons on it, and even thought "I'd like something like that to happen to me!" Maybe you've done the same.

But last fall,  I noticed something I'd never noticed before; a brief statement in verse 2 that Herod had James "put to death with the sword". Yet, mere verses later, Peter's chains drop loose, prison doors are opened while the guards sleep, and Peter finds himself outside the prison, and he walks to where the other disciples are gathered.

Why did God allow James to be executed, but Peter to be miraculously released? Didn't the disciples pray just as hard for James' release? What about James' family?Wouldn't two miraculous releases bring even more glory to God?

Last Sunday, we celebrated the fact that one of our young men, who has struggled with addiction, was heading off to a program that would support him in breaking free from addiction, while developing and strengthening his relationship with Jesus Christ. There was such joy all around ... but it was mixed with pain in my heart as I asked God, "Why could this not have been part of David's story as well, God? Why couldn't we be rejoicing over his future recovery, instead of weeping over his grave?"

I had asked God similar questions last November when reading Acts 12. "Why are my friends' children, who grew up in the same church, going on for You, God, while my David is running from You? Why must I agonize over his choices, instead of being able to rejoice over them?"

I may not ever get answers to these questions that I will understand or be satisfied with. But here's one thing I also had to ask myself: Do I trust God that He was still at work, that He's still a loving God? That He loved my David, and my Kate, enough that He would sentence His Son to die in their place and, for that reason, isn't done yet? Do I?

God, in His mercy to David and to us, gave David a block of time last fall where he was clean and sober and stable on medication. In that time frame, David acknowledged the mess he was making of things, his desire to change, and his need of Jesus Christ to forgive him for all the mess he'd created by his choices. God said, in His Word, that "if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you shall be saved." (Romans 10:9) I believe I will see my son again, despite his failings and mine, because God did the work of redeeming us both.

No question.

A Solid Foundation

When the bottom drops out of your world, what's holding you up?

I wrote in an earlier post that "there is something about looking at your own son in a casket that makes you assess whether you truly believe that God is as good as He claims to be."  It's when your very foundations are shaken that you truly discover whether your life is founded on something solid or not.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm getting older, or maybe it's the starkness of recent events, but in the last few weeks, I have found myself to be more pensive, more contemplative.  Thinking back over the week after David died, I recall my cousin's husband asking how we were holding up.  That had been a very hard day; we had been choosing a grave site for our son and for ourselves.  Brings you face to face with your mortality, let me tell you! I remember saying, "Of all the things a dad longs to do for his child, choosing a casket and a burial plot are not on that list." And I look back and ask, "What kept us going that week? How were we able to keep putting one foot in front of the other and do what we needed to do?" As we took care of things needing to be addressed, we had several people in the "business" tell us, "You're doing very well, considering ..." So why?

We all tend to live under the illusion that we have some control over our lives.  Poet William Ernest Henley wrote, in his poem "Invictus", "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." Are we? Are we really?

It's when tragic and overwhelming events occur, such as the death of a child or spouse, or a betrayal and divorce, or the confirmation of a life-altering or life-threatening disease, or some other foundation-shaking situation, that we realize we are NOT in control; we have little, if anything, to say regarding the circumstances of our lives. 

In times like these, religion isn't going to get you through, not with calm assurance.  It's just not enough, because it's not what we were designed for.  Here's what I mean. 

Timothy Keller writes:

How Religion works: If I obey and please God, then He will accept and love me.

So when someone says to me, "Good thing you have your religion/your faith to see you through." my concern is that they are thinking, "Mike and Judy, they're good people and they have faith in God. Their faith will give them the strength to see them through."  Inadvertently, there's a thought that the source of the strength is me, is my faith, is my belief.  Please, let me assure you, that's incorrect; I am not a good person; I fully agree with the Bible (Jeremiah 17:9) that my "heart is deceitful, above all else, and desperately wicked".  And my adherence to a set of rules or traditions, or my membership in an institution, no matter how devoted, will leave me wondering, when my world is rocked, "What was it all for?"

Timothy Keller goes on to remind us that the message of the Bible is that God is already loving us while we are waving are fists in His face and saying "NO!"  It was out of His love for us that He created us in the first place.  He desired to have a relationship with us.   He created the first man, had him recognize his need of a partner and created a woman for him, and then spent regular time with the two of them in relationship.  How do we know that?  When they had rebelled against Him and eaten the fruit from the one tree out of thousands He had instructed them not to eat of, it says that "they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden ... and the man and his wife hid themselves..." (Gen. 3:8)  How did they recognize the sound of God walking in the garden, unless that was what He did on a regular basis and it was familiar to them? He's not a God of religion; in fact, time and again in the Old Testament, He tells the nation of Israel things like "...this people ... honour Me with their lips, but have removed their hearts far from Me, and their fear toward Me is tradition by the precept of men..."  Does God desire the "tradition"? Or does He desire a willing heart?

In Acts 19:11-20, some men who were the "sons of Sceva" were trying to do what Paul had been doing, in terms of healing people and freeing them from demonic spirits.  They tried to use Paul's words, "In the name of Christ whom Paul preaches ..." to invoke the power, as if it was about using some kind of algorithm to manipulate God into doing what they wanted.  It went very badly for them! I guess that's what I think of when I hear the term "religious".  When I was "religious", I treated God somewhat like a lucky rabbit's foot.  I'll "do church", live clean, behave morally, and thereby God will be obliged to do what I want of Him.  It was all a facade, a thin veneer.  Underneath it all was a heart that was very broken and rebellious!  God had to teach me that He wanted my heart; He desired my obedience and devotion as a result of seeing His overwhelming love for me, a love willing to go to the extent that He did not even withhold the Son He loved, but sent Him to die to make it possible for me to be forgiven and to be in relationship with Him.

Knowing how much I am loved by the God of the universe is the only thing that is constant and certain when all around me seems to be crumbling.  At David's funeral, we sang an old children's hymn, that I had learned when I was a little boy and that I would often sing to both my kids when they were little and lying in bed, getting ready to go to sleep.

I am so glad that our Father in heaven

Tells of His love in the Book He has given.

Wonderful things in the Bible I see

This is the dearest, that Jesus loves me!

Though I forget Him and wander away

Still He does love me wherever I stray

Back to His dear loving arms would I flee

When I remember that Jesus loves me!

Oh, if there's only one song I can sing

When in His beauty I see the Great King

This shall my song in eternity be:

"Oh, what a wonder that Jesus loves me!"

Chorus:  I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me!

I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves even me!

Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, says (I Cor. 13:13) "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."