Two little boys sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge of their chairs. Timmy, five years old, and Jason, eight, stare at the floor, sheepishly waiting their chastening. They’re good boys but this night, they’ve misbehaved all evening, failing to heed numerous admonitions from their mother to settle down.
My friend has had enough. She scoots the boys’ chairs even closer together, and looks her sons straight in the eyes.
“Who’s the Mommy?”
“You are.”
“And who are the little boys?”
“We are.”
“Okay.”
That’s it. Confrontation over. Timmy and Jason are dismissed to play—and behave themselves.
As I watch this scene from the other side of the room I can’t help but wonder if this is how God sees me sometimes. After all, He knows I love Him. He understands that I don’t intentionally set out to disobey Him. Yet, at times I can become so shortsighted, foolishly intent to satisfy some desire I even know deep down is not in my best interest at all. Still, I want it anyway whatever “it” is at the moment.
So God sits me down in the proverbial chair and says:
“Who’s the Daddy?”
“You are.”
“And who is the little girl?”
“I am.”
As this new week begins, I want to be mindful that the God of the Universe is a Holy God, worthy of my trust and heartfelt obedience. And yet, this same God, my Lord and God, is so personal, His love for me so profound, He invites me to call Him, “Daddy.”
“For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!'” (Romans 8:15 ESV)
Gayle, I love how you are able to write about such deep spiritual topics in such clear, simple terms!
Bless you, Terri. Thanks so much!