I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking the last couple of days about God's love and how sometimes there's this aspect to love that is more than just feel-good, warm and fuzzy cuddles. There's the part that is tough. The part where He shows you that He cares for you so much that He'll let you experience some rough times, or go through some challenges in your life if it's for your good. The whole growing process. He loves us too much to let us devolve, as we naturally would on our own.
I remember when I was working with the kids at the Rescue Mission here in town. I was the director of what was called the Playroom Project. My position was paid by a local church that supported and staffed a place where the guests of the homeless shelter could bring their children for a while every day. It was a nice break for the parents, who otherwise had to have their children with them everywhere they went throughout the day AND it was an opportunity to teach these precious children about the Lord. I loved it.
At the time, the playroom was a very small area and we had several children who came daily. Well, there was this one particular little boy who had a problem with biting. If he got upset with one of the other children or wanted their toy, he would just sink his teeth into the tender skin of the unsuspecting child (which, of course, would incline them to share their toy with him, right?). I explained to him that he absolutely COULD NOT bite the other children, but we had a few rough days before the biting incidents dropped into sweet oblivion.
However, this same little boy soon discovered that he could open the door to the playroom and this door opened into a wonderland of fun and games, for it was at one end of a wonderfully echoing corridor. Oh, the possibilities and pleasures that long hall with the shining tiles held! What races could be had! What hide-and-seek games could be played! To fly down that hallway with one's voice echoing off the walls and Teacher's footsteps in the distance, pounding in one's ears as she gave chase!
The children were not allowed to be unsupervised in the halls and I could not constantly be leaving the other children in the playroom to retrieve him. What can I say? I was an imperfect shepherd, unable to leave the 99 to play chase with the 1 straying little lamb (or sometimes 2 if another mischievous little boy decided to join him as a cohort in crime). We could not lock the door due to safety regulations and I could not always stand guard with my hand covering the doorknob to keep him from opening it to escape. I attempted employing the limited measures of discipline that I was allowed, but nothing seemed to work.
Finally, I told him that if he wanted to leave the playroom, then he would have to go to his mother and wouldn't be allowed to come back for the rest of the day. He would leave the room giggling, but would cry when he discovered that I meant what I said and he was stuck with Mom outside of playgroup while big brother was still playing, having snacks, etc.
It was hard on all of us. However, he seemed unable to resist the temptation of that shiny doorknob and those echoing halls. So, almost daily, it was the same routine. He would be delighted to be dropped off at playgroup only to depart early. I hoped that after a consistent time of showing him that the rules of playgroup would not change to fit his bad behavior, he would change his behavior. However, I still remember this one day clearly as we were working through the issue...
He had done it again and I had chased him to the end of the hall. His mother happened to be nearby and I decided to just leave him with her. As she saw us approaching, knowing what was coming and why we were there, she exclaimed, rolled her eyes and turned her back on her wayward son.
Immediately, I was struck with this awful sense of rejection. The child had nowhere to go. Yes, he had been disobedient and had certainly frustrated both his mother AND me to the point of exhaustion. However, I was unsettled by this sense of something wrong, something not as it should be. It was that this floundering child needed correction, discipline and guidance and the parent seemed to be giving up in frustration, instead of putting some of that tough love into action.
As I thought about it, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the love of God. I saw myself as that wayward child whose dimpled little hand I held firmly in mine. How many times had I strayed in disobedience and frustrated the Lord with my own waywardness? Certainly more times than this child had opened that playroom door and run the halls. And, yet, God had NEVER turned His back on me. He had never given up. He'd disciplined me when I needed it and extended the mercy I needed as well. "The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning..." (Lam. 3:22-23). "Can a woman forget her ... child and have no compassion on [her] son ...? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me." (Is. 49:15-16).
How grateful I am that God is like that father in the story of the prodigal son! That He never stops loving His children. That He'll do whatever it takes (even if it means letting us experience the misery of some hard knocks for a time - the results of our waywardness), to get us back to where we need to be. That He doesn't see us coming and turn away. That, instead, He welcomes us back with open arms. That we will never be able to exasperate or extinguish that incredible, unfathomable love of God. That He is who He is, because all that I am so desperately needs Him to be all that He is.
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