September 19, 2008
-
He Wants to Comfort
You
by Max LucadoMy
child's feelings are hurt. I tell her she's special. My child is injured. I do
whatever it takes to make her feel better.My
child is afraid. I won't go to sleep until she is secure.I'm
not a hero. I'm not a superstar. I'm not unusual. I'm a parent. When a child
hurts, a parent does what comes naturally. He helps.And
after I help, I don't charge a fee. I don't ask for a favor in return. When my
child cries, I don't tell her to buck up, act tough, and keep a stiff upper
lip. Nor do I consult a list and ask her why she is still scraping the same
elbow or waking me up again.I'm
not a prophet, nor the son of one, but something tells me that in the whole
scheme of things the tender moments described above are infinitely more
valuable than anything I do in front of a computer screen or congregation.
Something tells me that the moments of comfort I give my child are a small
price to pay for the joy of someday seeing my daughter do for her daughter what
her dad did for her.Moments
of comfort from a parent. As a father, I can tell you they are the sweetest
moments in my day. They come naturally. They come willingly. They come
joyfully.If
all of that is true, if I know that one of the privileges of fatherhood is to
comfort a child, then why am I so reluctant to let my heavenly Father comfort
me?Why
do I think he wouldn't want to hear about my problems? ("They are puny
compared to people starving in India.")Why
do I think he is too busy for me? ("He's got a whole universe to worry
about.")Why
do I think he's tired of hearing the same old stuff?Why
do I think he groans when he sees me coming?Why
do I think he consults his list when I ask for forgiveness and asks,
"Don't you think you're going to the well a few too many times on this
one?"Why
do I think I have to speak a holy language around him that I don't speak with
anyone else?Why
do I not take him seriously when he questions, "If you, then, though you
are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your
Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:11)Why
don't I let my Father do for me what I am more than willing to do for my own
children?I'm
learning, though. Being a parent is better than a course on theology. Being a
father is teaching me that when I am criticized, injured, or afraid, there is a
Father who is ready to comfort me. There is a Father who will hold me until I'm
better, help me until I can live with the hurt, and who won't go to sleep when
I'm afraid of waking up and seeing the dark.Ever.
And that's enough.
From
The
Applause of Heaven
© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1999) Max Lucado
