Devotion 289, serve

My children are spread out by fourteen long years.  

My youngest is a fairy princess one minute and an elephant tamer the next.  My oldest, he is a counselor, sports caster and fearless defender of truth.  My two middlers are caught between the world of reality and imagination.  They offer us each day a buffet of thoughts both whimsical and worldly. 

 I never, as I sit across from them each morning, know what to expect as their minds traverse the globe.

  

There is something extraordinary about it.  They have none of the worries of this world yet their age dictates they taste the world, its sweetness and its bitterness and we are there to explain and pray.

My son will look at his sister’s Barbie movie and honestly question how she (Barbie) breathes without nostrils.  His ten-year old sister will objectively explain that Barbie is a mouth breather.

My husband and I will look at each other a little shocked that no one has laughed at this point but fiercely wanting to protect the fantasy of this all too real world.

My son will leave the topic of Barbie, walk to the breakfast table and gently toss me his thoughts on a Bible story.  One particular morning he began, “I would have been so angry if I had gone to the trouble of healing ten lepers and only one bothered to say thank you.”

My default strategy when we stroll into the forest of theology is to ask rather than answer questions so I asked my son why he thought only one ran back? 

Beau thought long and hard, dipped into his warm eggs and responded with one word,  “Selfish.”

That evening, I parked the car.  My youngest daughter and I had the rare opportunity to shop by ourselves; normally we are somewhat of a tribe when we go to any store.

I looked trying to figure out why I couldn’t find how to lock the car.  This wasn’t my car.  Twice in one week one of our cars had decided it wanted some time off so I had borrowed my dad’s vehicle.

I walked away; pushing a button that looked like it would lock.  The wind was cold and biting.  I grabbed my daughter’s hand then listened to her little voice say, “thank you for letting me ride in Grandpa’s car.”

I wanted the wind to suddenly blow away my thoughts.  Somewhere in the corner of my heart the word “selfish” floated to the surface.  Hours later I took out my Bible and reread the story of the lepers.  I know this story.  I have taught it in Sunday School.

We count on our fingers with my preschoolers how many lepers come to Jesus for healing and how many come back with thanksgiving.

I somehow vilify the nine.  Who would be so ungrateful I have mused?  Never have I filled in my name.  

You see Jesus does not say, “You are healed.”  He says go to the priests.    The priests were the only ones that could grant lepers the right to begin life again as they knew it, to go home, to work, to raise their heads in society with dignity.

The healing occurs somewhere along that path to the priests.  At the end of the journey, the “healing” would be complete with the priests’ approval.  Nine of them needed that confirmation, only one did not.

That one turned back believing in the healing but also realizing even if just for a moment, he did not have the seeping sores of the repugnant disease.  For that one moment, he wanted to rejoice and praise his Healer.  He could not have known if the healing would be permanent or if the priest would see the miracle, but He stopped to thank the Miracle worker.

I had borrowed my father’s car with complete ingratitude, knowing my gratitude would come when my car was fixed and the bill, hopefully less than I feared, would be paid.  

My daughter, warm and comfortable in her grandfather’s car thanked me for the privilege.  

How many times have I delayed my thank you to my heavenly Father?  I wait until I get confirmation of the repair, of the healing, of the answer.  

I want to stop waiting beloved.  I want to be the one.

I want to be the one that prays with thanksgiving. 

I want to be the one that rises from my prayer and rejoices for His listening ear.

I want to be the one that dances with wild abandon that I have another day to breathe and feel His mercy rain down on my soul.

I want to be the one that finds Him in the broken cars and the healing of broken hearts because I turned around and watched Him work.

I want to be the one that starts to learn selfless instead of selfish.

He is the One who is teaching me.

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.   Col. 3:17