Praise be to the Lord, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him. The Lord is the strength of his people, a fortress of salvation for his anointed one. Save your people and bless your inheritance; be their shepherd and carry them forever. (Psalm 28:7-9)
Yesterday,
I responded to a comment on Facebook that suggested that a parent's first (and
only?) priority in life should be tending to the needs of his/her child. I
pointed out that there are needs, and there are felt needs. A child may be
absolutely sure she needs a dragon or another candy bar. They may throw
themselves down in the grocery store aisle and scream, and nothing short of
giving them what they want is going to be enough, especially if they have been
rewarded for their temper tantrums in the past. Even bargaining isn’t likely to
work.
And
this morning, I opened my Bible to Psalm 28, in which David, in his familiar
way, first cries for God’s help, then thanks Him for it. And I see two things.
First, I see myself in David’s cries for mercy, strength, and protection but
not in celebrating what he received. In fact, I see in myself the child
throwing itself down in the grocery aisle. Of course, I’m too mature and
dignified for that. But I have this need, and isn’t it God’s first and only
priority in life tending to my needs? He promised He would meet our needs, so where
is the dragon or piece of candy? Ouch.
I also notice that God doesn’t often step in and do something spectacular.
He’s supposed to be our strength, shield, and help, so where is He? But
again, we’re back to the grocery store aisle. Drama is the name of the game. I cry
for help, and God puts kale, milk, eggs, flour, and butter in the cart, but
none of what I wanted. None of the drama I wanted from Him. Jesus taught
about faith the size of a mustard seed, but we’ve seen the movies with huge
sets and budgets in the millions. How can mustard seed faith – um – cut the
mustard?
Granted,
since God is omnipotent, a small exertion of strength is a major miracle. It’s probably
only because He’s God that a small response doesn’t destroy the whole universe.
But the thing that came to mind today is that we tend to think that big is what’s
needed. The strength we think God needs to display is on the level of a nuclear
bomb, not a whispered, “Don’t do it.” But what if the whisper is all the
strength we need and our failures come when we don’t use it?
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