Taste and See

One morning this summer as I stepped across the threshold of a bed and breakfast, I was greeted by the delightful yeasty aroma of warm gooey made-from-scratch cinnamon rolls.  Seeing the thick creamy white frosting on top of the spicy brown bread made them even more inviting.  I knew I was going to enjoy them, and I couldn’t wait to share them with my equally excited children.

There was just one problem: my son is two.

He eyed this delectable dish, didn’t recognize it, and promptly decided he was NOT going to try it.  Imagine having to persuade, cajole, and finally command this small child to eat ONE bite of the sweet cinnamon roll.  I just had to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

And then it hit me.  How often does God offer us an equally exquisite gift, but we fail to recognize its goodness.  He wants the best for us, offers the best to us, and we flatly refuse to enter into his plans.  We, in our “infinitely wise” bout of being a spiritual toddler fail to see or to understand that God’s plans are for our good.

How often life presents us with situations in which we cannot understand the whole picture.  My four‑year‑old is struggling with the idea that even though God is good and powerful, sometimes things happen to us that we do not perceive as good.  Often and again we come back to this, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.”  And why? Because his ways are higher than our ways.  We are not commanded to understand (see Proverbs 3:5), but we are indeed instructed to trust.

In the end, my son had to trust that I had his best interest in mind by commanding him to try the cinnamon roll.  And he had to obey, even though his own inclination was to turn away. 

Far better than cinnamon rolls, infinitely beyond the best food ever prepared, is our God.  He will never disappoint, and he can be utterly trusted.

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!”

When You Just Have To Cry

She’s sitting here in my arms right now.  This four-month-old bundle of blessing and smiles and pudgy lovableness.  But she’s having a hard afternoon.  Tears that only now have stopped.  A cry that breaks your heart open with pity.  A cry that says, “Mama, I hurt, but I can’t explain what’s wrong.  Just hold me.  Be with me.”

And so that’s what I’m doing.  No more cooking, cleaning, working on the “to do” list.  No addressing birth announcements. (Did I mention she’s already 4 months old?) No more sorting out the kid clothes in the basement that are threatening to overwhelm my laundry room.  Just sitting and snuggling. Giving comfort.  Just this morning I was sharing with a friend my discovery of the application of James 4:13-15.  We say, “Today I’m going to get these five things done.”  What we ought to say is, “If the Lord wills, I will get these done.”  Apparently today God wants me to hold my daughter.  “Yes, Lord, and with pleasure.”

But what really made me think was the tenderness evoked by my pitiful child.  How often do we come to God the same way?  “It hurts, and I don’t know how to tell you exactly what’s wrong, but I need your comfort.”

And so He replies:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7-8).

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (II Corinthians 1:3-4).

Thank you, Father, that you love us perfectly.  Thank you for your infinite tenderness and endless supply of comfort.  Thank you that we can cry to you with any trouble, and find in You sufficient grace to meet our every trial.  We come boldly, knowing we can trust your perfect Father love.  If we delight to meet the needs of our children, how much more will you give good gifts to us when we ask.  We cry out to you, God, sometimes with pains that cannot be expressed in words.  And your Spirit helps us in our weakness.  Thank you, Father-God, for this comfort, and for the picture that our needy children present us with when they come to us in tears.  May we mirror your love.  Amen.

And now, blissfully, my daughter is asleep.