Clothe the Little Ones in Your Colors

When this picture of Juliana was made, she was not quite three months old.  You might find it amazing that, at such a young age, she has already chosen the university she will support and for which she will wear team apparel.  The truth is, she hasn’t actually chosen a college yet.  Her parents decided that their love for Clemson is so clear and strong that they will actually dress their child in it.  One day, Juliana will choose a college for herself.  It may be Clemson.  It may be the one you’d pick for her.  But she is going to grow up knowing what team her parents love. 

I’ve heard some parents say, “I’m not going to involve my child in any particular religion. I want them to be free to choose when they’re old enough to understand.” When I hear that, I want to ask parents, “Do you know Jesus?  Do you love Jesus?  If you do, you will want to raise your child, from day one, knowing who you love and live for.  One day, each child will make a choice about following Jesus.  Some will choose to follow Him.  Others will not.  But if you believe Jesus is the Savior of the world, the one way to salvation, the Lord we can follow to an abundant life, then don’t you want your child to come to his or her choice knowing as much as they can about the Christ you love?  Shouldn’t they grow up clothed in your love for Christ?

No, our youngest children don’t understand everything about the Christian faith, but they are having their first and foundational experiences that profoundly shape the way they see life, themselves, other people, and God.  So, we bring the little children to Jesus. We clothe them in our colors to prepare them to make the best choice about Him.  

A Tough Question God Asked Me

I want to tell you about a tough question God has asked me.  I could take you to the very place where I first sensed it.  We wouldn’t have to go very far.  I was sitting at the desk in the pastor’s study of this church.  I hadn’t been here very long.  I’d unpacked all my boxes of books and sermons and files.  I’d hung my pictures on the walls, put my guitars in the closet and my Andy Griffith Show DVDs on the shelf.  I was here.  But as I sat at my desk that day, staring into a computer screen and struggling to focus my heart on the work I’d come here to do, I realized that part of me was far away, about a hundred miles away, to be precise.  As much as I’d wanted to leave them behind, I’d brought with me some deep wounds, nightmarish memories of the most hurtful experience I’d known in more than thirty years of ministry.  I’d talked to friends, colleagues, and mentors in an effort to unpack some of my thoughts and feelings and, hopefully, begin a healing process.  Those steps were good, but still I felt stuck.  Too many thoughts and feelings focused on apologies I was owed, people who needed to be held accountable, and second-guessing every word I said and choice I’d made during that ordeal.  It was like a bad song you hear on the radio and can’t get out of your head.  As I sat there, with one foot in the present and the other stuck in the miry clay of the past, God posed a question to me.  This one didn’t come through a lecture or a friend’s testimony.  I was alone with God when He asked,

What do you want to do with the rest of your life?

I’m not the world’s greatest goal-setter or plan-maker, so my first answer was an honest, “I don’t know.” God, the Wonderful Counselor, pointed me toward a place where I could begin to build an answer.  

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life doing this; trying to fix the past, waiting for others to repent of their ways, beating your head against an emotional brick wall, or do you want something better?” 

“I really do want something better,” I answered.

“What pieces of that better life can you see?” 

“I want you serve You here with my whole heart.

I want to do the best preaching I’ve ever done.

I want to enjoy my family, my children, my grandchildren.

I’ve never written a book.  I think I have something to say.

I’ve never been on a foreign mission trip.  I can do that here.”

That day, that question, those first steps toward an answer, were a turning point in my life.  

I don’t take your hurts lightly.  I understand your desire to make bad times make sense, to somehow feel a great wrong has been made right, to finally feel closure of an opened wound. 

I’m not God, but God is here.  And I believe, with all my heart, that He wants your life to be about today’s joys and tomorrow’s dreams much more than yesterday’s hurts.  And, as He sees you stuck in the past with time slipping away like water through your fingers, He may be here to ask you what He asked me, to turn your heart away from a past stained by others’ sins toward a future waiting to be created by His love.  Hurting friend, “What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”