Parents lie to kids. Like about Santa Clause and the rest of the fairy tale bunch. Though I'm not sure about the tooth fairy. I know I never put money under the kids pillows but on the morning after the kids were a buck richer. I asked my wife but she said SHE didn't do it. Hummm. I think I believe her. But she IS a parent. . . .
They lie about other things too. "Try it. You'll like it". They KNEW Brussel sprouts were gross when they put 'em on your plate. What is this thing that parents try to get kids to eat things they would NEVER eat? I fed my kids doughnuts. It was hard enough to get them to like me with out feeding them something that's edible only if hidden deep within a casserole.
"You'll have a wonderful time at Camp. Two weeks with your friends hiking, swimming, bonfires and games! It'll be good for you" mom lied and smiled as she pushed me out the car door. "I thought we were going to McDonalds. . ." I cry. "Oh, well, we'll get there on the way back in 2 weeks darling. Now run along. Your father forgot your backpack and sleeping bag. Just ask around. I'm sure you'll make do. . ." she says as the car peels away. It wasn't wonderful. Or good either. Except for mom and dad. I had a baby brother 9 months later. . .
I'm a quiet and shy person and that came out at camp. I got picked on. And made fun of, the butt of a really embarrassing practical joke. As a little kid there are no odd or strange kids, just boy or girl kids. Pretty much all the same. But at some point they figure out that others are different and that some how some are more normal or acceptable than others. I'm not near smart enough to figure out that dynamic but I do know where I was on the totem pole that summer. The bottom. The part underground bottom.
Different was what I was but not odd. Shoot, probably half the kids out there are sorta shy. But I was the target then. I don't know when I decided in my life to be "normal" and un-picked-on-able (it's a word now) but I suspect it was around this time. I decided to do nothing that put me outside the normal range. Well, I don't remember consciously deciding this but on a gut level this is what happened. And it ruined me.
I had breakfast with a friend the other day. He loves Jesus. I like that. I'm glad I know some people who Love Jesus. I love Jesus. Maybe better stated is I like Jesus. I like Him a lot but on most days I don't think it crosses into that love category. I don't want to go full on love in case someone is watching. Wouldn't want to be thought of as not. . .normal. Yep. That's me, Mr. lukewarm, living fat and happy in the land of Laodocea. Fact is I have several friends who aren't embarrassed to be embarrassed for the Gospel. They're not afraid to tell people that Jesus loves them, no matter the response. It doesn't matter because they love him. They gave up father and mother, brother and sister, home and inheritance to follow Jesus. They're weird. They're not normal.They are what I always wanted to be. A Jesus freak.
I want to be one. But I'm scared.
I appreciate your openness and honesty, Mark. The fact is that if we are satisfied with where we are with Jesus then we're in worse shape than being lukewarm. Keep asking Him to give you that fire for Him and He sure will!!
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