My vision was blurry as I blinked the gritty sand away. As I did, I heard the little voice say, “Are you mad, are you mad, are you mad?” As I opened my eyes I saw her–the curly haired 4 year old shaking and cowering as she repeated the question.
“Oh, sweetie–I’m not mad.”
She didn’t look up, trembling still.
I gently touched her arms, “Sweet girl, will you look at my face?”
Her gaze remained lowered, and I asked again.
“Please look at my face.”
She looked up.
“Do I look mad?”
She shook her head no, uncertainly.
“I’m not mad, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean to throw the sand–My eyes are okay. God made our eyes where we can blink the sand away. I’m okay–we’re okay.”
She slowly re-entered into play, picking up the toy and tossing it back into the sandbox.
This is a story from my playroom–a story of a child who has been hurt by the brokenness in the world. And her emotions and interpretations of things are off the mark from what is true (sometimes). But she is too little to know when or how the stories she tells herself are not true. She needs the help of an adult who can see bigger and know more with gentle ability to help her interpret things rightly.
I’ve played this scene over and over again in my mind–sad for this little girl, and sad for why it resonates for me, too.
I often feel like this little girl. I walk around so afraid of making a mistake. So afraid of doing the wrong thing. Wanting desperately to live free–to run and dance and play…but when I do, sometimes sand gets thrown.
I’m afraid of not knowing how to do the right thing. Desperately trying to figure out how to be mastered at something I don’t really know how to do.
I’m afraid that when I miss things or when I make a mistake (not even a sin), God is disappointed in me–angry at me.
Big and furious and loudly angry.
And when I do sin, it’s much worse–I deserve punishment, don’t I?
There is something that echoes in my soul that knows I wasn’t made for that.
And yet, Jesus.
As I stand before my maker, I am seen. I am His child–His beloved–the crown of His creation He designed, with beauty and purpose. He calls what He made wonderful when He looks at me.
As I stand before God, I am seen as righteous, clean, a new creation–because of Christ. Christ is the bridge between me and my Holy God, covering my sins–sending them away from me as far as the east is from the west, so that I can keep looking the Lord straight in the face.
He is a patient coach who doesn’t expect me to know more than I do–or to figure out things on my own. He wants to teach me–He teaches me through His word, and when I spend time talking with Him in prayer. He gifts me people and experiences to do things with and take risks and to live; and when things go sideways, He reminds me He is always with me and that He will show me how to pivot.
I don’t have to cower–I get to run to Him and look Him in the face and allow Him to wipe away my tears. He doesn’t expect me to be Him–He expects me to follow Him. And though my sins hurt Him, He is never not choosing me. And as I look Him in the eye, He says, “Kiddo, you didn’t know what you were doing–I love you. Try again. Try it different. Do it like me.”
Psalm 3: 3
But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,
my glory, and the lifter of my head.
This verse reminds me that with God, I am gifted the ability to look Him in the face.
I need to look Him in the face.
And I need His help to do that.
Something I am learning to do is to fear God more than I fear people.
To fear God more than I allow the voice of shame to bully me back to the cowered position.
And rather, to take my rightful place tucked into the arms of the King that calls me His child.
To remember that His love is not the conditional kind, but One that moved mountains to keep loving me.
To remember that His face isn’t cold or angry or unkind–it is inviting and full of joy. When I turn to Him in prayer, asking Him for help with the things that are too big for me, His heart is warmed because I am acting in faith as the child I am.
When I turn from my sin and ask Him for forgiveness–He helps me remember that He forgave me a long time ago and is so proud of me for saying the truth–and for turning to live the way that He wants me to live. In freedom and in grace.
Fear of God isn’t the kind that makes us shudder and hide.
It makes us shudder and run towards.
Matthew 7:11
If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!
I am baffled, often, at the kindness of God to allow me to do the things I do. I love my work–I love getting to care for kiddos and get windows into their hearts and minds and to have some fraction of a sense of what to do with that and how to help. In some ways, the pains I experienced and the pain I hold inside helps me do that better. I feel with children in a way that perhaps most don’t. And as I care for them, He cares for me and is healing me in the midst of doing something as simple as playing with a child in the sandbox.
What a strange job.
What an interesting life.
What a sweet Savior.
Sincerely, Crystal 