Daddy, I Broke It

It went high and outside.  I watched the tennis ball which I'd aimed at the front steps veer terribly off course and head for the one place it was not supposed to go...an 80 year old leaded glass window.  It hit the window.  Of course.  It broke the window.  Of course.

What makes it more fun is that the previous week my dad told me...clearly...to NOT throw the tennis ball at the front steps, as an errant throw could hit and break the leaded glass window.  In my 14-year old mind, I knew my control and mastery over that ball and there was no way I'd allow that to happen.  And there I stood looking at a broken window. 

Where does your brain go in that situation?  Repentance?  Anger?  Despair?  Well, my  teenage mind clicked immediately into damage control mode.  I quickly reasoned that no outcome would end well for me.  (This is my public school-trained brain at work).  Immediately I considered my options to select the least painful.

If I could just fix it...even half-way... maybe no one would notice?   No, I didn't take Mastering Antique Window Repair in shop class.  Running away from home seemed like a bad long-term idea and was quickly discarded.   Apparently no one inside heard the window break, so I could try ignoring it and play stupid (which, by the way, is one of my spiritual gifts).  But with no other suspects, I'd be convicted on the circumstantial evidence, and sentenced to extra time for the cover-up.  Alas, my weekly allowance did not allow for hiring a high-profile lawyer to provide a vigorous legal (by reason of insanity?) defense.

It occurred to me my best option was to suck it up and self-report before anyone else noticed.   Understand that had I any other option beside self-confession, I'd have taken it.  It wasn't like I was looking for the holiest choice, but the least painful choice.  It's just that honesty with my dad seemed to be my best long-term option. 

After a deep breath, I ran inside the house, found my dad and confessed I had done the very thing he had told me not to do.  And I broke the thing he'd asked me not to break.  And I apologized for not obeying him.

He was so stunned at my forthrightness that he just looked at me and told me not to do it again and that was that.  Our home was a government-owned house, so the next day he picked up the phone and called the maintenance staff which sent out a fellow who fixed it.  (If you're a US taxpayer, that was on you.  Thanks for your support.)

Who knew that a broken window 40 years ago could transform my life today?  I find myself repeating those same words over and over to my heavenly father:  "Daddy, I broke it."  And his response is always the same to me..."Come here, sit on my lap.  I'll fix it."

You ever broke a toy and took it to an adult who said, "It's OK, sit here on my lap and I'll fix it."  That's the voice of God.  That's what he does.  

Jesus told me to be perfect as his heavenly father is perfect.  That's the standard.   And I am not displaying false humility...I am being as honest as the day is long when I say that I am completely on the opposite side of the spectrum.  

I was born selfish.  As a child, I practiced the art of selfishness through much trial and error.  As a teenager, I refined it.  As an adult, I perfected it.  My thoughts are selfish.  My motivations are selfish.  Writing this blog is probably selfish.  Using Jesus as the standard, I am so selfish, I can't even tell when I'm not being selfish.  Honestly, if the high bar of perfection is set at ten feet, I can't even clear a quarter-inch.

I'm sorry to use a graphic illustration here, but I believe it to be 100% accurate.  Imagine you're a high jumper and you've been told that you need to leap over the ten foot high bar, or you'll face eternal death.  Oh, one more important item.  Every bone in your body is severely broken.

Leap the bar?  You can't even crawl to the bar.  That's the impossible situation we're in.

Thank God I don't have to clear the bar.  Thank God, I can rely on Jesus who has cleared it for me.

So my desire is rightfully turned away from trying to fulfill an impossible task, and instead turned to a relationship with Jesus who cleared it for me.  But my selfish heart wanders back to that bar.

Bar leaping is simply law keeping.  The allure of the law is that I think it allows me save myself and justify myself.  And even if I could keep the Ten Commandments as written (I can't),  I'd still fail because as Jesus pointed out, they demand not only perfect physical compliance, but perfect spiritual motivation.  I'm at Game Over before I can even press Start.

So, what in hell am I doing trying to justify myself through works?  (I mean that literally.)

Oh, and there's more bad news.  Not only are we selfish and prone to wandering the wrong ways, we are also set up to completely fail.  There's a world out there looking to entice us away from God.  (If you don't believe me, pick up any newspaper).  And there's a sneaky, lying bunch of demons who know our weaknesses and are using those to lure us away from God.

Our flesh and the world and the enemies of God all offer us a tempting path called "sin."  Sin is simply a way of doing something that God would disagree with.  Not because God is a killjoy, but because sin is harmful to us.  Like any good parent, God is looking out for my best interest.   

Yet I'm still lured in sin's direction because it promises freedom.  It promises life, excitement and a thrill.  Today it's badass.  Tomorrow, it's B.A.D.A.S.S.   Though it promises much, sin always delivers Bondage And Death And Suffering Sorrow.

Though my mind knows this, that alone won't stop me from chasing sin.  Isn't that weird?  I know before I start that it's both harmful for me and for others and I do it anyway because I'm too selfish to care. I don't need awareness of sin.  I have that and that doesn't help.  I need someone to pull me away and free me from it.  

I need someone who sees through my facade and into my core...who can detect when I'm wavering or when I've already run away...who can shake me and break through my wall of selfishness and point me to help.  And I need...after I've disobeyed and broken the window...someone to run to...who'll tell me, "It's OK.  Sit here on my lap.  I'll fix it."

I have that now.  I have the spirit of God tapping me on the shoulder many times daily, telling me I'm wandered off course and something's broken.  And I turn, and there's my heavenly father reaching down for me.  And he's not angry.  He's serene.  He's smiling.  He understands my situation better than I do.  He knows I was born rebellious and waits for me to agree with him about my shortcomings and turn his way because he loves me and wants a real and intimate relationship with me.  He's looking for closeness as the best father would want with his child.

And again it's decision time.  Like the boy who just broke the window, I consider my options. Run away?  Ignore it?  Justify it?  Try to fix it (as if I could)?  Not this time.

I look into God's eyes and say the same thing that that I've told him a hundred times this last week.  Something so completely obvious, it doesn't need to be said.  But it must be said, because even though he doesn't need to hear it, I do.  "Daddy, I broke it."  And he sweeps me up in his arms and looks it over. And in my heart I hear it again.  

"It's OK.  You just sit here on my lap.  I'll fix it."

 

 

 

 

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.