I have seen a small boy drive a car through a tunnel of legs, a smattering of commands and admonitions, a minefield of competing distractions, and numerous tempting alternatives with serene obliviousness to all of it.
At that moment, the car has become the universe for this small boy. It is the author and finisher of his entire existence.
It holds absolute sway over his emotions and actions, blinding his eyes, deafening his ears, bending his knees, and driving him to forsake all others and worship at its shiny, rolling altar.
At such times I have marveled at the power of such a small thing--that when given the choice between the attentions of his loving mother and a few moments with a cheap toy, he would devote his absolute and undivided attention to a 99 cent chunk of rubber and steel.
And it doesn't have to be a car. Sometimes it is a book, or a movie, or an imaginary kingdom of the mind that captures my child and moves me from the epicenter of love, life, instruction, correction, and affection in his life to the distant edges of his mental universe where I rotate slowly, emitting a dim light and a voice like Charlie Brown's mother.
This phenomenon isn't malicious. It usually isn't even volitional, but it also isn't a healthy lifestyle as it can lead to poor grades, a filthy room, hungry pets, missed opportunities, bad smells, cavities, and death.
I was pondering this recently as I marveled over the fact that several of my children (who usually put a premium on an opportunity to eat food) chose to ignore three calls to dinner and the threat of an early bedtime because they could not hear my voice over the whine of a new remote control car.
"Hmm," I thought.
"Did they not hear me?"
"Did they hear me, but not take me seriously?"
"Did they hear me and take me seriously but prefer this diversion over a hearty meal?"
"Did they value this diversion over food to the point that they would welcome a long and certain consequence just to enjoy a few more moments of pleasure with a shiny distraction?"
Yes. They didn't. And they did. And they did. And they would.
And so I walked over and picked up the car.
Suddenly I had every eye in the room, and at this point I had several reactions from the squirrels.
One child stared at me with a look of genuine surprise on this face. He was not upset, simply surprised--as if he were attempting to process a confusing event or trying to drift back toward the sound of my voice from a very great distance. It did not appear from his slack-jawed, blank-eyed stare that he had any idea about what had been asked of him or why his car was now up in the air spinning its wheels in my hand.
A second child sprang up like he was on a bed of hot coals, a look of guilty shame on his face. He instantly ditched his remote and scuttled toward the kitchen dropping mumbled apologies along the way. This one DID appear to have heard my instructions, and perhaps intended to obey, but had been distracted and lost track of time.
A third child stood up, squared her shoulders, roared her disagreement, and announced her intention to play on, giving full vent to her anger and disgust at being so rudely interrupted by anyone or anything.
She had heard my voice (probably all three times), considered my request, and summarily tossed me to the curb. If she had been big enough I have no doubt that her evening would have included me being bound and gagged and locked in my room whilst she drove cars until either they ran out of batteries or she did.
It struck me that my position of power and authority in our home (that of benevolent dictator) provides a unique training platform for my growing children, and 18 years of practice at listening and submitting to an older, wiser, more powerful, but always loving voice--one which has their best interests at heart and would (and does) lay down her life for them each and every day.
How they respond to that voice is their business, although that decision does not reside in a vacuum and will, to some extent, determine the trajectory of their lives.
Although I took the same initial action (removing the vehicle from play) in the lives of each of the three children who failed to show up for dinner, I modified my secondary response based on the reactions and attitudes I saw from them.
Now I don't have a perfect window into my children's motivations, but from my observations, Child A truly was deafened by the diversion, and once his situation was altered enough to hear my voice, he showed genuine surprise and an intention to quickly align himself with my plans for him.
Child B held slightly more culpability in that he HAD heard me, but had engaged in that universal human tendency to INTEND to do what was right...as soon as this project/game/activity was finished.
In this case, his intentions were good, but the timing was not, and a removal of the car was all it took for the work of repentance to take hold, and an apology and refocusing soon happened.
In the case of Child C, there was no question that not only was I heard, but I was violently rejected, my terms were deemed unacceptable, my timing was scorned, and my consequences were met with flashing eyes and a raised fist.
In this small interaction the same infraction required three different responses from me.
In one, a gentle reminder, a commendation for quick obedience, and assurance that all was forgiven.
In another, a caution not to push aside my instructions and a promise that the car would be returned the following day if the child could show listening ears and a willing heart during dinner clean-up and bedtime prep.
The third involved much sorrow for the parent and escalating losses for a child who would not bend the knee until her world fell down around her ears. In fact, our size differential and the gap in our relative power were the only things that kept her from her quest for my overthrow and her eventual world domination.
As it was, she was rescued from the tyranny of her temper by being removed to the safety and solitude of her bed, where she quickly fell asleep--but not before she lost all the ground she was fighting for, plus dinner.
Here is what I know about this situation:
1). My kids need to be fed regularly to keep them strong and healthy.
2). This needs to happen at a certain time to ensure that they are able to get to bed on time--another crucial element of their proper functioning and growth.
3). I made my children a nutritious dinner in a timely manner and called them to it. The rest of the family was also waiting for them to show up so that we could eat and visit together. The whole thing was intended as a blessing, but my sweet ones were too preoccupied to come, so I had to remove the distraction to reorient their gaze.
What happened after I did that was different for each child because their motivations for ignoring me were all different.
My heart toward every one of them was tender and loving, but my duty toward them was orchestrated by their own choices. My job as a parent is to train them to be responsible, kind, considerate, loving, and receptive to those who have rightful authority over them and respectful to those who have their best interests at heart.
And sometimes that requires a hard line.
It is my least favorite part of parenting. I wish I never had to allow or orchestrate consequences for my children that make them feel bad or angry. I wish they would just trust me, listen to me, and enjoy the good things I want to give them.
But sometimes they don't. And it breaks my heart.
On some level, isn't that what we do to God when He speaks to us? "I love you," He says, "Why won't you stop and listen to my voice?"
Or maybe, "Don't do that. It will hurt you."
Or, "It's not time for that. You need to wait for a while."
Or, "Come away from your play. I have something better over here, made just for you by my hand for your nourishment and edification."
"Look up, Child," he says.
But we are too busy with our matchbox cars and paper dolls to hear him.
Or we hear Him and quickly forget.
Or we throw him an icy stare and play on.
And He bends down and picks up our toys, lifts our chins, and speaks straight into our eyes.
Listen! I love you too much to let you settle for lesser things.
Too much to let you push away my care for you.
Too much to let you destroy yourself with selfishness and anger.
Of course, every time our plans are interrupted, it is not because we are ignoring God's voice.
Sometimes it has nothing to do with discipline at all. It is just a twist in the road that we could not see from our limited vantage point--a chance for God to give us grace, or show us mercy, or sanctify our spirits.
Sometimes it isn't even about us. Sometimes a Divine interruption is the avenue through which God will bless others, and we receive the double kindness of being both the loved and the lover as He moves us into a specific place of ministry.
But sometimes God does take all our pretty things as an act of love and discipline in order to bring us back to Himself. And when your playthings disappear, it cannot hurt to ask yourself if perhaps you had given them first place in your heart.
Perhaps He needed to stride into your living room and pick up your spinning car to get your attention.
Perhaps you had forgotten His rightful place in your heart and He loves you too much to let you be satisfied with lesser things.
Where it goes from there is dependent on how you respond to His voice.
We can choose to live Psalm 199:102-104
"…I have not turned aside from Your ordinances, For You Yourself have taught me. How sweet are Your words to my taste! Yes, sweeter than honey to my mouth! From Your precepts I get understanding; Therefore I hate every false way."
Or the slightly harder road of 2Corinthians 7: 9-10
"And now I rejoice, not because you were made sorrowful, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you felt the sorrow that God had intended, and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation without regret, but worldly sorrow brings death."
Or we can bring on the heartache of Psalm 81:11-13, 16
"My people did not listen to My voice, and Israel did not obey Me. So I gave them over to the stubbornness of their heart, to walk in their own devices. Oh that My people would listen to Me, that Israel would walk in My ways!...I would feed you with the finest of the wheat and with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.”
Oh that I wouldn't be the girl who pulls her world down around her ears just so she can say she is queen of her own destiny!
I have been there! Too often:(
And so, I am sad to say, have my kiddos. Trust me when I say that that kind of power is not worth the two minute illusion of omnipotence you get to experience before you lose your stuff and are carried off to bed;)
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Psalm 95:7-8
" For He is our God, And we are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand. Today, if you would hear His voice, Do not harden your hearts."
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