Even Better
Last month, I wrote about how being a dad has helped me see how sometimes I can be a baby before God, in that I fuss about an immediate inconvenience without having the perspective that perhaps God is using that inconvenience to prepare something even better for me. I have kept that thought in my head, and I think as I’ve used that viewpoint to help me be a more patient parent, I am better understanding God’s perspective.
For example, sometimes Jada will cry when she wants her last bottle of the night and I’m slow in giving it to her because I first want to change her, make sure the bottle is the right temperature, and get her bed prepared. So I’ll gently tell her, “You want the bottle now, but I want to give you something even better: a bottle that is the right temperature, a dry set of clothes, and a bed that is all ready for you to sleep all night long in.” My way out of feeling impatient (not that I always take the way) is to remember that she’s just a baby, and doesn’t understand. But no matter that she doesn’t understand; I can still take the crying and still take delight in taking my time with the bottle, because I know that while I might not be giving her what she’s immediately asking for, I’m preparing something even better.
And so it is with God, I think. Though He wants us to mature beyond infancy, He’s still big enough to take our occasional wailing, because He takes delight that as we fuss, still He’s preparing something even better. And ultimately, that’s what brings the most pleasure to a Father’s heart.
Last month, I wrote about how being a dad has helped me see how sometimes I can be a baby before God, in that I fuss about an immediate inconvenience without having the perspective that perhaps God is using that inconvenience to prepare something even better for me. I have kept that thought in my head, and I think as I’ve used that viewpoint to help me be a more patient parent, I am better understanding God’s perspective.
For example, sometimes Jada will cry when she wants her last bottle of the night and I’m slow in giving it to her because I first want to change her, make sure the bottle is the right temperature, and get her bed prepared. So I’ll gently tell her, “You want the bottle now, but I want to give you something even better: a bottle that is the right temperature, a dry set of clothes, and a bed that is all ready for you to sleep all night long in.” My way out of feeling impatient (not that I always take the way) is to remember that she’s just a baby, and doesn’t understand. But no matter that she doesn’t understand; I can still take the crying and still take delight in taking my time with the bottle, because I know that while I might not be giving her what she’s immediately asking for, I’m preparing something even better.
And so it is with God, I think. Though He wants us to mature beyond infancy, He’s still big enough to take our occasional wailing, because He takes delight that as we fuss, still He’s preparing something even better. And ultimately, that’s what brings the most pleasure to a Father’s heart.
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