I used to work with a guy who loved to play with his three-year-old son, Jeremiah. Jeremiah had a motorized little pick-up truck he loved to drive around the neighborhood. He was proud of his skill as a driver and loved to show how well he could handle that little truck. But like most kids, he’d get distracted, mesmerized by the bug on the sidewalk, the neighbor’s dog, or the wave of a friend.
When his attention was distracted, little Jeremiah would steer off of the road. When he’d steer too far, his daddy (ever-present and nearby) would reach out, turn the wheel to correct it, and Jeremiah would shout, “I can do it, Daddy!!” and push his daddy’s hand away to begin to drive again without Daddy’s help.
Sound familiar? I don’t know about you, but I’ve shouted a few “I can do it, Daddy!” in my day. Making my own path, my own way, and gotten distracted by something, and just like little Jeremiah, who would surely crash into the next mailbox without Daddy’s steadying hand, I’ve crashed and burned trying to do it on my own.
If Jeremiah were to skin a knee or bump his head, Daddy would pick him up, wipe him off, kiss his hurts, bandage his wounds, and give him the support to begin again.
God is that kind of daddy.
He is careful with us when we’ve spiritually crashed and have wounds to be healed. So much so that David writes in Psalm 56 that God as Daddy actually keeps track of the number of tears we cry and holds them in a bottle.
I guess as Jeremiah gets older, he will realize he really did need Daddy’s help after all. I know I’ve come to know that I need God’s understanding, and I’m replacing the “I can do it, Daddy!” with the admission “I can’t do it without you, Daddy God!”
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