Risking the Rocking Chair.

The sixteen month old I know as "beautiful Ella" is walking. Taking about five and six steps at a time before she plops back down on the floor.

One of her favorite activities, right now, is to crawl up on a white, plastic rocking chair in the living room of her parents' home. The chair looks like one of those office waiting room chairs from the 1960's or 70's. The thing is not all that stable.

But Ella likes to crawl up on it and rock -while standing up!

Mom and Dad have warned her about this. Encouraged her to sit down. "On the bottom," they say. "Sit on your bottom." But the view is more exciting, and the rocking is more pronounced, when she pulls herself up on the plastic chair with the low sides, and stands.

Life is an exercise in risk taking, isn't it? And one of the most frustrating things for a parent is not being able to protect our children from themselves. You know the risk...you can see the accident waiting to happen...but the toddler sees only the excitement of what they want to do.

Sometimes we are able to warn the people we love and know away from a decision or course of action that is going to bring all kinds of pain their way. They listen to the warnings. They are "teachable." But so often we refuse to listen...to be coached...and we say, "I'll do it myself. I'll figure this out myself. I'll try this on for size myself." What usually results is pain. Bumps and bruises. Maybe a trip to the ER. Certainly tears. This is "learning the hard way" and it seems to be the learning option of choice for many of us.

Sometimes, unfortunately, experience is the best teacher. But the lessons can be harsh.

Jesus warned a rich, young man that if he held onto his wealth....if he continued to value money over God and relationships...he was going to be miserable. But the man wouldn't believe Jesus. He chose to hang onto money as the defining reality of his life.

Being a parent can be tough, you know? We love...we want to protect...but when you give life you release a new generation to learn lessons. You turn them loose to exercise their freedom. Sometimes they choose well... and sometimes they fall, get hurt, and end up running to you.

God knows something about having kids who insist on doing things their way...learning the hard way. I wonder if he has ever revisited his decision, in those first moments of creation, to give his sons and daughters the gift of freewill.

Sit down on the rocking chair, Ella. Sit down, please. I don't want to see you hurt. Grandpa doesn't want to see you hurt. Please.

New Creation and Jump Ropes.

God has a way of stretching us. In some surprising ways. Some of the stretching is painful beyond belief. A job loss. Unanswered prayers (at least they're not answered in the ways we want them answered!) The break up of a relationship. And other times the stretching is surprising... an easy blessing...that makes us smile and shake our heads in disbelief.

At our church we -like many- we have a mid week program. We call it TNT. Which sounds kind of silly and a little explosive. (TNT stands for "Trinity Night Together.") There is a meal...worship time...classes. One element every Wednesday night is an "open gym" for elementary age children. Kids from inside the church and outside the church (our church and neighborhood have sort of blended together so I'm not sure where each starts and stops).

Tonight I went into the gym to hang out with the kids. Those few minutes are a blast! Some of the 3rd and 4th grade girls turned to me and thrust a jump rope in my hand...asked me to swing it around so they could jump.

I had a basketball in one hand...I thought I was going into the gym to shoot hoops with the boys. But I swung the jump rope. And there was a lot of concentrated joy in that place...and it sort of soaked into me.

They don't tell you in seminary that you are going to end up playing jump rope with 2nd, 3rd and 4th graders. It might be a good idea if they did. It might be a good idea if they told us that carrying a cross will be heart crushing on some days, but there will be moments when some little girl with pigtails will grab us by the arm and say, "Pastor Mark, hold the rope and swing it for us!"

I'd never -in all my years- really swung a jump rope like that. It felt a little...uh...different. But good.

God keeps teaching me new lessons. Some hard. And some delightfully easy.