Of Boys and Toys...

Peace reigns in the house. The only sounds which break the beautiful silence are the contented murmurings of little boys playing trucks together. I am holding my breath and crossing my fingers as I head back upstairs to start the supper dishes. Maybe this whole 'playing together until bedtime' thing will actually work? I wonder hopefully.

But such is not to be the case. Angry shouting and lugubrious wails begin to drift up from the basement, demanding immediate attention from a certain babysitter. Me.

As I stand in the doorway taking in the whole situation, I feel a thoughtful smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. There's something oddly amusing about selfish human nature when it surfaces in lively little boys--pathetic in a way, but also amusing.

The two young gents before me were each intent on proving that he was the one who had been woefully wronged by his pesky brother. I was greeted, amid much racket, by two lovely sets of healthy tonsils, the owners of which were roaring angrily, heads thrown back to give additional volume and add to the dramatic effect.

It was eventually ascertained that a certain younger brother had stolen the very same red Lego that a certain older brother was just preparing to put to honorable use in the construction of his lovely rendition of the Eiffel tower. Tragic, certainly. But not for the reasons they expected. Both youngsters were sent off to brush their teeth in preparation for bed while pondering the virtue of selflessness, and I returned to the kitchen where the dishes were still waiting, shaking my head laughingly, and wondering why it is that little boys and girls are so often unable to see the beautiful personalities God has placed in their siblings.

As the water started sudsing in the sink, I was struck by the realization that it's not just little boys and girls who are blind to the beauty in people around them. How many times have I myself failed to recognize or appreciate the awesome imprint of God's image as it appears in the men and women that He brings into my life?

I plopped a stack of plates into the soapy water, and began to scrub. What is it that keeps us from being intimate with the people around us? What comes in the way of genuine fellowship? What makes it so difficult to recognize and appreciate the boundless value of each and every person? I raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

James 4:1 popped into my mind: "Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure which war in your members?"

All too often I am unable to appreciate others because I am so intent on achieving my own pleasure, of proving my own significance. My drive to be important, or to feel loved and appreciated, comes between me and the true blessing of God-glorifying fellowship and honest friendship that God intends for each of His beloved children.

A lesson from Focus on the Family's "Truth Project" emerged from the memory archives of my mind. Del Tackett had been musing on the tragedy of Saul's relationship with David, lamenting the fact that Saul's hunger for significance and human praise destroyed a potentially beautiful bond between the two of them. In closing, he turned to the class and asked, "Can you be willing, and joyfully willing, to lose your significance?"

Oof. That's tough. Joyfully insignificant? I bit my lower lip as I built my own rendition of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in the dish drainer. Tough, yes. But if my true significance comes from my worth in God's eyes, then I am foolish to think that His love, His affirmation, and His acceptance is not enough. In fact, it is worse than foolish--it is the equivalent of prostitution to say to God, "You are not enough," and to look elsewhere for the fulfillment that He is so willing to bountifully give me. He is the true Lover of my soul. He has made me for Himself, and He alone can bring satisfaction, significance, and healing into my life.

I breathe in deeply as I listen to the clink of silverware movings between my fingers, basking in the knowledge that I serve an awesome God, a God Who speaks...
And then I hear shouting coming from the bathroom, where my two little munchkins have been busily preparing for bed:

"You're using my toothbrush!"

"Nu uh! Thith ith mine!"

Arg. Learning life lessons is apparently a life-long process.