A while back, one of my children made a pretty significant mistake that ended up damaging someone else’s property…carelessness the owner and I both agreed needed to be addressed complete with consequences as an important life lesson. Knowing he and I were in cahoots beforehand, I wasn’t really concerned about what the owner would say or how he would handle it. I assumed it would be a big deal to my son (rightly so), but not necessarily to me.
My child nervously came in and sat across from the owner. After a word of prayer, a conversation ensued where my son tearfully admitted to his mistakes and formally apologized for his poor choices, offering a hand-written apology note and a willingness to pay for the damages. The owner handled it well…he was tough, but loving in his responses. The really strange part for me was not the tears my child cried (those were expected) during the meeting, but the tears that welled up in my own eyes as I sat there and watched. Even though I was previously angry with his ill-fated choices…even though I knew my son deserved what he was to receive…even though his carelessness dictated this was to be some kind of memorable experience, it still inexplicably hurt me. That caught me by surprise as this was not some kind of life-altering judicial proceedings. There was just something about seeing my boy in the grips of an outcome his poor decisions created that pained me although the outcome was not to affect me personally. The conversation ended well and arrangements were made for my son to work off the damages, but it’s my hope (and I’m sure my son’s) a meeting such as this will never become necessary again.
Soon after, God and I talked about how things played out and how I felt. There, God reiterated the careful parallels His Word draws between my relationship with my son and His relationship with me as His son. I’ve been taught since childhood that it breaks God’s heart when we sin and all that, but I don’t guess I really, really understood that until all this played out before my eyes. God’s not giddy because we’re finally getting “what we deserve”…that’s not Who He is. He’s not standing behind us with furled brow and arms crossed nodding as we tragically reap what we have sown…that’s not Who God is either.
Instead, just as I felt with my own son, there is a silent, tearful acknowledgement of what has been done wrong in the form of allowing a needed life lesson and the extension of grace that many times come with it. He has a tough love for us, allowing us to endure some (not nearly all) the consequences of our sinful actions. However, even as those consequences impact our life, His heart is breaking…just as mine did watching my own son coming to grips with his.
I am thankful God is with us even in those moments and that those moments conclude not with estrangement and ridicule for what we’ve done, but with a hug and encouragement that we are still and will always be His.
What do you think of this? How has this played out in your life as a son or a daughter…as a father or a mother? Let’s talk about it…leave a comment!
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