I rose with the sun this morning (a little ahead of it, actually) in an attempt to have some "me time", or maybe even "me and God" time. 'tis early, 5:30. I get up that early twice a week to work out, once for Basketball and once for Racquetball, so it shouldn't have been any big deal, right? Wrong. You know how, back in the day, armies would line up on either side of a field and volley arrows at each other, then move up and throw spears and rocks, then run at each other and scream a lot? I'm pretty sure that my bed was in the center of such a field this morning, and I was watching the arrows of spiritual warfare flying overhead as the armies closed in on each other... and my bed. The proverbial angel and demon on my shoulders were having a right old shouting match about the merits and foolishness of my getting out of the bed.
I got up (shocker, I know). I stumbled into the den, turned on the lights of the Christmas village (no comments necessary), made a pot of coffee (which I never touched until 10 something, but my wife loved) and settled on the living room couch with my Bible (after several minutes of searching to find it, lest ye should think me some kind of super-saint, which I sadly am not). I wound up in Habakkuk and Daniel, of all places, then the gospel of John, and really sensed that - for the first time in a long time - God was trying to help me find some answers through his word. How wonderful, and how frightening.
As I finished my reading, Jack started to stir and I wound up laying in his bed with him, falling asleep for an hour with my little man snuggled up to my shoulder. How wonderful, and how frightening. So great is my responsibility as a husband and a father. I often say that when thinking of paying the bills or keeping food on the table, which is daunting enough, but when I think of the role I play in helping my family discover the living and relevant Jesus... I feel remarkably ill equipped. I hope it starts with waking up early in the morning, watching the arrows fly over the bed and listening to the smaller battle between my shoulders. I hope it starts with rolling out of the bed, the first declaration of the day as to whose side I'm on. And I hope it involves holding my boy for an hour, waiting for him to open his eyes and find me there.
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2 comments:
Good job, my friend. I'm in the midst of my usual procrastination to develop some time like that early in the morning. I've been saying that for a few years now...just need to do it.
I am so glad I married you. No one else but you.
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