The Parable of a Baby and His Fork

One day I'm going to take a picture of something and put it on here, just to make this whole thing prettier. And maybe one day someone with some bloggy expertise will come along and give this whole thing a face lift and make it more appealing. Or maybe my blog is just going to be what it is now. Not too beautiful on the outside and with nothing spectacularly appealing about it, but just what God wants it to be. A place for His work to be shown.

So Sam is doing this highly annoying thing at most every meal now. Since he's advanced to the ripe old age of fifteen months old, he's pretty sure he can handle the whole eating thing all by himself now. I'll get something on his spoon or fork, like oatmeal or chicken pot pie, and move it toward his mouth. But just when it gets within reach of his short, fat little arm, he'll reach out and grab that fork. Then one of two things usually happen. Either most of the food falls in his lap or he lucks out and gets the fork to his mouth before gravity does a number on him.

But after that is the part that really gets on my last nerve. He will not give that darn fork back to me. I have to wrestle it out of his hands, and let me tell you that wrestling with a baby over a sharp object is dangerous. I prefer that all of us keep all the eyes God gave us. Vision is a plus, in my opinion. Then I find myself trying to reason with someone who licks deodorant. "Sam, if you just give me the fork, I'll give you another bite. Sam, really, just give me the fork. Sam." And then I just rip the fork from his plump little fingers and he cries until I get the next bite ready for him to grab. Glamour. That's the word you're looking for to describe my life.

Of course, in this daily struggle, it's plain to see how we do just the same thing with God. It's the whole holding life so tightly we suffocate it mentality. God begs us to let go of our earthly security and success and all the stuff we just know will make us happy so He can give us the real blessings. But we want an empty, sharp, dangerous fork because that seems best to us and our little deodorant licking minds. After all, that's where the food comes from, right? The fork? No, dope. It comes from your mama and the plate she fixed you, so let go of that stinking fork so I can give you what you need, which just so happens to be the thing you want. You think you want the fork, but what you really want is the food!

Sorry, I got lost in that analogy somewhere. Really, though, we just can't see how giving up our lives will save them. We can't see how the seed being crushed and dying brings forth fruit. We can't see how acknowledging our spiritual bankruptcy leads to us possessing heaven and earth. We can't see. That's why it's called faith. Little baby, your mama loves you, and if you'll just hand over your fork, she will always give you what you really need and want. That's what mamas do. And that's what God wants to do for us, too. And sometimes you might be surprised. He might even sneak in a little bite of cake instead of the green beans you were expecting.

“God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs." Matthew 5:3