Scene 1: Henry whispers to me that we can just learn about Jesus in our own Bible at home. I whisper back that an important part of our faith is being with others who love Jesus. This is all I can say in the middle of the service, but I’ll add more later. I’m discouraged.
Scene 2: I watch Henry put away his puzzle books, move to the edge of his seat, and fix his eyes on our pastor breaking the bread and pouring the grape juice. This is the moment of the service that encapsulates his senses and touches a place inside him that only God can reach.
Scene 3: We’re in the car.
“Henry, what did you learn about today?”
“A boy’s lunch.”
“What did Jesus do with the boy’s lunch?”
“He fed other people.”
“Yes, a lot of people! He only had a few fish and a few loaves of bread, but he fed more than 5000 people. When he broke off the fish, there was always more. It was a miracle.”
“I KNOW, right?!”
I’ve been concerned for Henry’s understanding of God since the diagnosis. No, I’ve been concerned longer than that. It is the single-most important piece of my parenting, that I do my part in showing him the Gospel. In the end, it is his choice to believe. I can’t choose the Way for him. Still, I know his belief largely depends on ours and what we teach him about our Lord and our faith. The responsibility has, at times, felt heavy.
It feels heavy in moments like Scene 1 above.
But then we have moments like Scenes 2 and 3. That day was unusual, seeing them all in the expanse of 2 hours, but those holy moments always come if we wait long enough.
We’ve waited on so much. The breakthroughs always come.
Are you waiting on someone? Some situation? Some answer? Patience, friend.
As you take your next right step today, trust that God won’t let you miss your own future.
~ Emily P. Freeman, here