I sat at my desk, my nose inches from the aluminum chassis of my son’s laptop as I twisted in the last tiny screw. My son, Taras, and I have the same model of laptop and for some reason, mine is missing that exact screw in the bottom.
I glanced his way. “Did you know my laptop is missing this screw? I should put this in mine instead.”
Taras scowled. “No, don’t!”
I put down the screw driver and grinned at him. “You know I’m joking, right?”
He nodded and reached for the laptop. His computer is probably his most important possession. Even though he “knew” I’d never steal his screw, the stakes were just too high to take any chances.
I’m pretty sure I heard God chuckle at me. I’m the same way with God.
Taras was worried because he didn’t grasp the extent of my love for him. I gave him that computer and all its screws, why would he be the tiniest bit worried I’d take one back? Every day I pour a hundred things into his life worth a thousand times more than that screw: food, clothes, school, dentistry, glasses, and on and on. That doesn’t even consider the care – afternoons doing homework, the sleepless nights if he’s not well, hours playing child-games or sessions at the trampoline park.
Would he have been worried if he had the slightest idea what I’ve already given him and how much I give him every day?
Are my prayers and fears about life all that different? I just finished my taxes and I was afraid to ask my CPA questions about a couple details in case he said, “Oops, we need to change that item. Looks like you owe money.” Shouldn’t I be more concerned with integrity than money? But I’m worried God’s going to take something from me.
I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea what God does for me. It’s not just about being grateful for my food or health or a roof over my head. A few years ago, a neighbor had a stroke. It made me realize I’ve never thanked God for the neurons firing for every thought in my brain. They just “are,” right? Just like Taras thinks lunch and dinner just “are” on the kitchen table. But does that even scratch the surface? Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. (Is 40:26)
If I know how much God loves me, and how much he gives me, it helps me give him permission to do whatever he needs to do – even if I think I won’t like it. But having peace isn’t really about things, it’s about personality. Faith isn’t learning to trust in what I see God doing or not doing, it’s knowing him well enough to trust him. I know his character and therefore know that no matter how bad the destination seems, I’m going to love the place he takes me (if I let him).
Taras is my little buddy and we spend a lot of time together. He knows me better now than he did a few years ago when I fixed his laptop. I still tease him all the time, but if I were to make that screw joke today, Taras would say, “Daaaaaaad!” or he might change to his fake I’m-deliriously-worry-free voice and say, “Go ahead.” Then he’d grin, “I ruined your joke, right?”
He’s not afraid anymore – not because he doesn’t want the laptop screw, but because he knows me better. He still has no idea how much I give him, but he’s given his broken things to me enough times to realize they always come back better – or even brand new. He knows I can give him not only screws, but whole laptops, and he knows I love to spoil him. And I love it when he gets scared and runs to me to solve a problem.
That’s how Jesus described our relationship with our heavenly father.
For the last 30 years I’ve carved time out every day with no other agenda than getting to know him. Knowing him was what let me sleep at night when unscrupulous people spent millions in court to bury me, or what helped me find hope when Sheree died. Once, in an incredibly toxic business situation, I was asked how I was the only one on the management team not using antidepressant or antianxiety medication. It was those hours spent with the master of the storm.
I still get afraid sometimes, but I like what he’s done with the broken pieces of my life so much, now I laugh in my I’m-deliriously-worry-free voice and say, “Go ahead.”
What would your life be like if nothing made you anxious? Is there anything you can do to get to know God better?