The Illustrator, The Dragon Slayer and The Father

The other night, the little guys, the artist and the writer, were dog-piled in bed with me – I love it when these two talk about big and little things, little and big. The conversation went like this:

“Wasn’t the oldest man about 900 years old?” the writer asked.

They both look at me, expecting me to know everything and love discovering that I do not.

“Methuselah,” I answered.

“No, he wasn’t’ the oldest man,” the littlest one, the artist said. “God is.”

“God isn’t a man. God made man,” said the writer.

They both look at me, in a chorus, asking, “Who made God?. . . How old is God?”

“We all have to wait for heaven to find out those answers,” I answered. Score one for mom not knowing everything.

“God is like an illustrator,” answered the artist.

“A creator,” chimed in the writer.

“My Father,” I thought to myself.

They don’t really understand God the Father yet. We talk about it, teach about it and call Him Father. Right now they recognize Him as the Creator, so Big He can palm the universe, the illustrator who gave the world scope.

When my boys hurt, right now they press into me, for comfort, for me to make everything o.k., for my tangible ears to hear their story.
Right now, when a finger is cut, or a splinter wedges into tender footpads, or a collar bone fractures – they reach for my hands, to lay my hands on their brokenness, while I approach the Father for their healing, their wholeness, their wellness. They know God heals, but sometimes they are not ready to go there alone – so I take them there.

When my son battled night-fears, I introduced him to Joshua and Caleb, to David as the little brother in the field and in the valley where he met Goliath, to Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego – all boys to men who battled fear but chose to find their courage in God.

My writer when he was little pointed out his brother had boo-boos that needed prayer. “Lay hands on them and pray for them,” I encouraged, waiting for him to speak, to pray. We were driving somewhere, just the 3 of us. I saw he had reached his hands over, but no words came out. “Well, when are you going to pray,” he asked. Interceding for others can be overwhelming, going into God’s presence and asking. . . the Creator, the Illustrator.

Children are used to barging into rooms in their own home – but not others, not even God’s. They need for someone to show them that God’s door is always ready to be opened. That He cannot wait for His children to enter. That He meets you at the door. They just need to feel comfortable enough to turn the knob, to feel like God’s home is their home.

The artist came home from school a few years ago, hurting for a friend who was constantly being bullied. His friend had been crying. “I prayed for him in the bathroom today,” he said. He could go to the Illustrator, the Creator for a friend. It was a beginning of his personal relationship with the Father. He walked to that door, turned that knob and entered the Father’s presence for a friend.

“Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength” (Deut. 6:5).

Love does not happen without relationship. Relationship does not happen without visiting. Visiting does not happen without an introduction.

Hand in Hand, I walk my sons to His home until one day they walk there themselves. Until one day, when they are too big to press into me for comfort, when they no longer look to my hands to minister God’s healing, – then, on that day, they seek relationship one on one, Father to son – no intermediary, man to God – and they press into Him for comfort, for healing, for help. The Illustrator is the Creator is Dragon Slayer is the Healer is finally The Father.