One day my mother was driving down a little country road near the sleepy little town of Steens Mississippi. As she approached the river near the edge of town, she noticed a bunch of teenage kids jumping off the side of the old iron bridge that spanned it, and she slowly shook her head as she saw them fearlessly leaping off the side of the bridge into the swiftly moving muddy river far below.
It made her nervous just thinking about the possibility that they might hit a log floating down the rapidly moving river or some similar malady. Just then she noticed a kid who had climbed up the suspension portion of the bridge to the very top located high above the river.
Suddenly the kid did a one and a half somersault off the top of the bridge and dove headfirst into the swiftly moving river. She let out an audible scream! Not because some kid was doing something dangerous, but because she happened to notice as he was executing the dive that the kid was me!
In horror she slammed on her brakes and anxiously looked down at the swirling muddy river below until she saw my head safely pop up above the surface. She got out of her car and stood there hands on hips watching as I swam towards the bank.
All my buddies were clapping and applauding my excellent dive, but my mother was as angry as a hornet knocked off its nest. She shouted down from the bridge that I was an idiot and not to do that again. I was a hundred yards away and couldn’t understand what she was saying. I thought she was appreciative of my dive too and was complimenting it. I waved and smiled a silly smile at her.
She got back in her car and left.
Years later my wife and I were standing at the base of a snowy mountain in Park City Utah where we’d gone for a skiing vacation. The resort had been preparing for the Olympics and had staked out a downhill slalom racing course right above where we were standing and some of the athletes had been training there.
The mountain looked like a sheer cliff to me and just then I noticed one of the skiers riding to the top of the mountain on a little one person swing lift. Teresa and I stood there watching him and talking for a moment and then a few minutes later I saw that guy come screaming down the mountain maneuvering the slalom course. He looked like he was doing 60 miles an hour as he streaked down the sheer cliff. I pointed him out to my wife and exclaimed, “Look at that idiot!”
Just then I noticed that the idiot was my son Michael.
Poetic justice?
I hear so many stories from parents about their kids doing stupid stuff. We sometimes forget that we were once kids too.
The same is true when faced with the spiritual immaturity of some of those that we know. I was worried about what I perceived as a lack of intensity by one of my children when it came to following the Lord. He seemed to be like one of those lukewarm Christians that the Lord talked about spitting out in Revelation.
I was lamenting to my buddy about how I wished my son had more passion for the Lord when he gently reminded me that my son was still young and perhaps a little immature as a Christian, but he was working some things out regarding his walk with Jesus. Then he hit me with this stinger, “Do you remember when you were spiritually immature?”
Huh?
Me?
Uh huh . . . I remember.
Cut some slack to those around you and in love gently persuade them that the benefit of drawing closer to the Lord is that He will draw close to you. When that happens the floodgates of heaven are opened for us and we will experience peace, joy, and love that is bigger than the sky that God created.
I’m not advocating that you never say anything, but maybe go slow so you look like you know. We must lovingly train them up in the Lord and not condemn them every time they make a mistake. It is after all human to err . . . And we all . . . gulp . . . do it . . .
Proverbs 22:6
Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.
May 14, 2014 – Click here to listen