You can't always get what you want

I anticipate few people will comment on this blog entry. Or if they do, it will be my family asking me to please put more flattering pictures of Abby online than the ones above. Because this has nothing to do with something cute our daughter did, or how adorable she is, or what an adventure these last two months has been. No, this is about what I've learned about myself and my heart in my short time as a parent. It's about sin and selfishness and total depravity. Abigail is an excellent teacher, often instructing by example, and continually revealing layers of my heart that are sorely in need of cleansing.

My daughter is an excellent whiner. At its most tolerable, her crying is a pitiful whimper--a half-hearted attempt at getting our attention and getting her way. But at its worst, her wailing starts at a decibel level that should be reserved for rock concerts and shuttle launches and works itself into a high-pitched scream that I'm convinced only dogs can hear, climbing like an F-16 until it reaches its pinnacle, at which point our screaming daughter either pauses to take a breath before beginning again, or simply passes out from the effort and falls into a deep slumber.

Here she has everything she needs--shelter, nourishment--and quite a few things that she wants--warmth, love, attention--and yet she will drive herself mad trying to get her way. It's painful to watch her act this way, and only partly because it's hard to deal with. No, what bothers me most as I watch my precious daughter whine and cry and flail in a desperate attempt to have things go her way is wondering how very much like her I must seem to my Creator.

How often have I, in a fit of selfishness, demanded that God do something, and do it now? My presumption, of course, is that I know what's best for me, and that the sovereign Lord needs to be reminded that I'm waiting for Him to act. Forgetting that He does, in fact, know the plans He has for me and that His ways are higher than my ways, I lay there kicking and screaming, demanding to be appeased. Never mind that He has given me the one thing I need most, the thing that is entirely out of my reach, in calling me to Himself and atoning for my sins. No, I want something more--more comfort, more stability, more blessing, more freedom, more of what the world says I need to be happy. His grace, I'm telling Him, are simply not enough.

And what about when I'm content? What about when I realize Christ is sufficient and respond with prayers of thanksgiving? I am reminded then that even my goodness separates me from God. For all of my "righteous deeds" are filthy rags to the God of Heaven. His is a standard I can't meet, a perfection I can't attain, a holiness I'll never draw near to. Only Christ can, and only by faith can I have a place in that kingdom.

So what hope is there for me, or for my daughter? She was born a sinner into a sinful world, to two sinful parents who will fail her countless times as she grows up. The outlook seems pretty gloomy. We'll do our best to provide for her--we'll feed her, we'll keep a roof over her head, we'll make sure her basic needs are met. But I'm realizing that the best thing--the only important thing, really--that we can do for her is point her to her need for a Savior. To help her understand that she, like all of us, has sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. That her heart must be changed before she can be fit for heaven, and that it is God who does the changing. That there is nothing she can do to make God love her more or less than He already does. That His grace is sufficient. And I can stop kicking and screaming, and start living like I believe that.

What is thy only comfort in life and death?
"That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him."
-- Heidelberg Catechism, question 1