The Futility of Worry: my Toddler the Gospel Preacher.

Ever been kicked in the teeth by a children’s Bible?

I like to put on my game face for my kid. I don’t want him to see daddy redefining the phrase “freak out” because he looked at the bank statement. I want for him to see me quietly trusting God, keeping a smile on my face, and getting the job done of providing for my family. So I didn’t see it coming when I went to tuck him in the other night. Our routine goes something like (1) change into appropriate sleepwear/new diaper, (2) climb onto the toddler bed and read a story from The Jesus Storybook Bible, (3) Sing a mashup of Jesus loves/Twinkle Twinkle Little/Wheels on The Bus, (4) pray, (5) turn out the light.

During stage (2) of the above proceedings, I opened to the story of Jesus preaching in Matthew about the birds and the flowers being provided for. The story brought me to tears as I realized how silly and gospel-starved I am to have forgotten that God is the provider, the author, the sustainer. I am just the steward, and have received the ultimate gift, the ultimate provision (which makes all other “needs” merely bonus by comparison) in Jesus and his perfect life and sacrificial death.

So there I was, blubbering through the story, and LB grabbed my face and looked me in the eye and said “It’s OK, Daddy.”

Yes son, you’re right, it is OK.