Child of God

The mountain of difficulties grew by the hour, nearly all of it beyond my ability to solve, but demanding my attention anyway. I wanted to hide under the covers and stay there. Of course I couldn't do that, so I prayed. I worried and I prayed some more. God answered through a vision.

I was walking toward the break room, when the words Child of God echoed through my mind. At the same moment, the world turned hazy as if a film or sheer curtain had dropped in front of me. The center of the haze sharpened, illuminated by the scene of a small child playing in a sunlit field. He ran and jumped, chased butterflies and grasshoppers. In mid flight, he was called in for lunch. Immediately he obeyed. He sat at the table and waited respectfully until the meal was served. The white plate held what looked like a single piece of baloney – no bread or condiments.

The child neither complained nor pouted. He bowed his head and said, “Thank you, Father, for providing this meal.”

The boy ate and went back out to play. He skipped and ran. He waded through streams, watched a caterpillar creep along a narrow leaf, and and tried to guess shapes in the billowy, white clouds. Birds sang and the flowers nodded in the gentle breeze. He gave no thought as to what was for supper or breakfast, or whether he had clean clothes to put on in the morning. It never occurred to him to worry if the house would be warm come winter. His Father took care of those things.

Night fell and the boy realized he had gone too far and was lost, but he didn’t panic. He didn’t cry. He sat down and waited for his Father to find him.

The vision changed. I was the child, shivering in the dark, worrying and fretting about being found.

“Come with Me.” I looked up and saw His outstretched hand.

Gently He lifted me to my feet and we walked along a steep, rough path. It was unfamiliar, not the usual way we went home. And it was dark. I couldn’t see anything ahead or behind.

“Where are we going? Aren’t we going home? What about supper? What if there are cliffs or deep holes?”

My Father tightened His grip. “Trust Me, Child. Haven’t I always taken care of you?”

“Yes.” I answered.

Back at work the nasty little voice, The Doubting Me, spoke up. “How do you know He will this time?”

How do I know? Because He told me so. As I was paging from one reading to the other during my morning devotions, my Bible fell open to Luke 12: 22-32: Do not be solicitous for what you are to wear, what you are to drink or what you are to eat….Consider the lilies of the field….Your Father in heaven knows you have need of these things.