Watching my boys play reminded me of the heart of Jesus. He wants me to live life to the fullest.
“Mom, look at this!”
The command comes from the around the corner. The living room has been a construction site for days. Bright orange Hot Wheels track outlines the perimeter of the room. It’s clamped on the tables and runs to the floor. It stretches from the fireplace to wing chairs.
I leave the dining room to find my two youngest sitting pretzel-legged on the rug.
“This, Mom, is the coolest thing!”
One boy starts the chain reaction, and I’m impressed.
There are dominoes on the table. They fall to the edge and hit a row of cars. The cars move toward the start gate. The boys have rigged it. It triggers and four cars fly down a sleek run of track. At the end there are more dominoes. The cars hit them. Row by row, they fall and hit the floor in a cascade. Plink, plink, plink…
The engineering amazes me. Later, my husband Lonny comes home and says the strangest thing. “It’s a Rube Goldberg” he says. I inquire, and he explains.
“Over-engineering. Creating something complicated from a simple thing.”
I think about this.
I can do the same with my faith.
The thief enters only to steal, kill and destroy. I came so that they could have life–indeed, so that they could live life to the fullest. (John 10:10)
It’s Jesus’ desire that we live life to the fullest. He bled for my salvation. The fullness stretches forward and settles my eternity. But because of Him, I have the indwelling of the Spirit in this life–now. I’m empowered. He’s filled the void in my center, and He’s promised to never leave. His heart is bent for me, and He’s compassionate. No matter what happens in life, I’m secure.
Yet I complicate life with worry. Doubt. Fear. Anxiety. I fret and fight when the purpose of His pain was to set me free. I don’t have to live in the tangle of such things.
I want to live the gift of grace.
Lord, help me to live in the strength and power and freedom of your Presence. Help me to let go of the things that complicate my faith.
It stays like this, stretches of track webbing our living room, for several days. I stop the boys when they haul a stepladder toward my chandelier.
But the track remains, and I smile when I see it.
It reminds me to resist the complications of worry and fear. And to live life to the fullest.
