Day 1:
I will go to the altar of God, to God, my joy and my delight (Psalm 43:4)
Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: “To Him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, forever and ever!”
I don't know what it is. I don't care what it is. It has no value, no worth, no beauty. But I esteem it as a great treasure. It came, long ago, wrapped in tissue paper, with a simple inscription, "For Mommy." It has stood on my dresser ever since.
Over time, the colors have faded somewhat—the blues are a little duller, the whites cloudier. Yet for me it still shines with the glow of a six-year-old face smiling in joyous anticipation as Mommy unwrapped the treasure, the sacrifice.
And sacrifice indeed it was. I knew so well his struggles with visual-spatial processing, his difficulties with fine motor skills. And those challenges increased a million-fold the value of this "sculpture" from the intersection of imagination and limitation in a six-year-old.
Years later as I look at the uneven sculpture that bears witness to unconditional love and whole-hearted embrace, I wonder if in God's great design, our children are meant to give us a glimpse into the heart of a loving God towards His children. To help us clearly understand how love sees past imperfections, whether in awkward sculptures or in dandelion "bouquets" or in misshapen crayon hearts.
Perhaps in some small measure our children help us catch sight of how God loves us in spite of our imperfect gifts—our malformed sacrifices, our misaligned offerings. It is a heartening thought that precisely because God knows our limitations, He treasures the gifts we bring to Him in love, in joy, and in a desire to please Him. "As a father has compassion on his children," says David, "so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust" (Psalm 103:13-14).
Zephaniah 3:17 gives an amazing picture of God's view of His people. Taken in context, it is about a time of restoration for Israel's remnant after devastation and captivity. But it paints a stunning picture of a God who joys in His children:
"The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”
As my eyes fall again on an old, tilting, blue sculpture, I understand what it is, as a human parent, to "take delight in" my child. But still I struggle to grasp that the great God of the universe takes delight in His children; rejoices over them with singing. And that He accepts our mystery art, our dandelion bouquets and our misshaped crayon hearts.
Oh, may we offer Him the gift of true worship from our hearts and be to Him a joy forever!
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