The God-Sized Box

I'm a fairly level headed guy. Mostly anyhow. The only time I'm not is when someone crosses my family. I can not begin to explain to you the rage that courses through my body or what it feels like to black out and lose precious moments in time that you find you did something that you later regret. Things get said. Or yelled rather. Actions happen that can not be rationally explained. I can only liken it to what David Banner feels like when he starts to see red and the next thing you know he sees green... big green... ugly... raging... pissed off green. And the Hulk emerges.



Then the raging maniac that we all know and love on the silver screen and comics books thrashes about, sometimes punishing the bad guys, but more often than not, causing collateral damage for the good guys. While everyone involved understands, it never makes it any easier to clean up after the Hulk has come to town. Not all parties are happy when he shows up. Its not a celebration. And they haven't been singing songs since Thanksgiving - "Oh you better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout. I'm telling you why. Hu-ah-ulk is coming... to town." No, the Hulk isn't a welcome adversary and neither am I when I'm angry. Especially when I'm on a war path because someone dared offend or hurt my children.

I'm making a point here, other than witty prose and fun ditties you'll never sing. The other day, my boys asked me if I could pick them up from school five minutes earlier than I usually do. I normally get them 5 minutes after school lets out in order to give them time to get their stuff together, say goodbye to friends, and get across a parking lot away from traffic where I'll be waiting with my cup of coffee and a smile. But now they're asking me to come earlier. That cuts into my coffee making time, but I agree and ask why.

They proceed to tell me that some eighth graders were mocking them on their way to my soccer mom van as they passed some storage freighters located on the side of the lot where I await them. How dare they! Don't those eighth graders know who these boys are? Don't they know who their father is? How could they? The dirty little.... Three... Two... One... and I'm back. Phew.

Now I'm upset to say the least. Not only because the eighth graders were daring to talk down to my children, but because my children disobeyed me. They were never supposed to go near the freighters and we specifically told them that at the beginning of the year. I don't recall explaining why I didn't want them to go around the freighters, just that I didn't want them there. To me, the freighters offered the perfect opportunity for illicit, unsupervised behavior that older kids get into around a school yard. So of course I would tell them to avoid that area. My precious little fifth graders have no business learning about sex, drugs, and dirty jokes from these older kids.

I'm angrier than I've been in a while for three reasons: the older boys poking at my kids, my kid's disobedience, and the fact that I couldn't do anything to protect my kids from such hurt. I was an emotional wreck! And then it happened... I saw red. I yelled. I said things I regret. What kinds of things? None of your business. That's what kind of things. But regrettable things none the less. I didn't handle myself, my emotions, or my inability to protect my kids very well.

Now before you call social services, I didn't hit anyone or break anything. I just mean the conversation was heated and I was disappointed and overwhelmed because none of it had to happen if they had obeyed and avoided those freighters in the first place. Regardless, I had let the Hulk out, per se, and while the damage was not irreparable, I don't like to yell at my kids. They don't deserve that. It doesn't show them respect, let alone God's love for them through me. It was bad discipline at its worst.

I walked away from that conversation upset at myself and the boys. I jumped in the shower to get ready to take them to another day of school, muttering to myself as I went. And it was there that I called on God. I repented of my anger and asked Him to forgive me for yelling at the boys. I took a deep breath in and let it out, and then proceeded to tell Him of my feelings of despair that I could not keep evil from happening to my children. I asked repeatedly for forgiveness as I lathered and rinsed.

You see, I know that rage comes from a place of fear in my heart. A place that puts God in a box and says, "I'm sorry. You're not big enough to handle this problem God." Or says, "God, I don't trust you. This can't possibly be something that is in my best interest." I'm going to say that in a different way, a way in which my pastor, Konan Stephens, said it that resonated with my heart. The thing you fear the most is the size of the box you put God inside.

A God-sized box. I can't even begin to imagine the size of that box, but that's exactly what we do by being afraid.

I know that God the Father loves me. And that just like me, as a Father, He doesn't want bad things to happen to His children. He desires good for us. But sometimes we make choices that come with consequences that we have to face. As a Father, He is not going to stop that sequence of events, but He will be with us through it. He expects us to trust Him. To know that His Word is true that says, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.." - Romans 8:28. All things means ALL THINGS. Sickness, broken bones, failure, sin, success, health, marriage, divorce... All things. Everything in our lives can be redeemed by God to work for good in our favor.

I also know that God is sovereign. And sovereignty means that He can do anything He wants. We find over and over again in the Bible that the thing He wants most is to bless us. But His plan is not always our plan. His ways are not our ways. We can't even begin to understand the vastness of His love for us and the world at large. The Word says in James 4:14, we are but a vapor, here for a while on this planet, and then gone away. We are just a small part in the lineage of time. To me, we have nothing else to do but trust the sovereignty of God and hope that our trust in Him is to His glory. Its easy to forget this in the moment you find out your children have been attacked. And even harder to grasp when you let this flesh suit get in the way.

The last thing I know is that God created all things. And that includes human emotions. It means He knows all about fear, anger, rage... He created them, after all. That's why He says in the Word to be angry and sin not. All He asks is that we submit these emotions to Him, ask for help when needed, and live a life that honors Him, effectively causing us to stand out from among the rest of the world by our actions. These are the things I should have told my kids. They would've accomplished a lot more than my yelling did.

At then end of my shower, I asked God to help me make it right with the boys and that I wished I had the opportunity to handle this situation the right way. All I can say is that God is faithful. On my way to school with the boys, I apologized for yelling at them. I explained all the emotions I was feelings at the moment and then quickly dismissed them as they were not an excuse for me to speak to them that way. I made sure they knew what I said was accurate regarding their disobedience, but that how I chose to share it was not acceptable. I asked them to forgive me for sinning against them.

They both forgave me and told me we were good. Then my oldest spoke up and said that he was afraid of the eighth graders. That he had run into one in the bathroom the other day and was afraid the boy was going to give him a swirly. The rage started to course through my veins toward that eighth grader, but the Holy Spirit nudged me and I realized that this was my opportunity to handle the same subject I had botched earlier in the right way.

I quieted the rage monster lurking within, and instead shared with my son God's love for us. How he means good for us and not evil. And how when evil happens, we are supposed to trust Him through it all. That trusting Him removes all fear from our hearts. That God understands fear, after all, He created it. But that by fearing, we put God in a box that says what we were afraid of was too big for Him to handle.

I could see the look in his eyes as I shared with him. He understood it, but the connection on how to live this wasn't there. A connection that I so often don't make myself when it comes to applying the truths of the Bible to my own life. So I told him that if he was afraid, that that's ok. Just pray to God and tell him about it. Tell Him you don't want to be afraid and that you want to trust Him. Tell Him you seek to honor Him with your choices and you know that fear is not doing that. God is faithful and he will help you with your fear.

Then we all quoted a scripture they've known since they were able to articulate the words "I'm scared Daddy" - For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.

It sank in. I could see it. Both boys just let the life changing power of the Word of God take root in their hearts. It was an awe inspiring moment. God was doing a work. He had redeemed my failure from earlier that morning despite me. And my boys were learning that the phrase "God-sized box" was an oxymoron, because such a box simply doesn't exist.