So if you know me at all or have read even a short part of my Healing Hereafter ebook series, you’ll have picked up that I’m kinda Type-A and like to have things neatly arranged and thought out. But today I’m thinking about politics, and we’re not gonna get deep into that! Instead, I’ll focus on something a little less cerebral…wrestling. The most raw, unhinged Jason Dykstra you’re ever going to get!
Light sabers hurt more than they used to!
Every night I wrestle with my 12 year-old, who is now 5 inches taller than me. It’s his pre-bedtime routine, and we love it. I win if I get him into bed, which involves all manner of technical, brute force, and downright scrappy approaches. I have yet to lose, but he’s putting up a much tougher fight than he used to! Pretty sure my days are numbered.
All of this originated in the incessant pool-noodle light saber battles we had when my sons were into everything Star Wars. I’d come home from work fully expecting (and getting) an immediate invitation to a battle against my younger Obi-Totobi and my older Luke “Tywalker”. Then came 15 minutes of knees, fists, Bantha-mounting, elbows, bum rushing, and force-beam convulsions (I’m pretty good at those), until I’ve decided I’ve “lost enough hearts” to go on.
So far, astonishingly, none of these bouts have claimed my liver, spleen, ribs, or special parts, and I have yet to require a robotic arm replacement. But as much as I love wrestling around with my Padawans, it’s the kind of love that hurts. All parents eventually learn the “Oh, you hit me with your couch coma ray, and I’ll be out for at least 5 minutes!” trick. And we also learn that trick only works once and for maybe 2 minutes. But we either gotta stop the battle or let it rage without us, or there’s going to eventually be some serious badness. After all, I really like my spleen!
Which brings me to the revelatory epitome I was hoping would finally hit me amongst my Lucasian (well, now Disneyan) ramblings. As with just about every other interaction between parent and child, it has just dawned on me how this one also informs this father about my Father. Our Father if we so desire Him to be. For millennia his children have been little Jawa-Jedis, sometimes naughty, sometimes nice. But always pummeling him with jabs, nudges, and outright blunt trauma that are hard to distinguish as playful, mischievous, or downright dirty. His continuous battles with those he ceaselessly cares for has left him with beatings, scars, and a three-day shindig in Sheol. But he returned then and still does to allow the battle to continue.
The engagement is worth the pain, the engagement is worth the pain…
Why? For the same reason I do and perhaps you do. Not for the battle or the pain, but to be with the ones He wants to be with. Acts 17:26-27 tells us God created us to perhaps reach out for Him and find him; our purpose here is literally to engage him. Of course, because our imperfect choices often make that engagement a conflict instead of a coffee date, we will deal him some damage. But His purpose for us is and always has been to have us engage him nonetheless (Click to tweet).
The hard part of that for us (and Him) is that he also needs to either stop the battle or get completely out of it to eventually end the badness. But if he stops it, he must also either stop the engagement or stop our ability to freely engage as we will. In other words, he either keeps us from accomplishing our purpose or forces us to do so the in way he wants. Alternatively, he gets out of the battle completely – to let us decide for ourselves whether we’re getting out with Him or staying in without Him.
My kids have discovered that light saber and wrestling matches without dad are never as much fun. There is no one to wipe the tears away when they inevitably hurt each other, and we all miss out on the whole purpose of the engagement in the first place: To end the battle together in a big heap of happiness. Sound familiar? “God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…whoever is thirsty, let him come.” (Revelation 21:3-4, 17). I am literally thirsty to turn the battle into bonding with my boys; how much more so with God! If we are thirsty to be with God – as our God – let us choose to end the battle the way were created to: Together with our Dad (Click to tweet).
And if you see them, tell my kids to be gentler to their aging Jedi Master.
There’s so much more to this purpose God has for us, the one wonderful way it is achieved, and why it makes sense. Explore answers to many questions about these topics in Healing Hereafter…it’s free! Download instantly right here.
