Stubborn Children In the Hands of a Loving God

Yesterday was one of those moments in the life of a parent. That moment when something silly -- stupid, even -- becomes something subtly heartbreaking. The situation: my daughter got caught with a candy wrapper. Though she claimed she was just throwing it away, circumstances -- and her overall demeanor -- suggested otherwise. But, she continued to deny any wrongdoing. A half hour later, I went out to the kitchen and noticed a piece of candy on the floor -- the very same kind which would have been found inside that empty wrapper. We confronted her with the evidence, which, when combined with the other circumstances of the evening, only solidified her guilt. But she wouldn't budge.

Several story changes and many tears later, she still wouldn't admit what she'd done. Of course, from a Mommy and Daddy perspective, the actual crime was nothing. She would have been reminded that we don't take food, particularly sweets, without permission, and possibly lost an after-school snack for a day. The big deal, for us, was simply that she wasn't telling the truth about it. This went on far longer than it ever would have, simply because she wouldn't admit what she'd done. And because of that, she got into more trouble, losing privileges for the week.

And the whole time, there she was, crying those big tears out of those huge blue eyes, breaking my heart with every drop. As her daddy, it killed me seeing her like that. I'll readily admit it took everything in me, during the conversation, to not just scoop her up into my arms, tell her everything was okay and that I believed her (even though I didn't), and send her off to bed with a conciliatory cookie. Yeah, I'm a sucker. I guess that's love.

The thing of it was, what I really and truly wanted was for her to simply be honest with us. To simply confess what she'd done and apologize. That one, simple thing, and I would happily have erased every indication of guilt. I'd have happily picked her up and kissed her tears and told her we loved her and forgave her, and always would. That she'd been forgiven even before she fessed up. But it was important to us that she confess. Vital, in fact. Not just for our own satisfaction, but in order for her to grow as a person. In order for her to learn to take responsibility for what she'd done. Because, without that understanding -- without taking that responsibility, our forgiveness is next to meaningless. She learns nothing, continues to justify what she'd done wrong, and keeps facing the consequences over and over again.

Maybe it makes me a bad parent, but in that moment, if she'd simply said, "I'm sorry," there probably would have been no punishment at all. It's just a stupid piece of candy, and all I wanted to do was comfort my little girl.

It was one of those moments in which I truly believed I finally understood God. At least, I finally understood His unconditional love and desire to forgive. I finally understood, in some very small way, His own heartbreak. Imagine, there He is -- having already paid the penalty for what we've done wrong -- just waiting on us to acknowledge it. To simply confess. To say, "Lord, yes, I've done something wrong. I've disobeyed you. I have sinned and turned away from what was right."

He waits for that moment with each one of us, wanting nothing more than to scoop us up into His arms, wipe away our tears of guilt, and say, "I love you. I forgive you."

 If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:8 & 9)