Learning to Crawl

Raising a six month old has taught me more about God than did 9 years in Christian schools and a minor in Biblical Studies. Things like unconditional love and grace, once hard to fully grasp, make a lot more sense to me now. God is often referred to as “Father” but I am beginning to see that the way most people understand that title is not how he sees it. We naturally associate the attributes we know our own fathers or most fathers to have to God, but we forget how different he is from human beings. A human father may be loving and want the best for his children, but, at least by the time they are old enough to make the comparison, he is also very much like them. I have come to believe that the difference between God and us is more similar to the difference between an adult and an infant. I am so much bigger than my son, I see the world so much more fully and I understand what he is doing and going through far more completely than he does.

My first realization of this came when he was about a month old and, as infants tend to do, was screaming uncontrollably and without cause. Surely there was something that he saw as being wrong with his universe, but I knew there was no problem at all. He was fed, clean, warm and loved. He was part of a family who would protect and cherish him for all of his life. But he wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to tell him this, instead he screamed while I held him and waited for him to notice that he was alright.  I could very clearly feel God laughing a little and saying “You see how frustrating that can be?”.  From our perspective, we often see things as being wrong or worrisome when God knows that there is nothing for us to be concerned about. He holds us as safe as in a mother’s arms. We don’t always listen or don’t believe him when he says he is with us and everything is okay. Still he waits for us to figure it out and welcomes us back when we do.

Then there are the times when I have to do something truly terrible to my baby such as changing his diaper in the middle of the night or putting pants on him before we go out. These things are the greatest injustices he believes I can put him through. Even getting his polio shot does not cause as much distress to him as a pair of pants can. Now, I know full well that the process of putting on pants for him is a temporary and harmless situation. I know that when the pants are on or the diaper is changed that all will be well. He may even think later in his baby brain that he is pleased to have pants on and to be warm. At the very least, I know the discomfort of having a diaper changed when one is tired is far preferable to diaper rash. I know that the things he has to go through that are traumatic and horrible for him are the best thing I can do for him. I don’t think it’s necessary for me to explain the parallel here.

Most recently, my son has been attempting various forms of mobility, which is not easy for him. He’s not yet good at getting where he wants to go. This frustrates him deeply and often. He can get his little legs under him and then straighten out his arms, but he can’t quite figure out how to move forward. It’s not that he is not equipped to crawl, it’s that he is in a process of learning which takes diligence and perseverance and a lot of failure to accomplish. This is the situation which has taught me the most about God’s grace. Surely I would not scold or attack my child for failing to crawl. I kneel before him calling him to me letting him know I know he will get there sometime and that I am proud of his attempts. I keep my hands around him so that when he falls he won’t get hurt and I prepare for the day when he reaches the goal we both have for him. Now, if he were to stop trying, to stop participating in tummy-time or to be content with just sitting when he was meant to crawl, walk, and run, I would be unhappy. I would not accept his failure to try to do what I know he can do and was meant to do. This is why I know I can never be content in my walk with God. It will never be good enough to stop moving or trying to become what I was meant to be. I can rest. I can take a break and let God hold me where I am for a while, but the only way to really fail in God’s eyes is to be too afraid of failing or too content with mediocrity to keep going.

I so often want to know what is coming up, what the fruit will be from the efforts I have sewn. I beg God to tell me what is going to happen when this or that trial is finished and I have reached the next milestone. What my son has taught me is that I am probably too small to understand them anyway. My baby may know he wants to get to his toy across the room, but he doesn’t realize the true effects learning to crawl and walk and run will have on his life. I doubt he will even look back on that accomplishment with any kind of appreciation because the things he will be able to do in his life will overshadow the things he is learning now. But these things are the seeds, and from them, so much will grow. That is the comfort I get from God during this season of my life. Maybe in fifty years I won’t even remember this time because it will seem so small in light of all the beauty God has prepared for my future.

God knows we can’t be perfect and he doesn’t expect that of us. He knows we will fall and he still loves us when we do. He knows what will come from our failures and our successes. He knows the bigger picture of why things happen to us. Sometimes he will lift us up enough for us to catch a glimpse, but we can’t ever really understand all that he does. For that reason, I’d like to stick around God, because if I try to do these things by myself, I will be as lost as a baby without his mama.