“I give up.” I whispered under my breath. I once knew a little girl that challenged me so deeply. She didn’t believe in minding or obeying anyone or for any reason. Over time we went through stages of “NO!”, tears, hitting, kicking, name calling. (And Those were just the things I did when I was dealing with her.)
It was her way or no way at all. It had driven me down, and each day another person I knew grew weary of dealing with her.
But one day, well, one day was different. Sure, she’d had her morning fit. She’d said “NO!” a time or two. However, by the time late afternoon had rolled around she had shaped up and become the faithful sidekick. She’d helped me prepare her afternoon snack. She’d helped others. She had waited until the appropriate timing for things. She even served her timeout sentence from earlier in the day with ease and respect. Here was the child I had long since given up on. The child I was growing to tolerate instead of love. This was now the child who gave me high-fives and was playing with others.
My friend pulled her aside to tell her how proud we were, and the massive grin told us she found an equal delight in our pride.
This was the child I had decided had no hope.
The thought later hit me, “What if Christ gave up on us so easily?” I know for a fact that my Life can mimic a similar pattern. Telling God “NO!”, kicking and screaming when something “isn’t fair”, tears over trivial things, absolute outright defiance towards His plan and His will for my life.
Yet he never gave up hope for me. He continued in the day-to-day to seek me out and love me. To discipline and disciple me. To make His “YES!” Overpower my “NO!”
I’m thankful for a little girl who challenges me to love and not tolerate. For the sweet bone-crushing hugs she gives me when she’s good, and the boiling temper and tears when she’s bad.
I’m thankful for a God who says “I WON’T give up.”
Who delights in my “good days” and holds to hope in my “bad days”, too.