It sat in the living room for weeks taking up far more space than I would have desired. Yet it seemed to bring joy to our grandson. After installing a new appliance, we saved the box thinking he might enjoy playing in it when he came to visit. And our thinking quickly proved to be right, so we kept it lying on its side. When he came, he would often crawl in and out, enjoying a toddler-sized private room.
On one occasion, it was just him and me. So we played together. We played, ‘On your mark! Set! Go!’ followed by the pitter pat of his tiny feet rushing across the floor in an imaginary race. Later we created our own form of peek-a-book looking through the open slats of the chair back in the dining room. He seemed thrilled as he giggled, almost screaming with delight at times. His excited expressions were infectious. We laughed and laughed.
And of course, we eventually found our way to the box. He proudly sat all the way against the back, while I edged in beside him. Since I was too big for the box, I laid on my side with my head close to him and my feet stretched out across the floor. His happy face seemed to be saying, ‘This is so cool! You’re in here with me! Isn’t this a great little hideaway for me and my friend?’ His joy tickled my heart. Thankful for a moment of rest, I hoped we would enjoy the haven for a bit. But ever bounding with energy, he was soon out and on the move again.
Following his abrupt exit, I stayed in the box for a few moments thinking he might soon return. My visibility was greatly limited because my head and torso were still in the box. I simply could not see the little guy that was providing me with so much entertainment. But I could hear him. So I continued to recline there for a short time, listening carefully, fully recognizing his need for my attentiveness to keep him from harm.
In those few moments of rest, my thoughts turned heavenward. I began to consider that our view of life’s events are often limited much like my narrow view from the box.
I could see only about a three-foot portion of the living room in front of me. My peripheral vision was completely impeded.
While I could hear my little grandson all around me, I could not see him unless he stepped right in front of me. I could guess at what he was doing or where he was going, but I could not fully see his movements.
Then I wondered how often we might limit God based on the confined view we have, much like looking through a reduced opening of a box. Do we think He can only move in our lives based on that which we can perceive? Since He created our world and universe, can He not create even that which we cannot imagine? Perhaps we can hear and feel Him all around us, though we simply cannot see what He is doing or what His next move might be.
Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
There is evidence all around us of God’s existence as displayed in nature. But again, often we simply cannot see the full picture. While His view is unlimited, ours is confined.
Yet do we call to Him with an invitation to join us? Or better yet, like the toddler who later joined me in the box again, do we take time to enter the realm of His presence? Perhaps our concerns would be calmed if we would still our activities to worship Him, taking time to sit in His presence.
The precious little boy I shared that time with entered and exited his play box a number of times. He seemed thrilled and delighted as I joined in his play. And I, too, enjoyed the giggles and a time of playful refreshment. May we learn to find enjoyment and refreshment, encouragement and strength, as we learn to play and rest in the presence of Him who created us.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
And may we always remember, His view is far greater than ours. He truly can be trusted.
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