ABOUT A DECADE AGO my young son and I sat in Katarina’s kitchen with some other invited moms and their children. As we munched on Katarina’s carob-chip cookies, she suddenly clapped her hands. “Let me have your attention,” she said in her German accent. “We will now have worship in the family room.”
Her toddler son, Fritz, scowled. “When can we play?”
“Worship comes first.” Katarina led us to the family room and read a devotional. She then invited us to kneel for prayer.
Everyone complied . . . except Fritz.
Katarina squinted at him. “Get down on your knees, Fritz.”
“I don’t want to.” He delivered his verdict in a sing-song voice.
“We are kneeling to talk to Jesus. Get on the floor.”
“I want to stay here.” The young dissenter pushed farther into the back of the couch.
“Fritz!”
“I’m comperbull.” He hugged a pillow. “It’s soft.”
“Comfortable? Soft?” The pitch of Katarina’s voice rose with each word. “Jesus hung on the cross for you! And you can’t even kneel for Him?” This was one of those moments when I, while kneeling with my eyes half closed, tried to give the impression that I wasn’t listening. But I not only heard every word of their exchange; I couldn’t forget it.
“Jesus hung on the cross for you! And you can’t even . . .”
REALIZATIONS
As those words echoed in my mind over the next months (and still do), I completed the sentence in personal ways:
You can’t even . . .
get up 30 minutes earlier to have devotional time with God.
dig into your vacation fund to help a refugee family.
volunteer your afternoon to move someone’s heavy books.
give up social media every seven days to focus on spiritual thoughts.
As I rehearsed the sentence for myself, I realized that the “can’t” really needed to be “won’t.”
“You won’t even . . .” These were daily choices I was making—choices to stay on the cushy couch when God might be calling me to more spiritual disciplines like prayer, Bible study, temperance, stewardship, and service.
And then I thought about the rich young ruler (Matthew 19:16-22; Mark 10:17-22; Luke 18:18-23). Three gospels record his brief interaction with Jesus, and all three have basically the same details, including the challenge Jesus gave him: “sell your possessions, give to the poor, and follow Me.”
Jesus was telling this young man, “I have so much more to offer you in this life—and the next—if you will only trust Me. If you will give up what you cling to—your time, your resources, your attention.”
He is actually a well-known Bible character because of this galvanizing exchange, but I can’t help but wonder what more we would be reading about if he’d followed Jesus’ call. Jesus pointed out to His followers, “The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).
Does this mean Jesus offers us the better way? Sure, we want to stay in
a warm bed or sit on a soft couch. But what would happen if we gave up our comfort, our security, our old habits, and invited Him to give us the abundant life He has for us?
Fritz did finally get off the couch and onto his knees.
I hope we will do the same.
