My kitchen has a floor space of about 12 square feet. So, when I’m in there cooking or washing dishes or making peanut butter and jam sandwiches, just the act of opening the refrigerator without knocking someone over takes acrobatic skills.
The funny thing is, whenever I go in there, little stray Roys follow. They decide it’s the perfect time to join me, and pretty soon we’re down to three square feet each.
In a humorous way, it’s kind of cute, and I can tell them to get their tushies out of my kitchen without any injuries. But sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly squished, I might get a little snippy.
A few weeks ago, Isaac followed me in. He tried hopping up onto the counter, thinking he would be out of the way up there while I made my chicken broth. But since my counter space is only about 10 square feet, it was either him or the carcass. As he knocked stuff to the ground, I took a breath before telling him to beat it. And then a little miracle happened: he was able to start talking before I had the chance.
“Mommy, don’t you ever think that it’s really amazing that God made you, like only you?” he said.
“Sometimes I think about God not ever beginning, and I can’t even think of it. Sometimes I think that he thought about me before I was even created, and that he made me, the way I am, and already knew me … and I can’t even think about it!”
He was working so hard to describe a really transcendent thought, something quite deep for an eight-year-old. He had one of those moments of futility where you try and imagine eternity. And then, beyond that, he tried to place himself into God’s own intention. Regardless of how far he could go with that, the important part was understood: God made him. Not just some random XY chromosomal mix, but chosen, designed, sculpted, intended, loved, and died for.
I nearly choked on my response, knowing how close I had been to kicking him out of my hula-hoop zone.
“You’re right, Isaac. It’s so crazy to think about. I can’t even understand it. But I’m sure glad he made you. It’s crazy that he decided what you would look like, and the things you would be good at, and even what he wants you to do with your life, and all of it was forever ago!”
If our kids can conquer that simple abstract concept and really take it to heart, I think they will go on to change the world. The countercultural idea that they are not random, not mistakes or burdens, but are created with a purpose by a God who loves them enough to die for them should really change everything.
I would guess that a real and certain knowledge of that truth is what led the saints to their wholehearted love of God, and detachment from the world. What else could drive them to face the world’s scorn, mockery, abuse, prejudice, and death, if not the faith that it all meant something greater than the eye can see?
When St. Maximilian Kolbe offered his life for a stranger, he knew that life was eternal.
When Mother Teresa knelt down into the gutters and touched the lepers, she knew she was touching Christ.
When St. Boniface cut down the idolatrous tree in the face of a mob of angry pagans, he knew that truth can conquer sin and depravity.
And when the early martyrs walked out into a Colosseum of lions rather than put one single grain of incense on the throne of a Roman god, they knew that nothing was worth insulting the God who had first died for them.
They were each doing something planned before time, something fantastic that would be remembered for all history. And the reason they were each able to do these amazing things is that they knew they were made and chosen by an all-loving God. That knowledge was something that somehow transcended feelings and compelled them to act in faithfulness no matter the cost.
Each of our children was known and loved by God before we even knew they existed. It’s really an amazingly frightening thing to think of the great things they may be called to. May we be faithful in our job as parents and teachers, never failing them with mediocrity, relativism, or hypocrisy.
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” (Jer 1:5).