Sing of His Goodness

Ways my Children Point me to God's Astonishing Kindness & Care

“Shout with joy to God, all the earth!
Sing the glory of His name; make His praise glorious!
Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds!”
Psalm 66:1-3

“I lean not on my own understanding.
My life is in the hands of the Maker of heaven.
I give it all to You, God,
trusting that You’ll make something beautiful out of me.”
from “Nothing I Hold On To”¹

“It’s been building for a while and finally reached its boiling point,” I told our pastor yesterday.

Our youngest son has never enjoyed school, and this year has been no different. We made the hard, but necessary, decision to transfer him to a special needs school three years ago, and while it has helped tremendously, it still has its challenges.

We arrived in plenty of time, but twenty minutes later, he still refused to get out of the car. It had become the pattern that week. Monday he was determined to finish a lengthy craft project he started upon waking—making him very late. Tuesday he was determined his coding game creation would walk—making him very late. And Wednesday he was determined to miss school entirely.

Through parenting this amazingly creative, adamant little boy, I’ve developed greater patience and compassion. I’ve been humbled and depleted until I had no fight left. I’ve whispered prayers of “Help me help him God” day after day. I’ve learned to accept (and embrace) my very real limitations and weaknesses and utter dependence on God’s strength. And I’ve become practiced at looking for and marveling at God’s lovingkindness through it all.

The October sun poured bright warmth on me as I peered into the open back door. “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you, honey,” I told him. He moved away from me to the opposite side. I really wish it wasn’t so hard for him. We rehearsed the familiar back-and-forth, the give-and-takes, the choices and the consequences. Relenting, he opened his door. “I’m proud of you, buddy,” I said and meant it.

Assuming I held the door open as an invitation, my dog attempted escape. Getting him safely back inside, I turned to walk my son to the front door. But I didn’t see him. Okay—Where’d he go? I looked around the parking lot. Not there. I searched the school entrance. Not there. I scanned the surrounding field. Not there either. Sometimes in the past when he was upset, he’d storm straight into the school without a word of ‘goodbye,’ so I thought maybe he did that.

His bookbag slung over my shoulder, I headed toward the entrance turning to scan the parking lot every few feet. Using her walkie-talkie, the secretary asked his classroom teacher if my son had arrived. ‘Yes’ we heard in response. I silently thanked God and handed over his lunch and bookbag and proceeded to leave. As I approached my car, however, I could see someone sitting in the backseat. It was my son.

I was baffled. I saw him open the door and get out. He must have got back in without my noticing in the confusion of reigning Chester back in. I sat in the driver’s seat with my head in my hands. I didn’t know what else to do.

Tap. Tap. Tap. on my window. I turned to find his teacher standing next to my car. “He’s in the backseat, Mrs. Doughty!” she shouted through the glass. I got back out and said through welled tears, “I know. I don’t know what to do.” She began patting my back as a dozen staff members ran out of the building looking up and down the road and parking lot and adjoining field searching for the boy they feared lost. “It’s OK!” she shouted waving them over, “we found him!”

As they made their way to us, I heard someone ask, “Are you all right?”
In the presence of their care and concern, all the stress and panic, embarrassment and fatigue overrode composure, and I shook my head, looked to Heaven, and cried, “Help me God!”

His teacher and behavior specialist stayed behind with us, sat in the car with him, and listened to his tearful frustrations. And eventually, the three of us walked him into school.

I drove home in silence wondering how I must have appeared to all those staff. I don’t usually “fall apart” in front of people. I’ve always been someone who puts on a brave face in public. I never want anyone to see what a mess I truly am inside.
I replayed the scene in my mind and a verse from the psalms suddenly popped into my mind: “I cried to the Lord in my distress and He heard me.”

He heard me. The Sovereign Creator of the universe heard my cry for help. Me—just an animated figure of dust. And He brought those wonderful, gifted, compassionate people out to help me.

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I came home and saw the clay figures my boys enjoy making on the table.

And it struck me.
The Gospel.

I looked at those little creatures and saw their many intricate details. So carefully and thoughtfully made. I imagined my son breathing life into them so that they lived. In my vision, these little living lumps of clay began running around killing each other, raising their fists at their creator, shouting “I hate you!”
But because my son loved his creation, he did not immediately smash them all. Instead, he decided to come into their world and take on their flesh. Greatly shrinking and confining himself to do so.
And then he let them kill him.

Wouldn’t that be madness?
Except that’s what our Lord did. So that in His death He paid the debt their sin owed and rose again so that anyone who came to faith in Him could live with Him for all eternity.
Astonishing.
It’s no wonder “the message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction.” (1 Cor 1:18 NLT)
Who among us would do that for such worthless creatures of our own imagining?

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He not only gave us life, but He sustains it. He not only created the natural world, He moves toward it. From the tiniest seeds to the rains that water them to the fruit they bring forth for food. He nourishes His creation with love and attention and joy.
One day many years ago, He rose from His throne and entered it. And one day yet to come, He will return to it. And all the days in between, He nurtures, guides, comforts, and protects.

________________________

“I love you, Lord,
for Your mercy never fails me.
All my days, I’ve been held in Your hands.
From the moment that I wake up
until I lay my head
I will sing of the goodness of God.

All my life You have been faithful.
All my life You have been so, so good.
With every breath that I am able
I will sing of the goodness of God.”²

Thank you, Lord.
Your faithfulness never fails.

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1. For an incredibly beautiful rendition of a medley of praise, “Worship with Friends” sings Psalm 23, The Goodness of God, and Nothing I Hold On To in a live recording on YouTube. Here’s the link. Enjoy and Be Blessed!

2. See the first footnote. =)