The wheels turned and my heart raced. We were late for school. Again.
“Mom, what happens if we’re late?” he asked, eyes brimming with worry threatening to spill over.
And the truth is . . . nothing happens if we’re late. He’ll get marked as tardy. The end. No one takes away his birthday. The tardy police don’t cart you off to tardy jail where all the late people live. Life still goes on.
But to a child, the small seems big and the big unimaginable.
We live in a broken world and at times, it can feel so hopeless. So overwhelming. So encompassing. So tiring.
Negative emotions dim the lights of our souls and spits-out exhaustion. The firm grip of exhaustion feeds us lies we so easily believe because well . . . we’re tired. And before we know it, we allow those lies to become ingrained in who we are.
And yet . . . there is always, always hope.
A few days ago, we were in the car (yes, again) and the same son who was worried about being tardy started asking questions about bombs. I have no idea where it came from.
“Does anyone have a bomb that could destroy the whole world?” he asks, big browns hopeful I would say no.
And as much as I want to say no, as much as I want to reassure him that could never happen, I also believe in telling my kids the truth.
So I did.
He listened to the answer he didn’t want to hear and was quiet for a moment.
“That’s OK, Mom. We know how the story ends,” he shares and moved on to what was for lunch that day.
But as I drove, my eyes filled with tears over the way God gently reminds me of His truth through my children.
We don’t have to have all the answers. We don’t have to understand hard questions. We don’t have to be gripped with fear.
We know how the story ends.
And this doesn’t mean there won’t be suffering. This doesn’t mean we’ll live on Easy Street. And it doesn’t mean life here will always be beautiful.
The enemy loves to use fear to paralyze us into inaction.
If we live under the constant threat of fear, then we won’t be very effective in encouraging anyone to love God because if His people are scared, who would wants any part of that?
But knowing how a story ends before the story actually ends is a gift when the ending is beautiful.
And the ending to this story is more than beautiful. It’s hope, love, joy and peace. At last.
Let’s live like people who know the end of the story. Because when you know the beautiful ending, fear has no place at your table.