God in a Box

God fits in a box. Let me rephrase that.

I try to make God fit in a box.

I hate to admit it, but sometimes I try to crease, fold and then shove God into a metaphorical 6-sided contraption (there are 6 sides to a box, right?)

Don't get me wrong. I know I can’t possibly do that. After all, God is omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. But no matter how omni-whatever I know he is, I still try my hardest to put him into something I can manipulate, handle and understand.

For the most part, when I go to God, I have my little mental checklist of things to cover with him. But this morning, as I was going thorough my list of "things to talk with God about," I realized exactly what I was doing. I was trying to fit God into a neat little package.

I guess another way to say it is that I was limiting, in my own mind at least, who God is, what he can see, how much he loves and what he can do in my life.

I know I'm not actually limiting him. But the reality is that so often I don’t open myself up enough to see that there's so much more to God than what I can understand.

I think too often I get in a routine with God. And when you get routine with the supernatural, it can become something you try to tame. But God is untamable. He’s, well, un-boxable.

So I’m thankful that, even though I try, God will never fit into the box I try to put him in. And I’m even more thankful that he’ll forgive me for even trying.

He's Just a Little Boy

Jackson is starting his 3rd season of baseball next week. Little League baseball. But the word "little" doesn't describe his excitement. He's at the stage right now that, if you asked him what he wants to do when he grows up, he'd say, "I'm going to be a professional baseball player!" And to that I say, "Go for it!"

But for now, I have to remind myself that he's just just a little boy. It's hard, because when he's on the field (and actually paying attention) he seems so much older. He focuses. He hustles. He swings with all he's got. And he dives for ground balls like he's Derek Jeter. But again, he's still just a little boy.

I came across this poem this morning that hopefully will help me remember that. I don't know who wrote it. But I think it's something every parent needs to keep in mind.

So If you're going to be in the stands at any little league games - from baseball to football and everything in between - keep these words in mind. And remember...

He stands at the plate with heart pounding fast. The bases are loaded; the die has been cast. Mom and Dad cannot help him, he stands all alone. A hit at this moment, would send the team home.

The ball nears the plate; he swings and he misses. There's a groan from the crowd, wiith some boos and hisses.

A thoughtless voice yells out, "Strike Out the bum!" Tears fill his eys; the game is no longer FUN. Remember - He is just a little boy who stands all alone.

So open your heart and give him a break, for it's at moments like this, a man you can make. Keep this in mind when someones forgets, he's just a little boy, not a man...yet.