Why I am Not God

Honeybun begs nonstop, but she is a polite beggar. Lucky finishes his food at a leisurely pace, savoring each bite of his dog food and eating more slowly than Honeybun. Meanwhile, Honeybun, having finished her breakfast in a nanosecond, hovers nearby. She sometimes creeps closer and closer so that she is inches from his bowl, and then directs a laser beam stare at his food. I usually step in and tell her to back off. She does so submissively, but then pokes her head around the corner watching him. As soon as he finishes eating, she races to the bowl and licks it in case any molecules, any ATOMS remain.

Then it is time for Asherel to be up and about with her breakfast. Honeybun's begging is now in full gear. We are informal here with breakfast, so Asherel sits on the couch with her food, while I teach our Bible study, lit analysis, and general nagging session. Honeybun crawls onto the couch beside Asherel, lays her head on Asherel's lap, and then gazes directly at the food. She never snatches the food, unless we commit the obvious unintentional invitation to do so by leaving the plate unguarded. Just like with Lucky, if we are still at the food trough, she watches us like a hawk but doesn't take what is not yet hers. She doesn't whine, or bark, or do cute things like prop up on her hind legs with folded front legs. No, she just stares with deep and unsatisfied longing, eyes unblinking.

Sometimes, like disciplined dog owners, we banish her from the room. We know if we give in to her, at least as often as she would like, she would be fat and unhealthy. We know we should be more stern, send her to her bed in no uncertain terms. But usually we don't. How can anyone be impervious to such silent pleas, to such longing for what she knows she can't have but wants so desperately?

In the end, I would not want to be God. I know He hears prayers that seem to us the most rational, and sincere, heart wrenching, and righteous requests possible. But at the same time, what we long for with all our heart is sometimes exactly what we don't need, what we shouldn't have, or what must, at least for now, be deferred. Every parent knows this situation, if she is at all careful in raising her children. They often long for things that in the end will destroy them. Despite their breaking hearts, sometimes we have to say, "No" for their own good, their own character development, their own safety. And just like denying Honeybun our food and second breakfasts, they feel we are cruel and uncaring. They don't see the tears we shed on their behalf, because most parents do that deep in the bowels of their closets. So, I would not want to be God. I could not bear the disappointment on the faces of my beloveds through all the years allotted to them on earth. We may have to endure suffering, but God has to watch His beloveds endure it, and that is much worse. He knows it will all be worth it, but they don't. It just seems harsh.

"Do you want a biscuit?" I inevitably ask Honeybun. She perks up and the woebegone look is replaced with delight as she skitters across the floor to the biscuit pantry. Sometimes I even give her two. And that is another reason why I am not God.

Psalm 6:2-3,8-9 (NIV)
Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint; heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony. [3] My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? [8] Away from me, all you who do evil, for the Lord has heard my weeping. [9] The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.

Job 7:2-7 (NIV)
Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, or a hired laborer waiting to be paid, [3] so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me. [4] When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’ The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn. [5] My body is clothed with worms and scabs, my skin is broken and festering. [6] “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope. [7] Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath; my eyes will never see happiness again.

Psalm 71:19-21 (NIV)
Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens, you who have done great things. Who is like you, God? [20] Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. [21] You will increase my honor and comfort me once more.




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