Alan taught me an important lesson about worship, and I wrote about it here. However, he got me again in a most unexpected way. One of his favorite, and I mean favorite toys is his whoopee cushion. He laughs every single time, falling over on the floor, cracking up kind of laughing. Every time. “This never gets old!” he says once he catches his breath again.

That’s what I’m missing. My worship does get old. If it gets old to me, I’m afraid to think how God views it. Thinking about Alan, I found 4 things he had while playing, that I need to infuse into my worship.

Spontaneity - He doesn’t schedule when he plays. It just happens. Real worship can’t scheduled. It naturally flows out of a full heart. (Now- this is NOT to say that real worship can’t happen during our weekly scheduled services. It absolutely should. My point is that is can’t be switched on and off with the clock.)

Focus - When Alan plays, he only has one toy. He’s not thinking ahead to what’s next. He is totally in the moment. I admit, I get in church and my brain wanders off like a toddler in a theme park. (Another story for another day perhaps.)

Energy - Alan goes after that whoopee cushion with gusto. In fact he’s burst a couple of them in his exuberance. Too many times, my worship becomes a passive spectator activity.

Delight - Alan LOVES that whoopee cushion. I need to develop that excitement, that thrill of just being in God’s presence.

Part of my problem is my relationship with God is too formal. I mean, He’s GOD, after all. I can’t just… you know… And I realize this is an issue. In the last year or so, God has gently been guiding me toward real intimacy with Him, not just ‘knowing about” Him, but having that sense of belonging. Letting go of shame was one step on that road. Genuine worship is another.

Alan had a rough time starting third grade. He was in a new school building, mixed in with some new kids, and for a while it was a daily battle to get out the door in the morning. He was intimidated (okay, bullied) by a couple of boys and bought into everything they said, especially what they said about him.

We tried to remind him that he could choose how he responded, that no matter what those boys said, we knew the truth. Some days it helped. Other days… not so much. Even as I tried to help him out, I was faced with my own question. How often do I let someone (whose opinion shouldn’t matter anyway) have control over my attitude and my day? Way, way too often.

What seemed to make the difference with Alan was when he heard all these things from Jon. They worked out a way to deal with the daily aggravation, with the key factor being spending some time with Dad in the morning before school.

Fact is, the opinions that do count are held by the people who love me, and God is the top of the list. He loves me with an everlasting love. He chose me and He’s going to show me His riches in glory because of Jesus Christ.

Bottom line- It shouldn’t matter what anybody else thinks cause my Daddy loves me.

I love my girls. They’re both sweet, smart, funny, beautiful… (I could go on and on.) My son, though, has taught me so much about the heart of my Father. Alan’s had a tough week. He’s in a new school this year, and all the anxiety seemed to crash in on him at once. On Tuesday. I picked him up early after he ended up in the office with an upset stomach- again. Eventually, he admitted that he’s afraid he’s going to get in trouble, or he’s going to mess up an assignment, or… There was a list of worries.

I hugged him, brainstormed with him how things could be better, and made his favorite dinner. And yesterday morning… he sat in the car in tears again. I wish I could fix it for him. I wish I could smooth out the path in front of him (and the girls) so he never has heartbreak or struggle or pain… but I can’t. I have to stand by and watch him go through these things. I can hug him. Comfort him. Commiserate with him. Yes. But he has to face this himself.

In a greater way, the heart of my Father God, is that tender towards my struggles. He knows it’s hard. He knows it hurts, but yet, He also knows I have to face it. Even Jesus Christ faced extreme suffering. Thankfully, my Father God has the power to redeem the hard times, so that they turn out for my good and His glory. And while I can’t be with my son during his school day, God never leaves my alone.

When I was in Florida this past summer, I stood on the beach the very first day and watched wave after wave roll in around my ankles. A mother stood nearby helping her little boy jump the waves. As I watched, I heard a whisper in my soul. “See that?” God said. “I will not stop the waves, but I will NEVER let go of your hand.”