Promises

 What happens when we cling to promises God never made? This was the starting point of a sermon I preached a few weeks back that came to mind due to an incident with my youngest daughter.

I’ve been trying to teach my daughters to negotiate of late. It’s one of those skills I believe everyone needs to master to be competent in any endeavor. Some people call it haggling, I call it wisdom, and I would love for my daughters to be able to negotiate as well as their old man someday.

Since I was in charge of dinner and the consuming thereof the other day, the girls saw their opportunity to negotiate certain perks. They usually don’t haggle with their mother; she’s pretty strict when it comes to eating the green stuff on the dinner plate, but dad’s not so tough, so they thought they’d sweeten the pot a bit, literally.

There’s an outlet store for a chocolate outfit not far from where we live, so once in a while, when they’re having an especially tantalizing sale, I’ll stop by and buy some chocolates. If you ever want to brag about beating an addiction without suffering the indignity of Hunter Biden teeth, there are worse things than Lindt chocolates.

Since I’d made a chocolate run a few days prior, there was a bag with an impressive variety of Lindor truffles on the counter. Seeing as taste is subjective, my definition of good might not live up to yours, but in my estimation, they’re good. No, they’re not for the chocolate snobs who insist on calling it ganache and ask what region of France it was made in, but for mass-produced truffles, they’re yummy.

Once the plates were on the table and the green beans properly parsed out, the haggling began. It was the little one that decided to try her hand at it, and since I taught her well, she put out a feeler question to gauge where they stood.

“What do we get if we finish all the green beans, daddy?”

At this point, an amateur would make an offer, not realizing that the first rule of any successful negotiation is to let the other guy throw out a number first.

“What do you want?” I asked in a mock-serious tone.

“One chocolate each if we finish.”

“Deal,” I answered, smiling.

Chocolate is a good motivator for kids to eat their vegetables. I know; you don’t have to tell me. I should write a book on parenting. Maybe a book for new dads. Maybe call it Let Them Eat Cake!

 Even though my wife vehemently disagrees with bribing your children to eat their dinner, extraordinary measures must often be taken when she's not around. I get where she’s coming from, but I would have let them have chocolate anyway; I might as well get them to finish their food as well.

Both girls finished their vegetables; each got a high five for making it to the clean plate club, then the little one, with all the brazenness of a cat burglar at full dark, goes and grabs a handful of truffles and makes to slink off.

“Booger, what are you doing?” I asked. Booger is my nickname for her. I know; it should be princess, but what can you do? I called her that once when she was two, and it stuck.

“You promised, daddy!” she said in an innocent voice, still clinging to the handful of truffles. “You said!”

“What did I say, exactly, Malina Rose Boldea?”

She knows that when I use her full name, it’s no longer a joking matter.

“That we could have chocolates,” she said.

“How many?”

“One,” she answered, putting the chocolates back in the bowl, then taking one.

I get the feeling many believers will entreat God in like fashion. They will insist that God promised them something He never did, and when they get called on it, they will have no defense for their position.

Make certain that God actually promised the things you think He did and the things you cling to as your safety blanket concerning the season in which we are about to enter.

God will always keep the promises He makes to His children, but He is not obliged to, nor will He keep promises He never made. I think we’ll rustle up a few for next time. Suffice it to say, most of the things modern-day preachers insist God promised, God never did. Isn’t that a sticky wicket?

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.