Job XXII

 Among the household responsibilities my wife and I divide among ourselves, picking up the girls from school is high on the list. Sometimes one has an after-school activity such as volleyball, so the other must be picked up early, or my wife has an afternoon meeting and I have to pick up both, but communication being the key to a healthy relationship, we figure out who’s picking up whom that morning over breakfast and, as yet, no child has had to have the front office call one of us reminding us to come pick them up.

We make it work. We have to. We’re parents responsible for two pre-teen girls who have more of a social calendar than we did combined as adults, but I guess that’s just the way of things nowadays, with extracurricular activities, sports, music class, adventure club, Bible study, and a handful of other things that make us feel like an odd combination of chauffer and indentured servant.

Whenever it’s my turn to pick them up, the conversation goes the same way. I ask them how their day went, and they regale me with stories, whether of making a new friend, doing well on a test, learning a new fun fact, or not liking what mom packed them for lunch since it contained the dreaded green stuff. She knows I never eat the broccoli, but she still packs it, to which I answer, because she loves you. Not everything they share with me is positive. They don’t hold back on discussing bad experiences, whether it’s the naughty boy in class pulling their hair or not having made any new friends this year.

I’ve often said that fatherhood helps you understand the heart of God better than any seminary course on the attributes of God ever will. It’s hands-on, and you’re emotionally invested. It’s your child that comes to you with a smile on their face or tears in their eyes. It’s your child who needs an encouraging word, a high five, or a long, heartfelt hug. God’s not a stranger. He is our Father who is in heaven, and whether it’s to share our joy or our sorrow, we run to Him, always, every time, without fail.

Whenever either of my daughters approaches me, they know I will take the time to listen. I will not reject them, ignore them, tell them to come back later because I’m busy doing something else, or act aloof or indifferent. I love them. They are mine to protect, provide for, teach, instruct, see myself in, and yes, sometimes correct.

One of the most frequent discussions I have with my wife is whether we’re making life too easy for our girls. We are each other’s accountability partners in this area because I grew up poor, and my instinct is always to spoil them. All the while, I know that if they grow up thinking life is easy and there will be no hurdles to overcome, I’m not doing them any favors. I know what it’s like to walk into a store, want something, and have your mother tell you we can’t afford it. I still remember the look in my mom’s eyes whenever such situations came about, and I learned to ask less frequently because of the evident pain in her countenance whenever she’d have to deny a request.

Conversely, growing up the way we did made me more resilient. It taught me the value of a dollar and the importance of not shying away from hard work. These are good virtues that I want my daughters to possess, and if it means saying new to a new pack of gum until the last one we bought is done, even though wintergreen isn’t their favorite flavor, so be it.

Job knew God as Father and knew he would not be turned away. He knew that God's presence was the only place he could be, where he could pour out his heart, cry out, and verbalize his pain, and that God would listen.

As any good Father would be, God is involved and invested in the lives of His children. He desires to see Himself in us, and although momentarily it would seem loving if He let us have all the cotton candy our hearts desire, He knows that eventually, the stomach ache that would ensue would be more harmful by far. I’ve seen spoiled children who pitch a fit and roll on the floor in the middle of a supermarket, and it’s not something I want to see in my own daughters. I’ve seen toddlers bunch up their little fists and strike out at their mothers for denying them their third Kit Kat bar or scream like their hair was on fire because the adult chose to put back the mountain of stuffies they’d thrown into the shopping cart.

God has a reason and purpose for allowing trials and testing in our lives; whenever such things happen, we trust in His goodness and providence. We know He is good, we know He is loving, and we know that our temporary affliction is creating an eternal weight of glory in us.

If Job had known God as a cruel taskmaster, one absent love and affection, his first instinct would not have been to run to Him in worship. The most important knowledge one must possess amid trial is the character of the God they serve. We cannot separate the love and goodness of God from the trials of life. He does not cease being good or loving when He allows hardship to buffet us. There is a purpose in it, perhaps, momentarily out of the reach of our limited understanding, and knowing this, we press into Him all the more.

God tests your strengths. The devil focuses on your weaknesses. There is a difference in approach as well as the intended goal. While God’s testing is meant to strengthen you, solidify you, teach you to trust Him and walk in greater faith, Satan’s attacks are intended to weaken, cripple, and destroy you. It’s the difference between holding on to the bicycle seat as your daughter is learning to ride a two-wheeler for the first time, jogging alongside, ready to catch them if they fall, or kicking the bike out from under them, hoping they get a concussion in the process. In either case, the child will exhibit fear and anxiousness, as they are trying to do something they’ve never done before, the bike wobbling, and their reaction uncertain, but one is intended to grow them and teach them something while the other is needlessly cruel and hurtful. Know the difference and react accordingly.

James 1:2-4, “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.