Adulting in God's Eyes

ADULTING IN GOD’S EYES

Mark 10:13-16, Taught by Pastor Tom Lacey at Church on the Hill, March 10, 2024

There’s a difference between being a kid and an adult, a child and a parent. Scripture says, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish things.” When do we grow up? When do we become an adult? 1 Corinthians 14:20 says, “Brothers and sisters, do not be children in your thinking; rather, be infants in evil, but in thinking be adults.” This is like the time that an irate woman burst into the bakery and said, “I sent my son in for two pounds of cookies this morning, but when I weighed them there was only one pound. I suggest you check your scales.” The baker looked at her calmly for a moment and then replied, “Ma’am, I suggest you weigh your son.”

Becoming an adult isn’t a matter of age, of being 18 and voting and going into the military, or 21 and legally being able to drink alcohol. It’s not because you move out of the parents’ house, or have a bigger or more important job, or get married, or have a mortgage or a child or even grandchildren.

We’re adults when we can take a part of ourselves and hand it over to someone else. We’ve made it a long way toward God’s will for grown-ups when we realize we’re no longer a child who takes and needs, but the one who gives and shares. Being an adult in God’s eyes takes a conversion from feeling needy, incapable, and not responsible to the much better condition of comprehending your calling, position, and significance. When we understand what is asked of us by our children or demanded of us by our desire to grow up in God’s sight, becoming of full use to the Lord, then we see how we are to be givers of gifts and bestowers of blessings.

Too many however are still waiting to be given before they become givers. They live with a mentality of spiritual scarcity, weakness, and frailty. It’s a mindset steeped in a doubt of abundance. Whether we hear ourselves think it, our fragility sounds like this: “If I give something to someone else, then I will lose what I need.” Adults who have yet to grow to maturity are those who still hang on, who grasp what little they have, not having confidence nor faith in an abundant God nor in their blessing self.

We’re not fully grown if we believe we don’t have enough to share. If deep down we still see ourselves as not yet having enough blessings inside of us to let them out to someone else, then we have yet to come to spiritual adulthood. We can’t feel needy inside and be a blessing to those outside. How can you feed someone else if you’re still hungry yourself?  

Find your way to being blessed. Look again at your dad or mom to find the ways they loved you, and fought for you, and sacrificed for you, out of their love and hope for the best for you. See the good they did for you. Let go of the negative things that too often we let define us.

Our scripture makes sure we see Christ surrounded by plenty of children. This isn’t about one child coming to him. Oh, no. Every picture of this scene always has him surrounded by children while his love and grace and peace and joy and blessing pour out of him and spill over and around the girls and boys in his embrace and presence. His unconditional acceptance and affirmation of the children stand in contrast to those who wanted to keep Jesus on a schedule, locked tight into expectations and duty, draining the unmeasured and unhindered amount of sharing and giving he would offer to all who wanted his blessings.

How he would look at them. How he would glow at their smiles, or be concerned about their fears, written on their faces. How he would lift the little ones and embrace them closely. How he would speak to the bigger ones, instilling confidence and trust in themselves and the God who loves them. How he praised them, laughed and prayed with them, believed in them. Christ blessed. He gave them what they needed. He shared his goodness with them.

Paul Tournier, the late Swiss psychiatrist-theologian, used the story of Esau to describe a certain type of psychological problem which he was constantly dealing with in his therapy. He called it “The Unblessed Child.” It had nothing to do with the gifts of the child, or the ability of the child, or the opportunities in life the child enjoyed, or even material possessions. It had to do with a child not being blessed, not feeling approved by parents, feeling they didn’t make the grade.

This morning I want to go back into the Esau-Isaac story but lean more on the emotional impact of Isaac’s betrayal. The twentieth chapter of Genesis is a family saga, a broken family saga. Before Isaac dies, he wants to bless his oldest son, Esau. The problem was there wasn’t an agreement as to which of the sons should be blessed. Esau was the oldest, and was Isaac’s favored. He was more athletic and an outdoorsman. Mom Rebekah favored Jacob, who was more like her, more sensitive, and probably more spiritual.

While Esau is out hunting and cooking his dad’s favorite meal, per Isaac’s request, Rebekah hatches and executes a deceptive plot through which Jacob receives Isaac’s one and only blessing to end all blessings of the male heir. Jacob immediately leaves home and hearth to get as much distance between him and Esau as possible.

Having done exactly what his father asked him to do, Esau returns to learn of Jacob’s betrayal and his father’s finished act. Such was the power of Isaac’s words, that Esau knew his father could not take back what was already said. Instead, he asked, “Have you but one blessing, my father? Bless me, even me also, O my father.”

There isn’t enough anguish in my voice to properly communicate what was in Esau’s heart when he said, “Bless me too, my father.” To be unblessed was unthinkable for Esau. It was tragic. He was shattered. He was undone, and he feared he would always remain unfinished as a son and child who hoped to grow to be a father and a man.

Too many don’t feel or have the blessing they needed.

When Pete Rose broke Ty Cobb’s longstanding record for the most career hits, a reporter asked him what he thought about as he stood on base with the whole stadium on its feet cheering wildly. Rose said that he thought that his dad was probably looking down from heaven and was pleased with him. Of all the things Pete Rose could think about at that moment, as a grown man he was still thinking about his father’s approval.

Perhaps we haven’t stopped seeking this, even as adults, even when we’re the parents.

When we’re younger we believe it can’t be that hard to be a parent. We know this because if our parents would do things as we think they should do them, then they would be good parents. Then it’s our turn. Turns out it’s not as we thought it would be many times.

The truth is it’s easy to be a parent when you do it like you’ve been taught, that is, by what you saw your parents do and heard what your parents said. Those are deeply engrained behaviors and reactions, easy to pull up and act out as parent. It’s tougher to be a parent however if you want to do it differently—and we all want to do it differently, and by differently we mean better! LOL.

When we have children, even if we feel quite inadequate to the task, there are things we want to give. It’s built into the parenting instinct. But there is one spiritual thing above all that children really need: to be blessed. If this were easy, then parenting would be easy. But that’s just not true.

A pastor said, “My dad was not articulate, not good with words. I never remember hearing my father say, ‘I love you.’ He was not a secure person. He didn’t feel comfortable about how well he did things, although when he learned to do something he could do it repeatedly. He was not physically affectionate. I never remember him touching me and putting his arms around me. Lots of people have or had parents like that.

I went to see him in Idaho. We sat. All he liked to talk about was coon hunting. He had this dog named Ol’ Rock, and I heard the Ol’ Rock stories again and again. We couldn’t talk about each other or our relationship. While he was out milking the cows, I got curious about his old suitcase. I opened that suitcase up, and it was filled with every clipping that ever had a picture of me or my name in it, every church bulletin that had ever been mailed to him, everything in that suitcase had my name on it. I looked down into all that clutter and thought, ‘My dad is very proud of me,’ and I felt blessed.”

Nothing blesses a child more than knowing they’re loved and affirmed. This needs to be felt by the child and communicated by the parent. When they’re little, it comes by touch, by holding, by looking, by talking, by giving attention, even or especially when it’s not exactly how you think it should go. It comes through not getting too angry when they do what we think they should know not to do, or not do what we think they should know to do.

Sort of like this dad did: Teddy came thundering down the stairs, much to his father's annoyance. “Teddy,” he called, “how many more times have I got to tell you to come down the stairs quietly? Now, go back up and come down like a civilized human being.” There was a silence, and Teddy reappeared in the front room. “That's better,” said his father. “Now will you always come downstairs like that?” “Fine with me,” Teddy said. “I slid down the banister.” Sometimes, it’s tough to win.

 What I’m saying is we should know who the adult in the room is and then talk and act like one. We have been given plenty. We’re filled with more than enough. As scripture says, “And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” Be a blesser and a giver. We don’t need to take anymore. Let us abound in good works that God asks us to be about.

Can the church say Amen?