Bethany Community Church

Ted Trigg, Worship Director

As I was leaving work today, I called my wife to say that I was on my way home. Her reply shocked me: She told me not to get in an accident, because my four-year-old son was worried I was dead. He had asked her earlier in the day if I would die when he grew up. She gave him the brutal, honest truth: Yes. He had been dwelling on that all day and eventually started crying about it.

After I hung up, I started crying too. No four-year-old should have to think about this. I have only the Lion King to thank for this. Mufasa, father to Simba the Lion King, dies while saving his son’s life. This is where my son got this fear. From Disney for crying out loud!

So when I got home he and I did the usual stuff-wrestle, run around the house before bed, brush teeth, read stories, pray. Then I got him in bed and he asked me the same question. Will I die when he grows up? What ensued was a rather long discussion about heaven and who will be there. I told him about my life and the losses I had growing up. We talked about grandpa who passed away this past year. I cried through most of it.

I was crying for him, but I was also crying about a realization that I have kept under wraps for a long time. I’ve known about it, but this incident with my son pushed it to the forefront of my consciousness. I am waiting for God to take away from me the things I love. I am waiting for the axe to fall. I don’t trust Him.

What an odd realization. I work for a church and I don’t trust the God I supposedly serve? The fact is I want to be around for my kids. I don’t want them to grow up without a father. I want to see them play soccer or be on a swim team or learn to play an instrument. I want to see them graduate from high school and college. I want to be at their weddings and see my grandchildren. (I won’t hope for great grandchildren-I’m a little old for that.) Deep inside though, I’m afraid I won’t be.

The worst thing is that there are no promises that I will be around for any of these things. Indeed, the realization that I think God might just pull a fast one is more than disturbing-it is foundation shaking. I work for a church. I’m in the ministry. I’m supposed to believe God, trust that He ultimately has the best in store for me.

And He does. Here is the problem though: His best for us is not always our best for us. We don’t have much say in what we get and all too often what we get is never explained. Why did the cancer take a loved one? Why did the money I invested in the stock market for a nice retirement disappear? Perhaps even more importantly, why did terrorists go on a killing spree in Mumbai? What possible plan does God have in any of this? The only answer I can possibly come up with is that He wants us to believe in what we can’t see. Despite it all and through it all, He has the keys and we have to fall into Him with complete trust.

Today was rather existential. On some level, it suddenly all seemed very meaningless. Jean Paul Sartre would be proud. Albert Camus would quietly nod his head in agreement. Still, I realize I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams when I get the chance to talk to my son about Jesus and heaven.

As I lay in bed, the pain of our conversation is so palpable that I pray that God will grant me the desires of my heart and that if I don’t get what I want, I pray I would be content with what He has gives.