Barb and I have been camping with our grandkids this week. We’ve had some wonderful times with these young ones and our hearts are full to overflowing.
But the matter of freedom has come up a time or two: Why can’t we go to the river by ourselves? Why can’t we ride our bikes on the big road? Why do we have to have a grownup with us? (Ad nauseum? Well, not quite, but we can see it from here.)
They’re pretty convinced we’re standing in the way of the greatest thing ever—absolute, unhindered freedom. But oddly enough, we grandparents just aren’t persuaded that the freedom to drown or get squashed by a car or get lost in the woods is in their best interest.
So the restrictions to their freedom continue, despite the kids’ disapproval and the occasional allegation of “Not fair!”
I can almost hear Jesus drawing the parallel: “So then, if for their good the grandparents restrict the freedoms of their brood, how much more your Heavenly Father!”
Father in Heaven, how often I strain against You—at the very end of the leash, so to speak! Doing so belies that I trust Your restrictions as always only for my good. Forgive me!