Mohawks & Bop It!s

One of the biggest perks of parenting are all the low-cost life lessons. Likenings abound with kids around; we compare our realities to deeper spiritual realities. Mohawks and BopIt!s are fresh from last week.


Gabe had a mohawk. Technically, it was a fauxhawk. But, hair today, gone tomorrow. Or last Saturday; Gabe’s lasted five days. (The ‘stache stuck around for an hour or two; a night’s VBS curio.)

Dress the part. Look professional, act professional. Wear pro-flare pants, play fab baseball. Sport a mohawk, play a fierce rebel. Hence, Gabriel had a mohawk.

Gabe was more aggressive, assertive and rebellious last week. I caught him a few times by the mirror: chin up-defiant, sly-grin gazing. He swaggered and sparred. Gabe doesn’t usually swagger. (He does often spar. But not with that zest and zeal.) 

A recent post about dressing up included a lengthy Lewis quote. To identify as a child of God, he wrote, means you dress the part. Even to pray the Lord’s Prayer implies a certain style. And it’s way more than mohawks and mullets, fauxhawks and flattops.  But I don’t think it’s less. 

Its very first words are Our Father. Do you now see what those words mean?  They mean, quite frankly, that you are putting yourself in the place of a son of God.  To but it bluntly, you are dressing up as Christ. If you like, you are pretending…In a way, this dressing up as Christ is a piece of outrageous cheek. But the odd thing is that He has ordered us to do it.   

-C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, pp. 160

As God’s chosen people, holy and beloved, we’re told to put on compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience (Colossians 3:12). That dress might feel funny. Clothing ourselves with Christ will be awkward and unnatural sometimes. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; I ought to feel awkward wearing frayed jeans to work. Or Nikes to a wedding. 

The inverse is also true. What feels good and natural might be all wrong. Gabe thought the fauxhawk looked really good. 

I love it mom; it’s so cool, he said. You cut it just right, he said.

The wardrobe thing is a perennial problem. Jude forewarned of scoffers who follow ungodly desires and mere natural instincts and do not have the spirit. (vv. 18-19) Natural and spiritual garments may clash.  

I know. We look at mullets and mohawks, but the Lord looks at the heart. The clothes might not make the man. 

But still dress the part. 

BopIt! (Tetris)

Two months post-birthday, his $20 gift card had smoldered a hole in his pocket. Visions of Lego ships danced in his head. But then days before the Wal-Mart run, caring parental collaboration resulted in the Edict of Dad. It dashed all Lego hope: 

Thou shalt buy off any shelf in the toy aisles, but from the Lego rack thou shalt not buy. 

Grief’s stages were predictable: denial (It’s my gift card, I can spend it on whatever I want.), followed by anger (That is SO! SO! NOT! FAIR!!), then bargaining. Lots of bargaining. Big-time negotiation by both sons.

Aw, Dad, we’ll just get a little Lego ship.  We just need that one ship. and 

Can’t I just spend half  on a little Legos kit? and

After this one we won’t need to buy any more Legos, I promise!

Desire re-ignited as we pushed our cart through housewares to toys. Oh, the sway of lustful eyes. Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.  (Jonah 2:8) We reached the Lego aisle; now within arm’s reach of Lego Star Wars and Chima, Lego Super Heroes and Angry Birds, and-agony of agonies- Lego Minecraft. Still I held the line. Even in Desperation’s words.

You are so mean. You are the meanest Mom. And then, the mother of juvenile manipulation: I wish I wasn’t your son. 

Kinetic sand, Connect 4, and Angry Birds Mega Fling all took a backseat to Bop It! Tetris. It was an instant slide it, spin it, slam it MEGA HIT. Tetris on the 7 year-old brain, round the clock:

Can I take it to bed with me, please, Mom? 

And on the way home from VBS he told my sister:

I am so sorry to interrupt, Aunt Danielle, but I just can’t stop thinking about my Bop It! Tetris. It is so fun! I used to not even know what it was, but it is awesome. 

Gabe interjected at random times to say, and this one is verbatim:

Mom, I can’t tell you how much I love this game.  I am just telling you because I just love it.

We pray, submitting our requests: Legos or healing or the sale of a house. An infinitely wise, infinitely good God may say no. Instead, he does a new thing. What spring up might just be immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. Not another set of tiny plastic pieces awash in a Lego sea, but a Bop It! Tetris.

Immeasurably more.

I am beginning to feel that we need a preliminary act of submission not only towards possible future afflictions but also towards possible future blessings. On every level of life-in our religious experience, in our gastronomic, erotic, aesthetic, and social experience- we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting that up as a norm, and depreciating all other occasions by comparison. But these other occasions, I now suspect, are often full of their own new blessing, if only we would lay ourselves open to it. God shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it because we’re still looking for the old one

-C.S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm 



Go Bold

And I pleaded with the LORD at that time, saying
“O LORD GOD, you have only begun to show your servant your greatness and your mighty hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do such works and mighty acts as yours?    Please let me go over and see the good land beyond the Jordan, that good hill country and Lebanon.” 

But the LORD was angry with me and would not listen to me.  
And the LORD said to me, “Enough from you; do not speak to me of this matter again. Go up to the top of Pisgah and…look at it with your eyes, for you shall not go over this Jordan.” 
Deuteronomy 3:23-27

How do you handle NO? Does self-protection keep you from asking? Do you resist requesting to avoid the dreaded monosyllable? 

Stop, Mom, please!  Can we stop and talk to Emma and Isaac?  Please, mom?

That request interrupted our drive home a few nights ago. The boys had spotted their friends’ whole family out in the yard. I wasn’t in a particularly friendly mood. Besides, it was dinnertime.

But Christ’s love compels, and I turned around. Maybe they’d like to come to Vacation Bible School with us, I said off-handedly as we pulled up the driveway.

After reintroducing myself, I got the scuttlebutt on the boys’ school. We discussed 20-inch bike tires needed by our lengthening sons. After a few more minutes we said good-bye. Then, as we reached the van, Gabe blurted (at about 75dB),

Mom, aren’t you gonna ask them to come to VBS?   

I hadn’t sensed an openness during our visit, and honestly, I didn’t want to risk the NO. But.

Ohhh…yes, okay.  (Followed by an awkward about face toward the house.)  

Hi again. Gabe reminded me that I wanted to ask if Isaac and Emma could come to Vacation Bible School with us next week. I mumbled times and places; they smiled and nodded. Would you be interested?  

Then: No thank you.

My friend Lisa is insightful. She intuits the counter-intuitive.

So being meek and making such bold requests can go together? Moses was the meekest man on earth. Yet he dared to ask God to change his mind. 

Prima facie, making bold requests is not meek. The Bible study group had been discussing the meek acts of Moses. Among them were some mighty big favors. Like asking his brother-in-law to stay and play wilderness scout for 40 years. Asking God to relent of the punishments he’d decreed for Miriam and the Israelites is very bold.  His requests were fearless and daring, pushing brash.

Atop the gutsy list was Moses’ plea to God to reconsider his own punishment. He had struck the Rock, profaning the LORD before the congregation (Numbers 20:10-11). God’s just decree was heart-wrenching: despite 40 years guiding this beloved, provoking people, Moses would not lead them into the Promised Land. Joshua would.

Canaan was so close Moses could-probably had-tasted it; it’s gargantuan grapes, pomegranates and figs. Then with arms outstretched, he’d seen the Amalakites fall. The kingdoms of Sihon and Og had already been conquered. Just across the Jordan.

The Child’s Story Bible is succinct:

This was a bitter disappointment to Moses.  He begged God to let him cross the river so that he, too, could see the longed-for promised land.  God did not give Moses what he asked for.  

“Be satisfied with what I have decided,” God said to him. “Do not speak about this any more.  Climb this mountain, and I will show you the land. Then you are to die here on this mountain. For you are not to cross the river.” 

What a blow! If meekness is strength under control, this must be its pinnacle. In the face of bitter disappointment, the meek man of God managed his emotions. Moses didn’t stomp off in self-pity. He went bold to God, trusting the Judge of the earth to do right. Then, he took NO.

About his rejection, Matthew Henry comments,

It bore hard upon Moses himself, when he had gone through all the fatigues of the wilderness, to be prevented from enjoying the pleasures of Canaan; when he had borne the burden and heat of the day, to resign the honor of finishing the work to another. We may suppose that this was not pleasant to flesh and blood, But the man MOSES was very meek; God will have it so, and he cheerfully submits

But why was he denied? What about Matthew 7?  You know: Ask and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. Why didn’t Moses win his appeal?  An “unanswered prayer,” post is forthcoming.  For now, let John Piper’s answer suffice:

I think the context here is sufficient to answer this question. No, we do not get everything we ask for and we should not and we would not want to. The reason I say we should not is because we would in effect become God if God did everything we asked him to do. We should not be God. God should be God. And the reason I say that we would not want to get everything we asked is because we would then have to bear the burden of infinite wisdom which we do not have. We simply don’t know enough to infallibly decide how every decision will turn out and what the next events in our lives, let alone in history, should be.

Back to Lisa’s question. Do meekness and bold requests go together? Were Moses’ appeals anomalies; deviations from his meek nature? Or were they part and parcel of it? 

I land on the latter. Here’s why:

The very act of submitting a request, knowing it may be denied is meek. Moses submitted requests. He accepted NO for an answer. This makes him submissive. Therefore, submitting requests, appealing, asking must be integral to meekness.

If I submit an article for publication, odds are it will be rejected. If I request a personal day, it could very well be denied. Big, bold requests get rejected, too: pregnancy, adoption, restored relationships. When they are, sometimes I’m weak without control. Pity parties and ice cream a aplenty. And sometimes, strength under control: spirit gifted power, love and self-control. 

Is it more meek to fear the no so much you don’t go? Or to go bold, willing to take NO? Which is more hopeful and faithful? Which exalts the goodness of God? Scripture is clear: Submit your requests to God. The righteous are as bold as a lion. Come boldly to the throne of grace. The righteous shall live by faith, and if he shrinks back my soul has no pleasure in him. Therefore since we have such a hope, we are very bold. 

Go bold.  In hope. Take NO if you must. You’ll be in good company. Moses, Hannah, and Daniel. Hezekiah plead for his life, and God gave him 15 more years. David appealed for his son’s life, and on the seventh day the child died. David took NO. God will have it so, was good enough for him

It is hard to hope against hope. The urge to protect self looms large. In Allure Of Hope, Jan Myers describes the yearning that wells up. We are just afraid, that’s all. We intrinsically know that hope is a painful process. Yet we want to have the courage to respond in hope anyway. (p. 24) 

Hope in God’s mercy gave Moses courage to appeal his case. But it also empowered him to take NO. And hope in God’s future grace allowed him to transcend his disappointment and stay faithful in all God’s house. 

His exact response to the divine NO is not explicit. But read to the end of Deuteronomy, and you’ll find it. Moses finished strong. He encouraged, warned, blessed the 12 tribes without a hint of rancor.

Hear his love for the Lord who denied, for the people who provoked, in his last words:

“The LORD came from Sinai…he came from the ten thousands of holy ones, with flaming fire at his right hand. Yes, he loved his people, all his holy ones were in his hand; so they followed in your steps receiving direction from you, when Moses commanded us a law…Happy are you, O Israel! Who is like you, a people saved by the LORD, the shield of your help, and the sword of your triumph!” (Deuteronomy 33:2-3, 29)

Then, the very day he delivered that stirring speech,

Moses went up from the plains of Moab…and the LORD showed him all the land. And the LORD said to him, “This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob…I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not go over there.” So Moses the servant of the LORD died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. (Deuteronomy 34:1, 4-5)

Say, do you know who buried Moses?

  He [God] buried him in the valley in the land of Moab… 
Deuteronomy 34:9

Addendum: Not so fast, you say. Not all asking is meek and submissive. I agree.  I can think of at least two types of requests that are not inspired by faith, not full of hope, and certainly not meek.

1. Foolish people make bold requests. Like, when, on a whim, Son A asks,

Mom, could I just have $150 for a Millennium Falcon Lego set?  I really like it.

 Or off-handedly, Son B, asks,

Could I pleeeease have another [third] bowl of Caramel Sea Salt Truffle ice cream for dessert dessert dessert?

Silly, not meek. And not of faith. Sons A and B didn’t honestly think Mom would deliver. Or foolish because they don’t really know what they’re asking.  Like when James and John’s mom asked if her boys could sit beside Jesus in his kingdom.
2. Presumptuous people also ask favors. They assume. Their requests are demands, and may be disguised by tag questions.

You don’t mind watching the kids, do you?  or

You wouldn’t mind if we borrowed your tent [canoe, camper], would you? or

You can read this book before book club, can’t you? (Guilty as charged.)

And so submissive requests morph into brash entitlement. Like Rachel envying Leah’s fertility. Give me children or I’ll die, she told JacobNot so meek.