Somewhere around three decades ago, a small girl stood on the hot sidewalk, outside her 4th grade classroom, with a blank piece of notebook paper. Her head was down, afraid to lift her face toward the sun, she watched a tiny shadow on the concrete-as the eclipse showed itself through the punched hole in the paper. It was a bit boring, and slow moving, and she had no idea the risk involved. No idea.
Fast forward to the same small girl, now grown, staring once again at a piece of paper, this time outside her daughter’s classroom—but this paper was not blank, it had the risks involved in watching an eclipse and at the bottom--a place for her signature.
Do you understand the risks involved?
Will you allow your child to participate in learning activities involving the eclipse?
Will you allow her to even go outside that day?
Will you promise to never ever hold the school responsible for permanent eye damage that may occur?
Do you even love your child at all?
Don’t you care about her eyesight? Do you understand how risky this all is?
Perhaps the questions were not so dramatic, but as my hand hovered over the signature line, my mind thought of all the schools that were closing Monday because of the eclipse. I thought of the parents who were opting out of the school activities, and I thought of the small girl and her innocence so long ago. And as I signed the paper and listened to the other parents debate their own decision, I started to ponder why I was letting my child participate when so many were others were choosing caution and safety instead.
Is it worth the risk? I asked myself.
Could someone go blind from watching the eclipse? Maybe
Are the chances slim of it happening to a child I know? Yes
Am I willing to risk my own childs eyesight for it? Uh….
This is where I start doubting my decision, but not because I think eclipse watching through a paper tube or a cereal box is a bad idea. No, I start doubting my decision because I know others will think me reckless and even call me a bad parent. I doubt my decision only when others lament how horrible it is and when my voice becomes the minority.
But, reckless is the last thing I am these days. Trust me, I care much for the consequences of my actions—perhaps more than ever before in my life. It is not carelessness that presses the pen onto the paper and signs permission-- it is the willingness to allow a life to be lived. Yes, even at the risk of what some would consider damage.
It is not something I take lightly, and it is something I have thought much about lately— this damage.
SO fearful are we of anything less than perfection that we have created a place in our minds where everything less than this image is damage, and damage is bad.
Except when it isn’t.
One of my uncles traveled through life with a few fingers less than 10, an accident as a youngin’, a reckless adventure that resulted in damage. Yet, he would laugh when he told the story and I imagine he thought the fun was worth the price he paid.
My son is also an adventurer, God help me, and each time I gasp or try to limit his activites with the reminder of how reckless his fun is—he tells me he would rather die doing what he loves, even right in the middle of it. He doesn’t have a death wish and is actually more cautious than I give him credit for, He simply is willing to pay the price for his fun—if the damage ever occurs. To him, it is worth the risk.
And for me, it is too. Although, I have not always felt this way.
I have to seriously consider my daughter could have permanent damage to her eyesight, if she is not careful during the eclipse learning activities. I don’t want that. I don’t wish it for her or underestimate the problems it could cause her later in life.
What I do wish is that she would have a life that results in some “damage”. I don’t want her to die of old age with pristine eyesight, a body without scars, a heart that has never been broken, teeth without stains, or joints without burden. Why? Because those things means she has lived. She used her life and all God gave her.
Now, I am not advocating we should not be good stewards of what God has given us—including our bodies. I also am not belittling those who did not sign permission slips for their children, as we must all decide what is worth the risk for ourselves and our families. Some things are and some things are not, but can I suggest something radical?
Most things are
And the greatest things require the biggest risk.
Perhaps this is why so few choose to live a life completely devoted to Christ—signing that slip that says, Yes, I give permission for God to lead me, guide me, show me the way. Yes, I understand permanent damage could occur—even unto death. Yes, I think I understand the risk involved. Yes, I am going to follow you anyway.
For, nothing appears more reckless than following Jesus. And nothing places you more in the minority than actually living that life every day. And there is damage. Ask the disciples and followers. Ask the missionaries, the martyrs, the pastors, the teachers, the professors, the small girl standing on the sidewalk—trying to reflect His light, sometimes all alone, in the darkness.
Is it worth the risk, you ask?
Yes, a thousand times, yes. But do not underestimate the damage. We will have to let go of our perfect expectations and be willing to give pieces of ourselves, in exchange for moments of this life—sometimes literally.
On Monday, millions of kids will be in the path of the eclipse—some will hide from it and the dangers, others will march into the darkness to learn all they can and capture a piece of it for themselves.
The same week, some of my friends are gathering for a rally in California. They are choosing to be the light in the midst of darkness and it might be risky. It will probably even be dangerous, standing in the light often is.
One of my favorite lines of all time is from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
“Aslan is a lion, the lion, the great lion.”
“Ohh” said Susan, “I’d rather thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous meeting a lion.”
“Safe?” said Mr Beaver, “Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good…”
My first instinct is to keep my daughter away from the windows, my son inside the house, and my friends away from the hate and protestors, but…
There is nothing safe about life, and especially nothing safe about a Christian life—not one well lived anyway. So, the greatest thing I can actually do for the ones I love is not try to scare them with statistics, fear mongering, doubts, or dangers. Not keep them safe. No, the greatest thing I can do for them is encourage them to go out into the sunlight and face the darkness as it comes. Sure, there may be damage, but I think the risk is worth it, and so did St Paul…
...I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself. If there was any way to get in on the resurrection from the dead, I wanted to do it.
I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.
So let’s keep focused on that goal, those of us who want everything God has for us. If any of you have something else in mind, something less than total commitment, God will clear your blurred vision—you’ll see it yet! Now that we’re on the right track, let’s stay on it.
Stick with me, friends. Keep track of those you see running this same course, headed for this same goal. There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I’ve warned you of them many times; sadly, I’m having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ’s Cross. But easy street is a dead-end street. Those who live there make their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites.
But there’s far more to life for us… (Philippian 3:10-20, MSG)
Risk management, it is what we do every single day. And our decisions are based on our definition of safe. Yet, nothing about living is safe. Nothing about God is “safe”, in the heathen definition of the word. But He is good and His light is spectacular.
Is it risky? You bet, but as for me and my house—We Will Serve The Lord!
Choose life, my friends
As always, I’m praying for you
--Sunie Dawn
Fast forward to the same small girl, now grown, staring once again at a piece of paper, this time outside her daughter’s classroom—but this paper was not blank, it had the risks involved in watching an eclipse and at the bottom--a place for her signature.
Do you understand the risks involved?
Will you allow your child to participate in learning activities involving the eclipse?
Will you allow her to even go outside that day?
Will you promise to never ever hold the school responsible for permanent eye damage that may occur?
Do you even love your child at all?
Don’t you care about her eyesight? Do you understand how risky this all is?
Perhaps the questions were not so dramatic, but as my hand hovered over the signature line, my mind thought of all the schools that were closing Monday because of the eclipse. I thought of the parents who were opting out of the school activities, and I thought of the small girl and her innocence so long ago. And as I signed the paper and listened to the other parents debate their own decision, I started to ponder why I was letting my child participate when so many were others were choosing caution and safety instead.
Is it worth the risk? I asked myself.
Could someone go blind from watching the eclipse? Maybe
Are the chances slim of it happening to a child I know? Yes
Am I willing to risk my own childs eyesight for it? Uh….
This is where I start doubting my decision, but not because I think eclipse watching through a paper tube or a cereal box is a bad idea. No, I start doubting my decision because I know others will think me reckless and even call me a bad parent. I doubt my decision only when others lament how horrible it is and when my voice becomes the minority.
But, reckless is the last thing I am these days. Trust me, I care much for the consequences of my actions—perhaps more than ever before in my life. It is not carelessness that presses the pen onto the paper and signs permission-- it is the willingness to allow a life to be lived. Yes, even at the risk of what some would consider damage.
It is not something I take lightly, and it is something I have thought much about lately— this damage.
SO fearful are we of anything less than perfection that we have created a place in our minds where everything less than this image is damage, and damage is bad.
Except when it isn’t.
One of my uncles traveled through life with a few fingers less than 10, an accident as a youngin’, a reckless adventure that resulted in damage. Yet, he would laugh when he told the story and I imagine he thought the fun was worth the price he paid.
My son is also an adventurer, God help me, and each time I gasp or try to limit his activites with the reminder of how reckless his fun is—he tells me he would rather die doing what he loves, even right in the middle of it. He doesn’t have a death wish and is actually more cautious than I give him credit for, He simply is willing to pay the price for his fun—if the damage ever occurs. To him, it is worth the risk.
And for me, it is too. Although, I have not always felt this way.
I have to seriously consider my daughter could have permanent damage to her eyesight, if she is not careful during the eclipse learning activities. I don’t want that. I don’t wish it for her or underestimate the problems it could cause her later in life.
What I do wish is that she would have a life that results in some “damage”. I don’t want her to die of old age with pristine eyesight, a body without scars, a heart that has never been broken, teeth without stains, or joints without burden. Why? Because those things means she has lived. She used her life and all God gave her.
Now, I am not advocating we should not be good stewards of what God has given us—including our bodies. I also am not belittling those who did not sign permission slips for their children, as we must all decide what is worth the risk for ourselves and our families. Some things are and some things are not, but can I suggest something radical?
Most things are
And the greatest things require the biggest risk.
Perhaps this is why so few choose to live a life completely devoted to Christ—signing that slip that says, Yes, I give permission for God to lead me, guide me, show me the way. Yes, I understand permanent damage could occur—even unto death. Yes, I think I understand the risk involved. Yes, I am going to follow you anyway.
For, nothing appears more reckless than following Jesus. And nothing places you more in the minority than actually living that life every day. And there is damage. Ask the disciples and followers. Ask the missionaries, the martyrs, the pastors, the teachers, the professors, the small girl standing on the sidewalk—trying to reflect His light, sometimes all alone, in the darkness.
Is it worth the risk, you ask?
Yes, a thousand times, yes. But do not underestimate the damage. We will have to let go of our perfect expectations and be willing to give pieces of ourselves, in exchange for moments of this life—sometimes literally.
On Monday, millions of kids will be in the path of the eclipse—some will hide from it and the dangers, others will march into the darkness to learn all they can and capture a piece of it for themselves.
The same week, some of my friends are gathering for a rally in California. They are choosing to be the light in the midst of darkness and it might be risky. It will probably even be dangerous, standing in the light often is.
One of my favorite lines of all time is from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
“Aslan is a lion, the lion, the great lion.”
“Ohh” said Susan, “I’d rather thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous meeting a lion.”
“Safe?” said Mr Beaver, “Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good…”
My first instinct is to keep my daughter away from the windows, my son inside the house, and my friends away from the hate and protestors, but…
There is nothing safe about life, and especially nothing safe about a Christian life—not one well lived anyway. So, the greatest thing I can actually do for the ones I love is not try to scare them with statistics, fear mongering, doubts, or dangers. Not keep them safe. No, the greatest thing I can do for them is encourage them to go out into the sunlight and face the darkness as it comes. Sure, there may be damage, but I think the risk is worth it, and so did St Paul…
...I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself. If there was any way to get in on the resurrection from the dead, I wanted to do it.
I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.
So let’s keep focused on that goal, those of us who want everything God has for us. If any of you have something else in mind, something less than total commitment, God will clear your blurred vision—you’ll see it yet! Now that we’re on the right track, let’s stay on it.
Stick with me, friends. Keep track of those you see running this same course, headed for this same goal. There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I’ve warned you of them many times; sadly, I’m having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ’s Cross. But easy street is a dead-end street. Those who live there make their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites.
But there’s far more to life for us… (Philippian 3:10-20, MSG)
Risk management, it is what we do every single day. And our decisions are based on our definition of safe. Yet, nothing about living is safe. Nothing about God is “safe”, in the heathen definition of the word. But He is good and His light is spectacular.
Is it risky? You bet, but as for me and my house—We Will Serve The Lord!
Choose life, my friends
As always, I’m praying for you
--Sunie Dawn
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