This summer, all five of our grands and all four daughters were here for our 60th birthday party bash on July 13th, then, second, the first week of August, three of our grands, Antonia, Theo, and Gregory, were here for a week while their parents went backpacking. Both of these times were incredible. I just love these kids.
Theo and Josie, cousins, are close to the same age and are the daring duo for certain. During the visit in July, I overheard this conversation:
Theo: “You know what, Josie? When I grow up I will be a man and when you grow up you will be a,” and he paused trying to think of what exactly to say she would become. He’s a wordsmith but was stumped, momentarily, “you will be, ah, a mother. I will be king and you will be queen. Won’t that be fun?”
Josie was not paying attention too keenly but said, “Yah,” in response.
After Josie returned home, her other grandma was poking at her with words one day saying, “Josie, are you going to grow up to be accident-prone?” And perhaps tuning into this previous conversation with Theo and others, Josie instantly responded, “No. I’m going to be a princess and Spider-Man.” When Theo was told of this response, he responded by reminding her that she would be queen but affirmed she could be Spider-Man, as well.
Actually this is not bad theology.
In Christ we are all priests and kings — we are mighty with authority. And as to Spider-Man, well, we have been given great power and equally great responsibility.
However, we often live below God’s high calling and gifting of our lives. This is especially true when we are not connected to community. For it is in community that we get reminded and invited into this greater Story — just like Theo did with Josie.
On our own, it’s hard to even remember the Story we are a part of. We can spend too much time immersed in other less significant stories. From there, it is difficult to remember our regal status, our great power, our amazing giftings, especially when surrounded by other voices which downplay instead of emphasizing who we truly are.
I noticed this when the kids were playing at the park the first week of August. Karen and I had both been playing with them, and then the two older ones were off in a game of their own filled with a plotline, intrigue, and adventure. I was following 20-month-old Gregory around as he made the circuit from the ladder, down the slide, back under the play structure to the ladder again.
Suddenly, the two older kids were beside me: “Ok. You are the bad guy and we are going to tie you up and leave you in jail.”
“Hey! How did I even get into this game?” I jokingly complained. “I was minding my own business here!”
But they were insistent, not to be dissuaded, and Gregory was being tracked by Karen. So, I was dutifully tied up with invisible webs, which they quickly dispatched, and put into jail (the ground beneath the play structure onto the astroturf) and they ran off and left me there.
Alone — I would just have been standing there in my own thoughts but together, by their insistence, I got involved in a larger story.
Sunday a few weeks back, in first service, the scripture and the quote included in the bulletin hit a couple of people significantly.
One woman shed tears as she told of her own journey with fear. She shared how Esther’s story had spoken right into her own. In other words, her own story had been placed into the larger Story of Scripture and within that greater story she had found strength, sustenance, and hope for her own.
That’s the idea — we need to be “included in a larger Story” by walking this faith thing together with others.
Had this woman in first service not been at church, she would have missed two connections — one, that of being connected to the larger Story which answered questions she did not know she was asking. And two, she would have missed connecting with all of us there, who totally could relate to what she was sharing and got blessed in the overflow.
This faith thing is not meant to be alone, for when we try that, we miss out on finding how we are part of a larger Story which gives meaning to our own. And remember — you too are a king or queen, or, if you will, a superhero, you just may not have recognized your regal status when you saw yourself today in the mirror.
