Archives For children

Comfort in Tragedy?

samuel kee —  December 15, 2012 — 6 Comments

heavenI am trying to imagine what it would be like to be one of those grieving parents from Newtown.  If I just lost my child in these horrific circumstances, how could I best be comforted?  I realize that nothing I say here, so detached from the events, holds any water.  I’m sure I might have a different answer if I were actually living through the hell that they are.  So I apologize in advance for anything that I say that might not be helpful.

However, as I place myself in their shoes, here’s what brings me the most comfort.  As the vivid scenes of my child’s last minutes race through my mind, I would want to know that they are comforted now.  The best thing that you could say to me would be to remind me that my child is experiencing more joy, peace, and comfort than they have ever known.  The best balm would be to tell me about Heaven.

I know that “telling me about Heaven” is not acknowledging my grief—and it could sound like you’re trivializing my pain.  But in the deepest sense of what it means to be a parent, you’re actually providing what I need the most.  The deepest desire of every parent is to care for and protect their children.  Way before I get counseling or understanding for my grief, I would want to make sure that my children are okay.  In fact, as all parents know, you regularly put your own needs aside in order to make sure that your kids are cared for.

That’s why I think I would just want to know about Heaven.  Tell me my kids are safe now.  Tell me that their heavenly Father is now embracing them, wiping away their tears, and healing their wounds.  Tell me that one day, we will be together again in Heaven, where we’ll always be together, where nothing will be able to tear us apart again.  In these moments, I don’t need cheap comfort; I need strong doctrine.

Don’t tell me that God needed another angel; don’t tell me that God will give me enough grace to get through this; don’t tell me that God had a reason.  Just tell me that my children are safe in Heaven, beyond the reaches of evil.  Then just be quiet.

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Daddy, Please Come Home

samuel kee —  December 6, 2011 — Leave a comment

We all long for our dads to come home to be with us.

When I was a kid, there was always a magical moment in my day.  It was the moment my dad came home from work.  Day after day, year after year, the effect was always the same: excitement.  It never wore off.  I can still hear the sound of his pick-up truck’s tires, grumbling up the limestone driveway, driving a rut in to the rock just as surely as that moment did into my heart.  I loved it when dad came home after work; and he always did.

Contrast my experience with a story I heard from a teenager recently.  This boy’s parents were separated when he was very young, and he would only be able to see his dad once per week, on Fridays.  He was like any boy and every boy, having a deep desire to be with his dad.  One week, just like all the other weeks, his dad was supposed to come home so that they could play board games.  The boy’s mom told her son all week long, “If you’re good this week, then you can play games with daddy when he comes home on Friday.”  Though it was difficult for this young boy to “be good” all week, he did his best.  Yet when Friday came, his dad did not come home.  In fact, he never came home; this boy never saw his dad again.

Yesterday I sat in a courthouse in Chicago, observing the criminal trials.  As case after case was heard, criminals in DOC jumpsuits were escorted before the judge by armed guards.  Most were men; many were fathers.  These were daddies who would not be coming home.

I’ve often wondered why God needed to rest on the seventh day of creation.  Genesis 1-2 describes how God worked for six days, but then rested on the seventh day.  It doesn’t make any sense to me, because God does not get tired.  There must be another way of understanding “rest.”  And there is.

In Psalm 132, God’s rest is tied to his dwelling, so that the place of his rest is linked with the place of his dwelling.

Let us go to his dwelling place; let us worship at his footstool!  Arise, O Lord, and go to your resting place, you and the ark of your might. (verses 7-8)

Quite literally, God’s resting place is his temple.  The temple is the place where God “goes home” to dwell.  Just as after “building” the world, God rested in the Garden of Eden, after building the temple, God rested in it.  The temple was the place of God’s dwelling, where he “rested” with his children.  A few verses later, Psalm 132 says:

For the Lord has chosen Zion; he has desired it for his dwelling place: “This is my resting place forever; here I will dwell, for I have desired it.” (13-14)

God dwells where he desires and he dwells with whom he desires.  God desires to dwell with his people after he comes home from work.  The temple was the place where God could rest with his people.

In other words, God rested on the seventh day of creation not because he needed a break, but because we needed a Daddy.  He rests in order to dwell with us forever, the desire of his heart.

The purpose of the temple, as Greg Beale observed, was to be a divine resting place.[1]  It’s the place where our heavenly Father comes home after work to be with his children and the place where his children get to be with their Father.  It’s a place of joy, anticipation, and love—a place that mends our broken relationships and heals our loneliness, by giving us a Father to be with forever.

As Hebrews 4:11 says, “Let us therefore strive to enter that rest.”

Today, we do not have a temple, but we still have a heavenly Father and he still offers rest.  He has created us (Genesis 1-2) and he desires to rest with us (Psalm 132).

© Samuel Kee, 2011

[1] G.K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission (Downers Grove,IL: IVP, 2004).

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Because He Loves You

samuel kee —  September 28, 2011 — Leave a comment

He will not relent until you are in His arms.

I have a policy with my kids that we will not play hide-and-go-seek in the public park.  The first and only time I’ve played this game in the park was when one of my sons was about two-years-old.  He hid so well, that I could not find him.  I remember going into a state of panic because I thought that someone must have kidnapped him.  After not being able to find him for some time, this was the terrifying conclusion that I came to.  (As it turns out, he was just a really good hider and I eventually found him.)

As I searched for him, I tried to remember what color of shirt he was wearing.  With that color fixed in my head, I darted all over the park, looking for that color.  My eyes were trained to look for a small boy with short hair who was wearing blue.  Having this information seemed to make my “search and rescue” most efficient.

In fact, if I were to ask others to help me find him, they would also want to know what he looked like, what he was wearing, how old, etc.  Though it is possible to find missing things/people when you don’t know what they look like, it helps a great deal when you know what you’re searching for, what it looks like, and so forth.

The first verse of Psalm 139 joins two strong Hebrew words together to capture this sense.  “O Lord, you have searched me and known me!”  “Searched” carries the idea of digging for precious jewels in the earth; the one who is searching is careful, thorough, and persevering.  The one who is searching is on a mission, trying to track down that which is lost, like a father searching for his son.  He won’t give up until his boy is back in his arms.

But the son has to be “known” by his father.  Dad has to know what he is looking for.  In the same way, to be known by God is to have your features at the forefront of His mind.  God knows what you’re wearing today.  God knows your height, your hair color, and your shoe size.  God knows if you’re smiling, crying, or in pain.  God knows your words, your prayers, and your problems.  He knows your thoughts, emotions, longings, and intentions.  He knows you inside and out, from soul to skin.

God knows what he is searching for; even more, that which he is digging after is at the forefront of his mind.

Let’s escape into the passionate moment of this verse, where the Psalmist wants us to enter into God’s world.  We’re to see our Maker searching after us, as if we were the only one in existence.  When I search for my child, I don’t think of every possible child; I only think of my child.  Only one child matters to me in that desperate moment.  When God searches after you, only you matter to Him in that moment.  He’s digging, groaning, and longing for you; you alone are on His mind.

He will not relent until you are in His arms.

“O Lord, you have searched me and known me!”  God’s journey to find you led him off His throne, away from His palace, and out of His Kingdom.  He tore off His royal robes and clothed Himself with the garments of mortality.  He searched and he searched, fighting our kidnappers along the way.  His journey led Him to the cross, where He saw our Notice of Charges in Roman writ.  Your name was on the top of this parchment and your sins flooded its content.  He knew that this is where you were headed, if He did not get there first.  Then He allowed Himself to be nailed to the cross, beneath your Notice, in order to pay the penalty for you.

Having died on the cross in your place, the saying came true for you, “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:24).

The cross will change your life if you let its implications into the moments of your day.  The cross is proof that Someone knows you and is searching for you.  Why?  Because He loves you.

© Samuel Kee, 2011

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Humiliation

samuel kee —  April 14, 2011 — Leave a comment

There’s someone else in her life that’s more important.

Imagine a mom who has to take care of her small children while her husband is away on a business trip.  As any mom knows, this is no small feat.  The children wake up, way too early, and the race begins.  The kids have to be changed, fed, dressed, and bathed, depending on how badly they needed changed.  The kids don’t want to eat, they want to watch TV.  One makes a mess of breakfast, and while mom is cleaning that up, the other kid makes another mess.  And while she is cleaning up the second mess, a third mess is made…Kids are fighting, things are breaking, it’s a wrestling match to get them changed, teeth brushed, hair combed…And before the mom knows it, it’s 11 o’clock and there’s a knock at the door.  Without thinking, she answers the door, only to greet the person with her bad breath and bed-head.  Mom hasn’t had time to brush her teeth, change out of her pajamas, comb her hair, take a shower, put on make up, and make herself presentable.  All because she was taking care of others.  She is completely embarrassed.  You might say, in this instance, she is humiliated.  And what does the person at the door think, “There’s someone else in her life that’s more important!” 

That’s what the humiliation of Jesus is all about.  In Mark 14-15, Jesus is completely humiliated.  This is especially true given the contrast with the rest of Mark’s book.  Before the scenes in 14-15, Jesus is magnified.  Right from the beginning, we’re told that Jesus is God’s Son.  Mark goes on to describe Jesus’ incredible power and authority.  Jesus has authority over every disease, as he heals the blind and deaf and makes the lame to walk.  Jesus has authority over Satan and demons, as he casts out demons from severely oppressed people.  Jesus even has all authority over nature, as he calms storms.  Jesus even has the power to walk on water.  He has complete authority and every right, as the Son of God.

So when the reader gets to 14-15, it’s a complete shock.  In these chapters, we see Jesus humiliated by Judas, by the high priest, by his best friend Peter, by Pilate, by a crowd of people, by soldiers, and by criminals on the cross.  Jesus doesn’t defend himself.  He doesn’t exert his own rights.  He is mocked, spit upon, falsely accused, beaten, maligned, and ultimately nailed to a cross.

In just one short day, his entire ministry comes crashing down.  All the glory and hype come to a screeching halt.  And the reader must wonder at such humiliation.  As the Jesus of Mark 14-15 greet the reader, we must think to ourselves, “There must be someone else in his life that’s more important!”

Unknowingly getting it right, the chief priests who put him on the cross mocked him by saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself” (15:32).  That’s exactly the point.  He cared for others, just like the mom, so he could not care for himself.

In this sense, humiliation is caring for others at the expense of yourself, in order to put them ahead.  You limit yourself.  You don’t lay hold of your own rights in order to help others succeed.  You become powerless that others might become powerful.

Maybe you need to hear that right now; maybe you’re not feeling too important.  You wish that someone cared for you.  You wish that someone might say, “He’s a very important person in my life” or “She is very important to me, so precious that I’ll sacrifice other things for her.”

“There’s someone else in Jesus’ life that’s more important than himself.”  It’s you.

If you doubt God’s love for you, consider the humiliation of his Son.

© Samuel Kee, 2011

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