I have a daughter who is absolutely beautiful. She has red hair, denim blue eyes, fair skin, freckled nose, and purple glasses. Her hair is a strawberry blonde that sparkles in the sun. Not only is this child stunning, she has a magnetic personality, infectious smile, and contagious laughter that draws others’ attention like a moth to a flame. Even though she most generally has a smile on her face, she also has what seems to be an alter ego.
Like all of us, Ashley can, on occasion, become insolent and defiant; her moods can change as fast as the direction of the wind on a blustery day. That’s all right, because that’s what makes her human, or rather, Ashley. Another characteristic that makes her Ashley is her skill at sneaking around undetected. Actually, my husband calls her ‘stealthy.’ If you truly know Ashley, you might question the quiet part, but she can be very, very quiet.
Our most memorable event of her stealth-like ability occurred early one Saturday morning. My husband walked into the living room to discover Ashley was already out of bed. She was sitting on the sofa with a half eaten miniature candy bar in her hand and chocolate smeared over her lips. Sternly, he asked, "Are you eating candy?"
Quickly, this precocious three-year-old replied, "No, I eat carrots."
Ashley knew that eating the candy for breakfast was wrong, but she couldn’t resist the temptation. I can just imagine the adrenaline rush that little girl felt as she took the candy. If she had been caught with her hand in the candy dish, we would probably have to peel her off the ceiling. Also, if she didn’t realize what she was doing was wrong, she wouldn’t have lied about it. How often do we do that with God? We sneak around and do something we know we shouldn’t, and when confronted, we deny the act. The condemning evidence is covering us just as the chocolate covered Ashley, yet we have the audacity to lie to God. Once the act is over, we are left feeling empty, unfulfilled, and wanting more—just as I’m sure the candy left Ashley’s stomach. Instead of relishing in God’s abundance, we choose to chase something that is only momentarily satisfying and in the long run devastating to our relationship with God.
This thought brings to mind Adam and Eve. This couple lived a life of leisure—they wanted for nothing. If they were hungry, they ate; if they were thirsty, they drank; all they had to do was enjoy what God had given them. Was that enough? No. One day, Eve decided to carry on a conversation with a snake. I’m not sure if any other animals in the garden spoke (the bible doesn’t say), but I would like to think I would have better sense than to debate God’s direct orders with such a lowly creature. Unfortunately, Eve didn’t. Instead of walking away, she talked herself into something that forever changed history. Then, Adam and Eve frantically tried to hide their sin by covering themselves. As we all know, this didn’t work. The shame on their faces as well as the clothes on their bodies gave away their indiscretion—just like the chocolate on Ashley’s face. When God questioned them, what did they do? They blamed everyone but themselves. God knew what they had done—He had witnessed it. I think He just wanted to see what they would say. Boy, did they blow it.
Several years have passed since the candy bar incident, and Ashley has learned that chocolate bars aren’t for breakfast, but special treats given in moderation by her loving parents. The same way my husband and I ration candy bars, our loving Father in heaven measures out earthly treats for His children. These treats are not the ultimate reward—that comes when His children reach their final destination, but rather tidbits to make this mortal life a little more tolerable. Just like chocolate makes the day a little sweeter.
