You mom and I have begun calling you “The Monster.” You are everywhere, on everything, under everything, and you try to put everything in your mouth. We have an ankle weight on the trash can lid, that I’m sure you’ll be strong enough to lift in a week or two. We only use one outlet in the living room and we’ve had to build a fort of pillows, chairs and an ottoman to keep you from unplugging the computer.
Your mom worked so hard to make our living space feel like a comfortable home, taking great care in deciding where tea tins should go, where photos would look best, which counter space best facilitated the dish drainer. It was all in vain.
Now everything is stacked high, giving the illusion that people a foot taller than your mother and I live in the basement at grandma and grandpa’s. Whatever won’t go on a shelf we hide behind the couch, in cramped closets, under beds and in the dark corners of our home.
You find it all. Because you are a Monster.
Your favorite thing to play with right now is a blue shoelace that, of course, was supposed to be mine. I couldn’t find it this morning while you were eating, and quickly abandoned my search in order to do your dishes. You finished eating and played, or banged, rather, on your piano for a while.
Things got quiet for a minute so automatically I knew you were into something you shouldn’t have been. Sure enough, I turned around to find you had overturned the basket filled with stocking caps as well as the basket of your toys, diapers, clothes and other random objects. Your chubby feet disappeared behind the toy basket, which also used to block you from getting into the space between the couch and the desk that serves as an entry table.
I grabbed your foot with one hand and your waist with the other, pulled you from the clutches of disaster, and what did I find? You smiling with your blue shoelace clenched between your four teeth.
You are a Monster.
Monsters aren’t afraid of the dark, scary places unexplored by “more sensible” beings. Monsters know that’s where the treasures are. Monsters know the best stuff is usually buried deep beneath the surface.
Lewis, I want to plunge into the Bible like a Monster. The parts that are difficult, messy, abhorrent, appalling, scary, I want to face them head on, knowing there’s treasure in those tough passages. Hunters must go deep into the forest if they are to capture their prey, which they must do if they’re going to survive.
You had to struggle past barriers and into darkness to find your blue shoelace. I pray I would approach the Bible with such tenacity, resolve and desperation.
I love you, Lewis. No matter how scary it may be, don’t ever stop exploring what’s in the difficult places. That’s where you’ll find God, the ultimate treasure.
Do you shy away from the parts of the Bible you don’t understand?
When you encounter a part of the Bible that offends you do you ignore it or do you dig deep in search of understanding?
Do you need to be more of a Monster?
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