In child psychology, there’s a term called object permanence – it’s the understanding that an object or person is still there even when they’re seemingly hidden. When I first heard about this concept, I realized that I struggle with it in the context of my faith.
I have tasted and seen his living grace and the love of God in my life in countless ways. I’ve witnessed miracles before my eyes and experienced the peace that surpasses all understanding. Yet, I still question God’s presence and work in my life. I ask him the same questions: God, are you really there? Or, do you even care?
I imagine myself as a toddler in the eyes of God – a child who tends to grudgingly walk to his throne more often when I have complaints, pleading requests, and never-ending questions. But my Father is not one who turns away from me when I come to him in this manner. He patiently answers the same questions I have already asked him countless times before. When I question his presence, he shows me the fingerprints he left in my life and gently asks me to remember. When I ask him if he cares, he points at his pierced hands.
In all honesty, walking with the Lord as a child doesn’t feel like I’m continuously walking. Sometimes I’m crawling or running, and other times I’m lying on the floor of his throne room, refusing to get up and look into my Father’s eyes. At one moment I’m singing praises to him, and at the next, I’m bringing up every grievance my heart has ever carried. I can only imagine that in the times I lie and refuse to get up, I have a Father who sits next to me patiently, waiting for me to turn my face to him.
At times, I become distracted by his creation. I wander off to mold created things to become idols in my life. And as all idols do, they break, and oftentimes I break with them. In these moments, I am reminded once again that the one who conquers the world is truly better than it in every regard. He’s a God who is seemingly hidden in this world, but in all trueness, he is present. It’s as if the world willingly decides to wear a blindfold over its eyes.
I see a reflection of myself in the Israelites – the people who witnessed God send plagues to set them free, part the Red Sea to protect them, feed them with manna from the sky, and quench their thirst with water from a rock. Through miracle after miracle, the Lord showed his faithfulness to his people. The Israelites, however, were quick to forget, and so for forty years, they wandered in the wilderness because of their unbelief.
The type of Father we have desires for us to come to him with our unbelief, rather than to submit to it. The examples in the Bible are numerous – Jonah told God that he was so angry that he could die, and God sent a plant to be a shade over his head to save him from discomfort (Jonah 4:3-6). Elijah prayed that he may die, and God sent an angel to give him a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water (1 Kings 19:4-9). He’s a God who would send all the plants, cakes, and jars of water in the world for us if it meant that we would know his love. He never needed to bring the sinful Israelites to the Promised Land, but he faithfully fulfilled his promise to them.
As my Father’s child, I lean on his goodness and continuously relearn his character. He doesn’t condemn me for my forgetfulness or unbelief, but he walks, runs, and sits with me through it. When I wander and break, he brings me back into his loving arms. He gives me cakes when I’m hungry and jars of water when I’m thirsty. Although I still sometimes struggle with the concept of object permanence in my faith, I pray that I would remember the deeds of the Lord, ponder all his work, and meditate on his mighty deeds (Psalm 77:11-12). I ask to remember his pierced hands and live a life in remembrance of him.
Photo Credit: Paige Cody