In our house we have a Magic Dresser. Yes, a magic dresser. It’s Andrew’s dresser, and it seems to have special powers. For years, whenever a broken toy causes tears, I say to my children, “Go put it on Dad’s dresser.” With sullen faces they lay their special plaything on the dresser and walk away. And then . . . the next morning, like in the story of the cobbler and his elves, they find their special toy on their own dresser – as good as new. It amazes them.
It amazes me too. My husband likes to fix things. He will tinker, pull-apart, and jerry-rig until whatever object is at least partially working again. Perhaps it’s because he hates waste. Perhaps it’s purely for the joy of being able to fix what is broken. Whatever the reason, it’s fun to watch him work. I don’t think I have the patience to focus on a project for that long – unless it’s something that is required for school, or will result in earning money.
Sometimes in life, I wish for a magic dresser. I want God to be a magic dresser for me. “Just fix it for me God.” I want him to just make me a better person, take away my bad habits, fight my battles. I don’t have the patience to do the hard and sometimes slow work myself. God is not a magic dresser; He is not my genie in a bottle. I was made for His pleasure, to serve in worship – not the other way around. He wants to travel with me on this road, and be my master, and yes even save me from ultimate suffering. Yet He loves me enough to let me experience life’s ups and downs, so that I can enjoy His fullness that much more. So I can learn to deny myself and follow Him with all my mind. Truth be told, if He did it all for me, I would be like a lazy kid, lying around expecting Dad to feed me, clothe me, do all my chores and homework . . . and that’s not the kind of relationship I want with Him.
God, thank You for asking more of me than is comfortable.