A few days ago, my husband and I took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner. We had some coupons and some free time, and we figured, Why not? Of course, when we told the kids, all four mouths dropped open, and for a moment, there was no sound, as if the air had been sucked from the room. Then…”Yay!” they screeched repeatedly, dancing around in joy.
We got there, staked out a table, and waited for out pizza to arrive. That is, I waited. The kids went off to play games, with Phil helping Jessica. I reminded Kenny to keep close track of his cup of game tokens, since the last time we were there, he had set his down and forgotten where he put it. And then, of course, it got stolen.
After supper, we all went back to playing games. Phil and I circulated among the kids, making sure everyone was having a good time and finding games at his or her level. Then I heard it. Kenny was crying.
I turned and saw Phil and Kenny walking towards me. Kenny’s eyes were red, and tears streamed from them and wet his cheeks. He tried to explain to me what happened, but I couldn’t understand him. Phil told me that Kenny had been playing Skeeball and set his cup down by his feet while he played. When he finished his game and tried to pick up his cup…it was gone, along with the couple remaining tokens and all his tickets. “Some kid stole it,” Phil said.
“Mommy, I’m sorry,” Kenny cried, grief flowing from his eyes.
“Oh, son,” I said, stooping down beside him. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. How many tickets did you have?”
“Forty-nine,” he said. His little shoulders shook as he tried to gain control of his tears.
“Then here’s what we’ll do,” I said. “I’ll give you two quarters. That will be good for fifty tickets. That will make up for what you lost. I’m so sorry.”
Ultimately, Kenny was able to choose some prizes he really wanted, and he was happy. But my heart still hurts for him. He was doing the best he could to take care of his tickets, and they got stolen from him. Some other greedy kid, who didn’t care at all about my son, his feelings, or doing the right thing, stole my son’s tickets and wounded his heart.
What hurts me the most in remembering this incident are two things. First, remembering Kenny’s big, brown eyes filled with tears, and seeing his precious face so sad. Somebody hurt my beloved son, and in that moment, I was ready to track that child down and take care of business. If I had known what the child looked like, I surely would have done so.
I wonder how it feels for God, who has the power to avenge any offenses against me, to have to hold back His hand sometimes. If I had been able to, I would have done something about the offense committed against my son. There’s no way in the world I would have let it go. Standing by and allowing my son to suffer when it was in my power to do something about it would have just about killed me. I wonder, then, how God feels when it is in His power to do something, and He has to restrain Himself in accordance with His greater purposes? I wonder how He feels when His greater purposes call for allowing us to suffer rather than making everything right right now.
The second thing that hurts my heart is the fact that Kenny apologized to me. He was afraid he might have done something wrong in “allowing” his tokens and tickets to be stolen. He had been as careful as he could be. His actions were reasonable. Yet he was afraid that somehow, it was his fault, and he thought he better apologize in case I thought he had done something wrong.
Likewise, we are often afraid that somehow what happened to us is our fault. Even when it doesn’t involve any sin on our part, and even when we were being careful, we’re afraid that we did something wrong in failing to prevent it from happening.
Precious mom, there are some things that simply cannot be prevented. Just because something happens to us doesn’t necessarily mean it was our fault somehow. And it sure doesn’t mean God is going to be mad at us for not preventing it. Sometimes, tragedy happens. Sometimes, we’re victims. Sometimes, there was no way to foresee or prevent what happened—at least not by employing ordinary standards of care. There was no good reason for Kenny to feel that he should have prevented what happened, and I told him so. “It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “You were being careful, just like I told you. It wasn’t your fault someone decided to sin and take your cup. And you can be sure that God sees what happened. He knows it wasn’t your fault, and He knows whose fault it was. And He’s not happy this happened to you, either.”
My words seemed to help Kenny somewhat. Gradually, the tears went away, and a smile returned to his face. By the time we got into the van to go home, he was happily playing with his new toys and candy.
But the lessons remain with me: that sometimes, what happens to me is not my fault. And that when someone sins against me, God is not pleased. He’s not going to blame me for someone else’s sin; that person will indeed answer for it one day. Instead, He’ll hug me and tell me He’s sad with me about what happened. And in the moment of my grief, that’s what I want to here: that He’s there, and He cares.
There’s one more lesson I learned from this incident, however, and it, too, is important. This week was about God’s response when tragedy strikes; next week will be about the response we should show others when they’re hurt. I’ll see you next week for a precious lesson in coming alongside others when they’re in pain.
Matthew 25:40—”The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”