Late night stories

Dear Hildegaard

Photo by Angiola Harry on Unsplash

Dear Hildegaard,

Last night, you couldn’t sleep.

You crawled into bed with Dad and I, warm and wide awake, and you asked me to tell you a story. I decided to tell you the story of the world – how it all began – in darkness.

Then light.

I told you how God created day and night, the seas, rivers and creeks. And I told you how he made land, and living creatures to crawl on that land, fish to swim in the ocean, and birds to fly in the sky. Then I told you about Adam.

Adam was the first human (you know this word, and often refer to yourself as a “hoo-man.”) I told you how he got to name all the animals, and your eyes lit up. He was happy, I told you, but there was no one quite like him in the garden, so he was a little lonely in his happiness. So God made Eve. They became husband and wife, like me and Daddy. They walked with God in the garden and talked to him all the time.

God has a body? You asked.

Oh…well, yes. No, God is a spirit, but in Jesus, He has a body.

I looked at Evan for help, but his eyes were closed. It was 11 pm.

Jesus is God’s Daddy, right? You asked.

Close! I said. God is Jesus’ Dad. And Jesus is also God.

I felt confused just saying it out loud. How could anyone accept the complexity of the trinity right away?

So, God doesn’t have a body and Jesus DOES has a body. Right?

Right! I said, relieved at your trust in me. And also terrified by it.

That’s AMAZING, you said, loudly enough to get Daddy to open one eye.

Then I introduced you to the serpent. It strikes me that, in your three years of life, Dad and I have yet to broach the subject of Satan or Hell. It just hasn’t come up. We have been able to talk about the goodness of Jesus and the sinfulness of sin without those other two topics. But tonight was the night, I suppose, to introduce you to that damn snake.

I told you how he slithered around the forbidden tree and tried to convince Eve that God didn’t have her best interests at heart. You shook your head. You know God is good, so you automatically knew that the snake was lying. I told the story all the way until Adam and Eve got kicked out the garden. You were sad, and looked a little confused. So I quickly said:

But there’s good news! God was going to send Jesus.

Yay! You shouted, waking up Daddy again (but this, he doesn’t mind, because you are his treasure). We talked a little more and then I tucked you back into your own, cozy bed.

I guess I just want you to remember these moments. To know that, even at the young age of two and three, you were already asking these questions. You have cared for some time now who Jesus is, who you are to Him, and when you will get to meet him face-to-face. You already love him and want to be with him.

But these loves – the simple, pure loves of our youth – can get complicated as we grow older. Introduce religious hypocrisy, shame that doesn’t lead to repentance or restoration, confusion over God’s commands, and the problem of pain, and suddenly the song Jesus Loves Me doesn’t feel…enough.

But then, you grow even older than that. And you find yourself returning to the simple gospel. The steady, pure truth of God’s Word and Jesus, who dwelt among us. Jesus Loves Me becomes your anthem again; the song you sing to yourself when you can’t sleep. And the song you sing to your own children, and grandchildren.

If you just hang on. Hang on to Jesus all the way through. You will return to the joy of your salvation. You will remember, once again (and again), that he loves you. Trust me.