Posts in the Sermon Prep: Our Father series
I heard someone once describe having your first child in this way: you feel like you’ve given fate a hostage, and you will never be safe again.
It’s an apt description. One of the mysteries of love is that it connects you to the well-being of the person you love. With Gretchen, my wife, her joy and pain affect me, not in the same way that they affect her, but in some degree they have an impact on my own joy or pain. In the same way, my love for Sophia, our daughter, connects me to her joy and her pain. I am personally invested in her well-being, because of my love for her.
That makes me vulnerable to things that I wouldn’t otherwise be vulnerable to. Up at the cabin in Santa Cruz, there is an old library-style ladder from the living room up to the loft. Sophia learned to climb it over the past few weeks, and now she scampers up and down at will.
I get nervous, every time. I’m not likely to fall and hurt myself if my foot slips on the ladder, but for her it would be a disastrous fall. What’s not danger for me, is danger for her, and so I become vulnerable to it. Even though she herself is unaware of the danger that she’s in, I am vulnerable to it.
On his own, apart from us, God is invulnerable. Because he connected himself to us by way of love, he has made himself vulnerable to pain, sorrow, suffering, hunger, grief, and the myriad of broken tragedies that inflict our lives. God made himself weak with love for us.
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