I must admit I have a sweet tooth. The development of my affinity for sweets didn’t happen overnight, it grew over a long period of time. When I was little, I can remember my mom making chocolate cake or brownies and I would patiently wait to scrape every drop of the mix off the bowl. As I got older, I began preparing cake mix just to eat the raw batter. It was wonderful.
One afternoon in college, I was making myself a bowl of cake mix and I became mesmerized by the way the mixers stirred the mix. It reminded me of two ceiling fans working in unison to combine all the delicious ingredients into the tastiest treat. I then began to wonder if I could touch my finger to the mixer, like a fan, without suffering any harm.
My father walked by me and he knew exactly what I was thinking. He said, “Son, don’t do it.” I thought to myself that I was a grown man and he couldn’t tell me what to do. When he had made his way into the living room, I decided I would try it. I slowly moved my hand forward and then smack! My pinky finger was twisted into the mixer with all the force of a typhon. The gears were grinding, but the mixer had not stopped. I didn’t dare yell, out of fear that my father might hear me. I reached over with my good hand and pulled the plug.
After I regained my composure, I attempted to removed my mangled pinky from the mixer. I couldn’t budge it. I decided I would go outside and continue to work on my pinky problem before my father heard the ruckus. I spent several minutes in pain outdoors, but still had not succeeded to free myself. My younger sister walked outside, saw the mixer dangling from my hand, and immediately ran inside to get Dad.
I was preparing myself for a well-deserved tongue lashing when I saw him open the door, but he didn’t say a word. He just looked at me with these sad eyes, almost like he felt my pain. He walked over and instantly freed me from the mixer. He said, “I’m so sorry son, that looks like it hurt. Let’s get you some ice” I stood there confused. I couldn’t even muster a word, before he helped me and then went the extra mile to make it all better.
Over the years, I have had the opportunity to talk to hundreds of people about God. Often the biggest obstacle I face is changing people’s perception of what God is like. I always share that story of my father along with Luke 15:11-32 to help them understand deeper that God is the perfect father. God is not some far-off, terrifying, mean, grumpy old-man in the sky waiting for you to mess up and smoke you with a lightning bolt. He loves you. Deeply. Always. Go share that good news with someone this week.
-Brandon Thompson