I was on my way to work this morning when I saw a mother walking with her two children. She was clearly escorting them to school. The youngest walked hand in hand with mom, while the older drug his feet a few paces behind. Mom got to the corner and was ready to cross. As she began to step into the intersection, she turned to see that her son was too many steps back for her to safely escort them into the street.

Watching the reaction on her face told the story. She began to speak from the same frustrated tone that had overtaken her body. It didn't help any that it had begun to rain and the son was the only one with rain gear. Mom and sister were getting wet, while the young man clearly had "better" things than school on his mind. He was in no hurry to arrive on this Friday morning.

That scene replays in many of my memories of life with BJ.

Since arriving in Tulsa, I am frequently reminded of how fast I eat. Nicknames are starting to be offered my direction. Questions are asked or inferred about the size of my family and whether or not I had to eat fast to be able to have seconds before they were gone.

I do not have a story like that. I cannot tell you why I eat so fast. It is not even a conscious thought as I "adios" the food from my plate. I just do it. I am usually done before others are half way through.

I have shared with you before that Beej ate slowly. I have also shared that it was not uncommon for the two of us to be sitting at the dinner table together while he chased his food around his plate with a fork, while the rest of the family had disappeared.

This morning as I reflected on the young man dragging his feet, my first thought was how often our children are a reaction to the negative parts of who we are as parents. My second thought was more along the line of, there were times that Beej lived his life slow and deliberate on purpose.

While both of these thoughts can be true, I am struck by the picture in my mind of my Savior dragging His feet and the cross down that painful uphill road. Was it that He was unwilling, or trying to think of ways to escape his plight? No. He had been beaten and weakened beyond the ability to hurry. As I picture this, it seems the more He stumbled and struggled the more He was beaten. There would be no hurrying the One who was weakened and worn. The additional blows were unnecessary and could not yield there intended purpose.

If we do not stop to ponder His slow, painful and purposeful suffering, we will not appreciate the magnitude of His sacrifice. He lived His life with intention so that we could know how to live ours. He suffered on purpose. From this we have a role model for the times when suffering comes our way.

How do we respond? Is our attitude "the same as that of Christ Jesus?"

Jesus, like the little boy, would like to have been elsewhere on that Friday. Jesus, like the little boy, was obedient to the authority in His life.

If you are trudging through this day, do it with purpose, do it intentionally, and do it obediently.


dad