BY KENT HANSEN
E GAVE OUR SON, ANDREW, A bicycle for his sixth Christmas. He went with me to pick it out. It was orange and green, and perhaps a little too big for him.
I put training wheels on it, and throughout the winter and spring he practiced. With summer the training wheels came off, and Andrew began to fall.
The bike brought out Andrew's perfectionism. He's always wanted to do things right the first time or not at all. After a couple of spills he didn't want to ride his bike
anymore.
Patty and I made Andrew ride. We went to the alley behind our house. She pushed him to start. I stood 50 yards away to catch him. He almost never made it. He panicked and looked at everything but the road in front of him. When the bike wobbled, he'd stop pedaling and tumble into the neighbor's rosebushes, fences, garbage cans, power poles, and whatever else lined the alley. We dried his tears and made him get back on the bike and try again.
"Everybody learns to ride a bike," I told him. "Once you learn, you'll never forget."
"I don't want to learn," he snapped.
"Yes, you do. It's fun." "No, it's not!"
So it went week after week. One Sunday afternoon the crashes were so hard and the arguments so intense that I started to put the training wheels back on.
"Don't," Patty said. "He needs to ride by himself, and once he starts we don't go back."
It's in the Book
The next week at church Andrew went to his Sabbath school class. When we picked him up afterward, Patty asked him, "What did you learn today?"
"The teacher talked about David and Goliath."
"What did she say?"
"Goliath was a giant. He teased the Israelites and made them feel bad, but God helped David kill him with his slingshot."
Andrew held out a piece of paper. "Teacher gave us this picture of Goliath. She asked us to draw the 'giant' in our life that scares us most, so we can ask God to help us."
Patty and I stopped and looked at his picture. There on Goliath's breastplate was a crude but clearly drawn bike; and beside it was a little boy in a bike helmet, wide-eyed, with teeth clenched in terror.
We hugged Andrew and went home. The bike-riding giant was the subject of many parent-child prayers and was eventually slain. The picture was placed in a desk drawer as a memento of a true battle of faith.
Keep It Simple
Two years later I sat in a restaurant for lunch one Friday. Joining me was Richard, a fellow attorney, who regularly eats lunch with me so we can discuss spiritual things. On this day he brought along Bill, another attorney acquaintance.
As we began our conversation Bill announced, "I think all of the Old Testament is prophecy."
"Really," I said. "I suppose I agree in the sense that the Old Testament points to Jesus Christ. On what specific evidence do you base this belief?"
"Well, take the story of David and Goliath; I believe that it's a prophecy of how the apostate church will be overcome by the faithful remnant in the last days."
"Where do you find that interpretation in the Bible?"
Bill's reply was sharp: "Well, there's nothing that says it isn't true."
"Think about it," I said. "You're a lawyer. Your training tells you that you can't prove a negative proposition. You can't show what is by what is not."
Bill shifted ground. "These things are open to interpretation. The teacher of the Bible class my wife and I attend says that David's rock symbolizes the gospel and Goliath's forehead represents human reason, which will be struck by the gospel just before sinners die in the judgment."
This time my friend Richard asked Bill, "Where does your teacher get that idea?"
There was an edge to Bill's voice. "It kind of makes sense, doesn't it!"
I was distressed. These lunches were usually blessed times of insight and encouragement. I wasn't enjoying this discussion.
"Don't you think the story of David and Goliath stands for the basic truth that in God's power we can overcome the enemies that oppress us?" I asked quietly.
"Well, yeah, I guess so," Bill said.
I knew it was so, because in my desk drawer was a picture of a terrified little boy beside a bike-a picture drawn in vulnerable hope and simple faith that God would help him overcome the giant he faced.
It made a believer out of me.
Jesus said: "I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure" (Matt. 11:25, 26, NIV).
Lord, thank you for the unadorned truth of your good news.
_________________________
Kent Hansen is an attorney who lives in Corona, California.
BY C. ROGER SCHOENHALS
Y 16-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER GAVE IT to me for Christmas. "Here's a challenge for ya, Dad," she said.
Over Thanksgiving I had complained that the 1,000-piece puzzle we had put together was child's play. I needed something more equal to my skill. Sara apparently recorded the comment for future reference.
Picture Perfect
I liked the picture of the new 2,500-piece puzzle: snow-clad mountains against a deep-blue sky, a broken-down barn and shed with varied shades of brown, lots of grayish fencing, strands of barbed wire, many shadowy areas, and varied grasses.
The pieces were small and amazingly similar in shape. For example, I found it easy to line up 20 or more pieces of solid blue sky with no apparent differences Only when I hooked two of them together and turned them over could I tell for sure whether they were a perfect fit. Yes, this puzzle presented a challenge.
All during Christmas vacation I worked on the puzzle. At times my wife joined me, and we'd sit there for hours without talking, just staring at the little fragments. Occasionally one of us would pick up a piece and consult the cover of the box for clues. It was gruesome.
I found several shoe box lids and began to sort similar colors into each box. "All it takes is a little organization," I told my wife. "I'll just go about this methodically."
Sandy's time at the table began to dwindle. The kids were out of it altogether. I was on my own; just me and the puzzle.
This Means War
By January 2, after multiplied hours of intense concentration, only a third of the picture was in place. Still I dogged on. Evenings and weekends were devoted to the "war."
At times my entire family would be sound asleep and there I'd be, hovering over the table trying to find a connection. I arranged the lighting to enhance the colors and to remove the glare. I moved around the table to change my perspective. Did I tell you I'm slightly color-blind?
Sandy began to complain about the unusable table. "Don't even think about it," I warned her.
"Maybe we can find a large board to slide it onto, so you could work elsewhere," she suggested.
"No!"
The fun of putting together a puzzle collapsed. The possibility of failure haunted me. Episodes of frustration became commonplace. Often I left the table muttering unhappy syllables. My children stayed clear.
One night in late February I sat down to attack the puzzle. More than 1,500 disconnected pieces sneered at me. This is it, I told myself. I will finish this miserable thing if it kills me!
Thirty minutes later I stood up. Whimpering like a whipped dog, I wiped the table clean. Then I went to my wife and sought comfort. Defeated by a puzzle. Conquered by little pieces of cardboard. I'm surprised I'm even writing about it.
What I Learned
Through it all I learned a thing or two. First, I learned that life is sometimes like me and that puzzle. At times I try so hard to fit the pieces of my life together, to work things out on my own. But I only wind up frustrated and defeated.
God's Word tells us to place our trust in Him and let Him construct the picture of our lives: "In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths," said the wise man (Prov. 3:6, NKJV). The Puzzlemaker knows how things should go.
Second, some things aren't as important as they seem. For several weeks I allowed a puzzle to possess me. A mere game took charge of my life. Family and other important duties suffered. My selfish passion to succeed consumed me. In retrospect it seems ridiculous. But it happened. And, I'm ashamed to say, it sometimes happens in other areas of my life as well.
The Scriptures teach us to "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness" (Matt. 6:33, NIV) and to devote ourselves to doing good for others. It all seems so obvious now that the table is clear.
My greatest challenge is far more profound than putting together a 2,500-piece puzzle. My calling is daily to allow the Holy Spirit to spread His table before me, and then give myself to find and to fit into His purposes for my life.
Now, that's a puzzle worth doing.
_________________________
C. Roger Schoenhals of Edmonds, Washington, is the publisher and editor of Planned Giving Today, a subscription-based, monthly newsletter for gift-planning professionals.
