Ancient of Days

We have been working on knowing the attributes of God and the names of God for a while now. Little by little, day by day, He is becoming an inextricable part of my sons' lives. Little men of God and His word. Thats what I am reaching for. And yet as summer drew to a close, I found myself missing days of lessons. Adding brick by brick, a wall of self doubt in my abilities as a mother and teacher. I do that to myself. Right on schedule, every couple of months, enough life issues happen and I begin preparing the bricks. I start organizing them and placing them one by one. A brick for the guilt of a temper lost. Another for the grief over the missed opportunity of a teaching moment that passed me by. Another brick for the ways I let people down, the things I leave unfinished, the words I have left unsaid. The wall takes shape and the self-doubt now has a new corner of my heart to grow in.

The boys and I walked through the zoo last week. The heat beating down on us, draining us and slowing our steps. Everything felt sluggish. Despite the fire in their cheeks and the weight of heavy feet on a humid summer day, their curiosity stayed lit, teeming with the need to be kindled.

Dripping sweat and joy, naming and guessing, exploring what God made. We paused by the large enclosure of giant tortoises and we marveled at them. Their homes upon their backs, the slow, deliberate moves. Not an ounce of energy wasted, purposeful creatures I find myself envying a bit. What does living at a slow pace feel like? I can hardly remember. Three boys seem to accelerate my life to a dizzying pace with each passing week. The tortoises continue their rusty march towards the fence line. Their large eyes watching the small boys at my side.

The Bear leans down and whispers, "He looks so old."

"He is ancient," I agree.

Ancient.

A word he has been hearing with frequency. It clicks in his mind. An audible revelation of history and love and familiarity and bone deep knowledge.

"He is ancient because the Ancient of Days made him!" he shouts.

And in that moment I am undone.

As if the miserable sun suddenly ceased beating my back and a rain cloud of grace had burst open over my heads and spent its rivulets of grace upon my heart.

Though I fail to teach well each and every day, the Holy Spirit never ceases to step in and intercede for me. Because despite the enormity of teaching a child about God and his universe, we are not defeated by our own sinful shortcomings, for He dwells over our children and enables them to grasp Him with their small hands. And then when we least expect it, He uses them to teach us.

He shouted, "Ancient of Days!"

Just as he has shouted, "Adonai, Yaweh, Shaddai," and "Messiah Jesus," a few days later.

This one God of endless names is oh so very faithful to his promises. There is not one out of his reach. Not one person too old or too young to be used for His work.

He always knows just when to encourage me. Right when the cup has nearly emptied. When the crevices begin to reopen and the parched desperation of a life too full of earthly sorrows begins to choke and mire the view...

He sends the rain.

He calls my son by name and leads that very son to call him by His name.

Oh, Ancient of Days.

It was spoken with a shout of joy. And the wall of self doubt my life was in the process of building came crumbling down, a defeated Jericho. Felled by a 3 year old in the grip of the Spirit.