Being Boxed In!
“I have other
sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They
too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one
shepherd.”*
After our
fifteen year old washer stopped working, there was about a one week
wait until a deluxe new one arrived. I was delighted when the
delivery truck pulled up to our house one morning, but was a little
anxious about the opening of the doorway leading down to the
basement. Its dimensions happened to be smaller than recommended.
However, the
delivery men got the machine through the door and successfully
maneuvered it down the basement stairs. It was still a tight fit,
even after taking it out of the box first. They installed the new
machine and then hauled the old one up the stairs, leaving behind as
an extra bonus the large cardboard box.
Since school
happened to be out that day, our two youngest grandsons were with us
when the delivery men arrived. While I was excited to try out the new
washer, Elliot, a second grader, was even more excited to try out the
box! Despite the fact that the box was bigger than he was, Elliot
managed to get inside by tipping it over. Once he had crawled inside,
he rocked back and forth until it stood on end. Now how to get out?
With a little more rocking, the box tipped back onto the floor and
Elliot slid out.
“Elliot, are you
alright?” I asked, concerned that he might have landed on his head.
But he assured me that he was fine.
Elliot’s “tipping
over” game lasted for several minutes until his older brother, Nate
went downstairs to investigate. When I checked on them a little while
later, the basement was empty with just the box sitting in the middle
of the floor. Silence! Hmmm, what were they up to this time?
I tiptoed to the
box and peeked over the edge, to see two faces grinning up at me.
“How did you both get in there?” It must have been quite a sight
watching them rock and tumble in the box. No damaged bodies or hurt
feelings though.
With a couple of
books, a pencil and paper for Nate to write on and a sleeping bag
draped over them to keep warm, they spent nearly an hour sitting in
those tight quarters, as happy as could be. “Make sure you can
breathe,” I requested before going back upstairs. When the call
came from Al that breakfast was ready, the game was abruptly
abandoned. Even boxes can’t compete with pancakes!
It was at least a
couple of weeks until the boys returned to their hideout in the
basement. This time, the big box was lying on the floor between the
two dog crates belonging to our pets. The crates were empty,
thankfully; however the box was occupied.
Nate informed me
that it was a jail, with different cells. Elliot, who had committed
some kind of ‘crime’ happened to be sitting in the box, peering
out a makeshift window. His crime wasn’t too serious and he was
going to get out soon, according to the jailer! But, Elliot didn’t
like this game as much as the previous one. After a few minutes, he
came upstairs and told me that he’d been in jail “five months”
and that was just too long!
When Elliot was
hiding in the box alone, he seemed to have a sense of security and
safety. Well, he isn’t the only one. Most of us seem to have an
innate fear of people who are different from ourselves, whether it is
a difference in appearance, race, religion or of values and beliefs.
Rather than reaching out to all people, thinking of them as God’s
children just like ourselves, we tend to withdraw into our own little
worlds, boxes, where we feel safe and secure. But are we really? Or,
with time do those boxes change into cells?
Father, forgive us
for being afraid of those who seem different. Please help me, help us
all to climb out of our boxes and reach out to others with the love
of Christ. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
*John 10:16 NIV
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