"I'm-not-with-that-kid." God doesn't pretend He's not with me.

Here's what I hate:  The “I'm-not-with-that-kid” moments that come with being a parent.  

Like when your kid asks the store clerk why they are so fat.  "I don't know who that kid is." We say rolling our eyes and ignoring our little urchin. 

Or when your kid throws sand in the face of the toddler in the pink bow—and you wish you could just slink away from the playground before anyone notices.

Or when your kid is throwing one of those seriously seizure-like tantrums in public that make everyone within a 2 mile radius look directly at you and your kid that you are pretending not to know.

There are even some subtler moments that make you want to pretend that you aren't with that kid...

Like the time when my mother was in town for a visit and my two angelic daughters were walking ahead of us inside the Gaylord Opryland Hotel (which is like another planet incidentally—you should go there.)  Anyway, we are walking along the path in the hotel and there are all these tropical plants lining the edges of said path.  (Yes, I said tropical plants--see, it's another planet.)  So, we are walking along and my youngest rips about 30 leaves off one branch as she passes by.  In horror, I speak her name.  Then, I lower my voice to the super-serious-mom-tone and say:

"Do not do that again,,,"

I continue my sentence with the oh-so-important reason behind my instructions: "...that hurts the plant and these are not our plants and if everyone who walked by picked a leaf, there wouldn't be any leaves left..."  

Riiiipppp.

Yep, that's right.

She went ahead and ripped off another 6 or 7 leaves as she walked slyly along.

I do a sideways look at my mother.

My mother purses her lips together and then widens her eyes in complete disbelief.  

I stammer some sort of lame distracting sentence to her like "Look, a parrot wearing cowboy boots!"

Then, I run up to my naughty daughter and reprimand her the best way I know how: by firmly holding her arm, giving her my super-mean looks with gritted teeth, and whispering threats in her ear.

We resume our walk.

I am embarrassed.

Alexis should have been embarrassed too.

But, she wasn't.

She didn't realize how much her behavior is a reflection of me as a mom.

This happened months ago.  But, it's stuck with me.  It's gnawed at me really.

You see, there's this really cool thing called adoption.  When I accepted Christ and believed that His death and resurrection paid for my sins, God the Father adopted me.  Pretty cool.--(Understatement of the century.)  

So, here I am: a daughter of God.

Problem is, my behavior is too often a poor reflection of His Fatherhood.

Obviously, He is a good Father—the best—the only perfect One.  But, my choices don’t always reflect His work in my life.  My actions often fail to reveal His Spirit, which is living inside of me. 

It’s called disobedience.  Alexis did it.  I do it.  We all do it.

We know what’s right.  God told us.  He reminds us.  He even gives us great, valid reasons why we should obey.  Do we listen?  Not usually.  We do what we want.  It’s fun to rip leaves off a plant as you walk by.  It’s fun to eat too much.  It’s fun to drink too much.  It’s fun to watch too much TV.  It’s fun to gossip.  It’s fun to judge others.  It’s fun to covet everything we see on Pinterest.  It’s fun to flirt.  It’s fun to complain.  It’s fun to worry (it takes work to trust).  It’s fun to make fun of people.  It’s fun to be lazy. 

The bottom line is that we want to do what we want to do.  Even though we say we love God and we definitely want to be His child, we still want to live our own lives.  It’s the classic flesh vs. spirit battle.  (Matthew 26:42 and 1 Peter 2:11)

Here’s what I love:  God doesn’t ever pretend He’s not with me.  Even when I hear Him cautioning me--“Elisabeth, don’t do that again,”--and I do it anyway, God doesn’t sigh, roll his eyes in complete exasperation and leave me. 

We desire the best for our children.  We want them to obey right away. But, we should also want them to grasp the reason behind the command.  Our desire should be for them to grow in maturity so that they can be more consistent in their behavior. I believe that’s what God wants for us too. 

So, instead of standing there mortified by our obviously rebellious choices, He disciplines us (effectively).  Then, He reminds us of an amazing truth: We can’t be good under our own strength.  Our selfish desires are unbelievably strong.  That’s why He offers to fight them for us. 

I can do all things…THROUGH CHRIST who strengthens me.  When we abide in Jesus—which basically means to stay connected to Him moment by moment—we can bear fruit.  Fruit, which includes obedience and living a life that glorifies the Lord.

We’ve all seen good kids—the kind that say “yes sir” and are sweet and helpful and polite and quiet and calm…we’ve seen them and we think: “Man, those parents are good!” 

Same kind of deal for us—As Christians, we are children of God. 

When we let Christ work in us—even in the day-to-day “small” stuff, we begin to live out a better reflection of who God is.   After all, it’s His Spirit that enables us to:

LOVE instead of make fun.

Have JOY instead of complain.

Be filled with PEACE instead of worry.

Have PATIENCE instead of lose it.

Be KIND instead of gossip.

Make GOOD choices (on food and entertainment for example).

Be FAITHFUL to our spouse.

Be GENTLE instead of judge.

Have SELF-CONTROL (when it comes to purchases).

The goal is for people to see these things in our lives and think:

“Man, God is good!”