As the singing subsided and the band played a few final chords, I heard a little voice behind me, still raised in joyful exuberance. At least that was what I thought. I turned to her mum and said, "She's got a better handle on worship than most of us!".
But mum's smile was rueful. "You can't hear the words, right?" she asked. I listened, but no, I couldn't make them out. "She's singing, 'I want a chocolate coin, I want a chocolate coin...'" her mum explained.
A little background. Three-year-old Lottie had just watched her big brother go up to the front, help act out a Bible story, and come back with the biggest grin and a bright, shiny chocolate coin in his hand. As Ollie tucked in, Lottie watched. Her big eyes grew bigger. Her little mouth opened. And she poured forth what was in her heart: "I want a chocolate coin."
At first it was a quiet refrain, chanted away to herself as we sang the next song. But it didn't stay quiet. As the service continued, it turned into a demand. And then a wail. And then a full blown, body shaking scream. As mum - and then dad - tried with increasing desperation to explain, to comfort, to offer alternatives, to restore acceptable behaviour, there was nothing in Lottie's whole world except a gaping hole where her chocolate coin should have been.
Does that sound familiar?
I don't just mean the 0-90 escalation, or the sense of despair as your three year old turns into a furious monster you're somehow meant to be able to find the 'off' switch for. Of course I felt for her parents. But as I thought about the interaction I realised I identify with Lottie too. I am also, far too often, entirely taken over by the current chocolate coin of my dreams.
It can be something big - a long held dream, an ache that goes deep, a wound I'm carrying that re-emerges in the most unexpected moments, foil wrapper sparkling, promising to put my world right through mouth-melting creamy sweetness (can't you just taste how good it is?!). Or it can be embarrassingly small - something that's just caught my attention, temporarily magnified to epic proportions even though tomorrow I won't think about it twice. Either way. Once I realise how much I want it, there it is. It's enormous. It needs capital letters. The Chocolate Coin That I Don't Have.
I find myself thinking about it when I'm meant to be singing. Or doing the washing up, drying my hair, praying, or pretty much anything else. It becomes my mind's refrain, turned over and over.
I can't feel the arms holding me safe any more. They're not giving me the chocolate coin - so they're no good.
Someone else has got it. And I haven't. And. That's. Not. Fair. None of the other good gifts in my life are chocolate coins, so they don't count.
As time goes on, my unmet demands grow louder, more strident. The passing of another ten minutes without an answer is intolerable. I want it now, what do you not understand?
All that could calm me is tuned out. I can't hear or see or feel anything good. The hole where my chocolate coin should be is my whole universe.
I know my behaviour is ugly, that I'm being ridiculous. I'm deeply ashamed. But I can't stop. I need that coin.
I even know that this isn't the only chocolate in the world; that apples are nice too and they're better for me; that we're having dessert later. None of it makes any difference. I still just want it, OK? I want a chocolate coin!
And my insecure attachment to my heavenly father makes it even worse.
If I really knew that my Daddy was good, I'd know I can trust him to give me what's best for me. Not just in a 'healthy eating' way, but also in a 'treats to make my eyes light up' way. Because that's what a good Daddy does.
But I'm not sure if mine is really good. So I act like I'm not his kid - like I'm not a kid at all - as if I were qualified to judge what was best, and to judge him for not giving it to me.
If I really knew that my Daddy was wise, I'd know that his wisdom goes way beyond my understanding. That the God who created quantum physics and consciousness, and who knows me to the depths of my heart can be trusted to make decisions that I can't possibly understand. Because that's what a wise Daddy does.
But I'm not sure mine is really wise. So I act like I'm not his kid - like I'm not a kid at all - as if all plans need to be countersigned by me before they can be enacted, and my rights are being violated by anything not explained to me.
If I really knew that my Daddy was God, I'd know that he sees all of history from outside time. That nothing ever takes him by surprise and that his plans will always come through at the best possible moment. Because that's what a divine Daddy does.
But I'm not sure mine is really God. So I act like I'm not his kid - like I'm not a kid at all - as if my impatience should be the driver of all things and he has somehow lost the plot.
If I really knew that my Daddy was sovereign, I'd know that he is able to bring good out of all things for all those who trust him. That the complexity of his thinking is beyond any human mind but that it always has me at the centre of it. Because that's what a sovereign Daddy does.
But I'm not sure mine is really sovereign. So I act like I'm not his kid - like I'm not a kid at all - as if it's about time that someone with some sense took charge of this show, and I guess that it had better be me.
If I really knew that my Daddy was compassionate, I'd be confident to bring him the myriad feelings that churn around my mind and to express all that is in my heart. I'd know that he loves to hear me ask, and that the best place for my anger and confusion are laid bare in his hands. Because that's what a compassionate Daddy does.
But I'm not sure mine is really compassionate. So I act like I'm not his kid - like I'm not a kid at all - as if my gritted teeth and fake smile will fool him along with the rest of the world and get me what I want.
If I really knew that my Daddy was love, I'd delight in the gifts he surrounds me with, recognising them as signs of his unfailing love for me. And above all I would snuggle in to his arms, to his heart, to the place where I am safe, fully known and fully loved, for ever. Because that's what a loving Daddy does.
But I'm not sure mine is really love. So I act like I'm not his kid - like I'm not a kid at all - as if I need to twist his arm, to manipulate, cajole or trick him into giving me any of the gifts he keeps locked away or bestows only on other people.
How desperately sad. How sad for me, and how sad for my Daddy.
All this over a chocolate coin?! Just like Lottie, my world so easily gets twisted out of all proportion. No wonder the first two commandments warn so strongly against idolatry. Daddy, I am sorry.
So this is what I'm learning to do, at least sometimes, at least some of it, when a chocolate coin flashes its tinfoil shine at me.
Remind myself he's good - and I'm only a child, so I don't always know what's best for me
Remind myself he's wise - and I'm only a child, so I can't understand all that he's doing
Remind myself he's God - and I'm only a child, the timings are better left in his hand
Remind myself he's sovereign - and I'm only a child, I'm not meant to be in charge
Remind myself he's compassionate - and I'm his child, I'm meant to pour out to him all that I feel
Remind myself he's love - and I'm his beloved child, so I snuggle into his lap and quiet
my breathing and feel his strong arms around me and say thank you for a few of the highlights of this moment, right here, right now.
Sometimes I even manage to say thank you that I don't have the chocolate coin. Because if it was best for me, my Daddy would have given it to me.
O blessed life! The heart at rest
When all about tempestuous seems
That trusts a higher will, and deems
That higher will, not mine, the best
O blessed life! The mind that sees
Whatever change the years may bring
A mercy still in everything
And shining through all mysteries
O blessed life! The soul that soars
When sense of mortal sight is dim
Beyond the sense - beyond to him
Whose love unlocks the heavenly doors
O blessed life! Heart, mind and soul
From chocolate coin obsession free
In all at one with Deity
And resting in the Lord's control
Adapted from William Tidd Matson
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