"When are we going to read the Bible at night again?" asks Luke, freshly cleaned of the day's grime, a soft pleading in his big brown eyes. It's already way past bedtime, but this time, I pause to listen to his heart. I choose not to rush to the finish line of head on pillow...mine and theirs.
"Do you like when I read it to you?"
Brianna, standing at sink, finished with baptizing her face with water exclaims her approval.
And Luke says that when we don't read it, it kind of feels like we don't believe in God.
Oh how heaven has a way of bringing me to my knees. And the Living Word takes on flesh in our vintage pink- and blue-tiled bathroom. A little child leading the way to a Father's heart.
And who would inhibit a child from seeking God?
So we pause, deny the clock ticking further past head-to-pillow time and we read. Their requests. About some dry bones and our salvation.
And all this time I thought our habit of reading the Bible before bed didn't matter to them, that I was only doing this because it fit with my preconception of what Christ-following parent does. Wiggly bodies, constant interruptions and rabbit trail conversations have a way making one think they aren't paying attention and that this desire to sow the Word in their hearts doesn't matter. But they are and it does.
So I offer this encouragement to you as I remind myself. Keep pressing on in the ways of the Lord. You are making a difference even if you cannot see it.
sharing with: thought-provoking thursday @ intentional.me