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Don't Hurt The Kids
Little child
Photo: Anissa Thompson
When Lisa and I first got married, and her young daughter entered my life, my own mom essentially lost all interest in me. Kami was everything. Kami was the princess. Kami was the center of the universe. We would drive over to Grandma’s house and she would come rushing out into the driveway like a freight locomotive. “Kami! Kami!” Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss. She had a technique called “machine-gun kissing,” and she perfected it on Kami. After maybe five minutes of that, she would turn and say, “Oh, hi, David.”  “Hi.” “Thank you for chauffeuring Kami here to see me.  You may go now.”  “Yes, ma’am.”

But as I spent Thanksgiving machine-gun kissing my own baby granddaughter, I had a sober moment where I said to Lisa: “Honey, I just thank the Lord that in his grace and providence, I’ve never had to struggle with the fallen DNA that makes a man a child molester.” I’ve had two daughters; I’ve given them baths. I’ve held them in my lap. I give children at our church hugs of affection and praise the Lord that I can do that one thing with holy hands.

It’s a sober truth that there are men who would love to hurt our children. Tease them, touch, tickle, tell them tantalizing stories . . . and then use them. There are evil people who would love to see my precious Kira in a little white coffin. There are pedophiles whose battleground turf is the playground and the cemetery.

When good people meet up with that kind of sin, it is all right to be angry. I’m not saying it’s all right to form a posse, but it may be all right to pray for the posse and give them road maps and a Thermos of hot coffee.

Better Watch Out

In Matthew 18, Jesus takes a little child and essentially says: “If you mess with this treasure, if you hurt this kid – sexually, physically, or especially morally – you know what? Do yourself a favor and drown yourself. Get a big rock and drown yourself. Because that’ll be easier than what happens to you when me and my dad get a hold of you.”

In the magical world of Narnia, Lucy is getting acquainted with a Faun who suddenly bursts into tears of heartbreak. “Dear Mr. Tumnus, why are you crying? Whatever can be the matter?” And he gives this wrenching confession. “I’m crying because I’m such a bad Faun. I’m in the pay of the White Witch.”

We find out that this Lucifer enemy is out to destroy. Mr. Tumnus admits in his shame that it’s his job to lull little children to sleep and then turn them over to the wicked queen. “I had orders from the White Witch that if ever I saw a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve in the wood, I was to catch them and hand them over to her.”

You and I are surrounded by enemies in the woods whose craving is to take our kids captive and cause their destruction. And Mr. Tumnus lowers his voice as he says to Lucy: “Even some of the trees are on her side.”I can tell you that Pastor Dave – and the children in our kingdom – are going to keep our eyes wide open. And stay very close to Aslan the Lion.

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By David Smith. Copyright © 2006 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines.

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