One of the most difficult things to explain about the Christian faith has to do with Jesus being the Son of God, while at the same time God Himself. To be quite honest, I don’t get the whole mechanics of it. Had a small revelation tonight as I was washing poop out of Anne’s PJs.
Anne has had a problem with constipation, and it’s gotten worse since our return from New Zealand. The last time she pooped she cried, and we found a bit of blood. She had probably gone too long without pooping.
Tonight she kept telling us that she was scared. We initially thought it was the television show she was referring to, though both of us weren’t sure American Inventor fell under horror, unless Anne meant the terrible “suspense” music. We then realised she was terrified that she had to poop.
It totally wracks your heart to see the little two year old girl walk around listlessly, rubbing her tummy, constantly coming to you for a hug and telling you she’s scared. She didn’t want to sit on the potty, so we let her stay in our bedroom. She told us to wait outside. When we turned American Inventor down we could hear her whimpering in the bedroom, but everytime we popped our head in, she told us to wait a while more.
“I love you,” I told her.
She tilted her head to the side, holding back tears, and said “I love you” back.
My baby. My daughter. My love.
She’s now sleeping. The poop did eventually make it way out, down her left pant leg and unto the floor, but we’re thankful that there was no blood. She returned to her normal self soon after. Faith read her her bedtime story while I did the necessary laundry.
The revelation? I never understood why Jesus had to be “God’s Son”, but I’ve always known that Jesus came to earth to show us the extremes God would go to bring us back to Him. It would have been one thing for God to suffer on the cross; it would have been infinitely more painful for Him to helplessly watch His Son suffer and die.
Just so we’d know how much.