A Moment with Max

I had a beautiful moment with Max a few nights ago. He asked me how I could know that our God is the right one. He’s 8. He wondered with great angst how we could tell others of differing faiths that they are wrong and we are right. Seriously? Eight years old asking this question, and right before bed? I knew this was one I was going to have to talk through, but how? I tried to come up with all the theological answers I’ve been told in the past, and I think I butchered a couple of them pretty good. I tried to give him historical information, none of which I could really validate on my own. I stumbled around, searching for the right words to convince him that Jesus really is who He said He is and we believe because it’s true. None of it worked. From the depth of my soul I silently cried, “God help” while I continued to fumble with weak explanations, trying desperately to give a convincing argument. I wouldn’t have believed me.

That’s when it hit me. The only real argument I had was what Jesus has done for me, and in me. All the history and theology is good for someone who can use it in an argument, but as hard as I tried, I was not that person. And to tell the truth, Max isn’t the kid who’s going to believe it anyway. No, Max is going to have to come up in this the hard way. How do I know? I was him, or he is me, depending on how you want to look at it. He is struggling, not with the validity of the argument, but with the giving up of his will to another, especially another that he cannot see, touch, or most importantly engage in audible argument. His will is strong, much like mine, and it has a rebellious mind of its own. As a mother, my first instinct was to think I can rule and rein it out of him, almost like a demand, “Stop it. I’m your mother, that’s why.” But I already knew that would NEVER work with Max. I thought about just telling him to go to sleep, he would figure it out eventually, but I remember how effective that argument was in my life. That wasn't going to work either.

So I told him a story. I told him of the night before I went to Teen Challenge. He stopped crying and listened closely as I told him of what might have been the most fearful night of my life. I began to cry as I shared the moment when I looked up into the dark of that night, and the dark of my own soul, and prayed a simple yet honest prayer. “ God, I don’t know you and I don’t know if you’re really there, but if you are and you hear me, please help me.” As the tears streamed down my face, I told my son the story of my own lack of faith, and how God heard me anyway. I shared with him the way God answered that frail little prayer and carried me through the hardest year of my life. God came close to me that night, so close I could feel Him beginning to break apart the hard parts. I looked down at Max’s sweet face, took his hand in mine, and said, “Baby, I can tell you what Jesus has done in me, but I can’t make you believe it. I can promise you that as you work to figure this faith thing out, God will be with you every step of the way, and so will I. Now you pray whatever it is you need to pray.”
Through quiet sobs, Max closed his eyes, clutched my hand, and whispered, “God, I don’t understand. Please help me understand You. Amen.” It was the most beautiful, honest, and difficult moment I’ve had with Max so far.

I believe there will be more moments and they will most likely be more difficult than this one. But in those moments, I will listen closely, maybe even strain, to hear the very words I promised to Max - God will be there.