She’s Going To Be A Sea Turtle

20170127_130430“She said she wanted to be a sea turtle for career today at school,” I said and chuckled. “Go figure.”

“Yeah, that was pretty funny,” God answered while examining a portrait on my office wall. The image was that of an angel standing guard over a sleeping child. “She sure made me smile when she said that,” He continued and leaned forward as if exploring the portrait’s finer details. “And it certainly gives a little insight into how she sees things.”

He tapped at the frame and then turned to look at me. “Just so you know,” He said, “for a moment there, I was thinking about giving the little sweetheart what she wanted.”

“Please don’t,” I said and took a bite from a slice of pizza that had been delivered to my office by one of the eighth grade students from the school. God gave a smile and then sat down in the guest chair nearest to the portrait.

“I like that painting,” He said motioning over His shoulder toward the image. “Right out of Matthew chapter 18, I’d say.”

“Yep,” I said and took another bite. I was waiting for Him to lead the conversation. It didn’t take long.

“People have a funny way of superimposing things upon my Word that are really rather foreign to it.”

His words surprised me.

“You just said you liked the painting,” I mumbled through a mouthful.

“I do,” He said swiftly. “That’s not what I mean.” He crossed one leg over the other and then slid in the vinyl seat cushion to a partial slouch. Looking up at the depiction, He kept on, “It’s a reasonable rendition, I’d say. The artist really thought it through. I think he captured something splendid from his imagination.”

He paused for a moment.

“But when people look at an image like this,” He said, “what do they see?”

I took another bite, but this time I swallowed before answering.

“I don’t know,” I said lazily. “Maybe they see an angel and a kid sleeping.”

“Maybe,” He said and then let another moment pass.

“I think a lot of folks these days just see a fantastical creature,” He picked up again, “something of lore—something that’s really just an alternate rendition of the pudgy little cherubs they’ve seen in the Christian bookstores.” He scratched His head. “They see something that’s nice to think about, but in the end, it may not really exist. They give the whole scene over to the mythical things.”

“That’s not what I see,” I said and glanced at the painting.

“What is it that you see, Chris?”

“Well, I guess I see a being You created,” I answered. “I see something I know is real because Your Word says it’s real.”

God sat quietly and listened.

“I see something that can go back and forth, something very powerful that can glide between Your sphere and ours, showing up in places with a divine directive.”

“Absolutely,” God grinned. “And powerful, you say? You should read 2 Kings 19:35. That was just one angel.” He turned back to see the painting.

There was another moment of quiet before He spoke. “Anything else?” He asked.

I stared more intently.

“I see an inexhaustible vigilance,” I said. “I see Your will being done in the middle of the night. I see a child being kept safe in the darker hours—those hours when the will of a mom or a dad’s struggles to keep up.”

“Yeah,” He said. “I’m glad you see that, too.”

God reached toward a slice of the pizza. “May I?” He asked politely. I nodded and pushed the plate toward Him.

“So,” He began while taking a bite, “when Evelyn grows up she wants to enter the workforce as a sea turtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said. “A sea turtle.” When she grows up, I thought.

“You know,” He laughed, “I’m omniscient, and yet I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much sea turtles make these days.”

I laughed a little, too. “We’ll have the basement ready,” I said. “Just in case it doesn’t pan out.”

evelyn-at-work

Author: AngelsPortion

Angelsportion is Reverend Christopher I. Thoma. He is the pastor of a congregation in Michigan. He is a husband to Jennifer. He is the father of Joshua, Madeline, Harrison, and Evelyn. He confidently considers himself to be a theologian. He cautiously considers himself to be a writer, poet, hymnographer, and of course, a connoisseur of finer Scotch whiskies.

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