Yesterday I was reading my diary from a couple of years ago and read about the following incident. I thought perhaps it would be worth sharing my insights…
Well, the grandson was here again today and as is usual, the unusual happens when he is around.
Grandma had to leave for a little while and he has asked me to take him for a walk (translation: you walk with the dog on the leash and I’ll ride my hot wheels bike with you trying to keep up). Well that afternoon we did take our walk, got out the Hot Wheels and put on the riding helmet and took off. We enjoyed looking at bugs on the sidewalk and even stopped by his preschool teachers home, but she wasn’t home. It wasn’t a long walk, just around a large block in the city, so when we got home we stayed outside and let him ride his Hot Wheels on our paved driveway.
The drive has a pretty good slope down to the garage and he enjoys going to the top of hill and coasting back down as fast as he can go. Well, this went well for a few times then he started to get tired and said, “Grandpa, would you push me back up the hill?” Of course I did and that became the routine. He would hold out his feet and I would push him pretty fast (for a grandpa) back up the hill.
Well, one of the times we were going up the hill I saw his feet dip and get mixed up with the tire and the Hot Wheels started to turn over and I stumbled into it and started to fall on top of him and the bike. Without even thinking about it I wrapped my arms around him and the bike and threw myself over on my side and roll over with him and the bike ending up on top. Thankfully he wasn’t hurt at all, but for grandpa, that’s a different matter. It’s not terrible, it’s not life threatening, but try skidding on broom finished concrete. I got a couple of scrapes that drew enough blood to get a couple of oohs from Christopher, as well as my back, shoulder, etc. muscles hurting like I was beaten. Christopher told me a kiss from grandma and a Spiderman bandage would make it all better. I however made a quick trip to the pain reliever bottle and waited for grandmother to get back and doctor me.
The question is, “Why did I do that without a moment’s hesitation”? The answer is that “I love him more than myself and have no hesitation at taking any pain to prevent his injury. Any similarity between God and me is purely accidental, but the motivation is the same isn’t it. The question is “Why did God allow his Son to die on a cross”? Because he would do anything to prevent pain and separation for his people, the human race! “For God so loved the world (people) that he gave his only begotten son that who ever believes on him should not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
A kiss and a Spiderman Bandage won’t take away your sin; it took the sacrifice of a life to do that!
Have you said “Thank You to God lately”?
(Grandpa) Russ Lawson

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