I want to spoil my kids.
Deliberately, and without remorse.
I want to take
. . . them to church week after week and let them set out too long in the warmth of God’s love expressed by the fellowship of believers.
I want to throw
. . . them into a bushel of saints—young ones and old ones and in-betweens—so that they’ll come into contagiously close contact.
I want to overexpose
. . . them to God’s glory shining through the Word of God, glowing on the faces of His people, radiating from the presence of the Holy Spirit, reflecting through earnest and powerful prayer.
I want to overindulge
. . .their quest for freedom and wholeness and fulfillment by bringing them to the foot of a lonely cross. There, sin is obliterated by the blood of Jesus and both self-worship and self-destruction are crucified with Christ “so that they may take hold of that which is truly life” (1 Timothy 6:19).
I want to cater
. . . to their desire to “see it all” and “have it all.” I will help remove the shortsightedness of only earthly living and surrealism of culture that envelops them, so that they may glimpse the hope to which they are called and grasp the reality of immortality.
The Lord leading me, I want to do my best to spoil them for this world, so that it never really satisfies. So that they have seen too much and understood too deeply to buy into its message. So they demand far more than the world can supply and expect far too much for it to satisfy, and so that they know Who can fulfill their longing.
I know that all my spoiling can’t preserve them. They have a choice. I just want to do all I can to spoil their likelihood of choosing wrong.
I want to spoil my kids.
On purpose and beyond salvaging.
It’s the best method of preservation I know.
