I chose to say no to my kids' request for help. Am I mean?
It was 10:25pm on Super Bowl Sunday. We had just witnessed the Kansas City Chiefs get absolutely stomped by the Philadelphia Eagles. My twin teenage daughters asked me if I would do their braids and heatless curls (something they love having in overnight so they have magically fabulous locks in the morning). Looking at the clock and knowing their 6am wakeup was going to feel really rough if we took another 15 minutes for hair, I said, "Sorry, but not this late."
Did I want to do their hair? Absolutely.
Did I really dislike turning them down? Sure did. I felt like a meanie.
But did I want the best night's sleep possible for them even more? Yes.
I also knew that I would be awake with them the next morning and could curl their hair while they ate breakfast and still make it on their bus. So that temporary "no" would lead to an even better alternative.
They went to bed disappointed and a little hurt, but I knew I had made the right choice.
The next morning, I had a very clear thought when I woke up: God does this, too!
Sometimes we ask and hope for something, and sometimes get a "No, not now" answer.
It's frustrating and confusing and disappointing, and we might wonder what we did wrong or why He won't give us what we want -- or if He's even there at all. But when we look through the lens of God being a loving, caring Heavenly Father, we realize there's probably something He sees as a higher need (sleep, in my daughters' case) and we have to trust in His far-reaching view and keep moving forward. The good news is that with Him, there is always something even better available.
Jack R. Christensen, one of my favorite speakers, once said that the language of faith sounds like the statement, "There's a darn good reason."
When we pray for something and receive a "No," we can respond with acceptance and trust, and I'm confident the reason why will come and we will be even better off than we would have if it was the "Yes" we had hoped for.
There's a darn good reason.
