That is not the way you learned Christ!
I am pumped!
A former high school friend is running for local office. I decide to volunteer for his campaign.
It's my first real foray into politics.
My friend, Mr. Michael (pseudonym), is in a race against an opponent who has recently come under the scrutiny of law officials and the media.
Once the darling of the county, this incumbent is suspected of possible criminal dealings. He is on a frantic fall from grace.
Mr. Michael stands a chance to win . . .
I work at campaign headquarters two mornings a week. It's the only time I can give when my son, Daniel, aged three, is in mom's morning out. Sarah, just a baby, is content in a playpen thoughtfully provided by the volunteer staff and happy to be close to me.
It is after one of my morning sessions, driving home with my children, that Daniel becomes inquisitive.
"Mom, what do you do on the mornings I play with my friends?"
"I am working to help my friend, Mr. Michael, get elected to public office," I begin, and then explain in the best way I know how to my very young son why we vote and what elected officials do.
"Oh, look!" I interrupt myself and point excitedly out the window. "There's another sign for Mr. Michael! Hooray!"
"Hooray!" Daniel echoes, straining in his car seat to see the sign for himself. "Does that mean they're voting for him?"
"Yes, indeed," I assure him. "We put up signs in our yards to show we support a candidate and, hopefully, convince others to vote for him, too."
As we round the corner, I spy a sign supporting Mr. Michael's opponent.
"Boo! Hiss!" I malign, pointing once again. "That's the person we need to beat!"
"Why?" Daniel asks.
"Because he's done some bad things."
"What bad things?"
"Oh, you know, just things honest people shouldn't do."
I hope this vague answer suffices.
"Do people like him?"
"Some do, but most don't anymore. They don't like him and they don't trust him."
"Do you like him, Mom?"
"Not at all," I blurt without a second thought. "Why do you think I'm working so hard for Mr. Michael?"
Daniel is silent for several moments. One glance in my rear-view mirror discloses his pensive expression.
What is he thinking about?
"Mom," he says at last. "Jesus loves him."
I barely keep control of the wheel as this gargantuan piece of humble pie hits me square in the face.
I deserve it. I deserve to eat every single bitter bite of it . . .
"Daniel, you are right," I confess. "You are absolutely right."
When was the last time humble pie was on your menu?
Will you pray with me?
Help us, Father, to remember what Christ has taught us and to act as He would want us to. Forgive us when we miss the mark and fall short of Your will for us. Thank you for letting us glimpse the truth of Your kingdom through the eyes of a child. Amen.
Psalms 68 or 72
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