Anyone who has been the parent of a three year old has heard this simple yet forceful declaration of ownership: “MINE!”
It’s actually an important developmental milestone for children as they are forming a sense of self. They need to learn that they are a unique individual, separate from Mom and Dad. A person with their own needs, ideas, and things they can call, “MINE!”
So it’s important. But it’s also kinda laughable.
Because you know they’re three. You know they don’t really own any of it. You do. They have only been given the privilege of access to the things that you allow into their sphere. Because you’re generous and trustworthy and good.
You gave them that toy, that blanket, that sweatshirt, that cup of animal crackers. It’s only theirs to enjoy because you wanted to give it to them. And you’d prefer it if they didn’t use that blessing as a weapon against their sibling nor cling to it so tightly it can’t be pried away by your loving hands or shared with a friend.
You probably see where I’m going with this. How many times a day do I assert my own declarations of ownership?
My job. My house. My money. My time. My kids.
I think it’s mine. It’s laughable. It’s only mine to enjoy because our Father in Heaven generously gave it to me.
There’s a song I’ve had on repeat for the past two weeks. It’s called Jireh by Maverick City Music. Jireh means “Provider” and it is the name of our God who loves to provide for his people (see Genesis 22). He is generous and trustworthy and good.
And I think He’d probably like us to be less like a three year old when we think about the gifts He’s given us.
There’s a posture I literally assume when this is difficult for me. It may be in a time of private prayer or it may be during corporate worship. But when I’m convicted of something in my heart that I’m clutching like a toddler, I hold open my hands to the Lord and think or say, “It’s yours.”
The job. The house. The money. The time. The kids.
It’s not mine. It’s His. He is the giver. He is the owner. He is the boss. And He is enough.
He’s so generous and trustworthy and good. We don’t need to worry. It’s going to be okay. We can uncurl our fists and just say thanks.
“Therefore I tell you: Don’t worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Isn’t life more than food and the body more than clothing? Consider the birds of the sky: They don’t sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth more than they? Can any of you add one moment to his life span by worrying? And why do you worry about clothes? Observe how the wildflowers of the field grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these. If that’s how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and thrown into the furnace tomorrow, won’t he do much more for you—you of little faith? So don’t worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you. Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
–Jesus, Matthew 6
