Found this from an journal entry dated this month four years ago…
I have worked with kids in an elementary school for the past year and it’s been amazing. I’ve loved it and they have taught me so much.
One sunny morning I was out on the playground and I was mesmerized by the children’s imagination. I saw many kings and castles, crocodiles and karaoke stars, damsels and darth vaders. Quite a few of these dreamers came to me to share their skill or talent. “Miss Tiffany, watch me sleigh the dragon,” or “Miss Tiffany, listen to me talk like Darth Vader!” I absolutely loved wading in their world, it was enchanting.
This morning out on the playground however, hasn’t left my mind in months. There was a little boy, or should I say an eager rock climber straining to climb the highest of peaks, on the jungle gym. He was smaller than the rest and had big thick glasses that made his eyes look like the size of golf balls. His hair was tempting to model a mullet but it wasn’t certain. He was louder than his size and made you grin with his audacious facial expressions. As he climbed, he found himself stuck with his foot caught between bars. I was about 15 feet away but heard his cry, “Miss Tiffany, help me, I need help!” I found my young friend with his wide eyes in the middle of his predicament and assured him he was o.k. I jiggled his foot free from its trap, and he flashed me a smile of thanksgiving, and then continued up higher to the peak. I walked away adoring this little boy for his plea. Then about two minutes later I heard the same distressed cry from the same young climber, “Miss Tiffany, help me, I need help!” I once again came to his rescue assuring him he was fine, and again set him free from the same trap he had previously encountered. He again thanked me and headed on.
This time I walked away and wished that I had the desperation this little guy had. I wish I was desperate for a Savior even when I’m the one who’s thrown my self again and again into the pit of malfunction. Without shame he called for help, even when he knew he had fallen in a familiar trap. I took an account of how many times I do not dare cry out for help because it’s the same old story of failures and why would anyone help, why would a Savior rescue again and again? Then this child dared to continue on his hike upwards and onwards after his rescue. He accepted help and then moved on.
So often I’ve sent myself to the pit of self-condemnation rather than accept grace. I wouldn’t dream of continuing the uphill battle, come on now, how could I continue when I can’t even accept grace?
I love how my Savior changes all that. He’s in control. When my foot falls in a deceiving trap he comes to my rescue again and again. Why? Because he loves me. How dare I enslave myself when I am free. I have a Savior who’s into rescuing but there’s something I must do… get desperate. My young friend was desperate for help, regardless that the climb ahead was daunting, or he had fallen in the same trap twice, he was desperate.
Don’t be afraid to be desperate for the Savior.