Warfare Classroom
Our sons became actors of international renown on our recent trip along the Thailand-Burma border. Our traveling group of a dozen performed the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abedenego three times — once in church, and twice in refugee camps. E, H, and W played the part of the heroes … while someone narrated the story with a translator.
You’ll recall that the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is in the book of Daniel. King Nebuchadnezzar commands all his subjects to bow down to a golden statue of the king or get thrown in a super fiery furnace. The three heroes refuse … with this crucial line:
If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.
You can imagine our conversation with the boys when it was floated that they might be acting in a skit during our border trip. In front of people. In public. On stage. Possibly in Burma.
A few days later, E, H, and W were a bit more willing … when our trip leader D.EB invited them to listen in as he narrated pictures and video from recent clashes with the Burma army. D.EB had convened a meeting in a border church for district commanders in his organization; S had convened a meeting of our boys in a back pew to get some schoolwork math done.
A sound file of war footage is embedded in this photograph.
I’ve forgotten to ask our boys what they remember about that briefing … or whether they connected the dots, perhaps, between the Trust of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace and the Trust of ethnic fighters when real bullets were flying. It’s possible that it was just really raw footage that gripped them in profound ways.
Whatever their lesson that day, it’s yet another reminder that I CAN’T CONTROL EVERYTHING about what they learn, what they see and hear, or even the path they choose in life.
That’s Trust, too. Right?
My prayer has always been “Lord, please protect my boys.” It’s not a bad prayer, necessarily … but I struggle with letting them go. I want to manage their protection. I struggle with what it means for them to be free, with what they’ll face in that freedom. I struggle with the prospect of them facing a fiery furnace.
So, I’ve been praying a new prayer for our boys, based on what we experienced on our border trip: “Lord, please guide my sons in the path that they’ve chosen.”
It’s a small step. But I’m working on Trust.
This is such a difficult lesson each parent must learn and relearn. Bless you all.
In a blog chock-full of profoundness, this post is especially evocative to me, and accompanied by some very inspirational photos. Thanks for sharing and elevating a familiar struggle of parents everywhere. Thinking of you guys often.