I work at a restaurant called Cerulean, whose Asian-Mediterranean fusion and high prices are known far beyond the limits of the small town in which it is located. Being a server at such an expensive restaurant, I see mostly businessmen and couples, and am ever astonished by the people who bring young children and infants to wine and dine–or, rather, milk and pasta–at our establishment.
Last week a family of three came into the restaurant with their baby, Ella, whose two-inch long pigtails poked out of her head like Grendel’s horns, and whose cheeks sagged with adorable baby fat. As the servers and busboys who walked past her aww-ed and cooed, her parents beamed with pride. We all reveled in the bouncing mass of joy that was this fat infant. Ella, whose only merit was being too young to speak and disillusion us all with the fact that she, too, was merely human, brought smiles to all who saw her and brightened the entire restaurant with her presence.
I was reminded that, in the chaos that is college life, the mayhem that is preparing for a trip, and all the stress that is involved in this colossal rat race, to God we are just bouncing babies. Even when we think that we can run figurative marathons in life, we are just toddlers. Given our circumstances, our youth, our potential and the resources that we, as the wealthiest top 3% of the world have at our disposal, we feel the need to charge exuberantly onward to best our own limitations and save the world from itself.
Sadly, we always come up short, being only human, but feeling that that should not be an excuse if we have the supernatural omnipotence of God on our side. Yet, even when we cannot do something perfectly, or drop the ball completely, God sees our hearts and motives and is satisfied with knowing we tried. Even when we Ellas try to clock Olympic times, God does not begrudge us that we stumble over our fat, undeveloped infant legs.
Matthew 25:23 is the verse with the well-known and oft-quoted, “Well done, good and faithful servant” phrase that we hope to hear upon reaching Heaven. We are all familiar with its context in the Parable of the Talents, a story about doing and achieving for God’s name, faithfully utilizing our individual talents to the best of our ability and all for the glory of the Father. But if, in attempting to do so, we fall short of fulfilling our potential, will God say to us, “You tried and failed, and so I will punish you”? The end of the parable is that the wicked and lazy servant didn’t try at all, and suffered the consequences of apathy, not of the fallen human’s intrinsic inability to achieve to perfection.
George MacDonald once said, “God is easy to please, but hard to satisfy.”
God does not expect us to reach perfection, though he will be satisfied with nothing less. Even so, he is so pleased with our efforts and zealous quest for him. He delights in us, even while we are immature in our faith and unable to do much on our own strength. Like Ella, we merit neither affection nor praise, yet God lavishes both on us and is limitlessly pleased with us, his babies, the apples of his eye.
