By: Dennis Bates
Sometimes it is the simplest things in life that can teach us one of God’s truths. Take just the other day, for example. I had just gone down to my writing area after dinner and opened a long involved file that I needed to revise when I heard my daughter screaming and yelling directly above me. I thought my wife was there so I didn’t jump right up to see what the problem was.
When I heard a thud, followed by a long series of similar sounds, I jumped up from my chair and headed upstairs. Halfway up the steps I heard my daughter’s very strained voice pleading.
“Can somebody please help me,” she kept saying.
When I got to the kitchen I was just ahead of my wife and there stood my daughter trying desperately to hold onto the refrigerator door as things spilled out of it onto the floor. The door from the refrigerator had come completely detached, and although my daughter is tenacious and quite strong, the door was winning the contest they were having.
Just as I got to her so I could at least help her balance the door, one of the inside door shelves let loose and three kinds of mustard, a bottle of soy sauce, two kinds of salad dressing and whatever else we had crammed into the shelf hit the floor. All I could think was, “I’m sure glad we don’t store our eggs in the door. It was a big enough mess as it was.”
As the two of us steadied the door, my wife started pulling the things that were left in the door out and setting them on the counter. My biggest worry at that point was that somebody would step on one of the jars or cans rolling around freely on the floor and fall. We didn’t.
Fortunately, once we had the door unloaded it was simply a matter of moving the contents of the refrigerator to the much smaller back up frig we keep in the basement. Since it is smaller, we were forced to do some on the spot cleaning of the main unit and throw away all those teaspoons of peas, left over casseroles and mostly empty condiment bottles that everyone keeps in their refrigerator far too long. None had mold on them yet, so they probably still would be there, had we not been forced to dispose of them.
The repair man is upstairs as I write this trying to figure out why a perfectly good refrigerator door would pull free from its hinges and make a run for it. I couldn’t tell, and I wouldn’t begin to try to fix the door myself. Even if I had finally figured out how to do it, my extremely limited mechanical skills would have picked the hardest and most convoluted way to get the job done, and who needs the frustration when there are so many much better qualified people looking for work these days?
The thing I can’t get out of my head though is the sound of my daughter’s voice when she stood there helplessly trying to hold on to the door until somebody heard her. How many times every minute of every day must God hear the same cries from us? My wife was in another room and hadn’t heard her and I was on the floor below and assumed somebody else would help out. Neither of us responded because we thought somebody else would.
With God there is nobody else and as both the Old Testament and the New Testament promise,
“Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you.”
“Won’t somebody please help me?”
God is never in the next room or on a different floor, and he never assumes anybody else will help. He is always right there ready to catch the refrigerator doors when we pull them off.