There can only be two basic loves…the love of
God unto the forgetfulness of self, or the love of
self unto the forgetfulness and denial of God.
ST. AUGUSTINE
My new puppy is proof that you can’t judge the strength of a dog’s will by its size. Marley is tiny, but his resolve is huge. He is also just clever enough to get his way despite my best efforts…at least until I find him out!
That’s just what happened with Marley’s playpen. I got it so he would have a protected place to play. He would be safely contained inside, but have more room to romp around than if I crated him when I couldn’t watch him. I found a great model that could be folded up and put in a carrying bag. It was lightweight and had a zip-on top. This top and the pen’s sides were mesh, so Marley could get plenty of ventilation and enjoy looking at the outside world. The playpen’s floor also seemed ideal. It was made of a washable material and was secured in place at various points with Velcro. I loved that it could be removed for cleaning.
I didn’t realize it could be removed for other purposes as well… and not just by a human.
One evening shortly after setting up this new puppy play area in my office, I decided to leave Marley in his pen while I got dinner. When I returned, he was loose in the room. I was stunned. At first, I wondered if I’d simply forgotten to contain him. But I soon realized what had happened. Marley had tugged at the pen’s floor, pulled it partway off its Velcro fasteners, and wriggled under the lightweight frame to escape.
In the days that followed, I tried sticking that floor piece down more firmly, but he kept pulling it up and getting out. I think he knew I didn’t care for his Houdini antics. He didn’t break out when I was watching. But every time I was gone for a while, my little Marley did it his way.
Finally, I had an idea. I flipped the playpen upside down so the zippered-on top was his new floor. I laid the old floor piece over the mesh for extra padding. Marley could no longer escape. Victory was mine—or was it?
Marley’s little body had been captured. His heart was a different matter. He kept pawing at the old floor piece, flipping it back. He got up on his little hind legs and chewed at the pen’s upper rim. Clearly, Marley’s heart remained outside the playpen even if his body couldn’t get there.
Like my dog, I’ve also had times when my heart was outside the playpen. One such period followed my father’s death. I was an only child, and I feared my mother would latch on to me too tightly now that her husband of forty years was gone. I was young, single, and selfish. I was also guilt-ridden that I hadn’t spent more time with Dad in his last months on this earth. Being with Mom and seeing her pain was like twisting a knife in that guilt wound. For all those reasons, I chafed at being in my mother’s company and home.
All these years later, I’m ashamed of how I acted then. I spent as little time at Mom’s house as I could. Finally, on one visit, I came down with some sort of inner ear problem and got vertigo. It was nothing serious, but I couldn’t leave when I had planned. I had to wait till the problem subsided and I could safely drive the 90 miles back to my LA home.
In playpen theology terms, I believe God was trying to contain me for my good, and Mom’s. I considered being with Mom a playpen I wanted to flee. I thought it might curtail my freedom, just as Marley felt his playpen did all those decades later. God, however, was trying to place me in a very different playpen—for Mom’s good and my blessing. That playpen was the fifth of God’s Ten Commandments: “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12).
By avoiding spending time with Mom, I had been refusing to stay in that playpen. Finally, God flipped it upside down. I was forced to remain with her an extra day or two. I did not respond well. I pawed at the flooring and chewed at the pen’s rim by expressing my frustration. Mom was rightfully hurt that I was so eager to leave. Rather than surrender my heart to the Lord and minister to the mother who needed me so badly, all I wanted to do was escape.
Mom was grieved, but she couldn’t force my heart into the playpen any more than I could force Marley’s. God could—but He chose to give us free will. Thankfully, He kept working on my heart. In later years, Mom and I drew much closer. But at the time, she took no joy in my extended visit with her, because she knew I didn’t want to be there.
What Mom desired was for me to freely give my heart to her. That is also what God wants from us. Our Creator who made us knows that forced love isn’t love at all. That’s why we must choose to receive Him and embrace the playpens He has given us to protect and bless us. Jesus said, “Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me” (John 14:21). God’s commands are spiritual playpens meant to keep us safe from harm and accomplish His kingdom purposes. But simply going through the motions isn’t enough. We must enter in willingly and love Him with our whole being.
I wrote the first draft of this story many weeks ago. As I sit tweaking it, Marley is playing on the floor. I’ve had him five months, and as he grows in his trust and love for me, he wants more and more to please me.
Over time, my trust and love for God have grown too. I’ve seen how His desires for me are for my good. And I’ve realized there is no better place to be than joyfully, willingly dwelling in the playpen of His loving care.
And now, Israel, what does the LORD your God ask of you but to fear the LORD your God, to walk in obedience to him, to love him, to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to observe the LORD’s commands and decrees that I am giving you today for your own good? (Deuteronomy 10:12-13).
When was your heart last outside the playpen with respect to God? What did you do? What was the result? Has your heart returned to the playpen? If not, why not? If so, what difference has it made?