Yesterday was a difficult day for our little Pop-Tart. She got a good taste of what it's like to do wrong, to be known in that wrong, to regret the wrong and the source of it, and then to be forgiven that wrong.
It all started when Poppy indulged herself in the M & M jar located on the bathroom shelf without asking. We've been trying to potty-train Willow, so our extra incentive to do so is through the method of positive reinforcement as opposed to negative reinforcement or punishment. Every time Willow successfully relieves herself in the toilet and not her diaper or panties (sometimes called "under-bunders" in our household), she's rewarded with an M & M. Willow always asks to give one to Poppy too, so they both share in the victory. However, yesterday Poppy found herself in the bathroom all by herself and just couldn't resist the temptation to help herself to a few M & M's (which is a big Boo Hao, "No-No"), only to be seen by her big brother, Barret. Doing the right thing, Barret informed Victoria, and Victoria then proceeded to confront Poppy while her mouth was stuffed with chocolate bursting out both sides of her cheeks. Poppy started to tell Victoria that she didn't know what she was talking about, but Victoria gave her one chance to dig a shallow grave as opposed to a deep one by stopping her mid-sentence and insisting she tell the truth. Poppy confessed and was then sent to her room to confess her sin to Jesus and ask for forgiveness. When she came out about ten minutes later, she caught my glance and somberly and slowly said with head bowed, "I sinned and asked Jesus to forgive me." I told her that was good and it was over.
Not more than about ten or fifteen minutes later, Poppy grabbed a toy away from Willow that she was playing with and I caught her doing it right in front of me. When I confronted her about it, she quickly (and fortunately) confessed her wrong, hugged Willow and told her she was sorry. Poppy then began to pout and sauntered over to the couch where she started to suck her fingers and look forlornly into space with glassy eyes that were about to shed tears. I walked over to her, knelt down and softly asked, "Poppy, do you want to talk to Daddy?" She whimpered and said, "I'm tired of sinning", and then began to cry a little. I assured her that she was forgiven, it was over, and that God could help her overcome these things in the future.
And then, just about 45 minutes or so after that, I caught her with her fingers in the cookie dough (Victoria was baking some chocolate chip cookies for us and a friend from church that's been ill). When Poppy saw that I saw her, as quick as lightning she stuck a fresh, dough covered chocolate chip into her mouth hoping that it would be fast enough that I wouldn't notice. No such luck. I then whisked Poppy up into my arms and took her to the back room; she wailed all the way there. The third time was a charm and, after she stopped crying, we had a deep talk (as deep as you can get with a four-year old) about the presence of God being all around us and that nothing escapes His eyes. In the same way, I told her that nothing could make Him, or me, or Victoria stop loving her and that because of that love she should want to please Him and us all the more.
Whether Poppy's remorse was genuine because she's truly beginning to know and understand just how ugly trespasses are, or because she was just caught in her trespass three times in a row, we do not know. Regardless, Victoria and I feel for her because we know all too well how frustrating it is to wrong our Lord, know we've wronged Him, feel bad about it, confess it, and then no sooner do we turn around and wrong Him yet again. In the same way that Jesus calls us to forgive 70 times 7 times (meaning infinitely), so God patiently forgives and loves.
It's hard to be a sinner, but sometimes it's even harder when you know you're one.
Graciously forgiven,
Tom (& Victoria)
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