Giving My Dinosaurs

Tonight my pastor, Jonathan, preached a message about dinosaurs. He brought along a collection of his 4-year-old son's dinosaurs. Among them were the mighty T-Rex (which roared), the slightly less-scary Brontosaurus and the downright wimpy Pterodactyl. Jonathan explained that when he and his son play dinosaurs together, Carter will offer to let his dad choose a dinosaur, but he's really only willing to give the wimpy Pterodactyl.

We then looked at the story of Cain and Abel found in Genesis 4. Abel brought his best to God, the first of his flock, while Cain brought some of his fruits — his leftovers. Jonathan was sharing this in the context of monetary giving, but it hit me at a different level. He talked about how as the father, he ultimately has control of his son's dinosaurs. He gave them to Carter, he has the power to take them away and the only reason he's even asking for them is for the joy of playing dinosaurs with his son. His son's tendency to only offer the smallest, wimpiest dinosaur shows a lack of understanding of his father.

I began to wonder how often I think of things — belongings, circumstances, relationships — as mine and only trust God with my leftovers. I'm quick to trust Him with areas of my life that could go either way — "Lord, if it's Your will let me get that promotion" — but when it comes to things I deeply care about, I'd rather stay in control.

What would happen if I gave all my dinosaurs to God? Even my best — the T-Rex? I suspect that my Father, who has more love for me than an earthly father could, would use my dinosaurs in ways I could never dream or imagine. This week I think I'm going to get a dinosaur — not the Pterodactyl but the T-Rex — to remind me of what I want to offer Him.