Oh Be Careful

Oh, be careful little eyes, what you see.
Oh, be careful little eyes, what you see.
There’s a Father up above, looking down in tender love,
So be careful little eyes, what you see.

Be careful little ears what you hear
Be careful little mouth what you say…
Be careful little hands, what you touch…
Be careful little feet, where you go…”                                     ~ author unknown Is it just me? I’m not feeling the tender love. I may stand alone on this one, but I think this is a very peculiar way to teach little children about the Father. When I had little eyes and little ears, it formed a picture of God for me (we sang it a lot in Sunday School) that was a cross between The Wizard of Oz:

Wizard of Oz: [in a booming voice] Step forward, Tin Man!
Tin Woodsman: [terrified, steps forward] Ohhhh!
Wizard of Oz: [still in a booming voice] You DARE to come to me for a heart, do you? You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caligenous junk!

And Santa Claus:

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town

He’s making a list
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out Who’s naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town

He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!

I’d seen Santa and the Great and Powerful Oz. I hadn’t seen God yet, but apparently He had a giant eye in sky that was always looking down, watching, waiting to catch me doing something wrong. Be careful!

I spent 40 years being careful, trying and failing, wanting so desperately to never make any mistakes, before I finally saw the God, not just of glory, but of grace. We do need to be careful! Careful about the kind of pictures we paint of the Father for others.

(Casting Crowns has an interesting take on this song called Slow Fade)

Who Am I?

Who Am I?
Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name
Would care to feel my hurt?
Who am I, that the bright and morning star
Would choose to light the way
For my ever wondering heart?

Not because of who I am
But because of what You’ve done
Not because of what I’ve done
But because of who You are

I am a flower quickly fading
Here today and gone tomorrow
A wave tossed in the ocean
A vapor in the wind

Still You hear me when I’m calling
Lord You catch me when I’m falling
And You told me who I am
I am Yours, I am Yours

Who am I, that the eyes that see our sin
Would look on me with love
And watch me rise again?

Who am I, that the voice that calmed the sea
Would call out through the rain
And calm the storm in me?

Still You hear me when I’m calling
Lord You catch me when I’m falling
And You told me who I am
I am Yours, I am Yours

~ Casting Crowns

Who am I? I live out the answer to that question every day by what I choose to pick up and by what I freely lay down.

Who am I  to offer less than the grace I so eagerly receive from the Lord who always hears me when I’m calling and catches me when I’m falling? Who am I  to ever, ever pick up a stone instead of casting a crown?

We are remarkably feeble, fragile souls, so easily toppled by a look or a word. Who am I? You’ll know by what fills my pockets.