Six year-old Isaac had a running argument with three year-old Isaiah for a few weeks, on the question of who owns Isaiah’s car seat. Isaac, more than any of my other children, has seized on the God trump card in arguments. “You’re not the boss of me,” he will declare to one of his older brothers. “GOD is.”
So you can imagine the argument. “Is my car seat,” Isaiah says.
“It’s not your car seat,” Isaac retorts. “It’s God’s.”
“Nope, is my car seat.”
“Isaiah! It’s GOD’S car seat!”
“It’s not God’s seat! Is Isaiah’s seat!”
Eventually they appeal to my authority. “Dad,” Isaac asks, “is it God’s car seat, or Isaiah’s?”
Read all the theological books you like, they won’t prepare you for these kinds of dilemmas. “Well,” I answer, “all good things come from God, and He is in charge of everything, but right now the seat is Isaiah’s to use.”
Isaac ponders this. It suits his sense of . . . Godness. Isaiah is satisfied with the apostrophe-s at the end of his name. He nods his head. “Is Isaiah’s car seat.”
I’m sure I got it all kinds of wrong, but I suspect the Lord doesn’t mind.