Gravitation and Trajectory

Kids like to experiment with the laws of physics, right? Well, I was no exception. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I was old enough to have an air rifle (affectionately known as a “bee-bee gun”) – probably about twelve years old.

I loved that gun. And I was pretty careful with it when I shot bee-bees. But one day I decided that I wanted to do more with my gun. I had the brilliant idea that the gun would probably shoot wooden matches. I tried it out by shooting matches against the brick wall of my home and discovered that the matches lit every time. Spectacular!

Then the devil whispered in my ear and gave me an idea. Here is the setting. My home was on a two-lane street and our front porch was relatively close to the street. The porch had a brick wall around it and if I hunkered down behind it, I was not at all visible from the street. Across the street there was a heavily traveled sidewalk because of a mom-and-pop grocery just down the block.

OK – have you got the devilish picture? I practiced at night shooting matches over the street aiming at the sidewalk on the other side. And I got darned good at hitting the sidewalk – here was my physics experiment with gravitation and trajectory.

So….I began hunkering down so as not to be seen and shooting matches near pedestrians on the opposite sidewalk. I loved to watch their reaction when the match lit up in front of them. They would jump back and look at it wondering what it was and whether it was safe to proceed. Then they would look around trying to find where it came from but, of course, I was well hidden.

I got away with this fun routine of shooting matches near pedestrians for a long time. I couldn’t get enough of it even though my giggling almost gave my location away at times.

Then it happened! One unfortunate soul was bombarded on his walk from the nearby grocery store and proceeded to drop his bag of groceries on the sidewalk with a resounding crash of glass. He was smarter than the rest and it didn’t take him long to figure out where it came from – and he stopped to do something about it. My heart sank as he charged across the street and up onto my porch. Evidence of my marksmanship was still plastered on the opposite sidewalk. He separated me from my gun and with a firm grip on my wrist knocked on our front door and had a short but meaningful conversation with my mother.

At the risk of sounding politically incorrect as well as having my parents misunderstood or misjudged, I received individual, timely, well placed, corporal punishment. In other words - it stung! I started to cry while I was still in therapy. And when my Dad heard about it, I received some more therapy which stung!

The notion that we can do as we please and not experience separation and pain from those we love has been around for a long time. An old lie is still a lie - and believing it still yields the same results. Distance from home only adds inertial weight to the mistake which finds its destructive mark. As children of our heavenly Father we have believed lies about Him that keep us running back to the porch and shooting matches because it is “fun”. Missing our mark in life (the literal meaning of the word “sin”) means attempting to make our own physics experiments in all the wrong places. As grownups, we try at times for the fun of “shooting our matches”. But God has reached farther than we can run. While we hope that the stupid things we've done won't come back to haunt us, we have each experienced enough of life to know that we reap what we sow. What goes up must come back down – or what lights up might cause groceries to fall.

But we were put here to grow up into children of God weren't we? Surely we all won’t become a permanent version of every stupid thing we've done! We're meant to see where we're headed and aim for plan and action which does our neighbor good instead of harm. The One who entered our life on this planet once for every man did so out of love for His creation and we are lifted to a higher calling and higher reward in Him. The One who came down for us was lifted back up with us in his arms. His discipline is always filled with hope and not hatred, diligence and not damnation. He knows the limits of our frame and our habitual weaknesses!

Thanks, Dad and Mom, for helping me realize that becoming good at hitting that sidewalk was really missing the mark. Thank you also for teaching me that what happened in our savior's life, death and resurrection eclipses anything we could mess up across the street, or anywhere else.

Real dads love forever.

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