Sometimes, life comes at me with bigger questions than I'm prepared to handle.
What do you say when your son asks you: "Mommy, is God bigger than giants?"
Of course, from a structural standpoint, since God is not actually standing in front of me with measurable height, weight, and mass, I can't say, "Why yes, as a matter of fact, son, God is bigger than giants."
So I hem and haw and come up with the half-understood explanation that "God made giants, so it makes sense that He'd be bigger than them."
My oldest daughter pipes up. "But if He lives inside your heart, how can He be big?"
That's about the point where I glance skyward and think, A little help here, God?
Sometimes, those huge questions can mean your life or your death.
The still-unfolding situation of the mall-shooting in Kenya has got me thinking seriously about where I stand in my faith. As the story goes, the shooters have asked each person standing on the other end of their rifle whether or not they are Muslim. If the answer is yes, they are free to go. If not, they die.
The one major question that has rankled in my brain since I read the first headline is this: Would I have the guts? I'd like to think so. After all, I've been a Christian since the tender age of four, and while I haven't always been obedient or faithful or even a very willing follower of Christ, I like to think my journey has always been in a forward motion, never complacent.
Other questions rise.
What if I held my two-year-old daughter in my arms at the end of that rifle? Would that change my answer?
What if my husband was waiting for me at home with three young children who were about to become motherless depending on my answer?
All it would take would be one tiny, little, three-letter word - yes - and my life would be spared.
My life would be spared . . . but could I live with that? Could I walk out of that mall knowing that with that three-letter word, I had in effect denied everything I had built my life on?
I'd like to think that I would have the courage, but in truth, I don't know. Hard times. Hard questions. I guess I won't know the answer until I'm actually there.