Josh and Christi told me a great Caleb and Zakary story while I was there. It seems one Sunday there were some leftover donuts. Josh was rewarded for his weekly efforts and was presented with said donuts to enjoy at home with his family. So he had the under his arm as he performed the usual final tasks and encouraging farewells.
And then Caleb saw them. Suddenly there was no, "Hi, Daddy. I had a great day in Sunday School." Oh, no. Now Daddy had to be made aware that he was carrying the most massive rare jewel in the history of the world – the treasure trove the most dreaded pirate ever could only dream about – the bestest most wonderfulest prize possible. This was an event so special that Daddy must not be aware of what he has cradled so carelessly under his Bible (although the placement is certainly appropriate. The most important book and this fabulous find). Caleb raced over to Josh and bounced around him, bobbing and pointing and excitedly making him aware that there was a box under his arm that could only contain one thing … donuts. And of course the inevitable follow-up question finally slipped out as well, "Can I have one?" Not wanting Caleb to wallow in the depths of wondering, Josh immediately responded that Caleb could indeed have one (oh, the exhilaration) – after lunch. Ah, the disappointment, for everyone knows that a three year old can only process time in tiny little three minute tidbits. "After lunch" might as well be "after you achieve stardom in your chosen profession." Caleb was crushed, heartbroken. The ride home was destined to be an interminably long one.
And there they were. The donuts were sitting on the armrest between Josh and Christi. Caleb was in his car seat, eyeing them and pondering the situation. And after about 15 minutes he had an idea. "Can I just look at the donuts? Can you open the box? I not eat them. I just look at them." Ah, an admirable thought. He would simply gaze at them longingly. That's really all he needed anyway, just a glance, merely a look to assure him of the pleasures that awaited after the upcoming meal. It was the perfect solution. Alas. Not happening.
A few more moments passed, Caleb's young brain whirring nonstop, almost audibly. A new idea. "I hold the box of donuts. I not eat them. I just hold them." There. How could they possible refuse that one? Mommy wouldn't have to keep her arm in that terribly uncomfortable position to make sure they wouldn't fall. He was only thinking of her welfare, to be sure. You know the answer he got to that one. Frustrated mightily, he pouted for a while.
And then, the ultimate resolution came to him. Of course. Why had it taken so long to reach this point? It was brilliant. "I not hold the box of donuts. I just hold the donuts. I not eat them. I just hold them and look at them." Well, that was more than even Zakary could stand. After waiting patiently through all the other sibling suggestions, he could hold it back no longer. Mustering his most grown-up voice, he matter-of-factly piped in, "That's called temptation, Caleb." Needless to say the box stayed closed and close to Mom and Dad. Nice try, Caleb. And nice theology, Zakary.
1 John 1:8-10 says, "If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. 9 If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 10 If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives."
Father, thank you for giving us the means to fight off temptation, whether it be in the form of Mommies and Daddies or older brothers or your still, small voice. Amen.
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