God Keeps His Distance From The Proud

My father served in the Canadian Air Force for five years as an airframe mechanic. His wanted to be a pilot, but he failed the physical examination because he was colour-blind. The two types of aircraft my father worked on were the Mosquito and Lancaster Bombers. The Alberta Aviation Museum had one of these types of planes on display, a Mosquito Bomber. Here are some pictures:

The Mosquito Bomber is a British two-man crew aircraft with multiple roles; it was used as both a bomber and a fighter.

For its first few years of operation, it was the fastest aircraft in the world. It has four machine guns and four cannons, and can carry up to 2000 pounds of bombs or eight unguided rockets.

During my tour of the museum, I thought much about my father. I remember the day I had a test in school to see if I was colour-blind. I was about twelve years old. I thought the test was interesting because, until that time, I didn't even know that a person could be colour-blind. When I came home, I told my mother all about the test. This is when she told me that my father was colour-blind. With my young, underdeveloped mind, I thought, "Wow, that's cool! I can't wait to tell my friends."

I ran downstairs to my father where he was working and asked him excitedly, "Is it true? Are you colour-blind?"

My father turned to me with that angry look I saw so often and started punching me as hard as he could. When I was able to get away, I ran upstairs to my room and cried. The physical pain at first was unbearable, but when the pain subsided, the emotional pain was worse. Aren't fathers supposed to protect their little girls, not hurt them? I was scared to death of my father. I never felt safe at home. The only place I ever felt safe was church.

Unfortunately, it seems that churches are becoming less and less the sort of place where a person can feel safe. In fact, until last Sunday, I have not felt safe in a church for years.

Last Sunday, when I went to church with my family, I felt the same safeness I used to feel. The pastor of the church saw that we were new and immediately came over to us, introducing himself by his first name. When he spoke his message, he spoke on the same level as us, not on the podium. He didn't have charisma. He actually spoke mono-tone. But he spoke the Word of God and had Christ in his heart. The message, entitled "Eating God's Word," was profound: some people eat quickly, some distaste it, some savour each bite, and some nibble at it.

At the end of the message, the pastor took a passage of Scripture and taught a practical lesson on how to read God's Word, using four steps. Afterwards, he encouraged everyone to feel free to approach him at any time with any questions, concerns, or disagreements, and he would be pleased to discuss them. I thought I was dreaming.

As we were leaving, one of my sons turned to me afterwards and said, "He forgot to take an offering."

My husband responded, "No, there's an offering box in the foyer."

I thought, "Wow! Now that's faith!"

As we left, the pastor again shook our hands and personally invited my sons to his house Thursday for a potluck dinner, along with the twenty-six other young adults in the church. I thought, "This is what church is supposed to be like."

It saddens me to think that so many churches today have lost their way and are far from being Christ-like. Many pastors have become so spiritually proud that God keeps His distance.

"Though the Lord is great,

He cares for the humble,

but He keeps His distance from the proud."
Psalm 138:6 (NLT)