CHRISTIAN SENSE
A publication devoted to making sense out of the twenty-first century.
GOD IS UNDER THE BED
By: AUTHOR UNKNOWN (if anyone knows the source please let us know.)
Here is a nice little story I received via email.
Please do as the story says and pass it on to your friends)
My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's
what I heard him say one night. He was praying out loud in his dark
bedroom, and I stopped outside his closed door to listen. "Are you there,
God?" he asked. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed.
I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique
perspectives are often a source of joy that lingered long after the
humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin
lives in. He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of
difficulties during labor.
Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is
an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a
7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God
lives
under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our
tree every Christmas, and that airplanes stay up in the sky because
angels carry them.
I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever
dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off
to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker
spaniel, returning to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner,
and
later to bed. The only variation in the entire scheme are laundry
days, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with
her
newborn child. He does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the bus
every
morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work. He wrings his hands
excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays
up
late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry
chores. And Saturdays - oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day
my dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the
planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger
inside. "That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his
hands. His anticipation
is so he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
I don't think Kevin knows anything exists outside his world of daily
rituals and weekend field trips. He doesn't know what it means to be
discontent. His life is simple. He will never know the entanglements
of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he
wears or what kind of food he eats.
He recognizes no differences in people, treating each person as an
equal and a friend. His needs have always been met, and he never worries
that one day they may not be. His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so
happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums
the carpet, his heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job
when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But
when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax. He is not obsessed with
his work or the work of others. His heart is pure. He still believes
everyone tells the
truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize
instead
of argue.
Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not
afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always
transparent, always sincere.
And he trusts God. Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he
comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really
be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated"
person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion. In my moments of
doubt
and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in
his simple faith. It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has
some
divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions.
It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the
handicap, I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances -
they
all
become disabilities when I do not submit them to Christ. Who knows
if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent
his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking
up the goodness and love of the Lord. And one day, when the mysteries
of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is
to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who
believed that God lived under his bed.
Kevin won't be surprised at all.
HOME
