Do It Again!!

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

― G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

We spent Father’s Day morning at our son’s church, where he is the worship pastor. Grant read the quote from G.K. Chesterton before introducing a new song—

Somehow it never gets old telling You You're holy

Somehow it never gets old telling You You're lovely

Somehow it never gets old telling You You're worthy

For as long as I live, I'll never get tired of giving You praise*…

Kyle and I have been humming that song all week. But it was the quote that really wrecked me. 

“Do it again…”

Maybe it was my son leading worship and his daddy in the chair next to mine. Maybe it was thinking about my grandkids and all the ways they’re wired to do it again

And again

And again. 

Tossing one more baseball. 

Pretending the same silly story. 

Searching the closets for the same retro toys. 

Maybe, too, it was the daisies. The day before Father’s Day my son and his family joined us at the lake, and we’d said, “Maisy rhymes with daisy, and daisies are Nana’s favorite flower.” 

I have daisies growing wild in my ditch, and my kitchen is dressed with tiny bouquets.

Or maybe I just needed permission right then. This week. That very morning. To let it all go and be a child again. 

I’ve been in a weird headspace. Hard to put my finger on exactly what’s happening. A battle between flesh and Spirit. Strange and annoying. Actually annoyance might be the defining feature. 

I recognize the signs. I know the red flags. The blinking lights on my dashboard. 

“The flesh is easily offended. The Spirit loves.” 

My litmus test, and I’m very aware. 

Annoyance. Offense. Irritation. 

This morning I’m reading from Paul, and it’s right there, like a neon billboard: 

Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy, is not boastful, is not arrogant, is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not irritable, and does not keep a record of wrongs. Love finds no joy in unrighteousness but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) 

I have been irritable. Not sure if it’s the weather, or hormones, or too much caffeine. In a conversation over the weekend I said out loud I might give up coffee. Gasp. 

So there you go. But whatever’s going on, this quote was like medicine. Like a long draught of cool water on a steamy summer day. 

Just. Exactly. What I needed. 

This wonderful reminder. Eternal appetite of infancy. Vitality of a child. 

Years ago there was a Lifesavers commercial. A father and son. And the setting sun. Of all the gazillions of marketing ads I’ve taken in over the course of a lifetime, this one makes the very short list of those I actually remember. I wonder if the producer might have been reading Chesterton? 

I live in a place where we can and do watch God do it again and again and again. And it never gets old. For real. I still press pause on evening tasks when the sun sets red over evening waters. I still get distracted when eagles fly over. I still feel the thrill of every changing season. I still love daisies.

I read something this week about “Two Books Theology.” It was an intriguing article about how the Desert Fathers looked to both Scripture and Nature for God’s revelation. 

The heavens declare the glory of God,

and the expanse proclaims the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour out speech;

night after night they communicate knowledge.

There is no speech; there are no words;

their voice is not heard.

Their message has gone out to the whole earth,

and their words to the ends of the world.

Psalm 19:1-4

We forget this, sometimes. 

Because...I have sinned and grown old…that’s what. 

But God doesn’t care. He is strong enough—young enough—to exult in monotony.

“Do it again, Dad. Do it again.” 

*Song lyrics from Never Gets Old by Red Rocks Worship