I opened the door to children’s euphoric shrieks filling the
community center playplace; that familiar, deafening roar we moms grow
accustomed to shouting over like it’s no big thing…after all, it’s the only
socialization we get sometimes, so we’ll take it! I was there at the appointed
time to meet my kindergartener and his classmates for a Friday afternoon
playdate. However, I noticed right away something was amiss, as only a mom can
do with her God-given intuition: my own
child’s jovial screams were not part of the mix.
“Carson Bauer!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted
above the roar, looking upwards at the maze of tunnels, and waited. Nothing. His
little classmates were scurrying around the play structure like mice, but there
was no sign of my youngest.  I tried
again, this time louder. No son. Feeling hopeless, I started having flashbacks
of my firstborn getting stranded in the same structure several years ago, and
the drama that ensued. Oh mercy. I wasn’t up for a reenactment of that day! “Carson Baaaaa-uerrrrr!” I knew
I was making a scene, but something wasn’t right, so I ceased caring and
started canvasing the place as best I could from below.
Finally one of the other kids located him and called down to
us moms, who were squinting upwards, trying to spot my missing child. I could
just make out his little face through the netting, frozen in some sort of
contorted expression. My baby was in
I immediately went into mama swat team mode, and in my tall boots
and cute outfit, I snaked my way up the narrow passageway like Catherine
Zeta-Jones in the movie Entrapment, contorting
my body in ways I haven’t since childhood gymnastics class. Because when
someone we love is in trouble, we will stop at nothing to reach them—to rescue them.
Eventually I reached my poor boy, huddled in the fetal
position in a corner, pants wet and consequently mortified, crying and ALONE. My heart broke, wishing
I had been there earlier, that I had known. But I was there in that moment, and
mine was the face he had been longing to glimpse–all he needed to put his
little heart at ease. Comforting my son as best I could in the close quarters,
I hugged him to me and hauled his little balled up body out of there.
We have a Rescuer, too. And He will stop at nothing.
He is the Ultimate Rescuer. The all-powerful, ever sufficient
Rescuer who didn’t need a rescuer himself, even at the tender age of twelve,
when his parents stormed frantically into the temple, searching for their lost
son. But He was the Son. Jesus didn’t need rescuing. He was the One who had come to perform
the ultimate rescue–of lost, hopeless
There has never been, nor will there ever be a rescue more
dramatic, more redeeming, more life altering than that dark day on Calvary,
when our Savior, blameless and bleeding, hung to cover our sins ‘til the
curtain split, and it was FINISHED. He moved heaven and earth to rescue us, His
children, from our own undoing.
As I reflected on God as our Rescuer this week, He reminded
me of another time my little boy was in the fetal position, vulnerable and seemingly alone. (He tends to bring this
scene to my mind when I need a reminder of exactly WHO is in control around
here.) Five years ago, inside my womb, God sheltered and rescued my precious
baby from the class C (read: DANGEROUS) mood-stabilizing medication my doctor strongly
advised me to remain on during my pregnancy, to manage my depression and ensure
my mental health.
It was an excruciating decision, and though God faithfully
lead me through it, the recollection of those arduous 9 months humbles me every
time, as I tearfully reflect on what could have been, and yet was not, in God’s
providence. The chances were undeniable—the chemicals could have wrecked havoc
on my son’s tiny body, developing in my womb, cruelly sentencing him to a myriad
of deformities. However, (I’m eternally thankful for however!) Carson Kenneth emerged on his
birthday unscathed and perfect; to God be the glory! Since divinely healed from
my own affliction in 2010 (PRAISE HIM, once again!), I am amazed and humbled constantly
by mine, and my son’s Savior, and the
tender, faithful way He rescued my sweet boy.
One of my most dire missions as a mother, I feel, is to
drive the truth hard into my kids that God is ALWAYS with them. No matter what happens, no matter where they find themselves, no matter how
lonely the world may leave them. NO MATTER. He is there.
They will still have to endure the agonizing moments life
dishes up, courtesy of the fall: the shame, the loneliness, the pain, the
temporary separation from God that our sin brings upon us. But His Word assures
us He allows it all in love: to keep us dependent on Him; so He can come in and
scoop us up, hugging us close, rescuing us from our distress and thereby increasing
our faith. My prayer is that my children’s certainty in His presence with them would
be so solid that they would never for a moment doubt their security, nestled in
His mighty hands. HE is their Rescuer. And He is yours and mine, if only we
will have Him. Alleluia!!
Come to the River…
“I will rescue them from all the places where they were
scattered on a day of clouds and darkness.” Ezekiel 34:12 (NIV)
“So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the
Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land,
a land flowing with milk and honey….” Exodus 3:8 (NIV)
Settle into the blessed reality that you have a Rescuer. “Be
still, and know that [He is] God” Psalm 46:10 (NIV)…that you are safe in His
arms, plucked from the entangling briars of your sin.  

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