We can probably all recall someone who, when we were children, impressed us as being "larger than life" - a parent or grandparent, a teacher or a pastor, a hometown hero or celebrity - someone who stood out like a giant in our childhood world.
Over the years, as we grow older and wiser and physically larger ourselves, those giants tend to shrink, little by little, until we find that rather than looking up at these towering figures - the grandparent or teacher or star athlete - we are now, oddly enough, looking them in the eyes. We continue to respect and revere these people in a special way, but we also understand, as we enter the fellowship of Tall People, that, rather than giants, they are actually simply humans and not so very much unlike ourselves.
And then there are those extremely rare people who - when you have reached your full adult height, when you have learned to think and act like an adult instead of a child, when you realize that you stand shoulder-to-shoulder with so many who once loomed large on your childhood landscape - there are those few - maybe only one or two - who still tower like giants, who, instead of shrinking over time, grow even larger.
Those rare people who are giants...not because of their physical stature and might, but because of an inner strength evidenced even in physical brokenness, not because of their unwavering faith but because of childlike dependence on One they know is faithful, not because they feel no fear, but because they endeavor to walk through their fear clinging to the promises of Him who tells us to "Fear not."
I hear people around me talking about a highly-decorated WWII veteran, a war hero. I hear them talking about a successful farmer and businessman. I hear them talking about a passionate apologist and staunch Calvinist. I hear them talking about a man with strong opinions and an indomitable will - yes, I have felt the iron rod of that will!
But I keep thinking...
About a tiny girl, hugging a pants leg for comfort and support, and looking up...miles and miles and miles up...into the eyes of a giant...
Not the brown eyes of my own giant, Pap...oops! wrong leg! again!...but into the bright blue eyes of "my other Pap"...
...and for fifty-two years now, whenever I have looked into those blue eyes - whether he was smiling or frowning, whether we were laughing or butting heads (it is a very scary thing to butt heads with a giant) - for as long as I can remember, whenever I have looked into those eyes, they have assured me beyond a shadow of a doubt that...
I am loved.
God is faithful.
And there are Giants in the land.
found an old poem from baby felix
3 weeks ago