"But I don't want to unfold it," I protested. "I don't want to spoil it."
"You can always refold it again," Ben coaxed. "Go ahead, unfold the crane."
Nine months ago, Benjamin and I sat at the kitchen table folding colorful paper cranes for decorations for a going-away party for my daughter/his twin, Martha. Martha and her little family were moving to Japan. Folding, creasing, mashing, tugging - amazing how stress transformed red and yellow and orange squares into beautiful tiny birds. But that was nine months ago.
"What if I can't remember how to refold it?"
"Then I will help you."
This crane is made of regular white printer paper, instead of colorful origami paper. Ben wrote a Scripture passage on each wing, in tiny black print.
On the crane's left wing: "I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. 'Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?' Therefore, I have declared that which I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. 'Hear now, and I will speak; I will ask you and you will instruct me.' I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear; but now my eyes see you; therefore I retract, and I repent in dust and ashes." Job 42:2-6
On the crane's right wing: "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." Ephesians 2:8-10
In my last post (What Do I Do With the Hurt?), I shared this insight from the large-group leader of the weekly Romans study I attend: "God's perfect wisdom and his plans are above our understanding. Thankfully, we do not need to understand everything in order to trust the God who does."
Funny thing is, while I was preparing for last week's Romans study, I spent a great deal of time meditating on Job's response to God in the face of his own trials. Over and over again, I read through Job 42:2-6...the very same verses Ben had, by some whim, written on the paper crane.
Last week, I also spent a chunk of time considering how God's good work for me and in me and through me are all His work, all for the purpose of His own pleasure and glory. Grace, faith, salvation, even the "good works" that I struggle to do as I live out this faith on planet Earth, these are all gifts from God.
In response to Romans 11:35 - "Or who has given a gift to him [God] that he might be repaid?" - our study notes asked: "What do we have that we can give to God?" The point of the question was: what do we possess, in and of ourselves, that we can give to God, that we did not first receive from God?
One of my classmates answered: "Worship. We give God worship."
"But even that - even our praise and worship - we can only give those things to God because He has first revealed himself to us and has planted praise and worship in our hearts!" I insisted. "In a sense, we don't give God worship or praise; we don't give God anything, because apart from Him, we have nothing. We only give back what God himself has already given us."
Sort of like that verse on the crane's right wing, from Ephesians 2.
My son does not know what I am studying each week in the book of Romans. He does not know the musings of my heart, or the verses I mull over in my head.
But, God knows.
Last week, God prompted Ben to make a little paper crane to tuck into the letter he wrote to his mother. And God prompted Ben to write on the crane's wings His words - God's words - I guess to make sure that I know that He knows the concerns of my heart.
The verses penned on the wings of the crane were timely, precise encouragement. I did not want to waste the labor, to undo the creasing and folding and mashing. I did not want to lose those precious verses. I explained all of this to Benjamin.
My sweet son laughed. "Go ahead. Unfold the crane." His eyes gleamed.
So I unmade the crane.
And I discovered...
Hidden inside the stiff, printer-paper, ink-stained crane, was another crane - so tiny and delicate, no bigger than my thumbnail, clean and white, unstained, like something new born.
It was so beautiful that my heart felt like it was about to burst. GOD IS SO GOOD to me!
Ben had no idea what was in my head and in my heart last week. But God did.
I admired the tiny crane for a minute, then turned to my son. "Will you help me now?"
"Yes," Ben smiled.
Together, very carefully, we folded the sturdy Word-of-God paper around the beautiful, fragile secret hidden inside.
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