Sometimes my daughters let me sleep in, while they get themselves breakfast (and make a mess in the process), and then, as I slowly wake up, I overhear strange conversations between them at the breakfast table. This one’s from this morning:

Annalise (3yrs): <laughing to herself about something, probably a game she’s found to play with her fingers, or a story she’s telling herself in her head>

Claire (6yrs): <Doesn’t understand why Annalise can be so happy sometimes, and hence, feels a little threatened by it> Annalise, are you afraid of ANYTHING?

Annalise: <answers with complete confidence> No.

Claire: Are you even afraid of GOD?

Annalise: No. I love God.

Claire: <takes on an authoritative, teacherly, and you’re-in-trouble voice> Annalise, did you know the Bible says you’re supposed to be afraid of God? That means you’re BAD.

Annalise: What? Why should I be afraid of God? <worried tone>

Claire: <lowers her voice, making it sound ominous> He could make the entire world DISAPPEAR if He wanted to. That’s why!

Annalise: <begins to cry>

Claire: That’s why you can’t just be happy all the time. <satisfied>

Annalise: <still crying, runs to my room, jumps in bed, cuddles up close with worried expression on her face, and looks into my eyes> Mommy, Claire says God’s BAD. But…..   ! <cries more>

Me: Oh, sweet girl! God’s not bad. He loves you so much! <now I’m feeling frustrated with Claire, because I know she knows what “fear of God” really means, and that she’s twisted the meaning to make Annalise afraid>

Then a long, but important, theological discussion transpires, with Annalise first, and then Claire, about God. About what the different meanings of “fear of God” might be, and which ones make sense for a loving God. Thus, the day begins.