I've never been a big fan of the "counting method" in childcare. I mean no offense to anyone who uses it as a form of discipline (or threat of discipline, rather), but to me it's always seemed like permission for a child to misbehave for three, five or 10 more seconds. "You stop that tantrum! I'm going to count to three..."

No doubt I am a little biased because my parents never counted with us. It was first time or the highway. I think it stuck, for the most part. But Sunday morning I got to thinking about grown-up misbehavior and how God might view it.

Driving to church I was having nothing short of an adult tantrum. I was in a snit (for no good reason, of course) and I could feel my frown lines setting up camp around my mouth. It was not pretty. My tantrums don't look like a child's version — instead of loud yells and stamped-down feet it's a lot of eye rolling and abrupt conversation.

The worst part about an adult tantrum is that you know you shouldn't be having it and know you'd happier if you just let go. But it's easier said than done, and I thought about God looking on as this mood reared its ugly head. Is there any excuse at this point in my life not to stop immediately and fix my attitude? I think not. And I'm pretty sure he thinks not, as well.

So God isn't into "one, two, three." The only number I'm glad He IS into is 70 times 7!

1 comment:

Everyday Anne said...

Amen, sister!! I know exactly what you mean. My tantrums consist of sighs, abrupt conversation, and being less then gentle when I do something like slamming a pot down on the counter. I also tend to immediately go into house clean mode (if I'm home.) All that to say, yes we know better. And thank goodness we have a merciful Father!