Teaching at the tropic island of Rarotonga’s Takamoa Theological College, is a call to rise to the challenge. Daily terrorized by a chorus of crowing roosters, a relentless armada of ants, and enduring nightly air-raids of mosquitos, proves no match for coping with the raucous cadre of neighboring children. My guest lecturer quarters sit adjacent to my students and their families...their large families.
In an attempt to bring cordiality and grace, I treat the junior set with kindness. I become their foreign friend, engaging in polite banter and even bestowing small Hawaiian trinkets. They find me quite an approachable novelty. But you know kids, give them an inch (or millimeter, as the case may be) and they will take a mile ... make that kilometer. They begin hanging out just outside my front door, even attempting to encroach inside my quarters, on occasion.
While attempting to study and review my lectures, the noise became too much. I poked my head outside and brusquely reprimanded, “You kids, you’re making too much noise! Beat it! Scram. Hit the road. Buzz off. Aloha. Good-by!” Then, to soften the blow (lest we have an international incident), I supplement with, “You see, I can be tough. I’m not only nice, but I’m a tough guy.”
One diminutive rascal with darting brown eyes instinctively fired back, “Are you tough?” “You’re not tougher than my Dad!”
Catch that. Little ones in a big world inevitably resort to the timeless retort, “You’re not tougher than my Dad.” Therein lies the secret to their security and confidence to live large. {As a side note, how sad for a little one with no Dad. But that’s a sermon for another day.}
You and I face a world that is not friendly or for the feint of heart. Life is not for wimps. Fact is, we will meet bullies bigger than us. But now catch this, and catch it with two hands; nothing and no one is tougher than our Father.