One of the weird and interesting parts of parenting is how many lessons I learn in mundane things. I was changing Maia last week for the umpteenth time (can anyone actually keep track of the number of diapers they’ve changed? Thanks mum and dad. Serious. Thanks!) and I noticed that she’s barely fitting on the changing table now. I looked at her, from head to toe, lying there still for once – which meant I wasn’t fighting with her to keep her from grabbing the diaper, soiled with one or both numbers, from under her so that she could “explore” it – and it dawned on me how much she has grown.
I’ve found myself looking at her down on the ground stretching up to me or to Sam and thinking thoughts like “Boy, she’s small.” And “shouldn’t she be a bit taller than that by now?” And “has she grown in the last few months?” It’s a problem of proximity. Because I see her everyday it’s hard to look at her and recognize progress in terms of height. She looks very much the same. Other people, every now and then, comment that something or the other has changed, and I shrug and take their word for it.
But viewing her through the lense of the changing table – now I want to point out that I could go in a lot of directions from here. I’ve already started the “seeing” Maia through the changing table” metaphor. I could do the whole “un-changing changing table” thing. Temptation acknowledged. Choice of metaphor and style of expression aside, I finally was able to recognize how much taller she was. I vividly remember putting her on that changing table when she was a few weeks old – partially because one of her godmother’s was cautioning me about doing something wrong. I remember the fact that it didn’t matter that much whether her head was close to the top or in the middle of the pad. She would fit with so much room anyway. She’s much taller than she was then. I know it sounds obvious, but there’s a difference between accepting a fact because it must be so, and seeing it. The seeing does something that the accepting can’t. You marvel at things when you can see things for yourself.
So the lesson I had in mind when I started this post was about the way faith grows slowly and imperceptibly, much like Maia. I am so close to my faith, carrying it each day, impatient with it and often looking down on it, that I can’t see if it’s growing. It takes some reference point, some object to give a vantage point from which I can compare what it was to what it is, for me to see it’s growth. And that’s what tests are for. And I’m going through my fair share. Tests… much too nice a word for how they feel. Trials carries a bit more weight for me. Tribulations is chock-full of King Jamesy substantiveness and emotion. Tests definitely is too lightweight.
So I see much better through the changing table what Peter is saying when he says:-
“…now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” 1 Peter 1:6b-7
This hard slog is necessary if my faith is going to be shown to be genuine and is going to be shown to be growing, so that Jesus gets all the accolades he deserves.
The lesson I didn’t have in mind is how faith allows you to see. You can be handling the same facts and information and it’s not doing anything much for you or in you until, by faith, you see it – you’re convinced of it in a way you weren’t and you’re enthralled by it. And it barely makes sense, because all of the pieces were right in front of you, but you didn’t see it. I think that’s how faith naturally results in worship – which in itself seems to be inexplicable to those who can’t see it.
So to all the Saints – hold on in faith. This ride will be over before we know it and we’ll be home and happy.

