By Dr. John E. Morgan

Pastor–Collinsville Baptist Church

It was an epic contest.  A child against her parents.

It was over a crucial issue.  A glass of milk.  That needed to be emptied.   “Finish your milk.”  “No, I don’t want it.”

“That’s fine.  But you can’t have any dessert until you finish your milk.”  The little girl’s lip came out.  She hooded her eyes and stared at the table.  Lines were drawn.  She was not turning back.

I watched with amusement.  Remembering my childhood.  My parents grew up during the depression.   They knew what it was to be hungry.  I did not.  For them, wasting food was a terrible sin.  For me, the sin was some of the food they put in front of us.

Lots of yucky vegetables.  That a normal person could not have liked.  But my mother and daddy sure seemed to like them.  And they were sure we needed them. And that we would eat them.

And so my dining room table became the battleground.    I would quickly eat most meats and breads put in front of me (but not liver and not some other vile things).  Unlike the little girl, I loved milk.  But I had to carefully examine other foods.  Turnip greens.  Spinach.  Cole slaw.  I could stomach green beans some. And peas.  But not always.

We would sit around the table and eat.  I knew the battle was coming.  “You can’t get up until you have cleaned your plate.”  Yes, they sometimes mentioned children in China.  I never had the courage to suggest we ship my plate to them.  But I wanted to say it really bad.

I was left alone at the table.   I tried several things.  One was my theory that every glass of milk I drank equaled one vegetable I did not have to eat.  Over and over I tried this.  Even after my mother told me it wouldn’t work.

I tried packing the food down.  Put the peas on some mashed potatoes and squash them into a little pile.  That sometimes worked.  The master stroke that my little sister and I did -- put the family dog under the table.  Lady would eat anything.  That usually worked.  I also put food in my pockets.  That worked sometimes until mother washed the clothes.

It usually was a long wait at the table for me.  And then I would have to eat some of what was left.  “Take three bites and you can get up.”  My mother was unimpressed with my choking.  She just waited for the swallowing.  There was seldom dessert at stake.  But there was often a spanking promised.

So I smiled to myself watching the little girl.  She was bothered that her parents and a brother were enjoying their dessert.  Lip stuck out a little further.  Nothing happening with her parents.  They played things just right.

Finally, she swallowed her pride.  And swallowed her milk.  Immediately she said, “Can I have some ice cream?”  And she got it.  And ate it with a big smile.

It is really important that children eat and drink the right things.  Parents have to be sure that they do.  On their own, children would eat ice cream six times a day.  Parents can’t let that happen.

Much more importantly, children must learn to obey.  God gives them parents to teach them that there will be many times in life when they have to obey.  Even when they do not understand.  Or like it.

It prepares them to surrender to God.  And trust Him.  To swallow their pride.

Because God is God.  And knows what we need.  He has wonderful blessings for us.  When we trust and obey.