I took my son and his friend skiing on a special skip school snow day. It was a nice day and the crowds were pretty light, so we were able to get a lot of runs in before lunch. While we were on the lift, my son sitting in the middle between me and his friend looks up at me and ask if I have any food. “I have one Cliff Bar, but it is getting close to lunch, so why don’t we go eat after this run?” “That sounds good,” he says.
Then after a short period of silence he speaks up again. “Dad,” he begins, “if we were on a deserted island and you had to choose one of us to give the Cliff Bar to and the one you didn’t give it to would die, who would you give it to?”
Dang boy. Here I am trying to have a nice day skiing and you’re making me choose between the death of one young boy and my only son.
Well, it is a hell of a question and I had to give him an answer. We were about half way up the ski lift, so I had maybe three minutes to form an articulate answer for two eleven-year-olds. My son’s friend looked over at me with a concerned face, as if he would never make it off of this ski lift alive. “Son, if I had one Cliff Bar and the one who I gave it to would live, then I would give it to your friend.” I tell him.
“WHAT!!!???” he yells, “I’m your only son!”
We are nearing the top, so I quickly explain my logic. “We will eventually get off the island and I will have to face your friend’s parents again. I could not in tell them that I willingly let their son die. Then,” I continue, “your friend would know that you died to save his life and he might live the rest of his life with some higher meaning. Maybe he would become a great doctor someday.” Finally the top, “skis up,” I tell them and we are down the hill once again.
On the ride home, this existential question keeps tumbling over and over in my head. I am pleased that my son would be thinking about hard questions. But I did not tell him the whole truth.
After dropping his friend off, we unload our skis and start pealing off our ski clothes. “Son,” I say “Sit down for a second, I need to talk to you.” As he sits down, he looks at me with the ‘oh-no I’m in trouble face’, I begin unfolding the whole truth. “I could not tell you the whole truth, because your friend was sitting right there.” I begin, “Now, it is very important that you understand one thing before I give you my whole answer; our Lord Jesus Christ made it very explicit that we should not judge one another’s salvation.”
“What does explicit mean?” he asks me.
“It means that he wants us to know it without a doubt and be crystal clear.” I respond and then continue. “I am not making any judgments on your friends salvation, but I know without a doubt that you are saved and if you were to die today, I would see you again in heaven. I do not know that about your friend and if your death bought him more time to come to know Jesus, then that is a cost we as Christians must be willing to accept. I would be very sad, but I would see you again.” He looks at me with a bit of understanding. So, I continue.
“There is another reason as well. You are only eleven years old” I say, “and to live a life of any real meaning in eleven years is a very hard thing to accomplish. But Christ tells us that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for your neighbor. By making the choice for your friend, then I am in fact giving your life the greatest of meaning, by you showing your friend the greatest of love. Do you understand and understand why I could not give you my whole answer?” I ask him.
“Yeah, that makes sense” He says. “Dad, are you crying?”
Come on man!!! Cut your old man a break.
Dad Devotional 