In the living room of my childhood home sat a burgundy coloured Lazy Boy chair. The chair was upholstered in Naugahyde, a vinyl coated fabric that looked like leather. It was unlike any other piece of furniture in the room.
This special chair belonged to my father. As a child, I enjoyed the smooth texture and imposing size of this chair. I felt very grown up sitting in it. I knew, however, that it was not my chair and would vacate it in a hurry if I heard my father drawing near.
As I was reminiscing about this an even more important chair came to mind. It was the chair or throne of my heavenly father. I know this is not my place to sit but sometimes I can’t resist the urge to picture myself there. From this lofty perch, I attempt to rule my life. After all, don’t I know what’s best for me?
The simple answer to that question is, “No.” God is the one who knows the beginning from the end. He knows the plans that have been laid out for my life and the best way to achieve them. I tend to make a mess of things when I think I can handle life on my own. Fortunately, God can turn my mistakes into good – but only if I hand control back to him. These times serve as a good reminder that I am not God and shouldn’t be climbing up into his chair.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV)
2 thoughts on “My Father’s Chair”
Perfect analogy, Tandy!
Thanks, Eleanor. I’m glad you liked it.
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