the entertainer.

We only hear Scott Joplin's jangle through our neighborhood in the summer time. Do you know that tune? Oh how I love that song! Joplin wrote that rag time winner in 1902, and it was revived in the 1970's when the movie The Sting hit the big screen. When or why it became an ice cream truck tune, I have no idea. But it works. The ice cream truck will round the corner and on cue the music begins to play loud and long -over every vacuum cleaner, dish-washer, and game of freeze tag. That truck begins to play "come get ice cream" to the wordless tune of The Entertainer and the kids and moms come running.

My children could "bum. bum. bumbumbumbumbumbumb" it out when they were too tiny to finish their own ice cream cone. The moment they would hear that happy summer song they were bursting with all the energy and hopeful expectancy that ice cream on a stick can bring. But it wasn't just about the ice cream. There's something about that truck coming down the street to bring it to them that changes everything. Maybe it's just that a moment of sweet pleasure was coming their way, and they had not even realized they wanted it. Maybe they did realize they wanted it, and maybe they were even thinkin' about it, listening for it, and THEN there it was. Maybe this truck and frozen treat gig is a thrill because they get to beg for what they see everyone else receiving, and then get to see the power of their petitions when we say, "Yes". Maybe the excitement is because they get to hold their dollar, pick out what they want and actually pay for it. Or maybe all of the big fuss about the ice cream truck is simply because there is a guy in this town who brings ice cream to the tune of the "Entertainer" in sweet days of summa time.

Whatever the reason, my kids love to hear that song because they love what it means for them, at least what it means for them...some of the time.

I could go broke if I said "yes" every time that guy came driving down our street. He comes often, and it's as if he knows just when the neighborhood kids will be salivating and longing for it, and the moms will be tired enough to give in. I kid you not! His timing is impeccable. He even knows when the grandparents are over, because they never say "no". I, however, do - and have said, "no" enough times for my children to realize that the song doesn't automatically guarantee a prize.

Just recently I was fixing dinner while the kids were outside playing with their friends. It was a gorgeous fall day. I should have known that ice cream truck was fueling up and getting ready to rock my change purse one more time. Well, I don't have a change purse - it's more like a junk drawer with loose change thrown in it - but the latter sounds prettier. ANYWAY, while I was cooking I was talking to my friend about the book of Mark. We have been reading it with our small group at Vintage. (www.vintagetruth.com)

In the gospel of Mark, Jesus walked from town to town healing people, raising people from the dead, and casting out demons. While I read, I would just sit and try to understand or conceptualize what this must have been like. What I would give for Jesus to come and touch my own children, my niece - my brother! He has not granted my request for healing, and so as I hope in Him, I can't help wonder what it took to move the hand of God to heal.

My friend sat listening to me "process", as she often does. Which is wise, and kind - because for so many of my rantings there is no answer, just the need for a heart to sit with me and realize that I cannot know everything about our God, and I don't need to know everything.

However, as this conversation - or rather monologue - was taking place, that song began to play. The front door was open so the autumn breeze could blow through my warm kitchen, and so I heard it loud and clear. And then the next thing I heard was my son. The screen door opened and slammed while the song played on to his words and actions.

"Mommy! The ice cream truck!" he yelled out.

"I know, Son. I hear it."

"Can I have some ice cream?" he asked.

"No, Son. Not this time." I answered.

"But this might be the last time," he whined.

"Not necessarily. You don't know that," I replied.

"But it MIGHT be. Then it won't come around again until next year," he realized.

"You don't know that. It could be coming back sooner than you think, Kaden."

"But, Mommy!"

"Son, I have dessert for you. A great dessert treat. We're having a cookie cake later."

"So, I could get THIS, too, and save it for another time."

"Kaden, I do not support the ice cream truck."

And with that last response, my heart ceased, and I latched on to my thoughts. It was as if I heard my own Father's Word to me over my own insistence. I beg for what seems like so much sense, never realizing that He may have something else in store that is better and more delicious than what the ice cream truck could ever deliver.

"I am not in the business of supporting the ice cream truck, " kept repeating in my own mind. God is God. He is Creator, Provider, and Shepherd; He is my Banner, the Lord of Hosts, and the Self-Existent One. He is the Lord our Righteousness, our Peace; The God Who Sees ME and You, He is the God most High, The Lord, and YES, He is a healer, but for His purposes. Healing and any other miracle of His nature came when it did to those people, including salvation, for the purposes of God, and this most certainly was their good. For His purposes Jesus walked among those people in flesh. And for His purposes He does not come walking down my street right now - nor does he deliver everything that I am asking Him to bring our way - no matter how good it seems to be to me. His plan is for my good, for my family's good, and it can only be better.

I had to set the spoon down as I stood in front of the sausage filled pan that I was stirring. With tears in my eyes, I just looked at my friend, because I think she heard and knew - what I just heard, and realized. I said to her, in total awe - while my son waited for my final reply, "These words were for me to hear, not him."

"No, is my final answer, son," I replied with a huge smile on my face. "We will have dessert later, and you will love it." He walked out the door very disappointed.

I felt bad that he could not find joy in what was in store for him. I felt bad that he did not trust that I was caring for him even in that moment, but I knew he would enjoy that cake later, and I knew one day - he would understand why I do not support the ice cream truck. I am for him, no matter what he thinks in the moment. One day, I pray he realizes just how very much so.

God is not in the business of supporting one aspect of His nature for my pleasure. He is not in the business of "supporting the ice cream truck" for my benefit. And what I see, and hear, and realize is His nature, is in itself a gift. I get to know God! So when the music plays on before me of people being healed, and their loved ones saved from evil, the dead walking, and hungry fed, I will not lament what is not mine. Because He is. Jesus is mine, and He is my God. I lack no good thing. Not one.

"And the whole city had gathered at the door. And He healed many who were ill with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and He was not permitting the demons to speak, because they knew who He was. In the early morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house, and went away to a secluded place, and was praying there. Simon and his companions searched for Him; they found Him and said to Him, 'Everyone is looking for You.' He said to them,

'Let us go somewhere else to the towns nearby, sot that I may preach there also; for THAT is what I came for.'" Mark 1:33-38