Chronicles of Sadie

The “With Me” Sandwich


I couldn’t believe how considerate she was!  You don’t know—scratch that—you can’t know what kind of night she had just endured.

Sidebar. Sadie has been a perfect angel—well, mostly a perfect angel. Yesterday, she decided to snooze the day away, despite the most valiant of efforts from her Pops to keep her awake at times. It was just one of those days: a day that she decidedin all the independent spirit and gusto that a two-week old little girl can musterthat she was not going to stay on the right schedule under any circumstances. Add an adorable, heart-melting headband to those heavy little blue eyes and you’ve got a recipe for—well, whatever she wants.

Back to the considerate part of the story. Today I was slated to leave with my youth group for the National Fine Arts Festival in Charlotte, North Carolina. We were supposed to depart at about 12:30 p.m. Unfortunately, the only driver with a commercial driver’s license I could secure for this particular nine-hour road trip in a hot bus filled with thirty-five lovely teenagers was—you guessed it—me! Therefore, my incredibly considerate (not to mention incredibly beautiful) wife, Laura, insisted I sleep the whole night and not try to help with the middle of the night feedings.

Truth be told, I did wake up several times anyway. Once I even walked into Sadie’s room to check on her while Laura was sleeping, but don’t tell Laura. I did sleep more than usual, I suppose. And as I type this late at night from the hotel in Charlotte, I’m thankful that Laura put my sleep ahead of her own (something which, at the moment, she needs more of than me.) But that wasn’t the best part.

I met the day as I meet every Sunday: early. So early that I was useless to help Laura with Munchkin, who had been up much of the night still reeling from the previous day’s schedule mutiny. Yet when Laura arrived at church, she had somehow remembered amidst all the hullabaloo of the morning’s insanity that I had not made my sack lunch we were supposed to take on the bus ride. Low and behold, my enchanted spouse showed up at the church with a lunch prepared and packed just for me. Now that’s some wife!


The best part had to be the sandwich. It was not some sissy sandwich with just a few slices of meat in the middle. No sir, it was stacked high and deep with succulent turkey and mouthwatering ham—with cheese accenting the ensemble. It was delicious!

What makes a sandwich good?  Most red-blooded Americans would easily say “the meat.”  In fact, it’s what’s in between the bread that gives the sandwich its proper description. Ham sandwiches have ham. Turkey has turkey. Peanut butter and mustard sandwiches have—well, something God never intended us to eat. You get the point.

Thus we stumble upon some very interesting flavor profiles found in Psalm 46: 7-11 (NKJV).

The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge.  Selah.  Come, behold the works of the LORD, Who has made desolations in the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two; He burns the chariot in the fire.  Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!  The LORD of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge.  Selah. 

Verse 7 hammers home the idea that God is with us—that he is close and not far away. But then, like the abrupt change one feels when their teeth pass through the outer layers of bread and encounter the hearty core of the sandwich’s epicenter, the taste of this verse changes. “Come, behold the works of the LORD, Who has made desolations in the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two; He burns the chariot in the fire.”

Ay caramba!  God makes desolations in the earth?!  Is that really someone I want near to me?  Sounds a bit dangerous. But then the Psalmist describes the object of God’s destruction: the warring plans of man. He makes them cease and destroys their weapons with the might of his power. God breathes. It all stops. End of story.

So just like that ever-so-considerate sandwich I enjoyed on the bus today, this passage has meat as well. Sure God is with us, but understand that at the epicenter of the universe, his will eclipses all. End of story. Add verse 11 as the other piece of bread (God is with us again,) and you complete the “with me” sandwich.

There is something mysterious about the spiritual balance of God’s power and God’s grace. We are told to tremble, yet to also approach him with boldness. To fall down before him, yet also lift our eyes towards him. To call out his name, yet also “be still” and just know that he is God. Aren’t these conflicting ideologies about God?  No, actually they are what makes a relationship with him so delectable. He is with me, yet the “meat” of his power could wipe the universe clean with one felled swoop. His sneeze would displace the ocean, yet the space around me in this room is filled with Him.

Apparently, Laura’s not the only one who’s considerate enough to make me a sandwich with good meat in the middle. As a new father, that sandwich made a difference in me. I pray it does for you too—and that you become completely encrusted with the realization that though he is powerful, he is also near. Like any child, the strength of your father should bring you more peace than intimidation, fear, or insecurity. You are not the object of his wrath. You are what he is protecting.

Now that is some good eating!