God Stays

Time out.

For persons of a certain generation, these are the most dreaded words. These are the words that meant that you had to stop what you were doing, go to some designated place all by yourself, be cut off from the rest of your world, and "think about what you've done." When you're ready to apologize, or when you're sufficiently remorseful, or whatever interpersonal-behavioral standard that has been set has been met, then you can come back into the fold and resume your place in the societal structure you were removed from. 

Then, of course, there are those of us from another certain generation who just got our butt busted and were told in no uncertain terms not to do that any more, and we didn't. Ever. 

But I digress. 

In the world of human parenthood (and teaching, as these techniques are often used in the classroom, as well), there is a certain sense of guilt that comes with punishment. That is, we feel guilty when we punish our kids. As a result, when the punishment is over, we do all kinds of things to try to make up for it. 

We have conversations, trying to make sure they don't hate mommy or daddy. We try to make sure they understand why we did what we did. We try to emphasize that they aren't bad kids; they just did something bad. We offer ice cream or toys or bonus screen time to try to make amends, to try to make sure we come out of this whole thing on their good side. (And in the process, completely negate whatever gains we might have made with the punishment in the first place. But...I digress.) 

It's because something innate in us knows that isolation is a terrible punishment. It's a terrible discipline. Cutting a person off from the entire social structure around them, even for five minutes, is, in a word, brutal. It cuts at the very deep core of who we are as beings-in-relationship. 

It's why God never leaves us, not even for a moment. 

Not even in punishment. Not even in discipline. Not even in exile or in guilt (Jeremiah 51:5). 

When Israel is in Egypt, God is in Egypt. When Israel is in Babylon, God is in Babylon. When Israel is wrestling with the storms and the famines and the diseases, God is in the storms and the famines and the diseases with them. When God's people need to sit on the sidelines for a minute, need to take space to calm down, need to be removed from the hustle and bustle for a bit, God is right there with them. 

Like taking your child aside, sitting down, and catching a breath. 

Removal, but not isolation. Time out, but not abandonment. Time to gather yourself, but not alone. 

Because how could He create us in His image - an image of constant relationship, an image based on love and connection - and then do anything to traumatize that very image in us? He can't. 

So God simply never leaves us. We are never isolated, abandoned, or alone. Even in exile. Even in punishment. Even in time out. 

He is always with us.