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by Chad Koons

“Bruce… you’re still here?!” I shouted with tears streaming down my face. This was a good day, though terribly traumatic. I lost a bit of childhood wonder that afternoon, but what I gained was far more valuable. Maybe Jesus wanted something that I just couldn’t give Him. Or maybe I was giving Him the wrong thing?

Let me back up. I was 5 years old when this happened, and I’d never be the same.

I was a skinny, bullied, but happy little kid with dimples and a bowl cut. There were only a few things in life that I truly cared about: my mom and dad, God, our black dog named “Brownie” (don’t ask), and Bruce. Not necessarily in that order, as sometimes Bruce would command a pretty strong first place. Who was Bruce? Bruce was my best friend, a homemade sock monkey stuffed with nylon stockings.

Our church had Vacation Bible School (VBS) every summer. My aunt Betty would pick me up for it. She was simply awesome. She had the kindest blue eyes, a loving smile, big blonde hair, and smelled like a million bucks. Like if Dolly Parton was your aunt, only better. I’d stand outside waiting for her, and sometimes Bruce would tag along, too. She’d stop at the end of our driveway and I’d hop in. “Ready to go, Chad?” she would say with a grin. “Weeee!” she would say, mashing the gas pedal and shooting us up the mountain like a 4-door rocket ship. Ah, the 80’s were a great time for me.

That particular year, VBS centered around a most profound theme: giving Jesus your best.

I remember sincerely struggling to understand the meaning of this. Whatever my “best” was, God wasn’t physically “there” to give anything to! And didn’t He already have everything?! I was beyond frustrated. This may have been the first time I’d grappled with making sense of an abstract idea. The Lord was drawing me even then, and if God wanted my best, then He’d get it. I prayed, saying “God, what is my best?” After thinking about it all week, I had come to some conclusions.
1. The best thing I had was my parents.
2. If I “gave” them to God, whatever that meant, then I’d have no one to take care of me!

What a horrible realization! This was a no-win situation. I remember specifically thinking, “Doesn’t He know that we need our parents?” And how would this work, would God show up and swoop them away or something?

God wasn’t explaining Himself. Thanks a lot, Jesus. You want my best, but you won’t talk to me about it. I decided to rethink this whole thing. Some days later, the most horrible revelation dawned upon me.

“Oh no... not this!” fear surging through my body. God didn’t want my parents; He wanted BRUCE!

Now this made me cry. What did Jesus want with a sock monkey?! I looked into Bruce’s button eyes, that tattered monkey who I’d never known life without, hugging him with.all my might while coming to terms with his soon to be departure. Come Saturday, I would do it. Bruce would be given to Jesus.

Saturday afternoon arrived. I trudged down our steps and into the front yard, Bruce in tow. I confessed to Bruce that we couldn’t be together anymore, that God wanted him for some reason and that he’d go live with Jesus now.

Being as strong as a 5-year-old could be, I relinquished Bruce, laying him upon the ground. I turned my back and walked away, closed my eyes and whimpered: “Take him, Jesus.” I broke down, waiting for something, anything to indicate that Jesus had come down to whisk Bruce away. But nothing happened. Unable to wait any longer, I turned my head and peeked… WHAT?! Bruce was still there! I ran to him, snatching him up with glee. Though my smile soon faded, I realized that maybe I hadn’t given Jesus enough time to get him. Maybe it was like Santa Claus, and He wouldn’t come if I was watching?

I offered Bruce for a second time. Much to my confusion, God just left him lay there again. This was becoming too much for me to handle. Was I doing something wrong? One last chance, I thought. There would be a final offering. Once more, Bruce found himself laid upon the ground, silently awaiting the return of Jesus to whisk him away. I turned my back and waited. How heart-broken I was, I remember looking skyward and shouting at the heavens, nothing made sense. Where was Jesus? He wanted my best and I was trying to give it! Come on, Lord, please just finish this already!

After giving the Lord ample of time to collect Bruce, the moment had come to face my fate. If Bruce was gone, then Jesus was happy with me. If Bruce was still there, then I would get to keep him. I slowly turned around. “Bruce?! You’re still here!” I shouted wildly, half blinded from the tears streaming down my face. I ran to him, snatched him up and just about squeezed his nylon stockings out! But something felt very wrong. I couldn’t understand why all of this had happened. I was left wondering, did Jesus want something that I was unable to give Him, or was I simply offering Him the wrong thing?

I must admit, sometimes I look at my life now and wonder if I’m still getting it all wrong.

To be clear, God doesn’t want our stuff. He lacks nothing, He does not have a need that we can fill.

I’m no longer offering sock monkeys, sadly it has gotten much worse than that. Instead, I’m offering Him the grown-up sort of wrong things, like my duty. That’s what He wants most, right? If God were to interrupt my life, if He were to literally appear while I’m simply being a husband, being a daddy, performing my ministry position, in my workday, or anywhere else… would I feel ashamed, knowing that I’m serving my duty over serving Him? I’ve become so good at living my Godly life that I could almost do it without God. This is absolutely bone chilling, nothing could be more terrifying.

Do you know what God wants? Please allow the gravity of this next statement to sink in: He wants “us.” Call it our heart, our life, whatever. You and I are the offering, bare, broken, and breathing. Every single moment is built upon this, dear readers, and it MUST begin there. Remove the sandals from your feet, approach Him as He made you, not upon your own inventions; you are standing upon holy ground. In Christ is our eternal launching point. Our work may be tremendously important, but our work is not the desired offering. You and I are the sacrifice. See Galatians 2:20-21 and Psalm 51:17. Remember how Adam walked with the Lord? I want this so deeply. To keep in step with the Spirit. Letting our work become an overflow of who we are as we daily walk with Him. In this way we give God what He actually wants, not what we think He wants. See Galatians 5:25 and Hebrews 11:26-27.

Jesus still doesn’t want my sock monkey, but He’ll always want me.

So, what about my old sock monkey Bruce? He’s still around. Full of holes and patches, but I can count on him to always smell and feel like home. I’m pretty sure he’ll always be around. Unless Jesus changes His mind and takes him after all…

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