Killing the Dragon

My 5-year-old son was doing it again, and I was at a loss for how to deal with it. He was lying to me, yet again, so that he wouldn’t get in trouble. I knew why he was doing it. In the past I have addressed his lying with physical consequences, lacking the wisdom to discern a more effective approach.

“What needs to happen now?” I asked him.

“You need to give me correction again.” His reply was bitter. I knew that I didn’t have his heart.

It was then that I heard the voice of the Holy Spirit correcting me through my conscience, telling me that I was neglecting to meet my son’s true needs. Lying was a heart issue, but I was not correcting and instructing him at the heart level. I immediately felt the conviction. I was aware of how I was being unloving, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next. How could I love my son in a way that would meet his true heart level needs?

Then a quiet voice reminded me of the postcard that hangs in my kitchen, a miniature replica of a famous painting by Raphael – and one of my personal favorites –Saint George and the Dragon. Like me, my 5-year-old son has always been drawn to that postcard.

I pulled my son close and pointed to the fighting knight. “Every time I look at this postcard, I see you right here. I see the courageous warrior that God created you to be. It does, after all, take a lot of courage to fight a dragon.”

My son looked up at me and said, “But that is the thing I don’t like about this picture, Mom. I don’t like that dragon because he is very ugly.”

“Yes, he is very ugly. When I look at that dragon, it reminds me of how hurtful and unloving it is when you tell me a lie. It reminds me of your flesh. Did you know that each time you tell me a lie, I can see your ugly dragon? When you hear your conscience reminding you in your heart to tell the truth, but you don’t obey, I can see your dragon then too.”

“Mommy, that is silly. I can’t see any dragon in me.”

Well, he may not have been able to recognize his own dragon, but I knew that he had seen a real dragon before. “Do you remember when I used to get very angry and I made you feel very scared?” I had his attention. He silently nodded his head, and I continued, “Do you remember how ugly that was to you and how much that hurt your heart?” With wide eyes, he nodded again.

“That’s because I wasn’t listening to my conscience. I wasn’t loving you like God wanted me to love you. You were seeing my dragon.” I paused and then said, “Your dragon does not look like mine, but it is just as ugly and it is just as hurtful.” Now he understood.

“There’s someone else in this painting too,” I continued. “Look right here at this woman. That’s me on my knees praying for you. You see, I love you even when your dragon hurts me. I am always here praying that you will listen to the Holy Spirit speaking to you through your conscience, showing you how to love. That is the only way to kill your dragon.”

My son scrunched up his face and started to cry. “Why are you crying?” I asked softly. His voice broke as he spoke, “Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Mommy.” This little boy in my arms was repenting from his heart, a heart that I had been struggling to reach for so long. I hadn’t done much. I had simply cooperated with the Holy Spirit‘s instruction to me. But it was through my obedience that my son was able to hear and receive the truth about the ugliness of his flesh and to respond to that conviction with repentance.

After a while, he looked back at the postcard. “Mom, do you really think that I will grow up to be like that man someday?” Then he turned, searching my face to see if my belief in him was genuine.

I smiled at him. “Don’t you see? You are fighting your dragon right now. You already are that brave warrior.” His eyes shone.  Yes, I believed in him; I believed in who God had created him to be.

And so I continue to pray. I pray for myself because I know that I cannot lead him where I have not already gone first. And I pray for him, that he will be able to not just control his dragon – his flesh – but that he will put it to death and be set free from it forever.

~ Christi Faagau