I met Bob & Claudia when I was 18. My closest friend, Craig & I had started attending a tiny country church in Topanga Canyon, California. We met Bob & Claudia and we became immediate family. They were typical South Californians - blond & blue, model-material, living in the Fast Lane - then Jesus changed their lives. Craig & I sort of "raised" them spiritually. They had a tough marriage like most young couples do. The birth of Eric Ryan Holst was an answer to long years of prayer and waiting.

I became Eric's Uncle Greg. I traveled a lot, so I saw Eric infrequently, but I saw him every chance I got. I loved him. I occasionally baby-sat when I was in town and Bob and Claudia were out. I carried him around the neighborhood, talked to him, prayed for him.

I guess every uncle wants to leave a special impression, so I was really excited about the first time I got to pull out my guitar and lullaby Eric to sleep. Bob and Claudia loved my songs. Unfortunately, when I began strumming and singing, Eric's eyes grew wide with horror and he began emitting a nuclear, atom-smashing, window-breaking scream and didn't stop until I'd slunk out of his nursery. Thinking perhaps he had a wet diaper, or that I had a piece of spinach hanging from my tooth, I tried again the next night. I discovered Eric had the ability to top his previous ability to scare neighborhood birds and break streetlights. Ah, music was not to be our common bond. But Jesus was - and is - as he now approaches young manhood. I'm proud of Eric. So are his folks.

No other time was their pride so evident to me as when I had visited many months after Eric's birth. Bob had this big "I ate a canary" grin on his face and said, "C'mere Greg. I wanna show you something." I sat on the couch as Bob retrieved Eric. He placed him on the opposite side of the room on his feet, came and sat by me and said, "Come on, Eric, walk." Eric contemplated Dad's words for a second, wobbling to and fro like a dinghy in a storm, and realizing his position, he did what any self-respecting toddler would do. He screamed and cried at the top of his lungs. (Honest - I wasn't singing!) Bob was unmoved. "Come on, son. Come to Dad! Walk, Eric!" Eric kept crying, Bob kept commanding. Finally, Eric figured out Dad wasn't going to come get him. If he wanted to be in Daddy's arms HE HAD TO WALK. So he did. A slow, teetering step at first, then another, then another, till he was in full tilt boogie on the way to Bob.

Bob grabbed him the last few steps (before he ate the carpet), picked him up and held him close. I looked over. Bob was crying. "I can't believe it, man!", he said, voice choking with emotion. "My SON." It was a holy, sacred moment.

My life took difficult turns after that. I faced rejection, loneliness, doubt and fear. It seemed I'd just get over one disaster when another unexpected devastation would lay me low. I didn't understand. "Why, God? I want to follow You, yet every time I try, I fail, and I can't feel Your love! WHY?"

God blesses many of us in the first days of our walk with Jesus. We feel His love richly. He speaks to us. If fact, young Christians annoy the snot out of us older ones, 'cause God seems to answer every one of their innocent, faith-filled prayers. He spoils them! Doesn't every parent spoil their newborn?

But then, we have to grow - and grow up. God, like Bob, withdraws Himself a little - not far enough to be out of sight, just far enough to scare the FIRE out of us! "Come on, little one", He says through our difficult times and trials. "Come to Me". We cry and scream. We can't FEEL Him! "Walk." "But it HURTS!" "Walk." "But I'm SCARED!" "Walk!" Soon, we understand; if He always held us, answered every prayer and let us feel Him every moment, we'd never grow, we'd never know faith in the dark, we'd never WALK.

If you asked Eric, he probably wouldn't even remember this incident, because the fear and pain of having to walk on his own became the new and exciting world of adventure walking gave him, and each new challenge in school, bike riding, and discipline, all with their own fears and uncertainty, gave way to becoming a strong, confident young man - and eventually, God willing, his father's son will become his father's friend. I don't think Eric would have preferred to stay in diapers.

God wants sons and daughters who will learn to walk, who will learn to follow Him, who will grow up and become full partners in His Eternal Workshop - and yes, to become His friends. Too many of us cannot walk unless we hear God, feel Him. I know full grown Christians who can think of nothing but signs, wonders and miracles. Now, I believe in the big SW & M. But the deepest growth doesn't happen in them. It happens in the ABSENCE of them, in the "dark night of the soul." Too many of us are diapered adults who cannot mature because we expect growth to be painless. It hurts, folks. But at the other side of this room of trial are Father's arms, already glistening with tears of pride knowing we're walking without support or big warm fuzzy feelings. We're learning to walk.

Let God set you on your two feet, and through the darkest of trials, follow Him. You may fall. Just get up and keep walking. The absence of His Presence isn't a sign of rejection but of TRUST. He knows you're ready. He knows you can handle it. Come to Him. Walk!

"What father isn't delighted with even the most halting of his child's first steps? What father would be content with anything less than the mature steps of a full-grown son?" - Unknown -