When God Is a Lot Like the Parent of a Teenager

Two days ago I sat in my car in the parking lot of the local nursery. It was cold and gray out. The plastic of the greenhouse flapped noisily in the wind, making me grateful for the warm rush of heat that blew from the dashboard vents as the engine idled.

I was waiting for my son, Noah, who was inside the greenhouse having his first-ever job interview. We’d prepped the night before. My husband had asked Noah some mock questions, and we’d reviewed the basics of Interviewing 101: firm handshak...