I don't think it is supposed to apply to super great, award-winning pouting sessions and tantrums. You know, the kind regularly exhibited in the grocery store line when the child in front just ahead has received the fifth "NO!" to the request for candy.
I pout too much.
Why do I think anyone owes me anything! Why do I think God should make a bumpless road for me to walk! How can I be reading my Bible and think my life should be different from anyone else's life! Who do I think I am! And why don't I choose to remember that God has given me all that I need! Why do I turn inward, emotional arms wrapped defensively and tightly around the very heart that claims to trust God!
I resist maturity at almost every turn.
I am re-reading The Chronicles of Narnia. Aslan sometimes purrs, sometimes growls, sometimes roars to get the attention of the pouter, tantrum-thrower and miscreant. He sometimes corrects with a look, sometimes with a word, sometimes with a swipe of His paw. As Mr. Beaver said, "Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn't safe! But he's good, I tell you!" Aslan's growl was always followed by words of disappointment, correction, forgiveness and a nuzzle in the great furry mane.
If you see me pouting, remind me that "Aslan" is just around the corner.I'd prefer not to hear the growl, not to disappoint God. I'd prefer to train myself to think that whatever lack or ill or bump in the road that has me pouting and throwing my hissy-fit was meant to drive me deep into His furr.