I love my dad. He’s smart and kind and honest and — brilliant.
‘You take after me,’ he says. I smile; but I don’t believe it.
I thought you knew me better than anyone, dad. Why don’t you see it? How can you get me so wrong?
I’m not the girl he thinks I am.
‘Take heart,’ he says, but I’m scared.
‘Rest,’ he says, but I run.
‘It’s OK to be you,’ he says, yet I pull on a mask.
‘You have what you need,’ he says, yet I chase after lies.
‘You’re forgiven,’ he says, but I punish myself.
‘You’re loved,’ he says, but I steal myself from him.
‘You’re gifted,’ he says, but I steal myself from others.
‘You’re free’, he says, but I daren’t spread my wings.
‘You’re a blessing,’ he says, but I’m too ashamed to shine.
‘You delight me,’ he says, but I’m sure he means ‘disgust.’
God’s words versus mine. But Faith says ‘I am not my feelings.” Faith says, “Let it be to me according to Your word!” (Luke 1:38).
My words are weapons that pierce and that scar. But God’s word is a shield, a refuge and a fortress.
My words shout and accuse. But God’s words speak louder still. They silence my fears and my failures. They remind me, what is greater — the shortcomings of a child or the all-sufficiency of an Almighty Father?
Our Father knows the worst and best of us; all that we have done, and all that we will do. Whatever we face, He walks with us. Whatever we feel, He is faithful, loving and true.
We can trust the words of our Father.