Never an afterthought

Something that has been wrecking me lately is the reality of being on the front of the Father’s mind. I have never been an afterthought. I have never been on the back burner. I was never a “screw-it-I’ll-give-her-a-chance” to Father. He has never once forgotten about me. He has never once wanted to exchange me for something better.

From the dawn of creation, He has had absolutely everything that you could imagine. He created everything that you could imagine to bring pleasure to anyone anywhere. He created the sun, moon, and stars. He knows the depth of the seas and the height of the skies. He dances on the clouds, and frolics through fields of wildflowers. He looks out over valleys from the heights of mountain peaks. He lays beside trickling springs and rumbling oceans. He has it all.

Yet,

He. Adopted. Me. 

I am His prized possession. I am the one whom he directs all His affection upon.

The way He purchased me gives proof to my value to Him. I wasn’t a flippant purchase.

He thought long and hard. Charts and graphs, pros and cons. He sorted through it all. He knew me fully. He examined my heart. He examined my nature. He knew my tendency to wander. He knew my weaknesses. And still he said, “I want her”. His choosing of me echoes. His delight over me ripples. He sings over me in my sleep; He dances over me in my wake.

He lavishes extravagant love on me. Forever. There’s nothing that I can do to convince Him to return me to my former state. There’s nothing that I can do to convince Him that I am not worthy. He has never once regretted purchasing me with the precious blood of Jesus. I have never depreciated in value. I have never been a burden to Him. He is wildly obsessed with me.

I. 

Delight. 

My. 

Maker. 

And so do you.

Boxes, Houses, and Castles: A Home fit for a King

I've placed you in perfectly ordered boxes. 

Each one labeled distinctly on it's side. 

I know what goes where and when it expires.

Well,

Sort of.

I have your ordered in a way that makes sense.
The You that is loving is right next to the You that is kind.
The You that is good is stacked on top of the You that is called Dad.
The part that is merciful is next to the box that knows my weaknesses.
Your grace is right next to your expectations of me.
Your will is stacked on top of surrender.
Your justice is overlapping your seeing of evil.

But then things get hairy.
Your holiness spews over.
Your jealousy is causing the walls of this castle to tremble.
Your anger is too close to your delight.
I can't make your fire stop burning away chaff.
You wound the ones you love.

The boxes are labeled as fragile, but really there's nothing fragile about you.
It is I who is fragile.
My ideology.
My theology.
My wish-ology.
That is what is fragile.
You don't fit into my preconceived ideas about who you are supposed to be.

So I build a bigger enclosure for you.
One that will make you look more homey
One that will hold a Dad like you.
I build you a House.

It has a roof.
Windows and a door.
I even add a picture on the wall just for you.

I invite you inside to meet with me there.
To share a cup of tea.
Maybe bake some cookies.
Then dance in front of the fireplace with your daughter.

But soon I realize that while you are a dad,
You are also a King.

A holy, passionate, King.

So I tear down the house and I build you a castle.

This castle is fit for a King indeed.
You have plenty of space to pace as you ponder your decrees.
You can sit in your throne.
You can prop up your feet.
You can look out over the kingdom and hear the peoples praise.

I have finally built something that you will love.
I have finally built you a home.

But you.
You walk through the walls.
Your glory all around you.
Your power spilling over.
Your love like an ocean.
Your passion like a wildfire.

You waltz out of the castle I built for you.
Instead, you begin to build.
You begin to build a dwelling place that is fitting for you,
God, Dad, and King.

I see you building.
I see a coffee shop.
I see a laptop.
I see a chair up next to the bar.

What I see next, surprises me the most.
It's not a box you a building.
It's not a house,
Or a or a kingdom with a castle.

What you are so intently building is me.
I see you smile.
I see love flood your eyes.
I see joy fill your face.
The place you feel most at home in,
The home in which you love to dwell,
Is me.

I am your favorite place.

I am the one you created to hold your glory.
I am the one you long to set up camp in.
You plant your roots deep inside me.

Yes, you are God.
Yes, you are Dad.
Yes, you are King.

And yes, you are Friend.



Come and dwell in the center of my heart.
Make yourself at home in me.

Wet kisses

I have many favorite bible passages, but my favorite parable in the entire New Testament is one that we are all familiar with. Pretty much anyone who has spent any time around Christians or the church has at least heard this one twice. It's that familiar. I'm going paraphrase it, I'm sure you will know the one I'm talking about within the first sentence. 

(If not, check out Luke 15) 

There was this really rich guy who had two sons. His younger son approached him one day and said, "Pops, I know you aren't dead yet, but let's pretend you are dead to me and go ahead and give me all my inheritance. I want all my half of what you got." The father, being a good father, obliged and let the teenager have his inheritance early to do with it as he pleased. The boy ran off and spent all the money on alcohol, drugs, sex, and the like. Basically he spent the money on filthy things that his dad probably would never have approved of. Finally, the boy found himself working for another man, doing the nasty work- feeding the pigs and cleaning up after them. He had spent all his money and had no food. He was so hungry that even the slop he fed the pigs looked delicious. The boy finally wises up and realizes that even his dad's hired slaves have it better than he does now. He decides to return home and beg his dad to take him in as a slave. 

The father sees the boy from way down the road, the bible says a long way off, and the father begins to run towards his son. He is sprinting, whooping and hollering from deep wells of joy and pleasure- His son has come home! 

Before the boy can even get a word out of his mouth, the father plants a big, sloppy kiss on his filthy, pig-crap covered cheek, throws a robe and ring (of authority) on him and hollers for someone to kill the prized calf for the biggest block celebration party in history. 

The boy's older brother got pretty ticked off at the father because he was faithful and loyal and did everything right but never got this kind of celebration before. The father reaffirms his love for him and tells him that he's great and has access to all his brother is getting and more simply because he's a son. 

And the party goes on. 

This story is referenced in nearly every altar call in the church. Everyone has been one of the brothers, well, really both of them, at one point or another in their life. It's a sweet story where the boy is forgiven, but I think we sometimes miss the big picture. 

The parable is known as the prodigal son. If you ask someone about it, they will tell you "oh, it's about this kid who wasted everything and then got back on track and his dad threw a party". 

But if I can change the title of this parable, if I can help you see that this parable isn't at all what we have come to accept it to be, please give me that honor. 

This story isn't about the son. 

It's not about the filthy son.

 It's not about the faithful son. 

It's not about throwing really rad parties. 

This story is about the Father. He is the point if the story. 

The story is about the Father's goodness, not about the sons' filth or faithfulness. 

Thank God! Thank God that our Father in heaven is that good Father! Thank God that when we were filthy in sin he ran down the road to plant a big, wet redeeming kiss on our cheek. Thank God that when we pout and complain that it's not fair that we have been so good while others have been so bad he lifts up our chin, and sings songs of delight and extravagant love over us and speaks to our identity as sons and daughters. 

Thank God that he is good-er than we ever imagined!!! 

The son thought he would beg to be a slave, but the Father surprised him big. The Father gave him the authority of his name. The son didn't have to earn the Father's trust back. He didn't have to prove himself. He didn't have to beg and plead. The Father was watching and waiting for the day that the son would carry his name, his identity, and walk in the authority that is his, simply because he is a son. 

So today, where ever we are, whoever we feel we identify most with, forget it. Forget who you feel most like.

Quiet your heart and mind. 

Listen. 

Hear that? 

That sound is the pounding of the Father's feet coming down the dirt road to plant a big kiss on your cheek. 

That's the rhythm of Him singing his pleasure over you. 

He is more good than you ever wished you could imagine. 

Step into your identity as a beloved son or daughter of a really, really, good, glad, kind, loving, dad. You dad is in a really good mood. 

In progress...

There was a little girl named Leehi*. She loved her father very much. She loved to see him smile. His smile was warm and could be felt from miles away. She loved to hear his laugh. His laugh would fill the room with joy. She found great satisfaction in serving him. She would have given anything to make him happy and see him smile. Leehi and her father had an amazing relationship. She enjoyed talking with him. She told him everything. They would laugh and play. Leehi loved it when he picked her up and twirled her around. Nothing could separate them. The bond they had was strong.
As the years went on, Leehi began to grow older and made more friends. She still loved her father, but she loved her social life too. She wanted to explore the world. She was curious about what all life had to offer. She decided to pack her bag and set off on an adventure. She explored many countries of the world. She loved her new friends and all the fun things they introduced her to. She enjoyed staying out late and trying new things. Her friends led her to many new places. She began to try things she had never experienced before. Things that she knew her father wouldn't approve of. The kind of things she had been warned about by her father. She knew it was wrong, but she thought,

 "Oh, I'll just do it this once. It's not a big deal. What could it hurt anyway?" 

She soon learned how wrong she was to think that.  

She was quickly sucked in to these new, bad things. She found her self addicted and alone. Her friends left her. She had no one to turn to. 

So she hid. 

Alone.

Scared.

Addicted.

Lost.

She thought back to her childhood. When she felt safe. 

When she was loved.

She remembered dancing with her father. 

She missed him.

Yes. She missed him more than words could describe.

"How could I ever go back?"

"I have messed up so bad." 

"I don't even look the same."

"I am dirty."

"I left him...even after he warned me... I still did all these things."

"He is disappointed in me."

"How could he not be disappointed in me?"

"Look what I have done..."

"Maybe he will give me one more chance... maybe..."

"I don't know if I even remember the way back home though..."

These are the thoughts that flooded her mind. Day after day. Finally she got up the nerve to try to journey back home to her father. Fearing that he might never love her again, she anxiously made her way back home. She knew that all she had to do was knock and her father would let her in... but would he love her? She decided that she would do whatever it took to make him love her again. 

When she saw her father, tears streamed down her face. 

He embraced her. 

He spun her around. 

He held her.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

He cleaned her up.

Gave her new clothes.

He smiled at her.

Would it last?

After she told him all the things she did, would he still smile at her?

Days went by. Leehi and her dad spent time together. He told her how much he missed her. How glad he was for her to be back. He told her he loved her.

She didn't believe it.

After all she had done, how could he love her?

So she began to work.

She labored day in and day out. She did everything she knew how to do plus more. 

She strived to make him happy. She wanted to give him the best she could.

She worked.

And worked.

And worked.

She tired herself out.

But kept working.

All the while her father just wanted her. He just wanted to be with her. He loved HER. Yes, her working was helpful, but that's not what he was pleased with. He may have had his daughter back... but he still missed her. He missed the times they had once shared. He missed her being delighted in him. He missed being able to just lavish his love on her. She wouldn't let him. He saw that she felt she was unworthy of his love. He knew the weight of the guilt she carried and it broke his heart. Wanting her to realize who she is, he wrote her a letter. When he was finished, he folded the letter and put it in an envelope and placed it on her pillow.

That night, as she lay down to sleep, she found the letter. She opened it and through tears she read...

Daughter,

You have been mine from the beginning. I have always loved you. 

I have seen you grow. I have seen you learn. Yes, you have made mistakes. But you are not the sum of your mistakes. 

You are beautiful. You are mine. I love you. 

I don't want your efforts. I don't want your work.

 I want you.

Don't you know who you belong to?

 Me.

 Nothing can change that. 

You can do the most horrible things in the world and I will still love you. 

Nothing will change my love for you.

 Stop carrying the guilt. Stop trying to gain my approval.

Just rest. 

Take a break. 

Sit with me.

I miss you. 

Your name says it all. YOU ARE MINE. 

There is nothing you can do to change that. Stop trying to earn my love.

It is impossible for me to love you any more than I do right now.

I will never leave you. You don't have to strive to make me pleased with you... I am already absolutely in love with you. 

You please me more than life itself. 

You give me great joy.

I delight in you.

Stop working. Just be with me. 

I don't want your work.

I want you.

I love you. 

-Daddy

 That weight was lifted from her shoulders as she realized how much her father really did love her. She ran to him. She forgot about being tired. She knew that perfect rest was in her father's arms. She melted into his arms and wept. He held her close and whispered, "I love you just because you are mine."

*She is mine


How often do I try to prepare a gift for God when all he really wants is me? I am so guilty of trying to work for his approval. I don't understand why I think that his love can be earned. I know it can't, but I still find myself working for him rather than simply loving him.
Jesus, help me rest knowing that you love me because I am yours. Help me find a balance between serving and loving. You are not my soccer coach. You will not kick me off the team if I can't "get it right." You are not my employer. You are my husband. You just want me.