I came across a picture of my dad holding me when I baby. We were out on the ocean and he was showing me things and telling stories (not that I remember them, not that I even knew what he was talking about at the time) but when you see the picture...you'll see what I mean.
When I first saw this picture, my initial thought was "I wish I could go back there" but not as that baby. I wish I could go back there right now, in my twenty-two year old body and sit on a rock nearby-invisible. I would just want to be there in that moment with baby me and Dad. I would want to hear how he talked to little baby me, I would like to hear the things he pointed out, showing me the waves and the seals. I would like to hear the stories he told my baby ears on the ocean.
When I get off of the phone with my dad now days, I always think of how lucky I am. I know I was given the best dad that could have been made. Often girls think of God in the way they think of their dad... this can be an extremely unfortunate comparison. Even with the world's greatest dad, the comparison of him and God our Father is unjust. Still when I talk to my dad I hear short sentences of the passionate heart of God for me. Or when I feel homesick for my dad at twenty-two years of age I see then the lovesickness in myself for God.
The fact of the matter is, between my dad and God is there little comparison. Except when my dad calls me because he misses me and was thinking about me all day at work. Or when I call my dad and he pauses his favorite show (the Bachelor) to talk to me about my day. All the times I've called in a favor to my dad, needing money to make it through the month due to my ill choiced shopping- but still he comes through. So many times my dad reflects Jesus to me...I dont think he realizes it...but more often than not his love and affection for me draws my heart nearer God.
I am still the little girl on the ocean held in the arms of a Father- one who longs to show me the waves and point out the seals. Who whispers to me and bundles me tighter in the oceans mist. I'm not a baby anymore in this physical body. But still my heart yearns to be small and near my Dad. Because regardless of what kind of father we have on earth- there is a Father of mercy and kindness in heaven that even the world's best dad can only palely reflect. This God who created all things, who knows the inner workings of our wicked hearts, who knows the terrible choice we will make before we do, and is busy with a chaotic world- still wants to be the one we come to for a hug, to talk about our day with, who thinks about us all the time without ceasing, and wants to give us good gifts.
When I first saw this picture, my initial thought was "I wish I could go back there" but not as that baby. I wish I could go back there right now, in my twenty-two year old body and sit on a rock nearby-invisible. I would just want to be there in that moment with baby me and Dad. I would want to hear how he talked to little baby me, I would like to hear the things he pointed out, showing me the waves and the seals. I would like to hear the stories he told my baby ears on the ocean.
When I get off of the phone with my dad now days, I always think of how lucky I am. I know I was given the best dad that could have been made. Often girls think of God in the way they think of their dad... this can be an extremely unfortunate comparison. Even with the world's greatest dad, the comparison of him and God our Father is unjust. Still when I talk to my dad I hear short sentences of the passionate heart of God for me. Or when I feel homesick for my dad at twenty-two years of age I see then the lovesickness in myself for God.
The fact of the matter is, between my dad and God is there little comparison. Except when my dad calls me because he misses me and was thinking about me all day at work. Or when I call my dad and he pauses his favorite show (the Bachelor) to talk to me about my day. All the times I've called in a favor to my dad, needing money to make it through the month due to my ill choiced shopping- but still he comes through. So many times my dad reflects Jesus to me...I dont think he realizes it...but more often than not his love and affection for me draws my heart nearer God.
I am still the little girl on the ocean held in the arms of a Father- one who longs to show me the waves and point out the seals. Who whispers to me and bundles me tighter in the oceans mist. I'm not a baby anymore in this physical body. But still my heart yearns to be small and near my Dad. Because regardless of what kind of father we have on earth- there is a Father of mercy and kindness in heaven that even the world's best dad can only palely reflect. This God who created all things, who knows the inner workings of our wicked hearts, who knows the terrible choice we will make before we do, and is busy with a chaotic world- still wants to be the one we come to for a hug, to talk about our day with, who thinks about us all the time without ceasing, and wants to give us good gifts.
Take us back to the ocean Lord.
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