Devotional Archives -- God's Parent Heart

April 12, 2004—

He Thought of Me!

For the Lord your God has arrived to live among you. He is a mighty Savior. He will give you victory. He will rejoice over you in great gladness; he will love you and not accuse you.’ Is that a joyous choir I hear? No, it is the Lord himself exulting over you in happy song. Zephaniah 3:17-18, The Living Bible

We stood in church, worshipping the risen Lord, celebrating His power and His sacrifice. We sang, "Crucified, laid behind a stone, You lived to die rejected and alone, Like a rose trampled on the ground, You took the fall and thought of me, Above all."*

As the song echoed through the sanctuary, I envisioned my Lord on the cross, pictured His arms outstretched, His head dipping in agony. Christ taking my sin. At the words, "and thought of me above all," the picture in my mind suddenly changed.

Christ stood before me. He reached for my hands and we twirled in a happy circle. As we danced He threw back His head and laughed in sheer joy.  It was as if He said to me, this is why I did it—to enjoy you forever.

Enjoy me? Really?

I struggle to grasp the truth of His love, the fact that He delights in and wants to be close to me. Did He really suffer on the cross so we could be together?

As I grapple with such a concept, I cling to His word. In Zephaniah 3:17 the Bible says God thinks I’m so special He actually sings over me. I read a book by a Jewish rabbi that said, properly translated, the scripture actually means He dances over me! Take a moment. Can you see it? The God of the universe—dancing with joy—over us!

The Bible says that Jesus came to reconcile us to God. Our creator wants to receive us as His own children—to be close to us. In Ephesians 1:5 we’re told that God "predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will . . ." (NIV).

It’s a lot for me to grasp—this idea that it brings God pleasure to embrace me as His child. When I put it in the context of Christ’s death on the cross I am even more awed. Jesus was willing to sacrifice Himself because He longed to be close to me. The thought is too big to wrap my mind around.

That day in church we celebrated a baby dedication. It was easy to see how the parents rejoiced in their little boy. Smiles of adoration shined on their faces. They held the little guy close and even sang of their love for him.

Toward the end of the dedication time the father invited all the children to the front of the room. He wanted us to take a few moments to simply rejoice in them. Then, he told us that God delights in us, just as we rejoice in our children.

There are days I still strive to believe God can rejoice in me, but then I remember the picture He gave me of Jesus holding my hands and laughing—and I sense His pleasure.

Father, help me to accept, in the deepest fibers of my being, the truth that you died so we could be close. Draw me near to yourself so we can enjoy each other’s company.

*Above All by Paul Baloche and Lenny Leblanc

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April 19, 2004—

The Throne Room

Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16 NKJV

I knelt in front of my blue recliner, petitioning the Lord while the house was quiet. You said in Your word that I could come boldly before the throne of grace so here I come, asking for Your help—because You said I could.

Where are you, Paula, The Lord interrupted, whispering to my heart. Where are you when you come before my throne?

A piece of a scripture flitted through my mind, something about being seated with Christ in the heavenlies. Sitting with Jesus?, I responded.

And where is He?

At Your right hand?

The prompting in my heart was quiet. I grabbed my Bible and looked for the scripture the Lord had reminded me of. I found it in Ephesians 2:6:  "And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus."

It became clear. I’d approached God as someone who didn’t really belong with Him. I’d “claimed” Heb. 4:16 and had clung to it for the courage to ask my requests of Him. It was as though I were an outsider, entering the throne room, marching down a long corridor lined with the heavenly host, demanding an audience. I saw myself, heart pounding, holding my little scrap of scripture to gain entrance to presence of God.

My loving Father reminded me that I was His very own. I BELONGED in the throne room; I was seated right beside Him in Christ. I flipped to Hebrews 4:16 and wrote in the margin. “I approach His throne from my position of being seated with Christ in the heavenlies. (Eph 2:6) I can approach God as one already close.”

Sometimes I still forget the precious truths God gave me in His word. He says I’m His child (John 1:12), adopted by the Father (Eph 1:5), and united with Him. (1 Cor 6:17). Through Christ’s death on the cross I’ve not only been given access to the royal room, I’ve become one of the family!

That day my picture of prayer changed. No longer do I enter the throne room while trembling before the hosts of heaven. I’m more like a welcomed child, seated right next to my daddy . . . and when I need something, I just lean a bit to the left and His arm envelops me.

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April 26, 2004—

The Right Medicine

Can a woman forget her nursing child, And have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Isaiah 49:15 NASB

"I just need someone to hold me." Before me stood my firstborn son, cheeks flushed red with fever and glassy eyes full of need.

My fingers on the keyboard stopped mid-word. My son, on the threshold of manhood, had broad shoulders and a strong, athletic body, which, along with passion and hours of practice, helped make him the #1 ranked player in his hockey league. How many more opportunities would I have to soothe his hurts with the simple of act of holding?

"Meet me at the recliner," I said, leaving a sentence fragment behind a flashing curser on my computer screen.

His buddies at the rink might have been shocked to see my highly competitive son curled up on my lap. I rocked him in our blue recliner, gently touching his fevered forehead. I held him close as his painful gulps slowed into peaceful breaths and the tense lines on his face disappeared. We sat, quiet, as I held him to my heart.

"This helps me," he whispered.

A few days earlier my daughter had fought the same illness. A Jr. Higher, she’d been a real trooper, showing her maturity by keeping mostly to her room and resting while I continued our home school schedule. As a little girl she could have never endured such solitude, especially when she was sick.

As soon as I was more available, though, Sarah had slipped into the living room where her dad and I sat. "I just need you to hold me," she implored, fighting the tears her swollen throat and aching body were bringing to the surface. Her dad got her some pain reliever and I pulled her on my lap, snuggling her beneath her lavender feather comforter.

After awhile Sarah seemed to ease. "Is the medicine starting to help you," honey? I asked.

She gave me a sweet, lopsided grin and whispered, "Which medicine? The Tylenol or you?"

Later, Sarah’s dad had held her as I watched, touched by her look of peace as she curled up in his arms.

My son stirred, bringing me back to the present. I pulled him closer, thankful my children asked us to hold them when they hurt, even as they matured. My mind drifted to my own life—to the times I needed Someone bigger, stronger, and healthier to hold me. It didn’t seem to matter how much I “grew up” or how life’s lessons built my spiritual muscles, there was never a time I didn’t need Him holding me tight.

Just as my children knew my arms offered comfort in the midst of pain, I knew my Father’s arms brought me peace. Over the years, especially in those sickly, miserable times, I’d learned to crawl upon my Father’s lap.

"Thank you, Lord," I whispered. "It helps me."

How many times had I gone to him, whining or weeping about my pain? I’d learned to tell him all about it, every detail, every emotion, every hurt—and then just sit quietly before Him and accept His love. To crawl into his arms I had to break away from busyness and the toil of the battle—to take time by myself to just be with Him.

I also had to trust that scripture was true. His word said He promised to hold me as me as a mother held her weaned child. That kind of love I understood, the love of a parent who pulled you close even after your baby days were over.

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May 3, 2004—

God's Delight

Stephen’s blue eyes were wide and a solitary tear ran down his cheek. I quickly sat on the flannel sheets of his bed.

“What is it, honey?”

“I’m just thinking about Grandpa and missing him.”

My throat constricted as I hugged him. Then, I cupped his face in my hands and wiped the tear off his freckles with my thumb. “What made you think about that again?”

“The story you told about him yesterday. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“But that was a happy story and it’s been a long time since you’ve felt sad about Grandpa.”

His little hand wrapped itself around my arm and he looked at me earnestly. “Just because the story is happy and he’s been gone a while doesn’t mean all the grief is gone out of my heart.” He spoke with wisdom beyond his seven years. I caressed his cheek and wiped another tear.  “Sometimes I just wish he’d died before I was born so I wouldn’t have to miss him so much, but,” he added, “then I know I wouldn’t have got to have all those happy times with him either.”

I gazed down at him seeking for a way to ease his pain, a silent prayer on my lips. “You know, sweetheart,” I finally said, “As good as the memories of Grandpa are, he gave you something even more special that will always be in your heart.”

Stephen’s eyes searched mine. His hand squeezed harder.

“Gramps showed you what it feels like when someone loves to be with you. He delighted in you, Stephen.

Now your heart knows what it means to be special. Gramps showed you how God feels about you. For the rest of your life you can know deep inside how much God loves and enjoys you because Grandpa showed you.”

A peace settled over his face and he nuzzled his head against my arm. I thought about the truth in my words—words that surprised me even as I said them.

Memories sometimes fade too quickly for me and I’m sad that I can’t remember the sights, smells, and colors of special moments, but what my loved ones have given me go deeper than memories. Their love imprinted God’s love upon my heart. They showed me that someone delighted in me and because of that experience I am able to open my heart to the truth that God delights in me.

When my children were little my husband and I would often sit and watch them, enthralled by their little actions. Now that they are older we delight in them as they mature. We rejoice with them as they discover their unique personalities, skills, and passions. We love just being with them, sharing their special moments.

I had parents who delighted in me and their love gave me a foundation for life that helps me accept love from God and others. Sadly, many in the world have never known what it means to be delighted in, to understand they are special to someone important. For many of us, even though we were delighted in as children, we find it difficult to believe we are worthy of that kind of love as adults.

Our failures and our weaknesses wear upon us and we cease to believe we could bring God joy. But the truth is, just as we find joy in our children simply because they are ours, so our Father delights in us just because we are His. We didn’t earn His love, nor can we lose it. Zephaniah 3:17b says that God will “take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” (NIV)

Whatever the grief we face; whatever stress presses upon us, whatever our failures or successes, His delight never ceases.

Do you hear the whisper of His song?

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May 10, 2004—

A Mother's Heart

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.” Isaiah 66:13a NIV

“I figured it out.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror I caught the very serious, yet pleased look on my four-year-old daughter’s face. “What did you figure out honey?”

Her green eyes shone. “How God takes care of our baby,” she said, pointing to my swollen tummy. She began to explain, her little hands gesturing and the pink scrungy on her ponytail bobbing. “See, He made stairs that go from your heart down to your tummy. Then, when your baby cries Jesus comes out of your heart, goes down those stairs, picks up the baby, and rocks him back to sleep.” She ended with a big smile on her face and rocked her imaginary doll.

I nodded seriously with a non-committal “Ahem” and fought to hide the grin wanting to creep across my face. It was one of many of Sarah’s efforts to understand the big things in life—you know, things like how God can live inside of us, love us, and take care of our needs. Maybe her thoughts about all of that wouldn’t thrill a theologian, but I can’t help but feel she glimpsed a bit of God’s heart.

Sometimes God seems far away, but even at four Sarah understood that He never is—that, in fact, He dwells right in our hearts. She hadn’t yet memorized the Bible verses, but she already understood the truth of Isaiah 66:13a. She believed in God’s mother heart—a heart that comforts us in our pain. She understood that God has a mother’s ears—ears that hear the cries of His children.

It seems we hear more about God’s father heart than His mother heart—but scripture clearly shows that He loves us as a mother does. There are verses that talk of how He wants to care for us as a mother cares for her nursing child or as a mother hen gathers her baby chicks under her wings.

In God’s perfection there is a piece of His personality that is mirrored in the good of a mother. In His perfect plan He made fathers and mothers to represent Him to their children and He placed His own nurturing spirit within women so they could be His arms of love to little ones.

The incident with my daughter happened years ago. Now almost a teen, Sarah doesn’t see God as a tiny Jesus walking down stairways in my tummy, but I can’t help but believe that even as a little girl she understood what many of us grown-ups miss. Back then she trusted God’s mother heart. She understood that when you cry He’ll make a way to reach you so He can hold you.

“Father God, teach me to trust your nurturing care. Reveal to me the ways you love as a mother who longs to comfort her child.”