“But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God.” John 1:2
Though I can sink into feeling severed from Your family line, ashamed and bearing heavy burdens — same old burdens that wear my skin thin in the same old places — You still call me daughter.
My body migrates towards years of grooves formed as orphan, yet You patiently nudge my wheels out. And up.
That’s what a daddy does.
I adore You, Father who saw that, in my sin, I had no right to anything, and yet gave me the very best birthright. I praise You that You not only allow me to be child in my weak moments, but give me the right to be one throughout all of my life. I, who have nothing to offer the God who created sands I can’t count (but ones that He numbers), come to You poor and leave with all Your inheritance.
You give me all that You have. Every spiritual blessing in Your Son is available to me. It is no longer about who I am not, but my whole bounty rests on who You are. I am little girl, learning to walk, and You wear the tender, calloused hands of life in the Son of Your flesh, gently holding me up. I fumble and flounder and fall all over my life and yet I don’t weary You.
You don’t tire of me, Daddy. I hang my head down at the first sign of failure and You breathe what You are into me. Mercy.
You not only endure me, You enjoy me.
And by Your enjoyment, I come alive.
I am thirty-four years young under the gaze of my daddy.
I worship You, restorer of all of my youth.
You give me a name — it is Yours — and then pour out a lifetime for me to own it. What is this exchange, penniless me for extravagant You … over and over again? With You, Father, every single day is new. There is not one doldrum moment when I put on You.
Like a two year-old who sees but one side of her Father, who’s capacity is limited by time and perception, I am new to You. I see You through Your responses to me, my world still so very self-centered. But in Your patriarchal patience, You meet me as two, and nurse my development.
You’ve only just begun, You whisper.
Your Father-hand makes it safe for me to grow.
I praise You for this namesake for which I have a lifetime to inherit.
If you are compelled, I invite you to participate. Set up a space and time in your own life to begin adoring. Over laundry or dinner dishes, on your commute to work, or in the wee morning hours — five or ten minutes is a great start. You can use the verse I list here every day or two as a launch pad for your own adoration. (Showing Up gives you some practicals.)
Then practice praise.
I promise your weary soul won’t regret it.
You can see all of the Morning Chai posts with this link: http://www.EveryBitterThingisSweet.com/posts/chai/ and you can easily subscribe to these devotional meditations as they are delivered, by using this feed: http://www.EveryBitterThingisSweet.com/posts/chai/feed or by entering your email address in the second box on the right-hand side.
Photos compliments of Mandie Joy.