God IS Love

I just returned from a women's conference with my church. It was called "He knows your name". It was powerful.

I have had many experiences of inner healing with God, yet I still struggle at times with feelings of rejection, insecurity,inadequacy, etc. I have, a few times, asked myself why, but was unable to reach an answer. It is because I have very little grasp or understanding of the love of God. Oh, yes, I have felt His loving arms around me. I have wept with a touch of His love. But, though those times were very real and meaningful, I allowed the old patterns of what I thought love was to cloud my picture of my Father, and make room for all those other feelings to rise.

My earthly father was a good man. He was a Christian. He even went to Bible college, although he did not become a pastor. He taught Sunday School and lived a morally good life. But, he was not perfect. He left me with several misconcepts about love. My father never rejected me openly, yet there seemed to be just a tad of aloofness about him. He played tether ball with me and taught me to swim and ride bikes and horses. He let me drive tractors and trowel cement. He wanted a boy. I was born when he was forty and already the father of two daughters. He had not especially wanted another child. So, he reasoned, surely God would grant him a son, since that was his heart's desire and he had this unexpected child later in life. It took me years before I accepted that my Heavenly Father wanted a daughter, so my earthly dad was chosen for me.

My dad was a worrier. He would stay up late at night pacing the floor, worrying about business projects and storm damage, etc. He was extremely responsible. I am sure he meant to pass that on to me. He did. Yet, he also passed on to me the idea that everything that happened to me was somehow my fault. Somehow I was responsible for everything, just like he was. Oh, he didn't cause the storms, but still, the damages or consequences were his responsibility, and somehow his fault for not thinking ahead. And the storms of my life received the same verdict. He was not a very merciful person. You had to pay for your own mistakes and lack of fore-thought. And, you could always do better next time.

And, though he meant to encourage his kids, he found it difficult. He steered us away from dreaming about careers dominated by men, or careers involving talent. God coud snatch those talents right away from us if we strayed from Him, and then, where would we be? (I wanted to be a writer and ...well, read on!) And if God had wanted us to be principals (my middle sister's dream) or therapists (my oldest sister's thought), or preachers/evangelists (my desire), He would have made us boys! He had trouble acknowledging awards we received and cautioned us not to become proud.

But, he did spend time with me. He read to me when I was little. He played with table games and tetheball with me. He hugged me once in a while.

My mom died when I was four. My sisters were 14 and 18. I got to live with my grandparents for three years. They loved me, but were steeped in a legalistic church...no dancing, no worldly music, no football games, no bowling, very little TV (that was taboo, too, but Grandpa wouldn't comply!) Of course, anyone who smoked or drank alcohol of any kind or cursed in anyway, was not a Christian, and I should not be around them.

And then came a new mom. A very wounded mom. They didn't know about "baggage" or "bondage" back then, and counseling was for those who had no God in their lives. I learned then, that father-love would not take my side, even if there was proof of my innocence. I was not to be defended, even if I was wronged. I probably deserved it one way or another. I figured he must be right.

My dad did not beat me himself. But he did not prevent it either. He did not molest me. But he did not believe me when an employee of his attempted it...along with the youth pastor, a year later (I never told my parents that one...they would NEVER believe it!) And my mom would only say I must have worn my skirt too short, or make me stop wearing shorts.

So, you can imagine my image of Father God. Loving, but aloof, willing to play with me as long as it was things He liked. He expected me to perform to the best of my ability (which he determined), and when I didn't, would just go do something better than talking to me. He wouldn't believe me over the word of men. I must follow the rules, have only godly thoughts, and be responsible for myself and everything and everyone in my path. Say my prayers, pay my tithe, say grace at the table, read my Bible and memorize Scriptures. Then I would be that good little girl He wanted.(or not).

Years ago God started to work on me. He loving offered healing and I accepted it...as far as I could. It was like I had cancer and required surgery, chemotherapy, and lots of medicine...and more surgery..etc.

But, God IS love. He is getting through to me more and more each day. I forgive my dad. He did the best he could. I forgive my mom. She was extremely wounded from her own childhood and basically hated herself.

And now, I am forgiving myself. Forgiving myself for hanging on to some of these issues far too long; for not spending more time with my Father. For not believing what HE said about me over what I had been told by others.

I realize that it was I who has held myself back. It is I who had become afraid of success as much as of failure. Oh, I did go to Bible college. I did have successful ministry. But I have allowed men's opinions, and people's critiques to draw me into the background and hide my calling and talents from all but a few select people. God has forgiven me and refreshed my call. I have forgiven me now too. I hope you all forgive yourselves, because He has already forgiven you.