Today, I am pleased as punch to have an amazing guest blogger filling my shoes here. Beth is an amazing writer and an awe-inspiring minister to me. She shares her heart for ministry with the world at Testify (one of my absolute favorite blogs) and Beth’s Faith Walk. On top of that, she writes at The Journey to a Healthier Me about her trials and triumphs with weight loss and at Beth: A Work in Progress about her everyday life. She’s busy, people. And she’s taken time out of her schedule to post here. I can’t tell you what that means to me. And this post? It’s amazing. So pay attention.

~*~*~

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” Luke 11:11-13 NIV

I’m not sure how many times I’ve heard this passage quoted. I do know that it has always made me cringe. Because my answer … was “mine.” I remember one specific incident when he offered me a piece of red candy and then laughed as I reacted to the very hot pepper that I was now required to chew and swallow.

My dad has a great sense of humor. I, in spite of growing up in his home, never did figure out how to tell where the teasing stopped and seriousness began. He would be laughing, playing, joking with us, and suddenly he was done. We were supposed to instantly turn off our play and become silent and serious. We seldom succeeded and were frequently disciplined for our failure to comply. And there was often an edge of cruelty to my father’s humor that kept me off-centered and afraid. Did he know he affected me that way? I’m not sure. Even as an adult I prefer to believe that he didn’t take pleasure in my very real terror. I know, that knowing some of the emotional scars I bear, he regrets some of those moments and the impact they had on me.

I wrote recently about a time when I was 5 years old and my father “failed” me. I expected him to prove to my kindergarten class that he could do magic and turn our classroom flag to psychedelic colors. He told me he couldn’t come. I heard that I wasn’t important enough to defend and my heart broke. It wasn’t until years later that I realized he couldn’t comply with my request.

I was blessed with a good father who loved me. I honestly believe that he did the absolute best he was capable of to protect, provide for, lead, and parent our family. Was he perfect? No. And somewhere between the baby girl who worshipped her daddy and the young adult who rebelled against him … I discovered some of my father’s imperfections.

I’m not sharing these things with you so I can complain about my dad. I’m sharing because … well … it sort of explains some of the issues that I have had with trusting God. By the time I hit my twenties I expected God the father to be teasing me and laughing at my discomfort, to be abandoning me when I needed him, to be strict and harsh, to be offering me hot peppers when I asked for candy, snakes when I asked for fish. I had no trouble at all seeing God as a demanding judge. But a loving father?

For me … the beginning of change in my father/daughter relationship with God came a couple of years ago when I read a little fiction book titled “The Shack.” (I can see conservative Christians everywhere cringing and crying “blasphemy!” Bear with me.) In this book the main character is a man, in pain, who really wants nothing to do with God. So God calls him out, alone, to the shack where He meets him and shows this broken man His heart.

In The Shack, God is first introduced as Papa, a large black woman, cooking dinner and overflowing with warmth and hospitality. The other characters are her son, Jesus, a down home handyman with a heart as big as all outdoors, and Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) who sort of reminded me of a hyperactive Tinkerbell. But back to Papa. Somehow … this view of God, so completely foreign to my own, took God out of the very small box that I had been keeping Him in! Do I think God is a large black woman? NO! But I also no longer think that we can define God by our human experience! It isn’t fair to God. And it isn’t fair to us!

Some times now when I pray … I will purposely call God, Papa! It’s to remind me of His warmth, His love, His acceptance, trustworthiness, compassion, etc. It’s to remind me that He is so much more than I ever perceived Him to be. And to remind me that I can trust Him!

Papa God,

Our world is so confused and broken. Too many of us do not know the loving example of fatherhood that You intended for our dads to provide for us. And we grow up not sure that we can trust You either. I beg You to open our eyes, and hearts, widen our vision, help us to take You out of the boxes into which we have tried to cram You and set You free in our lives! Help us to see You as You are rather than as we expect You to be! Help us to know how very much You love us! Help us to run to You, crawl into Your lap, and let You hold us until our hearts are healed. And then help us to share You, our Papa, with others! We thank You in advance for Your answers, Your grace, Your goodness, and Your Love!

Amen