A Father's Love

My identity as Abba's child is not an abstraction or a tap dance into religiosity. It is the core truth of my existence. Living in the wisdom of accepted tenderness profoundly affects my perception of reality, the way I respond to people and their life situations. How I treat my brothers and sisters from day to day, whether they be Caucasian, African, Asian, or Hispanic; how I react to the sin- scarred wino on the street; how I respond to interruptions from people I dislike; how I deal with ordinary people in their ordinary unbelief on an ordinary day will speak the truth of whom I am more poignantly than the pro-life sticker on the bumper of my car. We are not for life simply because we are warding off death. We are sons and daughters of the Most High and maturing in tenderness to the extent that we are for others - all others - to the extent that no human flesh is strange to us, to the extent that we can touch the hand of another in love, to the extent that for us there are no "others'.

- Brennan Manning

My dad is the dad who answers the phone at Thanksgiving with: "Gooble gooble gooble! What's your favorite Thanksgiving food?" And at Christmas: "Ho ho ho! What's your favorite Christmas song?" He answers the phone in such a way regardless of who is calling. He is also the one who taught me to fix toilets, eat doughnuts and read the newspaper, listen to Paul Harvey while eating cup-o-noodles, and take me on drives to look at the Christmas lights. I guess you could say I was always my daddy's little girl.

We've had a good share of arguments, harsh words and disrespect towards each other. There have been long periods of time I have had zero desire to have a relationship with him, even times I have avoided him.

Being apart has helped me process and see more of how my parents have shaped who I have become, both negative and positive. As I have struggled through the process of forgiving him for past offenses, I have grown to appreciate and love him more. Like this past fall while remodeling the new YWAM building in Homer and the light fixtures needed installing, I knew how because he taught me. I realized how much my daddy has impacted me.

Tonight I leave on a bus for Chicago and tomorrow board a plane for Tokyo. I will not be here on Christmas day, so my parents and I celebrated Christmas early with a few presents.

I picked up a small square parcel. My mom said, "Your dad picked that one out." My response: "It'll be real good then!" I was expecting something ridiculous, like a redneck Christmas ornament or something with a horrible pun on it.

It was a necklace saying "love you to the moon and back". I thought my dad was going to cry; he couldn't make eye contact while I opened the box.

Growing up, every night my daddy tucked me into bed and we had this thing we would always say to each other, and it ended with: "Love you to the moon and back; sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bight." When I leave on long trips we still say it to each other before I board the plane.

It was a human glimpse of the Abba's love. My earthly daddy about cried thinking of the times we've exchanged intimate love. Our relationship is far from perfect, there are still many unhealthy aspect of it, but we are working on it.

As I grown into deeper realization of who I am in Abba Papa's eyes, as I continue to grow into the woman the Creator designed us to be, I begin to learn more of who He created others to be. In seeing who I am, I see who others are. As Papa speaks to me with respect and honor, reminding me of my worth and value, I learn more of the respect and honor my daddy deserves, how worthy and valuable he is. I understand more what it is to receive grace and forgiveness, knowing what it feels like to walk in this freedom. The deeper this understanding, the deeper the desire becomes to empower others the same.

We cannot accept love from another human being when we do not love ourselves, much less accept that God could possibly love us.

-Brennan Manning

Kansas Rest

A few days this past week were spent in Kansas. I came to Iowa seeking rest before joining the outreach team in Japan on December 26. In going to Kansas, the sole intent was rest. And I walked away, rather drove, with a greater understanding of a culture of honor.

I stayed in a house with four young men. It was an old house, as in carpeted bathrooms and wallpaper in the showers old. There were odd paintings adorning the walls, outdated wall trim and dishes in the sink. There was clothes and underwear in the bathroom, by the couch, on the table, on the stairs, by the door... The carpets were vacuumed, blankets folded on the couches and piles of ranked leaves in the front yard. The house had a realness about it, a lived in loved feeling.

Each of the young men willingly offered their rooms for me to sleep in, rearranging themselves about the house to respect my privacy. Attentive and caring. Asking how I slept and if I was hungry. They knew the love of Abba, an everyday kind of love, and walked out the same everyday kind of love.

Tuesday evening their living room filled with other Jesus lovers, a community established around the presence of God, seeking to know Abba's heart and be vessels of the Father's love. A hunger for more, not settling for what they were taught or had experienced, but a desire to taste and see more of the goodness of God. In the atmosphere of safety and trust, there was an ability to share heavy burdens or what Abba joyously was teaching us. 

Revelations 5:8,9 speaks of the prayers of the saints being bowls of incense, and the saints were singing a new song, a song found in spending time before the Throne. The house was soaked in such incense. Confessions were made, prayers for more freedom were said, and not a single prayer returned void. Where the Presence of the Lord is there is Freedom, and Freedom dwelt in the house.

In Danny Silk's book Culture of Honor, he writes, "Each believers comes to understand his or her significance in relationship to the whole Body, and the conviction begins to take hold: "I carry something that no one else carries. I must develop and release my gifts into the Church and the world and do my part in bringing Heaven to earth." Honor empowers people."

I was awoken early Friday morning by their dog. She jumped onto the bed, nudged me awake, curled up next to me and tried to share the pillow. A less than ideal situation for a person who is slowly coming around to the idea of dogs potentially being okay animals. I woke up in a room of peace. To awake in an unfamiliar place, knowing I was safe, is to know His presence is welcomed in the room.

Powerful people, empowering others to be powerful, by allowing them to be weak and real. In a house dedicated to walking in His everyday kind of love, they carry a love that will not leave others to walk alone. Their love takes others in and lifts them up. In finding rest, I found imitators of the Father's love.

As the children stepped out of the wardrobe in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, the Professor greeted them, not shushing them or declaring their tales as silly. Rather he says, "Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia. But don't go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don't try to get there at all. It'll happen when you're not looking for it. And don't talk too much about it even among yourselves. And don't mention it to anyone else unless you find that they've had adventures of the same sort themselves. What's that? How will you know? Oh, you'll know all right. Odd things they say - even their looks - will let the secret out. Keep your eyes open."

The culture of honor is such as the culture of Narnia. Once a King or Queen, always a King and Queen. Our identity is seen for what it is, not defined by our short comings and mishaps. And those bringing the Kingdom, they are different. They speak differently, act and look different. The words give weight and impact, their eyes search for truth and their actions carry love and value.

The invitation to intimacy with the Father, is an invitation to walk in and live out the culture of honor.

"Aslan is on the move. The Witch's magic is weakening." Sons and daughters, called by their true names, are being seen for the Beloveds they are. Their true dreams and destinies are being pulled out of them as a culture of honor so does. And the children are being brought back to the Table, filling the seats they were designed to fill.