Oh, How He Loves Me . . . and You
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name . . . "
The first two words of the Lord’s Prayer mean a lot to me.
I never had a father. At least, I never had one who cared about me. My biological father left when I was five. That was 50 years ago. I still remember when Mom told me he was not coming home anymore. I sat next to her on our black couch. It had silver specks and was covered with plastic slipcovers. I didn’t like how the plastic felt against my skin.
We saw Al only a time or two during the next several years. I met him once again when I was eighteen. When I asked him why he abandoned me, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Because I wanted to.”
Mom married Tom when I was 12. I never remember him taking me into his arms and hugging me. He never told me he loved me. Never told me I was ok.
Our Father . . . .
In recent years my Father in heaven has become for me much more than an intellectual concept. I suppose I’ve had kind of an epiphany. He has revealed Himself to me as really, really, really my father. At times I can almost sense Him take me into His arms and embrace me. I can almost hear His voice telling me, “I love you. You’re doing ok.”
How I need that.
And I imagine so do you.
Our Father in heaven is not only my father. He is as much yours as well. Whoever you are, whatever your family background, whether your earthly father was like mine, or your dad was and is someone special to you. As much as our Father in heaven wants to embrace me, He wants to embrace you, love you, hold you, tell you how much He loves you.
Quiet yourself. Get alone with Him, someplace where you can put aside all distractions and listen for His voice. It takes practice. It takes persistence. But He will not disappoint you.
End
RNMaffeo@aol.com
The first two words of the Lord’s Prayer mean a lot to me.
I never had a father. At least, I never had one who cared about me. My biological father left when I was five. That was 50 years ago. I still remember when Mom told me he was not coming home anymore. I sat next to her on our black couch. It had silver specks and was covered with plastic slipcovers. I didn’t like how the plastic felt against my skin.
We saw Al only a time or two during the next several years. I met him once again when I was eighteen. When I asked him why he abandoned me, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Because I wanted to.”
Mom married Tom when I was 12. I never remember him taking me into his arms and hugging me. He never told me he loved me. Never told me I was ok.
Our Father . . . .
In recent years my Father in heaven has become for me much more than an intellectual concept. I suppose I’ve had kind of an epiphany. He has revealed Himself to me as really, really, really my father. At times I can almost sense Him take me into His arms and embrace me. I can almost hear His voice telling me, “I love you. You’re doing ok.”
How I need that.
And I imagine so do you.
Our Father in heaven is not only my father. He is as much yours as well. Whoever you are, whatever your family background, whether your earthly father was like mine, or your dad was and is someone special to you. As much as our Father in heaven wants to embrace me, He wants to embrace you, love you, hold you, tell you how much He loves you.
Quiet yourself. Get alone with Him, someplace where you can put aside all distractions and listen for His voice. It takes practice. It takes persistence. But He will not disappoint you.
End
RNMaffeo@aol.com
posted by rich at
8:43 PM
