When I was a kid, I would sometimes retreat to the
shed in the backyard to hide from my parents. Really, it was a ploy to
get them to feel sorry for me. I wanted their attention, and it was
usually because I had done something wrong and had to have some way of
having the last word.
It was my way of righting my wrong. There may have been a spanking or discipline, but that didn't satisfy me. What I really wanted was my parents to realize they were wrong (for doing the right thing) and come out to the shed to baby me and tell me that I was a good boy.
Hiding and running away and shame.
Then there's my friend. As a kid, his dad would force him to watch as he shot heroin into his bloodstream. As a teenager, his dad would steal money from him to buy cocaine. As quickly as he could, he distanced himself from his father but learned the hard way that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Hiding and running away and shame.
Then there's my other friend - who never met his biological parents. He grew up in the foster system, only to find out that at age 18 he would be on his own with no parents to watch him graduate high school or get married or get his first job or buy his own car. To this day, he's afraid to get close to anyone because they might abandon him. Just like his parents did.
Hiding and running away and shame.
And then we have a man and a woman in a garden. They do something that's against the rules. And what do they do? They hide and run away and are full of shame.
For thousands of years, stories have been written about a God who disciplines like a father and scorns his children for doing the wrong thing. Could that whole concept be a looking glass into the writers' views of their own fathers?
Many times I hear people say how God loves us like a mother or a father loves their children. But, what about the friends of ours whose parents were never there, whose fathers forced them to watch as they got high on heroin, whose mothers drove them to their death in a lake?
What about Abraham trying to kill his own son? What about Lot sleeping with his daughters? What about Noah cursing his son?
Projecting our views of loving parents onto God works really well . . . if our parents loved us really well. I wouldn't have enough time in the world, enough money to pay, enough love to give, to pay back the debt I owe my parents for the love they've showed me. And, I don't believe they'd ever want me to even feel I have to pay them back for anything.
But even with my parents doing an amazing job at raising me well, loving me well, and showing me grace without borders, there were some pretty tense moments. Yelling. Spanking. Discipline. Times when patience just . . . ran . . . out. It was in those moments that they became human and flawed and just like me.
Throughout the scriptures we find time and time again a God who's different from all the other gods. This God's love just doesn't run out. This God isn't done. This God is dead set on redeeming everyone and everything, for all time. This God is restoring everyone and everything back to how they were created to live.
So, when we read the scriptures, we're reading into real authors who had real lives and real parents.
And then, on the other hand, we see a picture painted of a God who is not a parent. This God doesn't make the mistakes of a parent, doesn't run out of patience like a parent, and doesn't give up like some parents.
This God's love is infinitely greater than any love we've ever known, and in order to tap into this love, we must be willing to lay aside our preconceived notions of what God's love looks like. Empty ourselves of our experiences, our biases, and our culture, and dare to dive into a divine love that just doesn't run out.
It was my way of righting my wrong. There may have been a spanking or discipline, but that didn't satisfy me. What I really wanted was my parents to realize they were wrong (for doing the right thing) and come out to the shed to baby me and tell me that I was a good boy.
Hiding and running away and shame.
Then there's my friend. As a kid, his dad would force him to watch as he shot heroin into his bloodstream. As a teenager, his dad would steal money from him to buy cocaine. As quickly as he could, he distanced himself from his father but learned the hard way that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Hiding and running away and shame.
Then there's my other friend - who never met his biological parents. He grew up in the foster system, only to find out that at age 18 he would be on his own with no parents to watch him graduate high school or get married or get his first job or buy his own car. To this day, he's afraid to get close to anyone because they might abandon him. Just like his parents did.
Hiding and running away and shame.
And then we have a man and a woman in a garden. They do something that's against the rules. And what do they do? They hide and run away and are full of shame.
For thousands of years, stories have been written about a God who disciplines like a father and scorns his children for doing the wrong thing. Could that whole concept be a looking glass into the writers' views of their own fathers?
Many times I hear people say how God loves us like a mother or a father loves their children. But, what about the friends of ours whose parents were never there, whose fathers forced them to watch as they got high on heroin, whose mothers drove them to their death in a lake?
What about Abraham trying to kill his own son? What about Lot sleeping with his daughters? What about Noah cursing his son?
Projecting our views of loving parents onto God works really well . . . if our parents loved us really well. I wouldn't have enough time in the world, enough money to pay, enough love to give, to pay back the debt I owe my parents for the love they've showed me. And, I don't believe they'd ever want me to even feel I have to pay them back for anything.
But even with my parents doing an amazing job at raising me well, loving me well, and showing me grace without borders, there were some pretty tense moments. Yelling. Spanking. Discipline. Times when patience just . . . ran . . . out. It was in those moments that they became human and flawed and just like me.
Throughout the scriptures we find time and time again a God who's different from all the other gods. This God's love just doesn't run out. This God isn't done. This God is dead set on redeeming everyone and everything, for all time. This God is restoring everyone and everything back to how they were created to live.
So, when we read the scriptures, we're reading into real authors who had real lives and real parents.
And then, on the other hand, we see a picture painted of a God who is not a parent. This God doesn't make the mistakes of a parent, doesn't run out of patience like a parent, and doesn't give up like some parents.
This God's love is infinitely greater than any love we've ever known, and in order to tap into this love, we must be willing to lay aside our preconceived notions of what God's love looks like. Empty ourselves of our experiences, our biases, and our culture, and dare to dive into a divine love that just doesn't run out.
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