The Face of Hope

     After I lost my dad, a lot of people would try to comfort me by telling me I would see him again in heaven. It was a nice thought, and it wasn't that I didn't believe it, but I wanted him to be with me on earth, to help me through High-school, to be at my graduations, and to walk me down the aisle at my wedding. I didn't find much comfort in dwelling on the fact that I would see him in heaven when I needed him on earth.

   It wasn’t until recently that I began to understand the significance of hope. This summer God called me to trust him to bring healing where I would otherwise have expected more hurt. I stepped forward in a faint hope that he would. The song “Seasons,” by Hillsong Worship, was a huge part of how God kept hope alive in me during that season. It has a line that really stands out to me now: "You could have saved us in a second; instead you sent a child."
     When Jesus was born, the world still had 33 years to wait for salvation, and longer to wait for the Holy Spirit. So why do we celebrate Christmas? Why not save the celebrations for Easter?  Was anything so different between the day Jesus was born and the day before? Death and sin still ran wild, and there was still no cure for either sin’s punishment or it’s power; yet, angels, and shepherds were overjoyed! Perhaps the difference was hope. 

     The promise of a savior had been made thousands of years before, but surely many doubted that it would be kept. Jesus birth was not the complete fulfillment of the promise, but when Jesus was born, hope became real. Hope was no longer built only on words passed down for generations. Hope was now alive in a baby boy with a star marking His birthplace. Hope had a name and a face! 

     It wasn’t until about a month ago, that I began to recognize the fruit of what was planted in the painful season I mentioned earlier. An open wound had become a scar and I realized what a lesson it had taught me about placing my confidence in the approval of people. If that hadn't happened before I went to college who knows how much more turmoil I would have experienced over the opinions of professors, roommates, and friends.

     That’s about the time I realized that hope mattered. Hope means believing it won’t always be this way. Having hope this summer meant believing God would both heal and bring something good out of that hurt. Still hope means believing I will see my dad again some day. In every difficult moment, hope is what stops pain from becoming despair!

      The hope first realized as a baby boy born in a barn, is the hope I cary of seeing my father again, the hope of every tear being wiped away from my eyes forever, and the hope of a perfect, unbroken relationship with our Heavenly Father! Looking forward with expectant confidence to these things is the reason I can keep moving forward after hard days, weeks, months, and years, because hope says there is something better ahead, and it’s worth waiting for.

Merry Christmas!

-L.

A 12-Year-Old's Perspective

Happy November!

     This time I want to share a poem I wrote for my Dad's memorial service. It's not an example of artistic excellence but it is a glimpse into my grieving twelve-year-old mind and heart. I guess I've been using creativity to process my emotions for a long time.
     To be honest, I typed it out from memory and it might not be the exact words I said at the memorial service. I know it's not an accurate description of every dad or even most, but it is an honest discription of how I saw mine and it points to the character of my Father in Heaven.
     I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my twelve-year-old heart:

"A father is someone who loves and protects
Our Heavenly Father's love reflects
A father is someone to always trust
A father's love will never rust
Though other father's I'm sure are fine
No other father is quite like mine."

-L.

Unshared Glory

I wrote a poem! I don't do that often but I hope God's purpose really shines through my weakness on this one. Technically it's incomplete. The first part is a little too personal and way too poorly written for me to share on the blog but it was about some of the people I love and the expectations I have and how no one quite meets them. 

Then comes the good part:

But the one who made me
My Abba in heaven
He's loved me through every moment I've lived in

Not like a bystander who watches from distance
He's been present

fighting for me
In every instance

Still to all my false saviors I'm tempted to run
To beg them for just one more moment of sun

But Abba calls kindly and his voice grows louder
He reminds me that He is my one true provider

I run to him and he holds me tight
I know that this isn't the end of the fight

But I'm choosing today to seek first the LORD
My Abba, true Savior, I could never afford!

The God who raised Jesus Christ from the dead
Who bought back my heart with thorns in His head!

I will praise my Messiah!
I will seek His face!
His love is enough to fill all my heart's space!

My God loves me, He choose me, He calls me His child
Adopted forever, no matter how wild!

My sins fell forgiven

both future and past
My soul resurected
Only this love will last!

God, I praise you

help me love you
For you loved me first
You raised me up 

made me new
Entrapy reversed!

Now I dance with you

sing with you
A privilege uncompared
You reached down to hold me
Your glory unshared.

“The LORD is my shepard; I shall not want...”

-Psalm 23:1 (ESV)

Child Sized Memories

    Hot pink, fuzzy, mouse ears that we're way too small for my head. I was slightly embarrassed even carrying them with me to breakfast in the hotel where my choir was staying. However, I had decided that if I was going to Disneyland again I was going to wear the ears my dad had bought me for my eleventh birthday.
     So in a mix of embarrassment and nostalgic joy I explained to people that I had gotten them when I was eleven, but left off the fact that it was a birthday gift from my late father (cause bringing that up leads to people feeling sorry for me and sometimes not knowing how to handle that and sometimes that's good but to be honest I didn't want to put in the energy). One response really got me though. "For an eleven year old, I think they're perfect." And then when I mentioned how the Disney princesses had fallen off, "maybe they were only meant to last for a couple of years."
     Now remember I hadn't mentioned the Dad part so I think this was all said thinking only of the very old, very bright, hat that I had for some unknown reason decided to take to Disneyland with me as an adult. But it got me thinking more symbolically.
     Maybe that hat (one of the last physical things I remember receiving from my dad) wasn't the only thing out of date and falling apart. What if my memories we're to?
     Although I didn't have any newer Disneyland hats, I could have bought one. Yet, I can't get new or updated memories of my dad. I'm bound to keep forgetting and even what I remember is like a fuzzy pink Mickey hat, right? I can still use them to remember my dad, but my dad years ago when he was the dad of an eleven year old. I don't know what it's like to have a dad as an adult or even as a teenager.
     But that doesn't mean that I've grown out of all my memories of my dad. In fact, there are some I haven't even grown into yet, like the Texas longhorns jacket he used to let me borrow. It's the one thing of my dad's that I really wanted to keep after he died. It's so big and comfy and I guess it reminds me of my dad's hugs and the way he always took care of me.

I made a list of some other memories of my dad that I hope to grow into:
His desire for me to study the Bible for myself (represented by the concordences and Bible dictionaries I inhereted and love.)
His familiarity with the Bible.
His humble apologies.
His honest prayers.
His respect and love for my mom.

These are just a few of the memories I want to hold onto and cherish. It's encouraging to think that I can let go of my childhood and still hold onto my dad.

    And one day, when my mouse ears and my dad's Longhorns jacket have  been left behind, I'll see my dad and my Heavenly Father and the three of us, we'll make memories that will last for eternity!

Happy May!
-L.

Daughter Part #3

Hello again!

     Happy March! I'm so excited to share this part of the story with you today because it reminds me of what we celebrate this weekend!

     When Jesus finally arrives at Jairus' house he finds a crowd of people weeping. They've given up hope for their precious twelve-year-old girl. She's dead but Jesus tells them that she's only asleep. They laugh at Him. He makes everyone stay outside. Then enters the house with her parents and a few of His disciples. He walks over to her bed, takes her hand and says, "little girl, I say to you, arise" (ESV). Then, the dead girl stands up and starts walking!

   Everyone is "overcome with amazement." but Jesus tells them not to tell anyone about it and goes home.

     There is so much to wonder at in this story. I didn't realize until now how little of it I saved for this last post, but I'm glad this was it because it's so profound. 

     I think in this season of my life I relate more to the people crying outside than anyone else in the story. When they laugh at Jesus' statement that she isn't truly dead, they remind me of myself.  When I've finally given up on a dream that seems impossible, however big or small it may be, and I seem to hear God hinting that hope is not truly lost, my tears turn to bitter laughter. Really? I ask, you're going to taunt me with that again? But then He comes through, raising my dream from the dead and I struggle to appreciate the gift because I am so ashamed of my lack of trust. But then He reminds me of His forgiveness and we carry on, with one more memory of His faithfulness and power. And the next time hope seems lost and the promise seems impossible, I hope I remember the little girl who was only sleeping, and chose to trust.

-L

Daughter Part #2

Hello!
Welcome back to Never Fatherless and the story of Jesus healing two daughters!
If you missed January's post you can check it out right here to catch up on the story and then come right back for part two.

    ...What do you think the little girls dad was thinking all this time? I mean come on, his daughter was dying, and he asked Jesus first, and the lady's already healed, come on! But then Jesus calls her daughter... and maybe then it makes sense. Jesus loved this woman with as much intense compassion as Jairus loved his daughter. Seeing this woman suffer hurt Jesus' heart like it hurt Jairus to see his daughter suffer...Oh. Maybe Jairus waits more patiently after that.

     But then he hears the news. A servant runs up while Jesus is still speaking. "Your daughter is dead" they tell Jairus, "do not trouble the teacher any more." (people always seemed worried about troubling Jesus)

     For Jairus and his servants hope is gone, but not for Jesus. Listen to what He says: "Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well" Not only did Jesus think of this girl as more than a waste of his time, He spoke confidently, not that he would "see what He could do" but that she would be well. Jairus' daughter was His daughter too.

Come back March 1st for the conclusion!

 -L.

Like Christ

     When girls think of someone as husband material we tend to (consciously or subconsciously) compare him to our dad's. When a girl doesn't have a good dad to compare a guy to (or to scare off the bad ones) she's more likely to end up in a relationship she will regret. I started to wonder how this was going to effect  me. How was I supposed to know what to look for in a guy without my dad around to set the example?

     As I had been wondering about this I read a passage in the Bible and it hit me how God fills that role better than any father. 

     Ephesians 5:25 (ESV) says that husbands are to "love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her." And later on in the same passage it says that husbands are to care for their wives as they care for themselves. So there's my answer. The model for the right guy isn't supposed to be a human father but rather Jesus the "...image of the invisible God." (Colossians 1:15 ESV) 

     In Jesus we see what God looks like, and in Him we find unconditionally sacrificial love. That's the example of what a husband should be. So that's what I'm waiting for. A man who loves me like Jesus does. I know that's a high standard and I'm not expecting perfection, but that should be the goal.

    I'd still appreciate a guy who's repentant, smart,creative and funny like my dad. But ultimately, I'm looking for a dude who loves me sacrificially and unconditionally, like Jesus.

Happy February,
-L.

Daughter: Part #1

     It's my favorite word in the English language. I like it because it's pretty, but also because it is a statement of identity and nothing else. A daughter of God is dearly loved by her Father, protected by Him and treasured by Him, unconditionally.

     One of my favorite Bible stories is about two sick daughters who's Father's loved them very much!

     The first father came to Jesus when his daughter was deathly ill and asked him to heal her. He was probably very anxious, knowing that she could die at any moment, and was relieved when Jesus agreed to come.

     But on the way, Jesus felt someone touch his clothes. He looked around, knowing that he had healed someone. A woman came out of the crowed, trembling, and confessed that she had had a bleeding disorder (which, in that culture meant she wasn't supposed to be around people, much less touch them) for twelve years and after trying everything else, decided to reach out and touch Jesus garment in hope of being healed. This was a bold move but He didn't rebuke her for touching him when she was unclean, nor did he simply say, yep that's how awesome I am, have a nice time being healed! He took the time to call her daughter, tell her that her faith had healed her and send her on her way in freedom, forgiveness and abundance!

   

And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”
-Luke 8:48 ESV 

To be continued...

Happy New year!
-L.

P.S. Check back for future posts to read my thoughts on the rest of the story, including how the first father (Jairus)might have felt about this detour.

P.P.S. In the meantime, Mark 5:21–43, Matthew 9:18–26, and Luke 8:40–56, are where I learned it so look them up and check out the original!