It just so happens that Father’s Day marks three months since my last post. Interesting.

I love Father’s day. I always have. I’m sure my dad still has the barely readable (yet heartfelt) scribbled letters and tacky decorated cards to prove it. My heart sinks when I recall the goodness and faithfulness of my own father, knowing that the majority of girls walking this earth have no idea what it feels like to have a father (or any man, for that matter) who cares for and loves her. Women who are not valued for their femininity are shamed and exploited because of their femininity. And that is the most destructive weapon used to assault womanhood. And since women were created to be lovers and life-givers, herein lies the strategy of man and media to destroy life and love itself. I feel my blood boiling even as I think about it. But my anger is as dust in light of the wrath of God that will be unleashed and poured out on the final day. Every destructive word and exploitation (by man and woman) of His life-giving creation will be judged as it has judged, and thus condemned as it has condemned.

I don’t write this out of vengeance or anger, but in light of Father’s day, I’m pondering the weightiness of fatherhood… not the burden of it, but the weight of every father’s words and actions toward their daughters. I use the word “weight” because today I was confronted with mystery of identity. Little girls look to their fathers to tell them (and not only that, but to show them, to prove to them) who they really are. Girls get their very identity from their fathers.

I was listening to a music artist share this afternoon how he sings his 5-year-old daughter to sleep every night with the same tune:

You are so beautiful to me
You are so beautiful to me
Can’t you see
Your everything I hoped for
Your everything I need
You are so beautiful to me

Such joy and happiness you bring
Such joy and happiness you bring
Like a dream
A guiding light that shines in the night
Heavens gift to me
You are so beautiful to me

I once heard Ravi Zacharias say, “The world is an orphan in search of a Father”. Why? Because we only know who we are in light of the Father. And since He is Father, then we are His kids. And since He is the perfect Father, He sings and smiles over us with joy, just because we’re His kids. I thought about that today as I was watching a baby. He couldn’t even talk. He was just looking up to his daddy and making noises at him. Lately, I’ve been feeling like that. Like I just can’t put together the right sounds to make the right words to say the right prayers. All that comes out is nonsense. So it keeps me from talking to Father. But I was watching this baby coo at his daddy, and I thought… it doesn’t even matter what this baby is managing to eek out. The words are just noise. The father can see the child’s heart, and the heart is whispering, “I love you. And I like you. And I really like when you just hold me and look into my eyes”. And that’s enough for the father. He loves it, right?

I like how He can read my heart, even when I feel like a child that can’t communicate verbally.


1 Comment

  1. Kathleen Vandenbergh said,

    June 18, 2011 at 6:35 pm

    Love your thots!

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