When I reflect upon the last four months of my life at Oklahoma State University, I have this reoccurring image ingrained in my head. It’s an image of my sweet Father’s fervent and tight hold on my heart. The image starts out with me as a child. A wildly curious, mischievous, and carefree child who knows no bounds, embarking upon any adventure she finds appealing. The image continues as I see my Father – delighted, I begin to run to Him while excitingly flailing myself into His warm embrace. From there, we begin to walk. Not separately, but together. I envision my child-like itsy bitsy self putting my petite feet atop His, while He holds my hands above my head, and we begin our adventure with Him leading. Wherever His foot travels, mine follow. Wherever His hands reach out, mine follow. I am not merely shadowing Him but copying His every strategic move. I am being held on to him, feet strapped atop His feet, hands intertwined with His, being led by my Father.
This particular image stirs within me when I reflect upon the past season in which sweet Jesus has walked not only beside me but interlaced with me. The season I have been embarking upon includes one of confusion, strain, and trials. Adaption and understanding sometimes require painful lessons to accompany them, but nevertheless, I have been breathless at times while watching Jesus literally picking up my shambles, throwing them to the side, and calmly saying “hey daughter, let's keep goin”.
This season has been a rediscovery. A rediscovery of my worth, the richness that comes with being a daughter of the King, and rediscovering the heart of Jesus.
During times in which the child-like image comes to surface, I have seen myself peel away the fingers of my Father in order that I may run ahead. I see my Father watching me as I begin to race away, full-speed ahead towards areas of my life that clearly come with unwanted territory. As I run, wind brushing my hair out of my face, my legs begin to come undone beneath me. I miserably trip, scabbing my hands and knees. Rather than shamefully reprimanding me for my actions, I see Jesus tenderly approaching me. His eyes looking upon me with love, not disappointment. He begins to reach for me, smiling, happy to have His child in His grasp again. Taking my hands and feet once again and placing them upon His, fully aware that I may lose sight of Him again but knowing that He will never lose sight of me.
That’s primarily where this season has led me. These reoccurring images in my mind that help altered my perception of my Father and the identity of myself as His daughter. A season where I am discovering the heart of Jesus. A heart that doesn’t look at His child and is ashamed of the mistakes she has made. A heart that adores His children so much that He chose to lay down His life for ours. A heart that doesn’t inflict fear in the eyes of His children but with open arms whispers words of overflowing freedom in order that we may experience broken chains.
A season that has taught me the truth behind the defining label of “Daughter”. A young girl who experiences shame, failure, regret, ignorance, abandonment, grief, and sin – is a daughter of the King. I have learned that Jesus not only loves me but is fond of me. His sacrificial love has rendered me free thus claiming my name as Daughter.
Like, how cool? Our Father wants us! We are His sons and daughters and His heart evermore reflects the purest form of love that He has for us!
Coming to understand these bewildering and mind blowing statements hasn't been easy this season and very tough; I am confident in this fact: no matter how many times I stomp my foot, whine, run away, etc. He is faithful to pick me up and align my feet and hands with His, leading me towards the heart of Him.
Okay, to be honest, I’m more than likely going to be a bratty child to Jesus at times because I am a #sinner but as I continue on to my second semester, I am nervous-pee excited to see what this season of discovery continues to hold.
He is faithful and full of love, pals!
