I grew up in a church culture where faith equated to hard work and to be self-demeaning was humble and even holy. Raised up in and out of atmospheres that permeated with the songs of defeat and despair, I grew to understand that to sin was to be sent away from His heart and that even if they spoke from the altars that His love was unconditional…what they really meant was: this love is absolutely conditional.
And because of this and even in the midst of this, day by day, I found myself feasting at the tables of performance and strife.
For these past couple years, I have had a hungry heart and if you sat in on my moments with Jesus, you know the messy ones, the ones with tears and words and wrestle; you would know that this hunger is something I've left on the floor of every encounter.
You would feel my frustration and the ache in my heart has been that no matter how much I go after it or open up my hands to it or pray about it or sing about it or declare it or jump up and down about it — my head is exploding with the truth that God loves me while my heart starves.
It is like with all of my being, with every fiber and ounce and song, I want to know that I know that I know God loves me. And I want to know, I am His girl, His daughter, His love. The ache is real, the cry is true, the groan is strong.
And I have been striving. I have been striving to know that God loves me.
I can think of times I hated people giving me words about how much God loves me, because it felt weak or times where I wondered how people could sit for hours with God, "isn't that boring?" I can think of ways I tried to win this affection as if I needed to show up to try and prove that I was worth it or places in which I tried to find it in people, putting unhealthy demands on relationships. I can think of programs I started, outrageous decisions I made, tears in the middle of the night and hunger at every second of the day – that all cried out with emotion:
"Do you love me now?"
It was like I have been fighting against something and agreeing with this feeling that God was keeping love from me; He was withdrawing His love to get something from me that He wanted.
Oh my Jesus, that is not my Jesus.
Honestly, I would have these moments; these holy moments, moments that left me wrecked in the best way possible, moments where I knew that I knew that I knew He loved me, but you see they never stayed, never hung around, never remained.
Because of my striving.
I can feel it, when I am striving. When I am operating out of abandonment and rejection insecurities. When I am trying to make it happen on my own. When I am coming at things out of a place of fear and panic. And man, It is so hard to receive from God when you're striving and I find that in striving, we often keep God out. It is almost like we are saying, "Shhh. I got this. Hold on a minute. I will be done in just a minute."
And He is all like, "I want to work with you."
So here I am striving to get this revelation that God loves me and that I am His daughter, but because I am striving, I can't hear Him or receive from Him. But He just waits. He just patiently waits.
He knows I will get it. That I will wake up and I will get it
You know, Jesus introduced the most radical way when He walked on the earth and the Father did the most outrageous thing when Jesus was baptized. He opened up those heavens, He made Himself known and He roared and said, "This is my Son in whom I am well pleased."
It is like I can hear Jesus calling us, inviting us into that river tonight, to get baptized in His love and for us to hear that same roar of the Father over us.
That we are His daughter, we are His son in whom we are well pleased.
And even if we haven't lifted a finger or gave one prophetic word or traveled to another nation or made a curriculum to try and get how much He loves us, He is just like, "Man, I am so proud of you. You are MINE." And that when we do, do those things because we see Him doing them, He isn't delighted because of our skill or passion or anointing, He just loves it because it came from us.
And when He looks at us, He sees Himself, and it just makes Him buckle over in joy.
So I am declaring a new day. I am declaring rest. I am declaring a posture of a daughter. I am declaring working from love and not for it. I am declaring no more orphan thinking, but daughter thinking. I am declaring He doesn't love like how we count a daisy, "He loves me. He loves me not." but He is forever King-in-love. I am declaring no more of me breathing into sin and darkness, but yes to surrendering to the baptism of His love and faithfulness.
Papa. Undo me and wreck me. I am Yours.
