As I scroll through my Facebook feed full of photos of a snowstorm hitting the East Coast, I am nursing the intense sunburn I got today while sitting on the beach in Maputo, Mozambique, where the ocean felt like it was about 90 degrees.
Spending a day at the beach always reminds me of when I was a kid and I would go on vacation with my family to the beach. After hours of playing in the sand and splashing in the water, my sister and I would go home absolutely wiped out, with sand in our hair and sun on our noses.
Recently, I’ve been feeling a lot like a child.
A few days ago, I felt compelled to climb a tree. I was never much of a tree-climber when I was a kid, but I always loved getting scrapes and bruises. I can actually remember the sad feeling I had when I began to grow up, grieving the loss of those battle scars won from bike-riding and playing in the grass. I always loved a good story from a cut or a bruise.
So I climbed a tree. And I got a couple scrapes on my arm from climbing. And then I sat and prayed and listened. And I felt so much like a child. I felt like I had absolutely nothing to care about except sitting in this tree.
Before now, I hadn’t thought too much about how God is my Father.
At one point in my life, God was like an employer – checking my performance, scolding me when I did wrong, rewarding me when I did right, asking me to prove myself as worthy.
One summer, I had a critical moment of understanding, and I saw Him as my Savior. By His grace He showed me that I am so unworthy of His love, yet He loves me anyways – to death.
That was almost six years ago, and now I am starting to understand that God looks at me as His daughter, and I can look to Him as my Father.
I think God wants to reteach me what it means to be a child, because I spent so much of my childhood trying to earn my way into His love.
So I’ve asked Him a lot recently:
What does it look like to be a daughter of the King?
And He’s shown me:
A child doesn’t worry about what’s going on in the house while she’s sitting in the tree because she knows her Father has got everything under control.
A child isn’t embarrassed to make a joyful noise because she knows her Father will be pleased by it.
A child isn’t afraid of things – whether it’s the things that go on inside herself or the things outside of her own heart – because she knows her Father can defeat everything she is afraid of.
A child doesn’t fear that she is taking up too much space because she knows that there is enough room in the Kingdom for all of who she is.
A child knows she has her Father’s undivided attention.
A child knows that her Father enjoys her, delights in her, and celebrates her.
A child knows the difference between truth and lies.
A child is unashamed.
The days when I live most fully into these truths are the days I feel the most free from my deepest insecurities and fears.
The days where I’ve felt bogged down by my insecurities and bombarded with lies – you’re too much, you’re in the way, you’re taking up too much space, you’re not valued or enjoyed – are the days when I haven’t taken the time to be with my Father, for Him to remind me that I am His daughter.
It seems fitting that as I learn what it means to be a child, I get to spend most of each day of ministry playing with kids. Every day I watch the boys of Beacon of Hope wash dishes, play soccer, do laundry, sing songs – and do it all with a joyful, childlike heart. I run around, getting sweaty and dirty, playing without inhibition. I have little concern for the time, except for when it’s time to eat, and my desire to nap has greatly increased. I couldn’t think of a better place to be learning about what it means to be a kid.
So, if you need me, I’ll be up in this tree, learning what it means to be a child of God.
