Father Knows Best

I've heard it said that one's view of God is shaped largely by one's perception of, and relationship with, one's earthly father. I've thought about that a lot through the years, and honestly I have to say there was a time when I thought that was one of the dumbest things I'd ever heard. My thought was that I've never seen God as a boisterous, insecure alcoholic. On second inspection, thankfully I can look at the man my father eventually became and recall a lot more of the way I see God today. I've come to realize that my early recollections are based on a man God wasn't finished with yet.

The concept of being a work in progress has swirled around in my mind a lot lately, in regard to the rollercoaster my family and I have lately been riding with white-knuckled grip barely hanging on at times. More than a few times I've found myself crying out David-style, “ Lord, where are you ?” and coming perilously close to starting a book of personal Psalms. I've actually threatened as much to no one in particular. I still might.

As a little girl, I had serious doubts that Father really knows best, at times seriously doubting Father knew anything at all. I remember being a young teen and not being sure I wanted anything to do with a Heavenly Father who would allow innocent young girls to endure things like I'd lived through. I had no concept of divine protectiveness other than the fact that it didn't seem to have been there for me when I cried out silently in the night to echo off a high ceiling where I believed no one could hear.

Ironically, the rescue finally came when I was a young teen three years after my dad's death, when I met the man who would become a godly husband and in some ways the father I wished I'd always had. It is because of Steve that I came to know God as Someone other than the deity who didn't know I existed and Christ as the One who died to save me—from the hell I'd lived and the one that awaited me down my “natural” path.

A few years ago God spoke a poem to my heart, a tangibly worded message that captures what He was trying to tell my young heart even all those years ago before I knew He was listening.

I was there the day it happened, and my heart was rent with grief
As my precious rose lay battered, crushed of petal, torn of leaf
And I cried for all my children who have drained that bitter cup
As their pleas for mercy echoed and their anguish floated up
Please believe me, dearest daughter, this was never my intent
For such pain to be made perfect my Son's precious blood was spent
There is nothing where you're standing that can wholly heal your heart
But believe me when I tell you we won't always be apart
The memories and scents that haunt your dreams and cloud your days
Will one day dissipate and you will truly know my ways
But for now I have a gift for you that just your heart can see
It's a picture I have drawn of two embracing, you and me
The image I will leave with you while you must walk your sod
And you will be my darling girl and I will be your God
So hold it close and don't forget one truth that never died:
Evil will not always boast what Love has crucified

In the end, nothing makes sense except to trust Him. As rough as this rollercoaster ride gets at times, as often as the questions batter my weary brain screaming for answers that don't readily come, I know in the deepest part of my heart that my Father knows best.

Contact Lisa at: photoartist@cfl.rr.com