God, You're Not My Daddy!
God is not my daddy. Yes, you read it right. I’ve been in church since I was a baby. My mom dragged me there every Sunday. This was when they had a service for that service. We were there for hours. Yet, all this church-going and going to Christian schools didn’t keep me from being a floppy Christian in adulthood. When I was able to make choices, I stopped going to church as much. You might see me there on holidays or if I did something that convicted me to go so I could pray out and cry out my sins. I loved God, but I didn’t love me and didn’t think he should love me either. It’s why I’d start up a heavy relationship with him, be in love for about 3 months, make a big mistake, then hide out the other months in shame and guilt. He was such a good God who deserved more than my seasonal love and screw-ups. He was better off without me, and I thought I was better off without him. That changed in January 2018, when God revealed himself to me in a new way. I can’t explain it but I tasted his love and goodness. With my belly filled, I set out on a mission to be perfect for him, to be a good girl. I quit drinking and smoking. I prayed day in and day out. I was at church every Sunday and bible study on Tuesdays. I volunteered at church too. Yet, I still made mistakes and sinned. My heart was crushed. I felt like I disappointed him. I’d cry tears of confessions all day long. If it were biblical times, I’d be the one flogging myself. One day I took my dad to the Memory Clinic; he has progressive Alzheimer’s. As we walked to the revolving doors, God dropped it on me that he wasn’t my biological father, he was my Heavenly Father and for me to stop assigning him any other title. I didn’t have to work so hard for his love because it was already given. And I didn’t have to lash myself for sin because he already took the lashings. I was in good standing with him. He wasn’t looking for perfection, just my heart.