My Father doesn’t look like me

My Father doesn’t look like me.

My Father is gentle and kind.  He is not ashamed of me; he is not embarrassed by me.  His love for me is utterly unselfish.  His love for me is wholly pure and without hidden motives.  His love for me cannot be manipulative or harsh.

He does not need me.  His view of himself does not change because of my response to his love.  He is already complete.  I wonder at a love like that.  I want to give all of myself to a love like that.

When he corrects me it is a beautiful gift.  He shows me what separates us then teaches me how to give it to him. He desires for me to be that close to him. He wakes me up in the night with thoughts of his nearness just so I’ll know he is still with me.  

When I am in the dark he brings what I cannot see into the light.  How else can I behold him?  He wants to show me himself, and little by little he clears up my vision of who I think he is.   He clears up my vision of who I think I am.

His correction heals me.  His love builds me into the beautiful one he has known all along.  He calls me out of brokenness and into light.  He calls me by name because I am his and he is mine.  We belong to each other.

I don’t fear my Father.  He has never been harsh or cruel.  He is patient with my thoughts and my questions; all of the whys and why nots. I show him my heart without hesitation, because I know I am safe.  He is never in a hurry to change me.  His timing is perfect. He sees the very depths of me, the parts that are ugly and shameful, and it does not change his love.  It is unconditional.  

I would give him anything.  Love does that.  It gives to another with no thought of self.  It gives with no expectation of receiving, because being able to love IS the gift to the one who gives. I love him better than I did yesterday.  I’ll love him more tomorrow than I do today.

My Father doesn’t look like me.

But because of his mercy, by his grace, and in his love, I am beginning to look like him.